Dollhouse

I love sci-fi / philosophy crossovers. Perhaps that's why Dollhouse appeals to me. It's one of those shows that at first appears to be some hot chick exploitation show ( but seriously, Eliza Dushku?) but under the hot girl action, serious issues of personality and being comes into play.

When it all boils down, who are we? Man is more than the sum of his parts, people say. The theme of identity is widespread throughout this series.

A quick synopsis : in the near future, man has learnt to (forcibly) seperate the mind and the body of a person, enabling a person to be stored remotely as an "imprint", and the body to be used as a "doll", albeit in a blank and simple (vegetative) state, a condition known as "tabula rasa", Latin for blank slate. Apt, as these few who undergo this treatment can now be "imprinted" with designer programming, and are rented as high class... Tools. Tools for those with the wealth or power to afford them.

And so, in a clean way that Plato and Descartes can only dream about, the mind and the body are seperated. However, what is it that defines the individual?

We see the characters approach this in multiple ways. Through each way we see a differet perspective on the issue.

We have the agent who is looking for a girl associated with the dollhouse, and identifies her by her appearance. Echo (Eliza Dushku) obviously doesn't agree. She had been imprinted with the imprint of another, so she doesn't believe a word of what the agent says. To the extent that even if she was tortured, she would deny any knowledge, for in her experience, there is no other reality!

We have the son who recognizes his mother, even after she was imprinted onto Echo's body. (She was attending her own funeral, long story.) Is the individual identified by it's behaviour and habits? That's easily disproven. Habits can be learnt and behaviour conditioned. The son could as easily be taken in by a well trained trickster.

Of course, there are those who argue that it is our unique memory and experiences that create an individual. But doesn't the shows premise immediately contradict that? The dollhouse designs dolls with unique skills and habits that are derived from imprints of other peoples' imprints. Using a mix and match approach, each doll could be part Mary, part Jane, part Helen. But which part is uniquely her?

By extension, all of us are mix and match mélanges of each others' personality. How do we know our shared memories are true? By implanting false memories, are we rebuilding ourselves from a far deeper level?

Which part of me says I'm me?

Now, one interesting development pops in, where the dolls evolve and experience some form of self awareness. They remember bits and pieces of their past, and better yet! They remember parts of everyone else they've been! Akin to the bleeding effect in Assassins Creed, they take on the skills and memories of their multiple personalities.

So now, the question is: Is Caroline, who Echo once was, still Caroline now, with fragments of memories of multiple imprints on her?

Debate on that if you will.

Next question: Are you the same you you were yesterday?

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One more for the road

Well, so anyway, over the weekend I bought yet another guitar. I know, I've only got one pair of hands, why do I need another guitar? I guess it's my secret obsession. It's been a hobby I've been keeping for a while, and the longer I keep it, the more it matures like a good red wine, my understanding and appreciation of it going deeper. I listen to the same songs, and I derive deeper and deeper understanding and satisfaction from them. I get the thrill when I start to be able to play licks I could never have even begun to imagine to play years ago. I listen and I understand the subtle interplays of tone and volume. And most of all I grow as a musician (albeit a weak one).

In a way, I'd always been obsessed with music. I guess it kind of shows when the last 15-20 passwords i've had were all songnames or lyrics. Don't try to guess, I've probably forgotten more songs than most people actually know.

My brother told me about a friend he was talking to at a party the other day. She told him that she always remembers exactly what she's eating at the most significant times of her life. For me it's music. I remember the times of my life by the music I've been listening to. My secondary school life passed by with pop in sec 1 and 2, punk rock in sec 3, and ska punk in sec 4. JC swivelled by with more punk and leanings into old school rock, detouring into Sinatra towards the tail end. Army life was all that jazz for me, with Lady Ella stepping into my ears. I still recall Sinatra's "Love's been good to me" playing in my mind on those lonely days on the shore of Sungei Batu Apoi. Army was also my transition into retro pop, exemplified by the hedonism of mambo. Good times. University brought more depth with further forays into old school rock, and a new insight into metal. I spent life in Edinburgh listening to straight up rock and roll, and 90s rock. And now, I've been infected with the blues. It's been a good run. The blues are so gonna stick with me a while. I might just be able to play some of them blues, pop by and ask me to try.

Come on, I dare you. ;)

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Scare Tactics?

Personally, I don't quite see what the fuss is about regarding the new HPB anti-smoking ads.

Apparently they're using images of what happened to young women after long periods of smoking, eg yellow teeth, bad skin etc.

Some have lambasted it as a form of scare tactics, which representatives from HPB vehemently deny.

I think to myself, bemusedly, why bother to deny it?there's a reason why scare tactics are so common. They work! It's not as if there isn't any hard truth behind it. I'd like to think of it as aggressive education. I'd never really been partial to smokers, and seeing young women smoking have always set me on edge. (most of you should know what I'm talking about).

So kudos to HPB. Strike where it hurts.

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600km in 2 days

After an embarassing fiasco with my dad, I eventually had to sell my tickets to the Mr Big concert to a friend of a friend. Thank god there was an available buyer, and I didn't incur too much of a loss. It didn't help that a certain xialan Jah went to catch them in Bangkok for half the price I paid, and was taunting me with vivid descriptions of the performance. Aaargh they played smoke on the water! But anyway I digress.

So on Friday night, after 3 liters of beer made their way in (and out of) my mouth, I somehow managed to make my way home to crawl into bed with a massive death wish, only to wake up at 4 with an even larger hangover. I haven't felt this bad since I kicked that cuts little puppy. Well, I didn't really kick a cute puppy, but that's how bad I felt. It didn't help that I had to pack a suit and stuff for 2 days worth of weddings in one and a half hours, and somehow manage to get myself washed up in the process. Miraculously I managed to get the deed done, even stealing some time to lie groaning on my bed, between trips to the toilet clearing the stomach reflux, remnants of last nights excesses. By the time Jimmy pulled up, the only reminder I had of my massive binge was a splitting headache and the stale taste of bile behind my teeth. I felt like an involuntary bulimic.

I guess after 7 years of drinking, I finally figured out how to deal with the post-partum puking: starve it. I don't think anything went into my stomach until late in the afternoon. On the bright side, nothing came out either! Besides some ghost retching, the ride up was relatively uneventful. Maybe it was because I was in no position to say or do anything besides moan and whimper. But again I digress.

We arrived at KL, or rather, near KL. Apparently we were to be housed at Sunway Lagoon, which was a queer coincidence for it came across one of my conversations I had at work the week before. I didn't expect to be seeing that place again so soon, considering that the last time I was there was probably more than ten years ago. I could hardly recognize the place! It looked so completely different. We dropped by the bridal salon before we checked in, to dress up the car. something simple, but hardy. After all, it had to survive a 300km drive down the next day. I met the bride, for the second time in my life. She looked normal then. That would change soon.

So after checking in, I went with Jimmy to wander around the attached shopping centre, which was massive, with a skating rink right in the middle of one of the foyers. Now why don't we ever so something like that? It was rather popular, with skaters of all ages and skill. I barely managed to finish a mac meal ( that's how bad I felt) before crawling back to the room to pass out for the rest of the day. Now I haven't stayed in a hotel in a while and I might be biased. But this felt like heaven. If ever any of you really feel tired, book a hotel room, and just spend the entire day sleeping in it. Guaranteed to make you feel better.

That night was the first wedding dinner, and the brides family was out in full force. They practically took up the entire restaurant, rambling on boisterously. Dinner was great, I haven't had a traditional 7 course dinner in a while. I'm not sure about the number of courses, but still it was good. The entrance of the newly wedded couple was astounding. I swear I had never seen either of them look so good before in my life. The rest of the night went on like a standard Chinese wedding dinner. The cake cutting, the champagne popping, the interlocked armed champagne drinking, the toast, the tabled toasts... Which usually results in a very drunk looking groom, and Zongxun was no exception. But it's all in good fun. The dinner was peppered with bouts of karaoke, and to my surprise, I actually knew most of the songs they were singing! Normally it's nothing special for me to recognize songs, but this time they were all Chinese. Gives me some motivation to learn some Chinese ballads though. We eventually got back to the hotel at 11, just to knock out again in preparation for the next day.

So the next morning, we got up at 6, because the overly anxious groom wanted to get us ready early. Considering we were expected at the brides house at 9, and it was 20 minutes away, I would think that his jitters were getting a little too much control over him. So we had breakfast, at the hotel buffet. Again, I haven't had a hotel buffet in ages, and it tasted completely awesome. The only reason I didn't make a pig of myself was because I didn't want to burst out of my suit. Wait, did I mention my suit? Apparently, when Zongxun asked me to be the best man, he wasn't kidding. What else could I do? SUIT UP!

So we left for the brides house, the groom and his small entourage of 6. We got there in 3 cars, horning and yelling and generally making a royal nuisance of ourselves. When we got there I was shocked. The bride was rolling about 97655738 deep in homies. I might be exagerrating, but I swear there were at least 40 people waiting for us in the house.

Upon seeing us outside, the bridesmaids weren't going to let us in without a fight. Their terms? Either we play a game with them, or fork out 9999 bucks. I'm fairly sure we could afford the latter, but it's so much more fun to do the former. The first challenge? A song from the groom professing love for the bride. And this crappy groom couldn't remember lyrics for nuts, so that's where I came in. After a couple of verses of "Words", they were satisfied, if not swooning. Next up, the groom had to identify the lipstick mark of his bride amongst a myriad of smooches. If he got it wrong, one of his entourage would have to add his own mark (with lipstick generously supplied by the bridesmaids) to another sheet. And he had to get it wrong 3 times, dooming his brother, Jimmy and myself to don lipstick. The third challenges was to survive 4 tastes, sweet, sour, bitter and spicy. Hold on, I just realized it shouldn't be spicy, but rather salty. But we got spicy anyway. Concentrated sugar solution, fresh lemon juice, bittergourd juice, and wasabe hidden in rice cakes. I almost didn't make it past the wasabe... But I did. After that the girls relented and let us in. As we approached the brides room, we were stopped at the door, a final challenge. Zongxun had to read aloud and sign a finely worded contract, professing his eternal love and devotion to his new wife. And not just in english, but in Cantonese too! Hilarious. After he signed it,( with a pen, though I maintain they should have made him sign it in blood) they let him in. The bride was radiant, they looked so happy together. After sharing a kiss, they went down to offer tea to their elders. Now, that took a while. I realized why the bride had so many people at her place, her family was huge. The two of them spent almost half an hour offering tea to what seemed like an endless chain of uncles and aunties, of course after their parents.

What followed next was probably one of the most bizarre things I have ever witnessed. We all got into the cars, and as a procession drove down to JB. That's a 300km drive from the brides home to the grooms home. Now, that's definitely a long way to go to steal a bride. We even stopped halfway at one of the rest stops, as per normal for any long trip. I did feel a little odd stopping there in a suit though.

We eventually got down, did a far shorter tea session with the grooms side, then proceeded for a second wedding dinner. Talk about excess, I think I had way too much to eat. But all for a good cause I guess.

So i kind of missed Mr Big, but I guess I couldn't have missed this without a clear conscience. Well, more weddings to come.

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At your fingertips

I have been touched by the mobile revolution.

I wonder how had I lived without an iPhone before. This sense of power from having the world at your fingertips, this complete sense of instant connection and ability... Aaah this is good stuff. There is no longer such a thing as downtime. Any moment, you are enabled, you are empowered. I read the news on the train in the morning, I'm blogging on the train on the way back in the evening. I no longer need to check my mails the moment I get back, I can get them on my phone!

If I need directions? Google maps at a touch. Food reviews? Also at a touch. Feel like checking something online? Again, at a touch. This is no simple tool, it's a lifestyle revolution. Bloody amazing.

My only gripe so far is the dismal battery life, it probably would last a day at my kind of usage, although I'm too paranoid to let my battery level drop below 30%. Which leads to me carrying the charger about almost everywhere. But it's not an issue, it's just a frigging USB cable! (and a really slim and sexy plug head. Talk about small form factor.)

The apps are amazing, now all I need is some real good guitar based apps... If I could bother to pay for it. :p

Now, more time for Lucille, Rosie and Betty. I'm done with this and I'm not even home yet! :)

Musings on a wednesday morning

Driving across the city centre on the way to work, I was struck by how majestic it looked. I hadn't had much opportunity to ooh and aah at the Singapore skyline before, but it's a wonderful view, especially at 6am in the morning. The half lit towers, showing signs of life in the wee hours. Tourists and business visitors from halfway around the world struggling to adapt to the time zone, evidenced by the amber night lights glaring through the silky curtains. Eruptions of steel and concrete along the bayline, proud erect monuments to future achievements, standing haughty, cranes held high in the air, looking down on the traffic passing by.

This is what progress should look like.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone (and how in the world did I live without one before?)

I learned how to carry on.

D'abord, j'ai eu peur,
Et puis je me suis habituée
Comment pourrais-je vivre encore sans toi à mes cotés ?
Depuis j'ai passé tant de nuits à me dire que t'avais tort à t'en vouloir
Et puis je me suis habituée
Et tu reviens, si sûr de toi
Avec ce regard qui se teint et des mots stupides et tristes
J'aurais dû changer la serrure ou juste reprendre la clé
Si j'avais pu imaginer que tu reviendrais me troubler
sors de ma vie
ne reviens plus
Car désormais tu le sais tu n'est plus le bienvenu
J'ai trop pleuré j'ai envie de vivre aujourd'hui de t'oublier
Et tant que je serai aimée
je survivrai
je survivrai
J'ai tellement sur terre de choses à faire que je préfère te dire
N'essaie pas de m'attendrir
Non n'essaie pas de revenir
je survivrai
je survivrai
Sans toi
Et ne cherche pas à tout prix à te justifier
Ni à recoller les morceaux, tu n'y arriverais pas
Je me suis souvent sentie seule et je suis une autre déjà
J'ai bien changé tu ne me reconnaîtrais pas
je ne suis plus comme autrefois
Je ne suis plus la fille autant amoureuse de toi
Tu crois sans doute qu'un seul soupir suffit pour que tu me reprenne
Mais je garde mon amour aujourd'hui pour celui qui m'aime
Sors de ma vie
ne reviens plus
Car désormais tu le sais tu n'est plus le bienvenu
J'ai trop pleuré j'ai envie de rire aujourd'hui de t'oublier
Et tant que je serai aimée
je survivrai
je survivrai
J'ai tellement sur terre de choses à faire que je préfère te dire
N'essaie pas de m'attendrir
Non n'essaie pas de revenir
je survivrai
I will survive
sors de ma vie
ne reviens plus
Car désormais tu le sais tu n'est plus le bienvenu
J'ai trop pleuré j'ai envie de rire aujourd'hui
de t'oublier
Et tant que je serai aimée
je survivrai
Sans toi

Sunday bloody sundays.

Well I woke up Sunday morning,
With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled through my closet for my clothes,
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I'd smoked my brain the night before,
On cigarettes and songs I'd been pickin'.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid,
Cussin' at a can that he was kicking.
Then I crossed the empty street,
'n caught the Sunday smell of someone fryin' chicken.
And it took me back to somethin',
That I'd lost somehow, somewhere along the way.

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.

In the park I saw a daddy,
With a laughin' little girl who he was swingin'.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school,
And listened to the song they were singin'.
Then I headed back for home,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin'.
And it echoed through the canyons,
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On the Sunday morning sidewalk,
Wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
'Cos there's something in a Sunday,
Makes a body feel alone.
And there's nothin' short of dyin',
Half as lonesome as the sound,
On the sleepin' city sidewalks:
Sunday mornin' comin' down.

Insomnia. (Redux)

I wax lyrical the moment I can't get enough sleep. I guess it's the only time I find to unburden my thoughts, when the day is done and the night is silent around me, settling in a comfortable blanket of solitude.

I ran my IPPT earlier today, surprisingly coming in with a better than expected result. Perhaps the work of some higher being, but I'd like to think I worked my ass off for it. There we go, no more RT... for now.

Recently i've ran into a close encounter with some existential angst, following the departure of a few wonderful Honky friends whom I had met in Edinburgh. Their coming heralded a new age of fun and laughter, joy and friendship. And a side of me that I hadn't seen for almost 2 months. I didn't do that much. Just played myself as a good host and brought them around to my favourite places, ate my favourite foods, talked as much (or as little) as I knew about Singapore's history.

But I don't know why. I have never felt this carefree and footloose for a long long time. It's almost as if since I touched down in my homeland, the weight and cares of my life has resettled around me like a leaden cloak, dragging my shoulders down, keeping my head firmly set on putting one foot in front of another in unerring rhythm.

Don't get me wrong, I love my job. I like the people, I enjoy the job. But something is missing. I'm not sure if it's the people I had with me on exchange that triggered this metamorphosis of boring serious Luke into fun and playful Luke (yes, even I can tell when I'm boring), or it's the situation of where I'm working.

I liked it when I was more fun. I thought I was more interesting then.

It might just be some inner mindgame... Or is it just that different people bring out different things in me?

Peaches.

I was teaching one of my tuition kids something, when her mom came out and passed me a peach. She had a habit of feeding me while I was there, a fringe benefit of the job. (Besides the job satisfaction of teaching, that is.)

It was a massive peach. Round, reddish, redolent in its ruby splendour. Freckled with little yellow spots, like dimples in its blushing cheeks. It's perfume was enticing, smelling sweetly reminiscent of apples, yet uniquely ravishing in its character. Lacking the tart sharp sweetness of simple sugars, the fragrance exumed a refined quality of sophisticated delight.

I held the magnificent peach up to my nose, letting its subtle flavour waft into my mind. It was intoxicating.

My tuition kid was laughing at me. She had been doing her work for the last 5-10 minutes, all the while looking bemusedly at me sniffing the peach as if it was an olfactory gold mine. She had finished hers already. She asked me, "Why haven't you eaten it yet?"

Ah, but how could I tell her? The smell of the peach was a heaven unto its own. The vivacity of that strong scent brought it into a life of it's own, enthralling the senses, lulling one to imagine the peach as larger than life, full of flavour and sweetness. However, the perfection of the peach lay only in it's scent, for it is the scent of the peach that calls the fruit-lover, the taste of the unknown. What if I eat the peach, and find it less than fulfilling? Should I have been content in just smelling it all the while?

Before this degenerates into a needless philosophical discourse, to cut the story short, I ate the peach. As expected, it did not live up to my expectations.

But whose fault is it that it didn't? Was the fault mine, that I had expected too much from a simple fruit, and had built up my expectations too high? Or was it the fault of the peach, with it's alluring fragrance, tricking the fruit-lover into thinking that the peach was tastier than it looks?

Taking nature's view of it, it is an elegant solution to the problem of attraction. The peach simply had to attract fruit-lovers to it, for in the process of being eaten, it would be transported to new pastures to grow and reproduce. It is not necessary for the fruit to be sweet and tasty, for the attractive smell alone had achieved its goals.

But of course, if you ask any layman, he would find that the fault is in the fruit-lover, who loves fruits but does not understand them. Hence each time he tastes the fruit of his labour (heh heh) he is disappointed.

In my mind, the fruit-lover has to be an eternal optimist. Each time he sees a fantastic fruit, he has to try it, to find out if the fruit tastes as good as it looks. And even if it doesn't? Well, there's always different kinds of fruits, and new ones all the time.

But someday, when he knows the peach a little better, he might come back, drown in it's intoxicating spell for a moment, and take a bite.

I wonder how that will taste.

As the years go passing by.

Another year passes. And I look back and wonder. There's been a few mistakes, but good times were had. Recovery, moving on, learning from past mistakes. (Although with certain objections - It seems I don't learn sometimes.) Importantly though, life moves on, a little older, a little wiser. Hearken the wonderful words of Led Zeppelin:

In the days of my youth
I was told what it was to be a man,
Now Ive reached the age
Ive tried to do all those things the best I can.
No matter how I try,
I find my way to do the same old jam.

*good times, bad times,
You know I had my share;
When my woman left home
With a brown eyed man,
Well, I still dont seem to care.

Sixteen: I fell in love
With a girl as sweet as could be,
Only took a couple of days
Till she was rid of me.
She swore that she would be all mine
And love me till the end,
When I whispered in her ear
I lost another friend.

Voice of a hard-boiled angel.

Amazingly soulful. Why do they always die so young?

Visions of loveliness.

Whatever the hell happened to blogger man. Something's screwy with the interface. No matter. Life moves on.

I recently managed to get my luggage from Edinburgh back (yes, it left a month before I did, returned a month after. Do the math.) A little treasure trove of trinkets and things fell right out, along with assorted memories of SEP life.

Life was good then. It was simple. Why isn't it so anymore? So strange. It's as if we carry our complications with us, and it hangs in the air. Returning to Singapore refreshed, I get bogged down by the little details of life. Or perhaps the air in my homeland begs me to reflect, and think too much.

I was pleased to find that my posters had all arrived more or less intact. I just hung up my favourite star of the silver screen, she's sitting on my wall looking at me with a pensive smile.

http://blog.pricegrabber.com/chicshopper/files/2007/11/audrey-hepburn-poster-c11738523.jpg

There's another vision of loveliness that runs through my head every night, but that might just have to wait.

I've been infected with the blues. And it's good, a fantastic way to relax. Just kicking in a backing track and wandering up and down pentatonics for a few minutes is strangely therapeutic. Even better, it doesn't sound too bad either. Maybe i'll write a couple of songs, it's a form of self-therapy. Gets the insides out, if you know what i mean. Got to get out of the key of A though.

Work is fantastic. I love it. I'm sincerely hoping I get a change to get back in after I graduate, so i'm gonna work my arse off if I have to. It helps to have motivation everyday though. :)

The falling leaves.

I sent my brother off to the airport earlier, after a large, meaty bbq the night before. It's not difficult to resettle back into the rhythm of the Singapore life, when it just seems as if new tasks and events just loom over each horizon. The pace of life really does display a marked difference.

As I was turning into YCK, something caught my eye. The rain trees had shed some of their leaves, which were gently falling with the wind. As the cars drove by, the little currents toss and turn them, jarring their inevitable descent towards the ground, swirling up cones and sheets of brown fleckles.

For some reason, it brings to mind the blossoming of the sakura trees in Japan. I've never seen one personally, but if I were to imagine it, this would be what I see in the mind's eye. Something poetic about the way it just tumbles about, tossed by the winds of fate.

A dearth of freedom in the air.

As far as I can make it, the supposition of a free wireless at many places of transit seems to be a blatant lie. It seems as if every possible service provider is falling over themselves to provide a way to siphon more money from the undiscerning public.

Of which I am unashamedly one. From personal observation (and the critical comments of others, I must add) I realise that I have two weaknesses on the move - A severe coke addiction and a craving for the surrounding banality of the internet.

The first is a simple physical need - As I have explained to many, coke is the ultimate travelling tool. It's sugar, caffeine, and water all rolled into one package. Staves off hunger, depression, thirst, and it doesn't taste half bad, even when warm. It's hell for your teeth, but on the road, some things have to go. (Apologies to Ed, you will have a bitch of a time with my teeth.)

The second stems from the inherent call of the world - the need for information saturation, and the craving for the ease of having the knowledge of the planet at your beck and call, to answer to your every whim. Feel like checking out whats up with Michael Jackson's estate? Wondering about the new H1N1 count in Singapore? Have a sudden urge to watch Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train? The internet is the perfect complement to the ADD-led minds of today's generation. I've recently re-discovered the power of youtube - It's a visual google. There are a hundred and one explanations on how things are done, in thousands of messageboards and websites on the net. But as with many other things, some people learn better visually, and who better to teach than the hundreds of attention seeking demonstrators on youtube? I've found everything from how to change a floyd rose tremolo system, to dancing basic tango, to learning how to drop kick like William Shatner. Well, effectiveness could be debated. But it is entertaining, and some of the demonstrators are rather amusing.

Debating the extent of my addiction is difficult. I think i've paid a total of abt 50 sgd for 24 hours of internet access over 2 different airports in less than 12 hours. I know, i'm terrible. But as of now, I've got 7 hours more of dead time waiting to check in for my final flight out of London to Singapore, and I'm rather determined to keep my mind active and my wits about, all for the better to crash on the plane on the way back. It's 3am here, but about 9am in SG. All the better to shock my body clock back into sync with local time. As most of you know, I'm hitting the ground running, not much time to spare. Even the quarantine for those coming back from H1N1 countries was lifted, so there goes my 7 days of relaxation.

Well, the end of my exchange stint is rapidly approaching. I know I've been lacking in updates for the blog, but I'd developed a writing system over my exchange months. I've actually filled a small notebook cover to cover (single sided), and am currently happily writing on the back of the other side. It's actually quite rewarding to see it fill up with random observations, recording of travelling sights and events. I'll probably flesh it out with photos and some post-travelling comments when I get back (and if I have enough time.) Would I bother mass-producing it to give/sell to others? I don't know. I'll see how it goes.

Wherever you're going, i'm going your way.

One example why life is unfair - A voice that enchanting belongs to a face just as beautiful.

The hardest words are the seven letter ones.

It felt different, this time I stepped out of my room. Looking back, it was bare, stripped of its essence. The remnants of my past life these 5 months lay about in dribs and drabs, trailing a path of frantic packing over a night of musicals, whiskey and conversations.

I was leaving a hall, but yet it was different. In NUS (I'm not ashamed to say it) I was happy to leave. While I was rather active in hall, the activities were forced, and the people there I didn't quite clique with. Nevertheless, I made a few friends in my stay, although much more acquaintance. And besides, visiting Temasek was always a stone's throw away. Maybe that's why I never really went back?

I was leaving my room for a trip, but yet it was different. I stepped out of that little room in Pollock many times over the last few months, letting a few day's worth of dust settle before returning to its musty, homely splendour. It became so easy, I would barely start packing until hours before I was scheduled to leave. But each time I left, I knew it was only temporarily. A temporal distortion, taking me away for the moment, but only to return.

I was leaving my life in Edinburgh behind. A short life, but a very eventful one. In the last 5 months, I have made friends that I know I may not see again for the rest of my life. And that really sucks. When you're out there half a world away (or even 2 nations away) from home, every human contact and friendship counts. And you hold on a lot harder to people than you normally do. That's just the way of things.

And in this short life, I was reborn. I left the cares of a "second-lower-striving-for-second-upper" behind, left my eternal worries about studying, my grades, my projects... It was a good feeling. A feeling of release, of ease, of relaxedness. Life became meaningful in the passing of a breeze. The feel of the wind against your cheek. The softness of the grass you lie on to enjoy the sun. The ephemeral taste of a Guinness as it slides down the throat. The sudden ringing of the phone when a friend calls to ask what you're doing. Suddenly there was more meaning in life, and more life in meaning for me.

But all good things come to an end, and it was time to part. I will always feel that my departure from Edinburgh was a rushed affair, a ceasarian rip that tore me from the womb that nurtured me the last 5 months.

Barely 24 hours after my last paper, I left the city.

Knowing that the next time I come back, I won't call this home.

Knowing that the next time I come back, my friends will all haved moved on and gone.

Goodbye Edinburgh. Goodbye.

I've got my pride and i know how to hide all my sorrow and pain.

And too soon shall we all part.

aware?

I'm rather suprised at the effectiveness of Twitter as a social broadcasting tool. I'd been following the AWARE EGM at Suntec via Twitter for the last 3 hours, and it is a really gripping saga. Feels like some drama serial on TV.

The concept of distributed reporting seems seems to be a winner to me. What will come next? Sports twittering? I can imagine 100 people at a soccer match twittering every move, to the delight of fans all over. This is the new face of citizen journalism - Who needs skill? Just a short sentence (which sometimes barely makes sense), but with a couple hundred other people doing so as well, it all comes together.

Cheers to the new AWARE exco. Keep the fundamentalists out.

Let The Right One In.

This film is startlingly gripping. And definitely a new take on a genre spoiled by the Twilight series. Shot in Sweden, the atmosphere is dark, gloomy, and I swear i feel the chill even in my warm room here. The actors, despite being children, deliver a strong depth in their performance. Dark, moody, poignant, I would watch this again just to share with my friends what interesting things you can find when you actually bother to look at the advertisements on the London Underground. Do watch it if you can, before the Americans get to it and spoil it for the rest.

Best. Eponine. Ever.

I always liked Les Miserables. So when I got the chance to see it again in London, I jumped at it. Didn't matter that I had to drag two other friends to come and see, it was so worth it. Even if I had to pay for the other two (which I didn't.)

Completely blew me away. Nostalgic yet new at the same time, with the songs taking on much more meaning and undertones. It is believable that these people have done the show year after year, it was splendid.

I always found Eponine much more outstanding than Cosette, for some reason. The London cast only reinforced that opinion for me. Nancy Sullivan is a fantastic Eponine. Doesn't help that she's a flaxen-haired beauty with the voice of an angel. Sigh. Could a couple more girls like that fall out of trees please?

This is one of my favourite songs from the musical. She's singing about unrequited love. Hopelessly romantic, but it's a thing I do, I guess.

The Horror.

It's amazing what you bump into on random bookshelves in youth hostels. An enterprising bugger actually left a copy of Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness and other stories" on the shelves. Not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth, i promptly stole it (well, borrowed) for the duration of my stay.

It took 2-3 nights of nearly falling asleep to make it through the text, but once i was done i couldn't help but go through it again. It's one of those things that you would want to read over and over, poring through the details of the meanings, the depth of the intepretation. On the surface it is a simple tale of restoration, to bring back someone lost in the jungle. Below, the currents draw deep.

What is the heart of darkness that Kurtz and Marlow speak of? Not merely the depth of primeval jungle that Kurtz has imprisoned himself in. Perhaps it is the greed of the merchant trader, willing to do all to take the ivory from the shores of Africa. The will to ignore what happens to others, to forsake the humanity due to the natives, to bind them to his will, and to pillage and plunder wantonly.

Or perhaps it is the darkness of the spirit, that infects those far from civilisation - the darkness drawn not from the exterior surroundings, but rather from a lack of internal nourishment. The lack of companionship, the lack of order, the lack of civility. The complete and utter failure of society to prepare the orderly minds of the educated to face the rawness of the jungle. In that way, the "Heart of Darkness" draws a parallel to "The Lord Of the Flies", but instead of seeing the gradual disappearance of society, we see the effects of a society gone to ground - where supplies sent are squandered, where rule of law exists by whips and guns, where the slaves are slaves due to a meaningless charter, where all that exists is a greed to take and take, without consideration or care.

I like the book. Intend to get it back in Singapore. I think the other two stories are worth reading, if only to place "Heart of Darkness" within context.

Teh Shit.

Writing...

There's a certain satisfaction in writing long emails and blogs. For me its been more of the former than the latter since I arrived in the fair city of Edinburgh. I think its a lost art. The ability to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) and to write sincerely, from the heart, and to let others know about how you're doing.

I think I'm one of those who derive great pleasure from writing. It used to be fiction - I remember loving the freeform composition writing I did in secondary school. Now apparently I get a kick out of talking about my travel experience, writing in a somewhat off-putting mildly disjointed way - But i guess that's the way I'm thinking at the moment. Free-Association mental workings.

I think, well, I'm quite sure I will write a book on my travel experiences. Probably a photo-book kind of thing, with my notes supplementing my favourite photos from my 6 months here. So I have a one man market, but are there any more out there who would buy it?

Gambling.

I had never been a gambling man.

 Well, I claim to scoff at those who make their fortune from the bad plays of others, and disdain the casual wagered games of chance (or skill). Perhaps I just can't play it well? I hope my dislike for the bet goes deeper than that.

I'm straight and narrow. Always on the straight and narrow. A failing perhaps - To always want to know exactly where things are heading, to want to know as much as I can about the future, to find the path laid before me unfurl exactly as planned. Boring? Methodical? You decide. I like seeing my plans put into action. I like knowing what I want to do tomorrow, the day after, the week after, the year after. Well, not exactly in three-dimensional computer simulation kind of detail, but a rough idea would be good.

I was never one to live life on a day to day basis. Even now, on a honeymoon semester in Edinburgh, it shows. My Rainlender is packed - Not with school stuff, but with the things I want to do OUT of school. Carpe Diem, they say. I say Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctis, Carpe Vita.

And that's just me. I like me this way.

Osmonds!

Fantasies

Right now I'm thinking...

Get one of my friends to find a bloody pigs head.

Bring it to the Chem Engin Office in NUS.

Leave it on a certain someone's table.

Tattoo across the head in fluorescent marker (or better yet write it in blood on the wall)

"READ AND REPLY YOUR EMAIL"

People are the same everywhere.

It was hilarious.

I was just in one of my chemical engineering classes (polymer science and engineering, to be exact.) The lecturer was saying that for this module, it will be a self-study guided lecture style, so he expects us to go and read up on the subject matter ourselves, and gather back the week after to discuss the answers to some preset questions he had for us. So he gave us the list of books that we were likely to use, and the call numbers in the library, and ended the lecture early.

And JUST LIKE WHAT I WOULD EXPECT IN SINGAPORE, every single scheming struggling chemical engineer in the bunch made a beeline STRAIGHT to the library, barely after he finished his last sentence. I was lucky to be ahead of the pack, and secured myself a copy of one of the books. Some others weren't as lucky. I think the librarian was shocked at the sudden impulse input of chemical engineers popping in.

Score one for kiasu-ism! When it comes to being kiasu, SINGAPOREANS ROCK.

SNOWFIGHT

I know its another entry about snow, but i can't help it. :)

I received a call from Kit, my HKU friend, telling me everyone's having a huge snowfight at the other end of Pollock Halls. So I gave the 2 girls a quick call, and quickly ran out. Keyword being quick, as it turns out i was desperate for some snowy fun.

Having being cloistered in my room the past 2 hours with the windows drawn, i was pleasantly suprised to see the ground outside coated with a thick (to me. its about 3cm or  4cm) layer of snow. Sensing imminent joy, i quickly ran (as fast as i could on snow, that is) over to Chancellors court. To my suprise, it wasn't just Kit, but the entire group of year 1 Singaporeans and HK people were there!

Heh. I was running like a sissy and screaming like a girl for over an hour. Halfway through I took off my jacket and was throwing snowballs with glee, in my t-shirt and track pants. NO GUTS NO GLORY. I don't think I could feel my fingers after the first 5 minutes, that was lucky. I might have sprained one of them dodging a snowball in bullet-time matrix style motion. As I type now, the feeling is returning to my fingers...... Ouch. really good thing that I couldn't feel my fingers earlier.

Alright, next objective - Cavorting around in the snow in sexy army shorts, and taking pictures to prove my EXTREEEEME nature to the guys. TAKE THAT YOU PUSSIES.

Oh and so sorry I haven't been updating the blog recently. A lot of time goes to updating facebook with my pictures. And blogger is inherently ill equipped to handle mass photo uploading, and facilitating a photostory style layout. Nasty stuff. Will try again when I have more time.

People try to put us d-d-down...

Isn't it a wonder.

It's snowing outside.

It's beautiful.

It's magical.

A soft white down, covering the land like a silky negligee, hiding the colours, the sound, the light.

Falling ephemerally, like dust in the wind.

The trees bare their upturned branches, stretching out like hands to receive the bounty of frost.

And all is quiet.

I hope i never lose my sense of wonder.

For if I do, I will never be as awestruck by such simple feats of nature.

Life is beautiful.

Highlights - A week in Edinburgh

Where do I begin?

Let's start with an amazingly beautiful campus, sprawling over the southern end of the old town, providing education for the masses for the last 200 years.

New friends, new acquaintances, new bonds.

An amazing city with well preserved Georgian architecture. (Pictures is Calton Hill at 6pm in the evening. Walking there tomorrow!)

Beautiful monuments to the figures that have shaped the city's history. (The prickly thing on the right is the Scott Monument, taken against sunset, with the outline of Edinburgh Castle on the bottom left. (Visiting on sunday!)

A night at Bannerman's with some lovely friends.

A historical tour, spanning the odds and ends of Edinburgh's history, and a visit to a very famous dog's gravesite. (For the unintiated, that's Greyfriar's Bobby, the dog that sat at his masters gravestone and wailed until he died.)

A walk up Exorcist stairs... (not the real one, just reminds me of it.)

Which is nicely rewarded by presenting us with the entrance to the castle (Revisiting on sunday!)

Edinburgh is a beautiful city, I cannot stress that enough. The beauty of the place alone was worth all that trouble coming over here.

Classes? What classes? :) Well, class ranges from interesting to boring... but as usual, being engineering, its more of the latter than the former, and being engineering, the girls are..... well, nuff said. Taking Polymer Science and Engineering, Environmental Issues in Chemical Engineering, Nanotechnology, Fouling in Process Industries, and hopefully Human Resource Management. See how it goes. :)

It's a pleasant 25min walk to class everyday. I feel the pain and stiffness in my calves when I reach my destination. At this rate, I might actually be healthy by the time i leave here!

And i found the most value for money thing here... Rittersport Block - 95 pence. TAN DIO. When crap cafe coffee costs 1.10 pounds, and a sandwich at lunch is 3 pounds...... Rittersport for 95 pence? TAN DIO. TAN DIO, TAN DIO, TAN DIO. heh.

Well, that's it for now. Update if and when i have time yeah?

Ridiculous

I just made a list of all the places i want to visit while i'm here.

If I spent a day in each city, it will take me 2 months to cover everything. (not including travelling)

Time to start prioritizing......

And on the 5th day, God Gave me a Rainbow.

The biggest, fattest, most well defined rainbow I have ever seen in my life. If there was a Ms Rainbow Universe 2009, this clinches the top prize.

I love studying in a foreign country. If there's one thing I can say now, is that everyday brings a new and unique experience.  The morning was dark and gloomy as I made my way down to the King's Buildings, where the science and engineering students work. But as I left my first class of the semester, I was pleasantly suprised to see a shiny day, chasing the clouds away.

Now isn't it a lovely day to be out?

Taking a Backyard Stroll: Arthur's Seat

Brilliant, I was, to take a nice morning stroll. I headed out this morning while the sky was purple (at about 8am), and went to get me some hearty breakfast. (Enough for 2 people or a cow.) 

The sky is beautiful at that time of the day. The purple highlight transforms the most mundane scenes into panoramas of beauty, sweeping across the breaking dawn like a wave of a royal hand.

When the light got brighter, I walked back past Pollock Halls, making my way down to Holyrood Park. 

This area has been a park for over 400 years, and is well tended by paid and volunteer woodsmen. I took the long way about, skirting the Salisbury Crags, which gives walkers a beautiful vista of the city falling below it's heights.

 Going round the back, I approached the Palace of Holyroodhouse, where people were bustling about getting ready for some mass run in the park. Luckily i went early enough to avoid the crowd. 

Cutting across the centre of the park grounds, i made a beeline for the peak of the park, Arthur's Seat. Legend has it that this is where King Arthur was buried. I wish. Apparently it might have just been a bastardisation of "Archer's Seat", which makes more sense as an band of archers holding the location as high ground would prove nearly impenetrable.

Well, whats a climb to the top without a view from the top?

I'm gonna get back up there again. Going solo wasn't really such a good idea - The wind nearly blew me off the top of the hill. (yes all *** kg of me). Will get and post more pictures soon.

Till then, I'll just have to walk more and buildup my stamina!

The Eagle has Landed

I was toying with the idea of sending a mass email to all the interested participants, but the idea of collecting the email addresses is... well, daunting.

Meanwhile, first impressions:

This... is not my hostel room. :(

Wish it was though! It's a graduate hostel room I think.

Here's to more good first impressions. :)

And where it stop nobody knows.

Stimulation is a terrible thing.

With the date of my departure fast approaching, I find that time is fleeting...... Minutes flit by like so many buzzing insects, whirring past the stream of consciousness. It takes a great deal of effort to contemplate each moment as a seperate entity, denying the endless agglomoration of time, sectioning the hours into coherent units.

It's aided less still by new sources of endless entertainment - 10 seasons of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, a few thousand readily available episodes of Naruto and Bleach, as well as the siren call of a bed that I won't see for 6 months. Attempts at regaining traction in my usual social life has encountered, well, lets just say a few oil slicks. Still, it's a futile attempt, for in less than a week I will again be wrenched from the familar comforts of mundanity and whisked to - let's face it, a really really cold place.

Which is not necessarily bad. It's cool. (snort snort.) It's making sure that everything falls in order so that the transition is smooth that bothers me. It would seriously annoy me if I missed something and have the transition interrupted. Bah. Only time will tell.

Musing - If Schadenfraude is a word that means pleasure at the misfortune of others, what's the word that means pleasure at the happiness of others?

She looks so happy. :)

And it was really nice to see the entire gang (well almost the entire gang) together last night. It's been a while since I saw most of them, and its the first time we got together all the couples. Very sweet. Very nice. Let's hope this team sticks together for the long run.

You guys rock my world. :) (I'm gonna miss you all.)