"Numbers"

8, 13, 138 & 813

believe it or not, these are numbers that I always see, hear and have connected to me in someways. Most people, including myself, will also understand that here we observe a psychological phenomenon known as selective memory. Simply, it means I see crtain numbers because I want to see them, because perhaps they have been corelated to a particular event (eg. 813 was my dormatory room no. in HK, desk no. 13 was where I sat in my first job, 13/08 was the date I had my belly pierced, etc.) linked to certain important phases of my life, ignoring occurences of other numbers when they appear, and eliminating the chance of any other number to become "my" number.

Do we make our own reality?

2 days ago, I met up with some friends who have been living in Australia after college... and the last time we met up was some 4 years ago. Coincidentally, right after I return from my travels, one of them got in touch with me over MSN. So it was amazing for me, how they were still very much the same. Same goof, same loving and same fun. While exchanging some updates about our lives, I mentioned that it's strange I haven't bumped into "the rest of the other people" from college, considering that Singapore is a pretty small place. Well never say never, the next day I accompanied my sister to get some wine for our <>. And there at the wine cafe, I found one familiar face.
Connection or Coincidence? Coincidence.

Last night when I returned home, I got news about a friend who came down with viral infection of the brain and was admitted to the hospital. Apparently, we got some news that her condition had lapsed into comatose. When we went to visit her at the hospital this morning, it was comforting to know she has regained conciousness.

"Why?", was the question that kept me up all night. As much as I am aware, such situations are rare - "Unknown viral infection of the brain". But this is the 2nd time I've heard it happen to someone. First was a sister of a friend, and now a friend of my own.

In the lift ride up to the ward, I overheard a conversation reading out the bed number => bed 813. I was looking at lift buttons. There was 13 floors in this building. Destiny or Selective memory?
Unknown.

Last night before I went to bed, I was upset with a close friend over a present. She told me I didn't have to make her a present because she feels that since we are great friends, it was not important to spent too much time and effort on it. At the end it was a misunderstanding and I know she meant well, but I couldn't help feeling rejected, that it seemed she was not interested in the gift I was making for her.

Yes. Presents. What you think about giving presents. An obligation? Or a gesture of courtesy? Are you sincere? What do you think about receiving a present? How some presents and the person that gave them doesn't seem mean anything at the end of the day, and how some presents you will always remember and keep them close. And what it means to be appreciative? What if you dun like the present or it wasn't suitable? Are you going to be the honest friend? Or you will pretend to like it so everybody is happy? It's just a present eh? But it's becoming a big headache.

Last night I dreamt about my photographs from my travel. I have "cleverly" exchanged a Cannon digital camera for a Nikon manual camera. => before my flight, I carelessly left the cannon in Lithuania after I got drunk. Nikon was the beautiful present from Iggy. The pictures of London and Portugal from the Nikon have not been printed yet. So, it came up in the dream, that I had gotten them printed and was searching through all the photos looking for a picture which I wanted to send to Portugal. It continued that I didn't find it, and the rest of the pictures were all blurred. :(
well, in reality, I have got the negatives of the all the pictures, and most of the pictures in that roll of film look quite clear from the negatives.


I'd like to live everyday like there is magic... would it become delusional?
I'd like to remember everyday ... could it even be possible?

That which keeps you pure inside...

I remember a line from friend Egle...

"Crying keeps you pure inside."

After I did a little search... I found that tears and crying had a number of symbolic meanings.

"... crying as an emotional reaction is considered by many to be a uniquely human phenomenon, possibly due to humans' advanced self-awareness."
- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tears

"Gold, to the Incas, was the 'sweat of the sun' and Silver the 'tears of the moon.' "
- http://www.crystalinks.com/incan.html

"...when the Tartar barbarians (Mongols) invaded China, dragons cried for the people. When the tears came to Earth, they changed to jade... Jade is thought to be able to help a person just by being in contact with it. The feel of cool jade is said to elevate and purify thoughts, to quiet the mind, and to induce a state of contemplation. "
- http://bosp.kcc.hawaii.edu/Horizons/Horizons2002/Chinese_Jade.html

"
(1) Women cry five times as much as men.
(2) Typical crying episodes last 6 minutes for men and women.
(3) Tears are more often shed between 7 and 10 p.m.
(4) No correlation of age with crying frequency exists.
(5) 85 percent female and 73 percent male report they feel better after crying."
- http://www.primalinstitute.com/newsletter/bernfeld1.html


Hmm...

New Look

Decided to change the blog template for a fresh new look for the coming new year. I still get a mild shock when the bright lime page loads, then in a split of a second, I remember that I have changed it a day ago.

Monday 18-Decmber-2006

It rained since I woke up at midday. Infact, it is still raining right now. Heavily. And for the whole of today, I was working hard at job searching. Now, just taking a short "Time-Out". The job listings were sorted by dates, and the job titles were switching between Developement Engineer, Test Engineer, Design Engineer, Purchaser, Manager, Assistant Manager, Financial Advisor, Investment Consultant, Customer Relationship Officer, Accountant, Marketing Executive, Sales Executive, Banker, etc. I scan through line after line, Woooph... made me dizzy little bit...

But well I need to find a job fast fast fast...

Zoukout 2006 Weekend

I just reached home after the weekend partying. In 2 hours, I will need to meet a consultant for a weekend tutor post @ the community centres. Haven't slept much since Friday, but I decided to skip the sleep and put an entry instead. Now and then it occurs to me, that I'd prefer not to sleep, not to waste time.

Last weekend, I went to Zouk Out 2006 with a bunch of friends. It was a dance music festival @ Sentosa Island with lots of people (--> big beach party). Organised in collaboration with STB's (Singapore Tourism Board) "Uniquely Singapore" campaign, I believe it was a party aimed at completing the hip and happening, dance party nightlife image for Singapore, in hope of attracting more tourists to Singapore. It was a success because there were alot of people at the event. There were many drink stands, toilet areas and several stages (I think 4 or 5). WE stayed til the morning at about 7.30am and had arranged a private transport to pick us from the beach back home. WE thought about afterparty at a friends place, but I guess everybody was too tired and decided to head back home.

To meet up with friends was really nice, and honestly, it was the saving grace for the night's party. I didn't talk to anybody else. There was a foreigner man who offered to take a picture of me and Yun. We didn't even ask. And while I turned my back to him to check the pictures, he actually came up behind me and had his head over my shoulder so close that I could feel his body heat. In the same moment, I felt his hands on my hips and I stepped away as fast as I could react. As I turned to him, he raised both his hands into the air in plea for innocence, like as if he was confronted by policemen. I can't help but raised my brows at this pathetic attempt of his. I replied in honest hostility, "What's up man?" He puffed his cheeks in speechlessness and decided to give up and walk on.

Well, sometimes I wish to go to a party where I can smile at everybody and be nice. You can be a flirt, a heart breaker, whatever kind of lifestyle you seek. You don't have to be flawless, but this, dear readers, is sexual harassment. You can still meet nice people at parties now and then. And of course, there will always be all sorts of bastards in the world. But once in a while when these assholes turn up, it kills the love.

--> Miss Lovelight commented, "Zoukout is a commercial success, but not a spiritual one"

--> Miss PhiPhi thought, "... this is definitely not a "love" event.."

Sentosa has beautiful shorelines. They are small, but at sunrise and sunset, the silhouette of leaning coconut trees look absolutely picture perfect.

Cost of party:
SGD 48 (at entrance. Luckily we had prior reservations and credit card privillege discounts, we paid only SGD 34)
Drinks not included:
SGD 24 (total of 4 drinks that claimed to be alcoholic, but all I tasted was redbull and seven-up with ice)
Transport and island entrance:
SGD 10

********************************

Extreme Chilli Experience

Have you ever stuffed chilli in your face untill u sniff, choke and sob...?

The chilli experience can indeed be very extreme sometimes. The pain in the tongue, lips, stomach, and so on. To seek these experience takes more than a little courage in oneself. And when the sweat beads start to collect, then there is a feeling of expulsion, and mild relief of the tension built up from the taste of spiciness.

So I am home in Singapore now. Everything is so familiar, but I no longer feel the same about things at all. I've been going on long trips for 4 times now. First was a 6 months period working in Hong Kong, 2nd was a 2 months trip to India, 3rd was another 3 months trip to India, 4th was the past 6 months in Europe. Each time, homecoming always felt somewhat dull. End of the adventures. And this time, it is starting to feel difficult.

The pace, the beat, the vibes, the culture, the people, are all different. It's all about chic, style and wallet. Sitting in pretty pubs, fancy restaurants, earning the bucks. Marketing a new product, public taste assesment, competition, judging if item A is better than B. Investments, job opportunities, better job opportunities, house, car, shopping, spending. Who do you want for a bf, does he have the cash? Someone says, it's not about cash babes, but it's better if he is rich... isn't it?

Well, where is all these going, and if there is any meaning at all.

I have gathered many experiences and inspirations on my travel. And I was bursting with energy, to want to come home to seek the life I love, to want to be happy. Yet while I walked out of the airport and hopped on the taxi home, the air is humid and heavy, it's getting dizzy here. It felt harder to breathe.

Today I went to meet some friends in Zouk, one of our favourite clubs in town. Good music, good parties, and a great chill out bar. Then we went to Clarke Quay, where it used to be warehouses by the river in the past. Now, a myriad of bars, clubs and pubs have occupied area. They boast of classy hang outs, every inch and corner looked like it was polished and smoothed out to perfection. Not a single piece of trash on the ground. CHIC, is the style. Someone at the table asked me if I wanted to look younger and passed me a flyer publicising for the launch party of some beauty care product - Renoasis. On the flyer printed, "Dress code - Smart chic". Apparently, they say that this product uses Nanotechnology and can penetrate 7 layers of the skin, where the naturally based components can work on your system and regulate your hormonal balance for younger, fuller skin.

What is chic you might ask, or you already know. Anyway, I would explain it as the "super model" look, that every piece of garment or accessory on you needs to look just they way they were made for. Wear the design, or it is simply out.

So everybody looks like a super model, and wants to sashay down the walkways. Make a pose and make a round. Head turns, somebody bitches.

I got home at about 4am in the morning, still suffering from jetlag. I listen to some music, desperately trying piece everything together. The Europe trip, the homecoming, and future.
*Blank*
Everything was disconnected ... Attempting to join the dots was futile and hopeless. I made myself a bowl of noodles, stuffed it with chilli paddies (the really small but really spicy ones) and ate them. Just for the adrenaline rush. Just to burn my lips, feel the pain and to breathe. My nose started to run. IT was super spicy. And tears were flooding up.


*****
wake up to the kiss of a cat, hitchhike to the next town for a party, drink piktas in BlueOrange, sit in the kitchen and talk, jump into a lake, eat strawberries from the garden, pick mushrooms in the forest, spin rocks, jump into the sea in middle of the night, lay on the grass and watch the stars, sleep by the river bed, sleep by the highway, watch the sunset, wake up to the kiss of a dog, wake up to the sounds of seagulls, walk into a cafe with a friend behind the counter, have a double expresso after breakfast at Rua de Camoes, paint the walls, 5 policemen for 1 parking ticket, kiss twice and say hello, run and laugh in the rain, wink and say hello, break a bottle, hide the keys, laugh and choke on pasta, dance.