Useless rubbish...

Ever felt like blogging something without actually having anything good/useful/funny/anything resembling normalcy to blog about?

Yeah....

Gah, I wish my brain would hurry up and get creative! No point doing CD reviews if they were boring, right?

I'll tell you one thing, THIS post will definitely not get Tomorrowed. Pity, the last time it happened, this blog got a nice healthy spike in readers for a few hours. Good times, good times....

Cough, cough, wheeze, wheeze, oh what a pain it is....

Why does Santa have three farms? Because he likes to hoe hoe hoe.

Strange fever this. It's mostly gone during the day, but I go to sleep, and it returns right after I wake up.

Not to mention the return of the dreaded Coughs. So bad it woke me up twice at 2 and 4 am. And the awful cough mixture, BLEH!

This fever better hurry up and leave, I've got a job to find!

Sad last week, wasn't it? My cousins lost a grandfather, my sister lost a good friend. It's been a very long time since I last experienced both. Not ones I'd like repeats of. My condolences, guys.

Be very afraid...

That, my friends, is my neighbourhood, as seen from Google Earth.

Gives you a warm feeling inside you, doesn't it?

Here's 2 more pictures of our sunny island.


Marina Bay


Orchard Road

Temperature's rising....

I'll have you guys know that the last time I played in the rain was 2 Sunday mornings ago.

So can anybody explain the 39 degree temperature I have ONLY now?!

Thing is, I only got sick after eating some chicken 2 nights ago.

I repeat, chicken.

Argh! And December was going so well...

Just spreading a quick word...

I forgot if I've said this before, but I'll say it anyway:



Sure, it'll make some blogs look wonky. But c'mon! Better security! Slightly faster loading! TABBED BROWSING!

To end baldness caused by hair-pulling from IE problems, click here.

Time's Persons of the Year 2005

Methinks Time ran out of ideas here. I mean, try naming 1 person as 2005's Person of the Year yourself.

Hard, isn't it?

Here's how I see it. 2005 will be forever known as the year of the natural disasters. The tsunami aftermath (not the tsunami itself, that's still 2004), Hurricane Katrina, Indian earthquake. So Time's editors might decide to be cute this year and put Mother Nature as "Person" of the Year. (See 1984: PC for Machine of the Year; 1989: Endangered Earth for Planet of the Year.) But they thankfully steered away from that. However, I'm in favour of putting ALL the relief workers who helped with the disasters as People of the Year, e.g the year when the American GI was Man of the Year. But I suppose that won't sell copies.

So they put Bill Gates, his wife and Bono. Sure, those three are the poster childs when it comes to helping the needy. Just imagine how richer Bill would be if he wasn't so generous. Consider me cynical though, but this is probably just a good way to sell copies. Notice how Bono is at the center. Besides, I have a feeling Time has always wanted to put good ol' Bill as Person of the Year for the longest time. They missed the boat at 1995, when he DID deserve the honour.

Ah well, what do I know about Time's business practices anyway? Just consider this a writing exercise of my awareness of current affairs.

I get by with a little help from my friends....

I don't usually post song lyrics here. That seems kinda like what a tweenage female blogger would do. You know, the ones who tYpE LyKe tHiS LOL and put their pics all over their blogs, their oh-so-blindingly bright coloured blogs?

EDIT (December 20 2005): See what I mean?

But then again, they usually post lyrics by boybands (HACK!) and Avril (HACK!!!!). Nothin' by the Beatles. And this song from Sgt. Pepper's (review coming soon) is now one of my theme songs. I'll explain the song and how it means to me in the album review. For now, I'll let the song explain itself. Relax, read the lyrics, try to find and listen to the song itself, and let the good times roll. Preferably with a good friend of your own.

With A Little Help From My Friends - The Beatles

What would you think if I sang out of tune,
Would you stand up and walk out on me.
Lend me your ears and I’ll sing you a song,
And I’ll try not to sing out of key.
I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends.

What do I do when my love is away.
(does it worry you to be alone)
How do I feel by the end of the day
(are you sad because you’re on your own)
No I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends.

Do you need anybody,
I need somebody to love.
Could it be anybody
I want somebody to love.

(Would you believe in a love at first sight,)
Yes I’m certain that it happens all the time.
(What do you see when you turn out the light,)
I can’t tell you, but I know it’s mine.
Oh I get by with a little help from my friends,
I get high with a little help from my friends,
Going to try with a little help from my friends.

Do you need anybody,
I just need someone to love,
Could it be anybody,
I want somebody to love.
I get by with a little help from my friends,
Yes I get by with a little help from my friends,
With a little help from my friends.

What am I doing up this early?

Usually, it's 10, 11 am. Oh well, can't complain, I get to eat breakfast earlier.

Now, I'm just opening my eyes up to the fact that I may be interested in too much stuff. Like Metal just like I said in that last post. I'll buy CDs and attend concerts.

Also interested in movies. I'll buy the tickets. How about TV? I'll diligently watch all my favourite shows. Soccer? Of course, I try to watch every match on ESPN. Oh yeah, let's not forget the other genres of music that I like. I do listen to every genre that I can, with of course the preference to Pop (buy CDs), Dance (CDs and clubs) and SOME aspects of Rock (if it's Punk, forget it).

Books? Trying to save up for Dan Brown. Food? Got the belly to prove my love for it. Sci-Fi? I don't even know where to begin. Wrestling? Gimme the remote, it's time for Smackdown! Dancing? Not that I can breakdance, but I sure can move my feet if the music moves me. The Arts? When I can go to a play that suits my fancy, I will. The internet? More than 100 blog posts, and it still ain't enough.

I'm definitely interested in losing the aforementioned belly.

See, I don't know about you guys, but I'm so stretched thin by all these interests I'm giving myself. I don't have the time, and even less money, to indulge them all!

I'm so confused.....

I've got blisters on my fingers!

Writers are right when they say the skill of writing depends on several factors, one of them being that you have to be prolific in this, write every day to hone your skills, the more you put off your writing, the more you won't feel like writing. It's kinda true now, I don't feel like writing this piece, but I don't want this blog to lay stagnant. This is not me apologising if this post isn't up to your God knows how high standards. Or maybe it is. Bah, chances are you won't care anyway so let's move on.

I've got a few notes on that supposedly Devilishly evil music they call Heavy Metal, an area of music so big it's got it's own section in HMV. It's basically for me, just loud drums, grinding guitars and loud unintelligable words. Seriously, I heared the Slipknot live album at HMV and all I could make out was "RAAAARRRAARAHAHRHARMUTHAPUCKARARHRRAHHAHARHA!!!!". So you know what? There may be some life-changing message in those lyrics, but if I can't understand it, I won't care. I'll just enjoy the loud drums and grinding guitars, which I do take a visceral pleasure in. And anyway, that's how I approach most music. The melody first, the lyrics later, if ever. But anyway, I was always a little blase about metal. My Dad's past insistence on putting Deep Purple, Scorpions and some Malay bands on the CD player again and again and again made sure of that. Seriously, if I hear that blasted whistle opening of 'Winds of Change', I'm going to blow some wind myself.

It's only after listening to the so-called first ever Metal song, 'Helter Skelter' by the Beatles, did I really start getting into the metal sound. That song, BTW, also made me a Beatle fan. I mean, seriously, who knew sappy, melodramatic Paul McCartney could rock (and I do mean RAWK!) like that? Anyway, I'm really starting to get into the whole Metal soung thing. Particularly if it's Emo. I don't know why I didn't get into Emo sooner, it sounds perfect for me. Just as long as I stay away from the old stuff my Dad digs, I'm fine with any other Heavy Metal song or band.

Like the Best of Pantera album I just bought. It's loud, it's fun, it's perfect for a personal Primal Scream session. And Dimebag really can play that mother. And no, I wasn't aware of his death anniversary until the day after I bought it. I am however aware that John Lennon's 25th death anniversary is today. Heh. (RIP, Johnny boy)

Anyway, I just think the CD's alright, but I only listened to it once, because I kinda enjoyed the other CD I bought that day, Sgt. Pepper's. I listened to that every day for a week. But that's probably for another post. Just warning you that if you do listen to Sgt. Pepper's, don't do it right after a hard-rocking album like Pantera's. You'll end up feeling a little under-whelmed.

I am well aware that Heavy Metal is just as much a visual affair as it is an aural one. If I'm ever to experience the full Metal experience, (as full as I'm ever going to get in sunny Singapore) I'll have to be in a concert. I'm also well aware of what exactly happens in those concerts. Looking at the Slipknot concert photos, I wonder if I would even survive. Those Hell's Angels stories don't make it better.

The closest to a metal concert I've been to? Once, I was at a mini-concert. There I was in the middle of the crowd. I suppose I should have seen the warning signs, which came in the form of rocker type people surrounding me. Yep, that was one time I did stand out, image wise. Anyway, Cherry Chocolate Candy was leaving the stage, and the Bushmen came on. And before I knew it, I was right in the middle of a freakin' mosh pit! At least I think it was a mosh pit, it was all a blur. But there sure was a whole lotta bumping. I'll never forget that moment, least of all when I tried to grab something, anything and (oh boy) grabbed some woman's breast. That wasn't the memorable part, it's the flirtatious way she looked at me after it happened that creeped me out. One quick and profuse apology (and a wink from her) later, I pried myself out and high-tailed it out of there. This happened near Woodlands MRT. The scary thing is, I know that's NOTHING compared to what I might see and experience in, say, a Metallica concert. My skin is crawling just thinking about it. But hey, I'll do anything once.

One last note. If anyone ever hears me describe any song as 'BRUTAL!', please feel free to shoot me.

Earworm of the Moment

A Day in the Life by the Beatles

One of those avant-garde songs from one of those avant-garde albums, this being Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. Loved John's depressed part, Paul's happy part, the orchestra, the babbling at the end, the note so high only dogs can hear. Heck, I love the whole album. Not at first, but this is one of those albums where you have to listen more than once.

Curse of the Dad

Ok, I got in trouble with my Dad. Again. So he took away the modem. Again. So now only my sister can use in front of him. Again.

So here I am reduced to typing this post in Ngee Ann. What to do, may as well get used to not being on the internet and blogging and chatting on MSN as often as I like.

Again.

Writer's Block stinks.

True story: When I was a lot younger, I had ambitions to be a writer. Not surprising considering I was probably the biggest bookworm in Bukit Gombak. Ideas keep floating in my head. Most of 'em pretty dumb, e.g. Earth on a collision course with asteroid THRICE it's size. I even envisioned myself as a secret agent, going to each continent to fight crime in all its forms. I planned a grand death scene for myself in Antartica. Heck, I even imagined the covers, with me posing ala James Bond. With horrible teeth and baby fat.

And how about this? A story about people who see an apparition, which looks like a ghostly circle. And the people who see that apparition would die in 7 days. And what did I give it as a title? "The Ring". Years before Sadako haunted movie screens everywhere. I swear on my handphone it's true.

Ah, those were the (very imaginative) days. What happened? Y'know, the reason I usually get such high marks in my essay writings back in secondary school was not just because of my grammar and vocab. In fact, I knew my command of both was excellent so I concentrated on trying to actually entertain the teacher marking the paper, making 'em laugh or cry. Good vocab, good grammar, and damn good story-telling. That's what I counted on to pass my essay writings. Oh, and lots of practise too, which I got in school. Ah, but no more. For three years now, I've let the story-teller in me lay dormant. And the result? You're looking at it. Periods of brightness but overall, a snoozefest. One huge reason for me getting a blog was to just plain and simply write. About anything really. But, well, I was never good at non-fictional stuff, was I? It's always fiction I excelled at.

I'm not saying I'm going to write The Great Singapore Novel and publish it or anything. I'm just going to doodle a bit and see what I can come up with. I might even tackle that very interesting sci-fi story my cousin told me. If she doesn't mind of course, it is her story after all.

To jumpstart my creative juices a bit (and kill the ever-increasing boredom enveloping me), I've given myself a personal challenge. Borrow Homer's The Iliad, William Thackeray's Vanity Fair and James Joyce's Ulysses from the library and finish them all in the three weeks I'm allowed to keep them. That's over 2000 pages.

Can I do it?

Probably not. But I'll have fun trying anyway.

As a final sidenote, I'm getting rid of the old Tagboard. Nothing wrong with it, but I just find myself preferring CBox nowadays. And I might as well start to actually reply to all your tags. It'll be rude not to.

Taken from Tomorrow.sg.....

First, a party hosted by the Young Deluded Fools PAP.



It's on a Friday, so I may not be able to go. But it's still an interesting sounding party isn't it?

And a point I want to make: the party hosted by the PAP at Zouk, with all-white dress code and Dear Leader Lee and all a few months back? Candidate for 'WTF? Moment of the Year'.

And then there's this:

Rock scissors paper stone Concert

According to Alan from that site: ""Joie de Vivre" - 'Joy of Life', is our way of allowing local bands to display their creativity when it comes to music by performing their original compositions. These songs consist of several different kinds of genres ranging from rock to blues. Through this event, we hope to raise the public awareness of local music and the undiscovered talents of budding bands."

Didn't I say I wanted to go to a concert like this? Sweet.

Not all limericks have to be funny or, for that matter, good...

I always avoid any strife
Don't hate, it's much better to like
But when Granny's at home
Yelling hard at the phone
I wonder, what's wrong with this life?

Never blog when you're feeling messed-up.

Wow. That last post was...embarrasing.

Should I delete it?

Naaah. Though maybe I'll just censor the F words.

So, in the world of me now.

Original Sin, well, it's been good to me...financially wise. But honestly? I don't belong there. I never belonged there. I felt like an atheist in a church/mosque/synagouge/whatever everytime I step into the place. Ok, fine, I've had my cock-ups there, but I improved, really. But the point is, I'm miserable there, and I can't work being miserable. Yes, I'm aware that I'm going to be in more miserable jobs than this. But at least now, I don't have a family to feed, so I still have a choice. So two weeks notice, and I'm out.

So what's next? I tried Cathay Cineleisure. In fact, I got interviewed yesterday. Unfortunately, I was late for that interview because the stupid bus broke down. I got there 30 minutes late. And when I finally got interviewed, 'sigh', let's just say I didn't talk well, even by my standards.

So, one "We'll call you later" and a day later, no call. The one job I might have actually enjoyed and I probably didn't get it.

Did I get depressed again? Nope. Just resigned. In some ways, that's a little worse.

Cheer up, mate. Harry Potter this Saturday at GV Marina.

Some points about GV Marina. I went there twice, a few months ago for Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and 2 years ago with my dad for Austin Powers in Goldmember. And one thing I noticed both times? Ads. Lots and lots....and LOTS of ads before the movie. There wasn't many people for Charlie, but for Goldmember, the theatre was packed, and the people were pissed. The movies only started 15 minutes later.

Oddly enough, that's why I picked GV Marina again. What can I say, I love ads. And it builds up the anticipation.

A lacklustre post to follow a bizarre post. Nice.

This post is pointless!

(Time to be lame.)

What the hell do I write now? I mean, I'm feeling down in the dumps, again, yet at the same time, I feel on top of the world! (In short, Everest in the Marianas Trench)

Can someone just please tell me how to talk properly, it really would be nice. No more uhs, ums, stutters and Bugs Bunny voice. (Meh, the voice is cute sometimes, I must admit.)

Imagine no possesions? Sorry John, can't do that. You wanna be a hermit, fine, be my guest. And say hi to George for me. (Hi, Fiz!)

Toot sweets, chaps! CloretsTM makes you go all minty fresh inside! (No, no, Listerine is the way to go!)

All the imaginary friends in the world can't help cure my acne. (Well, of course they won't. They're not trained dermatologists.)

Did you know that Champagne is used to worship fleas? (I prefer to use a nice Chardonnay.)

I'm a topsy-turvy mad-man, flipping about with a chained keyboard. (Pfft, mad-MAN? Don't flatter yourself!)

Am I making sense? Is Bush a moron? (Un-American! Oh wait...)

Who ordered this lava lamp anyway? (The 70s. They want it back by the way.)

I just got married...to my hand. (Well, at least you don't need to talk to it anymore.)

I may be a creep, I may be a loser, I may even wonder what the hell I'm doing here, but funk, funk, FUNK IT! ;) I'm going to make damn sure that I do belong here! (Somewhere, Thom Yorke is seething.)

So ends this post. Cheerio! (Cheerio then! And don't write crap like this again!)

Get your White Elephants right here!

Whether you know about the Buangkok White Elephant or not...is irrelevant. (Personally, I think it was Over-Reaction 101 on the part of the authorities.)

What matters, is that it inspired a few 16-year-old RGS girls (hate them yet?) to make a t-shirt.

A political comment from a bunch of supposedly apathetic Singaporean teens? Maybe. But who cares? I've been wanting to buy a t-shirt anyway. Why not this? After all, it goes with my eyes. And you can't tell me that elephant doesn't look cute.




Naturally, to avoid a call from those guys in white, they've added a little something in their infosheet.

"We would like to remind the public that even though the White Elephant has become our mascot and symbol for the project, we are in no way attempting to judge or condone the Buangkok MRT incident. Rather, we are using the accidental fame of the elephants to spark interest in our project; they also serve as a reminder that legal boundaries are important and should be adhered to even while expressing one's views and opinions about political issues."

Translation: PLEASE DON'T SUE US, LEH! WE PROMISE TO BE GOOD LOYAL SINGAPOREANS AND NEVER MIGRATE, EVER!

Ring 'em up at proj.white.elephant@gmail.com for purchase details. That's if you decide that the shirt goes with your shoes. More info here.

Note to self: Cancel Psychiatry as career option

I've always wanted to see a psychiatrist. Ever since that one episode of Animaniacs, with the Warner brothers and sister seeing that "Pee-see-ky-atrist". Always wondered what they would make of my own mind. Heaven knows, I often wonder if I'm sane at all at times.

I basically have 2 versions of myself I use in public. The "quiet" guy, who would just sit there, a glazed look on his face, lost in his own world, smiling only feebly at people when he was addressed. I usually use persona that in front of strangers, like new classmates. Sure, some people would find this silent person interesting, and try to get through to them. But the "quiet" guy, ever skeptical about the intentions of these people, would always try to back away from them. He suceeds with some of them, losing possibly good friends in the process. This guy usually pops up whenever I get depressed, which I must add, is getting more frequent.

Then there is the "cartoon" guy. He usually pops up when I'm in a good mood and surrounded by people I know and love. He's talkative, interested in everything around him, a joker with a plethora of lame jokes, a very sociable person (believe it or not) and just flat-out crazy. Some find him weird, some find him charming. This guy, I swear to God, nearly got me a few girlfriends. The reason I still don't have one is because here, the skeptical trait of the "quiet" guy creeps in, and I back out at the last moment. I try to use this persona every day, but the world being what it is, and me being a natural pessimist, I can't help but let the "quiet" guy take over, even for a few minutes.

But whatever persona I use, some traits of mine remain the same. I'm dopey, a blur-toad and a little slow on the uptake. See, I may have just said the same thing three times! It's my need to impress people, my need to repent for the horrible mistakes I made regarding my social life in the past. But I still cannot get myself over the teases, taunts and outright bullying I endured in Primaries 1 to 3. I think from then on, I have always treated new people with a little apprehension. "Are they going to like me? Are they going to make fun of me? Call me names? Oh God, I better not risk it, I have to stay away from them!" All that really came to a head when the teasings reached a vindictive high, my attention span mysteriously dropping which lead to a near-catastrophic fall of grades, and a damn tuition teacher which went too far in disciplining me for the aforementioned attention span drop that led to me having a hatred to anything to do with tuition.

It may be ten years ago, and it may seem nothing to some of you, but honestly, I don't think my confidence and self-esteem ever recovered from that year on. From one of the best students to a mediocre one. Thank God my English actually improved after all that, or I may have ended up somewhere worse that Yusof Ishak Secondary School. (No offense, YISS, I still love you! :D)

After reading that article of parents using hypnotism to improve their child's minds, and more recently, Wigan Athletic using hypnotism to help their players reach an unbelievable 2nd place in the English Premiership, I'm considering begging my parents to send me to Woodbridge or wherever pronto. Does it really work? Does it have scientific merit? Hell if I know. But after the last few months of harboring very bad thoughts (of the bloody variety), I'm willing to give it a shot.

Anything's better than another day with the knowledge that the Internet may be my only hope of getting more friends.

Smack those strings!

Oasis' Wonderwall and George Harrison's My Sweet Lord are 2 songs that are part of the reason why I bought that guitar for my birthday. You know, the one collecting dust bunnies at the foot of my bed.

Ok, I am now aiming to play those 2 songs well by this time, in 2 years.

I know, I know. But come on, my NS call-up letter could be in the post box any month now. I'll be too busy training, doing drills and being some guy's bitch to practice.

We need a new camera...

I think I know why I never look good in photos. It's the damn camera itself! It's true what they say, the camera adds 20% to your size. It probably explains why Jamie looks so unbelievably skinny in a not-sexy-at-all way in person, not at all like in FHM.

Damn, my cheeks are chubby.....