It's "Luke, I am your father." in Latin.
I was at the launch of a "crime prevention device" on a weekend some time back. That was all I was told before going there. And yes, I spent a while coming up with theories on just wtf it would be.
I've never had much faith in the Singapore Police Force. Personal experiences that would involve too much re-telling. But if they'd come up with something that detects crime and warns people of it...well, I'd eat my hat. Rather placid vow, considering I don't own any hats.
But anyway. Imagine:
Old lady walks down a dark, narrow alley late at night. Her attention is focused on her footing, and she does not see the sinister shadow that stealthily moves up behind on her.
Suddenly, light floods the area. Sirens go off and a stern mechanical voice booms.
"WARNING WARNING. YOU ARE ABOUT TO BE THE VICTIM OF A ROBBERY. THE SUSPECT IS MALE, CHINESE AND LOOKS TO BE IN HIS EARLY TWENTIES. HE HAS A MOLE ON HIS CHIN AND A BADLY DONE TATTOO OF A BUTTERFLY ON HIS RIGHT BUTTOCK. A POLICE CAR IS BEING DISPATCHED TO THE AREA."
I'd be sold on the "Home Team" slogan the police have. Go, police!
But no. It was in fact...well, I'll tell you shortly.
I was intrigued by a trio doing interviews there. One man, two women. The guy was quite large, standing about a head above my 1.75m. Long sleeved shirt and pants, professional looking bag, glasses, and hair neatly gelled back. One of the two females was in what looked to me to be her early thirties, dressed in what I will call immaculate smart casual, with her hair cut in a neat, utilitarian bob. The last could have been a sweet young thing, in her simple Tee and Jeans. Dark circles marred otherwise delicate features, a sure sign of tight deadlines. Some effort had been put into hair colour, but lack of attention had it frizzed and peroxide-ish.
Interesting also was how they took notes. Big Guy had a pad which he wrote in, but infrequently. Matron's pen almost never left hers. I snuck a peek at Matron's pad - she wrote really fast.
She'd gone and invented some kind of new language altogether, it seemed. I know of shorthand, but hers were just a series of wavy line. The sort you do when testing a pen to see if it writes. Talk about pro.
WorkaholicSYT seemed by far the smartest. She had a voice recorder. I was quite amused at the way she shoved it at the important people speaking. Any closer and they'd be tasting it. It wasn't some budget cassette thing (which I have) either. Slim, sexy, sleek and screaming chic. Yes.
The three worked together, all taking notes (with exception of wSYT) as each took their turn to ask questions. All very efficient, very no-nonsense. I stood by the side and leeched their interview. Think I irked Matron in the process - I'm not sure if those were disdainful looks she gave me.
During a lull, I went up to Big Guy and ExcuseMe-d him. Had to try thrice before he heard me, for the sound to travel the distance up to him. He was very nice, though. Yes, they were from the press. He was writing for a Chinese paper, and Matron was the Straits Times. wSYT I didn't catch. My first thought was she was apprenticing under Matron, but they worked quite independently. Bug Guy spoke very well, and considering he writes for a newspaper in Chinese, all I can say is - outclassed.
Ah, the press. That land of grey paper and ink that is known for its crazy pace, but oh-so-prestigious.
And here are the writeups on the event:
--
Story 1 -
"Thieves" drive home crime prevention message
Two thieves will greet drivers pulling into the multi-storey carpark at Block 126A, Bukit Merah View.
They are not the real deal, mind you, just life-size posters.
The two cut-outs and a sensor-activated lightbox with the anti-theft message "Don't Tempt Me", are part of a pilot project launched yesterday to remind motorists not to leave their CashCards and valuables in their vehicles.
One poster is placed at the entrance of the carpark. The other is on the wall to the left of the ramp connecting the first deck to the second.
When a motorist drives up the second deck, a motion detector on the ceiling near the ramp will activate the lightbox installed at the other end of the deck. The message "Don't Tempt Me" will flash for five seconds, reminding drivers to practise crime prevention and not leave things to chance.
The project was launched by the MP for Tanjong Pagar GRC, Ms Indranee Rajah. It was initiated by Bukit Merah West Neighbourhood Police Centre of Clementi Police Division headquarters after a spate of thefts from vehicles at the same carpark.
Some residents contacted said the project was a good idea.
Madam Judy Tan, 48, a Citizen-On-Patrol volunteer, said: "We hope it will work."
Story 2 -
Making Bukit Merah View a safer place
Prepare to be flashed when you drive in to the multi-storey car park at Block 126A Bukit Merah View.
It’s a new crime prevention sensor, launched on 17 September at the function hall beside Block 126A. Imagine driving into the car park at night, after a long day’s work. Your vehicle activates the sensor, and a dark wall lights up with a picture of someone breaking into a car. Bold text reminds you to lock your car – and not leave valuables behind.
It’s a reminder tired drivers often need. Nobody wants their car broken into – but sometimes we forget not to encourage thieves.
This project was an effort by Clementi Police Division to reduce crime. At the launch, SUPT Anthony Ng, Commander of the Division, also presented certificates of appointment to the neighbourhood COPs – Citizens on Patrol. They are members of Bukit Merah View Zone “B” RC, and patrol the neighbourhood at least once a week in groups of about ten people. Patrols last about two hours, and anything suspicious is reported to the police.
NPCC groups from Crescent Girls’ School and Gan Eng Seng School came to look after the exhibits and answer any questions residents had. Mr Chua, OC of GESS NPCC, felt it was a great chance for the troops to get exposure, and gain experience talking to the public.
Everyone was involved. As Ms Indranee Rajah, guest of honour for the event said, “Tackling crime is not just a police affair. They cannot be everywhere. Everyone must do their part.”
--
One I can only assume was by Matron, and the other is my version that hasn't yet gone through Mr Ancob's editing. Even taking into account the different focuses due to publication, I'd say I have a long way to go before I get that sort of rapid-fire efficiency in my writing. Something a lot of people fail to realize, and I've only done recently, is that plain, unbiased and effective journalistic writing can be the hardest thing.
And I'm not sure I want to lose the eccentric bit of my writing, or am happy about what I've already lost.
But, yes. Was interesting to be able to see what someone a few leagues above myself wrote about the same event.
Let us not forget the issue at hand:
That is one sad crime prevention device.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Saturday, September 24, 2005
Its been a long week.
Comparisons, comparisons.
One looks back and thinks: sure I had to work for thankless bosses, crap pay and put up with the scum of today's youth. But at least back then I had a definite number of hours to work, fixed off days, and overtime pay. Was it really so bad?
Yes. Yes it was. Dead end job, possibility of me snapping and taking a chair to one of the kids, and lastly, I wouldn't have been able to bring you this breaking news.
English is supposed to be your second language if you're anything other than Caucasian. Bit different here, where the ones that go to school learn English on a first-ish basis. And a good lot of us go to school, no?
Most do alright in the language. They come out of school with a good working knowledge of the language. Yes, "working knowledge", though many, and I do not exclude myself, think they know English.
Oh, and our official National Language is Malay.
We get along well enough. Not too many Yeats, Dickens or Austens around, but we get along.
Now, it may be presumptuous of me, but I would like to think if you're a qualified doctor, a politician, and hold numerous positions of authority - the standards have to be ever so slightly higher.
We're not asking him to pen sonnets to the Merlion. Just to know the difference between "its" and "it's".
A fair number of people make the same mistake. Most think the two are interchangeable. On an unrelated note, most are high school students.
I wouldn't be bringing this up, but for that the person in question once reviewed a piece of copy both Mr Ancob and I wrote, edited and proofread the hell out of. He put in, let's call them "questionable" changes. He also told us what a bad job we did - that we had poor grammar and sentence structure - and made a note for future submissions to be better efforts.
Yes sir, we will improve. Thank you for you're invaluable feedback.
If I don't say anything in two weeks, BadAss man's got me.
One looks back and thinks: sure I had to work for thankless bosses, crap pay and put up with the scum of today's youth. But at least back then I had a definite number of hours to work, fixed off days, and overtime pay. Was it really so bad?
Yes. Yes it was. Dead end job, possibility of me snapping and taking a chair to one of the kids, and lastly, I wouldn't have been able to bring you this breaking news.
English is supposed to be your second language if you're anything other than Caucasian. Bit different here, where the ones that go to school learn English on a first-ish basis. And a good lot of us go to school, no?
Most do alright in the language. They come out of school with a good working knowledge of the language. Yes, "working knowledge", though many, and I do not exclude myself, think they know English.
Oh, and our official National Language is Malay.
We get along well enough. Not too many Yeats, Dickens or Austens around, but we get along.
Now, it may be presumptuous of me, but I would like to think if you're a qualified doctor, a politician, and hold numerous positions of authority - the standards have to be ever so slightly higher.
We're not asking him to pen sonnets to the Merlion. Just to know the difference between "its" and "it's".
A fair number of people make the same mistake. Most think the two are interchangeable. On an unrelated note, most are high school students.
I wouldn't be bringing this up, but for that the person in question once reviewed a piece of copy both Mr Ancob and I wrote, edited and proofread the hell out of. He put in, let's call them "questionable" changes. He also told us what a bad job we did - that we had poor grammar and sentence structure - and made a note for future submissions to be better efforts.
Yes sir, we will improve. Thank you for you're invaluable feedback.
If I don't say anything in two weeks, BadAss man's got me.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Culling the herd.
The problem with not reading the news is, by the time something everyone's been talking about reaches you, it's become sort of... Olds. And you can't possibly comment without looking like a bandwagon-jumper either way.
But yes, I've just heard two bloggers here have been arrested and charged with sedition, for posting racially inflammatory comments online. They're out on $10,000 bail, now. If convicted, they face up to three years in jail, or $5,000 in fines, or both.
Interesting, on several counts.
"Bloggers", as we know the term, have been in focus so much and so often for...well, getting into shit, that it seems anyone who gets into trouble for saying something online is now a Blogger. One of the arrested duo did post his worthless thoughts on his weblog, but the other one was posting in a forum. A doggie forum. So convenient, though. Got in trouble for saying something online? Must be a Blogger.
I have trouble enough finding time and things of sufficient interest to you three people and small yappy-type dog to write about. Well, fine, just about anything can be made interesting and I'm just lazy. But these people are of a different breed altogether. Stirring up racial angst on a frickin' dog-lover's site?
You would think. You would. That people learn. Our superior cognitive ability is supposed to be what distinguishes us from the monkeys, our closest cousins. How many times have people been shot down for this or that involving their Blogs, for chrissake. The last I wrote about it wasn't that long ago, and there've been plenty since then.
But these people are still of the HAY I M ON D INTARNAT NO 1 KNO WHU I M HUR HUR mentality.
They deserve it. Yes, they do. I'm with the gah'men on this one. We all get angry with other people. Some of us more often than others. And then we pick up whatever we can to justify that anger. In a state of rage, a lot of name calling, mental or not, can happen. But we don't really mean them, and apologize afterwards to have great make-up sex.
There really is no way to have emotions run that rampant when you're typing something. Or to have great make-up sex, but let's stay on topic here.
Screw the fines. Lock them up, I say. I think quite enough has been done to champion this "freedom of speech" thing. Amazing place, America, and some damned fine things come from it. But the sheer number of things people can get away with there, under "freedom of speech". It is nothing Singapore needs.
They can have freedom of speech when they learn how to behave like a human being. I'm not even asking them to be good company, you know. Just shutting the fuck up about their perceived superiority would be good.
Nicholas Lim Yew, 25, and Benjamin Koh Song Huat, 27. Part of the ethnic majority in Singapore. Surprise, surprise. Not so tough now, are we? Too bad you'll probably be able to pay the fines - and that the judge probably will give you pricks a fine.
Would be lovely to see what the Malay and Indian community in prison think about your witty, witty comments online. I'm sure they'd want to...exchange views.
But yes, I've just heard two bloggers here have been arrested and charged with sedition, for posting racially inflammatory comments online. They're out on $10,000 bail, now. If convicted, they face up to three years in jail, or $5,000 in fines, or both.
Interesting, on several counts.
"Bloggers", as we know the term, have been in focus so much and so often for...well, getting into shit, that it seems anyone who gets into trouble for saying something online is now a Blogger. One of the arrested duo did post his worthless thoughts on his weblog, but the other one was posting in a forum. A doggie forum. So convenient, though. Got in trouble for saying something online? Must be a Blogger.
I have trouble enough finding time and things of sufficient interest to you three people and small yappy-type dog to write about. Well, fine, just about anything can be made interesting and I'm just lazy. But these people are of a different breed altogether. Stirring up racial angst on a frickin' dog-lover's site?
You would think. You would. That people learn. Our superior cognitive ability is supposed to be what distinguishes us from the monkeys, our closest cousins. How many times have people been shot down for this or that involving their Blogs, for chrissake. The last I wrote about it wasn't that long ago, and there've been plenty since then.
But these people are still of the HAY I M ON D INTARNAT NO 1 KNO WHU I M HUR HUR mentality.
They deserve it. Yes, they do. I'm with the gah'men on this one. We all get angry with other people. Some of us more often than others. And then we pick up whatever we can to justify that anger. In a state of rage, a lot of name calling, mental or not, can happen. But we don't really mean them, and apologize afterwards to have great make-up sex.
There really is no way to have emotions run that rampant when you're typing something. Or to have great make-up sex, but let's stay on topic here.
Screw the fines. Lock them up, I say. I think quite enough has been done to champion this "freedom of speech" thing. Amazing place, America, and some damned fine things come from it. But the sheer number of things people can get away with there, under "freedom of speech". It is nothing Singapore needs.
They can have freedom of speech when they learn how to behave like a human being. I'm not even asking them to be good company, you know. Just shutting the fuck up about their perceived superiority would be good.
Nicholas Lim Yew, 25, and Benjamin Koh Song Huat, 27. Part of the ethnic majority in Singapore. Surprise, surprise. Not so tough now, are we? Too bad you'll probably be able to pay the fines - and that the judge probably will give you pricks a fine.
Would be lovely to see what the Malay and Indian community in prison think about your witty, witty comments online. I'm sure they'd want to...exchange views.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
Knackerism.
I'm come a long way from that young indolent who thought waking up at seven in the morning was the most ridiculous thing in the world.
Yes. Now I actually have to do it, you see.
It's been another wake/work/sleep week, and boy will you be thrilled to hear about it!
...If you're that peculiar sort that appreciates the nuances of watching paint dry.
In the abscence of my usual lack of wit, here is a picture of a goat.
Got potential, that one. Remember, all credits go to Songdog.net . His goat, his glory.
Yes. Now I actually have to do it, you see.
It's been another wake/work/sleep week, and boy will you be thrilled to hear about it!
...If you're that peculiar sort that appreciates the nuances of watching paint dry.
In the abscence of my usual lack of wit, here is a picture of a goat.
Got potential, that one. Remember, all credits go to Songdog.net . His goat, his glory.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
The Y-Files.
Was a lovely movie, if you've caught it.
Mel Gibson get electrocuted in his bathtub, wearing make-up and having just waxed his legs. And when he comes to, he can hear what women around him are thinking.
...I need 01 x Makeup Kit, 01 x Wax Strip, and...uh, to fill up a bucket of water. HDB, lah. Sure we could have a bathtub. Just take out some of the luxury, space consuming items. Like the refrigerator. And the stove.
So no, we're not seeing other people anymore. As of a few hours ago, we have lost the ability to perceive other people. Invisible, you lot are.
Screw Vanity. Woman, thy name is Whacked.
...but in a lovely sort of way.
Mel Gibson get electrocuted in his bathtub, wearing make-up and having just waxed his legs. And when he comes to, he can hear what women around him are thinking.
...I need 01 x Makeup Kit, 01 x Wax Strip, and...uh, to fill up a bucket of water. HDB, lah. Sure we could have a bathtub. Just take out some of the luxury, space consuming items. Like the refrigerator. And the stove.
So no, we're not seeing other people anymore. As of a few hours ago, we have lost the ability to perceive other people. Invisible, you lot are.
Screw Vanity. Woman, thy name is Whacked.
...but in a lovely sort of way.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Work-around.
...around the clock, perhaps.
Been quite busy. I do apologize. Twelve hours at the office doesn't leave me fit for much else when I get back.
But, yes. The pictures, they are out. Now, I know I promised nice pictures of our beloved Ministers of Parliament and such. But I had a niggling doubt (of the non-racist variety), and consulted Mr Ancob. After all, they're more or less his pictures.
He explained it quite nicely. In the interest of readability and flavour, I have distilled it down to this:
"You want to put pictures of gah'men on your site. Never die before ah?"
Lovely thing, self-censorship. I did concur, however. So you'll have to take my word on Dr Lily Neo being very, very pretty.
...Really.
...No, really.
Pity. The profile picture link on the previous entry does her no justice. But if I do put anything up here, I might get...
...BadAss man after me. I never did find out his name, but look: no other words are going to come to mind when you see him. He could do anything, and people would never question it.
BadAss man shoves past a 120kg, African-American bodybuilder.
Bodybuilder: "Yo what up wit dat dawg?! You looking to star..."
BadAss man slowly turns around. He looks questioningly at the bodybuilder.
Bodybuilder: "...sir."
He was one of the bodyguards there. Utter respect. One does not manage that grim set to the jaw without years of practice. Of course, he could be cheating and have been born with it. Probably flipped off the doctor as he slid out, too. Badass.
What, you think you could take him? That's just because you're not seeing him in the proper context:
Told you. Badass.
So you'll have to make do with generic cute kid.
Hey don't diss it. You think getting these are easy?
And of course, must have pretty girls.
The beautiful Kelly, runner-up of yet another Idol-type contest, Project Superstar. She does sing very well. And is very pretty.
And there's Kelly with the winner of that contest, Kelvin! ...otherwise known as Wei Liang.
I must speak up at this point. Even in newspapers, I see the phrase. Why is she "Kelly", and he "Kelvin, better known as Wei Liang"? It's a trend, you know. That Chinese male singers go by their Chinese names, while female singers take on all sorts of bopsy monikers. "Apple" and "Fish" are up there. I've heard of someone called "Hymen", though that's unconfirmed.
...why?
But they're very close, as far as I could tell. It was oddly sweet. Cameramen would go up for pictures, and Kelly would tell Kelvin their pictures were being taken. Kelvin would then flash a very sweet smile at a nearby potted plant, and Kelly would put her arm around him and gently swivel his head to the right direction.
I must also mention that Kelvin came very close, several times, to being photographed groping Kelly's boob. Though I will not condemn others for things I would very much do myself, it might be something they want to look into. Just wouldn't look good on the camera, no matter how much we understand that it's an accident. Or two. ...Or nine.
It couldn't have been easy for either of them, you know? Whoever won the contest was going to be called names. Kelly could dress up, sing and dance. Which she did. And people would say that was why she won. Kelvin was blind. An against-all-odds sort of hero. And people would say that's why he won. As it is, I've already had a friend say quite firmly to me, "You do know he only won because he's blind, right?" .
Well, I let it go. They seem to be doing very well together. Perhaps some happy relationship will come out of this. You go, Kelvin! ...or, Wei Liang.
Well, maybe he doesn't need my well wishes.
The other pretty, pretty girl is...Eve, I think. Runner-up of...another contest. It begins to get out of hand.
She's from Taiwan, and also sings quite nicely. I felt a little sorry for her initially. You see, the three of them were sitting quite innocently at the side of the stage. You could go right up to them, like three other photographers and myself did.
Then...they were noticed.
The agents and organizers eventually pried the bloodthirsty crowd of schoolgirls, bengs and aunties off. Then they allowed no one onto the little platform where the performers were seated. Through all this, Eve was...untouched. No requests for pictures, no sneaky sneaky pictures being taken. She looked a little sad, to me. So, being one of the few that could get onto the platform, I decided to make her feel a bit more special by taking pictures of her.
Pretty pretty.
Turns out there wasn't really a need to. Though a fair bit of the crowd started leaving right after Kel&Kel finished their last song, quite a number stayed, intrigued by the sweet young thing coming on stage.
She sang, and though it wasn't magic or anything, she was pretty good. And very photogenic. A group of schoolgirls collaborated to chime, "You're very cute!" after her song, and that cheered her up considerably.
I thought there was some surreptitious checking out on both my side and hers, both before and after I'd taken her picture. But of course, quite probably my deluded self. Her agent was better looking than me.
And way back then, I had a girlfriend.
...It wasn't a terribly interesting day, and not put across in a terribly interesting way.
Story of my life, that is.
Been quite busy. I do apologize. Twelve hours at the office doesn't leave me fit for much else when I get back.
But, yes. The pictures, they are out. Now, I know I promised nice pictures of our beloved Ministers of Parliament and such. But I had a niggling doubt (of the non-racist variety), and consulted Mr Ancob. After all, they're more or less his pictures.
He explained it quite nicely. In the interest of readability and flavour, I have distilled it down to this:
"You want to put pictures of gah'men on your site. Never die before ah?"
Lovely thing, self-censorship. I did concur, however. So you'll have to take my word on Dr Lily Neo being very, very pretty.
...Really.
...No, really.
Pity. The profile picture link on the previous entry does her no justice. But if I do put anything up here, I might get...
...BadAss man after me. I never did find out his name, but look: no other words are going to come to mind when you see him. He could do anything, and people would never question it.
BadAss man shoves past a 120kg, African-American bodybuilder.
Bodybuilder: "Yo what up wit dat dawg?! You looking to star..."
BadAss man slowly turns around. He looks questioningly at the bodybuilder.
Bodybuilder: "...sir."
He was one of the bodyguards there. Utter respect. One does not manage that grim set to the jaw without years of practice. Of course, he could be cheating and have been born with it. Probably flipped off the doctor as he slid out, too. Badass.
What, you think you could take him? That's just because you're not seeing him in the proper context:
Told you. Badass.
So you'll have to make do with generic cute kid.
Hey don't diss it. You think getting these are easy?
And of course, must have pretty girls.
The beautiful Kelly, runner-up of yet another Idol-type contest, Project Superstar. She does sing very well. And is very pretty.
And there's Kelly with the winner of that contest, Kelvin! ...otherwise known as Wei Liang.
I must speak up at this point. Even in newspapers, I see the phrase. Why is she "Kelly", and he "Kelvin, better known as Wei Liang"? It's a trend, you know. That Chinese male singers go by their Chinese names, while female singers take on all sorts of bopsy monikers. "Apple" and "Fish" are up there. I've heard of someone called "Hymen", though that's unconfirmed.
...why?
But they're very close, as far as I could tell. It was oddly sweet. Cameramen would go up for pictures, and Kelly would tell Kelvin their pictures were being taken. Kelvin would then flash a very sweet smile at a nearby potted plant, and Kelly would put her arm around him and gently swivel his head to the right direction.
I must also mention that Kelvin came very close, several times, to being photographed groping Kelly's boob. Though I will not condemn others for things I would very much do myself, it might be something they want to look into. Just wouldn't look good on the camera, no matter how much we understand that it's an accident. Or two. ...Or nine.
It couldn't have been easy for either of them, you know? Whoever won the contest was going to be called names. Kelly could dress up, sing and dance. Which she did. And people would say that was why she won. Kelvin was blind. An against-all-odds sort of hero. And people would say that's why he won. As it is, I've already had a friend say quite firmly to me, "You do know he only won because he's blind, right?" .
Well, I let it go. They seem to be doing very well together. Perhaps some happy relationship will come out of this. You go, Kelvin! ...or, Wei Liang.
Well, maybe he doesn't need my well wishes.
The other pretty, pretty girl is...Eve, I think. Runner-up of...another contest. It begins to get out of hand.
She's from Taiwan, and also sings quite nicely. I felt a little sorry for her initially. You see, the three of them were sitting quite innocently at the side of the stage. You could go right up to them, like three other photographers and myself did.
Then...they were noticed.
The agents and organizers eventually pried the bloodthirsty crowd of schoolgirls, bengs and aunties off. Then they allowed no one onto the little platform where the performers were seated. Through all this, Eve was...untouched. No requests for pictures, no sneaky sneaky pictures being taken. She looked a little sad, to me. So, being one of the few that could get onto the platform, I decided to make her feel a bit more special by taking pictures of her.
Pretty pretty.
Turns out there wasn't really a need to. Though a fair bit of the crowd started leaving right after Kel&Kel finished their last song, quite a number stayed, intrigued by the sweet young thing coming on stage.
She sang, and though it wasn't magic or anything, she was pretty good. And very photogenic. A group of schoolgirls collaborated to chime, "You're very cute!" after her song, and that cheered her up considerably.
I thought there was some surreptitious checking out on both my side and hers, both before and after I'd taken her picture. But of course, quite probably my deluded self. Her agent was better looking than me.
And way back then, I had a girlfriend.
...It wasn't a terribly interesting day, and not put across in a terribly interesting way.
Story of my life, that is.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Whining noises.
No, nothing much to see here I'm afraid.
It hasn't been one of my better weeks. I figure I should list it, so I have some sort of benchmark. A whine-o-metre, if you will:
- A truncated weekend. Sure, I got to see Lee Kuan Yew and pretty, pretty girls. To one, I was paparazzi scum, and to the other, "that ogling weirdo with the dinky camera". And I suffered the most devastatingly patronizing laugh at one of my attempts at humour I have ever heard. It will haunt me for some time.
- A brief rest, and the week starts proper, with my going to the dentist. He proceeds to drill my face off. Dentist-chair pain is unique. You feel intense, immense pain from a tiny drill that makes a horrible, horrible noise. While staring up at unblinking eyes and semi-invasive lights, alien-autopsy style. Then you pay an obscene amount of money for that pain, and thank them profusely. My heart flutters at the thought of the impending wisdom-tooth extraction.
- I ask her out for a drink in one of my rare, free-a-little-earlier evenings. We sit down with nice beer on a cool night with lovely weather, at an intriguing Jamaican-themed pub with soft reggae music playing.
And she tells me she thinks we should "see other people".
- We submitted a near-completed copy, that really looks quite nice, of something that has dragged on about three months and counting. At the review meeting, we go over the twenty thousand changes that must be made. I'm not complaining about the work. It's there, and I'll do it. But nineteen thousand of the changes look to be made by a geriatric monkey. Who only speaks French. Three other projects must also be done.
They were all due, of course, two weeks ago.
Just the major bits, those. The week is quite far from over, as what can happen in a day shows. The Saturday should be spent catching up with what we've got to do. And some event is coming up on Sunday, though I don't know if I'll have to go.
It's a vicious cycle of coffee, cigarettes and ploughing through rather thankless tasks, right now. I'd like to get smashed silly, but as usual, am running on broke. And not too many...fine, no one to do it with. So I play Maple Story when I get back. Same face-numbing effect, but no trying-to-walk-in-straight-line fun. And zilch chance of drunken debauchery.
Well, not that the last was ever quite possible. Can't pull that off, no.
Oh, I fully understand there are people in the world living far, far worse lives than I am. A better person would square his shoulders and start setting everything in place.
I make whining noises. Like the dentist drill.
So there you have it! The new site starts, virtually indistinguishable from the original. Ceterus paribus, except the address and the title/sub-title. Don't diss it, you have no idea how long it took to come up with those four words. Though, we should not rule out the possibility that other people would be able to do it in two minutes, and I'm just incompetent.
No fanfare, no champagne, no confetti. Just a sort of...whimper.
I apologize.
It hasn't been one of my better weeks. I figure I should list it, so I have some sort of benchmark. A whine-o-metre, if you will:
- A truncated weekend. Sure, I got to see Lee Kuan Yew and pretty, pretty girls. To one, I was paparazzi scum, and to the other, "that ogling weirdo with the dinky camera". And I suffered the most devastatingly patronizing laugh at one of my attempts at humour I have ever heard. It will haunt me for some time.
- A brief rest, and the week starts proper, with my going to the dentist. He proceeds to drill my face off. Dentist-chair pain is unique. You feel intense, immense pain from a tiny drill that makes a horrible, horrible noise. While staring up at unblinking eyes and semi-invasive lights, alien-autopsy style. Then you pay an obscene amount of money for that pain, and thank them profusely. My heart flutters at the thought of the impending wisdom-tooth extraction.
- I ask her out for a drink in one of my rare, free-a-little-earlier evenings. We sit down with nice beer on a cool night with lovely weather, at an intriguing Jamaican-themed pub with soft reggae music playing.
And she tells me she thinks we should "see other people".
- We submitted a near-completed copy, that really looks quite nice, of something that has dragged on about three months and counting. At the review meeting, we go over the twenty thousand changes that must be made. I'm not complaining about the work. It's there, and I'll do it. But nineteen thousand of the changes look to be made by a geriatric monkey. Who only speaks French. Three other projects must also be done.
They were all due, of course, two weeks ago.
Just the major bits, those. The week is quite far from over, as what can happen in a day shows. The Saturday should be spent catching up with what we've got to do. And some event is coming up on Sunday, though I don't know if I'll have to go.
It's a vicious cycle of coffee, cigarettes and ploughing through rather thankless tasks, right now. I'd like to get smashed silly, but as usual, am running on broke. And not too many...fine, no one to do it with. So I play Maple Story when I get back. Same face-numbing effect, but no trying-to-walk-in-straight-line fun. And zilch chance of drunken debauchery.
Well, not that the last was ever quite possible. Can't pull that off, no.
Oh, I fully understand there are people in the world living far, far worse lives than I am. A better person would square his shoulders and start setting everything in place.
I make whining noises. Like the dentist drill.
So there you have it! The new site starts, virtually indistinguishable from the original. Ceterus paribus, except the address and the title/sub-title. Don't diss it, you have no idea how long it took to come up with those four words. Though, we should not rule out the possibility that other people would be able to do it in two minutes, and I'm just incompetent.
No fanfare, no champagne, no confetti. Just a sort of...whimper.
I apologize.
Monday, September 05, 2005
The little boy that couldn't.
No
more worrying about things to do no
more weighing should and could no
more impatient waiting by the door no
more what i did what did you do
No
more planning and mock-rehearsing
the silly things you'd do at the wedding
the thank-you-for-comings and songs you'd sing
that you never told her about
None.
Amazing what can happen in so short a time, isn't it?
Well, there you go. I'm ambiguously single and available now, it seems. Affected me more than it should.
Than I thought it could.
more worrying about things to do no
more weighing should and could no
more impatient waiting by the door no
more what i did what did you do
No
more planning and mock-rehearsing
the silly things you'd do at the wedding
the thank-you-for-comings and songs you'd sing
that you never told her about
None.
Amazing what can happen in so short a time, isn't it?
Well, there you go. I'm ambiguously single and available now, it seems. Affected me more than it should.
Than I thought it could.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Revamp! Revamp!
"Thinking about changing the name, we are."
Bah. You people need to watch Eddie Izzard. Then I could just drop references and you'll all be laughing. Saves me a ton of work, that way. The above quote, for example, is hilarious.
No, really.
But, yes. Just as a brand of dog food for small yappy-type dogs made it big by changing its name from "Mr Dog" to "Cesar", so shall TehUneducated evolve. The new name will be...
TehGoat.
...what.
Goats are unique in a way few people see. Dogs bark. Cats meow. Cows moo. Notice the direct working of the actual sound into the word. But the goat! It does not emit anything that sounds like bleat, does it now?
Meh. Mehhhh. Mehhhhhhh.
That was an example, in case you had no idea what a goat sounds like, you see.
So there we go! Cute, horny, and sometimes ornery. Eats anything, too. Fuck with a frying pan if that's not me in two sentences.
Besides, TehUneducated is a mouthful to handle. Not the sort of name that rolls off the tongue, no. And I'm quite tired of trying to explain it as the running gag I mean it to be rather than some sort of complex I have.
Please adjust your television sets accordingly. It will very soon be tehgoat.blogspot.com that will entertain you with his high-pitched whining noises.
Verily, I say unto you:
Meh.
Bah. You people need to watch Eddie Izzard. Then I could just drop references and you'll all be laughing. Saves me a ton of work, that way. The above quote, for example, is hilarious.
No, really.
But, yes. Just as a brand of dog food for small yappy-type dogs made it big by changing its name from "Mr Dog" to "Cesar", so shall TehUneducated evolve. The new name will be...
TehGoat.
...what.
Goats are unique in a way few people see. Dogs bark. Cats meow. Cows moo. Notice the direct working of the actual sound into the word. But the goat! It does not emit anything that sounds like bleat, does it now?
Meh. Mehhhh. Mehhhhhhh.
That was an example, in case you had no idea what a goat sounds like, you see.
So there we go! Cute, horny, and sometimes ornery. Eats anything, too. Fuck with a frying pan if that's not me in two sentences.
Besides, TehUneducated is a mouthful to handle. Not the sort of name that rolls off the tongue, no. And I'm quite tired of trying to explain it as the running gag I mean it to be rather than some sort of complex I have.
Please adjust your television sets accordingly. It will very soon be tehgoat.blogspot.com that will entertain you with his high-pitched whining noises.
Verily, I say unto you:
Meh.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Pseudo-celebrity prelude.
And yes, the job begins to pay off.
There was a Walk-A-Jog today. Yes, another one. This was for the People's Children's Fund, and held at Bishan Park. I'd like to meet the first person who came up with fusing the organization of a mass walk and charity. Don't get me wrong, I think the cause is very noble. But do you see the connection?
It was organized by two Town Councils, and of course the Ministers for Parliament of each had to be there - including Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew!
I was a little hyped about it in the morning. In a few hours time, I would get to see the Man himself, in person. I have declared and been lambasted for my lack of interest in politics, but this was the Man. Forget that silly British man who tripped over us in 1819 - he just dug up the clay. Mr Lee was the potter.
...Or so the history books have me believe.
So, yes. I got to see him in person. Or rather, bits of him. From the moment he stepped off the car, he was mobbed. Singapore really loves him, it seems. I found it very amusing how the people I spoke to all referred to him as "EmmEmm". It's like he's lost his name. Mr Lee will do fine, thank you very much. EmmEmm indeed.
They also pronounce the Minster for the Environment's name, "Yakult". I don't know for sure, but is that how you pronounce something spelled "Yaacob"? It was cute the way one official said, "Yes, then Yakult will arrive... . Uh, sorry, I meant, Dr Yakult." I think she seriously was worried I'd go over and tell him.
I also had the most spectacular of my patented Fall-Flat jokes today. I was introduced to a rather prominent person.
PP: "...and yes, they had the place prepared a few days ago by pouring sand onto the grass to prevent it from becoming muddy."
Me: "Indeed? That's quite interesting! Do you know how much sand was involved, sir?"
PP: "No, you'll have to ask them about that. Why, though?"
Me: "Well I just thought it would be a good thing to say, you know. 'And they prepared the grounds by pouring twenty thousand tonnes of sand into it!' ."
PP: "Ha. Ha. Ha. I don't think they'll want you to say that."
He literally said "Ha. Ha. Ha." . It was possibly the most deprecating laughter I've ever heard. The irony is, I really did think it was a good idea to talk about the preparation of that field. Shows they thought about and put effort into it, you see.
I think he got where he was by laughing at his potential competition for promotion. That could stop a randy elephant dead in its tracks. Respect.
During the actual walk, the phrase cheebye Singaporeans, came to mind. Mostly the aunties, really. Repeatedly, I was shoved, jostled and smacked about while trying to take a good picture. They'd just barge into, and past you.
I don't get it. It's happened before, my being stuck in a huge packed crowd. And the pieces of shit who push, shove and poke you in the buttox with a sharp stick are always aunties. Do they all hit some kind of magic age where their brain just snaps and goes, "Right. I'm pushing 50 with a voice like nails on chalkboard, and there's no way I could look good if I tried. Fuck this - It's my way or the highway."
And then they put on the motorcycle helmets, get on their Harleys, light cigars and ride off.
Just unbelievably self-centred, some of them. There I was, being held back at arm's length by security people. I stand on my toes, hold my breath and focus the lens, waiting for a good moment to snap. It's coming. It's coming. IT'S...
-jab-
...
-jabjab pat arm-
I turn back to see if it was Mr Ancob wanting my attention for something important.
"eH boy your arm ah, can eksew me not?!!11," says the auntie whose face I turn into, pushing a camera into my face.
I gave her a look that hopefully conveyed the exact number of painful things she could do to herself before I ekskewed her and got back to trying to do my job, muttering under my breath.
And, yes, the pseudo-celebrities! I was an arm's length from Kelly Poon and Kelvin, the Project Superstar winners! Not really into these "Idol" spinoff winners in general. I am unable to continue eating my food if I happen to see Sylvester from the last one. He just rubs me the wrong way for some reason.
But Kelly very pretty.
And Kelvin has my respect and admiration. I couldn't imagine a life blind. He wins a singing competition in front of 8, 000 people. My metaphorical hat off to you, Kelvin.
I could have gotten a picture taken with them, yes. As many aunties did. But I just figured: if I start now, where's it going to stop? Screw it.
So that's a brief wrap of the day. When the film gets developed I'll try to wrangle and get it up, specially for you three people and small yappy-type dog who read this. Because I Care.
Inside joke, sorry.
I will conclude by saying I quite possibly have all my priorities in the wrong place. I go to an event like that, with a proper pass and everything. I am to take pictures, and write it up later. Mr Lee Kuan Yew, the man who helped build Singapore, is there. I am close enough to him to make out the leaf stuck in the back of his head. And the one thing that sticks out in my mind is...
...Dr Lily Neo very pretty, lah.
There was a Walk-A-Jog today. Yes, another one. This was for the People's Children's Fund, and held at Bishan Park. I'd like to meet the first person who came up with fusing the organization of a mass walk and charity. Don't get me wrong, I think the cause is very noble. But do you see the connection?
It was organized by two Town Councils, and of course the Ministers for Parliament of each had to be there - including Minister Mentor Lee Kuan Yew!
I was a little hyped about it in the morning. In a few hours time, I would get to see the Man himself, in person. I have declared and been lambasted for my lack of interest in politics, but this was the Man. Forget that silly British man who tripped over us in 1819 - he just dug up the clay. Mr Lee was the potter.
...Or so the history books have me believe.
So, yes. I got to see him in person. Or rather, bits of him. From the moment he stepped off the car, he was mobbed. Singapore really loves him, it seems. I found it very amusing how the people I spoke to all referred to him as "EmmEmm". It's like he's lost his name. Mr Lee will do fine, thank you very much. EmmEmm indeed.
They also pronounce the Minster for the Environment's name, "Yakult". I don't know for sure, but is that how you pronounce something spelled "Yaacob"? It was cute the way one official said, "Yes, then Yakult will arrive... . Uh, sorry, I meant, Dr Yakult." I think she seriously was worried I'd go over and tell him.
I also had the most spectacular of my patented Fall-Flat jokes today. I was introduced to a rather prominent person.
PP: "...and yes, they had the place prepared a few days ago by pouring sand onto the grass to prevent it from becoming muddy."
Me: "Indeed? That's quite interesting! Do you know how much sand was involved, sir?"
PP: "No, you'll have to ask them about that. Why, though?"
Me: "Well I just thought it would be a good thing to say, you know. 'And they prepared the grounds by pouring twenty thousand tonnes of sand into it!' ."
PP: "Ha. Ha. Ha. I don't think they'll want you to say that."
He literally said "Ha. Ha. Ha." . It was possibly the most deprecating laughter I've ever heard. The irony is, I really did think it was a good idea to talk about the preparation of that field. Shows they thought about and put effort into it, you see.
I think he got where he was by laughing at his potential competition for promotion. That could stop a randy elephant dead in its tracks. Respect.
During the actual walk, the phrase cheebye Singaporeans, came to mind. Mostly the aunties, really. Repeatedly, I was shoved, jostled and smacked about while trying to take a good picture. They'd just barge into, and past you.
I don't get it. It's happened before, my being stuck in a huge packed crowd. And the pieces of shit who push, shove and poke you in the buttox with a sharp stick are always aunties. Do they all hit some kind of magic age where their brain just snaps and goes, "Right. I'm pushing 50 with a voice like nails on chalkboard, and there's no way I could look good if I tried. Fuck this - It's my way or the highway."
And then they put on the motorcycle helmets, get on their Harleys, light cigars and ride off.
Just unbelievably self-centred, some of them. There I was, being held back at arm's length by security people. I stand on my toes, hold my breath and focus the lens, waiting for a good moment to snap. It's coming. It's coming. IT'S...
-jab-
...
-jabjab pat arm-
I turn back to see if it was Mr Ancob wanting my attention for something important.
"eH boy your arm ah, can eksew me not?!!11," says the auntie whose face I turn into, pushing a camera into my face.
I gave her a look that hopefully conveyed the exact number of painful things she could do to herself before I ekskewed her and got back to trying to do my job, muttering under my breath.
And, yes, the pseudo-celebrities! I was an arm's length from Kelly Poon and Kelvin, the Project Superstar winners! Not really into these "Idol" spinoff winners in general. I am unable to continue eating my food if I happen to see Sylvester from the last one. He just rubs me the wrong way for some reason.
But Kelly very pretty.
And Kelvin has my respect and admiration. I couldn't imagine a life blind. He wins a singing competition in front of 8, 000 people. My metaphorical hat off to you, Kelvin.
I could have gotten a picture taken with them, yes. As many aunties did. But I just figured: if I start now, where's it going to stop? Screw it.
So that's a brief wrap of the day. When the film gets developed I'll try to wrangle and get it up, specially for you three people and small yappy-type dog who read this. Because I Care.
Inside joke, sorry.
I will conclude by saying I quite possibly have all my priorities in the wrong place. I go to an event like that, with a proper pass and everything. I am to take pictures, and write it up later. Mr Lee Kuan Yew, the man who helped build Singapore, is there. I am close enough to him to make out the leaf stuck in the back of his head. And the one thing that sticks out in my mind is...
...Dr Lily Neo very pretty, lah.
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