It don't matter if you're black or white wrong or right

Because where I'm at, it seems being professional takes a back seat to the whims of those who just want to while away their working hours and not have their lowly, comfortable laurels disturbed by someone who, being of a completely different make, wishes to bring some semblance of actual corporate codes of conduct to the workplace. To hell with how you FEEL about the damn thing, so long as I'm not a hair's breadth off the letter of the law, you don't have the slightest right to lay a figurative finger on me.

A Monday's victory, won by virtue of realities - some time even the most stubborn object faces an interminable force stronger than itself, and I'm sad to say, I plan to bring more of that. Do ask me about what exactly was said to me in an email I was meant to read and be threatened by, but indubitably left me with the distinct feeling that I was working in the midst of infants. Quite unbelievable, but I'm growing immune to the juvenile, imbecilic rubbish thrown in my general direction.

Too many unconnected (and similary provoked) thoughts

Time to do another Facebook Meme. Seriously.

I have a battle over Tuesday that isn't mine.

World, bring your best this week; I've got a weekend's rejuvenation behind me and another coming up, and nothing's gonna knock me down!

Mad World

So just how long was I at work today that I return home from work to find out that Michael Jackson has died? I mean, that is some news. Music just lost it's biggest selling recording artiste of all time.

I had a number of interesting conversations today that made it a relatively passable friday, even after taking into consideration staying till 630 to help dear boss finish some inventory work. I had my first cup of tea with the boss this whole week, because it's been work from the get-go every morning, and this time it was without the peskiness of the colleagues, so we actually got to chat about significant things. And as luck would have it, she raised the topic about my conversation with exhibit A yesterday which she overheard, and I didn't have to find some opening to tell her about it. Useful information, but with some useless advice which I could not pursue because the topic changed quickly after that. Then came lunch, or more precisely my post-lunch cup of tea, where the second left came by to ask me about things regarding him, but as luck would have it, he too raised the topic about exhibit A, which I was then able to repeat my whole story. This time I got some non-committal response about doing something about it, which added to the alternatives the boss suggested, makes things slightly easier for me since I have their words and tools. Nevertheless, I have Tuesday to deal with, which I plan to deal with deftly given that, as mentioned, the law is, as always, on my side. And finally, while relating the case of H1N1 in the office adjacent to mine and what has been done about it so far, Daryl and I conjectured that the use of tape as some form of protective barrier is reminiscent of the Passover, albeit without the slain goat and blood-stained door posts.

To end my series of rants about those whom I have to technically and generously call my colleagues, today I raise that all-too-often unconscious question that pops into my head, and I ask whether you, dear reader, think it as frequently as I do:

"What in the name of #!<$@# were you thinking you stupid cow?!"

The end.

New Heights of Bastardy/Roles Played/Generally, rather blah

I think that exhibit person A truly hasn't anyone quite like me. I've been nothing but professional, which is more than can be said of (insert an insanely high percentage) everyone else there. He has thus decided to bend the book by which he has been used to as a weapon. But little does he know it is also a shield of similar proportion, one I plan to invoke as and when necessary and play down as befits my optimum circumstance. This two-way tango that shall very soon reach its climax I'm sure.

Like I tell my parents, I'm not myself for 10 hours each weekday while at work. But while I'm being someone else, it is a consistent persona - unwaveringly by-the-rules, an equal and an indispensable. The same cannot be said about others. I point to 2 instances, leaving exhibit A out of this because, as hard as he tries, there is this strange end-result of portraying juvenility. Funny, if it wasn't sad. The random second left, as Daryl and I speak of, is actually a pretty decent being, but was once moved to prove his second left-ness by asking me where my face-pass was when it was not ready yet. That was in front of his colleague. Trying to impress perhaps? I think not. Same goes for the boss, who in front of exhibit A repeated in a senior tone something I'd been told a few times before by them both already. Not wanting to appear soft I assume, but also epically unsuccessful. In the end it's a question of why, seriously. If you weren't going anywhere to begin with this isn't gonna make the stagnation any easier to handle. There are others of course, like those who seem to think they invented sarcasm and use it to such impotent effects that it's laughable; generally though, these antics are not worth my recounting at all.

A weekday's rare second post

Well, as we've established, it is a Wednesday after all, and I have the luxury of time, so here it is. This morning's Straits Time Life review of Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen gave it HALF a star out of 5. This could possibly have a reverse psychological effect: viewers might want to see for themselves just how bad it is. I for one have to side with the review; it was not a good show. So not good in fact that even when I received a call (kindly ignore the inappropriate theatre etiquette) at what was supposed to be a plot-revealing section involving some serious dialogue, I did not find myself less able to appreciate the special effects of the movie. And that was all the movie was - a large container of special effects costing as much as a mid-sized 3rd world country's annual gdp, devoid of proper acting, character development, story line or climax and resolution. At any rate, since I did miss out a good minute or so of the show while on the phone, I potentially have a reason to watch it again if someone does ask me to, because if I hadn't missed anything I'd be hard pressed to think of why I would want to shell out for another ticket.

On a separate note, I sent a text message to my boss's boss yesterday which was decidedly longer than most and contained the terms "nuance" and "righteous discontent"; I shall refrain from elaborating about the (sadly) expected response it garnered. Oh, and in this same world, apparently the alternative to running is to walk fast; I guess I'll take what I can, whatever verbal insurance I can strangle out of them.

By Logical Extension

If one is not hindered by quotas on medical leave, then one does not have an obligation to limit onself. Perhaps even more so in the circumstances surrounding conscription. Whatever the case may be, Wednesdays are now my de facto favourite weekday because of the pleasant precedent of leisure. And because summer is upon us, and having had a cup of tea and a plate of noodles while glancing over the Monocle in the morning, there is an afternoon begging the question: Transformers?

Allow me, in the new capacity of YAM Worship Comm member, draw your attention to YES:

This will be after what I envision to be a bothersome morning at the Discovery Centre; please, prove me wrong.

Why didn't I think of that?

While reading the YAM plan for 2010-2012 which Daryl sent to us, I found myself captivated by the level of detail (eg. CGs will "auto graduate" after 7 years; I mean, wow, detail) in the document. Under normal circumstances you would find me making a comment somewhere along the lines of a Dengist 4-year plan or something, but this time I must admit that it is rather exciting.

Those few minutes reading were the highlight of a dreary period in work where I must recently come drawn some conclusions after more than 4 months working here. It is indeed surprising that I did not arrive at these sooner, seeing as my judgment of character is, in my completely and utterly prejudiced opinion, rather flawless. I am glad my dispensability as an asset to the office is decreasing by the minute. The 2 of us original kids who came in from the jan enhanced batch have got to be the most valuable people in the entire place, apart from our respective bosses. And I now know this is recognized, which grants me some professional leverage. And if there is jealousy involved by some who seem to think that just because they've been there for a long time they are entitled to that, all the better. Such people, for all the show of being personally offended if someone missteps the slightest, are the most hypocritical slackers around, and I have made it my unexpressed goal to make sure people realise this. I've also realised that I need not bother explaining myself to such (insertyourownprefix)bags even in the least, as I should not have while leaving work today; their questions are not worth the breath of cigarette-tainted air it takes to be uttered.

Of Occurrences, Passion (or interest) and Perception (?)

1. While taking the MRT to church on Thursday, I happened to hear in between tracks on my iPod a conversation behind me between 2 HC students which included the terms 'spar' and 'swing team'; how long it has been since I've been part of that world. (@chups: we need to get our double-team-coach-thingum together to get some moolah!) And the taxi I took back home from frisbee this evening was driven by a man listening to Enya. Go figure.

2. In front of me lies Aravind Adiga's "Between the Assassinations", his second novel after his debut Man Booker Prize 2008 winner. The irony of the level of (insert noun) required for its appreciation and the place in which I spend 10 hours of my day does not escape me. Sad really. My scholarship officer may be surprised to find me studying Lit either here or overseas, instead of Pol Sci like a good government worker should.

3. I oscillate between seizures of intolerable burdensome-ness and clarity in knowing it will pass; after all, the plan now, as it has been ever since the turn of events that took place in January, is to spend my time most extensively at my own choosing; I am reminded partly because of my friends who shall, come tomorrow, be entering that route I left to the wind (to Guo Nian, Jake, Ted Kin, Jin, and Elliot too - all the best!)

Change of weather; still together when it ends/That may be all I need

The joy of sleeping in one's own bed is not lost on those who find themselves dislocated by circumstances beyond their control. I live for the big things, those that shake up one's world and circumstances, lofty abstractions that inspire art and thought that has resounding implications and consequences for knowledge, awareness, life and existence; pursuit, ambition, freedom, simplicity, contentment; moderation, indiscrimination and immersion. And perhaps, the things of love. The small thing of more than 24 hours away from home makes all that seem not worthy of my attention. It is unthinkably nauseating. It's been a weekend that has been so reflective of the free spirit that makes that which is at its end's doorstep unbearable, suffocating.

If I could have a week, it'd be like this...

A Monday evening spent being rejuvenated after a wonderful weekend, sleeping straight after work till the next morning.

A Tuesday with close debate friends at Holland, chatting and taking photos over dinner, dessert and drinks.

A Wednesday of quality time with the parents discussing oh-so-important things.

A Thursday at YAM Comm meeting, encountering Him with like-minded friends.

A Friday with the classmates, over a bbq dinner, mahjong, crosswords and guitar hero.

And not to mention the weekend, which is an extrapolation of my weekdays, just with time slightly extended. This is how I envisioned life over these fateful months being like. Next week, however, will be different, but anomalously so I do so hope; if anything, after the first two days I think I might just call it quits and excuse myself from the demands of work, at least for a full day.

What church camp means to me

It might be that the past tense of the verb in the title of this post would have been grammatically appropriate, but just think - exactly 7 days ago I was bundled up in a coach, sitting next to a pastor, mind so far away from the work and uneasiness that was both my 2-day work ween and almost 6 months of army, captured very briefly in my previous post typed lazily on a netbook in the middle of the lobby of any given resort in desaru, minutes before meeting up with 23 other church friends who have always been around, but many never in my personal circle, on any given wednesday on any given week in june, 2009.

June 2009. The 17th. A few days more and half this year is over. The last thing I want is for 2009 to be remembered as being that lackluster year sandwiched in between good years before and after. Never. And yet, it is potentially, dangerously so. I think I was never happier this year than in those 4 days at church camp.

This is for so many reasons, I can only just begin to recount. I couldn't have been given a better room. One side of my open balcony faced the open grass field where we would spend 2 sunny afternoons playing hours and hours of frisbee, and the other faced the beach and open sea, where on the first morning there I would get up at 6 and run it's length. It is no Marriot Vacation Club, and it may have poisoned 150 of us with it's curious barberque during the last dinner, but it is charming in a way that allowed enough personal space even for the 450 of us from BMC in attendance. Perhaps it was having extended periods of QT even before the day fully began, seeing the sun rise in a straight line on the horizon, awaiting breakfast and worship. Or that my discussion group, while awkward for me in that I was the only one either not fully gainfully employed or a parent, was so thought-provoking. The 4 speaker sessions were brilliant, and so was the surprise opportunity to serve at the keyboard during communion on the last day. As was praying with the YAM comm, and attending their meeting tomorrow evening after agreeing during frisbee on sunday. And being in the company of so many familiar faces, interacting so much more that I've done before, as well as getting to know some really cool new friends, or simply getting to talk to a close friend about things that really mattered amidst the hand-clapping to performances.

So yes, I can honestly say I had not felt as happy as I did during those days in church camp. But what a difference a week makes. Already this reality of how these 6 months have been and are being spent casts such a heavy shadow over those to come. I wish to share just a little I learnt up there, which in my circumstances of human existence, are startlingly timely. I won't be specific, because I won't ever be able to until the appropriate time.

My deepest fear - dread, at the thought of...

My highest hope - dream, one that began as a child and now a remote possibility as a teen...

My deepest shame - desire, because I want to know the purity of love, but...

Tomorrow it may change. Soon some will change. Eventually, most will change. Questioningly, all may change. For now, I want to put what I've learnt into action, all for the experience of life on earth.

Thoughts in Truly Asia, 10 June 2009, Day #1

Unbeknownst to many, I have retreated to Truly Asia. The last camp I attended was way back in 2005, which was an amazing time with the other 4 musketeers. Now, it's just me, one-fifth of us, represent. When exactly did I become one of the older ones? That's what I thought out loud to some of the others here, many whom I've either worked with in some committee or ministry capacity, or gathered in the same cell group, or some other church event or other. Those were all in the younger, heady days when life afforded me the time, energy and company to do all those things. Now, the former two not so much, but the latter I still cherish; I'm thankful for how easily it's been to just use some reference point in some recent or distant past as a springboard to a new conversation with so much familiarity. The view from my balcony is good, and I am thinking of putting on those trainers that I've long abandoned since the 2.4km runs of yesteryear and jogging along this stretch of beach which, for all intents and purposes, looks very much like it will be mine early tomorrow morning. Wonder if I'll find company for this.

Give me some regularity for me to turn it into extraordinary

1. Only recently have I been pondering the date of my birth, in terms of how early or late in the year, and I have concluded that it is, for me, optimum. Being born in the first half of the year means that, while I may not be the youngest soul around in my year, I am still some way into my batch, and 1990 already means I've got time on my side where most things are concerned. Also, it is early enough when it matters, like turning 18 last year when the real regular visits to watering holes began, and I was entirely legal, as I will be again when I turn 21.

2. There once was a boy who entered his second real employment seeking the idealism of professionalism. He laboured hard to project this perfect image which everyone who mattered took notice of, even the man whom everyone didn't want to have to deal with. This boy didn't care, because he had earned a position as respected colleague. There came a circumstance that was not meant to be an issue or matter of much complexity or conflict. The man, however, seemed not to realize that this boy was in the right not just subjectively but by every definition of the word. This boy thus caucused with his parents and, after Commitment, made plans and alliances that were not like a wall that collapses suddenly, in an instant; it rattled the man, and should make this boy's eventual aim that much easier to obtain, which really should have been no problem in the first place if not for this immovable, obstinate object in his way. This boy would also like to mention that the man is juvenile, even pretending not to be there so as to ignore a perfectly legitimate phone call.

3. I have long spoken of backups when it comes to education, and I now have 2. The first is the local option under my scholarship agency's sponsorship. The second is the overseas option, without having to go through any other application process, in the UK, where there is a confirmed place in October 2010 waiting. I tried the same appeal technique with Oxford, with no luck, expectedly; I'm thinking of doing the same with the other 7 Unis, but it might be a little late considering it is, gasp, already June.

4. This last point was meant to be the confessions post; I'm not sure that I've got the exact words in my head just yet, so watch this space. Point #2 was a little preview, but barely.

Damn those sweet memores/How do you sleep?

This was meant to be titled something along the lines of "Confessions of a *insert appropriate adjective* heart", but it isn't; there are other things to speak of.

I refer you, dear reader to this post. I think I no longer need to rehash my thoughts in great detail; instead, I shall simply point to two things which I had expected, one with a little more reason to than the other, which, now not being, have made being deliciously exciting and terrifyingly unfathomable. The first is my opportunity to study this year via an oms scholarship; this is the one with less reason because not getting the score I had worked with all that I was for, I knew it was, with the rest of my efforts, a lofty height that I had been working towards with almost all of my school days. The second is ocs, which I've devoted numerous posts to on this blog. This one has more basis because, with a little bit of physical effort, everything else was already in place; it's truly a medical incompatibility that left me hanging. Funny how two 3-lettered acronyms separated by just one little alphabet conjure up such similar thought patterns in our local context where this demographic (I shall leave the preceding adjective to your imagination, but there is very little guess work needed) is concerned.

And now for the ritual of numbered points, this time truly a random assortment:

1. I shall highlight 3 purchases I've made recently: a) a truly obnoxiously large dessert prata at Simpang on Sunday which, while being able to feed 6, cost me only $7, b) a simple bowl of fishball noodle which reminded me of the joy of how it is the most humble foods (fishball noodle and chicken rice come to mind) that are the lowest common denominator, and c) an ostentatious bottle of Evian Swiss Mineral Water which was produced on the date of my first IB paper and expires on the day I officially ord.

2. The Circle Line that now gets me to Bishan in 4 minutes is quite intriguing because of just how large the whole project is. I find myself oddly fascinated by these new additions to familiar landscapes, particularly my home vicinity and town (have you seen just how different it is now, sheesh).