Category: Diary

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.

This morning, some time between seven to eight, I had this wonderful idea.  Why not write a blog entry on what I do today?  I mean, I have been encouraging people to start blogging, or at least keep a personal diary.  The common response would be, “My life is boring and there is nothing interesting to write”.  To that, I would reply, “It is all about perspective, yes?”

Little did I know that my ‘typical’ day is not that typical at all!

7am

Every working morning, my alarm clock rings at seven.  I jump out of my bed in my usual vigor and ready to face the day, which is going to be great.  I am in great spirit with a big smile on my face.  What a great night I had with my buddy Melvin.  We nailed those 11 waves of robotic and organic enemies in our Mass Effect co-op mission.  Not once, but twice.  33% of online matches end up a failure, according to the global statistics.  Winning twice in a roll has a success rate of 45%.  Yes, we nailed it.  I am so looking forward to nailing it again, with my buddy.  Maybe tonight.

Stretching exercise is good.  I do that almost every morning right after I brush my teeth.  My body has been stiff since the day I have come to know my body.  Every morning, I hope to touch the ground with my long stretched fingers as I bend over.  Every morning, my hope is dashed a little bit.  Never mind.  There is always tomorrow to try again.

Showering is the best time for reflection.  Yesterday, I have spent a lot of time – like 10 millions others I would imagine – going through the media kit Blizzard has released for their upcoming World of Warcraft expansion Mists of Pandaria.  I have tons of questions.  After my shower, I head to my computer, log into the game’s forum, and post my questions.  Seconds later, there are responses.  And more responses from the community at the ticking of the clock.  Despite all these responses, I am still confused.

Ironing too is the best time for reflection.  Yesterday, I have attended a media invite to watch Salmon Fishing in the Yemen. There is a deadline for the movie review submission.  What shall I write?  It is a great movie.  I love it.  Before I can type out the review in my head, my shirt is ironed.  Time to have my breakfast!

Breakfast is prepared by Cynthia during weekdays, always.  Over breakfast, I ponder upon the new reputation system in Mass Effect 3.  I have tons of questions.  I open up my browser, log into the game’s forum, and post my questions.  Minutes later, there are responses.  Useful responses.  I love the BioWare community.  They seem to be more mature than the Blizzard community.  I wonder why.

Washing dishes is not the best time for reflection.  I wash the dishes as fast as I can.  Cynthia and I sing Go West on our way out.  It is time to go to work.  Hooray!

8.37am

Every working morning, I drive 17km to drop Cynthia in town, and then drive 17km to my office in the east.  Today, we are still driving the rental car, which is old and smelly, dusty inside and a big splash of monkey shit at the bonnet outside.  We miss our car, which is still in the workshop, after that stupid accident.

We seldom listen to radio in the morning.  We listen to our music instead.  This rental car with a daily rate of S$90+ does not give us many choices.  So we listen to the Married Man on radio, like we have for the past one week.  Sometimes, the program can be really funny.  Most of the time though, it is a blah.

This morning, the DJs talk about Facebook.  Should employers investigate potential employees’ background via the social networks?  Personally, I wouldn’t check out my colleagues’ social network pages.  My time is precious.  I would rather spend time reading something interesting.  Besides, what you do outside the professional world is not my business.  For one, I do not want to unread what I may have read, including those weird photos.  You are my colleague and I only want to know you as my colleague.

At 8.37, one of the DJs announced, “Time now is eight seventy-three”.  The DJs break into laughter.  We break into laughter.  Sadly, that is the funnest thing we have listened to from the radio this morning.

The car workshop calls.  My car is ready for collection.  Hooray!  I will collect the car at day end, I say to Calvin.

Early Morning

Finally arrived at work, I head to my usual bench area.  The window seat is taken so I take the aisle seat instead.  I am not a fan of the middle seat.  Lucky for me, it is relatively early and there are still options.

Every morning when I arrive at my office, the first thing I do is to pee.  It has been a long drive.  The second thing I do is to fill up a bottle full of water.  The third thing I do is to go through my electronic mailbox.  There are follow-ups, and more follow-ups.  One of my business-as-usual activities is to analyze the change requests.  Truth be told, there are so many other things to do so much so that analyzing the change requests often get bumped to a lower priority.

There is an escalation, on some requests being stuck in the pipe for far too long.  My fault!

Oh great.  Time to write more email replies and to detonate the situation.

11am

It is time to meet our negotiator!  I am excited.  After months and months of organizing workshops and studying the feasibility of a product, it is time to let money does the talking.  The negotiator and I work in the same office.  I see her often and she sees me often.  It is the first time we are introduced.  I quickly get her up to speed on what we are doing and where we are.  Here are the ammunition.  Go shoot something.  I do not actually say that, of course.  But I make it sounds as though she is our savior, and our last hope.  It is true.  We hit a wall.  The price is too high.  It is time to send in our professional negotiator and lawyers and get the job done.

One way or another.

12pm

I go back to my laptop and, you guess right.  I check my electronic mailbox.  Out of nowhere, there is an urgent email sent by my boss: There is a workshop at the vendor venue this week, see if you can attend.  Lovely.  This tosses my schedule off the window, crashed by the landing planes.

All of a sudden, there is an incoming instant message from my colleague who sits very near to my boss’s boss: Are you going for the workshop?  Sure, I say.  It is time to call the car workshop and arrange for an early release.

After Noon

I don’t have a super long lunch break.  The workshop is 35km away from my office.  Time for high fuel burning driving mode!

I arrive at the workshop faster than I thought.  Calvin greets me warmly, with the invoice.  I pay the S$500 insurance excess.  I pay the S$700+ car rental fees.  The total repair costs more than S$3,000.  Out of the total bill, S$1,000 is for the spraying work.  My car now has a shiny backside, I joke with Calvin.  It is true.  View from the back, you would have thought that I have bought a new car.  I wonder when I will receive the reimbursement from the one who hits my car.

On the Way Back to Office

I am hungry.  I am tired.  And I am sleepy.  The only thing that propel me forward, on this never ending highway, is the vision of a large gourmet sandwich dangling right in front of me.  Katy Perry’s latest song plays on the radio.  My vision of a large gourmet sandwich has instantly been replaced by a totally different vision.  Oh man.  Katy Perry.

By the time I am near to my office, I change my mind.  Why not have my quick lunch at the airport instead?

At the Airport

Lasagna talks to me.  I can’t recall when I last ate a lasagna.  So I have a combo meal that comes with warm garlic bread and a can of Coke Light.  After my quick lunch and as I am heading to my car, horror strikes.  Where is my car key?

I dash back to the restaurant.  Combed through the entire counter and the black colored floor, together with the help of the restaurant’s manager and staffs.  My car key is nowhere to be found.  Panic!  I leave my number to one of the staffs, and trace my way back to the car.

Nope.  I pray very hard, and still, I see no car key.  I body search myself very hard, and I find my key at my back pocket.  Oh gosh!  Since when I put my car key … there?!  Morale of the story #1: accident often occurs when you do something unusual.  Morale of the story #2:  what you are searching may have been right there with you all along.  Morale of the story #3: do not underestimate the power of prayers.  For all you know, God may have retrieve the key and put it into my pocket.

I would not have known.

2.02pm

Due to the little episode at the airport, I am late for a 2pm meeting.  For two minutes.  No one seems to notice.

It is the first time the new business analyst team gets together, and introduce among ourselves.  When asked what my favorite animal is, I blur out pandas.  I blame the World of Warcraft media kit I read yesterday.  Year 2012 will be a year of pandas.

Again, I am tasked to look into the project’s overall quality and standard.  That is fine.  I like discipline and I love templates and processes.  I am as rigid at work as my stiff body at home.  Halfway through our meeting, the fire alarm goes off.  A false alarm it turns out to be.  Typical.

3.15pm

I rush back to my desk  and clear some of my work.  Because I need to rush to the workshop in town at 4.30pm.  Another colleague asks if I can share my business continuity plan with her so that she can copy the contact information into her fire drill document.  Sure.  I love to help, always.

My boss’s boss emails me asking if I can review a document crafted by one of the global heads.  Sure.  I love my job, always.

And my work plan for the rest of the week can be flushed into the drain, for good.

3.45pm

The drive from my season car park in Changi to my season car park in town takes less than half an hour.  The workshop is two train station away from where I park.  So I walk to the station and take a train from Bras Basah to Promenade.  Suntech City is right next to the new Promenade station.  OK, it is not really that new a station.  But it is my first time emerging from Promenade.  I am delighted, very delighted.

4.15pm

When I enter the large meeting room on 18th floor, our team and the vendor’s team are locked into a focused discussion.  It is so focused that out of twenty people, only one notices my arrival.  I am specialized in being invisibility.  This ability has its merit in helping me to survive in a corporate world.  For instance, the bosses may one day gather around the table, or at the pub, and they may ask among themselves: Who shall we fire next?  Invisible man does not usually get fired.  Because no one sees him.

5pm

During the break, I am finally spotted.  Some are shocked, “When did you come in?”  I reply, “I materialized into this meeting room, that’s why!”

I think I shall stop playing video games.

This meeting is utterly strategic, talking about upcoming new features, areas we could potentially benefit from the overlooked features, and the road map ahead.

6pm

The meeting does not end on schedule!  The host announces that 6.30pm is the new target.  Somehow, I know that she is not going to keep her words.

6.30pm

This meeting sees no end, as I have predicted.  You should know by now that the reason why I am so good in anticipation is because I can see the future.  I am Twilight’s Alice and Invisible Man combined.

6.40pm

Zzzz.  I am getting hungry.  My Spanish class is starting in 20 minutes’ time!  Hurry please!

7.02pm

Finally, this meeting has ended.  I have no idea how the American on the call can stay awake till 4am in the morning.  I would have fallen asleep.  Time to take a train back to Spanish school, which is two stations away.

7.30pm

There is no point in rushing to class.  I am super late, anyway.  So I take my time and have a bowl of fish soup served with rice at a hawker center nearby.  The food is not memorable, like most of the food in Singapore.  It fills my stomach.  That is its sole purpose.

7.55pm

Knowing that the era of my Spanish learning journey may come to an end, I put in extra effort during today’s class.  Learning Spanish is getting harder and harder.  I feel as though I need the time to digest and to experience the language.  Not in a classroom setting, but rather through reading and listening.  Today, we have so much fun practicing to articulate what we are afraid of.  To be honest, the only thing in life that freaks me out most as of now is Spanish oral examination.  The class laughs when I say this out loud.

9.02pm

The class gets stretched a little bit.  My mind is somewhere else when we get down to the last set of exercise.

We have an assignment.  In this assignment, we are the the scriptwriters.  We have to make a video in order to present a set of images that are completed with Spanish narration.  Cynthia and I share the same assignment – a movie titled Singing Under the Sun.  This is going to be fun, I think.

By the time I reach home, I have clocked 150km of driving distance today.

10pm

After a nice shower, time to start writing a blog entry titled A Typical Day.  I target to complete this entry by 11pm so that I have one hour to play Mass Effect 3.  Commander Shepard awaits.

11.30pm

Cynthia has retired to the bedroom and I am still stuck in front of the computer writing this entry.  I am a sad panda.  I am wondering: Am I a slow writer?

12.22am

Time to push that publish button.  I have read and edit this entry a couple of times.  I will spend more time tomorrow morning to do more editing.

My beloved bed here I come!

I seldom celebrate anything in a big way these days.  Why is it so?  Perhaps novelty wears off after years of the same motion.  Last Tuesday, attending our weekly Spanish class was a bunch of married people.  The singles, we presumed, were out celebrating Valentine’s Days.  I wanted to do something special.  But work lately has been hectic.  It zapped all my juice away.  The best thing to do is to chill at home.  Last evening, Cynthia asked if I wish to celebrate my Ex-O birthday in a big way (don’t ask what ex is!)  Gee, no thanks.  It will be on a Tuesday.  If we have not given up learning Spanish by then, we would be celebrating my big Ex-O birthday with our Spanish classmates and teacher.  That is a big if.

Learning Spanish has been a rough journey lately.  To me, it is like scaling Mount Everest.  The lack of coursework and the absence of an end-of-the-course examination seem to have put me onto an auto pilot mode.  That means, doing nothing.  Spanish grammar is confusing.  Subjunctive – a mood that expresses how one feels about the action – brings me down to my knees.  It is like taking the already confusing Spanish grammar – indicative in different tenses – and doubled it up.  For every conjugation that exists in the mood of indicative, there is an evil twin that has the label called subjunctive.  These distorted hideously beautiful aliens multiplies, and soon making me unlearned all that I have come to know.  Oh dearest subjunctive, why must you be so mean?

Year 2012 turns out to be a golden year of video gaming.  It is like having the top ten world renowned writers suddenly decide to publish a book this year.  It may take you eight to twenty hours to read a book.  Games these days may take up to 100 hours to consume.  If I spend two hours a day playing video games, it would take fifty days to finish one game.  Possibly seven games a year, top.  For now, if my favorite games are to be released on time, I am likely to have Final Fantasy XIII-2, Kingdoms of Amalur, Mass Effect 3, Diablo 3, Guild War 2, another Blizzard game, and BioShock: Infinite to complete the top seven spots.  Oh yes. I suppose I will see you next year instead.

What do a bunch of technologists talk about over a dinning table?  Technology.  Given a choice, I would rather talk about the latest Hollywood gossips.  Or even better, the upcoming F1 season that is due to start in less than a month’s time.  Or Japanese hornets raiding the honey bees.  Or any bizarre videos I have viewed lately in YouTube.  Even the new Nikon DSLR camera could be well qualified as a mouthwatering dinner topic among a bunch of business associates.  No, we talked about software bugs.  Now, before you yawn and dose off, that evening, there was something profound I have come to reflect upon.  You see, I was once a Bug Whisperer™.  I have devoted the early part of my career in squishing bugs.  I can see the bug’s roots like no other can.  For the bugs that can be surgically removed, I weed them out without hesitation.  For the bugs that are too entrenched into the scheme of work like tumor cells, I quarantine them and render them ineffective.  Back then, I pictured myself as a surgeon, dealing with some of the ugliest things hidden underneath a file name.  I took pride in what I did, believing that I was on a mission to make this world a better place.

My question is: Why do we see bugs as acceptable features?  You buy a car and do not expect it to come with any defeats.  You buy a kettle and expect it to boil water every time you press that button.  It is almost impossible to see defeat free software application, or a bug free game.  We have patches after patches to fix the problems.  We have a big team of technicians solving issues and testing fixes.  We build an economy whereby people’s livelihoods depend on the very existence of bugs.  And hence contributing to the resilience of the bug nation.  Software is unlike machinery.  A bug free piece of code could last for eternity.  Perhaps building bug free software is as impossible as crafting a machine that runs forever.  It is time that wears down the latter; it is the lacking of that plagued the former.

The happiest moments of my day are two.  I wake up seeing that someone is still sleeping; I travel to town and pick that someone up after work.  My friend’s wife once commented that Cynthia is like my pet.  Wherever I go, she is there.  Whatever I do, she is also there.  The more I think of it, the more I am convinced that I am her pet instead.  That’s right.  No dogs in the house please.  I don’t want my role to be made redundant.

Kupo?

Part One – Dinner

Perhaps I shall hand out a feedback form to my mother to fill in at the end of her each visit to Singapore, at the airport, before flying back to Hong Kong.  The questions, I would imagine, go something like …

1. Have you seen enough of your son in your visit?  [ ]
2. Have you spent enough quality time with your daughter and your granddaughter?  [ ]
3. Is your son’s home comfortable to live in?  Do you feel at home?  [ ]
4. Do you feel overworked with the cooking and dish cleaning?  [ ]
5. Have you been taken out often enough for sightseeing and dinning?  Sushi perhaps?  [ ]
6. Do you enjoy your stay in Singapore?  [ ]
7. Will you be back in the next 6 to 12 months?  [ ]

I honestly do not know how well or badly I do.  Maybe I could have done more, a lot more.  Maybe I am not so used to having people around me all the time, besides Cynthia.

Last Saturday evening – the evening before my mother headed back the next day – Cynthia and I were scratching our heads pondering where to bring my mother for dinner.  We discussed on the way to Church, we discussed while waiting for the Mass to begin, and we discussed on the way home.  We picked up my mother and we were still deliberating.  Where to eat?  Where?  To eat?  Such a profound question.  So fundamental.

Out of nowhere, I remember a radio advertisement.  Botak Jones’s new fully air-con restaurant opened somewhere in Balestier Road.  Inside the car, we quickly took out our wireless phones raced to search for the address.  We turned on Google Map.  In no time, we located the restaurant.

We seldom visit Balestier area, except that one time when I was hunting to buy a toilet seat, in board daylight.  Cynthia said the area reminded her of Jakarta.  As for my mother, Malaysia.  Botak Jones, to my best knowledge, started as a stall inside a hawker center serving authentic American food at a price comparable to other outdoor eatery stalls.  The tagline as I have later found out is: damn good food at damn good price.  That explains the T-shirts the staffs are wearing with the big logo “Damn Good” at the back.  The food is indeed pretty decent.  For burgers, I reckon the price is pretty good as well.  Around S$10.  My mother has ordered lamb chop and I, steak.  Ours were about S$20 each.  With two portions of mushroom soup (which was really good, or we were really hungry) and chargeable warm water, the bill came up to just over S$60.  I would say, Botak Jones serves pretty good food at a OK price, albeit the rather long wait for our food to be served.

Part Two – Lunch

In my current job role, I am not so used to having people lunching with me.  Hence, I often have my lunch alone.  It was seldom the case when I was working in town.  I always called upon friends from beyond my organization.  Since the office relocation, I have grown to enjoy the serenity of man-made lake and greenery, to treasure the time of my own.  I get to read books in a quiet space.  Or drive out and visit a library nearby.  Even lunch by the beach.  Recently, one friend of mine who works a few blocks away introduced me to a mall called Changi City Point.  You cannot imagine my excitement that day.

It is hard to describe the sheer pleasure in me when I first stepped inside.  A mall about ten minutes’ walk away from my office.  A mall that I did not even know exists.  It is quite a sizable mall.  Brand new, with garden (or rather oasis) concept.  Plenty of restaurants and cafes, outlets and there is even a music school.  Perhaps I shall take some drumming lessons during my lunch hours.  The food court in the mall offers cheaper and better food compares to my office’s canteen.  Pretty good food at a OK price.  My choice is obvious.  Better still, I get to have my healthy dosage of fresh air and sun and a good amount of walking every working day.

P.S.

The maps you see in this post are generated from Streetdirectory.com.  If you are from Singapore, Hong Kong, Malaysia, Indonesia, or Philippines, you may use their widget to spice up your webpage.  Right now, they are running a treasure hunt campaign.  Click here for more information.  If you do win an iPad and you – like every other people in Singapore – have already got one, please send it over.  Thanks!

My boss has been kind and understanding.  Over an early evening meeting, he said to us in all sincerity, “I know I should have asked you two to do this back in November.  But can we have a document in two days?”  Can Michelangelo paint the ceiling of Sistine Chapel in two days?  I suppose with modern technology, nothing is impossible.  I am thrilled by the occasional excitement at work, such as this.

This morning I had an early meeting to host.  I honestly cannot relate to someone living in a time zone sixteen hours behind us.  But early morning seems like a time humane enough to all the participants.  I popped out of my bed at seven, as usual.  Showered faster than usual, ironed my shirt faster than usual.  It took a titan’s will to say no to Cynthia when at a quarter to eight, she asked, “Do we have time for breakfast?”  We hit the road before eight, with empty stomachs.  In about a quarter of an hour, we arrived at Cynthia’s drop off point.  Wow.  The traffic was smooth.  Usually it takes us close to three-quarter of an hour to cover the same distance in rush hours.  Imagine the time and the highway toll we could have saved every day by not eating breakfast at home or by getting up earlier.  I know, neither of these is sustainable option for Cynthia and I.

It was a breezily cool morning, a rather unusual sight in our tropical country.  I was early, and was in a good mood.  So I grabbed a gourmet sandwich that cost S$4.20.  And I made myself a cup of Lipton tea in office.  That was my breakfast at work.

My colleague and I did not have two days to write that document.  Working in a bank, you would know that we have BAU stuffs to do (BAU = business as usual).  BAU work activities are stuffs that require someone to work on in perpetually, stuffs that ultimately justify our paychecks.  BAU are work items that when your colleague goes on leave, you have to work double hard.  So, with the BAU stuffs that we have to do, we only have half a day to write that document.  Can Michelangelo paint the ceiling of Sistine Chapel in half a day?  Fortunately, our boss is expecting a sketch, although deep inside, I feel that sketches should never leave the bedroom.  I was determined to delivery more.

So we worked in the speed of light today.  It was an exhilarating experience, as though I was motor racing with my colleague as my teammate.  Words got vomited out of our brains, spatted onto an electronic media, churned and reworked into a 15-pager.  We solidify chaos into order, vomit into a work of art.  At 5pm, we were still seated at a round table with I going all out in punching the keyboard.  She commented, “You must have a passion in writing.”  True, I said.  But I have a stronger passion to go home and have dinner with my family.

Today, I bumped into another colleague of mine.  And I shared with her that my 2-year old niece does not like to swallow her food, likes to store the food in her cheeks so much so that she looks like a hamster for hours.  What should I do?!  She laughed and told me that all babies born after 2008 do not like to eat, as though the new generation is aware of an imminent food storage due to our planet’s population explosion.  At first I thought she was joking.  But she was not.  She said her kid was the same.  So were her kid’s friends.  Time has changed.

What if, just what if, human beings are able to mutate according to the changing world?  What would trigger such mutation?