Archive for August 2016

Another important chapter extracted from the Pissed Poor Peasant's guide to the life. Today we'll learn how not to go hungry on our birthdays in Perth.

To many out there, birthday is a big deal. Apparently, it is a special day that they think they are entitled special privileges just because they are born on that particular day some years ago. I don't think that way. Hunger doesn't recognises birthdays. The same goes for illnesses, fucked up drivers and death. When they come, they come. Birthdays also no give face.

Fortunately this time, the world generally doesn't agree with me. In this case, businesses are willing to curry favour with you on the pretext they want to celebrate your birthdays with you, by giving you goodies in return for the goodwill of future business you may do with them. We will be focusing on food, because there is nothing more important than fulfilling the base of the needs pyramid when it comes to being a real Pissed Poor Peasant in Perth. The general strategy is to claim food from nice FnB joints that allows you to do it only your birthday. Then later claim from the others who are willing to let you claim on your birth week, birth month or a few days close to the actual date. +- 1 or 2. Sounds pathetic I know but when that's what you get when you put a kiasu Singaporean and a hungry peasant together.

To cut the shit short, here are some vendors that offers to curb your hunger pangs.

Jester's - Free pie on your birthday. Small one that I can gobble in 2 bites of course.

Miss Maud - Kids under 12 eat for free on their birthday upon joining the Birthday Club.

Panchos - Eat for free on birthday

Baskin Robbins - Free scoop of ice cream valid up to 14 days after your birthday

Boost Juice - Free Boost Juice for Vibe club members (Valid from 2 days before thru 2 days after bday)

Cold Rock - 1 Free Ice Cream on birthday & $10 off Birthday Cake Voucher (must sign up at least 35 days before your birthday)

Gelatissimo - 1 Free gelato in the month of your birthday

IKEA - Free Princess Cake for IKEA Family members (valid for one month)

Jamaica Blue - Free slice of cake for birthday month (collect card in-store first)

Krispy Kreme - Free 6 Pack of Original Glazed Doughnuts

Muffin Break - Free Muffin in the month of your birthday (collect card in-store with a purchase first)

Mrs. Fields - Free cookie on your birthday (collect card in-store first)

Nando's - Free regular meal (regular classic meal includes Classic Burger, pita, wrap or a ¼ chicken or Classic Vegetarian burger or pita + regular side + regular drink) during your Bday month - redeem email which arrives on 1st (collect card in store or download the app) - Must have made transaction within previous 6 months (from 01/10/14)

Noodle Box - $10 loaded onto card no min spend (collect card in-store first)

Salsas - Free burrito from 2 days before to 2 days after birthday (collect card in store or download the app)

Red Rooster - A free meal to celebrate your birthday if you're with the free Red Royalty loyalty program. Expires 30 days after birthdate, and need to show ID at purchase time

San Churro - Free churros for two from 1 day before to 1 day after birthday

Shingle Inn - Free patty cake (i.e. cupcake) and coffee/tea in birthday month

Subway - Free 6-inch sub and 600mL drink/water valid for birthday and up to three days after

Sumo Salad - Free salad (Valid for 7 days from birthday) - collect card in-store first

If you have planned it properly, you would properly not go hungry for a week or two during your birth month. Ah, so that will leave us only 50 more weeks remaining to worry about in a year. Easy peasy.

*thank you Joni for the tips. I hereby give you the honorary membership to the Piss Poor Peasant clan.

Almost 5 years in Perth and not a single post about Kings Park? That must be almost a criminal offence.

After all, Kings Park is the pride of Perth. It is one of the largest inner city park in the world. For a better sense of proportion, it is bigger than New York's Central Park and 4 times bigger than Singapore's Gardens by the Bay. It is quite popular with tourists, visited by some 5 million every year, quite remarkable if you considered it is in the boring, boring Perth that nobody really wants to visit. Kings Park is situated in the heart of the city, right above the hilly region in the west. At its peak, it offers a panoramic view of Perth city, the Swan River and Melville Water. During September of each year, Kings Park hosts the Australia's largest wildflower show and exhibition in a festival.

Before our road trip, I took Tucky and Louise to Kings Park. The weather forecast was terrible for the holidayers. Other than their first full day, the rest of their week here would be rainy, or even stormy on some days. That was the most unfortunate timing, as it seldom rain in Perth throughout the rest of the year. It was natural to want my guests, making a rare trip here, to see the best of Perth and enjoy themselves. The famous clear blue sky that Perth usually offers were not on the plate that day. That did not dampen our spirit, at least it wasn't raining.

The clear blue sky was replaced by a cloudy grey

a looming grey

This location was right in front of the iconic war memorial overlooking the city-scape. Louise and Judy, who wanted to tag along with us, were the obvious photographers. As they snapped, Tucky and I looked around to spot Pokemon Go players. Albany seemed to have a great time playing bubbles with other kids and Puipui dozed off on my chest in his kangaroo bag.

We had the intention to do a BBQ for them that afternoon because it was improbable to do so for the rest of the week. So it was a now and never. I wanted to move to South Perth to do that but decided to give Kings Park a shot, since it was a week day and there wasn't a large crowd. With some luck, we might be able to find a nice spot to cook.

"Why are the BBQ stations so clean?" Judy asked.

"Because the last person who used it cleaned up after himself and we shall do the same."

There are BBQ pits in almost every park around Perth. BBQ is a regarded as a national past time of the Aussies for a reason. One thing I like about it is that the BBQs cannot be booked. I always felt public facilities are built for the people with the taxpayers' money. It is not fair to slap anymore additional charge for using them. That way, amenities like that can be enjoyed by the less privileged, not just the taxpayers themselves. More importantly, the fact that BBQs cannot be booked reflects a few points I hold dear to. One, the people are generally civic minded, take care of these facilities and are willing to share with strangers when there is a crowd. Else it will not be possible to run things the way it is. Two, the population density is at a comfortable level in Perth, such that people do not have to fight for resources. That also apply to other things and not limited to BBQs. This - and I am not referring to the BBQs - is one of the factors why I was very reluctant to let go of and return to Singapore during the earlier years.

Due to the Winter chill, the food took a while to cook. I enjoyed it. I hoped the rest did too.

Though Kings Park spans such a large area, most of the sections are family friendly. There is something anywhere that young children are interested in, be it wide open spaces, low shady trees, safe slopes to slide or roll down, natural playgrounds, water features and plenty of nature, where they actually feel more at home than their adults. This is a good place to observe how Aussie leisure. It is a common sight to see young adults lying on a mat, reading a book, lovers lazing an afternoon actually paying attention to each other, older folks nesting under trees with camp chairs and food reminiscing old times. Kings Park appeals to visitors of any age group.

Thanks Louise for the pictures, I really love them

I really should visit more often. Alas, the visitors during weekends still feel a tad too many for me. I have a low threshold so you'll probably love it. Try it and tell me.

What was supposed to be a simple errand for the wife turned out quite differently. Drive to that address after work, pick up a bicycle, put it in the car, drive home. That was it. Jen wanted to give the bicycle to my MIL, who could use it for her grocery trips. As a dutiful husband, I agreed to take up the errand without hesitation. I had gotten a vague idea about him, apparently a man who collects bikes, fix up and donate them. "That is quite remarkable," I thought, and reminded myself to have a short chat with him before I leave later.

I marveled at my ability to find his place at the first try without a GPS. I must be getting more accustomed to my surroundings. By now, I can remember the sequence and names of every exit of the highways I use. It seems like yesterday when I hardly could even pronounce some of those names properly.

Jeremy the bike man called out from his yard the moment I got out from the car, "Hey buddy!"

"Haaay," I replied, in the usual half-dead manner. "Kolecting bike, hope I'm at the right place."

"Come on in!" he exclaimed. Bikeman was a chirpy middle age man who couldn't stop talking from the first minute. That was perfectly fine with me, so long as I did not have to do the talking.

There was bicycles strewed all over Jeremy's yard. He proudly introduced each of them like a proud father. To mere mortals, they were old bicycles but to the bike man, there was a unique story behind each and every bicycle under his charge, who gave it to him and who was it going to. The corridor that flanked his house was full of bicycle spare parts, hung neatly by type like carcasses in an abattoir's butchery.

"You are getting the 995th bike!" Bikeman beamed. "I shall hit the 1000th by this weekend," he proudly declared. I couldn't help but express my salutation. Bikeman apologised for the dire condition of the bicycle he was about to donate to me. I told him it looked fine to me, thanked him for his kindness and offered a contribution. He politely declined and told me he was not doing that for money but for God. As if he could sense my curiosity, he elaborated and told me it was his calling. You know, how one would receive that sudden beep from Jesus Christ. He did and claimed it changed him from a death metal playing dread lock, filled with full blooded immense hate metal head into a simple Servant of God today. He told me he also received the gift of healing.

"Hmm, really?" I asked. The Servant of God was affirmative and asked if I wanted to try out his laying on hands. Why not? "This place gives me an annoying pain," I pointed to my neck. Jeremy placed both his hands on my shoulders immediately and started to conversing with God in such hurried pace that might put an average rapper to shame. My eyeballs roamed around as I stood, wondering how I was suppose to react. After a few good minutes, the Healing Hand of God asked me how I felt. I moved my head around in hope my HP was fully restored but had to shook my head regretfully to admit, "Nah mate, it didn't work."

"Hmm, that's so strange. I got it working more than 90% of the time. I even healed broken bones before," he wondered. "However, I didn't feel God's power running through me with the same intensity just now, though there were bouts of it. It may require a bit of time before you'll feel a difference." With that, the healer tried a second round of laying of hands on me. Though the result was the same, I appreciated his effort and consoled him, "I guess I have pretty strong demons in me."

"No, I am pretty sure it will work, give it some time."

"Sure thing!" I replied with an honest open mind.

We talked more about his healing gifts and he invited me to his house to see his Book of Healing. There, I was introduced to his beautiful wife and daughter. I saw his a picture of Jeremy in dread locks before he became the Hand of God. His wife looked ravishing then, with their two children posed in front of them. The walls of his house were lined with tall shelves, all fully filled with toys collectibles. "Go on," Jeremy urged, when I asked him for permission to snap a few quick pictures of probably half of his immense collection.

After the toys tour, it was time to get down to business. The Hand of God began to flip his thick Book of Healing and asked me what I was interested in.

"How about eczema?" I asked.

"Hmmm, that's a new one but let's see....," the healer mumbled as he scanned through his content page. "Aha! There we go."

I moved forward slightly to read the headline of a paragraph. It read, "The fear of man and what he thinks of you." The healer then proceed to put things together. He explained that since I developed a serious case of eczema during my SISPEC days in the army, it all makes sense to him because the day I was enlisted into conscription, I lost my identity, freedom and became a cog of the machine. My eyebrow rose at the notion, as it sound exactly like a line from my blog. He continued and told me that I had to do whatever my commander asked of me and naturally there would be fear of men further up the hierarchy and what they thought of me became of utmost importance. "To heal completely, you need to get rid of a negative memory or change it into a positive one," he concluded.

I thanked him for his insight and left, after the Hand of God told me to return if I have any questions for him.

Before I drove off, I noticed the time and made a quick reply to my wife who must be puzzled by my delay. What was supposed to be a simple errand turned out to be a bicycle repair lesson, a toy exhibition, a hand laying and a fortune telling session.

Once again, you'll never know what life will bring along once you start getting outside.

And a bicycle at the back of my car blessed by God

I just downed a keg of water before I wrote this, to increase my resistance to pengsan so you can be sure to read a full post, uninterrupted.

I was told the loony king, if given a chance, would ask God for 2 things, a blessing and wisdom. To bless us with divine discontentment, so that we will never be satisfied with what we have and will always strive to do better and the wisdom to count our blessings, so that we know how precious Singapore is, and how to protect it.

No one has manage to provide a perspicacious definition of the purpose of life. However, we have come close to agreeing that being happy is a decent way to spend our life force. If an individual possess the wisdom to appreciate what he already have, he would have found true happiness from innate contentment, living a life worthy of the Gods. Any material desire provokes a different level of discontentment. The failure to address the desire will lead to regrets. A dying wish of regret is unlikely a happy one. Addressing a desire will yield a temporal false sense of happiness, before the law of diminishing marginal utility eventually kicks in. The individual will then seek more, to curb his material addiction as well as addressing discontentment from perpetual dissatisfaction, peer pressure, jealousy, envy, expectations and stress - the factorised form of "always striving to do better."

It doesn't matter how you package it. Discontentment, divine or not, can never be a blessing but a curse. To ask a population to count their blessings yet be constantly discontented enough to do better is to have the cake and expect to eat it, another way of telling me, "I want you to slog senselessly but don't get pissed off with me when I screw things up for you." It also reaffirm why he has an incurable fetish for hungry lunch stealing foreigners to replace a bunch of peaceful, contented and happy Pokemon Go zombies, an incurable thirst for light-speed progress and the lack of wisdom to count his own truckload of blessings.

I am speaking for myself because I know how painful for it to be so unhappy with life, chasing imaginary rainbows, until it gave me cancer. If I had stayed on in that crazy circus, I would have been dead today. I have been told countless times, both kindly and maliciously, "I'm glad you left." You don't have to tell that to me so many times really. The feeling is mutual.

I don't know why no one stands up and tell the truth - The never ending chase for greater heights is meaningless. We turn to dust at the end of the day and it doesn't even matter if we are thrown into a murky sea or sitting on a high breezy position at Bright Hill. Always striving to do better, as I eventually found out by chance, is just another form of pragmatism - the art of covering gaps with koyok patches.

After I left, I found that my life changes radically. More importantly, it changes who I am radically. It forces me to be summon courage that I never had, it changes how I see myself, the world, other human beings ... and life. Instead of a personal level of pragmatism-going-nowhere, the radical change allows me to reset my life and form a new identity and find myself writing a new life story in a panoramic wide lens and that I have to confront the reality that security and stability is a pricey delusion. It isn't easy to describe the complexity of this realisation. But .... that is when you learn to appreciate contentment in its purest form. Nothing divine about it. Just simplicity.

Wrestling the Internet away from civil servants in the name of security, outlawing the people for voicing opinions that reeks of the burning of books in ancient times, installing thousands of survilence cameras and a GPS monitoring sytem. With propaganda towers, "national education" and an impermeable network of cronies stoutly set up over the years, are these really necessary? With almost no channel of peaceful protest left for the people, why would you be surprised to hear someone declaring, "People support CPF cuts because there are no protests outside the parliament (which was made illegal)." Perhaps some people cannot sleep well at night after all, living a cursed life of insecurities, too cowardly to step up a ring without having the opponent's hands cuffed first.

Tough times breed strong people. Strong people make good times. Good times breed weak people. Weak people make tough times. No dynasty can deviate far from this lifecycle. We had our tough times and we had a group of good people who slogged to bring on the good times. Here we are at the 3rd stage of the life cycle. The signs are everywhere. A weak leader who has created a system of aristocracy and injustice for the commoners. A band of weak lieutenants hiding behind their aegis of inaccountability. A cancer of cronies. The strong bullying the weak with law. The sharp increase in youth suicides. The elites taxing everyone but themselves through creative taxation. A population without the ability to see beyond the cloak of materialism.

How long this stage will last is anyone's guess. It can take decades or happen overnight to a scandal big enough to take us down. For now, we have the money to burn as firewood, as the weak breeds and dance around the campfire. The population ponzi is fueling our coffers. It should cover gaps for another good two decades. However, the times where the elites start to craft policies without the welfare of the people in their minds are already upon us. Things will go on an inevitable downward projectile from here.

******

There may be some aspects of a quitter that many do not know about. A quitter is either a grower or a builder. Both recognises the resources and conditions he needs to grow or build. A peasant finds a plot of land in a faraway place to grow more pots of gold, quietly in solitude while his old pals laugh at his foolishness. Another peasant builds his tiny empire, striving to conquer the three properties he attains before turning 40, fully owning them in his lifetime he plans to try.

A grower and builder knows the third stage is not a stage to stay to fight. When all forms of non-violent resistance is eventually removed, it'll leave violent revolution the only option left. If a leader is not wise enough to understand this, the 4th stage forthcoming is inevitable. When tough times eventually come, the builders and growers will return. New ones will pop up like mushrooms, emulating them, building strength yet again.

They propagated lies about the wonders of stress and have a whole nation believing in it. Stress, they say, is good for progress. It drives one to greater heights. Parents take it all in, hook, line and sinker. They try turning their kids to spinning ballerinas, spell casting mathematics wizards. They jump or turn loony. The survivors die at 25 but only cremated at 85, spending their time spreading their zombie-like affliction in the middle, echoing propaganda messages of plague.

Stress is merely a common factor of cancer. If you are regular recipient of stress at a level you cannot handle, say hello to cancer. Go talk to any cancer patient and ask if they have suffered from extreme stress in some periods of their lives. Only with passion, stress can be processed into a useful by-product in the form of challenge, determination and perseverance. Without passion, unnecessary stress can never be good for any young child, who is ill-equipped to handle it. I have not seen a single successful person who reached the pinnacle of his or her field based on dealing with stress alone. What drives Buffet on is not being the richest man on earth but the thrill of getting his bets right. Soros thrives on the motivation derived from his trauma when his family lost everything from wealth to identity, in order to survive the Nazis.

Joseph Schooling's recent rise to being the King of Butterfly is a product of his innate passion. According to his father, there was an episode when his 8 years old son woke him up at 4 am in the morning, asking to go for his swimming practice. Imagine the opposite, where the older Schooling tried pushing his son to be a future swimming star, who did not have the passion and interest in the project. Will he have became a champion Olympian? If Joseph Schooling has been fueled by his relentless passion in the past, he probably have to handle the real stress now.

His bandwagon is growing at an incredible rate, filling up with toxic balls of white thrash, I'm not sure if donating a few Toyota Hiluxes to him is enough to handle it. You would think the best reward for Schooling's gold medal effort is wiring him one million bucks before sending his girlfriend to his hotel room but no, he had to pose for pictures with glory snatchers, SIA girls and whatnot. After training like crazy for more than a decade and now to deal with this shit, if I'm Joseph Schooling, I'll think twice about winning in future. That must be the hardest way to win a million bucks. No wonder parents are turning their kids into spinning ballerinas, spell casting mathematics wizards. Better to sleep in Parliament than to swim your guts out only having to take obligated pictures selfies with glory hunting scum.

Only 30km west of Busselton, there lies a place called Yallingup, an aboriginal name that means "Place of Love". For me though, Busselton is the place of love.

Returning to Busselton again to walk along its jetty was my personal highlight of our trip. It was the only instance I didn't care if my visitors want it or not. The wife's decision to remain in the car also did not deter me. The past two returns have been disappointing. The first time was foiled by a stormy weather. They were doing renovations (after collecting enough donations) the 2nd time. This time round, stormy weather once again, threatened my opportunity to walk Busselton Jetty. It was pouring rain by the buckets when we were approaching the City of Busselton. My heart sank a little.

The weather spared us a little mercy and stopped the rain once we entered the heart of the town. The car park was waterlogged. Jen decided to stay in the car to feed puipui after hearing the howl of the wind outside. I, too, was a little hesitant but my yearning returned after little Albany rang out, "I want to go, I want to go!" So I dragged my guests along with me and told them we were in for a long walk. We paid the entry fee and started ......

It was in 2007 when I first saw this magnificent 1.98 km long jetty. It was my first ever trip to Australia and Perth to visit Jen who was doing her master degree program in Perth. Back then we were still, in her own words recently, "not a thing." Perhaps Busselton Jetty was the place our thing began slowly then. On a much bigger scale, it was the place I fell in love with Perth. The conditions were so suspiciously perfect that day, it almost felt like a scam. It was a clear sunny day. The sky was blue and the sea mirrored a brilliant deep blue across the entire horizon. There was not a single ship or boat in sight to break the picture of nature. The only thing that stood out was the endless jetty in front of me.

The kilometres of lush green grass abutting the shore looked inviting. I threw myself on a patch and laid down flat with limbs spread out with my lunchbox chucked aside a few steps from me, temporarily forgotten. There was no ants or whatsoever on the grass to give me a nasty surprise. The temperature was a comfortable low 20 degrees Celsius, rendering the grass so cool I shut my eyes to soak it all in. When I opened my eyes, the cloudless sky looked like an endless blue disc. I remembered thinking, "If only I live here." Sometimes, the insignificant things in life are the truly important ones.

So it was time to walk through the jetty. There was a pot placed at the entrance urging for donations from the public. They planned to put a working train back on the jetty, to give tourists rides to the end of the jetty in future. That was new to me. Imagine getting your neighbours to do a fund raising to build your covered linkway. We have reached a state where we are unable to do anything for ourselves in Singapore, regardless how simple or trivial and whine like bitches when the government doesn't help. I donated a coin and walked.

And we walked, and walked, and walked.

When we were halfway through, I turned to look back. It felt amazing to be so far away from shore, yet still walking on land. On my flanks, was calm limitless ocean. Being a city bumpkin, I was in awe how the second part of the jetty without any railing on one side, something that I would never see anywhere in Singapore. Anyone can easily fall off playing Pokemon Go or if a strong gust of wind suddenly come. I was beginning to understand how the term "Uniquely Singapore" came about. Every single thing in Singapore is under control by an authority down to a last screw. Even a rustic place in Singapore is manicured for the purpose. Every risk is assessed and patched. Mind you, that is not a bad thing for many. To them, it is the DNA of a paradise. To a handful of small minority like me, it was suffocating. It was easy for me to easily fall in love with a place like Australia (and probably many other countries) where they tend to leave things - and people - alone as much as possible.

I saw locals fishing. There was a large octopus-looking thing chucked on the jetty, so transparent that I could see the back of its tennis ball sized eyeballs. Then I heard a kid yell, "Whale! Whaaaaaale!!" as he dashed past me. When an event roused even the locals, you knew it was something special. That was how I got my first and only whale sighting to date. The whale was cruising along some distance out but near enough for us to see the corals on its body, as well as random seaweed being stuck here and there. I felt silly as I realised it was never going to be as smooth as what we see in the books. The whale did not disappoint when it exhaled, resulting in a magnificent spout with a clearly audible hiss.

The walk with Tucky and Louise was nowhere as spectacular as my first. For a start, the skies were grey, with a storm threatening to overcome us in a distance. The ocean was rougher and understandably greyer we well. The ground was wet and it was quite windy. That didn't damp my guests' spirit, especially when Albany's excitement was contagious. We saw some seagulls along the way, roosting on some wooden logs. Some were trying to hatch their eggs. The couple posed for selfies as Albany dragged me along. Louise was a fantastic photographer and granted me one scene that I would never want to forget for life.

We made it back before the storm came. On the way out, we heard the receptionist tell a tourist, "We are expecting an electrical storm soon, would you still want to try your luck?" In Singapore, you'll probably get a, "Bad weather. No enter," instead. One place allows you to think, the other expects you to do as they said. Makes me wonder how it would have turn out if they told a certain Singaporean boy to, "Serve NS, no swimming," and he conformed.

I'll like to return to this place again soon. The Place of Love.

Who's coming along this time?

I knew the answer because Judy could finish asking Tucky if he ever considered moving to Australia and he said, "No,"' and added, "Everywhere also got different set of problems."

Tucky was right. One of the problem of moving to Australia for me is that I have to cope living apart with my family and friends like him. For some, it meant giving up on a glittering career or an established business network to start from zero and so on..... Many migrants didn't even end up scaling back to where they last stopped even after spending many years in their adopted countries. You win some, you lose some, you end up about the same. So why move?

One of the main reasons why Tucky has been one of my best buddies all these years is that he always possess some kind of zen-like wisdom since we were young. Other than the obvious common interests such as football and gaming etc. that brought us together, this is one of the traits that I enjoy and learn from him. Tucky has his views of the world but he'll never impose them on anyone. Neither will he allow yours to change his. That is something I found frustrating about him in the early years but realised much later on that it is something I have been subconsciously emulating. Someday, I shall become the Master of I don't give a fuck like Tucky. Slow but surely.

I can't say I disagree how he put things down in general in terms of migration. In fact, these days, I am more reluctant to encourage Singaporeans to move out because of their wrong expectations right from start. You will be surprised how many Singaporeans are unwilling to do trade-offs like the others before them with the new "I win all" mentality. There is no such thing in the world, even if you are clown prince of lion land. The moment you have this mentality, you have already lost. So how do you win all then?

When I heard what Tucky said, I did not say a word but a lot went through my mind. Having made the move to Perth, I don't see things the same way. On the surface, regardless of where I go, I face the same painful cycle of life, run the same rat race, face the same global warming and dance to the tune of the same group of politicians fucktards. It is still the same old shit, no? No.

Things are and cannot be the same for two consecutive moments. I don't believe in the constant state of things, or the delusion of security or stability. Even if a coin flips an incredible 99 consecutive times on head, I will still insist the chance that tails will appear on the next flip is 50% and wouldn't bet my life fortune on head. This is a weakest of human beings. When things become so predictable, we become so cocksure that the future will turn out the way it is obvious to. When I was healthy, I never saw there would be a day I would be diagnosed with bladder cancer. After a successful surgery, the impermanence of life thought me never to assume cancer will never return to haunt me again. I am losing some sleep over the medical review the end of next week.

It also taught me that one can be happy no matter where he or she is. Theoretically. It is definitely possible, even easy, to be happy living in Singapore. You know, by being grateful to being born there, having food to eat, not being blasted to dust by terrorists before I lose my virginity, the presence of Lee Bee Wah and other great things by soaking up in blissful ignorance. Even as one who cannot unsee what I saw, I can still choose to be happy by assuring myself that the impermanence of life is definite and even fortresses of oppressive political regimes can fall to it; by valuing every moment and all the precious things I still have around me, like my family and friends like Tucky.

The above is hypothetically possible. However, there is also a good chance I am probably dead by cancer by now if I never left - and would never see the impermanence of life the way I see it today.

Since I am already here in Perth, it is quite clear to me I am able to turn the wheel of life in easy mode. I am not talking about jobs, opportunities, income or cars here. I am talking about the art of mindful living. The availability of space grants me peace and calm by shielding me from what I hate most - random human beings. I will probably die before I can overcome this hate. I am trying but I am no saint. At least I admit my weaknesses all the time, proudly, and I am constantly trying to battle them. How many are you are doing that? So, don't snide because I express my strengths either. The opportunity to be a master of time here in order to take care of my health, my loved ones and everything I cherish, living or not. The better control of time is a gift to minimise suffering or even change some into joy.

With better access to time and space, I think it is difficult to argue all things are the same - for now. As I said, no two consecutive moments are the same. That is why I am still blogging. To observe how today differs from the day before. If I die here today, at least my last breathe is still fresher.

When Jen sent Tucky and wife to the airport, Albany decided to tag along because she had grown so much into them over the past week. So I was left alone in the house with Puipui, who was asleep in his cot. When I emerged from the computer nook to get a drink, the house felt so quiet on a Thursday afternoon that I could hear an unfamiliar ring in my ears. For the first time, I felt a tinge of loneliness overcoming me.

At some point before their arrival, I was unsure at how hosting them for a week would turn out. It was more about how they felt, not me. It was after all, their holiday but for me, it was my everyday life. I had to decide on an equilibrium where that it wouldn't be too boring for them and not too exerting on ourselves. Moving around with the whole village could be quite taxing. The road trip turned out pretty well, despite the rain. I didn't ask them how they felt about the trip in the end. Perhaps there was a slice of fear somewhere to hear it was actually shit and they wouldn't think of coming back again in future. I guessed I couldn't do much about it either way by that time so it was pointless to ask.

For myself, their visit turned out much better than I expected. I got to know Tucky's wife, Louise better. I always knew Louise was a super catch for a wife and I told Tucky so during the eve of their wedding when I flew back to Singapore to attend. It was a gut feel then as I didn't know her that well but after spending a week, living, eating and travelling together, my gut feel was confirmed. She was easy-going, humorous, put on no airs, knowledgeable, cooked well and was good with kids. Almost as good as my wife. My buddy got a rare catch, one far better than anything he can catch in Pokemon Go. I am very happy for him. Even better, our wives get along very well and they seem to love my kids. It is quite a shame we couldn't spend a longer time together for the road trip.

Let's see if life gives another chance.

If you want to read about our trip and the lame shit we did, let me know and maybe I'll tell ya when I have nothing better to do.

They say there are some things you can only learn in a storm, such as figuring out who truly cares for you - since anyone can love you on a sunny day. Wrong. A wise one can learn the same on a regular sunny day too. However it isn't as easy as it seems because things are never as obvious one would prefer. The only thing that is clear - nobody actually wants you to succeed. In any highly competitive society, the tall poppy syndrome is a given. The toxicity in such a collective mentality yields afflicted zombies more terrifying than any Pokemon Go hordes you may face off on the streets lately.

These abominations are unable to differentiate between public and private, work and personal. Their hearts are hollow and minds are washed beyond hope. So you come across people who secretly celebrate when you break off with your hot girlfriend or people who punch trees in the dark corners of Labrador Park after hearing about your double promotion at work. The scariest thing about these walking afflicted is, they learn to wear a mask of your friend's face. Identifying them proves near impossible for the untrained. For those who will be genuinely happy for you when you succeed are usually those who have always loved you through the darker times.

What makes it difficult to sieve through the hollowmen is that the afflicted are among those who loved you when you were not a success, because you were not a success. They tend to be the ones who will remind you most how much they care about you and what they did for you in the past, whereas those who truly love you would do it silently, while you are asleep, weak and sick - almost escaping your notice each time. So open up your eyes, gentlemen, to see who loves your heart and who can't wait to put a dagger through it.

On a similar note, not all who walk through the storm with you are friends. For some are sharing your woes and the others, will give anything to frolic in your pool of misery. Be it a stormy or sunny day, we tend to be too distracted to observe the ones keeping a watchful eye over you and those who hide in the shadows, wearing the mask of your friend, constantly plotting to outdo you in every competition you didn't choose to participate in, laughing at your blunders, celebrating moral victories as hollow as their hearts.

If you don't see, you bear no blame. For one can only see from afar, with absolute clarity of the mind.

Once in a while when I have nothing better to do I will do a short review on one of the biggest factor behind my decision to leave Singapore - population growth. It is probably unimportant to most and I don't expect many to share my views. I had guests over the weekend and there was mention of the possibility of returning to Singapore during the conversation. After living almost 5 years in Perth (and over 3 decades in Singapore), it gave me a clearer perspective about living in both countries.

I wouldn't have the opportunity for the eagle-eye view if I didn't take the chance to give myself a year or two by doing on a trip of self-discovery. My wife was pregnant and we were both flat tired at our work and lifestyles. We got our Australian PRs which gave us the eligibility to live and work in Australia. So I thought it would be a good idea to go on this trip to recharge our soul batteries. I tried to learn as much as I can about Perth over the last 5 years. There are still much more to learn, so much imperfections to pick on. I can probably write a book on it.

The long and the short of it, I found that there is something about living in a place like Singapore that just isn't for me. I always had some sort of an incurable disease that make me allergic to everything in the city. The queues for virtually anything, the rush to buy-out 5039 4D tickets, zerging at Hougang, sending kids for heavy tuition just to "stay average", the culture of everyone doing anything that everybody is doing everywhere. The noisy, the buzz, the lights are just too much for me to take. I don't think any of my friends or even my family take me seriously when I tell them that. Perhaps a few of them may even think I was trying to be funny. I don't blame them. You probably think the same for that dyslexic kid who can't spell.

The last time I checked, Singapore remains at 700 plus square kilometres and nothing in the URA Masterplan for the next 30 years suggest that there will be a significant increase in land mass by reclamation or invasion. However, 6.9 million population projection (remember, it is not a target), is still progressing really well. By the end of 2016, Singapore's population will be expected to reach a projected figure of 5,775,626.

5,775,626 at the end of 2016

That is:

144 live births average per day

70 deaths average per day
231 immigrants average per day

Some of my friends living in Singapore still think the figure is around 5 million or so today.

At this rate, Singapore's population will definitely hit 6 million before the end of year 2020, which is only 3 years and 4 months away lest you didn't notice. The 6.9 million population projection (and not target) would be reality before the turn of the next decade. Of course that is not the target, they are definitely gunning for something more horrendous, like 10 million.

We already have some human congestion cases happening this year. As sure as someone's death is going to be directly caused by playing Pokemon Go, we are just a royal cock up away from a human crush disaster of Hillsborough's scale. With the way things are being handled around Singapore these days, I won't bet a dime against it.

Peace and security doesn't necessarily mean safety.

These are the type of conditions that prompted many friends to claim that having a car in Singapore is a "necessity". You wouldn't relish dragging your 3 kids along in that MRT crowd shown in the picture above, would you? Or your heavily pregnant wife. Every working day. Fair enough, I will give it to them but it also prove my point. There are too many pre-requisites to live a life in Singapore. It comes to a point no having children, travelling light all the time and getting out of Singapore for the annual holiday trip is a good living model until we get shipped to JB to die one day. The alternative is lifelong debt servicing, getting your kids through the tuition grind, chronic stress and bad sleep. With or without Marilyn.

It is a common knowledge that Singaporeans thought that way of their own kind who left our sunny shores to venture into the wild world out there. So I am not surprised to read this online once again. I would assume the third-rated country mentioned to be Australia, since it is the country with most overseas Singaporeans today. That makes me one of the weak-willed. The title characters limit prevented me from putting the full statement. In full, it reads the "disgruntled and the weak-willed flee to third-rate countries and get treated like dirt by the ang mohs there."

I do not know if the writer bothered to slot in a snide remark for his National Day wish list. To be honest, if I were a sandwiched elite in Singapore like him, Singaporeans trickling out of Singapore wouldn't bother me so much, especially if I see them as "weak-willed." You would imagine the pleasure of a manicured garden without a single trace of weeds. Oddly enough, something about Singaporeans leaving seem to gets on the nerves of these successful people for them to bring it up often in their public outbursts. Perhaps, one needs a bigger pool of lesser people around him to feel he has achieved something in life.

The notion of "weak-willed" has probably something to do with how Goh Chok Tong labelled Singaporeans who left as "quitters". It has since been stamped permanently into the DNA of Singaporeans. If you leave, you are weak. For a population who knows nothing but to win, almost at all cost, all the time, it was a cost-effective method to keep the cogs from spinning out of place. I am not going to argue on the validity of such a label. Anyone with any speck of common sense will know to uproot and settle elsewhere requires a lot of courage, especially if his financial resources is very limited.. That isn't what I think an ingredient I will find in weak-willed people. Besides, there must be something very wrong with Singapore if it required individuals to be "strong-willed" to remain there, if that makes any sense to you.

It really depends at which level are you looking at the matter. If you are a doctor, for example, working in Singapore, you would think it is foolish for your nurses to migrate to a country like Australia. For the nurses, it makes perfect sense to be treated like colleagues by the doctors they work with in Australia than to be treated like maids by those in Singapore. Likewise, a Singaporean nurse will think it is foolish for a doctor to migrate to Australia because it means he will all that prestige he enjoys in Singapore and suffer probable financial and career opportunity costs. If you know where you stand on both sides, you will have a good understanding which side actually treats you like dirt. I am not the least surprise to read myopic views on this as well as people justifying their staying in Singapore.

So how can Singapore prevent the "weak-willed" to flee to third-rated countries to be treated like dirt by the ang mos?

Do not give a fuck

Why would you even bother to pretend you care whether Singaporeans who left get treated badly overseas unless you are secretly gloating over your deluded fantasy? It is wise and best to not give a fuck and celebrate your own success by bathing in lard.

Be third-rated

If being third-rated attracts the "weak-willed", nobody will be leaving. So be third-rated. Or even better, fourth rated.

Treat the "weak-willed" like dirt

On hindsight, it is important to treat "weak-willed" Singaporeans badly in order to retain these quitters, since it is now known they relish bad treatment. It is not too late to do that now and reverse how well the Singapore government has been treating average Singaporeans.

Import more ang mos to Singapore

The "strong-willed" will relish the challenge, the "weak-willed" will adore their masters. Win-win situation.

A Singaporean In Australia

Past Rants