Ignoring Ignorance

Just went downstairs and bought some chips and a can of Jolly Shandy Lychee (Bagus!). Figured I need a little alcohol(0.5%!) to begin this blog post. My aim for tonight is to finish this blog post, watch an episode of Gays Over Flowers Heroes and tuck myself in bed. All before 3am.


I was working today, as usual, doing the same old boring stuff. It's pretty taxing trying to act enthusiastic and happy just with your voice alone. Good afternoon Transcab! Screw you. Do you need a taxi now? Screw you. Where are you now? Screw you. Where do you want to go? Screw you. Please hold the line and wait for the taxi number and thank you for calling Transcab. Screw you and hope your taxi crashes.

Just kidding. I'm not so angsty.

Anyway, the purpose of the entry today is to highlight an conversation I overheard. I was seated in between two middle-aged women who well, loves talking and unfortunuately loves doing so while being loud.

S (My Indian supervisor): Hey Y, why is the China man downstairs listening to Cantonese songs?

(Coincidentally, one of my favourite songs, Hao Xin Fen Shou, was the song that was playing.)

Y (My Chinese colleague): Yeah, Ah Hong knows how to speak Cantonese mah.

(Ah Hong is the diesel man guy who's in charge of collecting payment for diesel)

Me: ...

S: Huh really ah? How come China people know how to speak Cantonese? I thought they only speak Chinese?

Me: ... ... ...

I swear I felt like taking out my Secondary 3 History textbook, flip to the page - that shows how our forefathers left their family back in China, sailed through the rough oceans with their small little boats, slogged their life away as coolies and eventually creating a Singapore that we know today - and stuff it right at her face.


And I imagined myself rounding up with this statement. "Our forefathers are from China and the dialects we're using in Singapore are all naturally brought over from there!"

But with me being Mr Calm and Collected, I didn't for obvious reasons. You don't mess with your supervisor and get away with it. Besides, I'd rather save my breath for paragraph two. (Scroll up.)

And from my supervisor's ignorance, I saw an uncanny resemblance to myself back when I was completing my 3.1 semester in TP. During Destination Bullshit Class (Or better known as DPD)

I never had an Indian classmate before, despite 6 years in Chongzheng Primary and 4 years in Ngee Ann Secondary and 2 years in Temasek Polytechnic. And thus I didn't have a single friend who's Indian. And as fate has it, I was finally in the same class with not one, but two very nice Indians.


But you know me, I tend to be a little overeager at times and say things that loosely translated, didn't go through my big brain. And so I striked up a conversation with K. The lecturer, Mr Thiru, was talking about some country.

Me: Hey K, so you visit India often? Nice place?

K (with an amused expression): Once. Was having a holiday.

Me(trying to sound matter-of-factly): Huh once only? Don't you have relatives there? I mean with you being Indian and all.

K (with an amused expression and a tinge of irritation): No. I'm Singaporean. My relatives are all here in Singapore.

Me(alarmed): Oh right oh right.

And the conversation ended there. With me overwhelmed with embarassment and shame. Heck, I haven't even been to China before. And my relatives are either in Singapore or Malaysia, that's all. Moral of the story: There's a huge difference between Chinese or Indian national and Chinese or Indian Singaporean.

And we are Singapoooooooooore, Singaporeaaaaaaaaaaaans!

Running For Joy

10 minutes 27 seconds.

Good enough for Napfa but not quite there yet for IPPT. Yeap that's right, that's the amount of time I took to complete 2.4km over at school Temasek Polytechnic. With Wei Jie running along with me and Guan Zuo monkeying around with a soccer ball.


Could have been better I guess. Afterall, my personal best was around 9 min 30 seconds. That was back in my heyday, 5 years back, when my fitness was at its prime. Funny how I'm talking like an old man when I'm just 20 years old. And I can't even enter Genting's casino without fooling the door bastard bouncer.


Actually, if it weren't for the damn IPPT and to enjoy playing soccer better, I wouldn't give a hoot about running. It's one of those things that the "process" part sucks. For example, I may feel as tired after a round of tennis but at least it's fun. You know the joy it brings when you hit the ball with the sweet spot? It's orgasmic. Now you know why Roger Federer is always smiling.

Because he hit the sweet spot.

Whereas for running, on a track especially, it's too damn repetitive and boring. And it takes immense mental strength to keep going and keep running. Well, for people with not-so-strong mental strength, they'll simply go "Left right left right left right left.. fuck, I've got a stitch.. right.. left.. Nabei why dapai got stitch wan" and they'll stop and vent their frustration by kicking something in which they'll miss, fall and sprain their ankle.


But it isn't all doom and gloom, else the man from Kenya, Ethiopia, Congo whatever, who completed the 10000m race in world record time is a very very depressed man.

Bekele Kenenisa from Ethiopia

Hmm, doesn't really look too happy eh? Well, never mind.

Unlike other sports, the joy or whatever it is that makes you want to run, comes after the run. It is also after completing a run that you can tell yourself, "Yes! I'm now an freaking Iron Man!" and that all the struggling, swearing and cursing was all worth it.

It's like event management. There will be an immeasurable amount of sai gang to do but at the end of the day, if the event succeeds à la Wei Jie's birthday, it's all worth it.

Cheers.

Have We Met Already?

We're all lonely for something we don't know we're lonely for. How else to explain the curious feeling that goes around feeling like missing somebody we've never even met?

David Foster Wallace

Booming thunder, streaks of lightning and chilly air are all signs of trouble for a motorcyclist. But yet I found myself wishing that it would rain, for sometimes it actually feels good to wallow in self pity. But it didn't happened. As if the heavens is trying to comfort me.

I have not had this feeling for a long long time. And yet it had to hit me despite being in the company of plenty people. Fun, exciting people. Which goes to show that the world works in unexplainable ways.

I thought I handled it pretty well. At least until now, that is. But singlehood does get a little lonesome sometimes, doesn't it? Knowing that somebody you love is always there for you is something I wish I can have.

But there's nothing that can't be solved with a glass or two of Baileys. For sleep can be quite a nice antidote sometimes.