Oh MP Where Are You? My First MPS

I went to my first Meet-The-People session yesterday. First since moving to Sengkang. I wanted to tell my MP how I felt about a few recent events and perhaps an old one.

So I went at about 9pm after I had to do some scouting around. You see, one of things I had to bring up, was the new roofing that was about to come up on my neighbourhood multi-storey carparks. I couldn't understand why good money was being spent on creating roofing to protect cars when we're trying to reduce our vehicle population, and also when the car park space wasn't even maxxed out yet. The latter I had to verify with my own eyes. So I went to 3 carparks, climbed flights of stairs to the penultimate deck, took a picture at each one and climbed down. A convinced man makes a better case. That's one. Two, there was a survey to build a Multi-Purpose Hall near my block. They would tear up grass and pretty trees for this monstrosity that would attract noisy vermin in the middle of the night. No, I wouldn't agree to it. Three, as many of you may know already, there are no coffeeshops in my neck of the woods. Nil, nada, zero, kosong. I was thinking - why build the coffeeshops on the damn car park roofs? These are already built to support the weight of many cars, why not people who are sitting down to eat?

Last but not least, I wanted to tell my MP that I disagree that the PM should have unfettered discretion at deciding when a by-election should be held. At least a timeframe should be stipulated in our constitution. It's a democracy, so there should not be a time when the people, regardless of how many, are unrepresented by government. I figure a maximum of 4 months. That's debatable so there should be a debate. And the decision shouldn't rest with one person. One person government is a monarchy or dictatorship. This we ain't. It's in our pledge, the one I recited since I was 7.

Guess what? My MP was not there.

He was busy handling cases over at Michael Palmer's constituency. The middle-aged persons at the counter looked blankly when I told them my issues and looked more confused when it seemed I couldn't understand why my MP wasn't at my scheduled neighbourhood Meet-The-People Session. I told them that there should have at least be a sign or something indicating the MP's absence. So I was somewhat miffed. Then I had to fill in this form stating my issues. I wrote and wrote. They were a little surprised that I could, it seems. They fluttered around me speaking in Mandarin, saying that this fella wanted to see the MP. I guess the people who came to Meet-The-People Sessions weren't that intelligent and followed all instructions from these MPS volunteers or attendees just weren't that bothered by the misnomer in context. I was the thrithieth person not to see the MP yesterday.

Turns out that these MPS volunteers don't even reside in my neighbourhood. They couldn't relate to my neighbourhood issues.

I left after passing over the form, and I apologised if they felt I came on too strong about the lack of MPness. They assured me Mr Teo Ser Luck would contact me via email.

Mike Palmer Quits! But Why?

So yesterday Mike Palmer quit. And it's time to play conspiracy theorist:

1. Mike wants to get out of politics. So a plan is hatched to 'having had an affair' and 'admit the truth' to his bosses who methodically expunge him from the system albeit with loss of face.
2. Mike wants to join the opposition. See point 1. Then proceeds to initiate the Alternative Party.
3. Mike wants to migrate. See point 1. Leaves it all behind for the good life in Oz or Peru, wife and kid in tow.
4. Mike gets flak for the still under-development extension and renovation to Rivervale Plaza. Bloody thing has been going on for 2 years I think. He's embarrassed and decides to give up. See point 1.
5. Mike's suit guy quits. So Mike follows suit. See point 1.
6. Mike is really in lurve with this second woman. Because no politician in power is allowed to get divorced while in office, he has to quit to pursue his new true love.
7. Mike is too handsome for gahmen. Gross handsomeness to parliament plot ratio was exceeded. So another plot is hatched to allow him to exit in the most amorous of ways, caught off guard.
8. Mike really just can't understand why his SMC is called Punggol East when all of it is in Sengkang. His confusion leads to disillusion, and in this cloud of uncertainty, he finds solace in the arms of another woman. See point 6.
9. Mike can't stand the Sengkang riff-raff who "see him no up" because he's Eurasian. He decides to throw in the towel but a mid-term departure would be tricky without a scandal-ish exit. See point 1.

That's it so far. Joking ah, joking. Please share your imaginings.

Food Luck This Season

I have no idea what's in a toffee nut latte. Every year Starbucks unleashes these festive drinks upon the addicted masses which slurp each drop of sweet, caffeinated deliciousness without question. The UK website says its a flavour of buttery toffee and the scent of roasted nuts, or something like that. I am wondering if it's just a a dollop of caramel and hazelnut syrup premixed into a cloyingly sweet compound design to enslave our sugar-addicted brain cells to wanting more and live through the season of merrymaking.

I had my first on Friday and it didn't taste as good as I previously remember it. I didn't have the whipped cream on the beverage and when I mentioned this fact to a TNL fan, I was chided for my wrongdoing. I had broken the code of abject gluttony and rampant overeating that is characteristic of the season. I should have let the calories in, not hold back on hedonism. Sorry, I will do better next time and loosen a notch on my belt beforehand to relieve the emotional burden and possible tummy discomfort.

Maybe I shouldn't worry about the TNL and simply enjoy myself. You know the season doesn't simply end at New Year's right? It ends at the end of Chinese New Year, a good two months plus of indulgence. I wish everyone food, sorry, good luck.

Not Quite The Whole Picture - SMRT Bus Strike

So the troublemaking Chinamen have been sent packing. After their audacious strike, they were duly bundled into a detention centre, questioned and the true deviants were sieved out. The public was alarmed at their bold move. It was exciting but we all knew, also stupid. The gahmen never deals with those who don't toe the line - the locals know this well. Maybe their crime was ignorance. The media certainly portrayed them as unruly and ultimately undeserving of pity. Quickly the matter was tidied up and justice (for the hearts and minds of politicians and unnerved public) was meted out. Bye bye bus drivers.

But wait, here's the kicker. Here's what most people observing the drama weren't told. The striking workers didn't simply decide over the weekend to go on strike and disrupt lives. They didn't suddenly band together in disdain of their employers. It wasn't a rash act. Their action came after a few months' negotiation, talks and requests made to the SMRT, or so it seems. I was pointed Vincent Wijeysingha's Facebook post on the issue and he explained the situation quite differently from what we heard or read in the press. It extols of various efforts the bus drivers made to explain their situation and seek redress; how various gahmen bodies seemed to ignore these and other foreign worker gripes; how the public is presented with the incomplete picture by official who seems to only in the side of Big Brother. The drivers were once told “You can resign and go to SBS" by their employer.

The NTUC couldn't do squat and the Transport Workers Union professed their uselessness. These guys who came thousands of miles to drive all day, for 6 days or more in a row, to live in a dorm, to earn less than $1300 a month sending Singaporeans to and fro, were now helpless. And in trouble.

I was at odds after reading the post. Trust and fairness has always been the cornerstone of out gahmen. Now I am a little shaken. If a large government-linked corporation can wield an iron fist to those who seek to be heard, then it has failed as a progressive employer. Everyone in SMRT should be ashamed. Their HR dept should quit. It was later mentioned that "SMRT has deep seated issues" by some official. You bet.

I googled "SMRT employer HR awards" and it turns out the 2010 Aviva Best HR team award went to our infamous transport operator. Guess it the team doesn't handle lowly paid bus drivers with the same talent.

Foreign Workers - A Balancing Act

Immigrants have been a topic of discussion among my friends I late. Well, more precisely, immigrant workers. There are quite a good number of them now in Singapore. They're frontline staff at shops, clean up after us at food courts, call us to sell us a credit card or insurance plan, drive our cabs and buses. I'm sure there are many other jobs they are hired to do but these professions I've listed now suddenly put them in front of us. And that's a big change.

They used to be in the background - workers at a construction site or road sweepers. We took notice but were able to quickly ignore them or rather, their impact on our day-to-day was minimal for most. We smiled and said hello when appropriate but largely, our lives were quite separate. But a tight labour market, an educated workforce and locals' preference for less menial jobs have pushed employers to look far and away for willing hands to fill any job that locals deem beneath them. Someone's gotta do the dirty, boring work, right? And costs gotta stay down right? Viva l'economy!

So this little country is awash with new migrant workers who are cheap for businesses to hire and look after. And inevitably there are many issues that have surfaced.

An odd xenophobia that has come to the fore.

It's strange because we are a nation of migrants ourselves and a young nation at that.

Strange because we seem to be biased against personal habits and unfamiliar accents rather than colour of skin.

Strange because we do not think they are trying hard enough to adapt to our way of living.

Strange because it is Singaporeans as a collective that are speaking against the perceived excess of foreign workers, not just a single race voicing concern (is this now our unifying trait? A bunch of complainers).

Strange that we feel disadvantaged in our own country by those who have less, who have come here like our forefathers did before to make life anew.

Other the other hand, there are Singaporeans who have stood up for fair treatment, better conditions and pay for these workers.

The Japanese are infamous for frowning upon importing foreign workers. They've run their factories on their own for centuries, extensions of the single machine-body-culture that is this island nation. Now the population is rapidly greying and no one knows what to do. There's already a shortage of caregivers and medical staff to look after the elderly. Young people, highly educated and pumped full of Western ideals, do not want to live their parents' lives. There is a clash of ambition and expectations and tradition it seems. Somehow it seems that the road to progress and happiness will damn a mighty country because minds are closed.

This should bother us. There are many parallels we can draw amid the stark differences. We can learn lessons from Japan's closed doors. Yet admittedly we shouldn't feel like strangers in our own backyard. It's a funny balance to get at, because any moves at stemming this flow of workers will increase labour costs and ultimately the price you and I will pay for goods and services. A connected problem, one the average thinker on the street needs to understand and accept. We'll always have immigrant workers passing through our shores. They way we feel about them is perhaps a mark of our maturity, or how much we still need to grow.

Rihanna - Diamonds

I'm so in like with this new Rihanna song and I know why. She's grown up. You can hear it her voice. Diamonds has these amazing subtle nuances and inflexions that strike at one's emotions. The way she utters 'You and I, you and I" almost breathlessly it's as if she was on drugs, or in the throes of passion or whispering in one's ear. And there are so many. These clever bits are stunning, whether they were consciously orchestrated or not. I keep thinking about the coaches on American Idol or The Voice suggesting these vocal highlights to a good voiced singer. Perhaps Rihanna has simply got better.

The lyrics themselves are down to earth and yet wonderfully metaphoric. "Find light in the beautiful sea, I choose to be happy". Maybe it's the hopefulness that radiates from the song. And in the end she's singing to you, the listener. "You and I, we're beautiful like diamonds in the sky". I can easily imagine this song playing in a sea of lighters overhead - the diamonds - as a finale in her concert.

I dare say this is 2012's Umbrella. I'll be listening to this for a long long time. The beat is just awesome too.

Turn the volume on the video and close your eyes, and listen.

One Heck Of A Ride Or Two

There are things about roller-coasters. The mere mention of them lends power to a myriad of thoughts and emotions to manifest as physical and aural expression. People freak out. Others sweat in apprehension. Some turn arrogant with stories of their conquests. Most are happy at remembering the thrill of being at mercy of a monstrous speed demon and of course its partner gravity. Others simply are glad to be alive after. If well done, roller-coasters give their riders a beautiful experience. Beautiful because it's a journey, articulated from masterful planning and science, some even designed for the best views. Beautiful also because one is helpless. When was the last time you felt helpless but in a good way? There isn't any turning back, no brakes to pull or step on, no matter how the adrenaline makes you scream and shudder and laugh. It's a wonderful feeling, strangely. And after, when the heart is decelerating and the breath still heaves and you're a little light-headed, you know you can take a little gravitational pressure. Or even attempt a jump off a cliff into blue seas. Or contemplate a bungee jump. What could be worse than being at the mercy of an uncontrollable event? Surviving is emboldening. Liberating. What's office politics and pencil pushing after descents at 60 degrees at 9.8m/s2, and a couple of loop-da-loops helixes with legs dangling, disrespecting the sun with their soles? A ride makes you feel alive, again. Like anything is possible. Everyone leaves with a new found strut, and a woo-hoo.

Both the machines at USS freak us out mostly because they accelerate to the first apex. Unlike the good old crick, crick, crick to the top, the Human and rides hurl you towards gravitational destiny quicker than one would expect. Brilliant design.

It's always the first drop that gets me. I resolve to scream early, prior to almost losing my sanity and life as I am propelling downwards. It helps cushion the shock to the system. Admittedly, I was afraid but then who isn't. I was light-headed too but damn it was shiok.

Veni, vedi, vici I guess.

Waking Up The Living

Perhaps only morticians, funeral parlour guys, nurses and doctors, and embalmers are used to dealing with the dead on a frequent basis. And yes the police of course. The rest of us hope not to hear of, see and know of anyone's who's died. We generally tend to disregard this inevitability because it is unpleasant. It makes us sad and mad. All the negative emotions possibly associated with life is part of its end, death. I think I squirmed a little inside when I got my first insurance policy and my insurance guy said "When you die, touch wood, the beneficiary...". Maybe we all do/did. Life and death, the start and the end.

It's harder when those who pass on are young. I die a little inside when I hear of kids lost in accidents. Less so for those who have lived quite some years. I could never volunteer in a kid's hospital. I'd be too upset to be sane.

A little more than a week ago, I received news of an colleague from a previous agency job who met with an accident and a few days later passed away. He is 4 years younger than I am. When I saw the posts on Facebook, I was a little petrified. I sat in my chair in the office not sure of what to think and at the same time thinking of everything. It was a strange, ominous feeling, a weight that started from shoulders, and travelled through my body to my gut. Not many times does emotion manifest in actual physiological response, the only other times is when one is in love and when one's heart is broken. This news put me in such a state. Perhaps what got me was how unexpected the news was. I didn't really know Danny Teo very well and we hung out more over beer on Fridays than work. He was quite entertaining after a couple, and always up for a deep, engaging conversation in the buzz state. I recall him smiling a lot.

The funeral was last Friday and familiar faces from the agency showed up. It was nice to see everyone and chat but the circumstances were awkward and inappropriate for frivolity and enjoyment. Some were more affected by the passing than others, and it showed on their faces.

Death always wakes up the living. People start to appreciate their family and friends just that little bit more, for a little while at least. We cherish those around us and are thankful for the love they've shown us, till the next argument perhaps. It mellows us, tempers our dark sides. Perhaps some of us have become numb to death and destruction with the way TV, video games and movies portrays gore as entertainment. Spartacus, for instance, has given censorship committees lots of 'in your face' blood and guts to ponder over. Well maybe a little numb, hopefully not totally desensitised. When it's real it's different, I hope for humanity's sake.

Be at peace, Danny Danger. We will not forget.

Testing The Limits

Had an interesting chat with a friend yesterday - she has a young child who's apparently brilliant at art but my friend is holding back the praise in case it's a fluke. My friend doesn't need the drama of enrolling her in some art academy or having precious talent washed down the Singapore education system. Not yet.

One point that struck me in the conversation was that the father, also a good friend, had once instructed the same child to draw within the lines while the mother had allowed for literally boundless expression. What a classic situation presented, the two opposites of adult behaviour expressed to a child. One rule observant, the other rule breaker. Toeing the line and jumping across. Perhaps subservient and renegade.

Most adults are followers. We expect things to be done in a certain way so that we get the required outcome. The people who maintain order in society also expect us to follow certain rules to keep society as a whole running smoothly. There will be outliers who will need reining in, those who commit crimes. In general though, everyone has an idea of boundaries in their lives.

This kid is lucky though, to have the balancing war played out at an early age, to be spectator to argument on what boundaries should be laid for her at this age. The parents care to figure this out. It's also good that she might testing the waters of her limits. It turns out that teenagers behave irrationally, or simply put, like to get in trouble, so that they can test more limits in their metamorphosis into adulthood. Limit-testing helps the brain and body figure out what it can endure and fathom, and later repeat.

Do these boundaries limit creativity? Yes and no. Some will argue that drawing within the lines will stifle imagination. Others will argue that imagination will sprout magnificence within the limits. Both valid points with lots of examples for both. Nothing's really right or wrong but sticking to one extreme is likely not the way to go. I know parents who prefer a veritable stranglehold I their kids when young, to loosen the grip as logical thought, reasoning and a defined sense of right and wrong have kicked in. Other parents have adopted 'the kid will figure it out' approach - a somewhat hands-off experiment to shape the mind and body through personal interaction. I prefer the more control with room to figure out. It makes life less difficult for the caregiver. Some boundaries are there for good reason. Others not so. To recognise this takes some level of logic and rationalisation. Kids don't do that or can't do that, hence the adults must.

What's Up Hougang?

I have little idea what's gone on in Hougang. This by-election has seen a rally each I think and some harsh words have been exchanged.

I'm just annoyed that no one else came forward to make the elections a multi-cornered fight. Hougang is a single member constituency. Practically anyone could have come forward to add their name to the hat and liven things up a bit. It's $16,000 to join the by-election shindig so that may have been a hindrance. Wasn't there a rumour Tan Jee Say was going to put his hand up for nomination? Well, it's over, no point fussing over blank nomination papers.

Last I glanced in the papers, the WP candidate was not put into gahmen as an NMP previously and DPM Teo thinks that means he isn't quite worthy or something like that. He's also stated that the WP has got what they, and weirdly enough, perhaps by extension, Singaporeans too, have wanted with 5 elected opposition members in gahmen, that that was sufficient. Someone needs an arrogance timeout. Ah Choo has promised to keep Hougang as an SMC if he wins. Yeah right. He's also asked if WP will work the ground if PAP wins. The WP has more or less stuck to the logic of having more opposition members in gahmen to balance things out although Temasek Times reported they were quite convoluted in their speeches.

Is that all that's happened so far?

The other bit that bugs me is part of the precursor to all this. Yes Loverboy MP had an affair and was kicked out of the WP. (But did he have to be?). Our PM was then required to call a repeat election but get this, he could technically do it any time he wanted. "Unfettered discretion" I think they called it or is stated in the constitution. Isn't that a perversion of democracy, having people not represented by an elected representative in parliament for an undefined period? Seems odd to me that the power to decide when the by-election can occur rests with one person. Imagine if he got kwai-lan and keep on making excuses for delaying it. Hougang could have been 'punished for their disloyalty' with abject ignorance till the next GE. That possibility of that possibility just doesn't seem right.

I think I'll go listen to a rally or two this week.

We're Better Off Being Scared On The Roads

I was in a taxi at a junction in Sengkang on a night last week. The light in our direction green and the driver accelerated gently. Suddenly, from a white car did a speedy, screechy right turn into the same road we were headed down. "Wah like that also can ah?!" exclaimed the taxi driver.

On Monday night, my colleague and I headed towards McCallum St, I to my yoga class at Telok Ayer and he to his car at a nearby building. Lo and behold, a car turned right at the junction in front of Bangkok Bank, into the direction of oncoming traffic. McCallum St is a one way street. I went "whoa" as the car sped by and into the back lane behind GB Building.

Last night, the SUV ahead of the taxi I was in did a right turn when the lights were red in our direction.

Most mornings I traverse a large junction in Sengkang to get to the train station. There are usually a few people who launched themselves into the crossing when the red man faces them, as it's green for traffic approaching sideways.

Risky business all this. For drivers and pedestrians alike. It seems like everyone is in some sort of hurry or need to get to an emergency somewhere. Quite unnecessary really given the consequences when things truly go wrong. The dumb Ferrari driver who was showing off to his girlfriend on Saturday morning didn't learn the lesson and in the worst way possible way lost his life and took the lives of 32 innocents as well. All because he thought he could speed past the red lights at 4am without consequences. Shameful and stupid.

I've told many people that drivers in Singapore are really bad at driving. Well many drivers are. They make the classic mistake of feeling adequately protected and safe in a metal shell which somehow becomes a tank trudging at 60mph down an expressway. Indestructible and aggressive. All that one doesn't learning in driving school.

Be defensive. It's fine. Give way. It's fine. Go a little slower. It's fine. Signal, for heaven's sake, signal. Plan ahead. Get a little scared and be safer, be safe. You're driving something that can kill. You and others around you.

Good Job Hope Givers Manchester City

All the noise is just deafening. Thousands of disparate voices talking, yelling, whispering. Thousands of others reacting in response. Everyone is a squawking flamingo at a beachhead, participants at an immense cocktail party engaging in urgent, fervent conversation. The voices, of course, blend. A cacophony from a captive, captured audience averaged out into a general massive persistent groan. Now and then, the volume and pitch rise and peak into a frenzy of screams for several seconds. It fades as readily as it rose. The modulation is controlled by visual stimuli. Everyone is watching. And reacting. Hands up in the air, arms crossed, some in prayer. Gesticulating approval, revelry, encouragement, dismay, anger, shame. Can one show hope? So many emotions are associated with the spectacle before them. A game. The game.

Of men and a ball. And goals.

At the heart of it all, amid the riotous jostling madness is passion. There is nothing like the feeling of witnessing a goal scored. Both ways - ecstasy when your team scores, despondency when a rival does damage. The group theory of transferred emotions is real, even palatable. When you're one individual in a crowd of thousands chanting for the same team, wishing the same ending, equally passionate for uniformed representatives of this sport and their talents, the feeling is magic. A high.

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I was about to sleep when a man's scream tore through the quiet of Sunday night in my neighbourhood. It was a shout of elation. It hit me that the finals were on and I quickly reached for my phone to check Twitter. Twitter is news. QPR equalised. Bloody hell. And a lone screamer was glad about this? Must be a Man U fan, I thought. I flicked through the updates posted by @epl_live to get a sense of the evening's scores. Bloody hell, Man U was ahead. Well, whatever will be will be. Sleep.

I woke and heard on the 7am news that Man City were the new league winners. I bounced around the bathroom for several seconds. Miracles do happen. And there is hope for us all again, for a difference, for a renewed vigor to the league. Cheers.

Blind Lab Rat Sadism

This morning a few morning radio DJs station were discussing a letter someone sent to the local paper about maths standards being too high. It seems that teachers were advocating having tuition for kids as young as 6-7 in Primary 1 to cope with the level of maths being taught. It makes one wonder how tough the maths really is for kids that young. In my time, tuition was for kids who couldn't cope, not a mainstream education system. If kids have to end up at these places jut to keep pace with school, isn't something wrong with the school system? If teachers find it difficult to get their point across in a lesson, then something is wrong with the system. With time for homework and in tuition centres, what time is there for kids to go out and play? There was another report on more Asian kids being most myopic, literally short sighted, at young ages. The experts suspect that it's because they're spending too much time indoors and the lack of exposure to sunlight and far away things is affecting eye development. So kids are getting screwed in more ways than one. Poor things.

What's also bad is the outcome for parents. With all the extra guidance kids need, they run home from work to spend some hours each day to figure out how to solve maths problems without algebra. If they can't they work harder to earn more money to put their kids into tuition centres - the throw money at the problem, hands off approach. It's one of those concerns that's stopping parents from having more kids - the cost of education and the how little they'll actually spend with their children. It's doesn't sound so bad. (It's fantastic for tuition centres. Maybe a conspiracy is afoot) But it's important to figure out how this phenomenon (perhaps uniquely Singaporean) will affect society. Will we be creating information-absorbing robots with LASIK-corrected vision who don't want the outdoors but have fun alone on computers in air-conditioned flats? Well not everyone will end up like this. Some will dropout to earn more as plumbers with better EQ and sense of humour.

Is this happening because years of kiasuism have sprouted crazed PSLE examination setters? It's the only major examination the MOE sets in course of a student's life here. O and A Levels come from England. Since primary school is the only chance to exact madness upon our younglings, we've gone extreme, testing them with blind lab rat sadism with books, quizzes, projects and knowledge.

Ok, I overstate. But we know it's bad. And we await the gahmen's official response. Parents don't hold back.

Recent HDB News

There's been quite a bit of HDB-related news in the press in recent days. The minister in charge announced with aplomb that flat sizes hadn't shrunk in 15 years and that the gahmen might intervene if too many shoebox apartments are built, and two letters about removing the Cash-Over-Valuation (COV) component of resale purchases made it to TODAY.

Well flat sizes. I'm not sure about 3-rm flat footage but I can generally surmise that both 4-rm and 5-rm flats have lost about 10 sq m in area since the 80s. The former was generally about 100 sq m and the latter 120 sq m when I was growing up. Today fresh to-be-built flats are 90 and 110 sq m in their respective forms. I remember awful 95 sq m 5-rm flats in Sembawang. It was likely an experiment the planners had - start in an ulu estate with tiny apartments and see what happens. The location was unattractive enough and the diminished size became the proverbial salt in the wound. (It didnt help that geographically Sembawang is closer to Johor than Woodlands and there's a road called Jalan Ulu Sembawang there.) There was excess supply and the HDB had walk-in selections for readily available flats. A friend of mine bought one in such a situation. So given that we're all aware enough to see through the minister's statement, there have been multiple posts on FB making fun of the poor man. One picture had him with Pinnochio's nose.

It took me by surprise that the same minister implied that the gahmen might put a stop to developers churning out tiny Mickey Mouse apartments. Really? So private developers may not be able build what they will, on land they've leased for a century? That'll send ripples through the stock market if it ever happened. Some things are best left to market forces I think. Why mess with demand and supply for a niche segment? If people are rich enough to afford such places and live there with a pet or two, let it be. They'll move when their TV gets bigger than the wall area.

COVs are a pet peeve of mine. I had to fork out $25,000 on top of everything to own the flat I'm in now. Awful. So when I read those readers' letters I could empathise. If I could adjust the laws, HDB flats would only be sold back to the HDB at free market valuations and they'd be put into the usual Balance Of Flats sales. Simple as that. No extra cash to be forked out by buyers and sellers. What's not a pretty outcome from this is loss of agents' livelihoods. The HDB could employ them for viewings (someone's gotta open the door) if that became a necessity. I consider them a bit of a menace anyway. Most are after a quick buck and are solely interested in the sellers' interests. I have viewed flats like dumps with sellers' agents with balls to ask for ridiculous cash amounts. Buyers somehow have to fork out the moolah if they want a flat with very little real bargaining to bring prices down. And bargaining is never on the valuation price but on COV. It's become that stupid.

Yeah, everyone wants to make a buck but the buck had got to come from somewhere. With mass market housing, the effects will spiral. Leave flat prices to market forces, not the COV. Ban it altogether.

It's Not Because I Am A Man City Fan

I am glad Man City won their derby. It's not because I am a City fan. It's because I am a whoever-beats-Man U-fan.

Football is a spectator sport and a team's fans can make or break a team. I suppose it's only right in some ways. If your team is doing well, you should celebrate and let off some firecrackers. But how far one team's fans go to piss off other teams' fans can sow the seeds of eternal discord. Rubbing the success in others' faces has its repercussions as it does now.

Man U has been doing exceptionally well for a good span of two decades and the talent and skills that's passed through the Red Devils' line up has been superb. Unfortunately, the fans come off as exceptional too in the arrogant department. Especially the one's with the collars up. (That's Cantona's fault) And that's galvanised everyone else to summon cosmic powers to dethrone the reigning champions. We're bored of the Red Devils' success. We're bored of how good the team is. We're sick of Alex Ferguson and his accent. He doesn't seem to go away. Many are, at least I am, glad that Newcastle and Tottenham are doing well and spicing up the top 6.

We'll wait and see how the remaining few games play out. Level on points the two teams are and it's a knife edge. It'll be most exciting if it goes down to the wire.

Any Idea Why Apple Gave Us Crap Earphones?

Around me in the train there are at least 8 persons with the white Apple earphones on, among a crowd of about 20 people. Apart from being part of the kit that comes with an iPod or iPhone and whatever recognition that comes with them, there no real plus side to these devices. They are crap. Sound reproduction isn't great and the earpieces leak sound like a broken faucet. One can bop to the tunes invading the space around someone with Apple earphones plugged into music. It's partly offensive isn't it? I don't want to have to listen to someone else's music, no matter how catchy Niki Minaj can be. Invasion of aural privacy. But then how private can a peak-hour train ride be? The bigger issue is why Apple earphones are so crappy, still. They've come up with cool computers, cool tablets, cool phones but let the device for consumption of audio, an integral part of the experience, be crap. Maybe Apple backed off to give earphone manufacturers raison d'être.

Mine are Jay Four +.

Learning About Time From Children

Had lunch with an army buddy earlier last week and apart from talking about underaged, headline-making prostitutes, he talked about looking after his kids. Although he spent time with them, one's a few months old, he felt it was hardly enough. With work he is away from his older boy the whole day while the kid survives full day childcare. My friend spends about 3 hours a weekday with his son. Out of 24 hours a day we're graced/blessed/cursed/dealt with, that's just 1/8. With full weekends (that's 48 hours) and 15 hours across the weekdays, that's 63 hours or 37.5% of a week. If one has a kid at age 30 and passes on at 80, the number of years one has in a kid's life is really just 37.5% of 50 years or 18+ years. In real time, 18 years of the kid's life of which perhaps 15 the child recognises or remembers.

That's a staggeringly small number. There was a newspaper article that mentioned some parents dumped their kid with grandparents the whole working week and saw the little monsters on weekends. Applying my rough maths above, these parents have 14+ bonding years. That's it. One decade plus.

So it's time we're sacrificing. I used to have a little post-it on my desk in my agency days that read 'Don't waste your time'. It's something you can't get back. When you're my age you think about the time you've spent with people. Family, people come and gone, friends, people who've had an influence on your life or steered it in some way, and decisions made that led you to where you are now. It's a lot of thinking and sometimes regretting. There's a Baz Luhrmann song about sunscreen that expounds 'sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind…the race is long, and in the end, it’s only with yourself'. What's not there is that life is about the interactions you make and perhaps the lives you change.

My nephew, who comes over most mornings to be looked after by my mum, hid my work bag as I was putting on my shoes. He said 'no, you're not going to work'. What he meant was 'stay here and play with me'. Because that's all that matters, isn't it?

We have quite a bit to learn from children, about time and what's truly important.

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Round Island Birthday Trip

Last Saturday was my nephew's birthday. He is now at frightful four.

I didn't get him a present. He has a myriad of toys and I taunt him with the phrase "one toy a month since you were born" if we are ever passing by Kiddy Palace or other similar shops with colourful, distracting and expensive contraptions. So getting him a variation of something he already owns simply would perpetuate the notion that his toys are dispensable much to the detriment of my bank balance. So 'uncle doesn't buy toys'.

I am more of an experience kind of uncle. A few weekends ago the nephew and I took a bus to Woodlands for my dental appointment. It's a dentist I've been seeing for a while so I'm sticking to her and the distance I need to travel for familiarity. After the quick clean we ventured to the open area nearby and lo and behold, kids on little cars whizzing about like slow bees. I knew the nephew was going to ask, so I easily relented. $5 for 15 minutes of automotive fun. His dreams of driving came true for a short while. He currently wants to drive buses, trains and ambulances. I think the turning of steering wheel that drives kids crazy, or is it the perceived control, a taste of grownuphood?

On his birthday, we happened to be out the Little India (perpetuating the 'where else do Indians go' stereotype) and were at a bus stop about to go home. He kept reading off bus numbers and destinations. "67 Tampines, I want to go to Tampines. 123 Saint Michael's. I want to go to Saint Michael's. Oh look 857 Yishun. I want to go to Yishun." His mum kept repeating that they were going home and they would go out again in the evening. This explanation was of course not appeasing the little monster. He took my hand and gestured towards each bus that arrived at the stop. He just didn't want to go home. So I asked my sister for his space diaper , stuffed into my bermudas' pocket and got on to a double decker with my nephew. Problem solved. Now where were we going?

It was a 23. So Tampines. We sat on the upper deck for the view and the birthday adventure began. We went on the PIE, exited at Bedok Reservoir Road and headed into the Tampines heartland. At Tampines, the nephew was torn between Changi Airport and Jurong East as his next stop. By train this time. I told him I needed to change his diaper and feed him something before we went anywhere. 10 minutes in the loo, 3 buns and a bottle of water later, we were on the westbound to the west. Yes we made it to Jurong East. He would announce each station's name and scan the map for the stations' relative positions to one another. Of course I was the one who had to answer the questions "What station is after Kallang?" "Lavender" "What station is after Lavender?" "Bugis" "Boooooggiiiisss". The tour continued to Jurong East station where I had wanted to get out and get a tea. But no, we got on to the northbound headed towards Woodlands. Yup, the trip turned north. He laughed at funny-named "Bukit Batok", reminisced that his grandmother had brought him to Yee Tee once or twice and counted the seconds through tunnel between Kranji and Marsiling.

At Woodlands, we left the system. I got my tea and got him peanut buttered toast. He didn't seem bothered that we'd been out for hours and away from family. I guess that's the wonderful bit of being so young, it's all an adventure, an epic process of discovery interspersed by food and sleep repeated daily. Wonderful. At someone else's cost too.

He wanted to take bus 965 to my home in Sengkang. I suggested 161 instead because that bus didn't need to pass through half of Woodlands and all of Yishun before joining the highway. It was also a double decker, his favourite. After the first junction out of the interchange, the little monster succumbed to his daily nap. Half hour later he was a bundle of boundless energy once more, tormenting his tired caregivers.

I think we must have covered 40 kilometres at least. 5hrs on road and track. What a birthday. A sufficient present? I dunno.

Another Cabby Conversation

Spoke to the taxi driver on the way home last night. Usually they are forthcoming with their rants once poked a little. The conversation, well monologue or interview really, started with the folks in front of the taxi queue not wanting to board his cab. I was graciously offered the opportunity so I took it. The cabby asked what that was about, I replied I had no idea and he began his tirade by explaining some passengers don't take his cab because he doesn't accept credit cards. He said his company, Transcab, didn't insist on all their cabs having such transaction devices. Good, old fashioned cash was king here. He continued to say these devices did not come with the taxi as a base offering to drivers. They had to pay for them. Apparently there's also a charge levied by some taxi companies for the system that allows drivers to accept bookings. That took me by surprise. It's small, a few dollars a month, but it isn't a mandatory item for all drivers. Maybe that's why some drivers hide and wait for bookings to come in instead of picking up street fares - to milk the machine for all it's worth. There are complications too - one can't reject bookings too often otherwise there are penalties or disbarment from this privilege. Taxi drivers also have to pay their companies for each booking they confirm, something like 40 cents for current bookings and $1 for advanced bookings. The driver said that the problem was that this sum was deducted by the big computer system processing the numbers. It sometimes messed up. Double deductions, deductions despite passenger no-shows, incorrect amounts etc. That's why we sometimes see drivers taking notes of their jobs and journeys, to keep records of their earnings to match against what the big computer spits out.

This guy jumped from being with Comfort for 4 years to Transab. After explaining about the misguided deductions, he elaborated that his previous employers were, in my words, arseholes. When confronted with complaints from passengers or other motorists, the company hardly investigated and sided with the plaintiffs. In circumstances that seemed unfair, taxi drivers weren't really allowed to make their case and asked to declare in writing they wouldn't repeat their 'crime' again, to a cocky manager who's 20 years his junior and wet behind the ears. "That's chialat", I said and the driver repeated the phrase. He also revealed that the Big Blue also tracked their vehicles' speeds and that some taxi drivers were fired for speeding. This is independent of any traffic police summons. Yikes. So much for getting away with it when Big Brother is secretly watching.

With the jump to Transcab he's happier. Not too much messing with deductions and there good overall camaraderie between management and drivers. After all, it needs to be a win-win. Taxi companies aren't really the bosses and drivers aren't really private cab owners.

We went to talk about how the gahmen's centralisation of transport services was gonna come bite them in the ass sooner or later. But that's for another time.

Plugged Into Fun, And Out Of Real Life

Entertainment, somewhere along the way it got personal.

There's this often used footage of Singaporeans in the 60s gathered about a black and white television at a community centre. Everyone watched the same one programme (I think it was the only channel available) and then talked, laughed, complained and perhaps cried about it together. Communal TV built a community.

Then things got affordable and more personal. TVs in homes. Smaller groups of people gathered around the set. Same mechanics of entertainment, just less crowd and noise. Similar post-event dynamics too, just that we talked about the shows we watched in school or work the next day.

The groups got even smaller when people started getting more than 1 TV set into their homes. On average there are probably 2.3 TVs in every local household, slightly higher number than the population replacement ratio. (I'm sure there's a correlation between fewer kids being born and more TVs per household).

So the unit that watched together now is split between those who want to be entertained by different content.

Notice the same thing happened with radio and music. From large gramaphones and wireless devices, technology made things smaller and portable and inevitably personal. The Walkman was the clearest expression of this. It simply revolutionised the concept of mass-market personal entertainment. It was left to the imagination and processing chips to catch up with each other from that invention forward. Discmans, MP3 players, iPods, MP4 players, FLV players, portable DVD players, tablets and now phones.

Today, it's one to one. No one really shares their entertainment except for putting stuff up on fileshare sites.

The advancement to personal digital entertainment has also digitised society. I'm plugged in, so don't bother me. You're plugged in so I won't bother you. Every morning on the way to work (like now) I see most of my fellow train commuters attached to some kind of electronic device, usually their phones or an IPad. Some even whip out and start using their laptops. Music, movies, Facebooking, whatever. It's action at the individual level. Ironically with social media it's doing stuff alone that streams out to everyone else usually not in present company, like setting off a remote controlled bomb. Not many chat or even make eye contact. Apart from the train announcements, the whoosh of wind going by, the jang-ge-jang of track movement, and the muffled noise escaping bad earphones, train journeys are quiet, lonely affairs. Crowded but alone. We've traded interaction for personal fun for each one. What's worse is that these people become oblivious to what's around them.

Funny, sometimes sad. I've seen families come in and everyone suddenly gets plugged into their phones, tablets and game consoles. No one says a word. Or maybe their on some chat. I doubt it. Some parents give their kids their iPhones to shut them up with some all-consuming 99 cent game. These kids may grow up constantly looking for entertainment and lack the social skills to engage with people. What kind of future are we training them for?

We need to start putting out tech toys away and start listening, looking, talking and feeling. At least for a little while.

The Oldest Profession In Lalaland

I've had this discussion on prostitution before. In JC, I was shocked and appalled that the gahmen would let women parade about the streets selling their bodies for a price. Morally wrong and unacceptable the naive mind thought. In some GP lesson, the tutor happened to say something like "It's illegal but tolerated". I was puzzled, the same naiveté pondering and conflicting with the true state of affairs.

It makes people curious. I have been in car rides where we intentionally took the slow route through the Changi Point carpark, the Geylang backstreets and Desker Road to catch a glimpse of the seedy side of squeaky clean Singapore.

And there is life there. It opens up the imagination and makes one think about what it takes a society to function completely.

Prostitution in Singapore is probably controlled and monitored. Too few then horny men do stupid things. Too many girls then it makes the country and neighbourhoods look bad. There is also the spread of STDs to consider. If prostitution was eliminated from the usual places, then it'll filter off to the housing neighbourhoods. With one vice comes another. There'll be gambling dens, drug parlours, gangland warfare and late night wan tan mee stalls all over the place. Horror.

I wrote about this because the case of 40 or so men having had sex with an underaged girl is splattered across the papers' front page today. And the only guy who pled guilty was a school principal. Wow, an educator to children. He's certainly got parents questioning who their letting teach thirt kids, and how the gahmen screens these institution leaders. I foresee much debate about this. And maybe spycams.

A Dollar Amount On Fun?

The nephew took us on a strange joyride yesterday. After breakfast in Hougang, the little monster decided he wanted to go to Tampines by bus to take the train to Changi Airport. So eventually we took those two modes of transport to his 'favourite place'.

At Terminal 3, they've built these slides. One's from Level B2 to B3 while a taller one has people plummeting down from Level 1 to B3. The nephew and I started from the shorter slide, a metal cylinder curved to ensure we get pulled by gravity in not too much of a scare. Yes I was the only adult the time who seemed to be interested in scaring himself silly for 5 seconds. We did this one twice.

We then took the lift up to Level 1 to attempt the Big One. You have to say that in a low slow voice. Go on, try.

Good. There was no one in the queue and so we thought whoopee. I would of course go first to ensure it was fine. Lo and behold, we needed a ticket to get past the gantry. And $10 spent anywhere would get us one ticket for one ride. Goodness.

It's strange when big companies do silly, stingy things like this. Would a parent or guardian be moved to spend $10 or more on anything to get a ticket for a slide? And one ride on a thrill ride like this is never enough. A constantly whining child may well get away with arm-twisting his frustrated but rich parents but not this uncle.

It would have been simpler and more lucrative for Changi Airport to simply tack on a $1 coin system to the contraption. They'd be racking in the moolah. So the thrill of Terminal 3 remains under-utilised because of some bad business sense. If they didn't want much usage why have this plaything anyway? If they did want usage albeit with a $10 price tag, it isn't working. I doubt the shops have seen an uplift in sales because of this grand plan to milk parents. (I'm starting to understand also why bringing kids up in Singapore is horrendously expensive). So it's lose-lose, airport dudes.

Football Is Great

I'll watch if it's available. I'll attend if there's a chance. Nope, don't have the football channels on TV. The MIO guy was at my door some weekends ago and asked if I enjoyed the sport. Now that the Euro's coming up, I'm sure I'll be accosted by more sales reps on the street. $60 to watch a month of matches. Not sure what I'd compare that to - 4 CDs, dinner for 2-3, 4-5 beers, 60 one-dollar apps? I won't go mad if I don't get my fix of it. I listen out to the reports in the morning on the radio. Wigan 1 Man United 0 made me smile. Then Man City winning made me grin too. Somewhere in there I'm a Liverpool supporter. But their journey each season is a veritable roller coaster. They're like 7 or 8 in the league table, no possible contention for the title. Then there's a resurgent Tottenham. They've been on like firecrackers this season.

The tipsy turbulence (those last two words auto corrected from topsy turvy) nature of these rankings and what happens on the pitch makes things interesting no doubt. Well, off the pitch the players make headlines too - some blokes getting charged for rape now. Others had affairs they're not proud of. Footballers are celebrities and the game isn't just on the pitch anymore. David Beckham taught us how to milk talent for mooollah. Not surprised if parents are raising kids to be footballers. We're suckers for entertainment and pay big bucks for it.

Singapore football has seen a re-ignition of sorts too. The boys got back into the Malaysian league and are now number one. Spirited bunch of fellas. And they're trying hard. That's what we like to see. There's a galvanising quality to sport that's unmatched. It brings a country together and in these times, it's more important than ever. The only sucky thing right now is that we haven't got a proper big stadium to get the roar going again. It'll be 2015 I think when the new big one in Kallang is ready. Nonetheless we should all get behind our team and lift them up, win or lose. The pride helps sustain the energy and spirit. That's what great about football.

Money Without Values

It must be a little scary to live in China. There are over 1 billion people making a living, a population so big that people are discouraged to have kids. Everyone can quietly bonk around with contraceptives on or in.

Having many people around makes for an interesting dynamic. Remember that movie, The Gods Must Be Crazy? A shiny thing, a bottle emptied of its effervescent sugary contents and worthless to one consumer, was thrown off an aeroplane into the arid vicinity of a rural tribesman. Consumer number two, the tribesman, now took possession of this thing the Gods sent him and passed it around his village. Kids used it to play games, adults used it to pound grain. Then as human nature would have it, two people wanted the precious bottle at the same time. Person B snatches the bottle from person A, and the two-way tussle continued for a while before the anger boiled over and tempers flared. I think Person A then hit Person B on the head with the hard bottle. Someone got hurt.

So my application of this on-screen scenario to real life in China is this - this is a country that in less than two generations ago was singing the prices of Marxism, sharing and collective profit and burden. They openly denounced western values and probably swore never to be slaves to democratic enterprise. Since then, things have so dramatically gone the other extreme that I feel not everyone has managed to understand that having precious things suddenly in hand can alter the way society functions and behaves. In their communist past, religion was suppressed. For many of us, precepts of morals, ethics and the human condition are learned through our parents and often religious beliefs that aim to make us better people. There is an appreciation of what greed means and also what it's consequences are. I am not sure if everyone in China got that lesson.

The whole world's factory model has seen money flow through the Great Wall in immense quantities. If one own's some sort of production facility in China exporting some good or another, you've probably rolling in the dough. Production plants in China have so significantly affected the world economy that most of world resources now go into China and most of our stuff is made there. Factories in Western markets have had to close because it's cheaper to make things in the Orient.

Anyway, the point is there some very rich people in China. With money, one obviously can wait to flaunt it (remember shiny bottle story. These persons have bought big houses, bigger boats, fast cars, 80% of the world's Louis Vuitton collection, and any other fancy thing that's for sale. But money in China makes people bizarre. There was a lady who bought a dog from Tibet for like a million bucks and got 15 limos to go to the airport to see it home. So it's a dog, the dog doesn't care how it ends up in its gilded cage. The lady cared about what other people thought and saw, a lady with the money to make this spectacle happen. It seems it is no longer about appreciating what is bought but the ability to simply just buy.

The problem with showing off is that other people want the same things too. They mimic each other. Someone has a new shiny thing, everyone wants that same shiny thing. It's human nature. But it's worse among people who have had little for a long time, who have been asked to scrimp and save for the nation. The mindset in the Chinese has changed along with the economic boom. Individual wealth not collectivism is foremost now, and comparing one's bank balance with your neighbour is now de rigeur. I have friends who have been to China and were asked what their salary was within the first minute of conversation with a local. Maybe that's why we hear of oil in drains being recycled and melamine put in milk powder, all to make a buck.

The trouble is also that no everyone is equally wealthy. No society really is. But in China's case, there are polar opposites. That can only spell trouble. The poor and by extension, the least happy, will make noise with their pots and pans, and may resort to knives and spades if they get desperate. Ironically, that's what started the whole communist movement way back two centuries ago, the unequal distribution of wealth. Someone's bound to get hurt sooner or later, with or without the shiny bottle.

It may seem strange that i'm writing about this. It's been on my mind for a while, how society can ruin itself. Maybe it's with age one also thinks about contentment and detachment. People who have money should spend more time thinking about these things. Maybe they'd be happier.

Once A Month At A Machine

How do you pay your bills?

Just earlier, I was at an AXS machine slipping and sliding my credit and ATM cards, and keying in bill account numbers. A few minutes and it's done. I do this once a month, near my home.

I used to have a number of paper bills that I would scan at the AXS device. I got most of them, the Singtel, Starhub, M1 (Goodness, I have relationships with all 3 telcos) and the Town Council bills put onto my Citibank credit card. They've got a smart One Bill service that's win-win for me, with less messing about, and for them, after all it's revenue too. The only friggin bill that's out of this loop is the utility one. Apparently I can only set up a direct debit GIRO withdrawal for that, which I refuse to do. The Citibank One Bill still gets me points you see.

I did pay through Internet banking services before but once the DBS system miscounted a transaction and I lost some cents. I have been wary since though I go back to it now and then.

One Bill is one reason why I use only one credit card. I also don't want to mess around with multiple bills each month, too many numbers and costs to keep track of. So I keep the relationships as simple as possible. I am a downer for cold call credit card salespeople. I stop them in their opening spiel, tell them I'm not keen, that i have only one card I use and go back to work. No matter how exclusive the damn offer is. Same thing for the floating zombies at train stations trying to plug me their latest greatest no-fees-for-a-lifetime cards. Yeah right.

Well that's mundane enough for a Tuesday. Maybe Citibank should give me points for selling their services.

Palestine, Another Day In Paradise

I saw Ross Kemp's Middle East documentary on BBC Knowledge yesterday. He took a trip across the Israeli border into Gaza and explored what life was like in this half of Palestine under Hamas rule. There was the usual scenes of destruction, buildings half-destroyed, rubble everywhere. People went about their lives around the concrete mess, their cars whizzing about like organised flies on a horizontal, pock-marked asphalt plane.

Mr Kemp went around talking to business owners and locals about the last major Israeli offensive, Operation Cast Lead, that was meant to take out terrorist infrastructure but left most of the city in ruins instead. Homes, schools and government buildings were destroyed. The people, upset, got on with their lives, most quietly waiting for something good to come their way.

Mr Kemp noticed the kids on the streets. They didn't play with toys like balls and dolls but with guns and rifles. Almost all the shots edited and put in as final cuts showed Palestinian kids in this manner. It was alarming, enough for the BBC presenter to get an opinion from kids seeking psychiatric treatments in a local hospital. This was the bit that got to me. All the children, effectively under 12 years of age, hated Israel. They had witnessed their parents and siblings get hurt by or be killed by "enemy" soldiers or in Israeli attacks. A girl talked about seeing half her mother's head blown off. Another boy said that his life was shit and it was better to be a martyr and be with God in heaven. The boys around him agreed with his views. Later, Mr Kemp got access to a terrorist camp and was unwittingly part of a video recording session where a would be suicide bomber was making his last declaration of faith and resolve, to be broadcast after his personal attack on the enemy. The stunning revelation was that he was a 24 year old university graduate with a law degree, a thinker and idealist, driven to this fatal extreme.

That's the routine state of affairs there. Kids who have seen death and have the ambition to die. Grown men who die to make a stand. It's so depressing to hear from kids that their lives have no value in living form. They think they're better off hurting other people as they kill themselves as suicide bombers. There is no value to being alive in Palestine. As Mr Kemp alluded 'if all you've known is hostility, then that's all you'll be, hostile."

It must be truly awful to live like that. It lends another perspective to our daily gripes, into the 'yeah, that's not so important any more' bucket. No parent watching would be able to keep a dry eye I think. To know of sweet kids with warped ideas of how life is, how it could never be better than rubble, bombings, few male role models, weeping widows, a constantly reiterated hate for an enemy they cannot see, one that comes in the night and blows things to bits. It's real bad.

What's worse is that almost no one can change the situation. Not without Israel's permission. Not even the UN it seems.

Another day on paradise yeah.

Checked Out An EC in Punggol

I followed some friends to an Executive Condominium showflat on Good Friday. Sited in Punggol, it has drawn quite a lot of attention. In fact it was almost sold out, with a few scraps now left for those late to the party.

So things that picked at my interest:
- The model of the blocks with fake trees and toy cars had two blocks out of the six missing from obvious representation. They were marked as flat rectangular shapes on the plan. The attending sales rep said that the blocks were removed to give a complete view of the estate. Ironic.
- The minimum number of bedrooms available is 3. No studio, no mickey mouse flats. Target audience is clear: families or couples intending to have a few little monsters. They even had 3-bedroom units with a roof terrace. Posh.
- I was especially interested in the dual-key units. A sort of studio apartment with bath and kitchen attached to the main unit, with separate doors from a common entrance. The sales rep indicated that couples with parents or those keen to make some rental income were purchasers of the single stack of 4-bedroom dual-key units. In fact, he was surprised at the demand, they all sold out quickly. I think the developer would have more of these huge units if they knew better. They're expensive.
- There isn't any ethnic quota for ECs. In all likelihood, these gated compounds would turn into Chinese only ghettos. It's kinda sad. Upper middle class, hanging out by themselves, breeding elitism, taunting the neighbourhood with swimming pools and tennis courts. Sort of bothers me.
- Payment - it starts immediately. From low amounts in the few hundreds and upon TOP it goes into the low thousands.

Well then. I ain't getting one anyway. Good to know what's going on.

Being Too Nice, Too Bad

Nice guys end up last.

Colleague shoved me into a corner meeting room yesterday and told me news about people movements in the office including a new old hire. It was not a negative revelation. I was more glad it was sensible. Anyway, I proceeded to rant on about the amount of work I have on my To Do's list because I was asked how the new role was shaping up. Sigh. Then colleague said I was too nice, that I shouldn't be helping so many people solve their problems. Interesting eh. I remember in the army some old fogey would tell us NSFs "see who need help, go and help them". It was perhaps necessary advice then to keep potentially idle hands busy. These days it ain't worth it, so it seems. The corporate world laughs at those who slog. If you ain't done by six (pm), something needs to be fixed. Same colleague was saying that it was the stability and familiarity of the job the was enjoyable and in fact necessary for maintaining sanity. I need to do the same - keep to the boundaries of stability and familiarity to establish a new status quo of anti-slog. Well I'm hoping for things to smoothen out soon while I tackle the fires and simultaneously take a step back to gawk at the big picture.

Nice guys end up last in the office.

The Weather Lately

A few nights ago I jumped out of bed. There was an extremely terrifying explosion outside and from slumber, I was instantaneously hurled out of comfort zone to a crouch next to my bed, eyes partly blinded by the white flash.

That flash was lightning and that explosion was thunder. This was 4 o'clock in the morning. I got out of my room and found my mum awake too. "Wah scary ah" she said. I couldn't agree more. I have no idea what a real bomb drop is like except from what I've seen on film (this is despite being in an ammunitions depot while in NS) but I guess it would be as terrifying and paralysing. Perhaps more paralysing and painful with limbs detached and my foot in my mouth.

I couldn't really sleep for the next hour or so, By 8am the rain had stopped and cleared out any clouds to make the nicest, coolest morning we've had in a long time, traffic snarls aside.

On Sunday, it was dry as a bone outside with the heat searing down upon us like meat grilling on a barbecue. Madness. Everyone was running into the safety of shopping malls to be accosted by equally fuming sales assistants peddling their things to uninterested passersby. The heat was like a warm-up to the hot yoga class I had that day.

The weather has been freaky. Short sharp bursts of turmoil at either extremes of the scale. Scientists sort of predicted this. I'm not sure how. Probably from simply looking at the sky and writing their observations down. Extrapolating from facts. Some blame global warming. Others simply say it's normal. Others point to fewer trees to absorb gases and water. Then there's pollution too. Maybe the world is ending. (I'm sure there are apocalypse fans out there who are cheering the apparent onset of planetary destruction, the end of liver with onions, Justin Beiber and Euro-techno music too) Any way meteorologists slice and dice it, it's the man on the street still being left to his own devices - air-conditioning and umbrellas.

With all the recent wetness, I guess it's an opportunity to develop better umbrellas. And better non-slip shoes.

Radio, Always Been An Earful

I've been listening to the radio since I can remember.

90.5 used to be on in my home when I was growing up. My dad used to look out for the news all the time. "You don't need a watch. The radio will tell you what time it is", he used to say. So I grew up on English radio with all kinds of music feeding my ears, and knowledge of what was going on in the world.

I listened to Glen Campbell, John Denver, Donna Summer, The Eagles. I remember asking for Irene Cara's What A Feeling in 1983 on a kid's dedication show I wrote into.



I remember listening to news about Cambodia or Kampuchea rather, the British sailing down to the Falklands 30 years ago and Ronald Reagan getting shot at.

I remember also when Perfect 10 98.7 came online. It was funny having another English station to listen to. So from Victor Khoo's Charlie show and Roger Kool's Saturday Spin (RIP) I graduated to the pop culture sold lavish by this new station. I remember the first episode of American Top 40 with Casey Kasem. Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar On Me was at no.2. Dunno why I recall that. Perhaps it was my intro to harder rock but I'm sure I must have experienced some Iron Maiden from 90.5. Maybe I didn't like it till now. Maybe rules were stricter then, no devil music on the airwaves. I remember local DJs couldn't play George Michael's I Want Your Sex (bet that has another meaning now) and Color Me Badd's I Wanna Sex You Up. These days, goodness, almost anything goes. I think the US has stricter radio censorship laws than we do.

These days I partake in a variety of earful pleasures. I listen to Gilles Peterson and Pete Tong in BBC Radio 1. I started with UK pop music in the late 80s and stuck with ever since. the British is way more cutting edge than the stuff America puts out. More range and diversity, and almost anyone can be a star. Come on, Cliff Richard had Christmas number ones in 1989 or something. I also got hooked to house and dance scene through the BBC too. I grew up on Paul Oakenfold remixes. There was Bom Da Bass, S Express, MARRS, Technotronic, Inner City. Anyone remember Bring Me Edelweiss by Edelweiss? God what a mad song. And whenever there was a super ballad or awesome rock song, that'll go number one too. Right Here Waiting did that in 3 weeks from debut. Now why did I know that? I used to track their weekly top 20, on paper. It was an obsession for about 2-3 years. Silly things teenagers do to think they're cool.



So besides the dance and new music, I listen to BBC 4 comedies. They're bloody funny. Even Just A Minute is funny. They have guest panel organized specifically so that everyone makes a fool of everyone else. How liberating is that. Start here >>

Local radio. Well I've currently got my ears on 98 FM in the mornings. I can't stand 95 FM for their self-indulgent crap. I jumped from 91.3 because they got too heavy with the hiphop. 90.5 puts me to sleep on weekend nights. Sometimes I wake up in the wee hours and hear The Way We Were and mentally sing along.

Letter To The Papers - Ethnic Quotas Not Applicable To Duxton Flats?

This is the letter I sent to TODAY paper re HDB's latest Balance Of Flats sales.

"About 40 or so units at the much coveted Pinnacle@Duxton estate are available under the latest HDB Balance Of Flats Sales exercise. These flats are open to buyers from all races. From the last sale however, it seemed that no more flats were available to Chinese applicants. I have Chinese friends who were then not able to secure a unit based on restrictions under the HDB's ethnic quota policy. Did the HDB lift these restrictions for the current sale? If so, under what circumstances is this policy aimed at ethnic and social integration flexible?"

It sort of riles me that the HDB plays these games with us.

What The Park? Who Changed Its Name?

My new old favourite song right now is 'Moving To New York' by The Wombats. It came to me in a 2-disc CD compilations called Q Anthems. Awesome songs, all of them, as the name of the album implies. (it was almost someone's birthday gift but I kept it instead)

Speaking of names, some bloke in the paper Geraint Wong wrote today that the gahmen had remained Bishan Park Bishan-Ang Mo Kio Park. This is the first time I've heard of this change and like Geraint am equally surprised and a little appalled. The park's been around for 24 years and now after a full generation has known it such, some bugger thinks changing its name is a good idea. It's like changing someone's name after his entry into adulthood. Weird and wrong. (Unless a sex change was involved.)

This placename thing has been in the papers quite a bit. There was Tommy Koh's thing about Petain Road, named after an infamous French general who farked it up a bit and the French aren't quite proud of anymore. Well it's more downright scorn. Then there was someone writing in about the confusion between Farrer Park and Farrer Road MRT stations. That's a nice apt example how the lack of a Ministry of Common Sense has allowed this deceptive trick enter our transport system. The two places are good several kilometres apart separated by Newton, Balmoral, Stevens, Whitley, old NIE and the Botanic Gardens.

One of my biggest problems is that they've decided to name the train station outside Hwa Chong, Tah Kah Khee station. Some of you might go Tan who? Other will nod in appreciation. He was the guy who founded Chinese High and so some people thought it would nice to name the station after the bloke. Intention's all good but seriously nothing else in the area is named after him. There isn't any location that bears affinity to the man. None I can recall. So picking a name like this out of blue doesn't help anyone much less the residents of the area who will use the station every day, constantly reminded of the fact that things don't quite make sense anymore.

Then there's going to be a trio of Tampines stations in Tampines. Two of them will have a 'east' and 'west' appended to the estate names. I can already imagine the lost aunties, laden with vegetables from the market, waiting in vain for fellow oldies who are similarly clueless at other Tampines stations.

Once, girl on the phone, from a travel agency, introduced herself as Carrot. Yes, the root vegetable of Bugs Bunny fame. Alrighty then.

Time will heal this set of wounds I guess unless sanity kicks in sooner.

Last Second Wardrobe Disfunction

So in the last hour, I've had breakfast, brushed the teeth, re-ironed the trousers, sprayed the Hugo on, put all the necessary office attire on, inserted all the implements and tools of daily existence into the right pockets and went to get my shoes. Gave two seconds thought to the colour of the socks i'd be stinking up today (black with grey trim at the top), swung the dining chair nearest the front door to face the escape route, and sat down. RRRRRIIIIPPPPPPPPPP!

Fell apart at the seams. The trousers, not sure how old they are, gave way to generous gap at the seam against my, get this, my right thigh. How odd. Usually it's an equally stressed spot like the bum that enjoys the pleasure of sudden aspiration after a loud tear in the pants. (BTW pants mean underwear to the English and trousers are the proper term for the clothing item I have an issue with morning). I quickly deduced my equally large thighs coupled (don't want to think my right is larger than my left) with my fat wallet led to the literal fashion disaster. Not fat with money but mostly receipts which means I spent money not saved it.

The gaping hole beautifully avoided the pocket seams and progressed nicely down a 8-10cm path from the mid of the pocket downwards, exposing the tucked shirt and boxers and a bit of furry thigh. Sigh. Wrong place for a tear, worse timing for a fashion disfunction. It's not a malfunction like what Janet Jackson had. Her bra got unhooked sort of as Justin was canoodling her on stage exposing her ta-dahs. My pants trauma is a tear. Her problem could've been quickly rectified I guess. Masking tape couldn't save my trousers.

Yes I realise it's strange comparing my calamity to the one a megasuperstar had on stage in front to TV-watching millions. But a problem nonetheless. I had to quickly find and iron another pair (thank goodness the washing dried up nicely) and restart the exit for the day.

Not bad, quite a few fair words about a hole. Not a thesis on black or worm or drinking ones but an actual hole in the pants.

The other realisation that occurred to me while typing away was that all my recent posts are all me, me , me. Terrible egoist in me rearing it's literary head. Horrid. I need to reposition my focus. Well the sky was nice today. Orange dips against low clouds in a baby blue sky.

Dreaming About Dream Jobs

It's not happening in the train this morning.

So I had a brief daydream about what I would like to be doing on a daily basis and somehow eke out a living from.

1. Giving people directions. Yesterday I was going back to the office after acquiring a spot of teh-si when a lady stopped me along the pavement outside ex-SIA Building and asked where the MAS Building was. I brought her to the road's edge and pointed. That's was mildly fulfilling. Didn't have to check my iPhone either. Some weeks, a young lady standing at the junction of Anson and Maxwell asked me where the Ministry of Manpower was. I replied she was got off at the wrong MRT Station. Think she mixed up MOM with MND. Poor thing. So I figure telling people where to find things is a nice enough job. Been reading maps since i was a wee kid so i guess i am a sort of natural at pointing things out. I envision a simple table with a laptop empowered with Internet connectivity and perhaps a small printing device stationed at one of the busier MRT stations would be adequate. A giant "i" above the spot. A not so taxing vocation, not for the whole day of course, it might get dull.

2. Play music - Fun isn't it? Just listening to songs you like. Imagine doing it for money.

3. Taking pictures - Many of us have cameras and some are better photographers than others. Well I ain't brilliant but I enjoy the craft. I haven't quite escalated beyond a more complex point-and-shoot machine but it does the job. It's enjoyable. I see the potential of captured images in many many things, beyond the usual group dinners and pets. There's pattern, shapes, kaleidoscopes, crowds of colour, light, the lack of light to capture. It's seeing the beauty when others ignore it plain sight. That's photography to me.

4. Writing - Perhaps the easiest or the hardest to achieve out of the whole list, depending on when inspiration strikes. We all can write. Whether it's a good story is up for debate. Usually some professional's opinion will come into play and the intense criticism will be too much to bear and kaput, en of ambition. One is meant to pick one's manuscript from the ashes and rekindle the flames of life into the words and paragraphs so that they once again tell a tale worthy of merit. Something like that. No I have not written anything besides this blog. Maybe I should summon up the will and energy to sit down and do something about it. It won't be easy. Much chocolate and coffee and some beer might be necessary (food for thought).

That's it for the morning. Just realised I shouldn't be at work this early. Stood up for a conference call. Wtf.

Watching The Box

I realised after writing that title into the appropriate field that it could lead into a study of Schrodinger's cat or perhaps an essay on the psychology of people who expect something miraculous to happen by just waiting around or staring at things.

I am actually talking about watching television. Some of you will now go "who does that anymore?". I do and I ain't really into compu-tv. Anyway, some of the stuff I'm into is the last season of Lost. Yes, most of you already what happened. For me it's a slow reveal, a climactic end to the crazy episodes of yore. Remember the polar bear and when you first knew of the 'Others'. All that cool plot-twisting is coming to the fore in an ending I'll see next week. Is it a letdown? Dunno, don't care.

The other cool thing on the box now is American Horror Story. Put together by the same people who do Glee (quite refreshingly surprising to know), the show is about this older couple with a daughter who leave the east coast to live in the west coast to escape their metaphoric ghosts. What they don't know is that they've made their home with real ones, in a really creepy house. The story flows and ebbs between the present and past, connecting the dots between current spooky happenings and past gruesome murders. Awesome cinematography and editing. The plot is riveting not because I'm a horror film junkie (oh no, really, no) but human and humourous (yes morbid funny) elements come through quite nicely too. And the actors, goodness. They play their roles so well.

Of course I try to catch the comedies. Life is miserable without the funnies. There's the repeat of How I Met Your Mother and the new season 7; repeats of 30 Rock and Nurse Jackie; season 2 of Community is better now.

Well that's all folks. Entertainment at a glance. I ain't a couch potato. Not really.

Bring Kindness Back

So yeah, I haven't been writing much. Or it's been in separated spurts of mad typing. I figure that a bo-liao free willed post in 10mins in the train couldn't hurt. After all the Internet is about content and any content is better than no content - quite unlike what people say about shutting up when there's nothing good to say. Or at least it'll keep me occupied on the way to work.

If anyone read the last post, he/she will realise that I am affected about how unkind or uncivil people in Singapore have become. Everyone seems to looking out for themselves and oblivious to the needs of others. Someone (Twitter handle @Dustygirl) responded to my tweet about no one giving up their seat in the train to a man on crutches in this way:

"@gurms ppl have e right to remain in their seat as everyone paid fares. It should only be offered out of goodwill or by polite request."

I replied that logic meant the MRT needed to have seats available to all passengers. Everyone pays a fare, don't we all deserve the same on-board experience? Maybe the bit about goodwill or polite request is part of someone being kind and thoughtful. But it's a stretch. What happened to people opening doors for someone carrying bags, holding lift doors open, being patient with an older person? Basically helping someone else. (And perhaps not blaring one's car horn at the slightest hold up.)

Civility, that's what I'm asking for. Isn't that what makes a mature society? There's still a place for it in ever-changing Singapore right?

Or am I turning into a grumpy old man complaining about youngsters? Yikes.

(Time to switch lines. Just in time. )

Strange People In Trains

I've always subscribed to the fact that people are strange. We all are and that makes life interesting. Other people's strangeness (I believe that's a term in quantum mechanics) bearable as long as they don't get in my way or make life in general uncomfortable for me or society. When strange people start being rude or uncaring, then it's time to step in and correct the madness.

Singaporeans can be mad and many of them take the trains. I take the train to work everyday and am arguably slightly insane too. I see many silly things people do and not do that sort of inconveniences their fellow commuters.

There are commuters who
- make it their life mission to get a seat. You see them scamper into the trains, with eyes darting about, looking for a shiny plastic seat to plonk their asses on. They teach their children to do the same. It bothers me when they look for empty seats in greener pastures, meaning they try to weave their way past standing passengers to get to other train cabins without a whimper of 'excuse me' or 'sorry'. It's like they have a right to slither about looking for a dark cave to curl into.

- lean on grab poles. It's as if they have no spines and need an external support mechanism to keep upright. No one else, in mid-fall or otherwise, can get two-fingers on the grab pole because it's just gross touching a stranger in hot, sticky Singapore public transport. These individuals wedge the pole between their butt cracks like a slick manoeuvre used for docking the space shuttle at the International Space Station. When the trains jolts or comes to hard stop, the pole wedgers clench butt cheeks for maximum grip as everyone else around them pick themselves off the floor. Shame on them for not sharing.

- think taking a nap on reserved seats disavows them of any obligation to give up their comfortable spot. Just the other day, I followed a man on crutches into the train at morning peak hour. Poor guy had only one leg. He took a spot leaning on the glass panel beside the door, holding crutches in one hand, other hand gripping a grab pole. In the 2-3 minutes to the next station, no one did anything. I stood watching the tension build. The guy opposite the disabled man was freaking out. So were a few others standing nearby. I could sense them calculating the possibility of disaster from the looks on their faces - the head slightly down, eyes looking up every 5 seconds to see if the man was going to lose his balance, glancing at seated passengers hoping the telepathic connection between nervous people would prompt some of divinely intervened action.

So when the train slowed to a stop, I tapped the man's hand and asked if he needed to sit. He mumbled some sort of yes. The lady next to me who was also part of the tension-affected crowd asked the two passengers in the seats nearest the door to vacate them. So the girl in the reserved seat who was about to perhaps feign sleepy innocence had to leave her comfortable abode for the disabled man. Happy ending. Relief for the transported masses.

There you go. I could add making out in the corner and talking loudly, on the phone or otherwise, and letting children go mad in a crowded space to the list but that'll take another weekend. Damn I've become lazy.

The Difference To Love

We are different. Beyond the skin, bones and blood, we have the capacity to feel, understand what we feel and respond to what we are feeling, at a level beyond instinct and reflex. A capacity to emphatize. And as such the motivation to make change. The most powerful and simplest yet at times most difficult change is our capacity to love. This is why we are different, we choose to love, and choose not to love.

You've heard all the songs, "All we need is love" "Love can build a bridge" "Love conquers all" etc. All romantic and noble. Why don't we think it is possible, that love does conquer all, that love can build a bridge? We don't believe it. Not many do. We are prejudiced by our upbringing, economic levels, our wants and desires, our fears, our greed to fulfil our needs, our superstitions and beliefs and in some cases our ideals and aspirations. We cannot wholehearted unequivocally love. Not like dogs, wagging tails and all. We cannot truly love everyone. Despite all we can feel and understand we just cannot put aside our programming to simply care a little more for one another. We cannot change the world.

It's funny that our geographic boundaries define who we are in more ways than any other attribute. It's funny in a sad way. Kids can die because there's no food around, stuck in a vicious cycle because of lines on a map. Kids around me have no qualms about eating half a pack of fries and leaving the rest to rot in bins. It's funny in a stupid way. Yet we carry on like it doesn't matter, because our purpose in life has been defined, in fact predefined, by parents, government, society. We are manufactured to exist in a certain way. And to show love in a certain way.

There's a TV ad that goes "Why are we here? Maybe it's because of all the species on Earth, we are the ones with the ability to save them all, including our own." Why is this possible? Because we have the capacity to love. We can make the difference. Maybe no one just told us how, or there are too many voices are telling how. Pick one, go with it. Figure how you can change someone else life for the better. We are all suffering in some way, so there lots of opportunity to change the world and change your world. Let love lead the way. Be the tail wagging dog.







our needs

Singapore's Problems & Our MRT System

Ok soon is a little late, sorry. The last post on Singapore's biggest problems required some explanation and here goes.

I was thinking about our recent SMRT technical fiascos as well as our ongoing issues with how crowded the trains were getting (this was the morning my mum made tea and banana pancakes out of the blue).

Keeping the rationalizations simple (because complicating them would confuse) the answers were:
- (track failures) someone wasn't checking for these problems or wasn't checking thoroughly or didn't care. Perhaps their bosses didn't care either.
- (overcrowding) the system was built to 1987 specs to optimal efficiency but without much room for redundancy. It's all too linear and unscalable. Scale now means building a new line. Also, with the push for new housing in certain areas plus more immigrants, it seems like the gahmen departments weren't talking to each other about the intersecting stresses on Singapore systems.

Who can we blame for all this? Ourselves.

We sort of let ourselves get carried away with the gahmen in the "They'll take care of everything, they know what they are doing" sort of way. I mean we were all kudos and applauding when the train lines opened but that's not the endgame. In fact there isn't one. It's forever, like diamonds but less sparkly. So we needed quite a bit of forward thinking in place. We knew back then we needed 5.5 or so million people to make the island work economically so why didn't we cater for that? Could we not envision the demand? We were not creative enough to figure out there wouldn't be space at Jurong East if we got more people to live in the west and northwest? Someone told me that the Japanese built Ginza station from the bottom up, meaning they dug 7 levels down first and built successive lines over that first deep-down station. What brilliant thinking. Anticipation is the hallmark of great planning. Efficiency with room to grow, that what we should have in place and aspire to.

My gripes/solutions with the train systems in Singapore:
- I can't figure why the Bukit Panjang LRT system was built when everyone was happy with the buses. If they wanted to spend $750 million on something through Bukit Panjang, how about a tunnel under the hill to link Ang Mo Kio to Choa Chu Kang with a bunch of stations across? This imaginary line from CCK to AMK could also stretch down Ang Mo Kio Ave 3 to Hougang, Defu and Ubi, roads that are still a mess at peak hours. At least then Serangoon North wouldn't get such a bad accessibility rep.
- Also, the envisioned line above could stretch westwards from CCK to NTU and Tuas, giving options to students at the university as well as workers now bound to use packed Boon Lay MRT/Interchange as their hub.
– I can't figure why the new Downtown Line being constructed from Bukit Panjang to Bugis doesn't start from Kranji or Choa Chu Kang. Wouldn't that help ease congestion into the city and ease the crowds gathering at Jurong East?
- Extra platforms and tracks were retrofitted to Jurong East MRT over the last two years to allow more parking space for trains from Woodlands and extra trains headed east. Did that help ease the human jam? I dunno but people are still complaining. Here's a thought - how about an extra pair of tracks running down from Jurong East to Buona Vista? Additional tracks to link the two major interchanges on the western line. This would give passengers spread-out options to switch lines at other stations instead of sardine-packing Jurong East. Also trains from Woodlands could continue straight on from Jurong East to Buona Vista, giving commuters headed to Harbourfront an easy switch at one stop. Alright, extend at least till Clementi so that commuters have two stops instead of one to switch at.
- Isn't Tanjong Pagar station busy enough to be an interchange? It is now and was even in 1987 when the EW line opened. Every work day hundreds of thousands of commuters have to make the one stop trip from Raffles Place to Tanjong Pagar to get to work in the city. I think that's just silly. If different lines can link across 3-4 stations in Central and Causeway Bay in Hong Kong island and in Tokyo, why could we implement this magnanimous, stress-reducing plan here? It would save commuters time and bring ease.
- We left Marina Bay station languishing for so long as a terminus. Now Harbourfront has become such a vibrant hub. Wouldn't it have be nicer to have the North South line stretch on to Harbourfront for easier connectivity. It would have been obvious to do so than to have had Marina Bay poorly utilised for a decade or so.
- The newly opened Circle Line benefits many who need to head down to the Suntec-Marina area. That's cool but the single point terminus at Dhoby Ghaut isn't. That's now a three line interchange, and consequently a people mess at peak hours and weekends. It would have been nice to extend the Circle Line crossover points further north up Orchard Road to alleviate the stress on Somerset and Orchard stations and end at Newton instead. This would allow suburbanites from the north heading to Suntec to switch earlier at Newton and not join the crowds at Dhoby Ghaut. (the future Downtown Line from Bukit Timah joins at Newton too, so these commuters would enjoy the same convenience too). There would have been the chance to add another station perhaps between Orchard and Somerset maybe behind Paragon or to extend the Circle Line towards Tanglin and Dempsey.
- You may already know how I feel about the Sengkang LRT system. If you don’t, I feel it’s dumb to centralize the connectivity just to one point at Sengkang Interchange. It would be wiser to even link up the same LRT service to Punggol, Sengkang and Hougang since most of the residents probably have shared interests in these adjacent estates.

There you go. My rant about the MRT system. They’re building more lines, of course. Nothing stops the big machine. Not sure if there’s more sense in them (I doubt). Having named a station Tan Kah Kee (like who? and where?) and allowing Farrer Park and Farrer Road stations to co-exist already has me shaking my head.

So with all these complaints, it makes our problems quite clear, no? Over-reliance on the gahmen for ideas, no one really putting forward alternative ideas, too much centralization for perceived efficiency, no creativity and when all goes wrong, no one admitting failure. Ta-dah.