Crystals

Why is it infinitely easier to write pointless fillers than anything serious? Okay, not that I am going to analyze the socio-economic problems posed by the relaxation of immigration policy or the correlation of MTV and consumerism in the late 20th century youth. Neither do I have the readership of Mr Brown or xiaxue despite my best efforts to promote readership of my blog by constantly bugging my friends and listing my url on my friendster (not that my 20 friends there would ever result in any form of avalanche in my hits) hence I don't have fans to please or anything like that. Not that the anticipated readers of this blog would need much bibilography with my thinly veiled references to events in my life anyway considering the whine-fest I had subjected my friends to lately.

See what I mean? Without being conscious of it I have written one line of my intended post and tons of fillers. Anyway, back to the point before I go on another irrelevant tangent, its more natural for me to spout rubbish than any semblance of sense. Take for example this time Ling called me and asked an innocent question "what are you doing?" Even though I was in the office pretending to work, somehow I stumbled and stuttered through my answer as though I was called upon to justify some million dollar mistake I made. Then she just went "Huh? What's wrong with you" and like snapping out of a trance I promptly replied "Nothing much, I am now thinking of you and how much I long to see your sweet face and listen to the gentle sound of your voice". Just like that, nonsense just comes to me naturally where a simple answer would have sufficed.

When it comes to the crunch, the buzzer beater when push comes to shove, I freeze. FREEZE. Imagine a band playing and when it's time for the guitar solo, instead of launching away, the lead guitarist proceeds to tune his guitar and all you hear is "da, da, da, da, da" and starts to do some scales to warm up and then tune some more. That kind of thing. This is what comes to mind when I think of my futile attempts at conveying certain thoughts.

Like now, I had intended to talk about something else, I have been dancing around the theme the way a boxer circles his opponent. For me, I have only been feinting and nary a jab has been thrown let alone any uppercuts or swings. Oh well, since this is the case, let it be. Ciao.

My favourite things

(with apologies to Julie Andrews) just a little pointless lil distraction from me:

Single malt whiskeys and Martell with water,
Tequila shooters and Bacardi with tonic,
drink it fast and drink it a lot,
these are a few of my favorite things.

Long eye lashes and ah-gong spectacles,
infectious laughter and a sense of humour,
girls that pay heed to your money,
these are a few of my favorite things.

Stanley Clarke and Stanley Jordan,
Coltrane and Davis and Hancock and Monk,
throw in a dash of Twin-se and Eason,
these are a few of my favorite things.

When my boss scolds, when the bill comes,
when I'm feeling mad,
I simply remember my favorite things,
and then I can go to bed.

The winter of discontent eventually leads to the spring of regeneration

The fertile mind of my infertile existence culminates in this, it was the best of times, it was the worst of times: the winter of discontent. A phenomenon that had been raging for some time, affecting me in more ways than one would imagine.

It's been a long winter and the temperature alternates between freezing cold and raging hot faster than gear shifts through a hair pin on a Initial D clip. There are many colors on the canvass of discontentment to be painted, injustice at work, slower progess at work than i envisioned, no breakthroughs in certain areas, unanswered prayers, recurring thoughts that I should not entertain, silly colleagues who are such a pain to work with, unappreciative people, my unappreciative self. In simplicity, it was a deep longing for more. Did I ask too much, more than a lot, you gave me nothing now it's all I got. Ok, that was from U2, not me.

Back to the point, I had become a human whining machine, whining faster than Yngwie Malsteem soloing on LSD. And when I don't whine, the bitterness grows in me like a cancerous tumour. Therein lies the Catch 22 situation: do you whine so that you seek solace from your sorrows henceforth maintaining some semblance of sanity or do you expressively expose your innermost thoughts thereby alienating yourself from anyone who does not have a fetish for misery? Ergo, I blog, unleashing upon the world wide web the pent up frustrations of a panting punished individual. Ok, the last part doesn't really make sense but I thought it had some 'umph' in it, also taking some literary liberties with my attempts at alliteration.

Was it mere coincidence that disappointment chose to hunt in packs, converge like rays of light through a magnifying glass? Was there a deeper root behind all these? Or did the problem lie with the perpetrator of pain? The answer came to me sudden as thunder on a sunny day. As with all sources of wisdom it was from the Bible: Heb 13:5 "Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have. For He Himself has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you" (NKJV). It just struck me, that this sense of depressive bitterness was birthed out of a lack of significance, that I sought worldly achievements or possessions to fill this lack in me. That I feared to be caught inferior in relation to my peers, that I feared my friends would depart, leaving me in a solitary existence. I was hungry and thirsty for more, because I had not drank of the Living waters, have not eaten of the bread of life.

A clearer translation would be found in the Amplified version of the same verse: Let your character or moral disposition be free from love of money [including greed, avarice, lust, and craving for earthly possessions] and be satisfied with your present [circumstances and with what you have]; for He [God] Himself has said, I will not in any way fail you nor give you up nor leave you without support. [I will] not, [I will] not, [I will] not in any degree leave you helpless nor forsake nor let [you] down (relax My hold on you)! [Assuredly not!].

As I meditated on this words, I started reflecting on my behaviour. Was I treating my Almighty as a divine vending machine? Had I soughts the means but not the ends? Was I seeking the gifts and not the Giver? His presents but not His presence? I was seeking success in my career, my social life, my pursuits, my interests merely to fill a void in me, that I needed justification for my existence. Recognition for my endeavors. Fulfilment in futility or futility of fulfilment was all I got simply because I did not address the root. Enthusiasm comes from the Greek words en (in) theos (god), little wonder over the past few months I approached the simple act of getting out of bed the way a death row prisoner approaches the electric chair. I had relegated my Lord to a one dimensional relationship, a divine butler of sorts. When my requests were not met, a basic sense of decency prevented me from raging against my maker, henceforth my rage was directed unjustly against the people around me as well as myself.

Last Sunday, I was lead to this verse, Haggai 1:4-6: “Is it time for you yourselves to dwell in your paneled houses, and this temple to lie in ruins?” Now therefore, thus says the LORD of hosts: “Consider your ways! “ You have sown much, and bring in little; You eat, but do not have enough; You drink, but you are not filled with drink; You clothe yourselves, but no one is warm; And he who earns wages, Earns wages to put into a bag with holes.” (NKJV). I realised that I was searching high and low for an answer when I had been asking the wrong question. It wasn't a question of what I needed to do to get my prayers answered, the question was what was wrong with my life. Like a pagan, I had forsaken my relationship with my Savior, relegating Him to a relationship that I felt was comfortable, one where I prayed what I wanted and said 'amen' quickly before I could get an answer. Yet, the issue was simple, the temple was lying in ruins. I looked at some piles of stones and mistake them for a temple, a fleeting flirtation with God and I thought I was walking with Him, a quick glance at the Bible and categorize it as quiet time. It's like swirling some 20 year old single malt whiskey and not drinking (here I must say that I am a whiskey man not a wine person hence a slight deviation off the normal analogy). In short, against all odds I had chose to remain unfulfilled when fulfilment was right at my face.

I can think of no better way to sum this up than the words of the Apostle Paul written in Philipians 4:12-13 "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength." In short, I had been hankering after the wrong things, chasing clouds when all I really needed was one thing.
"One thing I have desired of the LORD,
That will I seek:
That I may dwell in the house of the LORD
All the days of my life, To behold the beauty of the LORD, And to inquire in His temple." Psa 27:4 (NKJV)

Sorry that this entry is a departure from my typical bitchy entries. If you were looking for entertainment or cheap laughs sorry to disappoint you cause I just needed to organize and crystalize my thoughts.

The way it used to be

Things around us just weren't the way they were in the 90s. Okay, the way I started out was like some old fart living out the reality of the mantra "the older i get, the better i was". Nonetheless, it just struck me that whether you want to call it evolution or development, definitely the social landscape and the environment around us has changed/deteoriated since then.

For starters, music. Modern day popular music largely is pure garbage, derivative, cliched and worse still largely electronic in nature. No offense to the masses (then again, totally no conviction in that statement) but I can't imagine why would people want to listen to dance/house/trance/jungle/cacophony when they are not high on drugs, liquor or sex. All those sounds like the neighbouring construction site to me, with repeatitive rhythmic beats akin to that of a whatever-you-call-it-machine pounding on the ground. The limited semblance of melody brings to mind a cat in heat. When I just flipped through Guitar World the other day for the first time in maybe 8 years, seems to me that they are talking about the same people they did when I religiously bought every issue. Then again, its not surprising since its not Electronica World or whatever is the equivalent of it. Technology can actually be a curse when any tone deaf guy/girl/guygirl can just put together some beats on their Mac and add some absurd noises, string it together, repeat ad infinitum and cut an album. Gone were the days were musicians actually had to had to combine talent with raw diligence to achieve anything. Ok, to be fair, in the past you had people like Kylie Minogue who achieved fame with neither of that, which probably explains her comeback. I would rather listen to my lousy Sunny roaring/whimpering then to tune to 98 or 98.7 while driving.

Another point of contention, ah bengs. Yup, they don't make them like they used to do they? When was the last time you saw the once ubiqitous blondie with overlap hair and the signature orange comb with the long spike? Even more sacrilegious, many a self-professed modern day ah beng quarrel in Australian accented English. Blame in on affluent parents who allow their children to be forcefully educated beyond their intelligence by sending them to Australian universities.

Also, how about the Hong Kong movie scene? The 90's was chock full with great movies like the Young and Dangerous Trilogy, The Mission, The Longest Night just to name a few. The last five years, less movies are coming out from HK and lower in quality. Apart from Running out of time, SPL and Infernal Affairs, nothing of note comes to mind. I love Twins-se but seriously almost all their movies are garbage derivative crap that gives HK movies its bad name. Of course the past year there was Election (just the first one) and lately Exiled. Yet, you can see that even Korean movies seems to get more screens than Hong Kong movies in our local cinemas.

Sigh, decline is in the air.

Some laws that should be passed

Even as there are some unappreciative people who complain that the government passes too many restrictive laws, I think there are some that somehow was missed by the radar.

1) There should be a law restricting the size of dogs that Singaporeans are allowed to keep. Nothing over the size of a Jack Russell (which incidentally is a combination of the names of my two best friends but i digress) should suffice in our tiny little country. Why in blue hell should people keep such huge monstrosities to scare their neighbours? I kid you not, I am not exactly bite size but I imagine I must look that way to some of these beings. What do their owners feed them?

2) There should be a law prohibiting people from making up their own names. It's all nice to be desire uniqueness and all that but why on earth would people want to call themselves some names that are plainly abominations. I would like to give examples but considering some of them are second degree friends, I decided to merely generalize. It's just completely beyond me why some people think it is cute to combine two common names and suddenly voila, they are unique. Its Oriental, Bohemian, Indie, Avant-garde, New age, Gothic or OBIANG for short.

3) There should be some statute in the employment act preventing employers from surrounding their poor employees like me with bimbos and bitches. And on top of that, pyschiatric treatment is not covered by medical policy or general insurance. One word: tragic.

4) There should be a law against bad wanton mee. Do you know how miserable it is to have a bad day at work and when you seek solace from your only pleasure between 9 to 6 each day..... You don't. How do these people live with themselves? If you can't cook wanton mee, don't. How can you raise my hopes only to dash it so cruelly.

5) There should be a law against car park attendants targeting specific vehicles. Okay, actually I can't really argue this.

When a butterfly flutters its wings, somewhere there is an earthquake

In other words, this is another totally nonsensical post. Not that my previous posts were ever Pulitzer worthy. Anyway, I had an inspired moment to blog, but as with all things associated with DC, as I ponder (to fine tune the general theme) I procrastinate. Either that or my i-tunes to putting Coltrane now and I think I am getting into the spirit of free spirited improvisation. Read: I am blabbling incoherently.

Two days in a row I have slept below my safety limits. I got some sleeping pills from my company quack as insurance that I won't see three. But this is really taking a toll on me, I was pretty certain I could sleep like a babe (pig) last night but Jack & me took a good hard look at the remnants of our Glenfiddich, knowing full well another two bottles have landed last night (a big thank you to Justine and Sheryl btw) and proceeded to finish it. And after lapping up the last drop, we proceeded to devour the Beefeater that was still lying around. Must have been a long time since I had anything other than whiskey/brandy/cognac/tequila so that was good. Anyway, as with each time we drink at home, we drink with such passion that it feels like time stood still. As though we were still the 2 adolescents 10 years ago when we could first legally drink. In short we drank a lot. And till it was pretty late (early?) too.

Suffice to say, this morning we looked like extras from Night of the Living Dead or something. In this state, I seem to see my fingers moving across the keyboard like Eddie Van Halen across his fretboard and yet I am scarcely conscious of what I am typing. Looks like a rare early early night for me.

My wildest fantasy

Just for the record, other than occasional explicit language, this is a family friendly blog after all. Nothing about riding a leather clad Alyssa Milano with a whip in one hand and a burning candle in the other. Nothing about deep throat and leopard prints either. Lately, I have this wild fantasy about being a mafiaso. Ok, this isn't exactly something of late. Anyway, I have this weird fantasy that keeps playing out in my head lately. It's a tele-conversation that involves me and some pseudo-beng.

Pseudo-beng: Hey Derek, I am warning you, you better back-off.
DC: Is that a threat? Sounds to me like you are threatening me? You want to come right out and say it to my face? Name the time and the place, come on say it to my face.
PB: Er...... (suddenly taken aback)
DC: Come on, you have a threat to make? You want to make good your threat? Come on, go ahead and make some calls, call some friends along. I will be waiting. Call a whole army for all I care, I will be going alone though.
PB: Why? Don't have any friends? Loser?
DC: My friends will stop me from going overboard. It's better to go alone, so come on, where and when you wanna carry out your threat. I am begging you, hurt me, please.
PB: (Click)

Ah, immensely satisfying thought. Si bei man, now I can go back to cowering and whimpering when my boss speaks.

Coming out of the closet

There's much about my life to be embarassed about. Things I wish could be buried forever, then again, I have remarkable disinterest in my self-image. Without further ado, here they are:

1) I am supremely 无聊. I kid you not, when I am bored which generally occurs on a working Saturday (and I use 'working' in the loosest sense of the word) especially when my boss is notaround, I do extremely boliao things. Like now, I am blogging at my office work station. Anyway, this morning, I had nothing to do, so I went to my office HR & admin IC and asked her what is company's policy on psychiatric treatment, whether it is covered by our medical benefits and what are the leave entitlements with regards to it. Of course I asked her in a low monotone that seems to connotate my inability to conceal some deep grief or depression. Then she looked so shocked and started to ask what happened to me etc. Then a couple of colleagues near her also looked up and wondered what was going on.

2) I am a closet mat rocker. I hate to admit it but I can't deny it any further. When I was young-er and didn't know better, I used to listen to Skid Row, Candlebox, Pearl Jam and Smashing Pumpkins (pre-Mellon Collie and the infinite sadness) all the time. However I have left that behind for the past 6 years, or so I thought. Lately, as some long forgotten emotions of angst and discontentment surfaced in my life, some familiar tunes started ringing in my head again. Things came to a pass when I bought a CD with the title Vintage Rocks which just as well could read, Mat Rock Essentials or the Mat Anthology. Good grief, hope I am not taken back in time to the age of big hair bands and never ending self-glorifying solos.

3) I like tequila. Not tequila as in Inspector Tequila ala Hard Boiled but that cheap tasting liquor. Ya ya, I know, in anycase, taste is subjective.

4) I have uncle taste. Then again, this is not so much in the closet afterall, my friend regularly calls me 大叔. As I look at the Ashworth polo T I am wearing together with my uncle sandals, man, I must look 35 at least. Maybe I should start humming a 李克勤 or 陈百强 tune to complete the image. Incidentally, did you know that I actually like quite a number of Hokkien tunes and I like to drink coffee at hotel lounges?

5) I am exceedingly bitchy. Ok, if you didn't already know this, you don't know me, at all.

Revelation

I have been deceived. For almost ten years of my life I have been living a lie, it was only a mere few weeks ago I realize what a fool I had been. I thought I knew whisky, its taste, its smell, the sheer warmth it brings to your throat and stomach. Well I was wrong. For the first time in my life, I tasted Glenfiddich and I knew that was whisky. This is what whisky is all about, all these times when I thought I was drinking whisky with Chivas and Jack Daniel, I was wrong.

The first time i tasted it.......... Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

Oh, truly a touch of the divine, no words can do it justice.

I give up

You had me, I didn't think it would ever be possible, that this day would ever come but here it is. Those darned new MOH warning pictures on cigarette boxes really got me, against my better judgement i gave in. I am going to buy a cigarette case.

You see, when it was first introduced, I was mildly affected by the "Smoking causes stroke" pics. Initially it caused some minor disturbance, but after a while, I could very well look at the pictures and eat pig brain's soup. My personal favourite is "Smoking harms your family" and I totally agree, hence as a responsible adult, I do not smoke in front of my family. "Smoking causes a slow and painful death"? Yup, I am going to quit smoking soon, way before the slow and painful death sets in.

The latest series in this silly campaign however, is far more disgusting. The 'smoking causes gangrene' ones cause me to itch all over. The 'smoking causes neck cancer' is rather disturbing. But what really takes the cake is 'smoking increases the risk of miscarriage'. Which freaking sadist thought of that? That bloody baby (no pun intended) is like a scene from Ju-on or something, nearly gave me nightmares when I first saw it. Its seriously sick. No joke, hence I really give up, even though its clumbersome, its poseur, I am going to get myself a cigarette case.

I hope MOH is happy.