Friday, June 29, 2007


Spate of weddings recently. Can't believe I'm at that stage where I'm midway into my third decade of being alive on this earth.

I whine about my 15 hour workdays.

Well guess what? My liver, lungs, brain, heart, etc, have been faithfully serving me for the last 24.5 years, 24/7. Thats one tough job, considering my lifestyle or ex lifestyle of..nvm.

Gotta take care. Maintain the youthful (read youngish) looks that I get commented on pretty often. Ahem. I guess being pint sized helps. But girls nowdays say want the mature look. Well, ah, I can't be bothered mate. Plenty of time for that later. Now still look young, why not look young instead of trying to look old. Then when old trying to look young. In Mandarin it is called lao hiao, and that ain't me style chum.

Anyway..back to the topic at hand. So. Weddings.

Seeing all these weddings and stuff reminded me of my cousin sister and my own sister's weddings, where the bridgeroom goes to ze bride's abode and proceeds to (with the aid of his able buddies) fight through the huge stack of obstacles thrown at them by the giggling hordes of bridesmaids. Well I for one would not stand for it. See how unsporting I am? As a groom, all I want is my bride. I want me woman and I want her now. Come hell or highwater. To heck with all these things that stand btw us. Been waiting a shitload of time, ain't waiting a sec more.

So if I ever get married, big if now, I'm going to announce my arrival with a grand blaring of horns, assisted by the modified speakers of my sportscar (no traditional Mercedes for me Jose) blasting out some adrenaline pumping tune. Anyone looking for wedding trumpets can look elsewhere. Would love to come on a powerful sleek motorbike but considering that the bride doesn't alwiz get to dress up, wouldn't want to ruin her perfect makeup and watnot, right? Then, I'd hop outta the car, and go right on up.

Put a chair in my way. I'd hop over it. Put a table. I'd shove it aside. Put games and challenges. I've no time for it. No fun, thats my middle name. Shall barrage through all and sundry, stop at the door of my missus and bang on it. Open up baby!

At this point, the bridesmaids will laugh n squeal n watnot behind the doors n make me do/answer stupid ridicilous stuff. Well.

Very simple. Bring along a professional lockpick. Make him pick the damn lock while pretending to answer. And then march right in. If cannot pick, just give them warning, then kick down the damn obstacle (door) btw us. Nothing stopping me from her now, can almost smell and feel her soft hands. Heck care the crooning hens. Walk right in, plant a big long kiss on my WIFE, ignore and shake away the tearing hands at me (no Alex, it's not right!). Then lift her right up, and we'd go right down, pop into the car. And away we'd go, horns blaring.

Come to think of it, riding off on a white horse sounds good too.

Come to think of it, if her room had one of those adjoining toilets perhaps I could go in, snitch my wife away, and leave the hens there gaggling and crooning with my buddies pretending to be me and take her awayyy...

Yep. Not an ounce of romance.

Youth is wasted ... on the young..

Don Henley and his crew (The Eagles) … New York Minute.

Wonderful, wonderful start to the song. Cannot, just cannot, praise it enough. Fills me with the expectation of something good to come. And what comes does not disappoint.

Someone once told me. You know you are old when you start getting regrets.

I’ve always tried to live my life, as much as sensibly possible, ‘in the moment’. I’ve tried to live ‘without regrets’. But somehow that’s so much easier when you’re younger. When I was younger, everything seemed so easy. I knew instantly what I did or did not do would cause regrets later.

But as I look back now, I realize that there ARE regrets. Things I have or hadn’t done that I wish I should have or hadn’t. Of course I don’t blame or fault myself. Based on what I knew back then, I made the best decision possible. The only reason I have regrets now is that from then til now, things changed, and I know more. Without knowing what changes and what I know now, back then, I definitely wouldn’t have done what I realize I would have done now in hindsight with the mileage of experience n wisdom (reka don’t scoff).

I feel slightly robbed of my youth. Driftland said youth is wasted on the young. And u know what? He is bloody right. The young just don’t know how good they got it. What they can still do. You want to have lennon’s hair? Go for it babe. You want piercings? Right on. Want a tatt dude? University life. Where you enjoy some of the perks of being an adult without its associated responsibilities. Everything and anything is possible. A whole world of endless possibilities, everyday exactly the way as you would carve it. Your day your week your month your year your life like a beautiful glorious piece of .. brand new notebook or diary for you to fill any way you want. As I look at the insolent faces of today’s youths, who seem to be everywhere, I wonder if they realize they should be soaking in every goddamn moment of today coz before they know it, they will not be the young ones very long (elvis).

U wanna drop it all and run off somewhere – shant mention where- you can. You don’t think about savings, houses, career, car, health. You just … are. You just… do. Pure selfish hedonistic pleasures.

My shot of youth has come n gone. People older go but alex you’re not even 25!! You make it sound like you’re retiring. Yes I know I sound super dramatic and morose but the truth is, theres lots of things I can still do at 25 but theres also plenty of things that I want to do but that should sensibly only be done from 16-23 and any longer just makes me immature, irresponsible, unsensible and worst still, an old man trying to recapture youth n past glories, and whats more desperate or pathetic then that? A person sacrificing his future by messing up his present in order to re-experience his past. Theres a time and place for everything, and maybe, just maybe, it’s the same here as well.

I guess im just grumpy…let me gripe…look enviously at the youths of today…and then I shall continue to heavy heartedly turn around, look forward, and join the hordes of disgruntled, disillusioned workers, all marching forward to the beat of the capitalism drum, all sacrificing today in the hopes of a better tomorrow.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007



Sitting here blogging away, listening to Renee Olstead, while eating Malteasers, and next to me a cup of warm Milo, and a plate of crackers to dip it in the Milo, til it is slightly softish...

Oh joy!

Speaking of Malteasers..I remember I used to like v much those ads they used to show in Melb, of those 2 girls eating Malteasers and playing around...such carefreeness.

What a wonderful way to start the morning..! Reminds me of breakfasts at 2N10 College Scquare, with yogurt, banana milkshake and avocados, followed by long walks down Drummond Strt, oggling at houses, giggling at people, cooing over cute dogs, running from scary-ish houses, gawking at bearded Jews exiting from synagogues (rude, rude)...everything was nice and funny..we'd play blindfold 1 party and then the other party leads...required absolute trust. Fun.

How about big breakfasts after morning lectures? You know, where lecture goes from 8-9, then the next one is like 2pm..and after9am lecture its a GLORIOUS morn so I grab my free copy of the Herald Sun from Union House and head towards .. towards... I forgot the name of the street..oh but wait..there's another near the old FSC (Trinity Coll) with its creaky floorboards. So there I go, happily munching my big breakfasts with tomatoes, ham, bacon, sausages, eggs, toast, juice, while reading my HS and silently cursing Andrew Bolt.

Unfortunately, it IS a Weds morning..a working day...and I'm sitting at my desk. Downloading various reports. Well! Work beckons now. Instead of coming in sour and unhappy...shall change paradigms today and be all bouncy and happy and enthusiastic n raring to go.

C'mon VMI! Cmon export customers! Ain't scared of y'all.

Chemistry majors, please stand up

If I somehow slipped back in time, and met Mrs Tan, my Science teacher, I'd ask her, "Mrs Tan. What is chemistry?"

Recently this term has been bandied about quite a bit.

What is chemistry? How does one define it? Is it just being able to click? Being able to talk? Feeling like you totally have known each other for much longer than the actual fact? Is it sexual?

What does it mean when a girl tells a guy that there is no chemistry left?

Is it the end?


Been listening to Four to the Floor, Starsailor uncontrollably for some time now. Undoubtedly a star. When heard while watching the video, it makes me see myself in my beannie, Wu Tang jacket with hood and baggy pants trudging down the streets of Brunswick, or Fitzroy, or Nicholson, the resident gypsy enclave of Melb haha. Esp in winter. Graffiti all around. Miss my beannie.

Winter makes you depressed. So why am I depressed when I'm not in winter weather now. Perhaps the last 6 years of being in Melb has tuned my body such that I still get the winter blues though I'm no longer there.

Neverwinter nights...


By now most Melbournians would have heard about the shootings that took place a couple of days ago.
It is just somewhat shocking for an incident like this to happen in goold ol Melb, especially on the streets I know so well, featuring locations that are so familiar. Spearmint Rhino. Williams Street. Flinders Lane. Doubly sad is that the fatally wounded victim was the good Samaritan who went to help. A nice lawyer, from my alma mater. Father of 3. The other injured victim was a Dutch backpacker.

But what is really ticking me off are the spates of violent crimes closer to home, inflicted upon mostly members of 1 race. Rape and robbery is out of control, mostly inflicted by members of 1 race. Here is an exception to the case. But others who were not so lucky found themselves raped, and the boyfriend had his tendons cut.

Too much crime, too close to home, and not enough being done.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

A-ramble A ramble and away we go

A few weeks ago, while driving to my on-site project, amidst a heavy downpour, I saw this man who looked like he collected discarded stuff to recycle, pushing his heavy bike. He was covered in a plastic sheet, and so was his stuff. I was so touched I went down and offered him RM5 for his breakfast, which he gratefully took. Since I was holding my bottle of Livita, I also decided to give that to him. But it made me think.

Life's not fair. I think we are all mature enough to realize that. When I think about it, I feel grossly pissed off that I have been very unfaired to in many circumstances. But at moments like that when I am ready to explode, I think back to these downtrodden members of society, and during these moments of reflection, I realize, hey its not too bad. At least I got a job, a car, and need not do what he does. Ah...lifes tough. Whoever said it was easy anyway?

Like now. I just wrapped up an intense day at work which started at 8 30am and it is now 2am. Decided to blog a bit to vent b4 heading home. At the rate things are going...the amount of unfairness stacked against me is stupendously astounding I tell you. But you know, decided not to vent. Ultimately, we live in a free world, where we always have a choice. No one forces me to stay on here. I can leave anytime I want. So, either I quit, or I quit moaning. So decided not to moan. Its a policy not to moan anyway..when I do whinge a bit.. its like..I really can't hold it in..or.. its a momentary loss of control...or..hey, I'm human. I try not to whinge coz hey after I talk talk talk, I get back to the same point anyway, you still got to face the situation. And I don't like unloading my troubles on others. Don't know how to react.

In my prev jobs, I guess I knew all along it was a temp thing, or a stepping stone thing, so I had the luxury of knowing that anytime I wanted to quit, I could. Now, since this is a career thing, I realize I cannot do that anymore. V immature. Responsibilities, responsibilities...No fun at all. Life just sucks the juice out of ya sometimes u know? Like, trapped. If I could, I would just... just...selfishly heck care what my family thinks, be totally hedonistic, take my $ and flee around the world. But I can' to think of 'building ur career la' 'building ur savings' la..but it makes sense to do it. So I will.

But really, I'm a dreamer at heart. Always dreamed of going to Club Med and meeting this..this...different looking sort of girl, all tanned and toned...and we'd make fantastic love together and then decide to run away and have hedonistic fun. Travel the world and such. Even I, the hardy gross unrefined Operations guy have my soft spots and dreams. Maybe normally I make guttural sounds and refuse much interaction with people, and might even be socially retarded, poor me. Maybe she can't speak English very well, and we communicate by simple yet romantic gestures. Maybe her smile is so nice I forever want to make her laugh just to see that smile. Maybe a simple brush of skin on skin yields electric jolts up and down me spine. And we'd go for long walks on the beach amidst the setting sun, we'd go skinny dipping and leap off the jetty into the water at night, we'd lie in bed holding each other listening to each other's heartbeats. We'd travel to the UK and visit all those places I've studied/read/heard so much about. We'd go to the woods and climb trees, build hammocks and fall asleep, climb tree houses, swing off ropes into streams..We'd go to Chicago and visit the United Center. We'd go back to Australia, and camp outdoors in Central Aus while deciphering the constellations at night. We'd go to Japan and wander around Tokyo at night, visiting pubs, drinking sake and getting lost in wonderful places with names like Kobayashi, Mitzusoka...and she'd poke me and glare when I smile too long at a passing babe. And I'd wake to the smell of her wonderful smells, her hair, her soft skin, every morning, and then we'd climb out of the boudoir of satin sheets and walk to the windows and throw it open (this would be Italy or France) and peer down the window at the little lane below, where pigeons coo, men in caps cycle straight-backed while transporting loaves of freshly baked bread, with smells that waft up into our noses and make us hungry, and horses trot clitter clatter on the cobblestones, just like in Melb, while buskers start up their merry music.

But til I find such a being, who is able to inspire me to drop it all off and run, I guess I better remain practical.

Thursday, June 14, 2007

These good old days...

Am currently in the blackest of black moods, as my prev uber foul, profanity laced, supremely unhappy post can testify to.


But for keeping-to-my-policy's sake...still have to put up a post I written a few nights ago...

Which is darned ironic! Considering my current 'upset level'.

- - - - -

These good old days

It is 4am. I just awoke, and am unable to fall asleep again. And with sally in the background, these moments tend to take on awkward emotional dimensions.

I try to treasure these little moments. You never know when these insignificant moments today becomes the treasured yesteryears of tomorrow. Just like how when we think back we remember simple small details of the past that at that time we had no idea would be what they are now – treasured memories. In 3 years I might be working overseas, alone, and when I’m in my room at night, sipping a Brown Mont Blanc, listening to my Buddha Bar collection, I’d like to think back to my quick 2 years back in KL. Its been just 2 years, but a lot has been accomplished, though there could/should be more.

I’d remember my interviews with EY, working in KL, driving ard the city. Enjoying the drive to DHL Cyberjaya, learning from Jeanne (sexy sexy) Ambank’s recovery management program, tussling with Tarmizi from Ambank, seeing my successful compliance work for Macquarie and JP Morgan appear in the papers. My resignation. My time with current company. The midnight visits to DIET. Running the show in PMD. Staying with the boys til late in SMD. Setting up the plant in Ironriver and the feeling of ultra satisfaction of giving them back a yield of 99.5% (given target 90%) in 12 days (given target: 26). Nothing beats that. Reading about elves and dragonlords on the balcony in the hot afternoons while sipping iced tea. Walking the long haunted tunnel alone at night. Ahhh…

I’d remember the Zouk nights. The nights at Poppy. Passion. And who can forget, Ruums, b4 it got fucked over and the techno trance dance scene was altered yet again. Shuffling in Maizon. Disbelief at colleague’s behavior at Velvet n Loft. Great times at Luna. Looking forward to this wkend alredi – adding to the collection at UV Nation.

Singapore. Mosaic music festival. Relaxing in hotel room alone in bathtub reading Tony Parsons again. Shopping at Far East. Trying out wigs for a laugh. Chilling with the cousin. Q Bar overlooking the Spore river. New Asia Café. Checking out St James. Driving around Spore. Driving to Vivo. Sentosa again. No more bikes to rent. Wandering ard alone. Jazz @ Southbank.

The drives at night. Speeding along the highways, a ciggie dangling, good friends in the car, screaming out Livin on a prayer by BJ. All in falsetto along with ‘September’. Going to Jln Ipoh for midnight dimsum. First night at Alexis with Jwen. Avoiding Az’s royal cousins at Luna. Friends crying on my shoulder. Impromptu late night durian and soup session with J while keeping an eye out for dogs and bandits. More impromptu late night sober-up mamak sessions with J post clubbing. VG’s mental strength and tearfilled eyes n resolve. Hacking thru forests with the Emperor. Solitary escapades to The Curve. Drinking at One Bangsar. Birthday at Top Hat. Phuket. Mount KK! KB.

Concerts. And more. Much more. Shall restart my journal, a habit I stopped some time ago. Gotta capture everything, everything. Robbie Williams said youth is wasted on the young. No, in my case, it wont be wasted! Shall capture them all.

Appreciate appreciate…

Black Black Mood

Am at the office. And am super pissed. Positively seething black black mood and vibes. Stay away.

Well. The mood carried over from last night. Below post written during the peak of red rage last night..

Yeah great…things just keep getting worse and worse.

Work wasn't all pure snowflakes, but it was still within the tolerable range. Then personal relationships take a turn for the worse, and words were received that delivered pure daggers right into my core.

Came back from work at 11 plus, and THEN had a quarrel with the mother. I fucking hate it when that happens. It makes me feel very guilty and really wish it didn’t happen. I really hate it! Really wish it wasn’t necessary.

I have told her AGAIN and AGAIN COUNTLESS NUMEROUS times NOT to do such and such and yet she does it AGAIN AND AGAIN. I tell her nicely, I warn her, I threaten her, I tell her nicely again, don’t do it don’t do it. Repeated so many times. And tonight I really lost it. Yelled at her and stormed into the room and trembled/slightly teared into the pillows out of pure guilt. Why can't mothers just understand and listen and obey their children more? Instead of inspite of being told numerous times, but they must STILL go and .. do it.

I wish she hadn’t done that. I wish I hadn’t reacted like that. All I can do now is apologize, but I know oh too well the scar left behind in the fence even if we remove the nails from it.

Then to compound things, I realized I lost my portable music playing device. That cost me 600-700 RM I forgot which. And this is the second time. And both times not my fault – I had taken great care of it, not to lose it. I don't even have a clue how it could have happened, where or when. How the fuck did it happen? It is impossible! I’m beginning to suspect supernatural mischief. For fucks sake, I would have paid RM1800. Could have gotten …


Please pardon my French. An uncontrollable urge and desire to just scream profanities at the top of my lungs, again and again, beating against something solid and metallic, destroying it, hammering down blows on it, releasing and venting my anger and frustration. I hope a burglar comes tonight. I’m raring to go. The motherfucker will not leave without anything being broken. I’ve got my ex-locker metal bar and wooden hammer all ready to go.

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Some thoughts

Yesterday morning my mum was sick. Took her to hospital, where they took blood tests and gave her an IV drip. Then she was discharged. While all this happened, I snapped some photos of her. I intend to stick these up somewhere prominent so she is constantly reminded that she has to eat right and exercise and take care of her health.

Life is fragile, boys and girls. I do not like seeing my parents, who used to be my rock and pillar, being sick and old. I feel sad feeding medicine to my mum. I feel sad seeing her in pain.

Which is exactly why I have always harped on her to eat right, rest well, and exercise regularly.

Time flies. Much of it goes by in a blink. Make sure your parents are aware of these. Don't leave it til it is too late. By the time they regret, they would be robbed of their dignity. Sitting on top of chairs with in built toilet bowls. Peeing in their pants. Shitting in their pants. Needing to carry shitbags around. Being a shadow of their former magnifique selves. Needing their kids to change their soiled clothing.

If you love them, don't let them get to that stage. Do whatever it takes, be disciplined, be harsh. Then at least, though they are old, they still can enjoy their grandkids. And that would be them living out one of their life's ambitions. Thats the reason why they slogged hard n long n sacrificed much for us. And they can finally enjoy the fruits of their labour, playing among her grandkids, but only with health. And thats the greatest gift we can give them back. Love thy mother.

Male Chaunvinist Pig

I have recently been labelled as a:

1) slight control freak
2) egotistical Chinaman
3) MCP.


I do not think I am a control freak. I suggest things. I don't INSIST or COMMAND things. I don't have that right. I feel wronged!

I am not an egotistical Chinaman who is old fashioned. Those types are the kind who believe women are incapable hence their opinions don't matter etc etc. I'm totally opposite. I value the opinions of the women in my life very much. I think women are v capable. Heck, I was raised by my mum since I was 5.

I am not an MCP. I merely think that it is only right and gentlemanly for the guy to drive the girl around, to at least offer or insist to pay for meals out, things like that.

I do go Dutch. I don't mind being driven by a girl but I feel that is a bit like taking advantage of them and its not v nice. I do not endeavour to justify myself or defend my actions because I see a lack of necessity for it.

But I have seen MCPs, ctrl freaks, and ego people (either too much or too little) and I do not think I am so.

Long Distance Relationships

*Posted later but typed much earlier*

I am one of a close crew of 9. Never before in our history have there been so many of us in LDRs. Or been in LDRs. When it comes to LDR experiences, whether or not we are still together, as in some cases those mentioned below are no longer together, the bunch of us have quite of it to boot.

Lets see.

One HK gf.
One Sporean gf.
One Brunei gf
One Melb gf.
One UK gf.
One Aus gf.
One in Sg but a M'sian gf.

That is 7 of us currently in LDRs!!! Out of 9. And of the remaining 2, 1 is unattached. Thats a strike rate of 90 over %.

LDRs are not easy. Most LDRs fail. You need a few key elements to sustain it.

1) Genuine desire to want it to work, hence willing to do what it takes, including make the sacrifices.
2) Equal amount of desire on both parties.
3) Maturity.

If LDRs fail, it usually is because of either of these 3. Some people say otherwise like oh but I need someone who is physically there, or I whatever. Blah blah. As far as I am concerned, if you wanted that person enough, you'd have thought it worth it to do whatever it takes. Anything else means you don't love him/her enough to do what it takes, bottom line, end of story.

A few of us have been/are in LDRs. And we do share some stories. Yet now they go and get involved. In LDRs, a few things must be very clearly discussed. What is the end game? Where is their ultimate destination? If both parties can agree on 1 place, i.e. 1 of them has to relocate, then all fair and good. But if neither can see themselves uprooting, then obviously its a dead end street, so don't wade into it. Tough, tough.

And the party who doesnt uproot might forever feel guilt or whatever that the other party is making that kind of move. It really requires some degree of fortitude. And if one chooses to walk away, one always thinks, did I just walk from my One?


You can say anything you want. But you have to say we were champions. You can say anything you want. But you can't call us losers. You can say anything you want. But in the end, we were the last men standing. We were the winners.

The trophy
I remember quite vividly. The year was 2000. The venue was Albert Park. The occasion? Trinity College Basketball Tournament. One of the highlights of my still short sporting career.
We started off down by one man. We ended up winning it all. Big Ben, grimacing in pain as he got up from the floor with his twisted ankle, giving it all he had, in the final. Stan, with his wild hair flying, knocking down shot after shot, and sticking his middle finger into the opposition after. Michael, with his fierce disposition, flying downcourt while screaming DEFENSE! Darren, neutralizing their best player, and driving fear into the enemies' hearts. Richard, and his game-closing layups. Eugene, gobbling up every fucking rebound. Me, darting around, getting assists and pushing the ball on the break. All in black, cut off sleeved shirts and headbands, intimidating the hell outta the enemy.
Satisfaction indeed, when we held the trophy aloft. And when some immature S'porean army wannabe messed with Eugene, how our entire team was up in arms and normally placid Michael unleashed a stream of Cantonese profanities while throwing off his warm up jacket ready to wade into the fray. And Stan saying Fuck You each time he nailed another jumper. And Darren in his MJ imitation dropping in shot after shot. And Eugene wrapping his arms around me telling me to calm down and ignore the blatant fouls and testicle shots and then dropping the guy flat on the floor who did it to me the next time he challenged Eugene. And the celebratory dinner where Big Ben showed up in crutches.
The best part was how we had the most boisterous, biggest, international, vocal and prettiest fans. Our fan crowd was amazing. We held one team to.. get this... zero points.
I would go into battle with them again anyday.

Palmerston - HOME COURT

This is the Palmerston Street Court.

My home in Melb for 7 years

I think back to the Palmerston court days in Melb. That was our home court. And we defended it with pride, with honor. We never could take losing without a fight. Some of our hardest toughest battles, where both sides retreated with mutual respect, was done on this court.
Against the black guys, the white guys, the latino guys, the asian guys. This was our home. This chained fenced piece of asphault - this was us. No one can come it and claim it without first going through us. This was our turf. If they entered it, it was at their own risk.

Those were the days. I miss it. I yearn for the moment. The contact. The team spirit. Winning as a team, each man doing his part. Teammates making you proud. Teammates covering for you. Individually, we are good players. Together, we are champions.
No deception. No trickery. Step between those lines, and you are exposed for what you are and what you have.
I miss our Palmerston Court. The spirit of teamship with my teammates, the common goal, the killer instinct, going for the kill, never easing on the gas pedal, each with the same grim look, determination, same sense of purpose. On the court, we learn many of life's lessons, about human nature, and man, and each person's character. So many of life's lessons, cruel and kind.

A man's game

"Yo. This is a game. This is a man's game." - Xavier McDaniel, New York Knicks
"If you can't take the heat. Get out of the kitchen." - Some other guy (haha)

Thats me in the yellow shorts

I thrive on the competition of sports. I thrive in competitive environments that require some blood letting, pride on the line, mano a mano, violence, adrenaline, action, muscle, testesterone, power, speed, aggression, skill, physicalness. I thrive in situations where you absolutely have to deliver, the game is on the line.
I love the thrill of being in competition, where the game becomes v simple: Put the basketball in the hole and stop the other guy from doing so. First to 11 wins. Must win by 2. Always. And you forget the aches, the pains, the body blows, totally numb to it, and you are so in tune with your body.
And when you are in 'the zone', 'the moment', where everything else is blurred and narrowed and totally blocked out, when you are tied 10-10, its a deuce game, first to score 2 wins, and we r bloody and scarred, wounded, can taste blood in our mouths, arms bearing the scars of the battle, and our concentration is totally focussed on just one thing: VICTORY. And you are holding the ball, and your team's fate. And the opponent looks you dead steady in the eyes, eyes locked on yours, arms and legs in a defensive stance, equally determined to stop you. When life is basketball, and the rest are details. When you are running on pure adrenaline, heart pumping and racing, every sense alert and heightened, and the game slows down, and you can read movements and positions and intentions like an open book. THAT, my friend, is one of the things that Life is about.
And when you are in 'the zone', everything you touch turns to gold. You are King Midas. You feel the ball sticks to your hand like a yoyo, obeying your commands instinctively. You see plays happen before they do. You have a sixth sense of where to pass, where your teammates are. The hoops feels big. Everything you toss goes in. Your confidence is sky high. You know one thing: they can't stop you. You communicate with your teammate via eye contact. You sense frustration in them. You know they are intimidated. They smell fear. And you know you are in their heads, and you have them where you want them, where they will make mistakes. And then you get them to a stage where they start scolding each other. Or your defender doesn't want to mark you and switches with his teammate. And when they resort to dirty tactics and hard fouls. I just sneer and shrug it off. This is a man's game. You can be what you want, but I will beat you. Fair and scquare. And if I really hate you, I will even tell you what I am going to do, and you still can't stop me.
Thats what its all about. I can't understand how some guys cannot appreciate and partake vigorously in sports, especially basketball, the disrespected sport, where futsal rules. No knock on futsal. How can you be a guy if you are not into sports!? Not very manly! Come on, get btw the court lines and lets play ball, show me what you got. Lets sweat, lets bang, lets knock each other up a bit.

I get extremely pissed off when a teammate does not show heart, or does not show intensity, or does not play defense, or is a pushover, or is a walkover, or does stupid things with the ball. Where is your pride my man? Where is the PRIDE, that sense of 'you ain't getting this on me pal'. URGH. It happens from time to time, when you are playing hard as fuck and your teammate isn't pulling his weight in defending the other team and they exploit that again and again, and its tough to score and your teammate is gifting baskets to the enemy.
Why am I suddenly bringing this up?
Well, I used to be a bball afficionado, but due to various reasons such as injuries, availability, time constraints, etc, I stopped. And it was disheartening to play again and get schooled by people you know you were better than. Recently been trying to play it regularly again, with my boys, now that we are mostly back. We used to travel around, trying diff courts, seeking the best opponents. Now we are out of touch, out of sync. But we are slowly getting there. And its been great, been real fun, to slowly improve as a team, and start defeating the guys who used to defeat us. And we knew all along we were better - we just needed to get our timing, touch and fitness back. Last couple of weeks have had some good games. And this has spurred us on to play more together, to get back as close as poss to where we once were, and reclaim past glories.
This stuff might be taking it too far. But then, it just means you don't understand.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

I. Love. Sally.

I went to Sally Yeh's concert in Genting. Who is she?

This is Sally Yeh.

She is intelligent. She is spirited. She is active. She is spunky. She is funny. She is lively. She is warm. She is nice. She is pretty. She can dance. She likes sports. She has character.


She can sing and dance to fast songs.

Yet be versatile enough to perform soulful heart warming ballads.

She does up her hair the way I like it. See that high ponytail!? Shudder.

As a kid, I used to hear a lot of her songs thanks to my mother being a big fan. So when I heard she was coming down, I decided to surprise my mum and then drove her up to Genting for Sally's concert. She was fantastic!!! She was very funny, joking non stop, witty jokes, and poking fun at her husband. Her singing is v good, as she can sing just as well as Whitney Houston (she covered I Will Always Love You), Celine, Memory from Cats, and Ricky Martin's Livin La Vida Loca, among others.

She grew up in Canada, so she is very Western oriented, and speaks English with a very sexy accent. Her Cantonese is also spoken in a very sexy accent. She can't read or write Chinese, relying on people to translate the Chinese characters into phoenetics. Like me! At her concert, I could feel her genuine warmth, her niceness. And to top it off, her crowd engagement is fabulous. She asks them up on stage to dance with her, to hug her, to sing with her, she goes down from the stage and marches AROUND the arena, AMONG the audience, right in the midst of them. Which star does that? I've been to a few concerts in my time and none have done that. OK. Enough gushing.

Her love songs are RIGHT UP THERE. So it was great to just sit there...and bask in memories as the music washed over me. Then I realized someone nearby was waving distracting stuff and I looked over and my mum was waving the yellow giant hands they gave out. She was really enjoying it.

Thats my mum.

And this is me.

A great night.