not the first time. 6:54 pm

The orange scar across the greying evening sky was so beautiful.

There she sits, the soft orange lights of he restaurant falling pleasantly on her fair Chinese skin, the almond-shaped Oriental face that white men lust for since the colonials set sail from the European shores.

courtesy of deviantart.com

Her fine jet black eye-lashes and the scarlet lips all the more beautiful against that gentle face. Her dark eyes all the more intense against that porcelain. She sips her tea. I cannot deny the soft jazz playing in the background adds to this romantic notion.

There is a flash of light in the near distance; a small digital metalbox just captured a 12-megapixel memory.

She stares intensely at her Macbook; her jasmine eyes all the more alluring; she is more than a pretty-face. She is a flower of intellect.

Another flash goes off.

Her dark hair is carefully parted down the centre. She makes grace look so easy; the way she leans to one side, the way she gets up ever so gently. She calls the waiter over and speaks to him; I can only stare at her lips move up and down like a aphrodisiac as they part to reveal white porcelain teeth and a world of possibilities.

A world of possibilities with limited probabilities.

I wish I could sit and sketch a portrait of her, knowing full well that whatever the canvas produces will not in one bit do her justice. But at the very least it serves as a reminder of the possibility of human beauty. Her pearl earrings capture my attention. Simple pearls. Beauty in simplicity. My heart tightens a little as my eyes sketch her perfect nose. At least from here, she looks perfect; you never know in the age of prevalent cosmetics. Its a plastics world.

"if a face could launch a thousand ships..."

But I must go; I have to drive off back to reality, and only allow her to reside in my what-ifs. For now. The shift from possibility to probability sometimes is one that is beyond our control.

courtesy of deviantart.com

Uncle T

i have an infatuation its so bad! 10:45 am

The WikiReader

When I saw it, my breathing literally stopped. I barely blinked. And as much as my church friends would be upset with me for it, the only words that escaped my mouth were "holy shit..."

I am infatuated. Crap! And its so bad I had to blog about it immediately. Gosh. I really want one of these. Someone, anyone, get it for me for Christmas! I rarely ask for gifts but...Gosh! I need one of these.

See my new darling's homepage: http://www.thewikireader.com/index.html

Uncle T

one of those funny emails 8:54 pm

I usually trash all emails starting with "Fwd"; they often tend to come from a bored father or mother. But there was this one Daddy sent I thought was funny on a bad day. Hope you enjoy:

European English:

The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility.

As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5- year phase-in plan that would become known as "Euro-English" .

In the first year, "s" will replace the soft "c". Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy. The hard "c" will be dropped in favour of "k". This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter. There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced with "f". This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter.

In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.

Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.

Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.

By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as
replasing "th" with "z" and "w" with "v".

During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou" and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensi bl riten styl.

Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.

Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.

If zis mad you smil, pleas pas on to oza pepl.



Uncle T

i never thought i could be so proud 8:43 pm

I started working 3 days after I flew in from a foreign land. After 3 years, I literally parachuted into a new life, a new job. Now, 3 months on, I never thought I could feel so proud of the work I've been doing.

Small as my contribution may be, this has been on my mind, along with the other racing thoughts.

But here's one to the great team I work with, and continue to do the good work we do, regardless what people say.

Cheers: http://www.straitstimes.com/Breaking%2BNews/Singapore/Story/STIStory_441206.html


Uncle T

a past i never knew, a future i've yet to know. 11:47 pm

It was going to a past I never knew.

that dry, bland feeling

Away from the weekend leisure crowd, I found myself in a stuffy van on a bumpy village road in Batam. Irene and I were on our way to teaching the children English.

Household refuse was burnt next to the narrow village road; children ran amock along with the free-ranging ayam (chicken in Malay); local community pockets coalescing around street stores. It felt like going back to a past I never knew; daddy would have found this familiar.

the kids helping themselves to fruits from a roadside tree; simple pleasures | batam, indonesia

boys helping themselves to sweets at the village roadside store | batam, indonesia

So this is how I spent my Sunday; I was thrown into a classroom of eager eyes staring at me; 20 pairs to be exact. Armed with no lesson plan, a marker, a dictionary and 5 sheets of paper, I made my confession to the kids. In halting Bahasa Indonesia, I admitted that I needed to learn the language as much as they wanted to learn English from me.

Sadly, I have no romantic notions of charity to share from teaching little children etc. Perhaps because I am sticky and stuck standing on the train home. All I can take back for now is not a warm glow of charity but rather literally sapped from the scorching heat and with Batam sand on the soles of my shoes. And feeling abit guilty for the Nikes on my feet amidst the humble settings of the village community.

Yet despite that fuzzy feel-good, I'm wanting to go back. To face the heat, the flies, the climbing and screaming kids. I don't know why, but I want to. Nope, no burning desire, just a dry, bland 'think I want to go back'-ish feeling.

irene leading the kids on an outdoor lesson under the scorching sun | batam, indonesia

the children i taught refusing to go home and instead tailing me | batam, indonesia

being back in the sloshing humdrum

The sun is setting as the MRT chugs along past Ang Mo Kio. The quiet streets beneath are however antithetical to the racing thoughts in my heads.

Poems from Kabul, snippets from Beijing, comments from social circles, ponderings about Warwick, artistic strain...there has been so much input in the past weeks, perhaps an overload. My mind is being packed with so much yet not finding the time and space to process it all. The thoughts are like harpoons latching onto my mental walls. It is close to hurting, yet also close to numbing. It doesn't help with John Mayer playing in my earphones.

slowing down to catch glimpses of faces | dhoby ghaut, singapore

“Walao, super emo la!” I say it nearly as if I were embarrassed to be “emo”. Should I really be? Of late, it seems I am embarrassed about things; being a certain way and being sheepish about it. I wonder why.

I wonder when can I say I’m truly comfortable in my own skin. I wander if anyone can say that at all and mean it sincerely all of the time. I do wonder.

That is probably a future I have yet to know.

racing by | orchard rd, singapore

Uncle T

tiny little hands into mine 1:36 am

Somehow, I manage to float
Into a place so familiar this weekend;
Float into a familiar place with
Familiar faces, family.

So many years ago it still stands
Today. Today, the garden is now space
Which my lovely princesses dance under
The watchful gaze of the Saturday stars.

As my parents watch on, I step into that
Space I once ran, I once played.
Tonight, that is done by the two girls.
They smile at me, I smile back.

It is an amazing feeling when they
Want to follow everywhere you go,
Wanting to impress you with their
Graceful dance moves.

They focus so hard just to recite the
Alphabet. And they run from behind
And slip their tiny little hands into mine.
I melt.

Their tiny little hands into mine.

Uncle T