Truths of Old

so re-minisce is working on christmas eve. and christmas day.
festive cheer comes in many different flavours.
anyhow, a very merry christmas to one and all.

i've been having a running battle with someone on xiaxue's blog.
xiaxue did her usual predictable, boring, egocentric-mememe thing about why she doesn't have to give up her seat to ANYONE on trains.

(quote : Oh yeah, you have a stupid baby with you. Well, guess what? No one on the MRT asked you to give birth to it. If you think it will be a burden to you while you take the MRT, don't give birth. And if it was an accident, you can jolly well leave the baby at home.)

Naturally a large proportion of her readers loved it (which speaks volumes about the readers she is attracting methinks).
She then concludes with this little gem :
"So am I still a bimbo? Or do I just have big boobs? (what boobs? lol)"
Well, since you asked, I think it is hard to grow out of being a bimbo, and from the available evidence, you certainly don't have big boobs.

There, I'm glad I got that off my chest.

the comments she earned from her sycophantic readers (what IS it about sycophants and Singapore? Aside from both being asse... I mean both starting with esses) were even more underwhelming, eg :

"my god i hate such women. fucked up to the max!!! i hate giving up my seat, i hate kids whu run abt in the train when u're trying to sleep, i hate mothers whu dun give a flying fuck when their kids are makin a hell lotta noise. do us a favor, use ur brazen-ness to shut their traps up.
passerby"

anyhow, my comment, which ran as follows :

"i guess the one thing you've showed us all, xiaxue, is that we're a long, long way from becoming a gracious society. most of your readers can't see further than the boundaries of themselves. they perceive the world from their unique standpoints, and no further. they none of them owe anybody a seat, and everyone else should stand because they are too tired, too weary, too indifferent.
and to compound matters, the potential objects of their affection, pregnant women, or tired mothers are too often just as selfish and self-centred, both of which are at odds with graciousness. its difficult to put on someone else's shoes and walk around in them (Atticus Finch, to kill a mockingbird). its harder still when you've grown up being taught that that's a bad, undesirable thing.
re-minisce."

earned this response :

"DUn you hate it when some ppl act hero and start saying things like our society needs to be more gracious, to those ppl I got only one thing to say, screw you. That being said, wondering why I said that? Well simple, who the heck are you (or anyone for that matter) to tel;l off the whole society that they shld be gracious.
My mama always tells me, look at yourself before condemming others, maybe that is why I condem others so easily :P
NaiveGuy"

to which I replied :

"yeah naive. nice one, good on you.
and no, I'm not saying society needs to be more gracious. I'm saying we're not a gracious society. I'm not so much condemning people as speaking in quiet resignation.
xiaxue, you already know the ansewr to your unphrased challenge.
giving up a seat isn't about risk/benefit analyses. there is no swollen ankle vs swollen tummy debate.
it's about coming from the heart. giving up a seat because society demands it is not graciousness, it's herd mentality. if you understand not the motivations for your actions, then your actions are cheapened and meaningless. I would rather singaporeans continue to hog their seats than give it up because the government imposes fines on people who don't, or something.
Few of you will understand what I am trying to say, and many will just become defensive because you will persist in misconstruing what I write. Many of you will tar me as a goody-two-shoes sanctimoniously dispensing feel-good advice about how we should polish our little haloes every day. have it your way. It doesn't mean a great deal to me.
But give it a moment's thought. what would it be like to be in that other person's shoes?
the woman who slagged xiaxue off didn't do it - how would she have felt if the roles had been reversed and xiaxue had snidely pointed out how young people nowadays... etc.
But how would you feel, with your perpetual backache from carrying that extra load around, standing in amongst a trainload of people oblivious to your presence, and indifferent to your discomfort, blithely avoiding your gaze for fear of being compelled to give their seats up to someone other than themselves, and hence by definition less worthy.
and how would you feel being told that it's your fault, you shouldn't have got pregnant in the first place?
answer is most of you won't give it a moment's thought. you'll just read those questions as accusations, and say screw you, preacher boy.
which is fine by me. if you can't understand the message, then it isn't for you."

Can you see it coming?

"BTW, you think your comments in this lil corner of cyberspace will mean jack shit to the rest of singapore? I doubt so, so now the question would be, a) wad are you trying to say, b) wad are you trying to prove?

I dun give squat if I was on a train with no seat. Singapore is not that big that standing means hell, even if your less abled body, also no one knows if your ledd abled body like its tatooed on your forehead, no anyone gives a damn. Thats Sillypore for you, so give it a rest.
NaiveGuy"

Somedays, I contemplate my red passport, and have to wonder : Quitter, or Stayer?

Oh yeah. The ice melted. Bummer.

This has to be one of the funniest things i've ever seen.

I think I can safely say that LOTR whipped the matrix with one hand tied behind its back. Is it me, or have we, in this shiny, superficial techno-age forgotten the art of story-telling? JR Tolkein did it all in words; technowizardry turned it all into awe-inspiring, full-motion pictures. But at the heart of every winner is a rock-solid storyline. The Wawhosit brother's got everything right except that last.

I'm still toying with that idea for a blog-review site, having just recently recovered from a weekend spent pursuing utter rest and relaxation with the grimmest of intents.

Oh and here's a personal experience I had on Singapore Airlines recently, which just goes to show that there are black sheep, and pedigree chums in every organisation.

On my trip back home, thanks to gremlins in the machine my seatback Krisworld entertainment system showed everything in black and white. Naturally, I pointed this out in the hopes that it could be repaired. A steward politely told me he would restart the system for me; twenty minutes later when I tried again everything was still film-noir. So I tentatively raised my hand again. Another twenty minutes passed with little change. Film orange would actually have been an improvement - I settled for watching the latest spy-kids in black and white (well, why not. one of the few movies colour wouldn't really improve)
After that, I hunkered down and caught a few films in good-old greyscale, without complaint, because I'm not really the kind of guy who minds, and thanks to krisworld the rewind and pause buttons are always good for moments when too much grey gets in the way (hey that rhymes...)
Eventually, however my tv went on the blink entirely. I was a little sleepy by then and more in the mood for some interactive shuteye, but I noticed my charming two companions for the flight, a sister-act from England had the same problem - their TVs were down. So I buzzed for attention, and the male steward arrived yet again - this time, however, he started by loudly saying,

"I ALREADY told you, SIR, that..."

I figured, well, flights are testy business anyway and he's probably been bugged half-to-death already by irritably inebriated passengers, so I cut him off and explained that my two lady friends were not Kris-ened and unentertained.
Another promise to restart the system, which unsurprisingly, didn't work. I snuck a glance out the window to make sure the turbines were still attached...
A good three hours passed, and I'm ashamed to say, I began to wonder what had happened to SQ of legend. No offers for recompense, despite claims to stellar customer service. Not quite their usual selves - not that I minded, I just couldn't help noticing that perhaps the best airline in the world had let itself go a bit, after the SARs crisis. And then along comes a steward to save the day, bearing a US $75 gift-voucher from the flight supervisor apologising for my inconvenience suffered during my flight. My two lady friends received the same, but graciously told the steward that I should receive more because I had suffered for much longer than they. The steward politely ignored them. Quality staff SQ hires, no?
Anyway, after making some enquiries from him I was informed that I could use my voucher for mail-order deliveries, so I paid cash for some Davidoff cologne (which I would otherwise have bought on voucher) and used the voucher to buy a... mail-order minibar fridge. (don't ask).
Shortly before leaving the plane post touchdown, I thought it prudent to ask the flight supervisor if that would be okay, since, well the ordinary air-crew had been less than helpful.
(In fact, a stewardess cooly "mocked" my purchase of the davidoff's cool water, with "waaaaaaaaaah. DAviDOFFs siah. What IS this Har? in passing to another stewardess, right there in front of me. Apparently hair colour alters customer support on SIA.)
The supervisor was shocked that his steward had misinformed me, and told me that my purchase was nullified. After a long, embarrassed silence during which he offered to do... nothing (I guess he was caught offguard) I suggested I cancel my mail order purchase, and retain the voucher for my next flight. That's when the cogwheels started turning, and helpful flight supervisor turned into champion white knight. Not only did he agree, he offered to call up the mail order department for me, and attempt to wrangle a deal, since I'd suffered so many inconviences on one flight. I figured that it was a nice thought, and thanked him for his effort, and left it at that.
Imagine my surprise when he telephoned my mobile two days later and told me he'd actually managed to swing a deal for me - fantasy transmuted into reality. This chap actually took the time and effort to go above and beyond his call of duty, in quest of customer satisfaction - and well, pulled strings for me. Not because I'm important, or because I deserve it -- he didn't know me at all. And I'm certainly not female and/or attractive either. He simply did.
Stellar. Give that man a tiger. Better yet, give him a Stella.
I did try to write in to the ST to thank him personally but, unsurprisingly, it wasn't published. So here it is in full, on my blog. Amongst the chaff, the cream rose to the top. The saving grace aboard SQ 319 was a remarkably concientious flight supervisor.
Now, persuading the aircrew on the return journey that this deal had actually been swung for me... that is a different story which doesn't bear recalling.
But I won't forget that bloke in a hurry, and I sincerely hope he gets his payrise and promotion soon.

A singaporean recently wrote online that The Return of the King is very good, but its a pity they chose the hobbits as leads, they should have chosen taller, less ugly characters.
Whoever that was, was to my mind, completely missing the point. It's almost like the upcoming "Troy" movie - doesn't fit the world today? Then why bother retelling the story, just create a new story. You can't replace the hobbits, stupid. You'll be rewriting Tolkien, not rewriting LOTR. And more importantly, LOTR is about hope and courage, at the darkest hour, the bleakest of moments. I suspect he chose the smallest and weakest characters as the carriers of hope, for a reason. Hope and courage belong to everyone, not just the tall and beautiful people; LOTR was a refreshing change from the usual hollywood tall and beautiful = good, tall and deformed = bad, short = background scenary routine. Even tall and beautiful people can be craven and cowardly.
I think LOTR, the movie comunicates the lessons that Tolkein sougt to teach us in his trilogy extremely well. That might does not always equal right (humans making last stand when badly outnumbered), and sometimes fighting well, and remaining true and courageous to the end is more right than being "rational" in the face of hopelessness (insane king setting funeral pyre for son and himself).
That we are all weak, and corruptible at heart - frodo, the ring, and gollum.
And also that it's not how big you are, but how you use it that counts.

Sincerest apologies to dablindmouse.
It wasn't blindmouse who withdrew from the flying chair awards... it was www.amongstotherthings.com
again, sincerest apologies to blindmouse, and hey, thanks for stopping by my humble, orange blog :)

The Good, the Bad and the Aesthetically challenged

I've been giving the Flying Chair Conundrum some thought, and I think I've gotten a handle on it now. After a short email exchange with Phil Ingram, founder of The Flying Chair (which is basically a blog, just like mine, and presumably, yours) I've come to realise the Why of Why He Did It in the first place.
Phil had good intentions. He wanted to bring publicity to asian blogs, which he felt weren't popular enough. In order to generate this publicity, he set out entirely on his own to create the Asia Weblog Awards 2003 (which from here on I shall refer to as The Flying Chair Awards since it sounds spiffier and more Emmy-esque). Looking through his site, I can see that he's put a helluva lot of effort into it. There are pieces of code there that I, as a layperson, will never be able to *cough* decode, much less understand. There are pull-down menus. There are security systems tighter than the Queen's Ars... err Royal Bedchamber. Hmm. Better make that safer than the Crown Jewels. We All Remember the crazed nutcase who scaled the palace walls and ended up on the Queen's bed asking her for a fag, don't we? A likely story, indeed. Who was smoking who's fag, I wonder?
Phil did it all consummately, except for one thing. He didn't reckon on there being different types of Asians with different cultures. And different cultures promote different values and ethics, and attach different significances to publicity. Almost daily I read him bemoaning the sheer extent of cheating that's going on, the number of votes he's had to cut from idiotic repeat-clickers.
Phil's good intentions, and the sheer effort he put in have also resulted in him becoming defensive. I pointed out to him that there is evidence of damage being done - people for instance, like dablindmouse who asked for their nominations be withdrawn because of the pressures they felt from an invisible audience, to perform. To rack up votes from the faceless public, and win that number one spot. That ordinary people are turning into narcissists pimping for votes, and that previously readable, ordinary everyday journals are turning into spiffy eye-catchers designed to woo an audience. To put it in a nutshell, it's the problem with Schrodinger's Cat (one of the parables upon which Quantum Physics is claimed to be founded).
Phil didn't agree; in fact, he didn't reply to my subsequent emails. He refuses to see that any damage has been done, and he thinks that everyone who's taking the competition seriously is a lamer. Xiaxue, to his mind is Doing it Right and taking it as a laugh (although, strangely to my eye she's one of the few who's really taking the whole thing Seriously, and in typical Singaporean fashion, preening in the limelight and pulling out all the stops to get votes - including slagging blogs like Metastasis off for having ?unintelligible names!) That's where it all falls down - Singaporeans are compulsive narcissists desperate for attention, and as ethical as... as... Tony Blair (HA!) when it comes to winning. And who doesn't know all about our thirst for number-one spot, bred into us all by a meritocratic government? (number one airport, number one ministers, regional hub, world hub... you name it, we're best at it.)
I don't think Phil did anything wrong, to begin with at least. He fell into the cultural-difference trap which even a South East Asian could have done, easily. Phil sees himself as embracing of oriental / asian culture (it's obvious from reading his blog that he sees himself as a man of the world - or at least the asian part of it) and to a large extent, he is. The lamers who flamed him as a Nazi for starting his awards were way off the mark. But Embracing is a different kettle of fish from Understanding. And even I don't understand many of the other cultures around me in South East Asia - or in England, for that matter. Phil wrote in response to an irate Mainlander flaming him for making fun of the prostitution scandal in China that he could "more than Empathise" with him - but the truth is he can't. I can't. I'm Chinese, but the closest my family came to the Mainland experience was my grandfather being beaten nearly to death, for being an "English Collaborator" during World War II - clearly evidenced by his perpetration of the heinous crime of being an English Teacher in a public school. None of my relatives died, and none of them were raped. I can try to empathise - but I simply can't "more than" empathise.
And Phil, as much as he would like to imagine he can - can't even Begin to empathise with South East Asians - because we're such a diverse, and confused lot.
Phil can go on defending his awards. Tomorrow, after all this has blown over it will become but a memory, till next year when he reopens them (if he does). Xiaxue will win her little trophy, and flaunt it shamelessly I have no doubt. She writes like a teenager with a head-injury. Quirkily In Your Face, and blatently self-centeredly. She has no qualms about making personal attacks on Named individuals, and she slags pretty much anyone else who disagrees with her off. She deserves her number one spot, in this little mock Blog-Idol that Phil has created, simply for the level of melodrama to which she's carrying the whole thing. It does have it's entertainment value, I'll give you that. Nevermind the countless thousands of un-named blogs that had that touch of class, that were that much funnier, that much more interesting. That much more sincere.
But I'd like to fix all that - and I have a Plan. (Yeah, capital P)
Who am I to even dream of trying to right this "wrong"? I'm a nobody.
I'm as much a nobody, as Phil Ingram is. I just write in my little blog-thingie... and I don't even do it right - I write a journal. But I write - and I Can write. I don't have Phil's HTML skills. I can't make fancy menus, and I don't think I'll be able to do this alone. So I'm asking for the help of a few good men. I have full knowledge that this project falls apart right here - because there aren't many Good Men / Women around anymore, who'll want to stick their necks out like this.

But this is what I propose :
Asian Blog publicity? I'll give you publicity. All of you...

Not the Flying Chair Awards
No numbers. No ranks. No prizes.
No fanfare. No audience ratings, and therefore no cheating.
Just a team of three or more impartial reviewers, writing about the blogs they've read. What's good about them. And what's bad. Why we liked them AND why we hated them. Who might like to read them, who wouldn't - much the way Gamespy reviews computer games, or www.TAMEC.com reviews computer-game maps or the way the Home of the Underdogs reviews abandonware.
And a "reviewers recommendation level" at the end of it : readable / recommended / highly recommended" Something to that extent.
No winners. No losers.
Just reviews - tonnes of them. And when the Few Good Men that started the project pass, a few more to step up and take hold of the baton. To continue in their wake. And so on, ad infinitum.
Blogs may be nominated for reviews, in much the same way they are nominated for voting on the current Flying Chair. Perhaps even nominated for second or third opinions.
And all the blogs will occupy a single, scrolling page with a synopsis of their recommendations (perhaps just the recommendation level) accompanying them, offering viewers a chance to delve deeper and read the full reviews.
It's a big project. And I'm probably insane to even envision this taking off - but it could mean something. Something that The Flying Chair failed to get a grasp of. Something that might last for posterity.
I'll email a few of you for help. Anyone who wants to join up, drop me a line on drgoat2002@yahoo.com - If any of you have HTML skills, that'd be great.

re-minisce.

There's a lake outside the hospital I work in. It frames the entryway to the hospital, and is chocka with ducks, geese, seagulls and a weird turkey-looking thing which occasionally floats, but spends most of its time impersonating a rather garishly coloured log. It's, I confess, the reason I applied to, and the reason I accepted this job. Sitting by the lake gives me a sense of quiet tranquility, which, believe me an A&E casualty officer Needs. And since I don't have a laptop to empty my mind with, the next best thing is a whole multi-cubic gallon lake filled with cute fluffy white birds. (although sometimes I wonder about the comparative merits of a large swimming pool filled with long, tanned birds. yknow.)
Most of the lake froze over last night. It was kinda surreal taking a warm, (probably because of my overcoat and scarf) sunlit stroll on a winter's day (a product of insomnia and an unfortunately-timed mis-call on my mobile) in to the hospital to see the ducks forlornly paddling in a tiny four-by-four waterhole in the ice, and the seagulls skidding around on what would make a nice skating rink. The geese wouldn't even Go there, and preferred to sit on the banks making disparaging noises at the ducks.
For one of the few times in my life, I'll admit that words simply can't do it all justice, and I wish I had a camera with me here in Essex. (When was the last time camera-phobic me said that, I wonder?)
Hopefully the ice will stay till I return on monday.

After several exchanges with the owner of the Flying Chair website, I've discovered that my blog isn't really a blog. It's actually a journal.
"A person who keeps a diary or journal online is logging their life, not the web, no matter how they get their words out. So the next time someone uses "blog" as a synonym for "web diary," do both bloggers and diarists a favor and straighten them out."
Well, Phil. Do you remember that funny little movie with wossname in it. you know, and that Scarlet woman. yeah?
Blog, log. The only reason I went with blogger, at the end of the day, was because I caught it off vaya.... err nono that's not true at all. vaya's clean and so am I. I had a website once. I had to re-edit every page and re-upload them whenever I posted a new entry. Blogger's quick and dirty, and I liked the interface.
I may not write about the web, and this may not be, to the purist, a blog. I still, Gods know why, write though. And I guess that's all there is to it.

Re-minisce has discovered : peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (much to his shame). Watching the Only Other Oriental Doctor in his department scarf some Goober(YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT GOOBER IS??!)-esque sandwiches last night, he clandestinely created a lightly carbonised-and probably slightly-carcinogenic bramblejellyandASDAcrunchypeanutbutter copy. It was Good.
So were the next three.

He dreamed about Her again last night. It was an odd dream, and very different to the usual sitting-down-talking over a table dream.
A... setting. where exactly? unknown. a common room, for alumni, that doesn't exist. red/yellow-hued walls, reminiscent of Twin Peaks (when it still existed). people playing carrom. A head-sized cube mounted on a black pole from the ceiling, with whiteboard faces serving as a public bulletin board. And on one face, in Her writing, "I'll be back from 10/04 to 11/04, (signed, Her), 03/04".
He looked at his watch.
Dream ends.

the flying chair awards are all the buzz at the moment.

I can't help but groan when I read Singapore's lead contender of the moment, xiaxue.

It's a sad day when an ah-lian draws the most votes. Because it's really all about supply, and demand. It's not so much a poor reflection of her - she can't help being an ah-lian after all, and she is remarkably eloquent (pause) well sort-of eloquent, and kinda funny (in a rather crass and thoughtless way) in her own odd little way.

But that there's such a huge demand for her is what saddens me. Is that all we're reduced to as a community? It's like reality TV, really. Everyone reads it with open-mouthed, slack jawed amusement, just waiting to see how much lower she can possibly sink to. We laugh, but in a slightly embarrassed way. It is reality TV. Not good TV, just reality TV.

And I have to laugh when I read what she thinks constitutes a good blog - in a single breath, she sweeps everyone else's blogs aside with a flourish - too intellectual, too grammatical. too much about other people, not egocentric enough.
and then she pimps (yes, quite literally!) her site for votes on flyingchair. because, she justifies, a good web log is all about how much attention you garner. Nevermind her D in her language for the web exam -- that she gets readership shows her that The Markers were wrong.

Wrong-o.
The best blogs are the blogs that are special to the people who write them. The best blogs are written for the writers, and not the readers. The funniest blogs are written by funny people, who simply are. Not by people who try to be funny to make their readers laugh, and their ratings soar. The best blogs have a subtle scent of sincerity about them. Not the foul reek of sensationalism.

To be completely honest, I take offence with the flying chair awards. It's turning thought-driven personal blogs into commercial flying-circuses for the crass entertainment of the public. It's turning ordinary people, with their funny little neuroticisms into celebrity wannabes driven by their latent - but now reawakened narcicissm.
It's destroying the point of blogging.

Anne Frank had a diary. She epitomised the spirit of diary-writing. Caught between hell, and a hot place, she chose to laugh, and write.

She didn't write for the large cine-audience that would one day watch her diary transformed into images on big-screen. She didn't even write for a literary audience that would, in days to come long after her death, applaud her frank sincerity. She didn't write for attention - in her world, attention brought death at the end of a hot, indifferent, smoking muzzle.

She wrote for herself.
She wrote because she loved to.
And therein lies the spirit of blogging.

I would never demean any of my friend's blogs by nominating them for the flying chair awards - unless they asked me to. They belong, quietly tucked away and treasured by the people who love them. And if they have hundreds upon thousands of readers... that is irrelevant. Their owners write, because they love to.

Well, I've had a nice, restful holiday, under the doting care of my parents. I suppose I should feel recharged and raring to go, but I just wish I had had longer with them.
Also had several meetings with friends, including two quiet, tranquil dinners with V. V remains much the way I remember her, and looking back on my past I can understand the whys of the paths I trod. In a multiverse of 20 minute universes, however, the what-if universes of yesteryear do not bear much reminiscence, since they obliterate in their passing. My reality today is the shop-floor, like the geeky guy with bad hair in Scrubs, today is the overbearing boss, the stroppy patient, although not, to date, the flirtatious woman trapped in MRI machine (which I shall await with fervour lol)
Meeting K was good, he remains much the way I remember as well. And D looked happier than I have ever seen her; I suppose for the first time she's in a constructive (as opposed to destructive) relationship, on the brink of marriage and glowing with potential bride-hood.
Sometimes I wish I could turn the clock back, to happier times. At times I even wish I could turn them back still further, till times when I hadn't learnt really the meaning of bittersweet, but thought in my own juvenile, world-weary, pre-cynical manner that I was fine, and that it was the world around me that was fecked up.
Just ordinarily happy, back a long, long time ago when the quest for Perfect Flight in a paper aeroplane was obsessively paramount.