Hypocritical?

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Same Same but Different? But of course, we should bear in mind that Lighthouse bases its teachings on very tangible manifestations of the spiritual - healing and such.


Chant. Tongues. Chant. Tongues. Same Same but Different, one can argue. And I might not know much about Buddhism, but Fuck la, that dude knows jackshit as well. If posting some racist comments on blog/facebook can result in one being charged .. what should happen to this Pastor Rony? Is this another manifestation of God's divine protection?

Help.

Update: http://www.channelnewsasia.com/stories/singaporelocalnews/view/1036451/1/.html

if

if(self.skillSet() == softwareEngineer.brilliant())
{
self.setEmployer("Google");
} else {
while(success.rating != OBSCENE) {
self.fightSloth();
self.figureSomeShitOut();
}
}

Dream

"If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them."
- Henry David Thoreau

Fatigue

I'm so tired. Now, don't go saying "There's no rest for the Wicked"; I've been good. I've just been so swamped with work and school that I hardly have time to breathe.

Climbing has unfortunately taken a backseat. Dinner is usually horrible Shaun-cooked food, save for the occasional steak that I pick out at the supermarket to treat myself.

The Rockstar mentality of start-up culture has rubbed off on me. I actually look to do things outside and beyond my job scopes. Yes, scopes, plural. The fact that I'm an intern, and a lowly paid one at that, doesn't seem to stop me from doing so. Perhaps that's a good thing. I came here to shake out the perpetual sloth that has been bogging me down, and so far it seems to be working.

I'm just .. tired, man. I'm gonna crash. Good Night, folks.

Here's a totally unrelated picture to show that yes I'm alive and it's actually pretty nice out here.

Disjointed Verbal Diarrhea

I postulate that at the basest level, a male harbors desires to gain carnal knowledge of any attractive female he encounters. In every other species, the male's success pretty much boils down to how strong he is in relation to the female or his other male counterparts. Our kind however, is bound by other factors much more intricate than mere strength.

Coercion, is naturally (or perhaps unnaturally) frowned upon in most societies and there are explicit laws dealing with that. It's boring for the most part unless you consider the mock rape that so excites some of us.Moving on.

An attractive girl should banish all hopes of purely platonic friendships with males of our species. In fact, given that attractiveness is relative, it is plausible that every single woman has around her males who whether consciously, subconsciously but never unconsciously, want to sleep with her.

Of course, such lustful thoughts might, ironically, facilitate friendships between the sexes - a guy harboring even a remote thought of somehow bedding a girl will be a lot more accommodating to any idiosyncrasies she might have. For example, a hot girl can throw a hissy fit, and the guys around her might smile indulgently or at least find it somewhat acceptable relative to how attractive they find the girl. Let a whale or equivalent do the same, and you'll observe very different results. Of course there will be whale-lovers or equivalent around these girls who'll display similar accommodating behavior because hey, Lust is for everyone.

With that, we come to the intricate factors that stop a male from carrying out his desires - be it sleeping with a friend, cheating on a partner or randomly copulating with consensual females.

That'll be material for another post, another time, provided I don't get lynched for this.

Decisions

I make bad decisions.

First, I procrastinate far too much. As usual, laundry time's when I'm down to the last pair of boxers - the one I'm wearing - and no fresh bath towels. And of course I had to wait till 11pm before reluctantly dragging my ass to the laundry room. It would have been an hour and a half affair though, if not for the washer deciding to break down on me and not finish the rinse/spin cycle.

This happened to me a couple of times back in Sheares but then laundry was free there and here it's $1.50 per load. A smart thing would be to run clothes through another wash cycle in a different machine, but this time, as I did in Sheares, I chose to dump the whole lot in the dryer instead.

There're two problems here:

1) The clothes are dripping wet and would never dry with the normal dry cycle.

2) The rinse cycle didn't complete so the clothes are still soapy.

Where does this leave me? Waiting for soapy wet clothes to dry in the dryer. Bah.

Similarly tragic decision making accompanies my car. The first was to drive over 400 miles to San Diego instead of flying. The second is to allow the fuel to run low, and the next to rely on the GPS to locate the nearest gas station. What followed was 15 miles driving South, North, then South again on the I-5 highway before eventually running flat out of gas and rolling to the road shoulder 40 miles from Kerry's place in San Diego. Fuck the GPS, and fuck my life.

I spent the next hour keeping a wary eye on the side mirror as I saw gazillion-ton trucks wheeze past me at over 70 miles/hour and feel the road rumble every time they past. Kerry eventually came with a galleon container of gas, I started the car, drove 8 miles and lo and behold, a gas station. If I had ignored the damn GPS and just driven on, I would have hit that, and save myself the other headaches to come.

Car Education 101 - old cars have gunk lying on the bottom of the fuel tank that minds its own business mostly, but let the tank run dry, and the fuel pump sucks up said gunk and totally fucks up the fuel line. That resulted in a $400 fuel pump and filter change, but not before I brought it to another workshop where they misdiagnosed the fuel line problem but found a problem with the brakes instead. That was $400.

$800 in repairs later on my 18 year old Miata, I decided to sell it. Posted an ad, got a response, but blew it off cause well, it was running along just fine after the repairs and I love my car too much to let it go.

Took it for a 100mile each way drive to Pebble Beach. Many beautiful pictures later, my clutch's now loose. No idea what the problem is but a couple of google searches seems to indicate either a master or slave cylinder problem. Bah. Taking it to the workshop tomorrow.

Take a look at this picture though, and empathize please with my love for the Miata.

Sunset

Still Alive

Will post again when I find something meaningful to write about. Or if I get bored shitless.

Stupidity Personified

Cashier: ID please.
Me: -offers Singapore driving license-
Cashier: We can't take this.
Me: Why? Because we're not a country? -trying to convey both irony and incredulity-
Cashier: Yeah ..
Me: -Realizes that the cashier's seriously dumb.- ..It is a country.
Cashier: Where is it?
Me: Asia.
Cashier: Nope, sorry, no can do.

-Back again with passport-
Cashier: Nope sorry, company policy.

Hannah

I got drunk last night, woke up at 9:34am this morning, and drove 20 miles to church.

The pastor was apparently in the middle of a character study series and today's was on Hannah, Samuel's mother. I vaguely remember hearing that story a long time ago in some church or another but the message this morning was exceptionally good. It was about suffering, and finding peace before being delivered from that suffering. Let me try to reproduce as much of its content as I can. Forgive any inaccuracies - I sat through the sermon in a state of very recent inebriation.

Hannah was barren. This was in a time when a family's economic prosperity depended a great deal on how many children you have as having more children meant more free labor to work on the farm. A woman's role in those days is mainly that of a mother and a nurturer; she would be almost useless if she was unable to conceive.

Her husband loved and doted on her, giving her double portions of food, etc, but she was still miserable. The provocations of a rival(that was the translation on the slide, I was too lazy to fish out my iphone) didn't help, and when she was praying in the temple, Eli the priest thought she was drunk and reprimanded her. Priest fail.

To sum it up, she was depressed to the point where she stopped eating and spent a great deal of time wailing. One day she decided enough was enough, walked to the temple, and prayed to God asking him to open her womb and bless her with a son, saying that if he does so, she would dedicate her son to the temple and no razor shall ever touch his head. The first thought that came to my mind was that she was simply bargaining with God, like what a lot of Christians do these days - Give me a promotion and I'll double my tithes. Grant me economic success if I give liberally to my church so my pastor can play polo and own half of east coast park.

The pastor went on to say just that - that some of us might think that she was bargaining with God, but the difference is that when people bargain with God, they do it mainly out of self-interest, whereas Hannah promised to give her son entirely to God. The pastor explained that sending one's son to the temple was almost like sending him to Jedi Academy; you essentially lose a son. I might argue that she still retains a certain measure of self-interest, that her rival would finally shut the f up, and that her pride would be somewhat restored. But I shall let that pass.

The key here is that immediately after praying, she was at peace. She went to eat, and her face was no longer downcast. That's the message I guess, that we not find peace after God delivers us from our suffering, but at the moment you commit the issue to God's hands.

Obviously, God answered her prayer, she bore a son, named him Samuel, sent him to the temple where he was witness to another episode of Eli's Priest-Fail, and became a great prophet for the Lord.

I didn't stay around after church to mingle though; my head weighed a ton, my mouth tasted and must have smelled, of stale alcohol, and I was starving. I'll head back to the church again soon enough.

The Birthday Entry

I recently passed the quarter mark in life; assuming I live to be a hundred, which incidentally, I've no desire to do. Alright, maybe a better way of putting it would be - it has recently come to my attention that I've lived a quarter of a century, a suitable point to look behind my shoulder and admire the messy trail left in my wake.

I paused a second to light a Parliament and collect my thoughts. Great brand of smokes, by the way, pity they don't carry them in Singapore. Yes, let's start there. I had my first smoke with people I regarded, and still do regard, as my closest friends. They've been my anchor and my toe-hold on sanity as I made my way through life. There for me when at 15 I called one up on the phone in the middle of the night in tears, heart-broken upon hearing that the only girl I thought I could ever love got together with another boy. There for me some years later when the people around me thought of me as little more than a superficial asshole.

It's fortunate for me, that they're not alone. I've friends whom I treasure, whom I pray hold me as dear as I hold them. Without them I would be lost, and though right now I'm physically over 8000 miles away from them, I'm thankful that I can call them friends.

Another break, while I walk back into the apartment to grab a Kirin and light another Parli. Beer and cigarettes. I get the impression that people generally regard me as frivolous and undependable; the go-to guy when one's looking for shits and giggles for sure, but not someone one can trust. I used to pride myself, in my younger days, on having what I thought was emotional maturity for my age, and on being a good listener. Today, I'm not so sure.

A healthy dose of cynicism is now replaced by an almost utter lack of faith, in love, and in God. I used to believe unwaveringly in God, now I turn to Him only in dire straits - like when I'm caught in 1 inch/min traffic with a terribly upset stomach. I used to love, and love unreservedly. That mutated into the mantra "love, but express that love sparingly". Now the very notion of romantic love turns my stomach and empties the mind. I see success stories around me of course, and I don't discount them. I just don't see it happening to me.

It might sound a tad melodramatic to say something like that, but I guess it's a series of poorly made decisions and episodes of barking up the wrong trees that got me where I am now. I started down the slippery slope after the girlfriend who cheated on me and, I assert, made me lose my marbles. Efforts at regaining a foothold have been complete failures, accelerating my descent each time it happens. I still cling on to a silver of hope, that I'll be able to approach whatever comes next with a little more De Profundis and a lot less Picture of Dorian Gray. We shall see how that works out.

I've stumbled through life shackled to both sloth and nonchalance. I found within myself not a lack of ambition but the distinct abhorrence towards the work involved to get there. I've made rash and misguided trades in both the equities and currency exchange market and lost what to me is a princely sum. Together with friends, I've built elaborate castles in the air but failed to materialize any of them into concrete business ventures.

Through sheer luck, divine blessings and short, inconsistent spurts of diligence, I find myself now an undergraduate in NUS having gone through an exchange program in Canada and now participating in one of the more prestigious programs the university offers - a year long internship in Silicon Valley. What I do from here is almost entirely in my hands; whether I skirt-chase, booze, blaze and bum my way through the year or turn my life into something I can be proud of.

This seems like a pretty good note to end this post on. I've work tomorrow, and if I'm going to make something of it, I need to bring my A game. There are many things in my life I need to work on, and not skiving at work's a good start.

Peace.

(Almost) Reckless Abandon

Symphony.

Trying to keep oneself from feeling is like trying to contain a spider in a cup; the spider will relentlessly climb up the cup walls and you'll find yourself constantly rotating and flicking the cup to keep it in. Okay, perhaps that was a bad analogy. There's a reason why cliches become cliches - because they hold elements of truth.

Let's try it again. Trying to keep oneself from feeling is like holding water in an unwaxed paper cup. Sooner or later the water soaks through, and the paper breaks.

The bible talks about building a house on sand. When strong winds come, the house crashes. Foundation's important - build a house on solid rock and not on sand, says the Lord our God.

I should stop trying to run marathons drunk. Or launch off floating driftwood in a swamp.

Excuse me for now though, while I go retch in a canal.

Advertorial

Here you go, Amy.

Online shopping with a cute model here

Such a lovely place, Such a lovely face

It has been three weeks since I came to California. Predictably, I'm not done unpacking; there's still stuff in my luggage and scattered around my mattress on the floor. Apart from that I'm pretty much settled though. I've started work, got myself a car, got the car insured and registered, bought furniture, ensured a steady supply of beer at home and cooked a couple of times.

I'm still waiting for the Bank of America to send me my debit card that they promised to send 5 working days from the day I applied - 27th July. Heck, even the social security administration's more efficient; I received my social security card in the mail today. This means my company can start putting me on their payroll, and that I can get a cell plan and a new phone. It ain't cheap though, and weighing the benefits of getting an iphone 3gs and the cost involved is giving me a headache.

There's so much to say but I'm tired and I've work tomorrow. Ironically, although I'm the only one among my housemates who has a car, I leave home the earliest. Parking in Palo Alto is a bitch, and if I arrive too late at the Caltrain carpark, I don't get a lot and am condemned to shifting my car every two hours from zone to zone (there's a free parking limit of 2 hours per zone) until sometime after lunch when I can try my luck again at the Caltrain carpark.

There's an awesome climbing gym less than 5 minutes from my place that offers fitness and yoga classes as well. I tried the "Abs and Core" program and will probably do yoga this week. The climbing facilities are fantastic and I've made a friend. I wish you guys were here though.

When I sit at home and sip good beer, when I cook, and when I take in beautiful sights I wish the people back home could be with me, for life can only be truly enjoyed in the company of friends.

Yes, I know this post isn't very well written. In fact, I find myself second guessing my tenses and grammar these days. I need to read, and write a hell lot more.

Drop me a message every now and then, friends, life isn't the same without you.

Mine :)

I went car shopping today. Of course by that I meant calling people up on craigslist and going down to see the cars, not waltzing into car show rooms like I've a fat bank account - which I don't.

Saw a Mazda 626 first. The seller was this mexican guy who runs an auto shop. Pretty new, only 73k miles on it. Decided to continue searching.

Went up to Daly City, saw this fun looking but impractical car.

Continued viewing cars but couldn't get the impractical car outta my mind.

So ..



Yep, I got it. a 1991 Mazda MX-5 Miata.

High School

I was going through the remarks made by my form teachers during secondary schools, and thought them pretty amusing. Let me reproduce them here verbatim:

Secondary 1:

Sem 1: Disappointing Results. Has performed poorly. Good work attitude but failed to achieve good grades. needs to work very hard to pass the final exam. (is she implying im hardworking but dumb?!)

Sem 2: A capable pupil. Has potential (that's more like it.)

Secondary 2:

Sem 1: Shaun is capable of better performance (yawn)

Sem 2: Shaun is capable of better performance if he is not so complacent. He must put in more effort in his Maths and Chinese. More time should be spent on his studies rather than the internet.

Secondary 3:

Sem 1: Does not respond well to advice and corrections by teachers and needs to show more interest in class (Note: she was boring as hell.)

Sem 2: Disappointing results probably due to irregular attendeance. Hei s (sic) at times is late for school. Shaun needs self-discipline to pass his "O" levels next year. Essay Competition (3rd prize)

Secondary 4:

Sem 1: Shaun is under performing. He needs to be more focused and disciplined in his work attitude.

Sem 2: An intelligent student who has the potential to do well if he puts his mind to it.

And that, folks, sums up my secondary school years. Haha.

Ouch

"Let us behave decently, as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and debauchery, not in dissension and jealousy." (Romans 13:13)

"But now I am writing you that you must not associate with anyone who calls himself a brother but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or a slanderer, a drunkard or a swindler. With such a man do not even eat." (1 Corinthians 5:11)

"Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God." (1 Corinthians 6:9-10)

"The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. I warn you, as I did before, that those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God." (Galatians 5:19-21)

Damn harsh la. Whatever happened to grace, faith, and forgiveness. Jesus ate with tax collectors. I'm hurt.

0.0001 Years

Whether it's prolonging sex before ejaculation, or waiting for marriage(or at least a sufficiently serious relationship), delayed gratification usually results in much greater joy.

I realized I've wrote myself into a corner at the very first sentence; such that I can't continue without either admitting I'm awful in the sack or be seen as bragging. But I'm sure you people get my drift. I hope.

Mother

There is no question that my mum spoils me. I wake up during my stays with her to find breakfast laid out neatly in what appears to be a mahogany tray, complete with two glasses - one containing fresh milk, the other juice. I walk to the bathroom for a shower and I see a fresh towel, boxers, and the clothes she picked out for me to wear for the day. By the time I am done showering, I enter my room to find my bed made and a pair of socks lying on the covers.

Yes, my mum spoils me. She's also extremely protective and is suspicious of any remote harm that might possibly befall me. The metro in Shanghai she deemed too confusing for me to navigate; this despite me having survived subways in Toronto, Chicago, New York and London. She gave me a little pocket map, and went over with me at least thrice the route I should take to get to where I was going, and how to get home, interjecting her sentences with "so troublesome".

And that's only the infrastructure. She's worried too that I might get knocked down when I cross the road, or pick-pocketed as I made my way around. "Watch out for pick-pockets" or "Watch your belongings" is something she says to me at least four times a day, and when she catches me putting a wallet in my back pocket she'll frown and indicate my front pocket instead.

To my mum, her son's made of marshmallows. She calls me when I'm out and tells me that it's raining heavily. She comes out to the station, ready to meet me with an umbrella least I get wet. She's worried I would get sick, and told me in all seriousness not to share drinks with friends. She's worried I would become an alcoholic, yet opens a bottle of beer for me at home during dinner because she knows I enjoy drinking.

Yes, folks, I'm spoiled rotten. The thing is, I don't live with my mum. Since the age of 4, I've been spending an average of of three weeks with her per year, with the duration decreasing after my teenage years. As a general rule, mum seems to perceive me to be half my actual age, subtracting a couple of years for good measure.

As I was growing up, she pampered and fussed over me to no end, and as a kid growing up more or less independently, it got on my nerves. We fought at least once a year, usually because I was impatient with her coddling and demanded to have my way or for her to stop treating me like a baby. Such fights usually ended with either or both of us in tears. I can only imagine, in retrospect, the amount of anguish I must have caused her. In attempting to assert some form of masculinity and maturity, I broke her heart.

Things took a turn for the better during the Shanghai visit before my Canada exchange. She was, naturally, worried sick that I was going halfway around the world and even more worried that I intended to drive. She asked incessantly about why I had to insist on driving, and whether I knew what I was doing, whether I was going to get lost/robbed/killed/get hooked on drugs/flunk out of school .. etc. I started ignoring her and would chat happily on msn while she talked to me. She flipped, and it wasn't a pretty sight.

I looked at her and realised that I had been a selfish, immature prick and that this woman in tears was probably the one woman who loved me more than she loved herself. I apologized, immediately. I then explained that I could take care of myself and that her nagging insults my self-perceived intellect and capability. She responded by saying I would understand how a parent feels when I have kids of my own, and that she nags me to make herself feel better, to assure herself that she's doing her part to keep her kid safe and happy.

At the risk of airing dirty laundry in public, I shall let on that my mum has been carrying around an immense burden of guilt - guilt at having "abandoned" her young son and missing out on his childhood. I understand that all these over-pampering and worrying is in one part due to her innate nature to worry, but largely due to her need to compensate for lost time. To cut the long story short, I told her that it is unfortunate that she largely missed my childhood, but the fact was that she was now mother to a 23 year old and not a 4 year old and so should focus on being a good mother to the 23 year old. I, on the other hand, shall attempt as much as possible to let her do and say whatever makes her feel better without blowing my top.

Things have been going a lot smoother since then. I do admit that I still get irritated, and sometimes channel my irritation into sublime sarcasm, knowing that chances are she wouldn't get it. Most of the times though, things are good. I let her pamper me when I'm with her, let her wash my clothes however often she wish despite my firm belief that clothes that I've only slept in for a few hours are good for another night at least.

I don't flare up when she insists on carrying the heavier bags after a round of grocery shopping. Instead I point to her forearm, and mine and genially ask, "who do you think is stronger?", alternating sometimes with "you have a son, not a daughter, make use of him." I let her nag me as much as my expanded patience allows. When the limit is reached, instead of yelling, I put one arm around her and say something like "I Knowwwww, Mum.", and she replied once "Just let me say can?", to which I replied "I let you say 5 times, now's the 6th time, let me show some irritation can?". And we laugh. Yes, things are definitely getting better.

At the end of the day, I go to bed with the comforting knowledge that my mum loves me. I can't help the fact that she loses sleep worrying about whether her son will turn alcoholic, start smoking (ahem) , experiment with drugs (slight cough), or have liberal bed sharing values but I can show her - as much as I know how - that I love her.

Anyway, this post is a result of me missing my mum after a 8 days stay with her in Shanghai.

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Now playing: Frank Sinatra - You'd Be So Easy To Love
via FoxyTunes