"Hi, I'm a Mac..." "Yeah, but I'm the coffee table!"

Remember that super cool Minority Report interface that Tom Cruise was playing around with? Microsoft today has announced Surface, a coffee table with a Minority Report interface that is nothing like I've seen in real life to date.

So here's the thing, you control the interface using your fingers, using natural hand gestures and touch, as though your fingers (mostly the right index finger) were a mouse pointer. You can drag, drop, select, tap... pretty much do what you do with a mouse except you don't need one.

At the same time, the coffee table (as I'm going to call it from now on) recognizes actual physical objects that you put on it. Place a phone on it, the table reads and recognizes your phone and highlights it with a circle. It now becomes something you can interact with. Drag pictures to the phone's circle to sync pictures, music... whatever with it.

A tech'y run through of how it works can be found in this 3 page article: http://www.popularmechanics.com/technology/industry/4217348.html

I suppose from an industry perspective, what this means is that if widely accepted into mainstream technology in 3-5 years time, there will be an increased demand for human interface designers and interior designers who can integrate the hardware/software required to make this work into our homes, shops, supermarkets, public transportation systems, restaurants, nearly everything you can think of.

I suppose psychologically, staring down at a table keeping quiet becomes widely socially acceptable and no longer a sign of antisocial, loner at the bar behaviour. It also means that if you are truly alone with a drink at the bar, you can probably have a pseudo-social interaction (internet chat site or... something else) with your table. You can probably also train your dog to start a report, download your news and blog feeds and cook dinner just by putting paws on the table. The possibilities are endless.

At $5,000 - $10,000 a piece, this little baby is one for the house when I can get my hands on it. And no, you can't put your feet up on the coffee table anymore.

Canada Catholics 'ordain' women

I have my cynicism about this, since I question whether this move had more to do with an economic shortage of single men willing to become ordained into priesthood than a recognition that women and married men willing to leave their homes/families for the church are of equal moral value to the religion.

Australian pub bars heterosexuals

I wonder if you would have to declare your sexuality at the door to the bouncer before wanting a nice cold beer?

"Heck who I'm sleeping with, I just wanted the beer!"

I think it's perfectly clear... we're in the wrong land

I'm going to be missing Tori Amos in concert in London from July 3rd to 4th, all because I'm going to be, for two-three weeks, in the wrong country. Just when Tori Amos decides to play in UK, I have to be out of it.

That said, I've not actually bought American Doll Posse and haven't heard anything specifically from it yet, and was wondering how it is. To be incredibly honest, I've preferred Tori's earlier works (favourite album remains From the Choirgirl Hotel) and haven't really be 100% impressed with her progression, although Scarlet's Walk and The Beekeeper threw back rather well into Under the Pink and almost nearly Boys for Pele. Going by progression, this music should be throwing back to Choirgirl, but hmmm... no chance to test hear it yet.

Browsing through her discography, I realised that there was a time in my life which was a complete Tori Amos blackout period, and I missed two albums completely - Welcome to Sunny Florida and Tales from A Librarian (contains previously unpublished B-sides so doesn't completely count). But how did that happen? What was I listening to in that period of time? Did music not exist in my life? It puts me back to 2003 when both albums were released, and... I can't remember.

I must have been vaguely happy then. Or otherwise just not owning a music player of sorts.

How to Fold a T-Shirt

Believe it or not there is a trick to this. In response to the delightfully random, surprisingly helpful Japanese technique to fold a t-shirt, another fold a shirt non-speaking but probably English demonstration from fold-a-shirt.com came up.



Enuwy and I spent some few really hilarious minutes trying to pick this up, while halfway wondering why on earth some people would have so much time on their hands, yet be so eternally helpful to learn the right way to fold a t-shirt, and then demo it on YouTube.

The original Japanese video is here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-df-Qq829fg watch out for the curiously funny flute music at the point of realisation that you have a folded t-shirt.

And how to fold your socks too, for anyone who is interested: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a6_7W8GzunI I reckon this is one thing some mothers teach you when you're a kid, but only in a long long way (5+ minute video)

Quick note though: folding the shirts that way however really does help to save some space in the closet. I'm absolutely amazed!

Came across this quote from random googling

"Real isn't how you are made. It's a thing that happens to you...When you are Real you don't mind being hurt. It doesn't happen all at once. You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have rough edges, or who have to be carefully kept." -- The Velveteen Rabbit

The Power of Orange Mixers

Apologies for the inside joke in the blog title that probably only two people in the world reading this blog would get, and even then only half of the joke. The joke's for me.

So in trawling my vast array of (semi downloaded, semi ripped) MP3 collection yesterday, I've rediscovered the power of mixer tapes. Or mixer CDs as they are usually these days. Happened to chance across one I made while in York, I think, although I am not sure who it was eventually sent to or who it was meant for (equal chances red/white; equal chances orange on that one I think).

But what struck me was the power of the mixer tape. Damn, I must have had a better ear or better influences then, because even listening to it today, it would have been a compilation that I would have liked to have (the fact I have it notwithstanding).

Here's the playlist, in case you'd like a sample:

1. Annie Lennox - Love Song for a Vampire (the opening)
2. Jewel & Sarah McLachlan - Song for a Winter's Night
3. Lorna Vallings - Taste
4. Goo Goo Dolls - Iris
5. Indigo Girls - Let Love Come to You
6. Clannad & Bono - In a Lifetime
7. Counting Crows - Goodnight Elisabeth
8. John Denver - Annie's Song
9. Jewel & Sarah McLachlan & Indigo Girls - The Water is Wide
10. Sarah McLachlan - I Love You (the closing)

Mix equal parts of sappiness, melancholy and mellowness with a dash of obsession and there you have it, a mixer tape that works in being listenable in the long long run.

I'm pretty sure little fish's mixes far outstrip mine, but as for me and my house, we will listen to sappy music.

[Ed- A correction - it's "mix tapes" apparently, not "mixers" which have something more to do with drinks than music. I learn something new every day... like 'what was I high on when I write some of my blog posts?!']

Claire Yvaine?!

Just browsed on into the trailer for the film adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Stardust. This is one of my favourite graphic novels, and the star Yvaine one of my all time favourite characters.

Yvaine's played by Claire Danes!!! I probably may have cast her as Yvaine some time ago (in fact I probably remember 4 years ago I said she may have been a good Yvaine), but what was I thinking?! Granted, she's got the hair (wig) down pat, but it would take a lot of superb effort on Danes' part to get the subtle wryness of Yvaine's humour accurate. A bit too much wide eyed fallen star innocence (aka Romeo and Juliet) and too little of that wry look which I know that Claire Danes can pull off. And there's something too human and in the flesh about her, with nothing of the ethereal qualities that Yvaine is supposed to have. She's a star for crying out loud, a celestial being - and slightly funny, almost spooky, kind, ethereal and off-kilter that makes her that lovable character that she is. I would almost have preferred Milla Jovovich blonde, does she not have that kick-ass look about her.

I don't know about you, but that bit where Tristan goes, "Here is the crater, this must be where it (the star) fell!" And Claire Danes as Yvaine going, "Yeah... this is where I fell (shrug and tosses long blonde hair off shoulder)" made me cringe a little. It was a little too... high school modern blonde chick for me to digest.

And Michelle Pfeiffer as the evil witch?! Unbelievable. Turning what is probably the most complex Mother Earth character into... hmm, a sultry Sex in the City wannabe. It's a bit of a shame, and I think part of it is due to her hair being just a little too blonde (more red, more Irish and less American in the sexiness). I think in the adaptation, it's gone a little too much in the way of smooth celluloid instead of primal carnal which it should have been. Add dirt in the fingernails tinged with a bit of animal blood to make it realistic.

Nevertheless, the trailer is worth watching, and the movie probably worth waiting for, even if my heart is eternally broken by the film version of Yvaine. It's a good cast, I am not quite sure who to blame for the slightly off kilter performances, however.



And a side note, I know it's not all about the hair, but Yvaine's hair is slightly frizzy, not rebonded straight. After all that falling from the sky at high speeds of lights and what not, how could a star have straight hair?!

So... votes on who Yvaine should be, if not Claire Danes? I would say Bryce Dallas Howard (Layd in the Water), except I can't imagine her blonde or Jane Horrocks (Little Voice).

Fake Plastic Fake Plastic Fake Plastic Fake Plastic Fake Plastic Fake Plastic Fake Plastic

I'm tired of fake plastic whatever.

If one song could encapsulate how I'm feeling at the moment, it's probably this one. And I can't believe I didn't see it all along. Radiohead knew what they were meaning. If I find myself standing in Tesco's, near the gardening section that's so popular these days (now that summer has come), staring at a green plastic watering can, I know which song will be playing in my head.

I'd wanted to be playing I Saved the World Today, but yesterday it was cheesy. The theme of yesterday was empathy, triumph, a sense of feeling like I actually managed to beat the odds. I had even wanted to celebrate my accomplishments, share with you the joy of having gone through something and even made a small, short-term success out of it. And today, empty joy, small victories, fake plastic comments and a sense of hollowness.

All I'd really gotten back was bitterness, envy, fear of not being able to catch up in this fake plastic world. It can take any genuine feeling of happiness and convert it, swiftly, into a sort of guilt that I'm getting it made. I could have done without the thousand bucks, I could have done without the accolades and the recognition. It would have been enough for me with a smile and a genuine thank you from someone I worked for. I could have been happy with a genuine "that's great" and "I'm really happy for you". I guess there are a lot of fake plastic things for you to get hung up on these days.

And it does let me know that I'm not really as over the peak as I think I am.

Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead
A green plastic watering can
For a fake chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth

That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself

It wears her out, it wears her out
It wears her out, it wears her out

She lives with a broken man
A cracked polystyrene man
Who just crumbles and burns

He used to do surgery
On girls in the eighties
But gravity always wins

And it wears him out, it wears him out
It wears him out, it wears him out

She looks like the real thing
She tastes like the real thing
My fake plastic love

But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run

And it wears me out, it wears me out
It wears me out, it wears me out

And if I could be who you wanted
If I could be who you wanted
All the time, all the time

Life Is

I'd promised enuwy this song, probably more than 2 years ago now. I didn't like the music video at first, and then watching it a second time, thought it was very very apt for the song.

Apologies, I'm too lazy to translate, but I will one day. Somehow I think watching it, you'd understand. This reminds me quite a bit of some word of the day photography I've seen lately.

How to Save a Life (the real thing)

So some time ago I wrote what I thought the music video was going to look like. That was before I saw how the real thing actually looked like.

And it was. Woah. Quite brilliant, to be absolutely honest. It actually took a whole spin to the song that I didn't see before. It was about death. About letting go. About reconciliation. Actually, it was about a lot of things, so just watch it.

Le Poulet en Colere (The Angry Chicken)

One of my lesser known, previously retired, now revived hobbies (thanks to youtube) are collecting clever advertisements. I love ads, ads can frequently be the funniest, most innovative spells of entertainment in today's monotonous, long-drawn television.

This one, from more than a few years ago, remains a long standing favourite.

I want to know what company Nike hires for their ads. And give them an award if they haven't won one already.

Who owns who?

The most psycho-realistic car ad seen on television today. Sometimes I just love watching European TV.

Le ciel est à tout le monde

So I found the address and website of the shop I was looking for. And it seems that they have branches!!

Although the one I think I might have stumbled into sounds most like the one at the Carrousel du Louvre, 99 rue de Rivoli, near the back of the modern museum of art.

Cosy in the Rocket with Le Petit Prince

Since you said you didn't know how the Psapp song went (silly you) - here's a little snippet that is not Grey's Anatomy related. You can't believe how difficult it is to find a bit that isn't - honestly, it's a bit misused and overused by now.

Imagine this with Le Petit Prince. It's not difficult to imagine. I'm determined to do one with The Little Prince actually, think it will go perfectly.

Tick, tock, ready for the sky and I'm
tip, top, ready to go go go...
Come, come, fly into my palm and collapse.

I can remember the illustrations in my mind and I think I can nearly find a scene for each line of this rather short song.

A Sorta Fairytale (with Adrien Brody)

Lovely guy, and lovely music video - just a tad creepy.



Strangely enough, with the right context, the video goes perfectly with the content of the music. It's about a sorta relationship that works out perfectly for one perfect good day, between two absolutely incompatible people who, like arms and legs, don't fit together, but don't exactly not make each other whole either. I think when Adrien Brody's hand stroked Tori Amos's face, I sorta melted.

on my way up north
up on the ventura
i pulled back the hood
and i was talking to you
and i knew then it would be
a life long thing
but i didn't know that we
we could break a silver lining

and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

things you said that day
up on the 101
the girl had come undone
i tried to downplay it
with a bet about us
you said that-
you'd take it
as long as i could
i could not erase it

and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

and i ride along side
and i rode along side
you then
and i rode along side
till you lost me there
in the open road
and i rode along side
till the honey spread
itself so thin
for me to break your bread
for me to take your word
i had to steal it

and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

i could pick back up
whenever i feel

down new mexico way
something about
the open road
i knew that he was
looking for some indian blood and
find a little in you find a little
in me we may be
on this road but
we're just
impostors
in this country you know
so we go along and we said
we'd fake it
feel better with
oliver stone
till i
almost smacked him -
seemed right that night and
i don't know what
takes hold
out there in the
desert cold
these guys think they must
try and just get over on us

and i'm so sad
like a good book
i can't put this
day back
a sorta fairytale
with you
a sorta fairytale
with you

and i was ridin' by
ridin' along side
for a while till you lost me
and i was ridin' by
ridin' along till you lost me
till you lost
me in
the rear
view
you lost me
i said

way up north i took my day
all in all was a pretty nice
day and i put the hood
right back where
you could taste heaven
perfectly
feel out the summer breeze
didn't know when we'd be back
and i, i don't
didn't think
we'd end up like
like this

Anyway, enuwy like this one, so just a bit of eye candy while I was at it. I'm starting to get the kick of blogging videos from YouTube and other places I think.

I just might be able to fall in love with this...

Embroidered Lives: http://embroideredlives.blogspot.com/

Poetry meets music on live streaming radio from Olympia, WA.

With themes. Check out the playlists. My personal favourites so far are March 28th, March 7th and another one January 17th featuring Cesaria Evora, Toni Morrison Jazz read by Vanessa Williams, Maya Angelou and Nina Simone.

Cesaria Evora in London!

Well, sure, I guess it's the 28th of November which is a lifetime away, but still!!! The last time I heard this diva live (a blessed experience) was in San Francisco almost 4 years ago.

Well, here are some likely potential dates and places near me at least:

28/07/07
Malmesbury
Angleterre - UK - Inglaterra

29/07/07
BonnAllemagne - Germany - Deutschland

03/08/07
Vence (06)
France - França - Frankreich

27/08/07
Parabens! Joyeux anniversaire! - Happy birthday Cesaria!

12/10/07
Vilnius
Lithuanie - Lituania

02/11/07
Zagreb
Croatie - Croatia

(a bunch in Spain) then...

17/11/07
Londres (!!!!!)
Angleterre - UK - Inglaterra

Not that I know where Malmesbury is, but Londres is within reach and in the right part of Inglaterra at least!!

"Embarcação" - Kayah and Cesaria Evora

While googling for the elusive (lyrics to Embarcacao, and that translated from the Portuguese), I stumbled upon the music video, which was equally worth mention, I thought.


"Embarcação" - Kayah and Cesaria Evora - kewego

So here it is. Little Fish was blogging recently about unlikely duets. Although not in little fish's genre, Cape Verdean Cesaria Evora (one of my first long time loves) with Polish Kayah makes it for unlikely, I think. And successful as well, Embarcacao is still, to date, one of the steamiest songs I've ever heard. It's intoxicating, and makes one feel like dancing.

If you have the lyrics, in Portuguese or better yet, in English - I could fall in love with you. These lyrics are another kunefe thing for me.

Death and the whole point of living

I had a morbid thought the other day. I wondered, for a brief moment, what it would feel like if I suddenly was diagnosed with stage 3 or 4 cancer and only had a few more months to live. Would I do things any different?

It's been coming upon me that for several health reasons, I really ought to go get my body checked out, even if it's just the supposed annual thing you do with your car for maintenance purposes. But I really, just, don't.

In the first place, kind of like the reluctance one has for seeing the dentist, I've been avoiding visiting a doctor and getting full body check ups for the last I don't know how many years. Not that I don't think that I'm in a good health with minor ailments, but simply because I don't really care to know.

And so the possibility (very slim, however) is present on my morbid thought. And morbidly enough, I think I would have been rather happy about it. Or well, not happy maybe, but at least not sad. I don't think I'd really change anything, to be honest, except maybe quit my job immediately since there isn't really much point of earning a salary I don't get to spend.

But I've always had the impression that terminal people want to suddenly do things that they've never thought of doing. At least that's how the cliche went - they'd travel the world (people who hate going on airplanes), get in touch with people they lost contact with (and barely knew before), start becoming nice to people they were mean to in the past (the Scrooge mentality, I call it) and essentially turn themselves into completely different people than they were before, in the last few months of their lives. It's almost as if they were trying on new clothes when they heard the news that they can no longer wear clothes anymore in x number of months time.

And just what is the reason and logic for that? I love my life as it is right now. I love the clothes that I'm wearing. So much so that if I could no longer wear clothes anymore in a given number of months time, I wouldn't want to wear anything else. And if I didn't like the clothes I was wearing in the first place, why the hell wouldn't I just change them now, instead of waiting for a deadline to come up?

Over the years, I've collected a series of simple but important things to help me enjoy my life better. These are in no ways formulas for how to live a better life, better being rather subjective, but it certainly helped me make the most of the time I have. I guess I'm just telling myself, so I don't forget.

1. Don't put off what you want to do today.
2. If you are contemplating doing something, ask yourself a very simple question "Why the hell not?" If you can think of 3 good reasons, don't do it. If you can't, do.
3. First, do no harm.
4. Regret is something better left for tomorrow than today or yesterday.
5. The only real law is that of gravity. Everything else are mostly theories and sometimes speculations.

And don't trust me on the sunscreen.

Or so the Smashing Pumpkins songs went...

Alternative title: The Beginning is the End is the Beginning; The End is the Beginning is the End

I think the point they were trying to make is that you never really know how to feel when the culmination of a dream actually happens. For real. Ending a dream has that same feeling of an anticlimax as is waking up, even if the dream was sweet, even when the dream was a nightmare.

I hate endings. I hate it when dreams come true.

Very soon, and not soon enough, and not too soon, tu et moi will be in the same country. For the first time permanently in what is almost a year. I recall asking you how you felt about that, and all you told me were practical things, sensible things. Things like fear of being here, anxiety at culture shock, but happiness of finally being in the same g------ country.

I thought about what I felt, which were a whole miasma of strange and unexpected things. Guilt at having my wishes come true for once, fulfilment for having my wishes come true, at least, anxiety for thinking that I may not want what I'm wishing for.

A guest speaker at the All Hands Summit I recently went to was the first woman who had ever climbed Everest from both the North and South sides. She came to give one of those inspirational speeches, and I suppose having mounted the highest mountain in the world sort of gives one that right to give inspirational speeches.

Funny thing was, she started the speech with the statistics of Everest - 75% failure rate, 1% death rate. The meat of the speech was peppered with cliches like "It really is all about team work" and "You cannot do it alone." and "The two things which make climbers fail are over-confidence and giving up. They lose in their minds far before the mountain overcomes them."

Even funnier was how she described the first time she had reached the summit. She said, "My first thought was, 'And that's it?' You climb and climb until you reach a point where there is nowhere else higher to go. It felt anticlimatic." So much for inspirational speeches.

Somehow that statement about the summit sealed it for me. It almost made me feel right about what I thought about trying to reach the seemingly impossible. In the first place, I was cynical. I have absolute disdain for people stupid enough to try to reach places where no sane creature would want to go. Everest being one of them. You could not persuade me up there unless there is a 5 star hotel, a butler in a tuxedo, champagne and beluga caviar and an elevator waiting up there to take me down in style.

It absolutely made me feel the futility of ambition in that one sweeping sentence. Why do people try for higher? Why do we risk life and limb reaching a point whereby there is simply nowhere else to go? In aiming for dizzying heights, we do no different than build ourselves into a corner. The hard way.

I've often been accused of being overly ambitious. People look at me and think that I'm trying absolutely hard to become the best in the field, good at everything, millionaire by 35. And I try to defend myself by saying that it is the journey that matters, not the destination. If I liked climbing mountains, reaching the summit of Everest would be waking up from a very good dream. It would be reaching a point where I thought, "Oh no, there's nowhere else to go, now everything goes downhill from here." Same thing for me with what I do every day at work.

So one of your biggest predictions is that one day I will soon surpass the things you do. We are jogging, you and I, in the middle of a large, pretty park. I run faster (I guess) because I've found my pace, and this is how I like to go. And you tell me to slow down, thinking you won't catch up. I do anyway. And I still have as much fun as I had before when I was going faster. Since anyway, I'm in it for the run, I'm slowing down to take in the scenery, to do something better for my heart. It probably gives me an excuse not to reach the end as quickly anyway, which isn't something I'm looking forward to.

The High Costs of Living Part 2

I feel almost obligated to clarify, just for the record, in case anybody read me wrong, that in "The High Costs of Living", I wasn't in any way implying that Singapore was expensive, and Europe was cheap in comparison.

I've studied economics, and given the simple laws of demand and supply, in any country with international trade, there will be some things that are expensive, and other things that are relatively cheaper than the rest of the world. Purchasing power parities (PPP) and The Economist's Big Mac statistics (as a dear reader alluded to) would show that stripping away the current world currency exchange rates, different countries continue to have different costs and standards of living.

My not very obvious points in my first blog entry are simple, IMHO:

1. We all have different basket of goods. Sure, comparing the costs of Big Macs, cars, houses and brussel sprouts (not necessarily cheaper in Brussels, might I add for effect) will get you somewhere - but ultimately, we should be comparing the costs of our individual basket of goods in deciding where we finally want to live, work and earn our money. For some this may be Singapore (where else can we easily find a plate of char kway teow for under $2) and for others, it may be London (where else can I fly to Greece for under 100 pounds), Munich, or Seattle (yes I want my Victoria's Secret accessories and Bath and Body Works toiletries).
2. My point is that ideally, we are aware of this, and we have a choice in deciding where we want to build our lives. My point is that we should be conscious that our basket of goods are individually different, and that with increasing globalization, it's no longer easy to define, even individually, a basket of goods that any one country would have a competitive advantage in. If I want my cheap European cars, my Bath and Body Works toiletries and also my cheap char kway teow, I'd be hard pressed to bridge the gap by being in any one country. Yes there are tradeoffs, yes there are choices, yes there is a need for prioritization.
3. My final point was one of surprise. Perhaps at my own choices, or the assumptions that I, until that point, subconsciously had. Without imposing a value judgement on anyone, any country, or any opinion, I was surprised to discover that in my cocooned world of choices, it could possibly be more expensive to procure my (self-defined) basket of goods in Singapore than elsewhere. I've always lived with the assumption that things were cheaper in Singapore. Even now, living in the UK, I default to Singapore in stocking up on every day essential items, I bemoan the fact that my rent is expensive, that eating out costs a fortune. But the truth is, I have discovered that some items in my basket of goods are mobile across borders and others are not. In the prioritization of choices, it only makes sense to go where the immobile basket of goods are relatively inexpensive, and the mobile ones relatively accessible. ie. to live cheaply day to day and personally import for personal consumption the Bath and Body Works toiletries on business trips.

At the end of the day, it's all about choices, isn't it? We choose to live dangerously (or otherwise). We choose to have our luxuries or live without them. Where did I get my numbers? They may not be the Singapore official standard of averages, but they are my averages. To be very honest, I've probably had the good fortune of having hung around people who chose to pay more than the official standard of averages in Singapore, but like I said, it's all about your individual basket of goods, not anybody else's. Could one be happy in Singapore without a car (that many people have), in a 3 room HDB flat (that costs about $300k), working 5 and a half day work weeks, with a spouse, two and a half kids and tuition bills? Perhaps. If this is what I wanted from life.

But for now, I'd like to highlight the importance and value of choice over affordability. It is one thing to say, this is what you are given, you can get by, you won't starve. You might even be happy. It's another completely to say that you have consciously purchased, through a real dollar value the option to choose another, perhaps indulgent, way of life.

The importance of choice, is the importance of stepping into things with eyes wide open. Knowing, consciously, whether one is living dangerously or not, and not simply making the assumption (as I was previously) that this is the only way of life that Singaporeans were leading, and everybody's doing it so it must be safe. I know only too many people my age who are committing to living la vida peligroso, without knowing what they are getting themselves into. Just because everyone around them is doing so. Just because that's the way life is in Singapore. Just because we keep up with the Joneses. I guess the way things are in Singapore isn't always culturally favourable to choice.

If you want halfway affordable Peugeots or Volkswagens, villas in the country, vacations to Greece, Morocco and Barcelona, then being in Singapore just isn't going to cut it. That said, I always find it amusing to hear envious tones from the Europeans I meet that I take holidays at random to a sunny beach in Phuket or Bintan. In all seriousness, it's a reminder that we win some, we lose some.

Link: Lunch in a Box

Interesting how the Japanese come up with food that has the most complicated preparation methods, and also all the short cuts to prepare food that still looks as nice.

SS-Biggie's website (linked to Flickr) is amazing. I'm honestly 100% astounded that in this day and age, there is a mother out there preparing lunch boxes every day for her kid, and paying attention to tiny details like decoration (she has bento box dividers organized) and separating takuan pickles from the kamaboko fishcakes because they turn the kamaboko yellow.

I would be blessed if I had someone even make me a lunch box every day, so the idea of a mother making rice balls for a son to take to school in a lunch box speaks of unimaginable depths of maternal virtue that I can only gawk at.

SS Biggie lived in Japan as an expat for nine years and speaks fluent Japanese. Many techniques are picked up from Japanese bento cookbooks (I didn't know they have those!) and some ideas are downright fantastic - spaghetti in cup cake containers for a fast, quick and mess free disposable meal!

Endless summer nights

Summer is a tiring, tiring time. It's mid-May, and already the sun is up until 9 in the evening. It's working hard, rising at close to 5 in the morning. After winter, I'm not sure what is worse, short hours of daylight or long ones. The long hours of daylight has the effect of making one wake early and go to bed late.

You somehow just feel rather silly having dinner when it looks outside to be like 5 in the evening, except that it's closer to 8, and falling asleep when the sun's barely set. I miss the hours of night when it looks as late as it really should be.

I used to like it when I last lived here. I guess somehow as you become older and your body clock gets used to working as it has been for the accumulating number of years it has always worked this way, the body starts becoming less adaptable to things like weather, time zones, travel.

I'm beginning to feel an inevitability of time, when things start to catch up on you, when you start to realize that you may be running but you're only running in circles. It's that sense of deja vu, that "I've seen this corner before" feeling.

Six years ago, it wasn't warm in April or May. Six years ago, you didn't feel ill travelling on the plane, wishing it would be your last. Six years ago, the temperature in the UK, even on the warmest nights, never reached 30 degrees celcius. Six years ago, people spoke about the weather in an Oscar Wildean way, just saying, not doing anything about it. They weren't even talking about doing something about it.

And suddenly, comes 2007, the year where the bets are stacking for a 40 degree summer in a country where air conditioning was never a necessity before. I used to like living here, having migrated here to avoid the pollution, humidity and bad air in Singapore. But I'm beginning to think however, that there's nowhere too far to go now.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Thessaly!!

Thessaly's Magazine Cover
Originally uploaded by metaphoric.

How time passes quickly. As the cliche goes, tempus fugit, time flies.

WIthout a thought, in a blink, a flash, a moment, Thessaly's been in the US for 9 months now, she's turning 2 today, and I've been doing budgets in the same company for 3 years now. If I had stayed on at my old job, my computer would have been up for the 3 year refresh.

Thessaly had the good fortune of being born (we were saying when we went out for dinner 3 days before her birth) the day before my Lori Moore budget scrub review. Every year now, until I find a new job, her birthday will be right smack in the busiest time of my working year.

I remember celebrating her first birthday with much joy and fanfare, making special arrangements to ensure that everything at work was taken care of - and now, it's her second. I'll miss it in person, but saw some pictures taken days before.

Her expressions are more grown up now, and she's definitely bigger. It's amazing to watch a little child grow up, the differences from 1-5 are visible and obvious. It almost feels like the rest of our lives are stretched out in the changes that happen, but in the first ten years, they are crammed chock full from year to year.

The picture I used in the magazine cover was taken when she was 17 months. I've blogged it before - but it was curious to see how when turned into a magazine cover, it fitted so well.

Birthday wishes for the new girl - may everything you want be within your reach. And unlike your aunt, hopefully you don't end up in finance.

TDC Recipe #2: Fish Porridge

Here's an easy one I popped onto the stove after coming back from what is probably one of the most gruelling business trips I've taken. It's a comfort food - and what's even more comforting is how fuss free and fast it is to make, without needing any special ingredients available only from a Chinese supermarket.

Fish Porridge

Ingredients: serves 2
2 blocks Coley fish portions, usually frozen but defrost before use
1/2 cup long grain or Jasmine rice
500ml water
1 tsp chopped ginger
pinch of salt
pepper to taste

(optional) 1 tbsp dried scallops

Method:
Set water to boil with a pinch of salt for taste and to increase the boiling point.
(Shortcut) Pop the rice to a cooker to cook in the meantime while the water boils - boiling cooked rice into porridge saves you half the time it takes from boiling porridge from scratch

At this point, if you have the dried scallops (although I know this is a bonus since it can be only easily obtained from a Chinese supermarket), add them into the water to boil as stock.

Once the rice is cooked, stir the rice into the water and keep boiling. In 10 minutes, you're going to get porridge.

Slice the coley portion block in the meantime. When rice comes to a boil, stir in coley portion and cook well.

5-10 minutes before serving, stir in the teaspoon full of chopped ginger to combat any overwhelming aroma of fish.

Pepper to taste and serve.

Tip: if you've got light soy sauce, stirring in about a teaspoon in the porridge before serving enhances the flavour.

The High Costs of Living

I was chatting in a pub yesterday with a bunch of German colleagues while in Munich, and the topic came up about mortgages. We were gossiping about another colleague of ours who has a large property and expensive living standards (not the vice kind) in Seattle, and it befell one of the guys at the table to remark that they would never love to live as dangerously as that.

That being an interesting comment, I obviously asked what she meant. And she said that in Germany, she could pay off her mortgage without really thinking about it, even if she had lost her job. She felt that it was a dangerous way of living to have a mortgage that was so high to upkeep, that you have to keep on working and be more and more ambitious (ie. aim for compensation increases, promotions etc.) just to support the way you live.

Today again, over lunch, we were chatting about the costs of having a wedding, and I shocked the table with the estimate that it would cost on average around £150-£300 per head, I mean table, [Ed: I think the more discerning readers would have picked this up already] for a wedding dinner in Singapore. And that 120 guests at a wedding was pretty small in Singapore standards, and pretty huge in Europe.

Cultural diversities aside, it did make me think that in comparison to Europe, it is a fallacy in Singapore that prices are low, things are cheap and living is easy. And vice versa in contrast, with the British pound at an approximate 1 to 3 conversion rate, and the Euro at 1 to 2, prices are exhorbitant, costs are prohibitive and you live like plebes in Europe.

I suppose it all boils down to the basket of goods we're talking about here. What do we compare our prices against? A can of Coke? A pint of beer? A glass of wine, or a house, a car, a wedding? It honestly shocked me that one could live, work, and be able to have a mortgage on a place to live that doesn't cost the earth or your whole lifetime to repay.

Let's say the average price of an apartment or HDB flat in Singapore is about $450,000. For a two income household earning averagely $3,000 per month or $36,000 a year, on standard interest rates, it would take about 58 years to repay the mortgage if it is 20% of income, 39 years if it's 30%, 29 at 40% and 23 years if it's 50% of income. No wonder average loan terms are 25 years or so, which implies that most people's housing costs take about half their monthly salaries. And that's not counting the CPF of 20% which goes towards it monthly and contributes to a house.

At those terms that I'm used to, how was it imaginable that one's mortgage could be a mere nothing that one could afford to repay without a thought if one suddenly lost a job? With about half of income paying towards the bricks and windows and roofs over our heads, losing a job is not an option in Singapore.

Sure, the hawker food, clothes, and other superficials are cheaper and more readily available in Singapore. But when it comes down to the basics, the house, the car, the doctor's fees and job security, the costs of living start stacking up higher in Singapore. Perhaps we are surrounded by these things we take for granted each day that they start turning invisible - we assume we'll always have a job (because the government says the unemployment rate is low), we assume we'll always have a place to stay (because HDB flats are subsidized), we take public transport (because tickets are cheaper than in Europe).

But we work 10 hour work days and Saturdays to stay ahead. We stay in, eat out, try to keep healthy. Essentially we try to make up for the basics by filling as much superficials as possible. I guess at the end of the day, the cost of living doesn't depend so much on where you are, but what you value, what your basket of goods are. What you want depend on what you value. Apparently, what you pay for depends on what you value, but I think part of that goes the other way round as well.

I believe we can condition ourselves to think that we must pay high prices for certain things which other cultures have the luxury of taking for granted. We pay high prices to live in that little island we call home - they pay high prices to take holidays to go to that little island we cram high prices on.

Maria Taylor's meandering song beneath a song

Now here are interesting lyrics. The funny thing is, these nearly Lisa Loeb'ish lyrics do actually go well with the backgrounds.

What's so interesting to me is that it's a song about a song, really. Which is, from a poetic perspective at once quite rare and at the same time, completely satisfyingly navel gazing. Which brings me back to the point that I am probably Carol Ann Duffy deprived and should be digging out my books instead of satisfying myself in song lyrics.

Cryptic words meander
Now there is a song beneath the song
One day you'll learn
You'll soon discern its true meaning

An interesting detachment
A listless poem of love sincere
Desire, despair
Overlapping melodies

And it's not a love, it's not a love
It's not a love, it's not a love song
It's not a love, it's not a love, it's not a love song
It's not a love, it's not a love, it's not a love song

Oh now the roots are reminiscing
Recurring dreams of minor chords
Metred time
Muted chimes find the beat

And in the pulse there lies conviction
A steady push and pull routine
The cymbals swell
High notes flail into reach

And it's not a love, it's not a love
It's not a love, it's not a love song
It's not a love, it's not a love, it's not a love song
It's not a love, it's not a love, it's not a love song
It's not a love, it's not a love,
It's not a love, it's not a love song

Lyric Rant: Chasing Cars

Lyric rant again, and this time not about using the same words to rhyme. I'm so over this song, but I can't help but wonder, is Chasing Cars meant to be a love song? If he lay there, if he just lay there... I would kick him off the couch.

(a restless individual)

Bound by Love - Gran Bel Fisher

I guess I'm slowly working through the Grey Anatomy soundtrack. Came across this song, most of the lyrics are mediocre, but one bit stuck -

The motion of emotion
Is the thought I fear
And the whispers of the future now
Keep drawing me near

Just thought that was a bit apt. And that motion of emotion was quite clever, although I heard it as "the notion of emotion" at first, and thought it was quite cute too.

Comment Moderation

Q: Why moderate comments, asks a reader of the blog (gosh! I have those!! wow...)

A: Because previously when I didn't, I got all sorts of spam solicitations, ranging from sex and love to hair treatment (I kid you not).

Now that I've posted this, without comment moderation keeping non-organic spam at bay, I'm probably prone to getting some more.

But that said, I've been tired and lazy recently of moderating comments myself. It involves going through each and every one of them, reading them through without knowing what the context of the comment was, and clicking to publish them all. I've not failed to publish a comment since last year (I kid you not again). And to be honest, it kind of takes the fun out of reading them on the blog itself.

So I've taken away comment moderation today (are you happy now?). Blogger however does require you to be a registered user to post a comment, and I'm not sure everyone's registered (thus making comments less than flowing).

There is an account you can use to post comments on this blog, if you like. If you'd like to know what that account is which you can use, drop me an email and I'll let you know. Nothing to it, just helps to ensure that you know who I am at least.

Still Life (or being sick of growing things)

I'm sick of growing things, especially if they are green. Plants are beautiful and all that, and the thought of having life growing merrily under your fingers in the form of newly sprouted green leaves is over-rated. Newly sprouting green leaves come with a very sort of different growing thing - Sap-drinking, parasitic, small, white, ubiquitous ants.

Insects freak me out. They just do. I'm sure that they have their right to live in some part of the universe, but just as long as it's not mine. Not in my house, not on my windowsill, not anywhere near white, clean and spick-and-span, thank you very much!

I just threw out a whole thriving colony of these things + 3 plants along with them today. As of now, though they do brighten the house, I really don't think I can deal with living things that aren't furry and don't move. Somehow, the idea of carbon based life forms that don't eat, breathe and walk like I do just freak me out. I don't know how to make them reproduce (at least not in the same way that I do), I don't know how to feed them (when they don't appear to be visibly "eating" anything), I don't know how to water them or keep them alive. Their anatomy elude me.

I usually pride myself in being quite good at keeping things alive and healthy as long as I know their anatomies. I know how dogs and cats and mice, rabbits and hamsters look like. I know how they work. And yet, these most simple of life forms, these things called plants, who apparently operate on a very simple basis - water through roots through stems to leaves, reproduction through seeds or grafts - just can't seem to stay alive. They are like ornamental, there but not there life forms, slowly dying day by day as leaves shrivel, get infected by parasitic ants, apparently not capable of feeling pain or responding to sound or fury. They are still life, but life still. I just can't get my head around these things.

So, although feeling slightly bad that they might still be alive (I cannot recognize the point of no return for a plant that appears to be there, absorb water, apparently alive but without new leaves, sprouts or anything), I threw out the lavender, japonica and pansies.

The only thing that appears resolutely blooming and doing well is my now-beloved jewel orchid, which is doing very well, growing long, lean and tall, with lovely tiny white blooms. Curiously enough, this was the only plant I didn't want in the beginning. Murphy's law, isn't it?