It's Christmas time!

Actually it's not; it's officially 26 Dec 2005 as I type this. Have been too busy in the past few days carolling, bingeing after carolling, and partaking in decadent revelry after bingeing.

Funny how Christmas seems to have lost its appeal for me in recent years. It started with our carols, which started sounding stale to me two or three years back. Plus, the Christmas carolling season was always a lousy, hectic one for us. In one night, we would usually have to sing two sessions at Hotel A, after which we would have to rush down to either Hotel B or Private Club C for another session. And on Christmas day, it had become a routine for us to gather at Hotel B in the morning, then walk the 600 or so metres to Hotel A for another session. Carolling, which used to be the highlight of every Christmas, has since turned into a huge chore; it was almost like having a taste of the service industry, where people have to routinely work on public holidays when everybody else relaxes and lets their hair down.

Yet, this year's carolling season wasn't so bad. Yes, we did start abnormally early, almost kiasuly so, having been block booked for five or six weekends - Friday, Saturday and Sunday - in a row by the world's best airport, starting in mid November. I still remember that our first few sessions were met with bemused, curious stares from tourists and passengers and I could very well imagine what they must have thought, why on earth are these people carolling so early for? After all, "Sleigh bells ring, are you listening. In the lane, snow is glistening..." does sound rather weird in November. And yes, our long-running patron Hotel A made us run around all their F&B establishments for an hour, belting out song after song amidst the clinking and clanking of dining implements and the hisses of woks and grills. At the end of each night, we were simply bushed.

But it wasn't all bad. We were trusted and left mostly to our own devices at the world's best airport, instead of being shepherded around by stern marketing ladies on a rigid schedule. Tourists were often appreciative of our singing and their huge smiles and warm applause made me feel like we made their vacations just that bit more special. At Hotel A, we were accorded the privilege of having nice, proper rooms to rest, change and doll ourselves up in instead of making do in the restrooms; after all, they were not obliged to provide us rooms at all. Hotel guests were largely receptive to our singing, and more often than not, it was not very difficult to do so with a big smile on my face. And at the end of it all, the hotel presented us with a gigantic box of gourmet chocolates from their most acclaimed restaurant. What a nice surprise, and how sweet of them to do so! And the best part of it all has to be those wonderful people who heard us sing and bothered to come right up to us to wish us Merry Christmas, to tell us how much they enjoyed our singing, and to actually thank us for singing to them. At times like these, I feel a bit of the magic of Christmas, I guess you could call it that.

For most of us in the choir, I think the main thing about Christmas is that we are all together at the same place, doing the same thing we all love, and getting to know one another better and deeper with every session. This season has also been about discovering our prowess as a gigantic Christmas-Carols-Automaton, as our gamble on going without a conductor seems to have paid off rather successfully. It's a bit scary that we seem to know intuitively which parts to retard, when to tone down and by exactly how much to speed up; it just speaks of how comfortable we have grown singing together. But of course, we have had many years to do so for carols; I just wish we could be just as comfortable for new songs as well.

All the same, this Christmas, this post, is for all you people who spend Christmas with me year after year, seniors and juniors alike; the distinctions have long ago ceased to matter. May 2006 bring more joy and happiness to us all, and really, in Emma's words, a merry New Year!

Picture of us in our ethnic costumes in Bremen, Germany, in July 2004, lifted without permission from VC's website

Peanuts? My arse

I wonder, what does NKF's ex-Patron Mrs Goh Chok Tong have to say about the whole saga now, after the KPMG audit was released? Does she think Durai's salary is still peanuts? How can she justify their numerous extravagances? What does she think of the fact that by audit firm KPMG's estimate, only about 10% of whatever was raised went to patients? Peanuts too, I hope she has the sense to see. But judging by her infuriating attitude when the news first broke big time, which seemed to suggest she has absolutely no idea that most of the people donating to NKF will never ever see $600,000 even in 20 years, she probably will not get it.

They are a whole bunch of criminals, running a charity like a family business and doling out money on themselves however they liked. And the following must be among the most despicable things they have to say. When defending the policy of having more salary increments and perks for fund-raising staff compared to clinical staff, apparently former NKF board member Loo Say San told KPMG that the discrepancy was because clinical staff's work was more routine in nature.

Fuck off, you douche bag, more perks for fund-raisers is good and fair I suppose, especially if you pay your fund-raisers measly amounts to begin with and considering that monetary reserves are important to any charity. But fucking eight increments in a year is fucking way too much okay? Plus the increments are backdated. Remember too that you claim to be working for the patients, to provide them the best care and services? Well, your clinical staff are the ones who are facing patients day in, day out yah? Giving them the best care and service that you only know how to talk about with your witless mouth.

I can't believe the fucking criminals got away with so much; Matilda Chua, Ong Su Ying, TT Durai and all the others. Yen's right; they should all be thrown into jail and be raped by animals or something. How can they live with themselves knowing that they've cheated and abused the public's trust and support? And that in doing so, they've effectively thrown all the good work and name that NKF has built up and achieved over the years, making it an uphill task now to raise funds and win everyone's support again? How is it that Ministers go after politicians who supposedly defame them so vehemently, tracking down every little bits and pieces of evidence and yet, with all their resources they are unable to verify and act on so-called annonymous tip-offs about NKF's wrongdoings? It's so disappointing; the Government had better own up to their own lack of efficacy as well as any cover-ups.

It just says an awful lot when even NKF staff are appalled to learn of the many questionable practices turned up by the audit. While everyone's stoning the NKF and its old leadership, have we stopped to think about the betrayal that the staff must have felt on learning the results of the investigation? And yet, we must also remember even in the midst of our collective outrage and anger that the NKF has been imbued with a new direction and a new leadership. I don't believe that people should be condemned for wanting to cancel their donations. After all, for those who already don't earn much and yet donate to charity, why should they continue to donate to an entity that has played fast and loose with their money? But, without the donations, how else can the charity do the work that has become so important to the nation? It's a messy state of affairs.

One thing I noted idly in passing, were there other reasons for the choice of KPMG to conduct the investigations, other than the fact that it had a number of big healthcare accounts? PWC was obviously out, since they were NKF's auditors. Not sure about Deloitte. But am speculating that it would not have been E&Y since NKF's new head Gerard Ee has ties to E&Y. And when lousy corporate governance is the focus of the investigation, it is probably wise to avoid any suspicious business ties.

All I can say now is, all the best to the new NKF. You guys have been left in the lurch with a thankless job, but I'm sure that one day when the outrage has died down, people will come to thank you for all the great work that you have done.

Scraping the bottom of the barrel

How sad. My expectations are already so low. And he has to still be unable to meet them. What can I say? Like I told him, it's not just a one-off thing, it's the latest in a whole string of very disappointing events. And it just says a lot that when I would ordinarily have shrugged this latest occurrence off with a teasing smile and the slightest irritation, I am instead rather cheesed off and unforgiving.

WTH

It started innocently enough. Then, it was exam period and understandably, exams are a bitch and I don't expect to go out much or get into lengthy phone calls. Actually, come to think of it, there haven't been any lengthy phone calls since goodness knows when, but that's another story.

After the papers ended, he had to get back into the groove of whipping his choirs into shape for the competition to be held in our northern neightbour. Again, that didn't leave us all that much time to spend together. Then finally came the working trip to our northern neighbour that somehow left him with not even five minutes in the four or five days he was there to have some words with me. I wouldn't even have known which day he was coming back had I not bothered to call and bravely ventured to ask when he was snappy, distracted and obviously in a hurry to get back to work. Twice bitten, thrice shy. When my call on the third or fourth night met with the same irritable, occupied air, I decided to forget the whole damn thing, leave him in peace and speak to him only when he returned.

Then he came back. And even when he had reached home, I didn't even know about it. No call, no message. Until, again, I called to see if he was back on Singapore land, whether he wanted to have a quick dinner somewhere nearby his home. Only then did I know that he had actually reached home. "But why couldn't you have let me know?" I asked, trying not to sound accusatory. After all, a message saying he was home but tired and would speak to me the next day or after a rest would have sufficed. But no. All he said was, he was tired.

And now, things have gone downhill, the way I see it at least. No phonecalls, no suggestions of having dinner together, zero dates (or at least, zero dates initiated by him), etc. And when I bring up my concerns, he doesn't seem to understand, nor care, nor do anything about them beyond mouthing infuriatingly patronising platitudes.

One of my closest friends asked if it was possible he had met someone new. Instinctively, I wanted to reply, "I don't think so." For he had assured me not so long ago that nothing would change. And even as part of me wanted to believe it, another part of me really believed it. But now, even when he hasn't really given me much cause to doubt him beyond what could at worst be described as serious inattention or neglect, I feel myself seriously pondering my friend's words. After all, talk is cheap. Words out of the mouth may not be spoken from the heart. This was an epiphany for me, the first time I seriously wonder if I still believe that nothing will change. That we will really get married, have our ideal two kids, grow old together still holding hands and die within days of each other. Can we?

Am I simply hormonal or is there a better reason for the frustration and despair I feel at our lacklustre state?

I wish I was suspended in time, happier times, like this picture portrays. Perhaps it's the wingspan of the bird and its motion through the air over the sea. Very peaceful, especially with the ever so efferverscent rainbow.

Blessed solitude

When you're swamped with work almost every day and deluged with social get-togethers in the course of a week, no matter how enjoyable, having a day off for some "me" time is frankly quite luxurious. Throw in the prospect of my latest vice - facials - and I was simply tingling all over with anticipation the night before, which I spent carolling, pigging out at the scrumptious Soup Restaurant and watching King Kong.

The day started routinely enough with a session on the Internet, checking mail and surfing blogs, the latter being something that I do about once every two weeks. And then, close to noon, I headed to the wet market for my favourite bak chor mee, done to Al-Dente perfection and garnished liberally with black vinegar, chilli, juicy mushrooms and fresh pork slices. Man, it was good. I just can't say it often enough, that sometimes the best things are the simplest of things, to be found in the humblest of places.

And then it was off to the library for some off-beat tomes to widen my rapidly shrinking repertoire consisting of mainly fantasy and thriller novels. All I can say is, Tampines Regional Library is fast losing its attraction for me; there are hardly any new books, and the popular books are always not around. I guess that means I have no choice but to make a reservation then, unless anyone wants to get me Raymond E Feist's Prince of the Blood and The King's Buccaneer, or Lincoln Child and Douglas Preston's Dance of Death for Christmas. In any case, I still left with about six books. That should occupy me for a week.

Right, so after the library came my facial! Happy happy, I always love facials. They're such a pampering and beautifying experience, especially when you look into the mirror after that and see that your nose is no longer dotted with blackheads, those unsightly bumps on your cheeks have diminished and your skin looks more firm, supple and bright. Of course, it is very important to go to a salon you trust and feel comfortable trusting your face to. In my case, no big names for me, especially since I can't afford them anyway. My neighbourhood salon delivers all the goods I deem necessary for a good facial experience: Meticulous attention, privacy, tasteful and elegant decor that looks suitable even for Orchard Road, and mastery of technique.

Firstly I had my face cleansed and scrubbed. Then, there was a cooling steaming session for my pores to open up for easier extraction. And then, freak, came the extraction part, complete with a contraption with a sharp, needle-like point and a rounded small hoop-like end to squeeze out the muck from my pores.What can I say, it was easily the most physically painful experience I've had this year. The squeezing went on for more than half an hour and at the end of it, I was squirming my toes repeatedly in pain, eyes tearing beneath the cotton wads. However, I felt immensely good knowing that my face would be cleared of muck, so the tears were also tears of happiness and not just pain. After the extraction, the therapist applied some cooling, anti-bacterial gel, slathered on the mask paste, and proceeded to administer an immensely relaxing upper-body massage with masterful strokes that belie her delicately pretty appearance. Ah, what bliss. I suspect I fell asleep at some point and even snored. But who cares, this was one of the best $45 and close to two hours I've ever spent. Superb value for money. The only drawback is that they are always trying to sell me products. And the products aren't cheap, a damned oil control serum is going for $128 for a measly 30ml! Okay I know this is peanuts compared to La Mer, but probably only about 1,000 people in the whole of Singapore can afford La Mer without blinking okay!

The day drew on and around evening, I went for an hour-long run after walking up and down the stairs of my block of flats, reaching home just in time for dinner. Mum cooked yummy fried chicken wings, blah vegetables (not that her cooking is lousy, I'm just not partial to greens) and steamed fish, which we washed down with COB (carrot, orange and bluberry) juice. The darned concoction is a bloody effective detox agent lah, but it tastes superb, dredges and all.

So yes, I must conclude that sometimes, "alone" time is really a rewarding self-indulgence that recharges and reinvigorates a person. Chilling with the boyfriend, catching-up sessions with friends, family time; these are all fantastic for me and I wouldn't exchange the experiences for anything else. But do give me time away to myself every so often; that's the best present anyone can give to themselves, I think.

I'm eyeing a true spa experience in the near future, with all the works: Jacuzzi, full body massage, spa diet, etc. Maybe for my honeymoon, yayee.

Long overdue

Alright! I've finally gotten down to transferring some long overdue photos, and here they are in no particular order...


Simply heavenly, mmmmm. Two flavours: Apple pie and Tiramisu from Island Creamery at Serene Centre in Bukit Timah. The pictures don't do the ice-cream justice at all, but trust me, it's really good. And cheap. And they are the ones with all the weird flavours like Teh Tarik and Tiger Beer Sorbet.


My boyfriend the vegetating SUPERBUM. How apt.


The national flower at the Botanic Gardens. It's a beautiful place for a jog or slow, romantic walk in the morning or before the sun sets, if you don't mind the occasional stench of rotting plants.


Also found in the Botanic Gardens. I found it slightly contrived and artificial though. It looks like a cave where some thousand-year-old sage had been meditating for centuries.



Remnants of dinner at Spagheddies with old chums: Smoked salmon with cream cheese pizza. Due to the UOB 1-for-1 dining promotion, we got to share four main courses among three people, fantastic! Nothing makes me happier than having loads of food to eat.


The three of us at Haagen Dazs Siglap after Spagheddies. I hate having pictures of myself taken; they always turn out ugly. But I like taking stupid pictures, because then I'm expected to look dumb and ugly anyway.


Brownie at Olio, where I had dinner with another set of old chums. Yum, it was really quite nice though I was too stuffed to have much of it. Plus, one of the guys has always had many sharp words to say about my size and eating habits. But I'm too nonchalant to care much about what he says now, unlike last time, hah!


That's the three of us at Olio. I swear I wasn't trying to act demure; I'm anything but demure. I think you could even say I'm loud and unladylike. But it sure was a good night for catching up, and we'll see each other again on Boxing Day as we wish an old classmate all the best in the next stage of her life. Just don't ask me when's my turn.


Here's the most recent. Drinks at Brewerkz with old chums again, this time the Entwife joined us! The buggers made me rush down to Brewerkz just ten minutes before happy hour ended to order nachos and three pints of the bestselling Golden Ale, hah, but it was quite fun and luckily they arrived shortly after the beers were served. And after their respective pints, they ordered a sample set of eight flavours to try. Very interesting. Apparently one of the flavours, a very dark one, tasted like chilled kopi-oh, damn gross. Too bad there aren't any photos of the four of us that night, but never mind, we'll be meeting up shortly with the rest of the bunch to celebrate the Elfmaid's birthday, plus Christmas and New Year.

Yayee, this discharges my duty for the moment. Maybe Teck will stop bugging me for photos for now. Right, more pictures to come!

That time of the year

Crap, I've been so uninspired to blog recently. At best, I write about twice every week. At my worst and laziest, I write once a month. I just realised that since setting up Dragons' Haven a year and a half ago in June 2004, there has only been a grand total of 103 entries, 104 including this one. That's 104 entries in about 550 days, which means once every five days. Okay, that's actually not too bad. But let me just say here that I am so darned lazy when it comes to photos. I have pictures in my NIKON from the Spagheddies dinner with Teck and Elfie, the Olio feast with JH and Les, and the most recent Brewerkz one with Teck, Bet and Elfie. Gawd, I'm so darned lazy to transfer them, Doc's gonna kill me.

Some background about this blog. I named it so because of my fascination with the Dragonlance series, authored by the fabulous Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. I devoured the exploits of Raistlin, Tas, Caramon, Flint, Tanis, Laurana and the others voraciously, endlessly, to the point where I was so blinkered I refused to try other fantasy novels for fear they would not match up. But secretly, I lived in fear that one day my treasured Dragonlance would cease to spellbind and touch me, and I would be left with no books to read.

Then recently, I came to try Raymond E Feist's Riftwar series. I started off thinking it still paled in comparison to Dragonlance, but upon reading it a second time, it started to grow on me. I re-read the books with much more attention, feeling my appreciation grow, as well as my admiration for Feist for having crafted a tale of such epic scope and masterful weaving. And at the end of my second reading, I was overjoyed and jubilant at the prospect of having new and wonderful books to savour once again. I think I'm mad, but anyway, that brings me to my very few wishes for the New Year though it's still rather early.

I wish:

That 2006 will bring me more good and enjoyable reads to occupy my nights and train rides with.

For good health and happiness for my family and all my friends; that God will see into our hearts, realise even our smallest hopes and dreams and grant us the strength to bear with whatever happens.

And most of all, that my uncle can leave behind the tumour in his liver and stick around long enough to watch my two-year-old cousin go to school, get a girlfriend, whiz through NS and start a life of his own. I think I'll just go to pieces otherwise.


My favourite Christmas movie, though it's getting a bit stale. I remember watching it twice the year it aired. Quite an interesting, bittersweet experience.


This vignette made me cry; there's just something about unrequitted love under forbidden circumstances that's so depressing.


I love Keira Knightley; she's such a babe, one whom I have no trouble understanding why guys like. I can see exactly why her onscreen husband's best friend loves her to bits.

Left alone

Everybody close to me is flying off, either for holiday or for work.

The boyfriend will be in Shah Alam for work, Teck's flying off to Taiwan to bonk pretty nutmeg ladies, Elf and the Entwife will be in Bangkok shopping their hearts out.

In the meantime, I'll have to bear with this freaking lousy piece of crap of a company with noone to complain to. Sigh.

Photographic memory

That's me nearing the finishing line!

Should I buy it, or not?

We did it!

Yesterday, 4 Dec 2005, was the second time this year that I had to get out of bed before 6am. Both occasions were sporting events; the first was the New Balance Real Run in August and yesterday was the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon 2005. I ran in what was arguably the 'soft' option of the quarter-marathon, or 10km.

I had hardly flopped onto bed on Saturday night for what felt like a mere 10 minutes before the trusty mobile alarm went off at 5.30am. Somehow, despite my mega-dazed state, my first lucid thought was that I had had only 3.5 hours of sleep. The second was, how the hell was I going to run 10km on just a nap? But never mind, I wasn't going to dawdle in bed any longer any longer and risk missing the start of the race. Very quickly, I ran out of the house with my mom hollering at me, mistakenly thinking that I had only gotten back home at that time, and headed for the Padang.

Luckily the day dawned bright and fine, with bright blue skies and brilliant tufts of white clouds, perfect for running. As we (me, Yann, Yokie and Skunk) made our sluggish way to the Esplanade Bridge starting point at 7am, the race had already started. But as there were so many people in the 10km race, we could stilll squeeze into the back of the excited, teeming crowd behind the starting line, slowly and patiently inching our way to the front. Finally it was our turn to start running and that was a truly magical moment that set me thinking with excitement, why didn't I do this much earlier?

It was a good run, largely comfortably challenging although like Yann, I was shocked to see the 2km mark as it felt like the distance we had already run was longer than that. At the halfway mark at Victor's Bowl in Marina South, I got into my second wind and started pumping a little harder, all the way till the last kilometre when my thigh muscles started aching from the unaccustomed additional exertion. In all my so-called once-weekly practice runs, I'd never ran 10km before, hitting mostly 7km and occasionally, 8km. But I believe I ran faster and longer than I ever did during practice, with an eventual chip timing of 1 hr, 10 minutes and dunno-how-many secs. Just in line with my own desired timing, yayee! According to the analysis of my results, I averaged 8.5km in an hour. A massive improvement from not-so-long-ago when I would be lucky if I managed to run 6.5km in an hour, or the longer-ago annual NAPFA 2.4km runs in school when I usually clocked a miserable 15.30 secs on average.

Yet, personal stisfaction aside, it was the feeling of running with good friends and cheering on other friends attempting the full- or half-marathons that was even more heartening.

Yann was so funny; she told us that she cried with relief when she reached the finishing line as she had started feeling quite cold and terrible halfway into the race. Plus, she had only started to run at least once a week in the past two or three months and yesterday was only the second time she had run in the hot and humid outdoors (she always runs in swanky Fitness First mah) in that time. Good for you babe! Yokie was nursing a sore and injured back and had actually decided not to run, but he changed his mind the night before and ran an amazing 1hr and 9 minutes. Lastly, Skunk, the loveable Shittimonster and our favourite runner of the day, displayed true determination and grit when he battled a raging, upset stomach from race start to race end. I'm truly impressed!

I'm happy to report that Desmond, Lester and Owen all managed to complete the full 42.195km marathon, plus Lester was nursing newly-healed ankles. Congratulations guys, you all are superb! Like I said earlier today, when it comes to the full-marathon, the question of timing is no longer pertinent; that you even complete it at all, that is all that is important.

And so, after some delicious ramen from Marina Square's Kyo-Nichi Ramen Restaurant and cheesecake from NYDC, my virgin StanChart marathon experience ended. Now, I'm left with a lingering runners' high that's made me itching to resume running once the muscles in my legs stop aching, and looking forward to StanChart 2006. The question is, quarter or half? With a year to train, the half-marathon should not be too unachievable. However, is the 10km run the pinnacle of my physical limit? After all, my muscles are already hurting from yesterday's exertion. I guess I won't know until I start training again. By next November, I guess I should be in a better position to decide!