my kopi place.

can't take my eyes of you

2011-01-13T13:49:00.000+08:00

Sometimes there are designs you just can't take your eyes off. This is one of them.

Nike-designed American football uniform of the Oregon team. Read the rationale behind the small design details and not only will you find yourself starting, you might just start drooling too.

Read article here.

Uncle T

facebook not so universal

2011-01-11T12:50:00.000+08:00

I guess in many of our daily-life worlds, facebook is ubiquitous. For some, daily moments are even facebook-defined. Ever occured to you that you encounter something on the streets and go, "I'm going to update my Facebook status on that,"?

Arguably, one might even say our days are now defined by FB & tweet moments.

But here's a NY Times article that shows facebook is not (yet) that universal as it might seem to be. The Japanese are still cautious of the openness of FB.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/10/technology/10facebook.html?ref=global-home

Uncle T

there is a time and season for everything

2010-12-02T21:49:00.001+08:00

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

2010-12-01T12:46:00.000+08:00

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...

2010-11-24T12:35:00.002+08:00

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

2010-11-19T20:32:00.002+08:00

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

2010-11-19T14:25:00.000+08:00

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.

2010-11-18T11:06:00.002+08:00

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...

2010-10-29T19:56:00.000+08:00

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.

2010-10-28T13:56:00.000+08:00

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

2010-10-27T10:22:00.000+08:00

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

2010-10-20T02:07:00.001+08:00

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.

2010-10-14T20:16:00.001+08:00

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

2010-10-05T08:55:00.001+08:00

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

2010-09-08T10:02:00.000+08:00

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

2010-08-26T19:34:00.001+08:00

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

2010-08-07T19:03:00.001+08:00

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

2010-07-14T13:56:00.001+08:00

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

2010-07-05T00:21:00.000+08:00

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

2010-07-04T23:53:00.000+08:00

"...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.

2010-06-29T12:47:00.002+08:00

"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

2010-06-28T13:49:00.001+08:00

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.

2010-06-23T22:36:00.000+08:00

"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...

2010-06-23T02:35:00.000+08:00

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

2010-06-15T20:21:00.000+08:00

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

2010-06-15T01:31:00.004+08:00

"...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

2010-06-15T01:29:00.003+08:00

"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

2010-06-15T01:27:00.002+08:00

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

2010-06-14T20:44:00.001+08:00

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

2010-06-04T08:43:00.001+08:00

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

2010-05-19T08:18:00.002+08:00

“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

2010-05-13T20:31:00.001+08:00

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

2010-05-12T01:48:00.000+08:00

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

2010-05-11T01:52:00.000+08:00

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?

2010-05-04T08:11:00.000+08:00

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

2010-05-03T08:04:00.000+08:00

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

2010-04-26T09:04:00.000+08:00

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?

2010-04-20T09:35:00.000+08:00

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

2010-04-18T22:58:00.000+08:00

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.

Uncle T

Ladies in White

2010-04-17T00:47:00.000+08:00

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

2010-04-12T20:53:00.000+08:00

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

2010-04-10T03:19:00.002+08:00

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

2010-04-05T19:02:00.001+08:00

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

2010-04-02T14:17:00.000+08:00

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?

2010-04-02T14:09:00.000+08:00

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

2010-04-02T12:13:00.000+08:00

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

2010-04-01T09:13:00.000+08:00

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?

2010-04-01T08:47:00.001+08:00

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

2010-03-29T02:03:00.000+08:00

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

2010-03-29T01:45:00.000+08:00

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

The night stage

2010-03-27T15:20:00.001+08:00

Sometimes I really believe that a gung-ho spirit and enthusiasm is enough to get through life.

I did something new two nights ago; an endeavour I've never attempted. It was adventurous and gung-ho not in a Everest-conquering way, but in a fish-out-of-water kind of way. Leading up to it, I was quietly excited. Then the evening came.

We went out to ION Orchard, a new-ish shopping mall in Singapore, to do a fashion photoshoot.

It was like going onto a stage to perform a song. And you dont realise how inadequate you are until the houselights fall and the spotlight on you. And it is only then, when the glare of the attention fills your eyes that you realise you're not ready for this. Oh crap. And then you freeze, lyrics lost in your larynx, the melody dissolving in your diaphragm. Stage fright, some call it.

That was really how I felt that evening. For many times across what ought to have been a mini adventure to relish, I felt as naked and helpless as the stage-frightened musician. It was then that it hit me that being gung-ho about stuff, especially in artistic endeavours, is not enough. 'Go in and just whack' is what I thought was enough. Sure, we did prep work prior to that; found a model, browsed magazines, pseudo moodboards, recce trip, sewed up a dress for the evening, meetings...but all that was still not enough.

Photography, in this particular case fashion photography, is not an activity you just decide to do and taa-daa. It is a craft; one that requires patient diligence in both theory and practice, one which requires patience and commitment and where competence is often proportionate to dedication.

It is not the first time the concept of craft has come to me, yet it continually comes up each time I set myself to an artistic endeavour. Perhaps it keeps coming up because the concept of a craftsman is rather juxtaposed to what one may call artists today. Not just artists of the painting sort, but all other forms of artists modernity seems to have spurned. Perhaps its also the way artists of today tend to go with the notion of glamour and celebrity-status. So it is not surprising to me if I witness an 'artist' of today pursuing his artform for the sake of celebretism and not in the name of craftsmanship.

I'm conflating my thoughts into a mesh of words. I'm sitting on the floor at Dhoby Ghaut MRT Station still in my checked office shirt, with fingernails still smelling of the office keyboard. I should end here.

But I pray my learning of the craft doesn't.

though its none of our business...

2010-03-25T18:32:00.000+08:00

Though its none of our business that the Americans are getting a new Health bill, thought it would be nice to know about it? Here's a convenient summary of the bill Obama passed.

http://waysandmeans.house.gov/Media/pdf/111/HCare/2010_SUMMARY.pdf

Well, its not exactly not our business. Passing of this bill could mean less sick Americans coming to Singapore to seek medical treatment, means fall in our tourism receipts, means less GDP, means less bonus, means less money to spend on camera equipment...

But passing of this bill could possibly, arguable nonetheless, cement Obama's presidency, and ensures that no nutty dyslexic President takes over. This is on the assumption that Obama's good at what he does. After all, he's so good that he got a Nobel Prize for doing nothing; by my standards, that's damn amazing.

Uncle T

Reflection in our daily lives

2010-03-22T20:52:00.024+08:00

What is it in our urban, modern lives that seems to discourage personal reflection and contemplation?
Or is this question a relevant one to ask? I'll assume it is for now.

He sat down at about 5 in the afternoon and removed the packet of balsamic vinegar from the plastic bowl. He rips apart the technology and pours the sour liquid into his bowl of vacuum-packed salad. He claims it is his 'afternoon snack'. He then invites us both to sit down and join him contemplate about life.

Pak contemplating at the kelong, Tanjung Pinang

I look out the 9th floor window and see that its raining.

At about this time daily, his mind steps away from work on its own and contemplates about life. It reminds me of monastic monks stepping away from the cloisters to mumble a prayer. As he absent-mindedly munches on the oxymoron of instant salad, he asks what would we do if we were told we had half an hour to live before the world ended.

His response of wanting to throw his enemies off the 9th floor is not relevant to our conversation here. But how many of us are as disciplined as he about contemplating life like he does, daily? The Jesuit monks do, and have been doing so since St Ignatius. Surely, there is some benefits from doing the daily Examen of consciousness and life. Yet if its good for us, how come the majority of us don't do it?
We shower daily, or at least I do ever since coming back to live in a tropical country. We do so to keep clean, to prevent a build up of dirt lest we become filthy. We do so instinctively. Yet when it comes to contemplation and reflection, we hardly do it weekly despite it sharing a very similar analogy to daily showers. We ignore contemplation till the woes and toils of daily urban modern life build up until it becomes unbearable.

One symptom of this unbearable build-up is when suddenly we ask ourselves questions such as 'when did my passion become merely a job?' or ,what am i doing with my life?'. Such a possible but not necessary symptoms. A friend recently exhibited such symptoms and it pains me. It pains me because it could have been prevented. And these things happen even to good, smart people.
To be fair, daily contemplation alone is not the encompassing solution. But its a good start no? Surely its a good thing no? I'm rambling.

So what do you think are the things in modern urban lives that discourages us from contemplating our lives? Tell me, tell me.

reflecting, tanjung pinang

J'adore a Paris

2010-03-22T00:43:00.000+08:00

Uncle T

Written in the stars

2010-03-15T09:47:00.001+08:00

You hear the waves lapping against the wooden stilts that hold the house in its place; kelong, a house on stilts. Buble and Diana Krall plays in the background. Darkness just engulfs you 360, save for the random houselights along the beach. Then there is the velvet carpet of sparkling stars.

Block out ambient light and you will see the dotted blanket of star-diamonds. And suddenly you realise that the stars seem like they are dancing, swaying to the jazz. They dance! Its so pretty, so beautiful.

Funny how we could stare at the stars for hours, enjoying the constant sea breeze, flirting with my hair-fringe. It was like staring at a show that came to a stand-still and nothing changes. Yet, we just watched the stars, and felt light, feeling satisfied somehow. But we also had shooting stars. Those made us smile really wide. Waiting for those patiently were surely worth it.

I wish I could unlock the mystery of these stars. How they can make me feel like I feel. Everyday should feel like watching the stars, eternally tranquil. But perhaps such magical moments should be rationed to make them, well, special.

i missed it!

2010-03-14T23:57:00.000+08:00

It seems a little silly to feel the way I do. But I do.

I missed the recent run of Giselle by the Singapore Dance Theatre over the weekend. I missed it! And I didn't even know I did till I did. I could not have made it anyhow as I was away in Indonesia, but that doesn't soften the wound.

I know its just another dance performance, but somehow it stings.

I still have yet to watch a classical ballet performance. I must soon.

Uncle T

yoursingapore.com

2010-03-06T03:33:00.003+08:00

goodbye Uniquely Singapore...hello Your Singapore! :D

do visit the funky new website www.yoursingapore.com

Uncle T

The Haunting Stain

2010-03-03T09:18:00.000+08:00

You realise the blotch on your skin,
The blemish that haunts
In your reflection.
You look harder, wondering why
Its there, hoping its your imagination.
But no. The spot is there.

You turn away and hope that
Out of sight, out of mind,
But it already burnt its
Existence into the fabric of
Consciousness, and it
Haunts.

It gently brushes against your
Consciousness, unnerving
And it just won't go away,
That spot of imperfection.
Perhaps perfection is over-hyped.

Even if I choose to look past the
Smudge, the glaring judgement of
Others persecutes like an itch
I cannot reach, one that may slowly
Turn into pain.

bombay on film: falling in love

2010-03-01T23:47:00.002+08:00

my favourite amongst the lot: outside on the street of barista coffee | bombay

Uncle T

The gift of a book

2010-02-26T15:44:00.000+08:00

I barely knew her, and it was probably the last time I might see her in a long while if not ever.

Yet what she did that evening may probably be what I might not forget in a long while.

All I knew of her: she is Korean. She reads and writes fluently in Korean, Japanese, Mandarin and English. She now lives in Singapore with her family. Her spoken English was not as fluent as her written. She was very fair, with a deep set of eyes that flowed with years of experiences. I caught myself, for brief moments, swimming in the nostalgic green of her eyes. She is over 50 years of wisdom.

We have had brief conversations at the workplace as colleagues in the last month. She learnt I studied abit of philosophy; I regretted even mentioning it because it came with it an expectation I couldn't fulfil. She was a voracious reader, and she expected the same of a philosophy, somewhat embarrassed, student. She started rattling of continental philosophers I barely knew. Gulp. I just smiled and nodded.

I looked up all the literature and philosophy books so recommended, and realised they were all classics, and I never heard of them. So I am no student of philosophy; I merely have a piece of thicker-than- usual paper which said I studied philosophy. Gulp.

Then that evening she pulled out a book from her bag and handed it to me. It was a thin book. It had a cover illustration which would not make me buy a book off a shelf if I judged a book by its cover, which I admittedly do far too often. She said I could have it. It was a Korean-published English copy of Khalil Gibran's 'The Prophet'. I was stumped, but before I could process what just happened, she went on sheepish about the fact it was a cheap copy, it had Korean annotations, it was not new...

The gesture was overwhelming, and I was sincerely touched. I realised as I grow older the bar to being 'touched' has been raised, possibly bumped up by cynicism.

When I composed myself, I asked her to write something on the inside of the book. She apologises for not writing in English and writes in Korean. She translated what she wrote: keep reading and through reading lead a better life and be a better person.

That really hit me again.

When was the last time I thought about reading as a nurturing process? When was the last time I heard of reading as romantic as this? I subscribe to over 30 RSS feeds on Google Reader; each day I have an excess 1000 online news articles to read. In the Google age of information-overload, reading has becoming more of an efficiency-quantitative excercise. I really cannot remember when I last heard of reading being alluded to being an experience as opposed to routine exercise.

I admittedly browse when I read; too little time with too much information to devour. It is snippets of information I pick up as I sieve through writings. I often curse at writers in my head when they do not write economically. And here is this Korean lady who gives me a literature book, asks me to ponder upon every sentence, re-read books and says all this will make me a better person. She then explains why she needs no religion in her life to act as cosmic-guide; all her reading has provided all that she might need from religion.

Wow. And all this said over a few pieces of paper stuck together into what is a modern joke called a paperback; at least the Googles and Amazons of our world today have made it so with e-books.

Despite all the words here to describe, this was really a brief encounter of book-presentation. But it really made me think, got my brains firing. It reawakened a sedated linguistic conscious that decidedly went to sleep and turned reading into a efficacy-deal. I miss literature, and all the nuances and textures that comes with the craft.

But I'm not about to overly-romanticise this. Yet, I'm being conscious about a discerning reader; knowing to exercise the right balance between being effective and appreciative in reading. After all, there is no point reading too much between the lines in modern writing when there is not much being put in there.

Google keeps it simple for News readers

2010-02-22T13:00:00.000+08:00

Once again, Google adds yet another consumer-centric application to its growing suite of services that makes me think really hard whether to get an Android phone versus the iPhone come May.

The Google Fast Flip is a convenient way to browse the news, understanding the current blind-corners and inefficiencies of reading news from different sources in our information-overload age of the Internet.

Read their blog for more information on this service: http://googleblog.blogspot.com/2009/09/read-news-fast-with-google-fast-flip.html.

It's yet another experiment Google Labs have taken on, and it just makes working at Google ever more desirable; the continual innovation machine that keeps the consumer at the core of its drive.

Uncle T

Inspiring Strangers

2010-02-19T12:29:00.001+08:00

Where I work now, I get strangers walking in and out of our doors. Sometimes we even have long conversations; other times we even exchange contact details. And at other times, these strangers even inspire; they make you stir on the inside.

Loving couples always catch my attention. Not the ones where they cannot stop gropping each other's anatomy like monkeys plucking fruits off a tree. Not that kind of lovin'. Its the subtlely loving couples that get to me. The ones where the man gently allows the lady to interrupt him whilst I tell them all the tourist information I can throw at them. The ones where the lady asks all the questions but the man stands silently behind her nodding with his hands gently on her waists. The ones where the old lady supports her old man as they totter towards the exit. The ones where the old lady smiles proudly even as her old man asks a mundane question; it is almost as if she is still in love with his voice since they first met.

Seeing this day in and day out brings hope; hope that each day can be more than just routine, hope that there is still love in this world. Not 'big love' that modern concoctions like Valentine's Day-flowers shibangs, but subtle, old-fashioned love; the tenderness that love inspires.

There was this particular couple that walked in. He was dark-skinned Asian, she was white. They were probably in their 50s closer to 60s. They smiled and sat down. They started asking about former military barracks in Singapore, about Tengah Airbase and Seletar Airport; they were in Singapore in the 1970s and wondered if all these places still exist. I could literally see their eyes twinkle with nostalgia and resurfacing memories. There is a certain look that people have when they reminisce, especially in the eyes. I like that look, very much actually. The look of reminiscence, the look of being human.

They are actually British, from Lincolnshire. They worked for the British airforce. The lady went on to proudly tell me that she was involved in the first-ever exercise of the women's British airforce (WRAF) in Singapore. Again, I saw the twinkle in her eye, this time with pride showing in the creases around her eyes. After our long conversation, they invited me to visit them when I went back to the UK. He gave me his email address; Govind is his last name. I am surely contemplating this should I return to the grey island this summer. Then as they were about to leave, the lady asked if we still had Merlion keychains we used to give away as souveniors. Sorry ma'am, we unfortunately have run out, I'm sorry. Then I thought what the heck, I'll give her my own shrimp-like keychain that hung from my orange bag. Its just a keychain, and since she wanted it, she could have it. I gave mine, and they were grateful and left.

But as I waved and smiled goodbye and they walked out the door, I suddenly felt a huge sense of loss and a thousand memories came crashing down on me and i skipped a breath. Obviously the Merlion keychain was more than a silly thing hanging on my bag. It was my last one after giving away others on my travels, and I knew that they were no longer in production. For a moment, just a brief one, my heart sank so far I couldn't locate it. The bittersweet memories of giving away trinkets that hung from my bag on my travels came rushing back. Of how it was painful giving away hanging trinkets that for myself held so many memories, yet there was something sweet in the pain of giving a part of yourself away to newfound strangers you befriended, some possibly never to speak to again.

I guess the very act of giving away a memory creates yet another in itself, so at least it still quels my own nostalgia appetite.

Very soon this stint at the Visitors Centre will end. Next week would be the last week in fact, and I honestly do wonder will I get opportunities to get inspired by strangers once more. Being inspired by strangers in foreign lands, after all, is one of the powerful memories from my 3 years abroad, now but a past I must put behind me.

Free-falling with a smile

2010-02-09T09:28:00.001+08:00

Expectations.

That was I guess what the night-long conversation gradually centrifuged around. Last Saturday, Poh Mui and I began our conversation at the bookstore, which ended only when she got off the taxi we shared. From chatting about a stifling social structure, to Indian travels, to workplace jokes, it also started to fall around the topic of expectations. You know a conversation is revolving around a theme when we started to crack mundane 'expectations' jokes.

Let us set the context. There is a hope of a near future that I started out hoping for. After some time, I started to consciously shut out that voice of optimism in my head; that happened when I started getting reminded of the potential agony of free-falling when you hope so high in the clouds. So I stopped hoping, or so I claimed. The expectations that come with hoping sometimes sets me up for an excrutiating smack when that hope fails to materialise. So the simple logic follows: hopes comes with expectations, expectations sets me up for pain, hence stop hoping to avoid pain.

Poh Mui disagreed. She advocates holding on to hopes but without expectations. Hopes without expectations. Is she even human? I admitted to her that I really couldn't fully comprehend such an idea. In my mind, expectations was so intrinsic to having hopes that they were never possibly mutually exclusive. Sure, I understood the theory she espounded, of having hopes but blot out the expectations that may come with it. In practice, having tried for nearly 11 years, I can't seem to do that. At best, telling yourself not to have expectations merely softens the thud of betrayal and hurt I feel when reality fails to reach my hopes.

Poh Mui kept repeating that I should hope without expectations. Perhaps if it was with anyone else on any other night I might not have been as patient. She said that repeating would get the idea into my thick head. And in a way, perhaps it did. Poh Mui's relentless insistence on the idea did penetrate my cynic-shield.

Perhaps its all about having the guts to do it. Right now, I'm standing at the edge of the airplane, parachute on, and refusing to take that final and crucial step off the plane because I was caught in the web of logic. I was trying to make sense of something that didn't. In things such as this, it really takes that leap of faith, not pedantic careful steps of logic.

The conversation that night might be that necessary push in the back to start the free-fall. I've stepped off that edge so many times before in my life, yet somehow I am reluctant this time. Perhaps this is what age does to you. I guess everyone needs that little reminder.

I guess everyone has their different philosophies of life. Some would never even put themselves in that precarious position on standing at the edge of a free-fall. But that is me; at so many times in life I've been there, and so often lept. And each time, whether I landed safely or fell with a thud, the ride was always worth it; it often made me a better boy.

Perhaps in the end, its about the courage I have to be myself, to close my eyes and step off the edge, smiling.

Aftermath of a reality-quake

2010-02-01T23:11:00.000+08:00

I was hit by a quake of reality last evening. It shook me up quite bad.

It didn't help that I arrived home from work at 3am in the morning, a heavy body with a heavy heart. So dragging myself out of bed yet again to work wasn't easy.

Yet I haven't had time to digest the emotional buffet from last night. After dragging myself out of bed today, I started work at Orchard. Lethargy first blocked out the mess in my head, then the bustle of the work place made me absent-minded about the mess: Almost.

The mess is still not sorted in both my head and heart.
But somehow I don't feel as burdened, lead-footed. Perhaps its Ella & Louis on the busride home that is serviving as the panacea.

But I know this is but a temporary solution. I have to deal with this mess directly and surely. Somehow, sometime.

Somehow, sometime.

Back to Changi for the last time...

2010-01-31T16:27:00.001+08:00

I just finished a weekend programme, Choice Weekend. I last did it end of last November. Back then, I went as participant, this time as presenter. The irony is then I was rather disgruntled participant, this time very pleased presenter.

As I ride across the shadows of trees on the expressway, I am traversing across the island from Jurong to Changi. It would be my final shift at the Changi Visitor Centre. All too quickly and suddenly, yet another mini-chapter flips by; tomorrow I start at the Orchard centre.

I have realised from the weekend retreat that I'm still getting used to being 25. Once again, I become the young boy in the adult world. Somehow, people do make first impressions on one's age.

Anyhow, time does fly by. Its already the end of the first month of the new decade; Apple finally has the iPad released. It leaves me wondering what else lies ahead in the new year.

Along Thomson Road...

2010-01-27T14:27:00.001+08:00

It felt very much like how it did 10 years ago.

After a filling lunch at Thomson Plaza, though it was affectionately called Yaohan those days, we walked along Thomson Rd. I was walking with my best friend on a lazy sunny afternoon.

But 10 years back, we both would have been in school uniforms. The Church and the post office are still there, but gone is the MacDonald's where we spent much of our youths in. The shophouses and the canal are still there but gone is my size 27 waistline. The sweet feeling of being in the most comfortable company in the whole wide world was still there, but both of us have been through much in the last 10 years. So essentially we are the same, but not.

Whilst we still reminisce about loving and gushing about the Backstreet Boys, we don't actually listen to them much anymore. The realness of the past is alluring, but one cannot ignore the lucidity of the present and future. As much as the romantic in me wants to hope all is the same, it isn't and it can never be.

I'm not saying it in a bad cynical and jaded manner, it is just the gradual realisation that we cannot build too much of the present on the past. They are but memories; the danger is when we live in them so much that the current circumstance becomes irrelevant. Rather I should focus more on building a future with what I do in the present.

A visiting Vietnam acquaintence shared with me over dinner that he threw all the keepsakes away from his ex-girlfriend. That's because, he said, that if those memories are really worth something, then he can build new ones in future and not needing physical 'things' to remind him of a past now gone.

I must admit I don't fully agree but I guess it is a nice reminder.

But whatever the case, standing waiting for the traffic light to change at that very same traffic junction with my best friend, was nice. More than nice.

I guess there are some memories after all worth holding on to.

Googledom

2010-01-24T14:22:00.000+08:00

Google is literally growing an empire. In fact, it recently flexed its muscle as it handled its international affairs with China in a recent privacy spate. But let's not go down the road of whether corporations are slowly becoming legitimate global players in a new world or not; if its moving beyond interNATIONal relations towards a global world order moving beyond nation states.

But simply check out Google's corporate HQ named Googleplex. And just like everything else at Google, every trivial detail counts. And the best part is, its not considered cheesy! In fact, because it is a tech company, it is geeky and proud to be so. And this is one of the many reasons why it is such an appealing organisation to belong to. Check out the reason why its called the Googleplex (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Googleplex).

And talk about trivial details, check out how coolly geeky these Googlenites can become:
http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&om=1&z=17&t=k&msid=103763259662194171141.00000111b083b28bf007c&msa=0

Check out a photo essay of life in Googleplex here: http://www.time.com/time/photoessays/2006/inside_google/1.html

What will it take for more companies to be like that? No, I'm not saying spending extravagent money on pool tables, swimming pools, or a T-Rex skeleton infested with flamingoes. Is it always ALL about money to become an organisation that people want to belong to, to work at?

Perhaps sometimes instead of needing to "buy" such success, it may take simple small measures to move towards such an ideal. And in our age of information technology, we are not short of literature doing just this.

I do hope someday Singapore would be home to such organisations.
Uncle T

Attraversiamo

2010-01-24T11:35:00.001+08:00

"Attraversiamo. It means "let's cross over". People say it to each other when they are walking down the street. Attraversiamo. Let's go to that side instead. She likes the word because it sounds beautiful. I like the word for it's symbolism.

Imagine walking down the 'street' with someone you love and you want to go to the other side but it's just too much to do alone.Attraversiamo. Let's cross over...together. Or better yet. You want to cross over but you just don't have it within you to say it. The person you love and who loves you says it. Attraversiamo. They say it because they know you and they want to walk to the other side with you."

Source: http://laurascontemplations.blogspot.com/2008/01/attraversiamo.html

Uncle T

what will singapore build itself on?

2010-01-20T01:06:00.000+08:00

This evening, an Indian tourist from Tamil Naidu walked into our Visitors' Centre.

After a few mundane queries about power sockets in the airport, he asked me a question that took me by surprise: in a world economy where India's software engineers alone are 5 times the population of Singapore, how will a resource-poor Singapore survive in the future? I was taken aback, and am still a little.

We had a short debate, where I found myself less and less convincing. I am now hoping I was lacking conviction only due to my lack of knowledge, and not because of the truth in his question. I will perhaps have to do a little more research into this, but my faith in Singapore's economy has definitely been shaken.

He went on to substantiate using examples from the financial sector. Why would any global bank like Citi, for instance, find talent in Singapore when it can get a selection of any kind of talent from China and India for half the price? What would make Singapore's human capital any more special than an Indian or a Chinese? A Singaporean's competitive advantage is slowly disappearing as the millions of Indians and Chinese close the gap.

Indians and Chinese are graduating by the droves from the top universities in the world; I recalled seeing countless Indian students wearing sweatshirts of Cornell and the likes of American colleges flying from Bombay airport just 2 weeks back. A Singaporean's bilingual asset is slowly being eroded as learning languages are facilitated by information technology and the Internet. The Singaporean's diligence and efficiency is no doubt still globally respected, but my question is for how long? How long more before these competitive edges we blunted by the pace of growth in India and China?

Again, I must spend more effort in looking at the possibilities that Singapore's economy may continue to grow in the future, in a global milieu that has to deal with the reality of the Goliaths of India and China. Whilst other countries may counter this Chindian rise with their own natural resources, Singapore has none to fall back on.

Is anyone interested in joining me in pondering this fearful but necessary question? Do drop me a line if this hits you as well, and see if we can be part of a solution.

Uncle T

when being different becomes the same

2010-01-18T22:59:00.001+08:00

Below is an excerpt from the speech Ho Kwon Ping gave at SMU's 10th anniversary as a university. Without realising, it indeed has been 10 years since it was the new-kid-on-the-block. Without realising, a decade has passed since I was pondering whether I should give SMU a go. Have a read of the excerpt.

I thought it was a well-written piece, especially how it articulated the founding premise of SMU, of how Singapore's education system needed an institution that would give our students added "initiative, creativity and entrepreneurship". The candour in which it was written is also refreshing, especially if you know the background of Ho Kwon Ping of being a bad-boy-turned-good. I must say I felt proud to have SMU in Singapore as Mr Ho articulated its vision, and paying tribute to Dr Tony Tan's contribution in setting that vision from the outset.

They wanted to build a university that was "different".

Over these past few years, SMU has been churning out impressive numbers; the average starting pay of their graduates float above national averages, the quality of jobs their graduates get etc. SMU's early-days marketing efforts to be different were hugely impressive to people like myself when I was deciding on a university back in the day. The jump-shots of the early marketing campaigns were effective.

Now, I find it quite amusing how being "different" has a more mocking undertone as peers and I exchange jokes about SMU friends, and how we all do our own "jump-shots" in a parody of being different; all this in good fun. My point is to perhaps ask if being different has become so "same" that being different has become so paradoxical in itself.

In the past, speaking up in class, project-based learning, getting jobs at top consultancies, doing community work beyond the classroom were possibly attributes of the "different" university student. Today, everyone is similarly "different" that there is no telling how unique each student is. You are possibly seen as inferiorly "different" if you don't chase the IB job or the Big Four-job after SMU today.

My intention is in no way to play down the great work SMU does nor discredit the very many successful SMU grads. Rather, I am just concerned that sometimes we often allow ourselves to get entrenched in a system without ever stopping to think and question the structure and the outcome of the system; we then allow the system, even if it is a system to produce "different" outcomes, to create very similar products.

Perhaps I am starting on a flawed assumption; I am assuming that in an institution that wanted to be different, it would be a system that would celebrate diversity and learn to tap on such diversity to reinforce itself as a leading institution. Does the SMU today celebrate such diversity? Probably not for me to say yes or no, but I think it is a relevant and timely question to ask on its 10th birthday.

A bigger question I'll like to ask is when will Singapore become a society that will celebrate diversity the way perhaps New York does? If anyone can tell me how I can be part of a solution, please show me the way.

Enjoy the read:
---------------------------------------------------------------------

"IN THE history of societies, defining moments occur when fundamental social conditions are ripe for change, and visionary men and women read the times, seize the moment and create change. Whether it be a political revolution or a movement in the arts or, as in our case, a new approach towards university education, defining moments are the confluence of initiative and opportunity.

As we commemorate the 10th anniversary of Singapore Management University, I'd like to look back. And in reviewing our past as a guide to the future, I'd especially like to pay tribute to one individual whose vision, unwavering commitment to quality and openness to flexibility has, more than anyone else, made SMU what it is today.

Singapore has justifiably earned its reputation as a nation that places education at the very top of its priorities - as not just a basic human right but also a strategic investment critical to our very survival in a competitive world. Because of this, our national educational system has been academically rigorous and pervasive.

But though it has been a resoundingly successful and critical factor in our economic development, by the 1990s, when Singapore started moving towards knowledge-intensive industries, it became apparent that the attributes of initiative, creativity and entrepreneurship were not exactly in abundant supply in our young people.

It was against this backdrop that I received a call in late 1997, some 13 years ago, to see Dr Tony Tan, then Deputy Prime Minister and Minister-in-Charge of Higher Education. I had been an armchair critic of what I considered to be an overly rigid educational system, so it came as a total surprise when he asked me to head up a new university.

The only thing I still recall from our conversation was the word 'different'. Dr Tan wanted a different university from our two existing universities. I had to infer that since I was one of the most unlikely candidates to start a new university, 'different' was a polite way of describing my lack of qualifications.
I literally was given a blank sheet of paper on which to start a new university. There was no White Paper produced by a blue-ribbon committee of experts. There was only Dr Tan giving me guidance in bits and pieces, not expounding in one go his grand vision, but sharing with me his views on tertiary education in Singapore, as he critiqued our changing proposals.

The various concept papers that finally led to SMU as it is today should be kept in our library archives, if we can find them. They will provide interesting reading on how any start-up goes through very different permutations before a final business model is adopted.

I hope that our early pioneering faculty will also give to the library their various photos of SMU as it evolved. For example, SMU's pioneering faculty and management were housed in small cubicles on the ground floor of Banyan Tree's offices. The first batch of undergraduates occupied a temporary structure - now torn down - in the car park of the Bukit Timah campus. We then occupied Bukit Timah campus for a few years until the beautiful city campus was completed.

Dr Tony Tan encouraged us to be different. He encouraged the idea that SMU be a public-funded but autonomous university, governed not like a statutory board but more like an institution of public character. That is now the model for the other universities.

When we decided to be audacious and to award our own degrees from the outset rather than seek a joint degree with the Wharton School, Dr Tan supported us. When we wanted to have social science and law schools rather than just business, he encouraged us.

Dr Tan's guidance has enabled us to grow rapidly in a short span of time and do many things differently - from university governance to staff recruitment to the way we admit students holistically.
Some observers have said that SMU has redefined the university landscape in Singapore in the last decade. We have been dubbed a 'change agent' and a catalyst for innovation.

SMU was founded upon the vision of developing a new generation of leaders: bold, articulate, resourceful and independent thinkers. Through a highly interactive pedagogy and broad-based curriculum, SMU's approach has produced the type of graduates the Singapore of the future will need.
It is almost inevitable that an institution like ours will be subjected to the conventional quantifiable indicators of success, such as how many job offers our fresh graduates receive, how much they earn, and what the university's ranking is, according to various publications.

Such quantitative measures may perhaps provide an objective assessment of our performance, but they provide far too narrow definitions for success. We should be asking ourselves: Are we transforming the lives of our students through the education and opportunities we provide? Have we instilled in our students a sense of social responsibility, recognising that business success and social improvement are complementary? Are we advancing knowledge through our research and leaving a meaningful footprint within the community?

As we look ahead, we need to remember that just as a life well-lived cannot be measured by conventional indicators of success, so too should it be for a university. We must not become a conventional institution cast in a new mould. We must remember who we exist for, who we serve and what we stand for.

Just as I had told our 10th batch of freshmen at the start of the new academic year last August, a decade may seem like a long time when it spans nearly half a lifetime of our undergraduates. But it is just a blip in the history of a university, even in a country that is as young as Singapore.
We have just started on a long journey where our conduct along the way will be as important as the destination itself. As the poet T.S. Eliot wrote: ' Fare forward, voyagers.'"

Uncle T

sharing quiet moments

2010-01-18T21:42:00.000+08:00

It felt almost unreal sitting there.

There was hardly any earshot chatter, just Monteiro's CD on repeat mode; even good jazz is an overkill when you listen to it on repeat-mode for 9 hours. I sat there, Killiney dinner in front of me and today's newspapers.

I cannot recall how long back since I last had such a quiet moment to read the newspapers. Somehow, this moment reminds me of quiet mornings at the Warwick Arts Centre. I miss those moments, moments I don't think anyone else might understand. Is there a need for others to understand to justify this nostalgia? Oh well.

Nevertheless it was nice to immerse myself in the newstories, hearing only the chatter of electrodes racing through my cranium matter as I try to make logical links in a rusty cerebial mess. I think I literally heard myself think; turning on a rusty machine which has been unused for sometime is often a noisy affair.

I think I need abit of countryside once in awhile. Despite needing to tap on the buzz of the city, I need the magnificance of nature to tame my excitable spirit. Or more than that, I perhaps need a lady to do just that. I possibly met one such personality in India recently.

Ironic as it may be, I prefer to share quiet moments with the right person than have it alone. Quiet moments alone can sometimes be lonely; shared solitude can be uplifting. I recall sharing quiet moments with her in Kala Ghoda and the road to Goa.

Anyhow, such moments don't last forever. I would be worried if they did; poignancy of such moments would totally disintegrate if they each lasted forever. And so I slowly finish up my already-cold kopi, tuck the newspapers under my arm, adjust my thick specs and slowly lumber back to my night shift at the airport.

No wonder they call me Uncle; the sentimentality and mannerisms just say it all.

random sharing

2010-01-18T21:04:00.001+08:00

"The day you learn to surrender yourself totally to God, you will discover a new world, just as I am experiencing.
You will enjoy a peace and a calm unknown, surpassing even the happiest days of your life.

- Blessed Jaime Hilario (1898-1937) Priest, Martyr

Uncle T

what she had to say...

2010-01-18T00:29:00.002+08:00

And another blogger had her comments about our exhibition: http://www.whitericeculture.com/?p=2893

Uncle T

my|4-walls: this is what he had to say...

2010-01-17T21:59:00.001+08:00

And so the launch weekend of the exhibition is over. After months of work and anticipation, it came and went. But the exhibition continues till 21 Feb, and so does the thrill of finding out the impact of the show. Who will it inspire? Will the photographs sell? Will this show spark debate that will help the art scene here? Perhaps only time will tell.

Yesterday, a certain personality visited the gallery. Tan Ngiap Heng. He is one of Singapore's foremost fine art photographers. Naturally, I didn't know that when he walked through our doors and in characteristic fashion, I made a fool of myself. Check out his work: http://pondimages.blogspot.com/2010/01/genee-2009.html. I then admitted to being a photography noob, and a noob art curator as well.

But I am so proud of the artists I've worked with on this show. Humble craftsmen, engaging personalities, every single one of them. And what better tribute, and hopefully more to come, to the intent of the show then the review that Ngiap Heng himself gave of the exhibition. I can only pray that this is but the start of an adventure worth embarking. And my heartfelt thanks to the many people who have made this possible.

Thank you.

This is what he had to say:

This is a nice and fresh exhibition in a new exhibition space. Apparently this is an exhibition of six photographers who are showing their work for their first time. It includes award winning photographers Elaine Lim and John Heng. The other photographers are Fusheng, Genevieve Ding, Nicholas Foo and Wong King Leong.

I met the curator, Nicholas Foo, who is new to photography but very enthusiastic. He calls himself a noob and has his work on the wall too as the owners of the gallery asked him to put up his work. He tried shooting dinner for the photographers who were gallery sitting, Fusheng and King Leong. I passed him a paper napkin to soften his flash. Amusing yeah?

Anyway, I enjoyed it because the images were fresh and unpretentious. I hope to see more work from these photographers, including the noob curator!

Source: http://pondmusings.blogspot.com/

Uncle T

On the move...

2010-01-12T19:48:00.000+08:00

Its a few days before the exhibition launch. What has been a whirlwind experience from fertilisation to now its imminent birth, I am afraid. In the last 3.5 months, this exhibition has been a huge source of both challenge and inspiration.

I think I need such projects to keep me moving; these endeavours.

I reach my train stop and get off as I squeeze my way past the evening crowd plugged into their safe worlds of iPods and PSPs. I am off to the gallery space to finalise some layouts and I suspect it would be a usually long night. Sometimes I do wonder what makes the people around me tick.

I do wonder what makes me tick.

hit the ground running

2010-01-11T00:40:00.000+08:00

Just a few days back, I returned from the royal mess of Bombay to the stoic order of Singapore; from Creative Mess to Covenience.

And I literally hit the ground running.

To be continued...

Uncle T

Taxi rides + travel

2009-12-28T09:17:00.001+08:00

It still feels the same.

Despite the different colour in the taxi, the different make if the taxi, the different accent of the taxi-driver, the different route, the different weather, it still feels the same.

The same routine of not sleeping through the night, the same dread of last-minute packing, the same mechanical packing instinct, the same juxtaposition of dread and excitement, the same fatigue. The night before travelling to a faraway place is still the same.

Travelling the way I did in university was something I only started doing in the UK. Travelling alone is surely a recent thing. So I am thankful that whilst I'm back in Singapore, this comforting familiarity remains.

I am off to India. Having gotten used to it, I am once more waiting for my flight at the airport alone. Somehow, after the bustle of routine and crowds, I treasure such times. There is something about airports that help make this solitude as enigmatic as I make it sound.

Oh well, fighting the all-nighter fatigue. I'll end here. I'm excited, yet tinged with trepidation. Such is life's uncertainties. And I love it.

nothing else matters...

2009-12-26T23:44:00.001+08:00

but the smile of a child.

Uncle T

things that make you smile so quietly it doesn't matter if the world noticed you did.

2009-12-26T23:40:00.002+08:00

Uncle T

Uncle Kopi

2009-12-26T08:27:00.003+08:00

It suddenly dawned upon me despite it being so obvious. It is for such reasons and more its not worth committing suicide; each day has the possibility of a new revelation despite its obscure probability the day before.

On being Uncle
I call myself Uncle T. This blog is my kopi place. Friends get annoyed at me for talking about things too serious at TCC/Thai Express/Coffee Club dinners. I talk too much and I talk with too much convicted opinion.

Then today I realised why or where these come from. I find myself typing this blogpost over with 3 middle-aged Singaporean men having an extended conversation about how Hainan Island chicken rice is different from our local Hainanese Chicken rice. Now they are lamenting how the younger generation today are 'softies' who want to 'lie in their bed but not build it', wanting long-term benefits with short-term efforts. They lament with conviction saying its part of life to bear hardship before enjoying life. Not that I totally disagree with them, but I argue with them for the sake of us 'younger generation'.

Makan with uncle, become uncle
It is these kopi sessions that I have been having with these men for over a decade. I think my opinions and debates about the whole gamut of issues in life from the hawker centre tables. I wish my intellectual seeds were planted in more romantic places like debates with philosophers at Cafe de Flore in Paris. But my intellectual reality begins at Ang Mo Kio hawker tables. In this last decade, I've had breakfast with these men from them in their managerial days to now them being retired. Surely, breakfast sessions with my dad and his friends all these years have had a huge part to play in me being an Uncle today.

On being a young man
Uncle Tony puts his hands on my shoulder, gives it a firm goodbye squeeze and says, 'Young man, when you decide what to do (in life), let me know'. For a young man, that is a tall order.

Andrew said...

2009-12-24T13:07:00.001+08:00

Andrew said, 'I woke up and didn't realise it was Christmas Eve. You expect snow,and it isn't there. You expect a quiet breakfast with a loved one and its all in the mind. I rushed off to work.

Somehow, this Christmas eve seems lonely. You look around and see loved ones but do wonder where has all the Christmas love has gone hiding.

Let's hope it gets better.'

That got me thinking.

Epiphanies amidst the mad rush

2009-12-23T19:19:00.001+08:00

I have been rushing around so much these last few days, so much so that my trusty electronic calendar was not even utilised for its 'to-do' function. There has been so many things to do with such tight turn-arounds its more efficient remembering them rather than recording them.

Hardly any sleep, checking emails on the move, whispering quick prayers on the go, nonesense lunches. Gone is the luxury of overplanning which I enjoyed in some parts of the past 5 months. Now its no longer strategic planning, but more fire-fighting, operational deadlines.

Yet, ,when just when I'm about to bitch about nursing a 3.5 hour nap in 24 hours, I realise I'm loving this, or at least parts of it. I nearly always give thanks to be alive to experience all this adrenaline. I learn more about myself, meet new people, understans fresh insights. Change truly being in full gear.

A friend gently reminded me of staying stuck in comfort zones and familiar roles. I have to have the guts to continually re-assess and discern; life in constant change needs constant renewals and rethinks. One change so hard to swallow is perhaps accepting that some old friends have moved on and old friendships to be replaced by new ones. Now that is a scary thought just before Christmas. This reality threatens to create cracks on the romanticism of my ideal friendships.

Oh boy. O come Emmanuel...

Oh what a night...

2009-12-18T08:08:00.001+08:00

I cannot even remember when was the last time I did it. I was too tired to decide if it were a good thing or bad. Whatever the case, it happened.

Sitting on my bed in the dark of past-midnight. I looked up, they were still there from 7 years ago; the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. I was on the mobile phone...

This morning I awake with just 3.5 hours of sleep. I now sit awaiting my turn to see the doctor. It is my final day at my 1st rotation. Its drizzling. One week to Christmas

Am I making sense? Oh what a night...

poem: this is an artist

2009-12-17T09:15:00.003+08:00

As she digests the black scribblings

On the score, the faint sounds of

Melody echo in her head. Then, the years

Of training magically transforms the dead ink-blots into

Harmonies through her smurfish fingers, bringing

Alive the music along with its dead composers.

To celebrate the splendour of the music-scapes that

Escaped her body, she turns to writing verses

To try record the intensity of capturing the

Soul of the composition.

In so doing, she brings the art from ink back to

Ink.

This is an artist.

Uncle T

bright spots in a sea of grey

2009-12-17T09:15:00.000+08:00

A city of grey
It would be unfair to call Singapore a jaded society. But I do not think it inaccurate to say Singapore is not the most hopeful and optimistic of societies; a society which embraces hope and all that jazz. Yet, whichever society it is, it is neither good nor bad. But I much prefer, and hope, for us to be a hopeful and optimistic society. But I will leave the academic and logical justifications for such comments for another time.

A hopeful and optimistic society is a society that might dare to dream, in good times and in bad. The society as a whole dares to dream up big visions and dares to work towards it, and the individuals within that society each dare to dream big and work towards it. If so, then perhaps we are indeed not the most 'dreamy' of societies.

Even before I carry on, I am sure a statement like that would illicit disagreement. But I am just going to say this: I truly believe it is possible to dream till your heads are in the clouds but with your feet firmly on the ground at the same time.

Ever since embarking on an art project of two after coming home, I get that sense of a society that tends to shun away from dreaming; it probably is deemed too impractical, too lofty, too 'airy-fairy'. Probably a society that wants to keep it real and safe, especially given the gloom of current the financial situation. What I am afraid to admit is that this financial austerity during this financial meltdown is not just a temporary translation to this lack of willingness to dream, but this strong inclination towards "practicality" is a permanent trait of ours. In my view, a society permanently choosing practical concerns and not daring to dream is a city of grey. Not black, just grey; not any of the extremes of white or black, just in between, just grey.

Bright spots: Inspired persons
However at the same time, these art projects has allowed me to meet inspired people; people who not only dare to dream but people who act on their dreams. These are the bright spots in a sea of grey. Perhaps this lot might have had it going for them to be allowed to dream; they don't have to worry about their next meal or a roof over their head, hence they have the time to dream. But this is not an accusation of those who don't dream, this is about the celebration of those who choose to act on their dreams even if they didn't have to. Walking the path to your dreams is often the path less traveled by most societies. Thus, walking the path to your dreams tends to be the more difficult path; all the more then do I appreciate these bright spots around me.

It is on days when it gets trying to push on that these inspired persons serve as spots of inspiration too. Last evening, I just met one such bright spot for dinner. An accomplished musician who wants to keep learning, and admits there is so much more to learn out there; a sign of a great musician to be. The way I see it, the difference between the good and the great is that the good think they have already arrived and the great will always be humbled by what they do not know and want to keep learning.

I have gone on for more than I wanted to. Well, these days it is only through writing that I get that catharsis I require in my life right now, so let me ramble abit la. :)

this was the most recent concert that the "bright spot from last night" played at. it was more than just a show; it was a performance.

Uncle T

of voids and Gregorian chants

2009-12-16T08:41:00.001+08:00

"...As the darkness edged past midnight, he sits there not wanting to close his eyes and rest for the night; there is too much to do yet there is too much emptiness. So he looks to tradition in his hour of need; he turns to the Gregorian chants of the Benedictine monks to fill the voids of loneliness. The ancient Latin just seems to ease the numbing pain. For now.

the ancient statues of the Cathedral in Milan watch on silently; either in indifference or in reverence.

Uncle T

my|4-walls: more than just a photo exhibition. join us jan 15 2010

2009-12-15T15:21:00.001+08:00

Uncle T

toffeenutnomics

2009-12-13T23:25:00.004+08:00

toffee nuts in london + barcelona

It was about a year back when I first drank my first Starbucks toffee nut latte alone. I was in London. Winter was creeping in and it was getting cold. I found my way to a Starbucks near Holborn as I waited for Ian to come by for dinner. Upon a friend’s recommendation, I had my first toffee nut. Its warmth was really comforting in the London cold.

Half a year after that, I drank another Starbucks toffee nut, this time a frappucino; it was summertime in Barcelona. This time, I had the company of the very friend who first recommended me the drink. I do recall that it was a nice frap with a nice conversation to go along with it.

a toffee nut that makes you smile in the summer of barcelona

525, 600-ish minutes later: toffee nut in singapore

Half a year after that, and about a year after my first toffee nut, I am drinking yet another toffee nut frap. This time, I am strawing it in alone in Singapore. Aside from the amazement at the reality of the globalisation-reach, it’s a rather poignant juncture to take a breather and take stock a year after my first toffee nut.

What better way to mark our lifetimes by way of a globalised coffee drink; the toffee-nut measure.

So let’s see how far I’ve walked (or flown in a highly mobile world):

Then, was struggling in school. Now, graduated with a good degree.

Then, was a student. Now, working man.

Then, had cool red specs. Now, cooler blue and yellow specs.

Then, fat. Now, less fat.

Then, was about to endure the most challenging year of my life. Now, lived through it battle-scared.

Then, uncertain about the future. Now, still uncertain.

You see, the list will go on. And it always will, whenever we do suck retrospections. Some things change, some things don’t. Change is the only constant, the old cliché goes, and its true. But what would be cool, and wisely so, is when it comes to times of reflection about the past, it should be also about the future.

then, now, later

Standing at now and looking to the past, things will surely to have changed. But the more challenging bit is standing at now and looking to the future, and seeing what changes you hope to see and become. Some changes are be beyond us; the world ending in 2012 is sadly beyond us, so says the divination lot of the movie ticket. However, there is possibly that 20% of our future that lies within the control of the choices we make today. It is those choices I make today that will make me tomorrow that is crucial to look at as I sip the remnants of my toffee nut at Thomson Road.

Sadly, that friend who introduced me to the joy of toffee nut is far away. Perhaps I may even venture to say we’re not far apart just physically but on other levels too. I wonder how she is. But however she is, I know that even if the shit hits the fan, I know she will find comfort in her toffee nut.

After all, some things just never change.

Uncle T

photo: "simple joys"

2009-12-06T21:58:00.002+08:00

"simple joys" | barcelona

Can we ever return to that with which
We started with?
That innocence, that guts to
Act in faith, to let fly,
Not not care about consequences and thus
Live life a little more full?

Are has cynicism encrusted into our skin,
The only one we now know?
Is there no more room for whimsicals, for
Puppy loves?
What has this world done to us?

I want to fiercely defend the child in me,
The child the Father made in His image,
And not be so obsessed being the
Adult that the world has forced me to be.

You may join me.
But if you intend to wear your trenchcoat of
Purposeless cynicism, then my house
May not be for you.
Yet, the doors are always open, the welcome mat out.

Uncle T

Reminiscing over a cuppa

2009-12-06T10:20:00.002+08:00

Another post I wrote after starting work. It is incomplete, yet still worthy for what it is. Perhaps I will complete it someday, perhaps in a way totally different from the way it was intended. But that is the way sometimes things are; ever-changing, never still. Always, therefore, I've got to always prepare for change, even in the things that I thought were meant to last forever.

Funny how a mere morning cuppa can trigger so many memories.

This morning, it is Starbucks at Fusionopolis, Singapore. Yet, just standing here adding raw brown sugar to my espresso sends shots of memories flying back to me. Waking in Brooklyn, morning lectures in Warwick, makan in Corsica, breakfast at Ang Moh Kio...Morning kopi is a trigger, a portal, my hope.

Perhaps it is the caffeine. No. It is just the kopi experience. The clarity of mind that comes with this experience is so sharp it is amazing each time. As clear as the Corscian moon in Easter.

Bus

2009-12-06T10:19:00.001+08:00

This was a post written nearly 4 months back, when I first came home from the UK. Then, I was adjusting back to life in Singapore. Now, I am still adjusting. Now I am even wondering if its naive to think people I left behing 3 years back are still the same.

I am on the bus home. Same number, but new bus. The seats are now some untearable synthetic red thing. The bus passes through a familiar route, one literally that captures much of my teenhood. The bus pulls into the stop where the ex-girlfiriend lives.

One observation, other than the one that you now have to wear seatbelts at the back of the bus. I do wonder how young couples make out at the back of buses these days. The observation: nearly everyone on the bus is engaged with an electronic device, including me, in trying to type this. The boy next to me is figuring out some love triangle over the phone.

The lights on the bus are so bright I feel naked. Just a few years back, dim buslights were conducive for falling asleep, creating alluring orange hues that guarantee you miss your stop.

I wonder where this ride will take me. Hopefully to a place where there is good company, love, jazz, coffee, a pen and a paper...

Matthew 6:25

2009-12-04T07:46:00.001+08:00

"For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? "Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to to his life?

Uncle T

Statistics on Social Media

2009-12-03T08:28:00.002+08:00

photo courtesy of http://theamazingworldofpsychiatry.wordpress.com

Social Media

These statistics are from the blog socialnomics.net, inspired by the book of the same title. Do hope that whenever you can catch some time, grab a glimpse of these numbers that show the massive impact social media has on our lives, and only looking to be greater down the road.

Statistics

1. By 2010 Gen Y will outnumber Baby Boomers….96% of them have joined a social network

2. Social Media has overtaken porn as the #1 activity on the Web

3. 1 out of 8 couples married in the U.S. last year met via social media

4. Years to Reach 50 millions Users: Radio (38 Years), TV (13 Years), Internet (4 Years), iPod (3 Years)…Facebook added 100 million users in less than 9 months…iPhone applications hit 1 billion in 9 months.

5. If Facebook were a country it would be the world’s 4th largest between the United States and Indonesia (note that Facebook is now creeping up – recently announced 300 million users)

6. Yet, some sources say China’s QZone is larger with over 300 million using their services (Facebook’s ban in China plays into this)

7. comScore indicates that Russia has the most engage social media audience with visitors spending 6.6 hours and viewing 1,307 pages per visitor per month – Vkontakte.ru is the #1 social network

8. 2009 US Department of Education study revealed that on average, online students out performed those receiving face-to-face instruction

9. 1 in 6 higher education students are enrolled in online curriculum

10. % of companies using LinkedIn as a primary tool to find employees….80%

11. The fastest growing segment on Facebook is 55-65 year-old females

12. Ashton Kutcher and Ellen Degeneres (combined) have more Twitter followers than the population of Ireland, Norway, or Panama. Note I have adjusted the language here after someone pointed out the way it is phrased in the video was difficult to determine if it was combined.

13. 80% of Twitter usage is outside of Twitter…people update anywhere, anytime…imagine what that means for bad customer experiences?

14. Generation Y and Z consider e-mail passé…In 2009 Boston College stopped distributing e-mail addresses to incoming freshmen

15. What happens in Vegas stays on YouTube, Flickr, Twitter, Facebook…

16. The #2 largest search engine in the world is YouTube

17. Wikipedia has over 13 million articles…some studies show it’s more accurate than Encyclopedia Britannica…78% of these articles are non-English

18. There are over 200,000,000 Blogs

19. 54% = Number of bloggers who post content or tweet daily

20. Because of the speed in which social media enables communication, word of mouth now becomes world of mouth

21. If you were paid a $1 for every time an article was posted on Wikipedia you would earn $156.23 per hour

22. Facebook USERS translated the site from English to Spanish via a Wiki in less than 4 weeks and cost Facebook $0

23. 25% of search results for the World’s Top 20 largest brands are links to user-generated content

24. 34% of bloggers post opinions about products & brands

25. People care more about how their social graph ranks products and services than how Google ranks them

26. 78% of consumers trust peer recommendations

27. Only 14% trust advertisements

28. Only 18% of traditional TV campaigns generate a positive ROI

29. 90% of people that can TiVo ads do

30. Hulu has grown from 63 million total streams in April 2008 to 373 million in April 2009

31. 25% of Americans in the past month said they watched a short video…on their phone

32. According to Jeff Bezos 35% of book sales on Amazon are for the Kindle when available

33. 24 of the 25 largest newspapers are experiencing record declines in circulation because we no longer search for the news, the news finds us.

34. In the near future we will no longer search for products and services they will find us via social media

35. More than 1.5 million pieces of content (web links, news stories, blog posts, notes, photos, etc.) are shared on Facebook…daily.

36. Successful companies in social media act more like Dale Carnegie and less like David Ogilvy Listening first, selling second

37. Successful companies in social media act more like party planners, aggregators, and content providers than traditional advertiser

Uncle T

photos: forgotten beauties around us

2009-12-03T00:05:00.002+08:00

All these photographs were taken at a quiet little garden in Jurong West, Singapore. I don't suppose anyone would think something so small could hide somethings so beautiful.

There is so much around us to see, if only we look around and be open to finding something beautiful out there.

Uncle T

shots of a london i miss

2009-12-02T00:59:00.003+08:00

capiscums@borough market | london

death by confectionary | borough market, london

upon london bridge | london

kitchen @ wright's brothers oyster bar | london

dinner@ wright's brothers | london

Uncle T

Gone for the weekend

2009-11-27T19:29:00.001+08:00

Not too many weekends ago, I left the regularity of an urban weekend and went for a retreat, tucked away in a secluded corner of Hougang.

Not too many weekends later, I am yet again off to a retreat, this time in ulu-ated Jurong West. And given I am standing in a crowded train typing this, the getaway from the urban rush is terribly inviting.

This retreat is called the 'Choice Weekend'. It is supposedly about making choices in our lives especially with regards to the relationships in our lives. As always, these retreats always seem daunting at the start. They often pose tough questions that require taking out old crumpled clothing from the closet that require some ironing. They often end off begging a call to action in our lives. All in all, the advent of such retreats scares the shit out of me. Yet, I still am ever eager.

I guess its much like taking rollar coasters; always getting cold feet just before yet thirsting for the exhilaration and thrill, and end up not regretting going after coming out at the end.

As much as one may argue that self-reflection can be done anyway anytime, my humanness much prefers a dedicated and conducive environment to do just that. Therefore, such retreats are loooking to be regular features in my working life ahead.

Why not come along for the next retreat? You are always more than welcome.

The journey from the head to the heart is one of the longest journeys in life. But remember you,re not alone ya.

Vocab time: Cornucopia

2009-11-26T00:51:00.001+08:00

–noun

1.	Classical Mythology. a horn containing food, drink, etc., in endless supply, said to have been a horn of the goat Amalthaea.

2.	a representation of this horn, used as a symbol of abundance.

3.	an abundant, overflowing supply.

4.	a horn-shaped or conical receptacle or ornament.

Origin:
1585–95;(see cornu ) + cōpiae of plenty (gen. s. of cōpia); see copious

Uncle T

All he can do is kneel and pray...

2009-11-20T02:05:00.002+08:00

With just a dismissive few words, Susan ended their lives. He just cannot believe it, how cold she was in the delivery; Susan did not flinch one bit. He didn't know to be angry or just plain shattered; Susan just didn't care anymore. Not to mention them, Susan didn't care about him anymore. All he was was an existence that hung on the wall; if it were straight or crooked, horizontal or vertical, Susan seemed oblivious to the state of his existence. She just knew he was there, nothing more. From being Susan's pride, he now just became an existence; he became merely a number to call only for help.

He wants to scream, but the 4-walls of morality and decency discourages him and the ignorance of the rest of the world drowns out his cries. All he can do is kneel and pray, hoping that someone way up there would hear his sobs.

He fights back the tears, fights back the loneliness, fights back the cynicism laced with anger. He wants to fight for the future; a future of love and hope.

Amen.

Uncle T

Just one day

2009-11-19T17:53:00.001+08:00

'If you had one day, just one, to know a stranger, what will you do?

Have a darn good conversation over darn-good coffee and jazz. And pray we'll meet again.'

A cold tropical night

2009-11-18T00:40:00.001+08:00

The tiny little angel in her arms, the young mother strolls in the night singing to the little one. A comforting sight on this cool evening. Somehow, its abit too cold for a tropical night; too cold.

Uncle T