A Typical Day – Reload

Couple of days ago, I wrote an entry called A Typical Day.  As I keep reading the entry, I realize that last Tuesday is not as typical as it sounds.  Is there such a thing as a typical day?  Or every day can be special?

So I want to try once more, penning down what happened this Thursday.

7am

I love you, my avid readers.  You know exactly what I am going to type here.

7am my alarm clock rings.  I spring out of my bed in my usual vigor eager to face the day!  OK, I have to admit that my body feels somewhat stiffer than yesterday.  Last night was a tiring night.  I had a call with a business champion from UK till 8.30pm.  By the time I grabbed my chicken rice dinner, by the time I grabbed a cheap can of Japanese beer from a convenience store, and by the time I gave up waiting for Cynthia who was having a business dinner, I returned home at 10pm.  I bathed, then I played Mass Effect 3.  The robots I vanquished in the game came haunting me in my dream.  Because of that, I did not have a good sleep.  In my dream, I was the prey.  My stronger than usual desire to pee in the middle of the night saved me from my nightmare.

On the Road

Now that we have our car back, we listen to music of our choice.  Or rather, my choice.  And that is, Katy Perry.

Cynthia and I seldom fight over the car stereo.  She let me have it.  It is hard to define couple compatibility.  Letting somone to have the control over song choice is one.  In return, I let her have the TV remote control.  I watch anything that she throws at me.  Dogs.  More dogs.

There is a report on newspaper today.  Jessie J was in town and apparently, she sang 15 songs and she sang them well.  I knew she would sing well in live.  I doubt she would perform more than an hour or an hour and a half with only one album in her pocket.  Perhaps when she releases more songs, I may consider forking out some money to watch her performance.

Katy Perry

You must be thinking, I am crazy over Katy Perry, can’t stop talking about her.  I have a theory.  To the female audience, a female singer having a voluptuous body is a liability.  I further speculate that to the male audience, it is the complete opposite.  No wonder Cynthia did not like Katy Perry.

But, you know me.  I value song craftsmanship and music delivery more than … ahem … physical appearance.  The One That Got Away is my favorite track.  The music sounds so happy, but the story seems so sad.  I am a hopeless romantic.  The lyrics hit me like a homing missile.  The song speaks to me.  Katy Perry speaks to me.  I am in love, with her music.

9.05am

One buddy of mine sent me a non-work related email.  COE – a certificate that allows Singapore residence to own a car for 10 years – for cars above 1,600cc has breached the S$80,000 mark!  I cannot imagine how much my car would cost today.  The news further mentions that a similar phenomenon was seen in 1994, when that piece of certificate cost S$95,000 to S$110,000.

I hit reply and joke with my buddy that mid 90’s was round about the time when I was ditched by my ex-Singaporean girlfriend.  She did not think that I could provide for a certain level of lifestyle.  Seconds later, he replies that it is funny.  I hit reply and type that back then, it was not that funny, lol.  Send!

OK, that isn’t the complete picture.  But you know how history is written by those who type out blog entries in black and white.  There you have it.

9.53am

Feedback of the business requirement definition (BRD) document written for the Financial Markets folks starts to arrive at my electronic mailbox in batches.  After more dings and dongs, I have finally get a consented picture.  I made an update, and more updates, and I hit that send button at 11.46am.

One trusted colleague of mine who is holding onto a DHL parcel filled with books sent by a publisher for my review seems to be missing.  I inquire further and find out that she is on medical leave.  I guess, not today.

Lunch

Sophie Kinsella and I have a connection.  The library has messaged me saying that my reserved copy of Kinsella’s new novel is availability for collection.  I have been jumping up and down in joy since I received the news.  This morning, I have a plan on how to conceal this library book after the collection.  You see, a guy like me carrying a chick-lit novel painted in pastels under the broad daylight is not cool.  But like all things in life, I have forgotten to bring an envelope.  So I have to proudly proclaim my deep affection to chick-lit on a public street full of people, during lunch hours.

I call Jason, my old time buddy who now works a couple of blocks away from my office building, to join me for lunch.  I have no clue what girls talk about when they meet.  But here is a laundry list of our lively conversation.

• He talks about Sony Playstation 3.
• I chip in on the new Mass Effect 3 video game.
• He talks about a flying man who mounts a pair of rocket engines behind his back.
• I talk about last week’s Formula One in detail, breaking it down into drivers, car technology, engineers, and politics.
• He talks about GP Motor because he is a bike lover.
• I bring the topic back to Formula One.
• A waiter who looks like someone straight from a Japanese anime comes to our table and asks: what base [of the pizza] would you like?  My friend answers round.  I answer tomato.  That is so funny!  I can’t stop laughing.
• My friend says he wants to change his mobile phone.
• I say why not get an iPhone (you wouldn’t believe I said that right?!)
• He says he wants an Android.
• I say I am thinking of getting an iMac.
• He screams, “You?!”  He knows how much I dislike Apple.
• He asks if an alien race visits Earth and wants to know three must-read novels that are entertaining, what would I recommend?
• I say the first one is easy.  The Unbearable Lightness of Being written by Milan Kundera.
• He replies: the unbearable what?
• I continue.  If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler by Italo Calvino.
• He says: what?!
• I speak slowly, mouthing each word in perfect pronunciation, with an Italian accent.
• He asks: is that even a legit sentence?
• Duh.  As for the third one, it has to be one of the books by Doris Lessing.  I haven’t decided on which one of hers I like the best.  By then he seems to lose interest.  So we talk about movies.
• Over the library counter, while I collect the chick-lit, Jason asks out loud, “You read chick-lit.  Are you gay?”  He speaks slowly, mouthing each word in perfect pronunciation, with impeccable Singaporean accent.
• Duh.

You see.  Guys don’t think of sex all the time, in contrary to what you girls think.

PS. I have to say there is this particular girl I see in the mall …

More Updates

After lunch, I return to my desk and continue updating another BRD document.  This one is content intensive.  And I do need to think pretty hard.  I have a forum to attend hosted by my boss’s boss’s boss at 5pm.  I have to work faster!

4.21pm

I hit that send button and the Word document has instantly been disintegrated into a finite, albeit long string of one’s and zero’s, flashed down through the cable at the back of my laptop, and into the false flooring.  This string of invisible wave form hits the network exchange box and is transmitted to a computer server in chucks.  Within nano seconds, chucks of my beloved document are reconstructed into its former glory, ready for the recipient to perform yet another round of review.

4.45pm

My contact in UK messages me via instant messaging, asking for clarification on BRD #1.  I really need time to prepare for the 5pm forum!

4.55pm

My contact in Singapore calls me, asking for clarification on BRD #2.  He finally gets that I have another meeting to attend.  He possibly hears me running up the stairs, in an enclosed area full of echos.  Let’s talk tomorrow, he says.  I hope that he doesn’t mistakenly think that I pick up his call inside a loo with one hand on the phone and another hand on …

Nah.  I can never do stuffs like that.

5pm

It is my first time being so up close and personal with my boss’s boss’s boss.  A forum is for a group of people to meet face-to-face and to contribute ideas.  As always, there are some who speak a lot.  There are some who are perpetually quiet.  I strike a happy medium between the two extremes.

6.05pm

After the forum, I continue my online messaging with my contact in UK.  Looks like more work needs to be done.  I have a party organized by my boss’s boss to attend.  My UK contact understands.  There is always tomorrow.

After I have shutdown my laptop, I pop by my department’s area and ask if anyone need a ride for the party.  We gossip on who our next matchmaking target would be.  And etc.  We giggle.  It is girls’ talk, plus one man – a man who enjoys reading chick-lit.

7.15pm

The drive to Riverside Point is brutal.  There are at least two road accidents along the highways.  I often eat first, before any party, or media event, even though food is served at the venue.  I choose Subway, because I know exactly what to order and what to expect.  At the queue, in front of me is an old Western man.  He drops his walking stick while ordering his sandwich.  I hesitate, wanting to see how flexible his body is when he picks it back up.  Well, one day I will arrive at that age.  And I want to know what I will be able to do.

Of course I don’t have the heart to see that.  So I quickly – after a few nanoseconds of hesitation that really doesn’t count – pick up the walking stick and hand it over to him.  He seems delighted.

7.50pm-ish

I am late!  The party is already in full swing.  Drink and food is served.  People are having a great time.  It is good to catch up with some colleagues and external business contacts.  Some are local.  Some fly in from overseas.  Is it work?  Sure it is.  While I am at it, why not have fun out from it?

I have one pint of fruit beer that looks like watermelon juice.  And several pints of ice water thereafter.  Someone has ordered ultra spicy buffalo wings.  The watermelon juice has painted my face pink.  These wings turn my face red, bright red.  I forbidden anyone to take a photo of me.  I do not need a Facebook disaster to haunt me for the rest of my life.

During the party, I have overheard a story.  A funny story.  A story with a morale.

In one village, there was a sage who had a problem.  He wore a loincloth, the only piece of garment he wore round his waist.  Every time he hang his cleaned loincloth for drying, a rat came by and bite a hole onto it.  What should he do?  He consulted his friend and his friend told him to get a cat.  Because cats chase away rats.

So the sage bought a cat.  But the cat did not chase after the rat.  It kept running away from home.  The sage returned to his friend and asked, “What should I do now?”  His friend answered, “You have to feed your cat with milk!”

Because the sage was a busy man, more often than not, he forgot to buy milk home.  The cat was not fed and the rat was still there chewing onto his loincloth.  The sage visited his friend again for advise.  His friend then proposed, “Why not get a cow?  You can milk your cow to feed your cat.  Problem solved!”

The sage listened to his friend and bought a cow.  Then he realized that it took time to milk a cow and the task was tedious.  He just did not have the time!  Now that his problem escalated, he approached his friend again.  His friend gave it a thought and said, “How about hiring a helper to help with your domestic work?  She can milk the cow and you can carry on with your work.”

When the village learned that the sage was living with a young maiden, there was an uproar.  How could a wise sage stay with a young maiden under the same roof?  That was preposterous!  Now that the sage ended up with a bigger problem, all because of a piece of loincloth, he turned to his friend in desperation and asked, “Tell me.  What shall I do now?”

“Marry her”.

10.10pm-ish

The party is great.  But I am getting sleepy.  My boss seems a bit tipsy.  So I offer to send him home.  My another colleague asks if I could drop her off to a train station near my home.  I offer to send her home instead.  I mean, it is getting late.  I don’t have the heart to drop a lady in the open dark.  Who knows what sort of monsters spawn out when the clock strikes twelve.

I drive to the east, and then to the west.  By the time I reach my home in the north, I have clocked in a total mileage of 150km for the day.

11.30pm

Cynthia greets me at the door.  After a long day at work, seeing her renews me.  I am happy.  All my tiredness melts away.  That is a magical moment.  Cynthia is magical, even though she looks half asleep.  Time for a hot shower!

Midnight

Time now is twelve and I am stuck with a movie review deadline.  I keep hitting the wrong buttons, typing in the wrong words.  I must persist.  There is a deadline to meet!

1.07am

I hit that publish button.  The review for Salmon Fishing in the Yemen is live!  Mass Effect will have to wait.  I submit my entry via electronic mail.  Now, I need my bed, bad.