there is a time and season for everything 9:49 pm

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die, 
a time to plant and a time to uproot, 
a time to kill and a time to heal, 
a time to tear down and a time to build, 
a time to weep and a time to laugh, 
a time to mourn and a time to dance, 
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, 
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 
a time to search and a time to give up, 
a time to keep and a time to throw away, 
a time to tear and a time to mend, 
a time to be silent and a time to speak,


And I am truly truly blessed in the time I was allowed to know you. 




Uncle T

CurryTalk Digest #9 12:46 pm

Hello friends!

Welcome to a re-branded 9th issue of the former KopiTalk Digest. Now outsourced to Delhi, this CurryTalk Digest should start getting interesting. Other than some people commenting they enjoy the articles, still haven't received any saying that they would like to contribute articles. So please do let me know if you want to share certain articles :)

about KopiTalk CurryTalk
in the spirit of sharing in our age of social media, wanted to share ideaspirations and random bits of info with like-mindeds. hopefully these bits of info may inspire creativity and innovation in seemingly unrelated work and tasks we do everyday. feel free to share ideas and more with this digest, and would be happy to share with others. everything is hopefully bite-size especially in the deluge of information today in the digital world.

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Bye-bye Happy Meals in San Fran
US authorities are banning toys to be served with meals above 600 calories, so that means good-bye for Happy Meals for MacDonald's US as these are around 640 calories. See article here.



Inflated job-titles: not just a local phenomena
The Economist has noted that having inflated titles is a worldwide phenomena. The person in the lead at the moment is Kim Jong Il, who has 1,200 titles to his name including "guardian deity of the planet". But on the serious side of things, it was noted that job-titles are tied to the sense of ownership people had to their jobs, and hence tied to job performance. Perhaps this latter point is a serious point to note in our companies here, big or small. Check out this very interesting read here.

Innovation in leisure: swimming in garbage (trucks)
How does swimming in a garbage truck sound for innovation? Well, that is exactly what Brooklyn is doing on its streets this summer. Check that out here. Can we do something similar along Orchard Rd? Sure! After clearing perhaps 4 government agencies and equal-or-more number of licences we just might. But I also do wonder if our local sponsors will be as generous as the New York's.



Powerpoint Presso 101: learn from Steve Jobs
Here's a quick analysis of Jobs' latest presso in response to iPhone 4's antennaegate saga. There are a number of points to learn. but one that really jumps up that we possibly might learn is that there should be no bullet points in presentation slides, because every page should contain only a single idea. Many might disagree, but its still worth a quick glance of the article here.

Uncle T

doors closing... 12:35 pm

The UK government is closing its doors on skilled immigrants. And my fear is that it might be closing the coffin on itself doing so.

My immediate reaction is disappointment, and I guess each of us is entitled to an emotional reaction to such matters. Especially with thoughts in the near future possibly working in London, this tighter cap on skilled non-EU immigrants into the UK is disappointing.

According to the BBC report I read (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-11816979), though not explicit, it seems to be a sound policy decision after some gurus do magical calculations, they arrive at certain figures and go "yup, let's stop the immigration of these skilled folks, especially those from outside the EU". With no hard facts to back this claim however, I do believe that non-EU skilled labour (from the US and Asia) significantly contribute to the companies and economies based in London (http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-11783973). When a time London's appeal as a global financial centre is still shaky from the financial fall-out, I'm not too sure this is a wise policy move.

Policy makers are banking on the fact that local British will get their skills up, so that City-based companies will not have to look abroad for talents. I find this slightly amusing when just on the back of this the government is fiddling with university school-fees cap, making it more expensive for local students to study at university. How these 2 policies meet, I'm not quite sure.

But I suspect these Oxbridge alumni in the government are not silly people. I am sure they know this might not be economically sound at a time when the UK needs to shore up on that front. Perhaps there is more political agenda thrown into the mix than I would like.

Whilst I was in the UK, I had a suspicion that many British, especially the young believe that immigrants and foreigners (the Polish perhaps and me yellow-skinned) were taking away their jobs; typical starting point of xenophobia. And that same sense of insecurity/ arrogance and I probably think fear might be reflected in what  Home Secretary Theresa May said:


"Working in Britain for a short period should not give someone the right to settle in Britain. Studying a course in Britain should not give someone the right to settle in Britain.

"Settling in Britain should be a cherished right, not an automatic add-on to a temporary way in."

Whilst I understand there have been abuses to the system, and policy-wise and politically-wise is very undesirable, responding in this manner is tantamount to being a grumpy old grandmother who's had little children run into her garden and in the process of bringing life and vitality to her cottage, tramples on the flower-bed. But that's just my take. I cannot comprehend how this might be a decision made by a sophisticated nation. Or is it?

For Britain to think that it can depend on its own youth given the current state of affairs, I'm worrying. Though not representative, I met a British traveling through India who said "Britain is really not the place to be at the moment; I'm thinking of Australia". Looking at Coventry town filled with babies in prams and the bellies of pubescent single-mothers, I do worry.

I can only hope that politicians in the UK do the right thing for its people, and not merely try to do things right in their short-sighted term in office. Oh well, but what more can you expect from politicians anyway.

Uncle T

debates of emotion 8:32 pm

I feel so rusty commenting on politics; burying myself in theoretical political science seems a distant memory. But that doesn't stop the homo politicus, the innate political man within me react to what I chanced upon today.

I stumbled upon a BBC recording of the parliamentary debate between Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg and Labour Party's Harriet Harmann. This debate was regarding the recent uproar in England over the raising of university fees-cap by nearly 3 times.

As I was watching this 30-minute clip, I found myself enjoying it so much. The verbal sparring between the two candidates was not only hilarious, but also engaging in a very British way. It really reminded be of the heart-stopping days of debating for Warwick at Varsity Debates. Thrilling, those. Some may consider pompous; intellectual sparring just for ego-kicks and not necessarily providing compelling ways forward on the issues we spit and yell at each other over. The House of Commons was jeering, cheering as thousands protested outside Parliament over this issue.

But wait a minute. Hang on. This verbal sparring between the two, filled with emotion and passion, quick retorts, peppered with sarcasm, wasn't Varsity Debates. This was Parliament of a first-world, archaic as the terminology may be, democratic country. This was a debate, amongst others, a debate of emotions. Sure, the points they made made reasonable sense, but I am certain under such circumstances of crowds jeering, it was all about winning the point of the argument, of the debate, rather than working towards a solution for the betterment of the nation.

So are parliamentary debates just a political circus, where politicians stage a show to their constituency voters that they are passionately fighting for their stands, or are parliamentary debates truly the basis for policy making? If its the later, I'm worried.

Perhaps you've got to watch the clip yourself to understand my concerns: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-11724842

The way both party representatives take jabs at each other, mocking, sarcastically, it would take a saint to ignore these, rise above and talk about finding real solutions in a dispassionate scientific reasoning; isn't that what we were thought scientific societies are built upon. reasonable and rational individuals?

Since the time of the Greeks, fair and reasonable logic is meant to permeate the laws that would govern the democratic people who have given the government a mandate to rule over them.

But what I saw in the debate today was one of emotion and pride. Perhaps that is the way things are meant to be in the real-world, and I should just pack my ideals and go home. Or perhaps, just maybe, the governance of England has been in shambles in the last few years because of degradation into the elites in society taking their turn in ivory-tower ego-sparring, at the cost of its people.

Perhaps. I sure hope I'm wrong.


Uncle T

a fertile mind 2:25 pm

Many of us know that the white iPhone 4 is coming out only next year in 2011. I knew that, seeing that it was all across the global tech news.

But how did I not think of turning this delay into a 6-figure business? New Yorker Phil Lam has done just that with his website www.whiteiphone4now.com. Simply purchase parts he sells on the website, and you can convert your existing black iPhone into a white iPhone NOW? Why wait till 2011?



Sure, he is getting nervy now about possible legal infringements selling these parts, and incurring the wrath of his very religion Apple-ism, but I'm struggling to think what clicked in his head to turn a piece of information known to nearly the whole world interested in technology, into a profit-making business? Read his interview here.

But its not just him. Inventors and entrepreneurs throughout time have done the same: take a simple piece of information/ knowledge that nearly everybody else knows, link it to other ideas that other people already know, and then create and invent something that changes the face of the future. Its nearly (just nearly) the same as God taking a man's rib, throw in a little speck of dust, and voila! Eve. Not wanting to be sacrilegious, but wanting to emphasise the power within our hands to create, and creations that would be life-changing. Just think how wonder-kid Mark Zuckerberg, classics and history buff, who invented Facebook from his college dorm room.

What makes the mind of these individuals so fertile that a seed idea falls there, and it grows into a behemoth oak? Why do zillions of seeds fall on mine only to have bean-sprouts grow? What makes their minds so fertile? Perhaps Econometrics might have a glimpse of the answer. Or perhaps no machine, nor science, may crack this.

Maybe I should just drink ammonium nitrate :)


Uncle T

forgetting to dream. 11:06 am

I’ve always been a sucker for romance, a hopeless romantic. Hopeless. I sit here, alone in my apartment, watching the Singaporean romance-movie “The Leap Years” for the second time.

I rarely watch a movie twice, at least not by choice. But tonight, I did.

Friends used to shake their heads at me for being the Romeo-lover. Overly idealistic with love, Petrarchan, stupidly romantic, believing in true love. I used to dream about love, and falling into its cauldrons willingly. Poems, flowers, hidden post-cards in bags, singing love songs in the dark, writing love tunes…But I’ve forgotten a lot of that now.

Sure, my lips still speak the same language, one that sometimes rolls of the tongue as how we sometimes never do us consciously how do we actually know how to ride a bike, but just get on and go. My poems, the rare occasions that I do write, are more mechanical than art. My pen just writes a few words and instead of completing the sentence on the same line, just moves to the next with practiced, numbed instinct. Poetry. I have forgotten how to dream about love. Pride and lust have filled the place where pure romantic love used to reside within me.

I don’t know why. Or perhaps I do know parts of the answer already. It could simply be a natural part of growing up, dampening ideals with the cynicism of adulthood.

But whatever may be the reason, or reasons, I want it back. I want to dream about love again. What hope does this cruel modern world hold if we cannot even dream of beauty in love? The relationship that we share with our loved ones may be imperfect, but that does not prevent the love we share with each other as whole, complete and perfect. And when we dream, when I dream, we’ve got to let the chains of coy schooled-trepidation fall away, and just dream all the way. Dream as though you’ll live forever, live as though you’ll die tomorrow.

I want to dream about love again. When I write a love letter, say I miss you, I want each word to have that same warm-glow in me as it did when I was 15. Now I have another chance, with my café girl. I’m going to take it.

Uncle T

the next time you use a napkin... 7:56 pm

Even in our over-digitised lives, there is still room for the paper and pen. 

When I first heard about napkin pitches some years back, I was intrigued. The concept is that if you cannot sell your business model to a venture capitalist within the space of a napkin over dinner, you had better re-think your business idea. It was all about capturing the essence, the succinct crux of the business, within that short window, much like an elevator pitch. Since then, I've prepared "Napkins" for topics whilst studying in university; the succinct salient points that I need to know for each chapter.

Here is a NYTimes site that pays homage to this concept as well: capturing snapshots of financial advise on napkins. Enjoy: http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/your-money/carl-richards-gallery.html?ref=your-money.

Better yet, how about a book dedicated to napkins and visual thinking? :)

Uncle T

it just keeps getting bigger. 1:56 pm

As some of you might know, I'm in the business of tourism. Part of what the Tourism Board does, and has to do, is continually push for the next big idea that will draw in the ever-demanding, ever-savvy bunch of travelers of the future.

Singapore continually reaches for the sky when it comes to tourism ideas. In fact, sometimes I do wonder if we do a dis-favour to ourselves my setting ourselves benchmarks that we are continually pressed to outdo.

But surely, competing with other cities on the basis of "bigger" and "larger" and "world's first" might not necessarily be a sustainable strategy. Just take a look at the latest Abu Dhabi added onto the global tourism map. A behemoth.

No. In this current world milieu, we have to move away from a strategy of building 'bigger and better' tourism products. We need to accept the reality that Singapore is well, Singapore; an island state.

Perhaps the way forward is to be an inspirational city; for our given size and circumstances, we have gone beyond what was dreamed possible for our limitations, and have become an inspiration. It is a very bold side-step, but possibly one we necessarily need to do if we want to continue to compete into the future.

Why try keep competing building better bicycles, trying to leap-frog the rest, and build the world's best bicycles? Why not start building spaceships instead?



Uncle T

sporeboyindelhi 10:22 am

Dear friends,

Having moved to Delhi for a year, you can follow my Delhi-specific journey at http://sporeboyindelhi.tumblr.com.

This blog will still exist, but Delhi-specific thoughts shall be penned there :)

Uncle T

C'est la vie 2:07 am

With nothing to lose but the security of comfort zones, I await take-off.

Cinema, technology, TV and a connected world allows my imagination to get creative on what my Delhi experience might be.

But I go with no guidebook, only pre-conceived ideas I struggle to throw out. But that's unrealistic, to throw it all out. And so I do second-best and be prepared to let Delhi shape the year ahead.

Armed with just a rusty sense of adventure, a belief in Love and the Faith, I close my eyes into the unknown. C'est la vie.

A decision. 8:16 pm

It felt as if it were already mine.

And when I decided to let it go against my passion, it hurt like salt on a raw wound. I bit down on my already-dried lips. My body hesitated, unsure, but a drowning voice of reasonable prudence called out. The cartoons with angel on one shoulder horned angel on the other are not exaggerating.

In the end, I'm sure not wholly based on my own strength, I walked away. Initially I felt numb, as if I suffered a great loss, cheated. Like someone gave me a gift and then snatched it away. Ripped from me.

Then a seed of pride slowly took root; I had made a choice that was more discerning despite it against my passions. This time I followed my head and spurned my heart. No. I followed my head only if wisdom resides there. This time, I made a wise choice.

I guess that is what sets us apart from animals. Many behave based largely on instinct. There is less discernment, less contemplation in animals. Purely banal. And it felt good to affirm my humanity with this decision.

Wah what big decision is this that requires so much drama? Its merely the decision not to buy a camera lens I want so much, and delaying its purchase only until Ive hit my savings target.

But its not always how big or small a decision is that matters so much. Rather, its more meaningful to see how these decisions are made, big or small.

Perfume of memories 8:55 am

That scent. I knew it from somewhere! And when my mind remembered, the memories it brought made me ache.

I closed my eyes as the perfume scent triggered flashes of memories. They made me ache; at once beautiful and painful. But the pain was a numb pain, not acute.

It was her scent. One I knew daily; from the living room to her study room; from the kitchen to frontdoor. Back then, I knew that scent by instinct. It naturally brought comfort, comfort of her company.

Her scent brought back memories, but she no longer was here. Sure, its a nice scent. But now it triggered merely memories; recollection, not longing. I am grateful to know the scent, to have known it intimately. But it was time to let go. Not letting go would be allowing sentimentality to clasp its shackles on my feet, not letting me move on.

I don't think the scent will lose its effect on me. But its time to let that merely be a nice memory to store at the back of the cupboard.

Daily Battle 10:02 am

The grey canvas stretched across the sky like an endless grey-carpet. The urban skyline sentinels on the ready. Beads of rain escaped the canvas like the first-dusts of a looming battle.

And I heave a sigh as I brace for the day's battle ahead, weapon at the ready, awaiting the first clash of steel and blood. I close my eyes to reach for the distant puddle of hope. There it was, I see it; the beautiful sunrise after this battle is done. That would be my puddle of hope.

I hear the first war-cry as my computer boots up, and I run into battle.

Urge to linger, bookshop 7:34 pm

I didn't need to, but the urge was too strong.

It was still bright outside; leaving the office with sunlight hitting my face felt foreign, nearly unreal. Iwas heading home.

Then I passed the bookstore near the train station. I hesitated towards the bookstore; my logical mind was processing through the mental pages of task lists to see if I needed to go to the bookstore. No need.

Somehow, I found my feet walking towards the bookstore; I was in. My irrational compulsion overcame authority over the rational cerebral mush. I was going to the bookstore not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. Though I didn't knw why I was drawn to the booksyore.

Perhaps it reminded me of the dusty quaint Leicester Square bookstores of London. Perhaps it was the urge to people-watch as they browse books; there is something different in their eyes as they stare down pages, as if staring into a different universe. Perhaps it was the irrational itch to buy a book though I know it was cheaper to buy online and that Ill likely not read the book till a year later. Perhaps it was the comforting feeling of walking along aisles lined with shelves of knowledge and bits of our world waiting to be discovered. Perhaps its the imagination that bookstores inspire in me. Perhaps.

Whatever the perhaps may be, I took a one-round stroll through the bookstore. Before I knew it, time to head home.

I swear I feel a little more warm and fuzzy inside each time I walk into a bookstore and linger in its aisles. And my brain ticks differently; it seems to forget linearity and explodes into possibilities. Miss that.

The stirring of the gentlest of breezes 7:03 pm

I stare at the spreading red dot on my Indian cotton. I shake my head in a half smile at where beef stew should not have been. It's been a long week as many have been in the last few months. So I guess I was allowed the stew slip-up.

I jump into a cab on a Friday and speed away from Arab St. It turns out to be a quiet evening, and I'm surprisingly pleased that it is.

I caught a movie at lunch today,  a local movie. And despite the relative short time it took of my day, it made a difference to my day. The movie stirred something in me, as gently a leave may tingle in the gentlest of breezes.

It reminded me to dream. It reminded that its okay to be romantic. We live in a forgetful world where it buries all that is pink, fluffy and cotten-candyish deep within the silent stores of iur hearts where hardly any light reaches. So we need such reminders; the Singaporean movie let light into that deep cellar that working life has helped darken. I was reminded of fighting for romantic love, not simply going with convenient love. Love had to be fought for, with scars and hurts.

And then I was reminded of her. Her somewhere now in Venice, her somewhere holding the spare key to that dark cellar where all the pink and fluffy were stored. With friends all around wearing pessimism as if it was the latest fashion trend, I do stop and wonder sometimes whether convenient live was the only real love in our world today. "Long distance relationship? Good luck man," I can still hear them say.

Has consumer technology of today turned against us? Have we humans spawned our very own doomsday? What technology has done was make daily living more convenient and supposedly more efficient. But have we allowed this thirst for convenience gnaw into certain areas that is not always about convenience and efficiency? Love, ethics, literature...

I don't know. Do you?

Insurance for expectations 1:56 pm

Never let your expectations build. Because when they get smashed, no one can compensate you for them, no one. No comfort will fill the emptiness that follows, no pin will be able to prick the numbness that follows. You can at least buy insurance for a car or for a house. But none for expectations.

Today, I had my expectations shattered and had to accept it with grace. And my only fault in all this was allowing my expectations to build.

No comfort. Just a walk under a blazing workday afternoon sun; I caught myself literally looking around for someone I could burst my disappointment on. No one. I decided that this had to be done alone. Besides, othees may try to comfort me through rational reasons why I should not let this affect me. But such matters are hardly a matter of pure rationality is it?

I have rationalised the emotions I felt after this incident over a comforting home-cooked meal. But the sting of the emotions will linger, and serve as a reminder. But life goes on, so does the work-week.

same place, different men 12:21 am

It has been more than a year. Gavin and I met in the Birmingham seminary, Oscott College.


I still recall how unwillingly I dragged myself from university and onto the train that Easter weekend. I was meant to go to the College on Friday morning, and I was only lugging a suitcase onto the Birmingham-bound train that Saturday morning. Why should I go? Don't I have better things to do? Exams were approaching, I needed to study. There were all the right reasons for me to to go for this Easter retreat at the local seminary where they trained Catholic priests. Was there even a reason for me to go? Yet somehow, the guilt for not accepting the invitation to go for this paid-for retreat was too much to bear that Friday evening.


I took the local train from Coventry to Birmingham, passing all the small towns I never knew existed in my three years there in the Midlands. Perhaps there was so much of my surroundings I missed being so engrossed in my own tiny life.


The typical cold English wind was typical that morning, biting through my coat and scarf. With a print-out from Google Maps in hand, luggage in the other, I made my way across the industrial suburb on foot, passing pub and electrical store and landscaping company. Finally, I saw its sign; Oscott College. A tall door of wood and steel seemed to suddenly appear amidst a very tall hedge. I cross the road; you would had to stare very hard to make out what the signage to the handsome door. Feeling absolutely tiny compared to the door, and with flashes of frightful scenes out of childhood cartoons, I rang the electronic doorbell. Announcing my name and intent, the electronic locks released, and the door jumped open. I pushed open the ajar door and stepped in. The door slammed behind me.


Without over-dramatising, what sat before was like a scene out of Robin Hood or some Harry Potter scene. There were two paths before me, one left one right. One couldn't make out where the paths started or ended as the brown leaves from the towering trees above strewn the entire grounds for as far as the eye could see. Only eyelets of the ground beneath showed up amidst the leave-carpet. I took the right path.

After passing a shed on the right and some small low-rise buildings to my left, I could literally hear the sounds of the city slowly fading behind me, along with that gate. It wouldn't surprise me if the gate was built that big as a metaphor to the great divide between this mysteriously alluring compound and the harsh world out there. As my luggage's wheels jabbed itself with the fallen leaves, my foliage on the left slowly revealed a stone building. As it slowly came into view, it was truly a magnificent Oxford-ish building of about 3 storeys. I was awed as I stood staring at its centuries-old facade. Standing there still digesting the sight before me, I spun around for another hit; there lay a long stretch of flat green fields and beyond that, the city of Birmingham stretched out before me. It was as if the city was bowing towards Oscott College which sat on a slight hill.


But it was at this seminary I met Gavin, the Manchester-born Irish construction worker. Charming bloke with a smile that told you he knew how the extent of his charisma. The confidence of his shaven head matched that sparkle in his eye, that you can't resist but feel sheepish when it catches your stares. Yet amidst his easy charm and his equally easy admittance to all indulging in all the hedonisms this life could offer, that was something good in his eyes, something earnest and truthful. Gavin, like the 10 others there at the retreat, was considering priesthood. I suspect I'm the only one in the retreat who hadn't decided on priesthood.

What struck me about Gavin on our walks when he shared his life, was how real a person the bloke was. He's like you and me, as sinful, as tempted; in fact I think he has led a more hedonistic life than two of mine. Yet, this young man found God, and now is even taking a step further.

Today, I'm proud to say Gavin is going to start his formal discernment as a priest-in-training. He is off to a Spanish seminar. I am so glad, joyous, for him.

But funny how we both were at Oscott more than a year ago. A year later, here I am fat, unkempt, tired, whilst Gavin is excited about laying his entire life down for God. Truly, we might start at the same place, but end up being very different men.

Uncle T

His voice in a foreign land 11:53 pm

"...being placed in a foreign land takes away distractions of the routines we've built around ourselves.

it provides you a place to be so intimate with yourself that you hear the echoes of your soul. and its possibly only in circumstances as these that you'll hear His voice, and what He has to say to you."

Uncle T

woman. 12:47 pm

"by this gesture a woman invites us: come, follow me, and you don't know where she is inviting you to go and she doesn't know either, but she invites you in the conviction that it's worth going where she is inviting you. that's why i tell you: either woman will become man's future or mankind will perish, because only woman is capable of nourishing within her an unsubstantiated hope and inviting us to a doubtful future, which we would have long ceased to believe in were it not for women." 

- immortality, milan kundera


thank you jamie for this :)

Uncle T

Fragility of the body 1:49 pm

Its so fragile, this thing called life. Heard of it? Yup, life. It is so ubiquituous to our being and daily selfs one cannot be faulted for even noticing it is what it is, let alone remember how fragile it is.

I've always admired the human body, our humanness. How these different organs come together like an intended design of a perfect machine, everything in perfect balance. How parts that are meant to be hard is hard, and how parts that are meant to be soft are soft; fingernails-earlobes, teeth-nostrils. Designed to perfection.

Yet the human body, our humanness, is so fragile. Sure, I understand our human being is more than the physical. We are body, mind and soul. But I don't think I'll be blamed for noticing the fragility of the human body, especially in a material world that embellishes the physical. A cut on the skin at the right place can make you bleed to death. I have this perennial fear when I feel my veins pulse in my neck that they would burst anytime and I might die. Yet this is the body that can run marathons if we will it to.

He lay there, fragile and unrecognisable. Where once were the recesses of a pronounced jaw, there was now bloated skin. Where once was a enthusiastic and creative character, there was now a frail body, comatosed. Skin and bone amongst the machines. Where his kidneys were was now a void, empty. The machine with the spinners next to his bed was now his kidneys. Machines. Doctors said he was on life-support; the machines were giving him life.

No, it cannot be. The machines were merely helping him. He was alive because he is fighting based on his human will deep inside that skin and bone. We are individual beings not only because of our anatomical construct, but more so that being of emotion, intellect and will. Yet science has yet to find a way to house the human being without the human body. That our being is a function of our body; we cant store ourselves outside our bodies. Perhaps one day we might.

'The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak'.

...and so for the 5th time. 10:36 pm

"And so for the 5th time, they part and say goodbye. Like the previous 4 times, they didn't know when they would next meet. Somehow, this time there no tears. Perhaps this time more confident that the old cliche might finally have some truth in it: parting is such sweet sorrow.

'Come what may' sounds painfully beautiful rather than pure resignation to a fatalistic view.

And so for the 5th time, they part and say goodbye. Till they meet again."



Uncle T

right back where we started... 2:35 am

We waited for the storm to fall. The clouds gathered till the night sky turned white. The clouds became the canvas upon which the lighting choreographed its tropical movement. The wind played its part by rustling the leaves and disturbing the calm serenity of the water.

We were right back where we started, but only different this time. The storm did not come, only mere droplets of drizzle. Perhaps the storm is still brewing, and will take time before it pours its eternity upon the earth. We wait.

We wait for our chance. Show us only half of it and we will seize it.



Uncle T

Removing my security blanket 8:21 pm

I finished work early today. Relatively. Ended at 7.30pm. Do you think its worrying that I actually felt uneasy ending early? I'll admit, I actually felt uneasy finishing work early. Have I developed a habit in engulfing myself in work that it feel unnerving when I don't have the blanket of work to make me feel secure?

I think its slightly worrying.

I finish past ten closer to midnight more nights these days that the equation is simple. Finish work asap, rush home to shower and turn in for yet another early start. When I end work early, that simple formula breaks down.

Its quite funny really to find myself at a lost when I have slightly more time to myself. :) Funny. But keep this up and I won't be finding this as funny anymore

hope past midnight 1:31 am

"...well maybe there's a ledge underneath."

"it's your hill to climb. but you're not alone. remember, you're not alone.
give me half the chance to fight for you, with you, and i will."

"but when will you know when to stop?"



Uncle T

uncertainty past midnight 1:29 am

"right now i feel like im standing on the edge of a cliff. that's my present.
 i don't know...just i guess my future now is more uncertain than its ever been...
its like climbing that hellvelyn. its so damn foggy and i cant see a thing.
im not expecting it to be clear blue skies and all. i wouldnt want it to be that way.
just right now,
i really dont have a clue. and im completely lost."

"i don't wanna let you go."


Uncle T

ramblings past midnight 1:27 am

funny how we choose not to look at the possibilities ahead
which seem endless
but in that way, its a hopefulness full of uncertainty
one that is deceptively within our control yet perhaps not so
the past however seems so much more certain. because it has happened.
and standing at the present is the great balancing act
of looking backwards and forwards, both a gift and a mystery.
and with life made up always of tiny moments of the present, life is really a mystery to be lived.
yet my humanness often mistakes it for a problem to be solved.
the faith in the Divine so fragile.
-the end-



Uncle T

Pint on a weekday 8:44 pm

Sitting alone in an Irish pub in Singapore. To my left and right, pockets of companions and friends. Its just me and my pint of Heineken. Holland and Denmark are about to kick-off their World Cup campaign on the screens. There is the perennial buzz from the live sound feed, but there is also that anticipation, earnest, in the pub too. Orange shirts dot the pub; Dutch support. That's what football does; you suddenly adopt nationalistic pride of a nation you possibly know nuts about other than some of its football players.

I sip on my pint; beer is only nice ice-cold. That means I'll never really love it. I like it only when its in a particular condition of being cold. That means I'm attracted to it, but not in love. I'm in love only when I love something in all its possible states; I love it for what it is fundamentally regardless of its condition. Perhaps its the same for people. Attraction and love; similar, but different.

Half-time. There are no goals, and I'm half-pint done with my Heineken. The pockets of friends around have grown slightly louder with the liquid-freedom alcohol provides, And still its just me and my half-pint.

Yet somehow the solitude doesn't seem to bother me: not this evening at least. Perhaps its only just this evening. But I should be used to this by now; I used to watch Liverpool matches alone in England too. But I suspect I could never fully get used to perpetual solitude. Can anyone?

Perhaps I'm living off the energy and spirit I regained coming back from my short trip to Melaka over the weekend. I surely know the company there helped inspire my bounce again. I like myself positive and full of optimism and energy. Challenge is to find a constant inspiration in keeping that way in good times and in bad. I long for that sustainable and consistent source of strength and confidence. Perhaps I already know the answer, and only need the stillness of mind and heart to seek it and own it. I want to have ownership of that source of strength.

I take a swig of my Heineken. Its starting to lose its chill. But the match continues...

Hopefully next week 8:43 am

The irony, the irony. I have been so busy and occupied by work I hardly have had time to pen my thoughts and recollections. Until I forget to bring something important to work and rush home from the office to get it. Am now in the cab rushing home to pick it up, and I have found time to pen my thoughts.

It has been a whirlwind of thoughts that have assailed me in the last couple of weeks, with extremities too. There is so much to learn at work, there are still optimistic and passionate people of my age out there, that fostering a child is something I hope to do, that learning to rise above trying situations can be triumphant, that I'm terribly excited about next week, that I found a new friend...

Amidst the throngs of thoughts in the bustling streets of my mind, the landmark desire that protrudes from the sea of disparate musings is the desire to be creative. My creative juice is waiting to burst forth, awaiting that critical juncture to be released with fury and passion.

Hopefully next week.

Parasites through history 8:18 am

“Empires bought stability at the price of creating a parasitic court; monotheistic religions bought social cohesion at the expense of a parasitic priestly class; nationalism bought power at the expense of a parasitic military; socialism bought equality at the price of a parasitic bureaucracy; capitalism bought efficiency at the price of parasitic financiers.” [Matt Ridley]



Uncle T

So tiring 8:31 pm

It is so hard and tiring to be good. To try keep your cool when people and situations get frustrating and pesky. When you're down on luck. To keep smiling when you feel terribly lonely. To not get frustrated when the bus takes forever to come despite being late for an appointment. To stay strong and not be tempted to go to the toilet and cry when shit happens at the office.

It is so hard and tiring to be good.

Hence I need more than my strength. I am strongest when I'm on my knees in prayer.

boxes of nostalgia 1:48 am

it began when i received an SJI newsletter. sent me reeling with nostalgia; decided to open the dusty carton box.


army photos; tan and handsome then, fat and ugly now.
old camp letters.
angel-mortal letters.
random postcards from classmates.
letters from crushes. christmas cards.
photos of ex-girlfriend.
letters from mei.
doodling of ex-girlfriend whilst she was in chemistry class.
advice from seniors written on letters.
old guitar strings.
christmas presents from sunday class kids.
senior joe.
diary entries.


things that remind you who you are. these are so important, yet i leave them buried in boxes. amidst the routine of wakeup-work-work-eat-work-work-work-eat-refuse to sleep-sleep-wakeup, i need such guideposts to remind me who i am, who i want to be; apparently i knew what i wanted to be 13 years ago. apparently.

i will keep these things close to me. i'm now itching from the dust. but also filled with an inspiring nostalgia.

inspiring nostalgia. amen.



Uncle T

thomas the obscure 1:52 am

The table went silent when Thomas spoke, more out of social courtesy than anything else. Once he was done saying his peace, which had intentions of being engaging and a conversation-starter, the polite smiles went round and after a necessary pause, the crowd at the table returned to their conversations and laughter.


The harder they laughed, the more painful it was for Thomas. He was there but not quite there; he was amongst the crowd but wasn't really with them. And the most painful thing, he knew. He knew he was only allowed to speak because they decided to be courteous. He felt like the loser he used to silently chuckle at in high school. Perhaps this was Fate's cruel reprimand for that arrogance. Thomas felt like Mr. Cellophane.


The crowd interrupted his sentences as if he never spoke, his comments were aired not heard, his exchanges never became conversations. Thomas felt like Jude. Thomas felt obscure.


All he wanted to do was get up and run into the cover of the night. He wanted to show them what a loss to the company if he did run off. I'll make them regret for ignoring me, Thomas thought. But silently the voice within reminded him that even if we walked off, hardly anyone would realise let alone care. So he sat there through the evening, through the conversations and laughter, with every passing moment Thomas' entire being only wanting to belong, if even for a few minutes. Why? Why me? What have I done to deserve this, he implored.


As darkness of night provided a slight reprieve, all Thomas could do was to turn his eyes to the Crucifix, bite his lips, fight the tears and pray. Thomas' greatest comfort amidst this darkness was being on his knees in prayer.


So the story goes of Thomas the Obscure.




"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is to love, and to be loved in return".


Uncle T

are we all so lonely? 8:11 am

Do read the story here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/8658327.stm.

My first reaction reading the article was that of a typical tabloid-reader. The ludicracy of the title first gained my attention and had a laugh, close to mocking; a laugh that said "surely, that is plain silly and that would NEVER happen to me".

But on second thoughts, the realness of this story struck me; a German man marries his dying cat. Does it reflect a loneliness that our modern trappings are increasingly encouraging or is this plain insanity? But perhaps insanity is a mere condition relative to sanity, and perhaps this guy is the only one brave enough to admit freely that in his loneliness he has found kinship with a non-traditional source.

For this German postman its his cat. For some of us, it may be computer games, it may be pornography, it may be being a workoholic; perhaps in some way, all of us are ludicrously married to something to stave off that hunger for companionship in our lives.



Uncle T

monday morning jazz 8:04 am

Its a Monday morning at 8am in a quiet office. The only thing cutting through the silence is the cleaner singing, the whirling of the central air-conditioning, my stomach crunching on breakfast, my mind trying to wake up, and Betty Carter's jazz vocals.

I don't have anything in particular to write about, but decided to write anyway; sometimes the fingers take a life of its own and comes up with something. Or perhaps that each time I decide to write, either on paper on online, it triggers the 'contemplation department' in the brain, which translates into something to write.

It has been a long 2 weeks. And I was glad for the weekend to have come, and how it has past. I am bracing myself for yet another long week, but very much emotionally recharged and restrategised. And in 2 weeks, I can smile. :D

As Ailin mentioned, it was my first birthday back home in Singapore after 3 years. Somehow, it seems closer to a decade that I last celebrated a birthday here. It was a quiet, unassuming one, and somehow I liked it that way. Perhaps I would have wanted even more quiet. I am looking to see if I can get away sometime, back to nature.

I need to head back to the trees and the green of nature, where there is room to contemplate and appreciate. Will you come with me? Let's head back to the wilderness together.


Uncle T

Greater than I 9:04 am

I just had a straining Saturday afternoon of floorball. All I wanted was to get home quickly, shower and chill. I got more than that.

The sky threatened throughout the journey home as I dragged my body along the newly-opened Circle Line of the MRT. I groaned at the thought of not having an umbrella. The dark clouds looked somehow majestic as they rolled with the pregnant wind; the trees obeyed as they swayed in fear with lightning cracking the horizon. It even looked poetic. Then as I stepped onto the feeder bus home, it started to pour.

I felt helpless. Lugging my sports gear and fatigued calves, I dreaded getting off the bus. Should I wait at the busstop till the rain subsided? Should I make a dash? Drama-mama as it may be, I actually felt helpless to the weather I had no control over. I had an overwhelming feeling that there was something greater than I.

The previous evening I attended the funeral wake of a close buddy's father. Uncle had passed away due to post-surgery complications. It was a simple procedure that was meant to come and go. And his son in Glasgow never expected him to go forever. I knOw the family, and it pained deep inside as I hugged his mother to convey my condolences. Again, I was engulfed in that same helplessness, that alot was beyond my control, out of our hands. There was something greater than I.

A farmer once said he keeps faithful to a Greater Being because each time he ploghs his fields, he shudders with fear the lack of rain, something that is way beyond his control.

Perhaps it is because my urban life is so antithetical to the farmer's that I forget sometimes that I am not the centre of the universe.

Some might disagree, but I have found others that agree; that our urban lives so enveloped by Western-individualism, avatar-creating virtual space and individual-centric technology, that it is sometimes hard not to think of oneself as the centre of the universe. Take for instance Facebook. It encourages an individualistic outlook on things; posting personal updates, sharing links, profile pictures thinking the rest of the world will be interested in our lives. Not that it is at all a bad thing, it is just very easy to step across the line of being slightly narcissistic. Perhaps this is not true for many, but I am at least certain for some this happens. Virtual reality helps us create worlds that puts us and only us at their centres.

But I am not saying farmer-life is better. I am not saying stop playing Farmville on Facebook either. Rather, at least for me, I must (and want) to resist the urge of modernity's push towards self-centeredness. Perhaps it might take a lifetime to justify this resistance, but I am certain this resistance to self-centeredness appeals to us intuitively to some extent if we think about it hard enough.

So I decided to enjoy the rain. Instead of bitching about the uncontrollable, I slung my bags snugly and stepped out into the rain. Those taking shelter at the busstop looked at me. I choose to think that it was looks of admiration, not insanity, to walk in the thunderstorm. It felt liberating to embrace the kind of storm that drenches you 'within 2 seconds' as Val puts it.

I enjoyed the stroll in the rain as umbrellas shuffled past me. My slippers attacked puddles on the ground, my bag collected water as I looked to the heavens and smiled. Mummy looked shocked to find a drenched me as she hurried me into the house.

I guess I can continue living in my self-centred world, but at the same time to appreciate the possibility that there is something, Someone, greater than I.

train wreck? 9:35 am

gemsphere says: 
u r a deep thinker
tts why i try to steer away fr ur train of thoughts


Do my thoughts wreck others? Perhaps it would be easier to survive in our world by being superficial and not 'think so much'; or perhaps just keep all the thoughts deep within myself. Perhaps the 'dumb blond' is more than just the butt of jokes; perhaps its a sustainable survival strategy in our societies.


Uncle T

Liberating 10:58 pm

It has not been the best of Sundays. Not bad, just not good, especially after that phone call this afternoon.

But that aside, there was a moment today I relished.

We attended Mass as a family at SVDP. Having Fr Paul, a visiting priest from India, did bring a smile to our faces with his sometimes-comprehensible accent. It started to rain halfway through the service, and boy was it a thunderstorm.

When service ended, I volunteered to drive the car over to the church's porch so that the family won't get wet. I hesitated to step into the pouring torrents without an umbrella. But the moment I did, it was liberating.

The initial droplets that touched my skin through my dry fabric startled me as I picked up speed whilst looking for oncoming vehicles. But the moment I settled into the wetness, it was refreshing from there. The rain just drenched me as I ran across the streets, and relishing every moment. There was a peculiar lucidity that I enjoyed.

It really was liberating, that left me grinning the moment I got into the dryness of the car. It is a grin that I wished to share.

Let's run in the rain together sometime.

credit: ©2009-2010 *fhrankee on deviantart

Uncle T

Ladies in White 12:47 am

I decided to walk instead of taking the bus. After all, it wasn't too far, but long enough to take stock on the long week. It is a Friday night.

Then I see a familiar figure. Her long hair against her white dress that cut through the growing darkness. I call out and catch the familiar smile of her eyes. Its been about half a year since we last met. I walk with her to her evening destination nearby and we quickly catch up. She has just changed jobs but still in the industry. She still has her own car.

That was the first random meeting. The first lady in white.

I carry on my way and head towards the bookstore. Borders. I wonder when it would go bankrupt, as its British counterpart has; under siege by digital media. I wanted to take refuge amongst the shelves of books, away from working life's cruel onslaught. Its a Friday night.

I walked past the 'Economics' books, the her familiar figure caught my eyes; rather, her dyed-bangs did. We were trying to grab coffee the last 3 weeks, but never did. We decided to take this coincidental chance. We go for coffee before it was time for my dinner appointment. We had a good chat; people management at work eased into the insecurities people had. We recommended each other books, and before we knew it, our chance meeting came to an end as I had to leave.

That was the second random lady in white.

We parted as I headed to the bus stop of my schooldays. Being at that busstop brought back memories of waiting there after school in uniform. Tonight, I was heading for a dinner appointment after a long week at work.

The Gratitude Attitude 8:53 pm

Some people may differ, but it is not easy to be thankful for the good stuff in our lives.

Somehow, I am my most poetic and lyrical when I'm sad. And staring down history, many poets and musicians were at their composing best when they were at their low points. So though its not an everybody-thing, its for a number of people. Sad times tend to be more poignant, more memorable. Sad times make the body and mind become acutely aware of the circumstance; I'm more aware of a painful cut than when I'm otherwise healthily normal. I rarely celebrate my health, which I proabably take for granted as given; many peers in troubled parts of the world would chide me for that.

On radio this morning, a gentleman commented on the younger generation being 'fat cats'; the good life served up on a silver platter, never having known hardship so the moment an ounce of fabric change on the couch we lay on, we complain. Many might disagree, especially my generation, but I suspect there is some truth in this analogy. At least for me, it reflects some truth; I'm so comfortable that I forget to be thankful for the good stuff which I take as given.

For me, it is not easy being thankful for the good stuff in my life.

Don't get me wrong; I do say my thanksgiving prayers weekly at Mass. In fact, i overdo it on a daily basis. Yet somehow gratitude comes not from such superficial gestures, but rather sincere gratitude should manifest through the testimony of how I live my life. And as a priest mentioned over the Easter weekend that just past, that whilst it is ever-tempting to walk into the 'tomb of self-pity' using religious imagery, we should always resist. And I do believe walking away from such a temptation is in part living out the gratitude for the life that I have.

A friend mentioned just yesterday how our generation of Singaporeans have 'no monsters to fight' and therefore don't dare, and bother, to be agents of change. When we do see faults in society, alot of us simply get behind our screens and become, in his words, 'keyboard warriors'; complain about these faults through online forums and that is as much as we do to lend a solution. What is said here is indeed a sweeping observation but is an accurate one, in my view despite the lack of numbers to prove it. How many of us step up to try be solutions to the faults we complain about? Not just at the societal level, how about at the work level? How often do we 'step up'?

The question to ask is why; why are we fast becoming a generation that complains and not act towards a solution directly? Is it relevant to ask this in the same vein as the first issue at the start of how it is not easy being thankful for the lives we have? Or am I simply conflating complex issues out of convenience?

Perhaps we will leave this debate here for now. After all, I do suspect this issue will linger for just abit before a whole generation learns to deal with these issues.

KopiTalk Digest #3 3:19 am

hey peeps,

This is the third issue of random dandom bits of information. Hope it helps
you get through the rest of the week; when free, just click on the links.
All of them are quick reads :) Enjoy!


Toyota sales: careful with how we read stats
The first link says how good the Toyota sales numbers looked in the last
month, a possible bounce back from their brakes-problem crisis. The second
link however asks us to be cautious about the numbers. Nothing very
interesting la, just a reminder how stats can be misleading if not used
with nuance. A local stats prof once said: 'statistics is like a bikini; it
covers up what is most essential'. :)
http://www.brandchannel.com/home/post/2010/04/02/Toyota-Brand-May-Be-Bouncing-Back-Already.aspx
http://www.forbes.com/2010/04/02/toyota-sales-march-business-autos-flint.html?feed=rss_home



Be a carpooling superstar with iPad in your car!
If you follow techie websites now, its been all about the iPad. And since
we're on the topic of Toyota cars, check out what a company has done to get
the iPad fitted into a Toyota car. I want myself one of these!!
Link:
http://www.engadget.com/2010/04/06/ipad-gets-fitted-into-car-dashboard-makes-you-an-instant-carpoo/



Tea Parties woohoo!
Over lunch, Pris brough up the idea of reviving tea parties! Then Firhan
mentioned about the political tea parties in the US. So for some of us who
want to know abit more about tea parties, here's the links for the tea
parties that Pris wants, and the other tea party movement taking place in
political America.
Link on how to organise a tea part (Pris' thing):
http://www.ehow.com/how_2828_throw-disco-party.html
Link on political tea party movement:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tea_Party_movement


Careful with short and sweet!
Its not uncommon for a boss to ask for a one-pager summary of a proposal;
things like 'elevator pitches'. But this article says while this is good in
forcing the proposer to be succinct and clear on the pitch, it warns that
this simplication, some essential complexities may be lost-in-summary.
Interesting and quick read :) http://blogs.hbr.org/cs/2010/04/avoid_over-simplifying_your_on.html


The Greyhound Story + PS Cafe Story
It had its humble beginnings in Bangkok selling men's casual wear in 1980.
Today, Greyhound has built itself into a lifestyle brand with a reputable
fashion name and a series of 6 restaurants that would leave many jealous
of. It is one of the examples of entrepreneurship nearer to home, and its
rather inspiring.
http://www.greyhound.co.th/
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1624541/review_greyhound_cafe_in_bangkok_thailand.html


Much closer to home is the 3 dudes behind Project Shop, and subsequently
the PS Cafe branches; I heard they are opening yet another branch in the
heritage area. One thing inspiring about this 3 is that each of them have
their own talents and use them to build their cafes from scratch, and not
hire consultants and do up their restaurants. One dude is a pastries,
another an architect and another the fashion designer.

Will we have more home-grown brands we can be proud of? Brands truly
Singapore? I'm crossing my fingers we will.

Uncle T

KopiTalk Digest #2 7:02 pm

hey guys & gals!

welcome to the second issue of KopiTalk Digest! just random dandom stuff to make your day more interesting, and hopefully more fruitful!


Are you a "supertasker"?
Here's a short article that sheds some light on multi-tasking. Only a very few of us are "supertaskers", so the suggestion is please don't try find out by using the phone and driving at the same time.
Link

Singlish Up La!
Singlish has made its mark! This time via the gaming world through Bolo Santosi. Enjoy, for those who haven't already caught this floating in the Net!
Link

Will the Dragon keep soaring?
China's growth is still a talking point in the media and pop-talk; go to any bookstore and scanning the bookstore will surely pick up the word "China". This inforgraphic however does question if the dragon will continue to rise unbridled, and points out possible roadblocks. However, do note this is written from a Western standpoint; what the West may think are roadblocks may not in reality be issues within an Asian context.
Link

Wanted: social entrepreneurs
Though short, this article provides a perspective on the global need for social entrepreneurs. This is from the perspective of a global citizen, where one is concerned about the social issues that faces the rest of our fellow citizens in the global village. This article points towards education amongst our youth as a possible solution to this issue. Though not educators per se, perhaps we have a part to play because we're not 'old'; 'old' in the im-too-old-to-do-more-than-complain-and-not-do-anything-about-it. :)
Link

Creative Mess: can Singapore tahan that?
This is an interesting take on Singapore in comparison to the other global cities of the world. I won't say I fully agree with its perspective, but perhaps there is some truth in this perspective. Will Singapore be ever be truly on the same level as the likes of New York if it doesn't allow abit of the 'creative mess' that allegedly typifies these global centres? What do you think? Does Singapore have grand enough a story to sell?
Link


Uncle T

KopiTalk Digest: Creative Quotient 2:17 pm

Found this interesting blog post by Nussbaum, who was actually in Singapore last year for the World Design Congress. It is about Creative Quotient (CQ); its not a very detailed blog entry, but a good teaser to the subject for those who are interested.

Talk about getting creative! A Kansas mayor decided he would change his town's name to Google! WTH! So read here for the article, followed by the witty response from Google's chief.

a town in kansas deciding to call itself Google. Source: CNN

in its generosity, Google decided to return the favour to the Mid-Western Kansas town. one more reason to love Google. Source: Google Blog

Finally, here's the latest creative innovation based on Google's gmail. For those with a romantic and nostalgic slant, here's one for you. Only in its concept stage, this is the Google Mail Envelopes. See if it makes you smile :)



Uncle T

i want one of these...please? 2:09 pm

I get to have a new phone in May! And naturally, its a toss up between the few big boys: BB, iPhone or an Android phone.

But being nostalgic and loyal, I miss my Palm; I used to use a Palm for close to 4 years in the earlier years; it was simple to use no frills and then it was still rather cutting edge. Sadly, Palm has fallen behind in the game as other technology players started cutting into Palm's market, leaving the old boy with lower market share, lower revenues and hence lack the pace and quality of research and innovation. Such is the free market.

But Palm has a hugely sexy phone! Do check out its review on youtube here. Alas, they have no intention to bring it to the Asia Pacific region, let alone Singapore. This is truly sad. I really wish I had one of those, more than an iPhone or an Android; well, at least for now :)

Uncle T

managing info:google timeline 12:13 pm

In the office on a public holiday (Good Friday), and somehow not seeming to mind it. The office is quiet, safe for another colleague. It is so quiet I can hear myself thinking; and that's good. Knowing that I think gives me validation, and a self-worth. Sadly, my cerebral swirls are not for some sophisticated intellectual pursuit, its just for completing a work-related paper and...random tidbits of information!

The latter is something of late I've had quite a craving. I'm turning into a geek! And the sure-sign is idling on Google's blog and blogging to an invisible audience (like right now, talking to myself via a screen + keyboard).

Here's the latest random bit of info for you. A latest google innovation of organising search results of news chronologically in graphical form. Say for instance you wanted to follow the scandal that hit the Vatican of late, and you searched for it in Google News. Now with Google Timeline, you can view the news in a chronological form. Try it! Its quite convenient!

Link: http://newstimeline.googlelabs.com/

Uncle T

turning the calendar 9:13 am

On this day in history,
Yong was born, so did Jimmy Cliff.
MJ's "Beat it" short film got TV-premiered,
And Justinianus became emperor of Byzantium (0527).
Paris and Berlin (1953) were linked by phone,
And Apple Computers was born (1976).

And on this very day,
I turned the calendar from March to
April, asking myself:
"What have I done?
What am I going to do?"

Another month further from birth,
Another closer to legacy.
Scary.

Source: Google Images

Uncle T

china to rule? 8:47 am

Old Chinese saying say a journey begins with a single step (or something like that). Indeed, China has taken yet another big step towards the direction of being a global economic bigwig.

China group Geely recently announced buying over the Swedish-icon Volvo. Dad and I were pondering how it would feel as a Swede, that for one of your national icons to now be owned by a 'Chinaman'; especially with the Western wariness of China, it makes for a pill even harder to swallow. Perhaps I won't really be able to empathise with the Swede until Singapore Airlines becomes foreign-owned.

Source: Google Images

China is currently the world's largest auto market (see Newsweek). Naturally, the impact for Volvo and the Chinese automobile market will be impacted by this buyout; Volvo will aim to turn its loss-making business around and to have a foothold in the Chinese market, and the Chinese market will now have a branded car for cheaper (how much depends on their strategy ahead). But there will also be impact on global markets, in particular the market I'll like to highlight would be the American one.

As it is, there has been huge pressures of late by the US for China to allow the allegedly undervalued Yuan to float more freely. I am certain there are domestic pressures for the Obama administration to address this as well; if not from the public (which might be too busy talking about the new Health Bill to worry about this) but surely from the disgruntled Republicans who want all the knives they can get to throw at the administration especially since the bitter-sweet passing of the Health Bill. Can you imagine what kind of pressures the Administration will then be under when the American auto market be inundated with cheaper Volvo cars? The trade deficit will just widen to epic proportions. And this Chinese thirst for global brand names, at least in the auto market (see The Independent), is definitely not quenched; this Geely-Volvo deal I suspect is the tip of the iceberg.

Source: Google Images

I know its abit of a far-off protraction, but definitely not improbable: will China rule the global economic system? If yes, what kind of hegemon will they be like? From the current looks of it, surely not a benevolent one, and that is a scary thought for a wild dragon-panda running amock in the world.


Uncle T

swings: a pretentious poem 2:03 am

sitting on swings in parks
never fail to get me thinking;
especially on a cloudy night with
some stars and some Moon
forcing their agenda against the dark mantle.

"thinking about what," she asks
from a continental distance.
"about life, love, Holy Week, about
what has died in my life and what i'll like to
resurrect this Easter," i reacted.

only silence's incessant blades could be heard.

on the very same swings
not long before, she on left and i
on right, she inducted me into her
inner circle with sharings;
tonight into the inner inner circle
with confessions, swing confessions
i was in. i was honoured. i am scared.

as st augustine beckons me
to slumber, i do wonder what
lies ahead. sometimes you reflect on your
life like a grand-slam spectator, seeing
the ball toggle back and forth,
really uncertain as to where the
ball will ultimately land.

perhaps i'll just stand at the
baseline, waiting to give my best
reaction. if its a drop-shot, i'll
run like hell to save the point.
if its a rally to baseline, i'll
give my all and hit it as if the championship depended on it;

perhaps that is my best response.


Uncle T

flashdance: an un-elegant poem 1:45 am

A precious Saturday afternoon,

4 different spirits congregated 

Just like old kindred days, yet not;

It was the first time in a decade

That they gathered this way.

Sweltering heat pushed them

Into a room too familiar from yesteryears

Yet clinically new for their current

Endeavour. Slowly, they

Began their Journey of 

Reflection, Community, Accountability; brotherhood.

Though lasting not longer than the

Hour, they parted with a gentle fire

Newly-lit with a desire to see it further

Burn.

As the crowd grew from 4 to

2, old opportunities to rekindle old

Times arose. We shared like boy-days

Of man-days; the same warmth amid the

Evening's gentle breeze. "We should do

This when we're old" came up yet again.

I smile. We smile.

For as much as we want such evenings 

Every evening, one is thankful for

Them each time they preciously come by.

These flashback opportunities are like a 

Flashdance, dancing between past and 

Present, a tension that is taut like a 

Dancer's line; elegant yet sanguine.

So here is to unabashed desire for such more

Flashdances.

one of the unforgettable scenes of the movie. no, not for its wetness or redness or hotness, but for its sheer ingenuity and innovation.

it was a very enjoyable movie, albeit one that professional critics love to hit out at. yet somehow, its many elements have topped different charts when it was released, and inspired many other movies in years to come.

Uncle T