Removing my security blanket 8:21 pm

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

I think its slightly worrying.

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

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

hope past midnight 1:31 am

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

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

"but when will you know when to stop?"



Uncle T

uncertainty past midnight 1:29 am

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

"i don't wanna let you go."


Uncle T

ramblings past midnight 1:27 am

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



Uncle T

Pint on a weekday 8:44 pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hopefully next week 8:43 am

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

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

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

Hopefully next week.

Parasites through history 8:18 am

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



Uncle T

So tiring 8:31 pm

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

It is so hard and tiring to be good.

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

boxes of nostalgia 1:48 am

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


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


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

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

inspiring nostalgia. amen.



Uncle T

thomas the obscure 1:52 am

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


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


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


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


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


So the story goes of Thomas the Obscure.




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


Uncle T

are we all so lonely? 8:11 am

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

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

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

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



Uncle T

monday morning jazz 8:04 am

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

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

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

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

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


Uncle T

Greater than I 9:04 am

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

train wreck? 9:35 am

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


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


Uncle T

Liberating 10:58 pm

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's run in the rain together sometime.

credit: ©2009-2010 *fhrankee on deviantart

Uncle T