What a mess.
My frame of mind is reflected acutely by the dismal state of my room, my closet, my work desk and generally any space that I have access to. Everything is in stormy disarray as I sieve frantically through the sky-high stacks of stuff and more stuff. Where on earth did all this come from, I wonder in fearful bewilderment as I stand in the eye of the furor, attempting to hold on to any last shreds of sanity and dignity. As it is, my body clock is majorly out of whack, I've not had an ounce of energy to exercise, I'm irritable, I'm tensed, and the dreaded to-do list keeps bloating up.
Somebody, anybody, please wake me up from the horror!
The silver lining, though, is that the end is already in plain view. With the anniversary weekend just 11 short days away, however, the things that require attention are also clamoring incessantly to be seen and heard. There are still so many details to take care of and each one comes with its own set of clauses, demands and the occasional humbling slap in the face.
What, exactly, have I been doing the past 6 months to have allowed affairs to bottleneck so dangerously at this crucial juncture? Well, in my flimsy defense, I can only say, with great remorse, that I've not handled this project well and I'm completely to blame for not seeking assistance and counsel earlier.
Thank God, then, for the highly-capable team that has been assembled over the past several weeks. They have banded together to see this through and have done a marvelous job in ensuring that things are moving crisply along now in order that we make it to the finish line on time. What would I do without them?
I will say that I've learnt (the hard way) a valuable lesson from the ignorant months of flying solo. While the view, sense of accomplishment and ego-boost can be phenomenal, I've realized with no one to bail me out if bad weather hits, I’m going down in a flaming ball of lonely screams anyway.
When all this is over, I have a lot of people to thank. And a very messy room to organize!
I stumbled across this touching video and after watching it through tear-brimmed eyes, I knew I had to share it.
Dick and Rick Hoyt are a father and son team of marathon competitors. To date, they have competed in almost 1000 events together. This is all the more staggering when you realize that Rick can't walk or talk.
In 1962, as Rick was born, the umbilical cord cut off the oxygen to his brain and caused severe damage. Doctors predicted he would be in a vegetative state the rest of his life. Rick's parents, however, decided to raise Rick in a normal and loving environment, eventually developing a computer system that could help Rick to communicate by tapping letters to form sentances.
In 1975, Rick asked his father if he could participate in a local 5-mile benefit for someone who had been paralysed in an accident. Dick Hoyt agreed to push Rick in his wheelchair for the event. From then on, their world changed and Team Hoyt was born. Eventually, their inspirational appearances became a moving symbol of inclusion for society's outcasts as well as a father's steadfast and unfailing love.
"The message of Team Hoyt is that everybody should be included in everyday life" Rick Hoyt
For more infomation on Team Hoyt, check out their offical site here.
Fresh from the high of birthday wishes and wanton piggery, a horrible thing had to happen to zap that fuzzy vibe.
I realized the battery charger for my camera wouldn't work properly. The unit would charge for all of 5 seconds before the charge light would go abruptly off. I tried using it at different power outlets around the house and office but the result was always the same.
Hmmm, I mused, it's not even been a year and this is already giving me trouble. Sigh, guess it's time to give the friendly folk at the service center a buzz.
Service Center Gal (SCG): Hello?
Me: Good morning, is this the KM service center?
SCG: Yes.
Me: I'd like make an inquiry. How do I go about repairing or replacing a faulty battery charger?
SCG: Well, the charger can't be repaired. I'll transfer you to the spare parts center.
Me: Oh, er, ok, thank you.
*ear-bleeing being-transferred-music starts up*
'Spare parts center' sounds like they deal with pig innards and such, I thought while glaring at my useless charger.
SCG 2: Hello?
Me: Oh yes, good morning, is this the spare parts center? (rolling my eyes)
SCG 2: Yes.
Me: I have a faulty battery charger that I need to either repair or replace. Can you help me?
SCG 2: Oh, the charger can't be repaired. You'll have to replace it. What is the model number?
Me: It's BC-400 for the KM 5D.
SCG 2: Hold on, let me check, ok?
Me: Sure.
I continue staring daggers at the charger sitting undeservedly on my desk.
SCG 2: Hello? Well, the charger has been discontinued. It's a really old model.
Me: What? The 5D was released just last year!
SCG 2: I'm sorry, but we don't carry stocks of it anymore.
Me: Then what I am supposed to do with my camera? Throw it away?
SCG 2: Er, please hold on a moment, I'll check with the engineers.
Ok, so I admit I sounded quite sharp here and instantly regretted my tone as soon as I blurted it out, but I was just caught by surprise by her ridiculous answer. I mean, seriously, the camera is less than a year old and I'm never to use it again because there's no way to charge the battery? You'd be appalled, too, right?
SCG 2: Ok, you'll have to bring your charger down to the service center. Just ask for Sylvia or Donna. They know about your case. We will place an order for the charger for you.
Me: I see, ok, thank you very much for your help.
I got the rest of the details from her. What worried me was that Sylvia and/or Donna were going to know me as the freaky-guy-who-overreacted. Maybe they wanted me to come down in person so they could take pictures of me for the company's annual D&D where they'll showcase mean customers for a good laugh. For the sake of my camera I suppose I could live with that bad rep. The good news, though, was that the center, which had previously been located in a galaxy far, far away in Commonwealth, had been relocated to the more convenient Wisma Atria in town. 
So I guess it wasn't all bad afterall, but I'm crossing my fingers that this will be all I need to blog about it...
My special day of being isn't till tomorrow, but already the celebrations have been in high gear.
I usually don't like to make a big fuss out of birthdays (especially my own) but it was nice to be appreciated, especially by the members of the music ministry and my CEF group, all of whom I have great fondness for. After yesterday's church service, I sat in my CEF class punctually but only one other person was there with me. I truly harbored no suspicions as I innocently believed the entire class happened to be busy and absent from church at the same time. That just shows how cluelessly himbotic I can be at times (ok, most of the time) and how this episode proves beyond a doubt I'm really not the ruthlessly evil despot that my friends make me out to be.
Since this is my birthday post everyone should just stifle their chokes and nod in agreement.
Anyway, the class 'absentees' and other friends poured unexpectedly into the room with a cake and enough finger food to feed a small country. They sang a birthday song with original lyrics written specially for the occasion. It was such a nice surprise that left me feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. My only regret was that I forgot to take pictures of the magnificent spread that had been lovingly prepared. What the heck is that 2mp phone camera for?
*smacks myself on forehead*
My new birthday resolution is therefore to understand the mind-bogglingly difficult concept that a phone camera can be used when the big camera is not close by.
What I do have, though, are pictures from the staff lunch last Thursday since the big camera was fortuitously by my side. We were at Zambuca, a classy Italian restaurant at the Pan Pacific. It was a fancy treat for all the birthday boys which included Leonard and Jason. All three of us had to make a little speech after the luncheon about deep philosophical issues pertaining to life and the such (needless to say, marriage was a hot topic). I suppose we had to earn that meal somehow, haha. I didn't mind, though, since the food, ambience and company was so stellar.
Anyhoo, pictures of the lunch are presented below for your mouth-watering pleasure. 
It all began with a creamy clam chowder that was...[Wait, you exclaim, but you're allergic to shellfish!] Well, yes, dear astute readers, I am but it looked so delicious I didn't have the heart to pass it up. I am paying for it now, though, so maybe it wasn't such a great idea in hindsight. Just ignore my frantic scratching and let's move along, shall we? The salad that was served after had a variety of leafy greens, baby potatoes and a strip of crispy bacon. It was tossed in a fairly typical cream-based dressing but it had what I thought were fennel seeds which added a fragrant bite to it.
I chose the grilled dory as my main and it was beautifully presented when it arrived on the table. The slab of fish looked grilled to perfection. It perched atop of vegetables and a bed of fluffy cous-cous while the tomato-based sauce just oozed down one end artfully. I'm a big fan of fish and cous-cous so I savored every bite of that combination. Dessert turned out to be a light marshmallow-textured cake/puff concoction with boysenberry compote. It was different but unfortunately somewhat flat. So that turned out to be a little disappointing.
Just when I thought it was over, the birthday cake arrived. It was the best chocolate mousse cake I'd ever tasted and more than made up for the so-so caliber dessert on the set lunch. Usually mousse cakes are hard to appreciate becase they are so runny and soft. It's tough to get the texture right so it qualifies as a cake. This decadent delight was firm but crumbly, and, oh, so sinfully rich. It's one of those rare things which really taste exactly as it looks - fantabulous.
So, yay, it's been really nice to enjoy the food and company. It's helped to boost my mood a little since I've been bordering on the blues because of the upcoming church anniversary prep. I won't ruin the positive vibe on this post with gruesome details about hair loss, eye bags and developing a permanantly sour disposition (but for those of you who absolutely live for tragedy, perhaps after the event?).
To one and all who have helped to make the moment leading up to turning 35 a little less horrifying, thank you.
This little dead leaf caught my eye one evening as it struggled against the wind, a stark contrast within the green blades of the grass it was trapped in. As I extricated it carefully from its prison, I marveled at how the intricate network of veins had hardened and remained almost entirely intact even though its life had long been over.
With the careful manipulation of light and shadow, this seemingly worthless carcass of a leaf is now able to elevate its status into the lofty realm of *fine art. The unexpected beauty of its skeletal form comes to life as we admire its delicately brittle disposition and simple, yet complex structure. With a camera's eye, this once-obscure little leaf has been bestowed the gift of immortality.
*fine art (faux) in my world of delusion does not equate with the fine art (bona fide) found in the regular world normal folk reside in.
The seashore used to be my respite; a welcome hideaway from the maddening cycle of life.
I remember biking to the beach early in the morning before school in order to catch the sunrise. Arriving while it was still dark, I'd relish in the changing hues of the chilly surroundings as the sleepy sun slowly rose over the horizon, infusing the world with color and light of growing intensity as I deeply inhaled the salty sea air.
I remember there were innumerable treasures to be discovered as the tide receded. In its wake, a soft and damp surface tracked my bare feet as I trod carefully, hunched over slightly, seeking shells and unusually-colored stones for my collection. The sun would glitter off the water and blind me, even as it beat gloriously on my tanned back.
I remember laughter could be heard; there were gladsome faces and joined hands of families, couples and friends. Schedules, deadlines and to-do lists had no place here. Everything slowed down to keep time with nature's pulse at the seashore.
I remember going for late night jogs and would end up there again. Sitting on a weathered wooden bench I would face the blackness of the night and close my eyes to hear the rush of foamy waves on the sand, the whispering hush of rustling foliage and listen to what my heart could finally say to me in this moment of quiet solitude.
It was paradise. Well, to me it was.
These days, after becoming a responsible and contributing member of respectable society, that paradise has somewhat been forgotten. Why do we lose the best parts of who we are when we grow up? Was it swept away by the waves of adulthood, or did it simply perish naturally?
What is the secret to holding on to the simple delight childhood imagination afforded us all? Perhaps it is to never have the burden of life placed upon our shoulders? But the deed is done, isn't it? So we just have to make the best of it day by day, hour by hour and to gratefully cherish the little moments of paradise that we remember to create.
I guess that's all we can do.
Tucked away in Portsdown Road, surrounded by wide open fields and towering trees, Colbar is a bohemian dive with a long history. In 2003, the laid-back restaurant had been the center of a much ballyhooed and forceful drive to save it when it lounged smack in the middle of a proposed highway.
Today, Colbar, short for Colonial Bar, has been lovingly relocated within the same area. Taken apart and carefully rebuilt in the new spot, it retains much of its original rustic and casual charm.
Despite the pulsing energy of the AYE just minutes away, there is much to enjoy within the peaceful surroundings.
I caught sight of this baby lizard sunning itself on a discarded deck chair that was propped up in a flower bed. The unusual and vibrant blooms attracted the attention of a flitting butterfly. A sandy patch beneath the stoic trees, framed by gnarled and undulating roots, was the unofficial playground for kids (or kid-wannabes) where an old tyre creaked gently in the grip of a hefty rope. A broken pathway from the main road meanders towards the restaurant entrance. I let the cleansing breese run through me; I felt mellow and relaxed.
It was like being transported to a whole different country altogether. 
Colbar serves mostly homely British fare, although they have local favs on the menu as well. Their curry chicken is well-known among regular customers. I had the tomato soup (seen above), followed by a simple fried egg sandwich. The pork chop was apparantly quite good, too. This is more comfort food rather than gourmet and I enjoyed the whole experience there tremendously.
Nostalgic and laid-back, this eatery represents a dying facet of our fast-changing country. Try to visit before it truly disappears forever.
Colbar is located at 9A Whitchurch Road, Wessex Estate.
Tel: 6779 4859
Open Tues to Sun, 11am to 8:30pm
I was chatting with a friend last night about his work which requires him to travel extensively. One thing led to another and before long the conversation wandered towards his dependance upon technology, particularly his beloved Blackberry device. And, no, that does not refer to a fruit-producing machine, but a nifty little gadget that gets all your emails routed to you on the go.
So anyway, the friend was relating an adventure about how he left this little technological marvel at home recently because of a duh moment. When he realized his soul wasn't in his pocket, he was already at the airport. After several heart-stopping moments contemplating going away on that working trip without his trusted companion, he decided he could not and would not heartlessly betray little Blackberry friend. So he raced home, retrieved it and cabbed back to the airport with mere minutes to spare.
There is a certain strange comfort resting in the knowledge that the people you know are nearly instantly accessible via technology. From email to do-it-all cellphones to internet chat programs, it is next to impossible to be totally 'all by myself', as Celine Dion belts so wretchedly. Nosey aliens astutely observing our little globe of blue and green would be forgiven for thinking loneliness has been effectively relagated 'extinct' status (I wish the same could be said for cheap waxy chocolates but I'll save that thought for another day).
Cellphone maker giant Nokia's slogan is 'Connecting People'. I think that's a pretty clever statement because it attributes to the company's technological savvy the one element that circuit boards and micro chips cannot replicate: humanity.
But can humanity be transmitted over a vast network of cables, servers and computer programs at the input of a button? Is there a difference between an SMS and a face to face greeting? Will the ever-growing library of cute emoticons in chat programs one day feel just like a real smile? Does it matter to us that we are connected to one another more by a contact list, than by ideals, values, blood, or love? But most of all, will we erode our ability to geniunely relate to one another in person when the prefered methods of communication are through keyboards or keypads?
Despite the admission to how impersonal much of our daily interaction could potentially become, I still have to confess, though, that I have great fondness for what technology unabatedly rolls out. The geek in me loves hanging out at IT superstores, tech forums and reading up about the latest sleeker and smarter innovation. It's superficial, I admit, but I just can't logically explain my penchant for shiny gadgetry and new computer applications to play with. I guess you could call it my Achilles' heel. 
Having said that, this would then be a good time as any to announce that in the course of browsing through the aforementioned forums, I was able to recently acquire a Creative Zen Vision:M, music and video player extraodinaire. It was a used unit, of course, and expertly parlayed out of countless desperate hands into my possession at a very good price which I shall not reveal online to avoid jealously frenzied backlashes of any form.
Alright, in the sobering and just-1-minute-ago light of tech-bashing, I know this latest twist will appear akin to a swift punch in the face for those of you who value coherence in your literature, but I must ultimately confess (yet again) that I'm a tech geek. However, I do believe that my new-found love for this award-winning toy with the dangerous curves is also grounded in the reality that it's just an object of modern science; and nothing more.
Which conveniently (and finally!) brings me to my closing point in today's extra lengthy post: technology can aid us if we know precisely what it can be used for, and thereby not grant it any more power than it should naturally possess. In other words, technology is merely a tool. And like all tools, learn to use it in the way it should be used, or something might get broken.
Hmmmm... methinks it would be very good indeed for myself to remember my own words.
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