Archive for November 2011

Ms Julia may call us scandalous. The PR Forumers may find our relationship perplexing at times. One day we may be tearing each other's guts out and the best of friends in the next minute. Even Jen may probably be wondering what secrets we are keeping.

We knew each other for a very short time, 2 years or so. I probably don't know very much about you except for your name, who you are married to and where will you be staying next year. We have probably met just 5 times or so. I doubt I'm anything special among your 500+ friends in Fartbook. Yet you have been helping me quietly with small things in my life since we met in the forum. I had wondered in the earlier days if you did these because I am your neighbor but you don't fuss over Mr Seet much, such as creating a facebook account for him. (yeah I know he already has one but anyway..)

Whether we shared a special bond or you are simply being kpo =p it remains a fact that you were the reason why I managed to proposed to Jen on time on the 24th Decemeber 2009. You knew what happened. You helped a great deal in making our wedding possible the following month on the 23 January 2010 because Jen's mum was against us marrying on the entire Tiger Year which would had started 2 weeks from then. You knew what happened too. It is no exaggeration to say that I may have dragged my marriage plans till today not because of my lack of intent but I had absolutely no idea how to proceed.

Today, Jen and I are happily married and expecting our child's arrival in less than 2 months. "No one names his daughter after his neighbour," you exclaimed. Not if his neighbour is Jia Qin.

At the last minute of your birthday, 27/11/2011 23:59 hrs, I declare my proposal naming my daughter after you, for approval. I hope my daughter will grow up to be sweet, helpful, hardworking, bright, beautiful and will be loved by everybody like you.

It's a special experience knowing you. I'll never forget the excitement we felt when we learnt that we ended up as neighbours and the countless laughters we shared in the forum. It is my honour knowing you and having you as my 'best-est neighbour' and hope we will always be, even if we may not be really neighbours physically all the time.

Last but not least, I wanna tell you this. Everyone rushes to wish you a happy birthday on your birthday but no one will do it when the party is over. So I hereby wish you a Happy Birthday, right till the last minute of it.

Wish you many happy returns of the day in the years to come.

Your Best-est neighbour,

Nottiboy

Erwin, born in Australia, the Young Master of the house is merely 3 years 9 months old yet you can feel his powerful aura when he questioned Jen for one instance, "Ah yi, why did you put this on MY table?" He was referring to the common dining table which Jen put her lunch on.

His mum and us always laughed it off his overbearingness as innocence. Other than behaving like a normal child who fears the monster under the bed, whines for ice cream, pisses his elder sister off and wail during punishments for naughty acts, the little boy does perform actions to back his big boy talks.

For instance, he will be the capable assistant to his dad during the installation of the new mosquito net in the window of his room, the gardener who waters the vegetables on the family's garden patch, the weeder who chomps at any plants, weeds or not, that he find displeasing to his young eyes. He can also take you to the residences of certain insects you want to find in his garden be in under a brick, a log or bush. He used to own a huge lizard as a pet and catches bugs and spiders for his amusement.

I reckon it's not exaggerating to claim he will be doing some serious work like plumbing, car servicing and painting by the time he is 10 years old. That probably will not raise any eyebrows here in Australia where you see the way kids cook up a storm in Junior Master Chef.

When I pointed the boy's little skills, Eugene dismissed it casually, "As a man living in Australia, you've got to do everything." I nodded without saying anything but I have to agree. A man living anywhere got to do everything, in fact.

I know this is contrary to the Singapore culture. That was probably another small reason why I felt left out from society. I had been laughed at countless times for suggesting doing something myself be it cooking a delicacy or perhaps making a shelf. "Please lah, pay some money and get someone to do it," would be the likely response.

Regrettably, I have never been the strong minded guy people think I am, after reading my blog. Friends will know I am the typical insecure Singaporean man who only gains courage in a herd. I would give myself the excuse that I wanted company and felt bored learning in attempting new things, such as a DIY car servicing. In reality, I needed support, courage and determination doing things together. I was too weak to pursue my own interests. I should have pursued them myself.

Fortunately I have a few good friends who tried their best to 'entertain' me. At least we go as far as doing manual car polishing and waxing and even some minor paint repairs ourselves. It would be great if we had more common interests and go "Let's do it" at many more 'crazy' things and try them before I left Singapore. It would have been great fun, just like the car detailing days. I am considered lucky to have these friends. I guess it is still okay for 'old folks' of my generation. My friend, Mrs Maggie Tan attempted to change a lightbulb all by herself recently. Though the bulb burst, I'm still very proud of her.

I wonder about the future generations in Singapore. "Zhng their iPhones X" is probably as far as they'll get?

He carries his bag at home if he wants it

He snips weeds if he wants it

He snips Rosemary stalks off the bush, but does not use the herb

He destroys cactus if he feels like it

The team leader gives instructions to....himself

He cuts holes in hedges in his spare time

He sits on the rice sack of his tenants for fun

Jen must had wondered what got into me that day in Rockingham. I was fascinated by the birds in the air. The wind was really strong that day, that kind which blew wigs away. What interested me was the way the birds navigated through the wind.

Against a strong consistent gust, some birds flapped their wings for all they could and ended up hovering on the same spot. Some birds spread their wings and stopped flapping as an attempt to cut through the very strong wind with minimal effect.

A certain bird caught me by surprise. It totally stopped flying at all and let the wind flung it forcefully backwards in an alarming speed. Then when it acquired maximum back force, it firmed up its wings at an angle and forced itself to swoop, losing a lot of height in the process but reversed its direction through an arc. That simple move allowed it to push forward through the wind.

I went back home, googled what I experienced and learnt that many birds die from exhaustion by flying against strong wind. Many a time, they have to keep flying because winter is coming to where they departed from. If they delay further they will die indefinitely so they will at least die trying. Some birds mastered the art of flying against strong wind but it is not an easy task, even for a bird.

Strong wind is a trend, likewise the wave of the seas. A trained canoeist perhaps, will know how to navigate through opposing tide. An experienced surfer rides the waves whereas the novice goes under. A seasoned technical trader executes his winning trades by going with trend without favour or fear. Going against nature is unwise for the untrained. We would be going nowhere fighting against the forces with a physical shell with limited will and might.

In life however, it is not easy to recognise the unfavourable trends. It could be chasing that seemingly unattainable relationship or that promotion in office. At times when pursuing the goal seemed too much to take, perhaps it is a good time to stop and let the wind push you back and then look for a good time to surge yourself back into glory.

Like the best birds do.

I didn't know why I had not written anything about Patrick. It would be criminal if I delayed that further. I met Patrick online. We exchanged numbers and contacted each other via watsapp all these while.

Patrick is a Singaporean like me who looks young for his age, probably a couple of years older than me. Mysteriously, his younger son is going through National Service in Singapore now. I'm not sure how this works out but I'll leave it as that.

He came to Australia probably a week after me, alone. Within 2 weeks, he got himself a rental house with a 6 months tenure, bought all his furniture himself and settled in. What a warrior. I wouldn't and couldn't have done what he did. Then he began his job search fervently. Within slightly more than 1 month, he landed himself a permanent job in a good company. He's pretty amazing.

Not only that, he cooks damn well. Well enough to curb my cravings for Singapore food. We visited him the third time today. By now, we had chicken curry, vegetable soup, pork ribs in herbal soup, baked chicken among many 'home cooked' dishes we normally have in Singapore. I felt bad feeding off him thrice and made a mental note to whip some stuffs up for him when I have my own place.

Patrick's wife and young son came over last week for a visit. Needless to say, he must be elated to have time and invited us over for a feast. They would return to Singapore later, probably already by now, and rejoin him in a year's time or so.

I wondered what motivated Patrick to come to Perth. Like Eugene, I thought I wouldn't have done it if I was in his shoes. Patrick and his wife held good jobs, probably paid up their HDB flat and his kids have grown up to marriageable age. Even if he downgrades his job to a lower paid, less stressful one in Singapore, he'll probably be alright. Well on the other hand, many people told me they wouldn't have done what I did.

Everyone has their own story I guess.

Meanwhile, Patrick will begin his new working life in Perth. We'll probably meet up less often, especially after the baby comes. But eventually when both the ships of our lives stablises in the sea of uncertainty, we'll most likely catch up really often.

I'll put up Patrick's help in resume and cover letter writing that got him astounding results to good use before Summer ends, I'm sure of that.

I took this picture at eye level, showing plenty of fruits

Picked up 2 freshly dropped ones

The saying goes this way:

"When Life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

It is a great quote to remind us to make the best out of a bad situation we may encounter in life. It's a pity the creator used lemons as a metaphor to represent the 'sour life experience'. He could have used really hateful food such as ladies fingers or brinjal. I love lemons. It is one of the best fruits ever created. It tastes well with any food you add to and it tastes great by itself. I guess you can't please everyone.

Life literally gave me lemons today and I was really quite pleased about it. The tree was at the side of the road. If someone owned it, he could not be bothered with it nor the fruits growing as the ground was littered with unwanted ripe lemons. That wasn't the first time I experienced this. Oranges, lemons, raspberries, herbs, spices, you name it. Oddly enough, these lemons are going for more than 50 cents each at supermarkets by loads so obviously people rather buy these off the shelves than to pick some for free. Eugene for example, have a huge bush of Rosemary, so huge that it could last him a lifetime of consumption, outside his house but I saw a bottle of dried Rosemary he bought from shop. I can't figure the mentality of people here at times.

I've came up with a crazy ambition.

I want to get my own place in future, select seasonal fruit trees to create a neat rotational harvest system so that I can get fruits everyday at any time of the year. Lemons will be on top of the list. It isn't a huge tree. You can get plenty of fruits for a small one barely 2m tall and there will never be worries if your tree produces sweet-enough fruits. I'll grow grapes as well, seeing how Uncle Lai did his own 'grapes web' at his backyard. It's a beautiful creeper even when the plant isn't fruiting. Of course no one leaves out useful plants such as Chilli and Tomato, so shouldn't I.

Herbs and spices don't take up much space and I'll reserve a small collection in a corner of my garden with those I use for cooking such as Rosemary, Oregano, Sweet Basil, Curry leaves, Pepper, Chocolate Mint, Thyme, etc. Finally, I'll spam the rest of the gardens with common veggies. It is probably not enough to make me self sufficient with veggies because obviously I'm too poor to afford a huge land but I'm sure it is achievable with fruits and herbs.

Back to the Lemon Tree along the road, I picked 2 of the freshly dropped ones after visiting the hospital with Jen to check the baby, tucked her in bed once more and made lemonade. Though small, they were so juicy that I extracted enough juice from just one fruit that I normally needed two to make the volume. A satisfying huge glass of Lemon Cola consumed just as I finished this post.

I saved the other Lemon for tomorrow.

November Rain is a song about not wanting to deal with love that isn't mutual or reciprocated. It is a flawless song with an amazing cinematography. The meaning of the song has nothing to do with my Secondary School life. Symbolically however, I regard this song as a representation of my Secondary School memories. The one and only song that fits. That's the reason I chose it as the title of this post.

I had a strange dream last night. Or was it a nightmare? I don't normally remember this sort of thing once I wake but I do at rare occasions, only to forget the whole dream 5 minutes later. I decided to pen this down quickly to immortalise this odd dream.

No laughing allowed. Dreams are seldom rational. Many a times you can't make sense out of it, maybe it isn't meant to be. I dreamt that I was back in Secondary School days, the old campus at Clarence Lane.

In the dream, I felt like a apparition. I could float and no one seemed to be able to see me. The dream began with me inhumanely high up looking down the little field between the band room and the classroom. I was facing the Long House. It was broad daylight but there wasn't a single soul and movement in the entire school. Everything looked still, and stone cold.

Then I heard singing. It sound enchanting and haunting at the same time. The singing was from the music room, not far from where I was yet it felt like echoes of voices from a faraway place. The song was "Amazing Grace", a song where every pupil of my cohort sang multiple times under the firm leadership of Mrs Hsu, the music teacher. The song was sang by boys. It got to be my classmates, we were the last batch of all-boys class in Class 1A, regrettably but notably.

As the boys yelled the song in spite of the annoyance of Mrs Hsu, I drifted across the Long House, across the Teacher's Room and descended at the Island. I never knew the school could look like this from that angle. Roof tiles and all. The view turned 180 degrees to the teacher's room. I saw the first girl whom I set my eyes on. She was from Sec 1C and was standing at the same place at the kerb abut the Teacher's Room before the small drain, wearing her St John's T-shirt looking chubby with that look. Then her image faded off just as mysteriously as she appeared. So did "Amazing Grace".

On my left outside the Chemistry Lab, a platoon of spectres appeared. I recognised them. They were my classmates in Sec 1A. I couldn't find myself among them. I knew why they were standing there, grinning. They couldn't go home whereas the rest could, again. The ghostly figures of my classmates blinked and disappeared before I could make a move. Behind me, I heard the shouts of Ms Chee, our PE teacher. I turned and saw my classmates running their 2.4km run.

I recognised that scene. It could be our first ever 2.4km test. The class was split into 2 groups. I was the in first group to run. 7.5 rounds later, I melted under the passageway where the little zebra crossing was to catch my breath. The next group began their run. By their 4th round, I recovered and observed my classmates. I saw the leading runner Isawadi, ran past me. He bothered to turn and stared at me with enlarged eyes and a idiotic grin, the same way as he did that day. Dude zipped past shortly after and figures after figures, then a robot stomped past and the rest. I remembered asking Isawadi how to get good stamina like him over a plate of Mee Goreng at Clementi Hawker centre.

He told me, "Eat oxtail and you will be as good as me."

Brother, you fucking liar.

Abruptly, my vision zoomed towards the drinks stall. Boys were inducing gaseous water sprouts with the straws in their glass bottles. My classmates. We even knew which drink did the deed best, that white nameless drink.

Then I floated formlessly up and through steel, concrete and wood and ended at the School Hall. There was a huge group of people. Old folks. On a banner, it wrote "25 years reunion, (1991-1994)" There were many familiar faces. I could name many of them. Many brought their spouse and kids. Some were in great ageless shape and some were shapeless and aged but all of them looked excited and happy. It was a great atmosphere. Familiar music were played all night from Firehouse to Bon Jovi, Kenny G to Guns 'N' Roses. It was all so 90s. There were dinner and performances, laughters and wild clapping throughout. Everyone felt young for a while.

The finale was a fellow classmate playing the guitar and singing us a song. Everyone joined in the chorus,

Those were the days my friend,
We thought they'd never end,
We'd sing and dance for-ever and a day,
We'd live the life we choose,
We'd fight and never lose,
For we were young and sure to have our way.
Lalala lah lala, lalala lah lala

Before the song ends, the singing gradually shifted from live to faraway echoes, the same as the dream began. That's all I could recall. Bizarre yeah?

I'm always being told to 'learn to be positive'. I've always been told I'm 'negative'.

My good friend Aku for example, always recite the quote, "If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change the way you think about it." It sounds cool and sexy just like him. Nevertheless in short, it means "Learn to be positive" as well.

Well, let the truth be known. I know how to be positive but I choose not to be. I have reasonable reasons. They shall however, be revealed another day, another post. In the mean time, I will demonstrate I can be positive and in fact I'm really good at it.

Be Positive Lesson 1 - Compare yourself with the more privileged to make yourself feel happier

I'll choose Mr Lee Hsien Loong, the Prime Minster and the most important man in Singapore. Surely there can't be a better choice? Here goes.

1. PM Lee may be richer than me, but he can't buy that Porsche and bualonglong drive it across West Coast Highway at night like I did with my Renault Kangoo with windows down singing "Civil War" on top of my lungs.

2. PM Lee may have many powerful friends, but he can't visit his friends as and when he likes. I can knock on my friends' door and shout, "Mai PCC liao, kwee men!"

3. PM Lee may be a powerful man, but he needs bodyguards. Thus, I'm more powerful. I don't.

4. PM Lee may own many beautiful properties but he can't show it off. I can spam the pictures of my HDB flat on Facebook.

5. PM Lee may have distinguished elites as his neighbours but none of them is a chiobu like MY neighbour in Singapore.

Be Positive Lesson 2 - Compare yourself with the less privileged to make yourself feel happier

I'll choose Mr Lee Hsien Loong again. The Prime Minister and the most important man in Singapore. I'm more privileged than PM Lee, no freaking way? Read on:

1. I told my dad to "Diam la!" and got away with it - many times.

2. PM Lee came to Perth to say 'Hi!' to the Queen a couple of weeks ago and went home. I get to stay.

3. My mum was encouraging and said 'Nice!' to every girl I brought home.

4. I don't have to say 'Sorry' in front of folks in Boat Quay.

5. No one dares to serve me Mee Siam with hums, ever - and I don't even have to say a thing.

Be Positive Lesson 3 - Compare "Apple to Apple" and feel good about it

I'll choose Mr Lee Hsien Loong yet again. No way my "apples" is better than his? Not if you are a positive thinker.

1. I pay less tax.

2. I look better than him.

3. My childhood nickname is "Monkey". His adult nickname is 'Clown Prince'.

4. I wear pink only on my wedding day. He has to wear pink way too often.

5. My wife is Jen, his wife is Ho Ching.

There.

After thinking positively, my ego is super inflated. I'm officially better than Mr Lee Hsien Loong, Prime Minister and the most important man of Singapore. I think I can take over the world now.

Just for jest. Wish everyone a lighthearted weekend.

I think I will be okay. It doesn't feel that sore anymore after a sleep. I didn't manage to take a picture of the eye before the minor surgery for obvious reasons - I was in pain.

For illustration purpose, I've spent a few seconds editing the 'after' picture to what it should look 'before'. Here is it:

Before

There should be a small black circle, very small, perhaps 1/10 of a mm in diameter in the middle of the white spot. It's just a speck but it caused hell a lot of irritation and pain. You can be small but you can bring a giant down if you hit the right spots with the right leverage. It's no fun being Goliath when you meet David. The white spot around the shard would be browner (Fe2O3) than as depicted in the picture.

The GP numbed my eye by dropping just 2-3 drops of..something. In a minute's time, he could probably gorge my entire eye out and I wouldn't feel a thing. That was a good thing if that wasn't his intention but to help me remove that little shard. He used a long cotton bud and rubbed on the surface of my eye. My eye didn't flinch. He didn't succeed in removing the shard and explained when metal is hot and touches any surface, it will 'stick' (something like welding).

To remove that thing, they would need an equipment with a drilling function. He explained the actual equipment would be the same as what they dentists use. Okay.. huh what?! There did not have it there so I was to be referred to the hospital. I expressed my concerns of getting my eye drilled. The doctor took his time to draw on a piece of paper and explained that the drilled would be done sideways, more like 'grinding' than 'drilling' if you knew what he meant. I did so I accepted the referral, I didn't have a choice anyway.

We reached Armadale Hospital without a glinch. I didn't know how Jen did it but she brought us there. That was the reason why I followed her to Perth. She's actually more zai than me. I was brought into a dental looking room with an eye equipment after a short wait at the hospital.

The agreement was like this: I was to place my chin on a belt in front of the eye machine, maintain non-movement while lady nurse did the work. Easy.

So after numbing my eye like the previous doctor did, I placed my head there and didn't make a movement. She examined my eye thoroughly and then took out a pencil-looking thing. When she switched it on and pointed it towards my eye I freaked out and moved.

She was slightly annoyed and told me she wouldn't be able to do it unless I kept still so that she could see my enlarged eye clearly through the machine.

1) She wasn't scrapping like the doctor described. She was going to DRILL.

2) The freaking small thing could make hell lot of noise, like a dentist equipment would. Ziiiiiiiiii.

Try keeping still witnessing a noisy drill coming towards your eye!

I did because I had to, if not it would never end. She managed to remove the black spot as well as clean the brown spots (FeCO3) around it. I thanked her for the quick job and left the hospital.

After

I slept immediately when I got back because my eye was too sore for me to do anything awake. On top of that, I didn't sleep much the night before. My eye felt very sore whenever sunlight shone on it, even when I had an eye patch (pirates of the Caribbean) on. It continued to feel sore after I woke, through dinner until I slept again. Felt much better this morning.

The nurse said the eye would heal quickly, so I should be expecting to be okay real soon. The white circle in the pupil should heal and go off in no time as well. Hopefully.

The initial aim was to write a good summary for my thoughts on the day which marks my 2nd month in Perth. The metal shard in the eye totally changed the plan. I missed it so this would be the belated post.

A period of 60 days is not very short time. In 60 days, 2 couples of friends got married and went for their honeymoon for a life changing experience. One of them never visited Europe before and finally gotten a lot of Europe in his trip. The other dude gave his maiden plane flying experience to his Taiwan trip. Another pair would be tying the knot this weekend. Over 60 days, it is almost a quarter of a pregnancy, twice of a notice period, and 8 pay days in Perth. Wars could be fought and life could change astoundingly in 60 days, wherever you are, whatever you are doing.

I looked back to my post that marked my first month in Perth. How things had changed since then. I had worked for a month, managed to avoid getting the sack, learnt a lot of things rapidly and gotten a few small injuries along the way.

I'm sorry that I alarmed everybody. I've always been a whiner and from my blog posts I probably made Perth sound like a place with snakes, scorpions, poisonous spiders and centipedes with shards and sharp objects flying all over the place anytime. I have to refute these wrong impressions I gave out.

Back then in Singapore, I faced similar hazards during work too. I could be falling from heights any day if I wasn't careful and could be hit by fallen bricks if Lady Luck chose to leave me that day. I had my fair share of minor injuries during my stint as a Project Engineer. The problems didn't follow me to Perth. I am the problem.

We are planning to shift the maternal hospital to Armadale Hospital. It will be a shorter commute for Jen. She is worried about how far King Edward Hospital can be when she goes into labour since we are staying in Huntingdale now. It's a valid point and we will be making the transition soon. Armadale will be a shorter journey with much lesser traffic and parking is free. Worth making the effort mainly to prepare for labour. The hospital also looked newer. I was actually a patient in the hospital before Jen, I got the metal shard in the eye out at this hospital.

Meanwhile Jen's tummy has expanded significantly over 1 week. I remembered I voiced my concerns to the midwife and doctor during the last appointment. She seemed to be behind in weight gaining according to the guidelines Angie provided. The doctor assured me everything was fine. So the suddenly expansion caught me by surprise. Her tummy looks so big and tight now that I'm worried if her skin will crack or something.

Each time I worry about the baby (the stories of KK hospital which I am reluctant to write about) Jen will touch her tummy and announce, "Baby is ok."

I trust her. Albany will be a strong, great woman like her mum in future.

It had been the worst 3 hours sleep of my life.

It happened last night when Dave's fury of sparks showered on me. One of them hit my right eye, despite my safety glasses on. I worked through the remaining of the entire night. I thought I had flushed it out. By 3am I knew I didn't because the pain became more apparent.

Steve told me what to do. Go to a GP the first thing in the morning. Going to the hospital by then was probably useless. I knew I would have to wait for hours and it would be the same as going to the GP first thing first in the morning. At least I could get a bath and some sleep.

I got a bath and some sleep alright. Bad terrible sleep. It hurt most when I closed my eyes. The shard is lurking somewhere, coming in full contact with the surface of my eye when I shut the eye lid. It was not excruciating pain, just felt like sand in the eyes. But you couldn't sleep with a sand in the eye.

The nearest GP opens at 8.30am. I can't sleep since I woke. If not for the flu medicine I used to sedate myself, I wouldn't be able to sleep at all. That would be worse with this condition without any sleep through the night at all. The moment I close my eyes, I felt that pain again.

I can't believe my calmness. I know I have to be calm and control my breathing. I lost it a bit last night when I realised I couldn't flush it out. It's pointless to panic, I would lose control and it would not help a bit.

I can't believe blogging as a good distraction for me either. I tried lying down for the past 15 minutes, it wasn't good. I couldn't keep calm and sane, especially with activities around the house and noises from Eugene's boy. I got to keep my eyes open for 15 more minutes before I leave for the GP. It is working, it keeps me thinking and busy at the same time.

My fate lies in the GP. I can't help myself now. Say a prayer for me. I've said one to comfort myself before I sign off this post...

Let me have the courage to accept that wanting to believe in something with every fibre of our being does not and cannot make it true. May I return with vigor and fervor with 2 eyes intact.

A Singaporean In Australia

Past Rants