Morning Pleasure: breaking into a new day at East Coast

One of the joys of living in Singapore might be coming to the East Coast park at day break and catching the sun rising over the South China Sea and Singapore Straits. Just as well, any one might prefer the view out of their window where they are, or perhaps peering upwards from a coffeshop table or McDonald's outlet located in the heartland. But these days, one of my lifestyle perks is getting up before daybreak - a habit from my earliest working days after dropping a shift-lifestyle of irregular hours - and finding a great reason not to snooze and wake up three hours or more later. That one great draw for me used to be hitting the gym at the Hyatt. But recently renovated and re-branded as part of the international hotel chain's new Spa business, the fitness centre at Grand Hyatt Singapore is designed to meet the business traveller's needs and not those of an established base of life or period members. So, I dramatically lost the incentive to get up and get going. Instead, if I did not mind the mass-market madness or students, executives and muscle-Marys, the workout equipment available at California Fitness are ideal. It's a wildly different crowd of gym-bods and bodyworshippers which one will have to get comfortable with. Anyway, it failed to be a great reason to get me out of bed and going there. But the one reason I could get out of bed for was catching the earliest light off Singapore's east coast, at the park which ran all along the south-east coastline. I would either cycle, inline skate, stroll, jog (seldom, as I dislike hardground to run on), or best - get my 16 oz cup of Starbucks brew and hook up on the free Internet wifi access point and update my blog, clear my emails and best of all, watch the crowd come in and go. Now, I could only do this as a jobless bloke in a highly employed Singapore society. But the government has just revised the country's economic forecast downwards, with the GDP expected to be falling as well. So, I think I can expect more company for coffee hereafter, and safely consider that at least the sunrise remains sublimely glorious and always something to look forward to, even as I hog the same spot with my endless refills inside the coffeeshop while my computer struggles with catching up on my typing emails, blog updates and other literary triffle anyone might cared less for. Thus the only thing that forces me to wait these days are the queues for coffee and my Internet Explorer 8 beta that constantly reports "Not Responding" when what it really means (as with all Vista O/S applications), "Please wait as your software application is being processed by your CPU." Thanks to some engineer who wrote the codes and alerts but is not a great communicator, Microsoft now has this silly alert tagged on all its applications that say "Not Responding", which is a misnomer. The CPU eventually catches up and the application will not hang. What should have been used is what was used before: "Please wait." or "Your application is now running..." or "Please let your computer complete the last processes." or somesuch. No wonder so many good folks running Vista think it sucks. The application may be slow, but the alert tag vocabulary may have been written by an alien...

EAST COAST TO CHANGI BEACH: Contemplation Ride

Why do we take long rides on our bikes, at the burst of dawn? There are a whole lot of road bike enthusiasts who take to the East Coast service road at the break of the day and you can see them in groups in their roadie outfits and Oakleys. I once viewed these riders with disdain, because they were always so swift, so confident on their bikes, and sometimes, it looked like they defied all sense of gravity and care from the way they sped along. You get the sense the car drivers ought to be careful and these roadies might enjoy their right of way. Yet, too often, I find Singapore drivers not particularly careful enough about bike riders. They over take in the opposite lanes even when they have full view of the road bikes coming right at time in the opposite direction. One lorry driver did exactly this, and waved his hand in apology as he overtook, knowing fully well he was in the wrong. I wonder if he would be just as casual if he had knocked the bicyclist down - being in the wrong lane, at the wrong time. But any dead cyclist would never be able to defend himself. The law should be simple. Any collision with a motorcyclist or bicyclist by a motorist should by default put the latter at fault. Afterall, a cyclist or a motorcyclist is unprotected, and the laws of physics make it clear - these road users cannot instantly brake the way cars or larger vehicles can absord the kinetic energy and come to a quick rest. With ABS, more car drivers are becoming less and less aware of the need for braking distance. I was on the same park service road this morning and noticed a large dark blue Toyota Camry driven by a lady coming in from the Marine Parade flyover. She halted at the road turning into the service road - a required stop. But even as she could see my bike coming straight pass her, she ignored my bike and moved her car directly across my lane, then looked left to check for oncoming traffic. This was completely unsafe and improper but there were no cameras or traffic cop to make her aware of her bad driving habit. It seems that unless you are on a bike yourself, then only you get to notice these sort of bad driving habits. The current Traffic Police sponsored message to drivers is to "Look Out..." for other road users. Yes, but they need to add: "two-wheeled vehicles like bikes and other unprotected road users need time to brake and stop; motorists need to be careful to give them way if necessary". But the apparent dangers that these frustrating observations about dangerous road use behaviour aside, the thrill of being open to the wind and feel the raw speed envelop you as you get into gear and take off is one simple reason we all cycle. The dissassociative sights and sounds of the early morning along East Coast is a plus, and for some, the draw. Ultimately, if you have great machine, the efficiency technology brings to your experience is another draw. My TREK Project One bike is fitted out to make that an ultimate experience, and this morning, I found myself staddling the bike with the arrowbars and taking in the distance from East Coast to Changi beach via the Park Connector like a thirsty barfly quenching down his Guinness... Before long, I am at the familiar northern-most end of the bike trail, and turn south-east. At Changi beach, I must make pilgrimage and pause at bench no. 9, where I remember sitting with Jordan just two years ago, and thinking how peaceful the place was. At 9am, the tide reached the high of the morning, and the water became flat. Ideal for a sea swim, but I will save that for tomorrow, perhaps. I looked around the area, and contemplated the peace, calm and cheerfulness. From the bench where we once sat together, I can see the very spot where out in the open waterway, we had put him to rest. The water is flat, this morning, broken only by the barges and water taxis (bumboats) that still trudge that way. The birds are busy chirping overhead, with the waves gently breaking on the shoreline, and I get this very pleasant sense of quiet joy and warmth - knowing full well, that the ones we love who are gone before us, must surely know a far better peace than even this which we can find here on earth.

ABOUT THOSE SAND TOOLS - DETAILS

About the tools Chris and I were using in the picture featured in my earlier post, I just needed to add some details about its material texture. Those kid's sand box tools were made of a soft rubber material in off-white cream colour, with lovely veins of maroon and grey spiralling through the instrument's handles. The rubbery feel has a very comforting touch which was soft and cool. It helped that things such as these were made to last as much as the technology and materials of those times would permit. Eventually, after some abuse, I remember those toys breaking, and it was with some fury. This is the sensory fact: people who decidedly throw such materials are eroding the memories attached to the very things we played with, wore and used. Unless we put some of these into the chests available in our hearts and minds, as treasury of happy memories and feelings to draw upon whenever we chose, we are destroying the gift of time and experience but removing useful aids to our recollection. The ancient Jews, we read in their bible, therefore were often urged by their prophets, to recollect through rituals and gatherings, readings and bodily scars (circumcision), to constantly put before them the experience of their ancestors in their covenant with God. For this reason, I think we need to know what we ought to keep, and not indulge in the premature fear of prolonged grief to remove all memory and sensory relics of the people precious to us. What I found disgusting was the way my mother's wardrobe and personal effects were hastily removed out of the house she lived in, and the people who were doing these had spent even less of their lives with her than I. Worse was to see my father passively stand by as this was done. It remains his nature to be stoic and passive about such things and it is a mystery how he must think - for I am not sure that he can clearly distinguish between the keeping of things with memory attached to it (sentimental value) and those which are kept with the hope of future utility (utilitarian value). Memory is a very vital human aspect of being. I hope those who care less about such might someday understand what it is like to care for another who suffer from Alzhiemer's where the brain wastes away and memory is stolen as the cells die off.

THIS SON ON THE BEACH - ANOTHER EARLY MEMORY

Here is another early memory I can put a date to because of notes made at the back of the photograph in my father's hand. It was 13 December 1967 at Tanah Merah. I remember this visit to Changi Beach, which had casuarina trees lining the roads and somewhere near the beach itself, there was an esplanade of sort, in concrete with steps cut inbetween the balustrades which ran down to the beach. The beach itself was a narrow strip of sand, and I remember it was already close to noon by the time we were allowed to "play sand". I was already on the wet sand when someone called from behind to get the spade, bucket and trowel. I remember that as the littlest, I had the trowel shoved to me, because my brother Chris knew better that the spade would be the right tool for digging. I could scrape the sand, and before long I could dig a hole. But I was easily bored and after a while, I felt it was pointless making a hole. But I looked around and could see a great many people strolling into the beach and having a splashing time. There was even some dark-skinned boys with a large rubber tube. I looked up to beyond the balustrades and remember the ice cream bells being rung by vendors, adults smoking with fashionable sunglasses on, and the best of all, where those spiny long frangipani leaves and flowers. I remember looking desolate and bored, and peered mostly down at my small Japanese togs or sandals. These were blue in colour, and white on the soles. They were still fairly new and I would wear these down in the coming year.

What struck me was that in the car drive to the beach, I remember the food packed for the picnic which was in the car booth, and sitting in the new plastic of my father's car which had a transparent cover. Oddly, while I know my mother was around, I never could remember seeing her at the beach picnic itself, just my brother Chris, father and some of his friends (or colleagues?).

But this was to be just one of several visits to the beach. When I was older, I remember strolling and collecting shells and bits along the wet banks at low tide off Bedok beach. It was late in the afternoon circa 1970-1, and a sharp piece of shell pierced my right sole, and embedded itself there painfully. It took my mother's firm hand and a heated needle to eventually free the debris from under the skin, and blood oozed out. Instead of more pain, the relief was so immediate that the pain of extraction was overcome and forgotten.

I like to imagine that all little children would love to have their memories back if they could; I think that way because I recollect many of my earliest memories with clarity and unusual vividness. These are a treasure trove in my mind's urn, pearls and gems to be cherished till my own mind will fail and all things fade to dust. These, little those stars in the opalescent night, shine still suite bright and are constellations in my recollections of my happy boyhood, and a caring mother's hand ever nearby to comfort, heal and nourish.

A BIRTHDAY AND A HOLIDAY - SIX TO FORTY-FOUR, AND AS EARLY AS THREE

I had a happy birthday, day before yesterday, and it was a good one. You tend to think of special days and holidays as "celebrations", often associated with a gathering of friends or family, or food and drink, gifts and going to places you want to remember or re-live. It is about creating new memories and recollecting great ones. The first birthday party I ever remembered was when I was six (1970), just after my brother Chris, and the cake was baked by our mother. It was the same rainbow butter cake - except my brother Chris had more chocolate veins and mine had strawberry veins with chocolate. The cake had butter icing on it and I remember how she had baked it the day before, and in the evening got down to the icing on a smallish nickel cake stand which could be rotated. She had made trellises on the edges, and down the sides in lines, careful to add the hem at the bottom last so that it would be over the others. Then there were silver sugar coated balls, like ball-bearings, which she had dropped as pearls on the top of little buds of icing she had put all around the cake. There was even a silver cake board, which for some reason I associated only with bought cakes. So, even as I was puzzled about this detail, I imagined my mother's cake to be as good as any we would have bought from the store. Perhaps, just being six years old then, I would have already sensed that something we bought with money cost more than something we made at home. I loved the butter cake or pound cake as she called it, and when she had done with the icing, Chris and I could lick the spatula and brown ceramic icing bowl clean. Then my mother would put the cake, all dolled up, on the cake stand which would sit on an inverted saucer in a plate lightly filled with water. This was to create a moat trap for any wandering ant, while the large food net with a wire loop would keep the flying bugs away. The following day, in the afternoon, the furniture around the house would be re-arranged for the party, which would be my first. Arrangements would be quite the same as Chris', and I would now be quite prepared for what will take place. There would be orange squash, and we would all be dressed up, my hair slick with Brycream, or some greenish goo from this Lavender brand which came in a small pumpkin shaped fluted jar with a round gold cap. Fortunately, I had a keen sense of smell, and many of my early childhood memories are laced with smells I remember. Now, the other neighbourhood children arrive and there are two girls I like, and if you ever looked at the pictures, you need not guess which of them I liked more... But my earliest birthday memory was when I was just about three (1967), when Christopher celebrated his birthday. I knew it was his birthday because my father took a photograph of him first while I was held back behind the camera. Then after his shot was taken, I was gingerly positioned next to him, little and made akimbo, which was a really silly pose. But I was very happy and remembered the whole scene and on-goings. I remember the black-white striped pockets which I dug my tiny hands into. More importantly, I remember my mother's ployester blue dress with the little white embrodiery reindeer prancing around her like a carousel. It is very strange how these memories are structured, and we have vivid visual recollection of meaningless details while we forget other elements which might matter more. But it is important to recall that I was only 2 years eleven months old when these things took place, and I remember other details which I cannot put to a date without the aid of some evidence such as notes on an old photograph. Children will always remember their mothers on these special days; similarly godmothers and fathers on baptisms and so forth. My brothers who married - I wonder - will they remember also what my mother said and did for them, when their anniversaries come around, or will their own anxiety and those of their wives make up more of their recollections, and the small part actors are made up of the rest of us. Why do these memories matter? Perhaps, because in obvious and latent ways, we are made up of these influences. I did not cherish my birthdays as much now: for since I ever was, this is my first birthday without that other key player in my life, who was the key player in the drama 44 years ago in the old Kandang Kerbau Hospital where she was in labour for half the day. I remember my mother talking about the stitches she had just giving birth to me and I wonder about how she had endured giving birth to all four of my brothers and I, and possibly surviving the personal grief of a miscarriage or two. She is now gone; all too quickly. In the last seven months when she battled cancer and had to confront her own mortality, it left too little opportunity for us to ever talk or reminisce of these happier events we shared, even though my part in such times would be that of the minor, as I was indeed. A minor player in these parts, we who are less preoccupied by the roles and speeches, are often better spectators than players. I suspect this was to be so true that my own calling would become manifest when I found my own voice through writing.

Of Loyalty and Longing

I turned 44. Cosmically, it was at 2223 last evening, 1 October.

The age seemed less an issue after 40, and perhaps, because by then, most of your friends are hovering around the big Four-O, and cannot be too quick to solemnize your aging or mid-life phenomena. Fortunately, everyone is also aging better these days, and we are not popping off like flies because of cardiac arrest just three decades ago, like the typical Monday morning executive death syndrome. Unsaturated fat and an improved understanding of what that does is all to thank for.

This birthday, I noticed that the bulk of junk mail I greeted with glee (in lieu of opening absent presents), are the mass of loyalty mailers that flood at this time. "To celebrate your special day" one offered foot scrubs and food discounts all on the same page. Another tempts with 50% off full price items. Another, a $389 dollar fitness and spa deal at just $38. There is something superstitously convenient about those dollar numbers, if you are into numerology.

But the thing is that these stuff do work. A good deal is a good deal and all you have to decide is to let yourself be seduced into whatever weak motivation might exist for you to be "pampered" by a sale, a purchase, or another book on the shelf.

What was therapeutically positive was having envelopes in the mail which felt thick and solid, and from "leading brand names" that make you feel remembered, while especially knowing that these were not bills or from the credit companies. But careful there. If you are not careful, you will get to hear from those bill collectors, coming approximately one solar month after your indulgence to bring you straight back into therapy.

You might just long for that break from all this, right.

Well, here is the catch which we all learnt from the Screwtape Letters. The devil knows just how to turn the screw, and get us all aleaping into the fire from the pan. The belief is that we all "need a break", need a treat.

The trick - we have all yet to learn - is just to need less, and live less. Live with less. Can't be that hard, right. Well, when you do, you just find all these loyalty messages and mailers are just great jokes that come by annually, and take them for exactly what they are: automatically generated by some computer programme while using up some energy and material resources just to help the world's economic cogwheel which runs on vanity to turn one more round, and with your help in lending it the next turn. Is there an opt out option? It's in the longing, but meanwhile, we are like that tight spring within the heart of the whole mechanism of economic life that needs to give a twist and turn. Otherwise, like the wound-up clock, we will fall silent and forgotten, being of little "economic" use.

The Peaceful Warrior

1987, Hawaii. I was enroute to Los Angeles, when I was transitting Oahu. It is hard to give the great Pacific weather you get in Hawaii a miss. Not only was it plain magic, the freshness of the young land - volcanic, rising out of the middle of the ocean - gives you a sense of the catalysmic change constantly happening on the earth's crust.

There, on Ala Moana beach, I sat on the sun-bleached sands, and spend an hour in personal contemplation. What did I see, out over the wide expanse of blue before me? If life is made up of extraordinary moments, then those such as these are epiphanies. The few white sails far out, a few ships passing, and a whole lot of ocean. Then closer in, the endless crests of white waves breaking, wave after wave. The wind is louder in your ears than the waves breaking and ebbing on the shore. Then you feel the white heat of the sand, radiating the bright sun above. On the left, the high coconut palms in fraternal salute, their arms flailing and arching with the wind as the white water bursts on the breakwater below. People, now you see them, are busy with their own activities, Jogging, on bikes, and tanning in the sun, like me. I turn around and look towards the park behind me and at the looming Ala Moan centre and hotel. Sunlight is falling like bright snow on everything, bathing it with warm like the heaviest monsoon, but everything is dry, and illumined. It was then there that I met Rene de Chevrotiere, and our conversation brought us to a bright friendship where all this made sense. Life is about the journey, and the journey is the source of happiness, not the destination.

He passed me Dan Millman's "Way Of The Peaceful Warrior", and back then I did not fully see what influence this would have in my own journey, and what a ride that has been. Salute Rene, and merci. I wish your journey has been bright and full of light as mine has.

ABOUT HEAD - MY NEW RACQUET

It may sound like I'm making a racket about this racquet, but the HEAD Metallix S10 I ordered from World of Sport fell through and after run abouts with the merchandiser and their principals, all I was left with was "Er, the size you want 4 1/2 the prinicipal say they don't carry anymore as it is not popular." So, my option was for 4 3/8 and sprained forearms maybe. Then I get a call from the World of Sports staff: "Sorry, we ran out of stock." But I thought there was one at the store. "We only have s8 now, but the size is also not your size. The merchandiser say they don't carry 4 1/2 because it is not saleable." You know, I have been in sports retail before and all this is rubbish, unless we are only selling racquets to the very young and smallish people. These days, perhaps the bigger, taller tennish players must be buying Wilsons or Balolat and from Royal Sporting House or XXX sports shop at Queensway or Lucky Plaza! But the staff at this World of Sports outlet was trying very hard and her perseverance deserves appreciation from this customer. So, I didn't give up and poked my nose around... before long I settled for the HEAD Intelligence S12. Here are the specifications:

• Length: 28"
• Head Size: 115"
• Weight: 8.1 oz.
• Balance: 1pt HL
• Cross Sect1on: 28.50mm
• Type of Swing: Compact strokes
• String Tension:5766 lbs
• Ra:
• Flex: Stiff
• Features: Pre-Strung with IntelliString string at mid tension

And a professional reviewer has this to say about it too: "First things first: The Head i.S10 and i.S12 play a lot alike, although the i.S12 is longer and has a slightly thicker beam. Like the i.S10, the i.S12 has piezoelectric fibers in the throat to give the stick more pop than a champagne bottle, so players with long strokes should look elsewhere, unless they like hitting the backstop on the fly. Beginner testers loved the giddy-up they got on their volleys and ground strokes courtesy of the super-stiff frame. 'I’d just block the ball and it would go nice and deep, and the control wasn’t bad either,' said one 3.0 NTRP player. Another source of the i.S10’s and i.S12’s power is the open 14 by 17 string pattern, which, it should be noted, may also cause the strings to prematurely snap (there’s more string movement and thus more friction). This racquet plays best with a vibration dampener; without one, it makes a loud 'ping.' The same goes for the i.S10." So, I finally have my racquet to make "ping" on the lawn, again. The funny thing is, my tennis mates are now playing badminton. Yonnex? I must be lagging behind the court fads.

beLOW ZERO - New Diver Timepiece from Hamilton

Now that Hamilton has been acquired by the Swiss SWATCH Group, there have been some very terrific timepieces in their new product line up. From their very first release since the acquisition, I bought the KHAKI Air Race, which I remember Jordan liking it quite much. After this young man's death, I gave that favourite timepiece to one of his best friends, James. Last year, I bought the X-WIND Limited Edition Black Stainless Steel, which was quickly a favourite (why else get it?). But when I uncovered the back case protective plastic, we found that the sapphire crystal black cover was chipped. I sent it back under the warranty claims, and instead, had to pay for the new crystal, even when it was brand new. I think this was more a problem with the local agent - Watches of Switzerland - than Hamilton/SWATCH per se. Anyway, I paid - or I wouldn't get my watch back; what would you do? Then I noticed the brand new line up of Art Deco - Panel Dial designs from the 2008 line-up, which are called beLOW ZERO, notably because of the hard steel case and bold look that has been made famous by brands like Panterai, U-Boat, Bell & Ross etc. But being from SWATCH Group, you can expect some incredible finishing quality from them for the casings. While I put OMEGA up there as my top watch brand (also from the same Group), I did not want to get another, having given my SEAMASTER to my nephew Gerard for this 21st. I wanted simply wanted a watch brand that is fairly "undiscovered", has genuine heritage, great modernity yet appeals to the conservative-art inclined few. A tough combination, but I found that in BALL watches which is why I bought their 18kt Rose Gold timepiece as a personal keepsake. But with the new (30 March 2008) beLOW ZERO silver face DIVER watch with helium release (depth to 1000m) and resin strap from Hamilton, I could not resist. It's a tad chunky. But it was exactly the sort of watch I wanted back on my wrist apart from my more functional Polar and Timex training ware. This watch makes you feel so good, you want to head out of the house just to get it noticed! Specifications: BeLOWZERO Auto 2826 Size : 46 mm Material : Stainless steel/ Black PVD Dial Color : Black / silver Attachments : Black rubber / black rubber & stainless steel mixed Movement : Automatic 2826 - ETA 2824-2 Crystal : Sapphire Water resistance : 1000 m

ANTIVIRUS PRO 2008 INFECTED IE 7.0 - GET FIREFOX!

I surrendered to getting BitDefender 2008 to supplement my NOD32 on antivirus, but mainly because it had 24/7 Singapore-based support, and included what it said was the best anti-Spyware and malware. Despite some pretty confusing installation options that was disruptive (like loading in the CD to install but the pop-up asks if you want to download a newer version... "sure"... and it hangs). So you just install what's on the CD and it's fine. That sort of thing. Very common even in the stores which try too hard to be customer-oriented when there aren't the right resource processes to support the options. Go into a store, and the sign says "If we don't have what you want, tell us and we will get it for you." You go to the store person and report your request, and the first thing you hear back is, "All we have is already on the store shelf, sir." Very polite, right. It's even more sad that while you want to be nice to all these migrant and foreign language-speaking workers, you just have to hear this sort of thing voiced back to you. I am sure it's not their fault. But all this just adds up to consumer frustration, and eventually, dislike for these sort of workers when they are stereotyped as polite but useless. Anyway, have you ever tried uninstalling Microsoft IE 7.0 on Vista in your laptop/PC? Tried all sorts of ways? Well, now you know how well embedded IE is on the Windows platform. You are stuck in hell, which is where those engineers are going for sure if God was ever on the Internet. I must recommend FireFox browser and I can only say, just use your IE 7.0 for your Windows operation. That stupid application is so vulnerable to Trojans, worms, malware and other adware crap that once you are hit, you can't properly resolve, even if you want to reinstall IE 7.0. For the average PC user, you just feel like you needed to get a college degree on Windows just to live on earth.

Antivirus PRO 2008 - Proof Why NOD32 & Windows Spyware Sucks

I spent heaps installing original Microsoft software and other antivirus and spyware applications. But all it took was one second of carelessness when I was on the phone and browsing at the same time when I saw a pop-up which offered the Antivirus Pro 2008 and while I usually close these, this particular one on my Internet Explorer 7 was hostile but I had no idea then how malicious it would be. Despite all efforts updating my security settings and apparently removing the affected file(s), on Internet Explorer 7, it is still viciously attacking all my pop-up webpages with a fake/clone "security risk" notification and blanking out my browser. Tried all sorts of advice available through Google (which nowadays needs to be renamed "Garbage" because of the sheer overload to nonsense which cannot be filtered out), and most of the advice seem like geekspeak. Worse still, even when following these, you have promo ads to download more spyware with free 90-day trial, which for all we know - might be more predatory and malicious then the first Trojan virus. Which leads you to think: would you - like me - not thought of buying even more expensive security defense software (spyware, adware, blahware and getting-absolutely-no-where...) if not for these very successful and malicious viruses. The conspiracy theory is probably all fact. It is almost certain that today - given the decaying moral and ethical climate - that the sure-fire way to make money is to fix what is broke, only if you succeed in ways to tell the consumer that what he has (and needs every day...) is broke. So, my IE7.0 is broke and you can't get proper advice from Microsoft either on reinstalling. But if you are in Singapore, you can order a CD to be sent to you for about SGD40. So, maybe the Utopian world needs a global technological disaster so instaneous that it will make urban life untenable and set us back to 30,000 BC in the stone age. I am packing my flint, axe, chisel and pan. Meanwhile, I am totally at the mercy of these mercenary system fixers.

Phenomenal Phelps... The Greatest Olympian Ever

When your days are as free and easy as mine nowadays, you wake up to immediate lethargy and restlessness, with the full day of scheduled appointments and events being "optional" and in reality, "tentative". But this morning, I had timed my cable set-top box on the Olympic Men's Swimming event results. Immediately, I felt the adrenaline rush and my heart racing. Who needs nitric oxide to feel pumped when right before my eyes human sporting history was simply being made.

The amazing feat that has been accomplished by that phenomenal fish called Phelps is - as the BBC and US media say - beyond all available adjectives in the thesaurus - for "great". I was genuinely inspired. Like Thrope before him (see my earlier blogs), any human fish would be secretly admiring this "Great One". We would quietly be observing every underwater film on him which might yield any secret which would "shave seconds" off our poor technique. As if. Well, I think it is just how sports can inspire and these Great Ones do just that without any additional effort - they inspire. Phelps is just terrific to watch underwater. He is extremely lithe and streamline underwater, and those size 14 feet just make me want my size 11.5 US to grow... But poor things, Phelps we aren't. Which is why he is so fascinating to watch. The mystique around his training and development is another factor. Trade or national secrets. The FBI might be spying who's asking.

But Singapore has yet to find out own. I was just very proud still to see compatriot Bryan Tay (namesakes!) do his bit. It was not as great as his own personal best, but a champion like our other national swimmers, too. They are great to watch, but regrettably, we don't have a strong local sports media that is run like PBS to build up the audience and public interest. Instead, the dearth of commercial appeal is the reason why we don't get to watch top Singapore sporting stars "doing their thing" on a daily basis. Perhaps that's for the the future to make better.

Anyway, I found myself at the Mountbatten Pool to do laps in the late afternoon after my short work out at California Fitness (Orchard Building) this afternoon. It was great to see so many little children jumping in to the deep pool doing freestyle laps under the watchful eyes of their swim coaches. Swimming is something Singapore should invest even more in. I don't understand why the Sports Council and public works designers don't realise that we need more lane pools. The wading and children's pools are simply under utilised, and wasted being empty. I think twin lane pools are needed to encourage more lap training - which triathletes and other swimming enthusiasts can attest is much needed. Instead, every day, at any one time, there are disruptive activities at these deep pools because of swim school activities, children playing and so forth. These future Phelp-fishes aren't interested in the shallow water pools.

It is a problem that needs to be fixed, but like all things in centrally governed and engineered Singapore, you just have to wait until the Politburo sees the "light of day" and suddenly (perhaps in my decimated old age by then) things will change and we will have more deep lane pools.

Until then, serious swim training is a privilege for the elite who have access to private club pools where the water is sumptuously pristine, and available at pre-dawn hours to these talented ones. But I lament as a leisure athlete and longtime phish-Phelps-Thorpe fan who was once called "Fish" by my pals because of my ability to swim endlessly. For now, we don't just battle the schedules and lethargy for opportunity; when it comes, we battle those little ones and others who have no idea what lane swimming is, and even as swimmers, they just hijack your lane and swim right into you. But as swimming coaches know, these are usually those freestylists who have yet to get their twist and balance right.

But the whole point is to celebrate the incredible feat of one Michael Phelps, who today - with 11 Gold Medals tucked and three events more to go, is already the Greatest Olympian ever. Oh, I guess the million fans who prayed like me for his success may have had something to do with it, too! What a HERO this guy is!

Across Court - Quite A Racquet

The Ten-year Tennis itch has struck again, and with the new HEAD CrossBow racquet available I simply could not resist. The only problem now the supplier merchandiser has is getting me the 4 1/2 size as they only imported the 4 3/8 which I am afraid will slip for me. Read the review on this racquet at: http://www.tennis-warehouse.com/descpageRCHEAD-HCB10.html While I wait for World of Sports to get the desired size and string my paid-for racquet, now I just need to look for a tennis-kaki (Malay for "buddy" or "mate") to get into court and play.

Sights Tonight in the Night Sky

On 11 August evening, Monday, I noticed a break in the sky at about 2230 hrs and quickly carried my NexStar 5 down to a dark spot below my block of flats. There, I quickly got the waxing half moon in sight and what an incredible vision it was. Bright and silver, with the high contrast and clarity you could only imagine. This was even better than on the photographic plates.

Then, swinging the scope higher to zenith, I got Jupiter again in sight with her moons skirting her and I can imagine how easily it may have been for the early powered astronomers to have guessed that the necklace of light were the Jovian moons. I was also able to get sight of a few globular clusters which were near the moon and bright enough to be viewed through the thin equatorial cloud layers.

Tonight, there should be opportunity to get the Trifid Nebula (M20) again, and hopefully the others like Barnard's galaxy etc.

What We Gain From The Gym

Last week, just before National Day (9 August 2008 for Singaporeans), I hesitated to hit the gym downtown. The reason being that the afternoon "crowd" had a certain fancy - as if a certain type of brood of male archetypes dominate the scene - and these were "muscle Mary" types who were highly narcissitic, were browsers (they were always looking around) and tended to have very unfriendly stares (possibly from testosterone and anabolic overdose). Any way, I felt the urge too strong and found myself doing a good full body work out which was not too indulgent, ensuring I would be injury-free for my personal training sessions with Chris Ong. As I was leaving, a particular guy got my attention and I boldly gave him my number to call. I left the gym and got about two blocks away to get my car from the Grand Hyatt car park and as I was about to start the car and move off (home? or Sentosa?), I receive an SMS and it's from this cool guy. It turns out he's teacher at a local primary school located North-east Singapore. I invite him to take time off the gym and head with me to the beach at Sentosa, then dinner at VivoCity. After some persuasion, he agrees and I divert to fetch him. It turns out to be a very pleasant meeting and lovely late afternoon at the sea side, with a warm and pleasant time just conversing and exchanging ideas. We have dinner instead at HarbourFront, and I send him home on the long drive North via the CTE and Ang Mok Kio Avenue 5 to Sengkang's Riverdale. During our conversation, I talked about setting up new alignments in my life, which included being more spontaneous in making friends and making more effort to keep them. His response was a direct suggestion, "Go to the gym more often." It should have sounded cryptic, but I think he was simply factual - if you wanted to hook up with a certain type of crowd of people with simlar likes, hang out at the right places is a good place to start. The thing is, the crowd at the gym in town is not quite the sort I would get glued to for long, and they are at best too superficial. But reflecting back at the crowd we get at the private health clubs, it would be much more refreshing. For that reason, I have enjoyed seeing the hotel guests trudge in and out of the club, as they add flavour and short-term variety. I guess it depends on what you like and what you shop for! I suspect we might stay in touch for a while, and maybe see each other again on Teacher's Day.

TIME TO TRY AGAIN - TRI-TRAINING

I picked up the August and July 2008 editions of the US "Triathlete magazine", and found myself inspired again to put on those running shoes, dip into the pool at horrid hours for laps, and, peering through the glass windows of bike stores to note the new and fancy designs that beg to be brought home and ridden on. Here's the first paragraph of the editorial from Mitch Thrower (mthrower@triathletemag.com) in the July 2008 issue (page 20), which succinctly expresses my own state of mind about the sport and its place in my life then (2005) and now: "THE BEST SHAPE OF YOUR LIFE One of the greatest things about being a triathlete is that you can swim, bike, run and eat your way toward your own particular summit of absolute fitness. At some point on the journey to the peak of your personal athletic Everest, you will wake up in that special place you will call "the best share of my life." Your time there may be fleeting. Nudging externalities such as time, workload, family commitments, geography and health will sooner or later draw you away from this special place. But you'll be back." There are just some incredibly succinct truths in just that paragraph: 1. That at any point in your life, you can find your athletic Everest; 2. That like all summits, it is momentary, only that you will have other such moments again; and, 3. That whatever draws us away from triathlon training - not just the competitive events - we can take charge of our lives and pull ourselves back into it again. That was where I was in 2005 when I was not working (see my earlier blog entries), and this is where I am now (again), and trying to get some tri-training back into this life time.

BACK TO BLOGGING....

It has been two years since I last blogged on this site. A lot has happened since, of course. The gist will never do justice and it will be a while before I will able to get the course of events and happenings down. Since 2006, I had gone back to work and until very recently, gone back into taking a break from work. It seems erratic, but there are many factors at work. While we can try and respond in ways which fit a pattern of expected control, there are also ways to respond to these eventualities according to our deepest and most personal insights. Right or wrong remains to be debated, and even then, to some people, their measure depends on their own preferences and biases. "Taking a break now is great," some say to me while others put it more bluntly, "depends whether you can afford it or not" or just as pragmatic a thought: "better to get back to work, man!" I had to contemplate on this, a great deal, and the final decision is to use the first month for housekeeping and the second for re-alignment, and the third for cast the net wide and moving forward. Meanwhile, apart from the contemplation there is a need for me to get back to my sporting life, and there's enough material there for a few more blog entries...!

Jupiter & Its Moons - 31 July 2008

Last evening, as I was about to retire from a full day of activities, the pinky evening clouds cleared for a while and I could see Jupiter almost at zenith, in full brilliance. Just two weeks ago, I bought myself a Celestron Schmidt-Cassegrain NexStar 5 telescope. Now, the sky with Jupiter just above seemed too good an opportunity for me to let up and just head into bed...

So I quickly changed into jeans, packed the NexStar 5 into the car and drove down to a secluded car park at East Coast Park, set up the telescope and very quickly located Jupiter.

At 2325 hrs, this guy fulfilled a life long dream. When I was 11 I harboured my first interest in the night sky when my brother had pointed out the constellation Orion as we attended Midnight Mass at an open air section of church. Ever since then, I secretly fell in love with Astronomy and cosmology. I could not afford a telescope then, nor had the opportunity to even view the night sky through one... it was always with my binoculars, and unlike situations where families have backyard Newtonian telescopes in the US, this is just not the norm in cloudy and light-polluted Singapore. Even when the Singapore Science Centre observatory opened up, I had not found the time to "join the queue". When the time came around one Friday evening two weeks ago to do just that, I found myself speaking to founding members of the Singapore Astronomical Society and making the NexStar 5 my first investment into realising that dream.

So just imagine how I felt when I peered into the viewer and could make out Jupiter and five satellites in utter clarity. The five moons were like sparkling diamonds in an almost straight line around her, and after adjusting the focus further, I could even make out the two belts of Jovian clouds in its light orange hue.

It was an incredible moment for me, personally. I actually felt vindicated, for all the effort and perseverance, and just then a few other passer-bys, Terence and his pal Richard, came along and I let them view the Jovian system, to their utter amazement.

When I arrived back home about 1 am, and carried the instrument and tripod towards my flat, I noticed that the open arena next to my home had a stellar mosiac floor laid out into its centre. Just then the sky cleared again, and I could not resist but test how quickly I could set up the NexStar 5 up. I did it in seconds, amazingly and invited two youths nearby to take a peek. Will and Lynette peered in turns as I fine-tuned the focus for maximal clarity, and they were in turn just amazed as well.

It felt utterly good, having to share those great views of Jupiter and the Jovian moons. At present, the magnification I have is about 110X, which is maximum for my aperture and reflector, and for now, really terrific. I can't wait two weeks when the Moon comes back to the night side and is full... Time then for the moon filter to get used.

Jordan Tay Yong Ming - Unfinished Eden

Entry 18 May 2008 in MSN My Space. On 4 May 2008, at about 4.30 pm in the afternoon, I received a call from one of my guys, Jith: "Tom. Jordan had an accident this morning. He passed away." Few words of breaking news fail to leave one moved. This one was to rock my world inside out. The idea of getting this entry done is not to lay full tribute. (I am working on some memoirs separately, maybe for catharsis.) Jordan Tay was born to Charlie and Irene on 26 April 1983, and he left this world of toil and play on Sunday, 4 May 2008 in the early hours of the morning after a barbeque with friends. He was riding his dream motorbike - the Ducatti Monster - and in a TE Lawrence sort of way, died like Jimmy Dean, forever young and free. This is my favourite picture of Jordan. It was taken the award-winning photographer, Allen Myles from Australia and I had everything to do with this getting shot. http://www.allanmyles.com.au/ Jordan was helping me coordinate with the location sites and the advertising agency on the photography shoot for our new advertisement campaign scheduled for launch in November 2007. Early on a weekend (Sunday morning), he rode his Honda Wave from home down to help with the ground coordination. I don't remember him being particularly good about getting up early, so I knew how this sort of thing tormented him. I had the agency on the telephone, and spoke to Roy, the art director and told him, "Hey, Roy, take care of him, OK, and see that he's alright. Call me if anything. Oh, by the way, let's surprise him. When there's a break in between, can you please get Allen to shoot Jordan as he is, you know, relaxed and just real." Roy said, sure. Jordan did get his photos but I never saw them until he had already left my charge end March 2008. The truth is, I am having a really hard time dealing with his passing. In a nutshell, it was simply because he was just terrific as a person and I genuinely missed him. As his boss, it made sense for me to have a clean cut after the 11-months of mentoring, and 19 months of friendship at least, since mid-2006. He called me twice on Friday, 4 April in the afternoon. I saw the missed calls but thought to get back to him. I also overlooked his birthday when it came around on Saturday, 26 April but had plans to call him on Sunday, 4 May to arrange a meeting the following Tuesday, 6 May. I did not know even then that among his friends and ex-colleagues he had a barbeque planned on 1 May at SAFRA Country Club, Changi. I think it was great that he had a whole month free from work pressure and that gave him a chance to catch up with his friends. Jordan's brief life as I witnessed it is not tragic as if his sudden departure might want to mythologize. He had an extraordinary life and I don't plan to be his hagiographer. And he had a temperament or moods, and if he had his own temper and idiosyncrasies, I can claim to have seen and experienced it all. For 11 months, he came to work in the morning and left in the evening, and sometimes put in late hours and on weekends. I saw him happy with his mates and colleagues, and I also saw how hard he worked to get recognition from me, which I may have seemed selfishly witholding. Yet, to the end of this working relationship with me, at his final interview I threw him a few options and a lifeline. But he indicated he had made "other plans" and I was to respect that. With the end of this mentored relationship, I knew that I myself would need a time away completely, to formalise the end of that mentoring bond, and if I could after that, allow for the normalcy of friendship to resume and take precedence. Perhaps, even as a friend, and like an older brother who loved him, could provide some independent guidance, from a viewpoint that is one whom like him, understands what it means to struggle hard to get recognised. For I was without any formal higher education, and I knew that he looked up to me for that, setting my professional life as a model for himself. So, I felt it was too early to speak with him when he called on 4 April. As a result, my last memory of him was that of his tall, lanky frame standing in-between the office dividers, clutching his helmet and bag beneath his arms in his trademark stance. His body was turned to go, but he looked to me as I worked at my desk corner. he said: "Tom, I am going. Bye." I heard all his team mates wish him farewell. Inside, my heart was breaking. I hated that he was leaving and tomorrow morning he would not be here, like for the past 11 months, reporting for work. This is the freedom that separates, and is essential for either to grow. Like boats leaving the coast for the greater catch of the day. Many metaphors but none can convery the anxiety and anguish, the silent pain and ache that marks both ends and beginnings. At the corner of my eye, I saw him, and instinctively though I did not want to, my head nod slightly in acknowledgement. I had hoped he would take the lifeline offer and stayed on. But leaving was good for him, and for me, too. In another time, I would add to this list of entries why I loved this young man, and how he turned my own life magnificiently topsy-turvey. But it sufficed to say that we shared more than a common surname. He and I had specific loves and passion and these were like sailing routes old ships might take over and over again. When we spoke together as friend, son, brother, colleague or mentoree, we would traverse these same familiar lines over and over again. He was an idealised version of myself young and free-spirited, and I was perhaps the older idea of himself within a corporatized world. I had a great love for what he enjoyed and shared my own things with him about these - motorbiking, climbing, scuba diving, skating, music (Jack Johnson), and the whole gamut of discovery and knowledge, colour and style, and love of the outdoors. Jordan really wanted to help people. I put him as the guy to coordinate relief effort and our corporate community involvement projects and listed him to attend last year's Global Compact convention at the NVCC event in December 2007 at Suntec. One of his best moments shared with me, was when he told me about how he got into a conversation with his dad, Charlie, about the tough executive work he was doing and how much it mattered to him. Then he said, "My dad told him he was proud of me, and that I could do anything as long as I was happy." I was really glad for him that this happened. Because one of the things that really mattered to him, was making his father and his family proud of him. I was Jordan's boss. I loved him as a friend as even if he were like my own son, I loved his energy as his mentor and I often reminded him to stay the course; I loved him for his humility and humour as a colleague but most of all his perseverance and faithfulness. I loved him for his discretion and intelligence, even if this meant he was sometimes too headstrong or stubborn, but I loved the way he never gave up. I hope he has it in him to forgive me for letting up and letting off steam. I never targetted him per se, even if he sometimes felt like it. I explained myself objectively. And where I have been at fault, I always went back to my boys - Jordan included - to admit my failing and indicate what I would do to make it better. In the end, there was a great part of me which became Jordan. But I was proud of him because of the part of him that has always been aware of his own blessed nature and gifts. Today, even as I try to work out my grief and regrets, which follow very closely in the wake of my own deep loss of my best friend - my Mum in 8 February 2008 - and from the difficulty of wrangling myself from diving back into my work to numb the pain, I know that both my best friends have passed from this world into a greater peace, free from toil and mechanisms. Just last Friday, as I walked into the neighbourhood Cheers store to pick up some drinks before heading home, I felt the sharp pain and my heart race as I thought of Jordan now gone. My immediate thought, as I queued to pay for my purchase, was to run to my Mum's flat nearby, upstairs as we say, and tell her, "Ma, I just lost my friend." But right then, I felt a sharper arrow of truth pierce the very interior of my soul. My Ma was not to be around for me to pour this out and share my grief with her. Gone would be the solace and private comfort I could get. I felt horridly alone, and in abject pain. Now, it would be a long journey of self-discovery and healing, as if any land devasted by such calamity can so quickly recover. But I remember their love and the great peace I have always felt: like when I simply sat around my Mum and just her presence made me whole, or when Jordan lifted his left arm and placed his hand on my shoulder when comforting me about the loss of my mother. "Ah... That felt good, Jordan. Thanks." That was what I said to him at 10.15 pm that evening in March 2008, at the Somerset Road entrance to our workplace as we finished an evening of shopping, cigarettes and cool conversation. Thanks, Jordan.