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 +.
Thursday, 26 April 2012
Wednesday, 25 April 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
Monday, 23 April 2012
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.
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.
Friday, 20 April 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, 18 April 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, 17 April 2012
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.
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.
Monday, 16 April 2012
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.
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.
Friday, 13 April 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, 12 April 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, 10 April 2012
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.
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.
Monday, 9 April 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, 7 April 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, 5 April 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, 4 April 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, 3 April 2012
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.
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.
Monday, 2 April 2012
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.
It sort of riles me that the HDB plays these games with us.
"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.
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