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"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
Archives for posts with tag: Dailies
Let’s see how many of you eagle-eyed readers have spotted the small change on this blog…
Seems like there’s some weird banding issue with these photos when viewed in Windows. Am pulling them till I fix them.
Update 14.02.09
Solved. Banding occurred because I had applied the ‘Camera Faithful’ camera profile to these photos in Lightroom.
Choosing ‘Adobe Standard’ instead fixed the banding. Not sure why it would be so.
Compare this shot (with banding) and this shot (fixed). You may have to look at your screen at a 45-degree angle. See the banding?
Hunker down, grit your teeth, close the heart, steel the emotions and push ahead.
With each passing year, my heart hardens a little more and I die a little more.
Over a quick round at Durty Nelly’s three Saturdays back, Eddie and Violet came to the conclusion that I have two of just about every gadget I own.
It began with my blatant attempts in cajoling Eddie into getting an iPhone instead of an iPod touch, something I did after a month with the iPod touch he gifted me.
“Then you don’t have to carry an iPod and a phone around,” I said.
“But I already have two phones!” he exclaimed while waving his Sony Ericsson K800i and a company-issue Blackberry. “I’m becoming like you!”
“I don’t have two of everything!” I protested.
Violet snorted. “Yes, you do. You have two phones.”
Eddie chimed in, “Two iPods.”
“Of which I’m gonna sell one off,” I said in defense. But they continued as a tag team.
“Two digital SLRs.”
“Four lenses; that makes two pairs.”
“How many film cameras?”
“Two,” I grudingly replied. “But they’re tools of the trade!”
“Two video camcorders.”
“You even have two laptops, for fuck’s sake… ”
“Fine. I like things in pairs, okay?!”
Which I do, if you know what I mean…
You know you’re too Singaporean/Hokkien/Ah Beng [1] when, while solving a crossword puzzle, the first word you can think of for the clue “Get Away!” is…
… Siam! **
For my non-Singaporean readers, Ah Beng is the label applied to uncouth, Hokkien-spewing blue-collar blokes. It is either an insulting label or a badge of honor, depending on who the recipient is.
[1] Siam! is best translated as “Scram!”. Literally, it means ‘to duck’.
Lugging my laptop and a stack of notes, I shuffled, bleary-eyed, into the coffeeshop and sat at my usual table. The regular guy who worked the night shift was already looking on expectantly for my order, not that he had to, any way; the staff at this establishment knew me by face, and would know what beverage to make me at a mere nod of my head.
“Maggi mee and an iced coffee,” I said. It was 4:30 am and I was ravenous. This coffeeshop served up a bowl of instant noodles with an egg and a hot dog for two dollars, 24/7, for night creatures such as myself.
“We’re out of Maggi mee,” he replied, not quite unapologetically. The look of disappointment on my face was visible.
“Just the coffee then.”
Moments later, the staffer ambled over with my drink in one hand, and a packet of nasi lemak in the other.
“I didn’t know you guys sold nasi lemak here.”
“We don’t. These are for the night shift staff.”
He placed the packet on my table.
“It’s four in the morning and you’re thinking of having Maggi mee?” Then he tsked, implying how poor a choice that was as far as nutritional values went.
“Here. My treat,” he said, and refused my offer to pay for it.
8 chin-ups, 43 sit-ups, 10.2-sec shuttle run, 216 cm standing broad jump (spring koyak today…).
2.4km timing? 12 min 29 sec. I missed by 9 seconds…
… for silver, that is!
Still, I’m getting $100 out of this.
Good riddance, Remedial Training!
A sea of synthetic red flashes by before my eyes, an unending scroll put beneath my feet as some joke of cosmic proportions to test my mettle and to break my spirit. I push on. And on. And on. My mind, overwrought with misery, is purging. It bleeds freely from my pores, crying without shame, as if it thinks it can expel these thoughts and worries if I run fast enough. But they are in my eyes and on my skin and infecting my legs. I clench my jaw and heave for more air.
For the first time in my life, I feel it. I am it. I am the runner’s high.
There’s nothing more frustrating than having made three attempts at passing the Individual Physical Fitness Test and still fail.
First attempt: 4 chin-ups, 36 sit-ups (far from my standard), 10.9-sec shuttle run, 209 cm standing broad jump. 2.4km timing? Like fuck: 14 min 08 sec. Passing timing is between 12:41 to 13:00.
The consequence of failing is that I have been going for remedial training back in camp. Twice a week—once weekday, once weekend—for four weeks.
Second attempt, taken while I was back for reservist last week: 5 chin-ups, 43 sit-ups (closer), 9.57-sec shuttle run, 220 cm standard broad jump (surprisingly, as this has always been my weakest station). It was a very good day. 2.4km run? 13 min 35 sec. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to pass.
Third attempt, taken just earlier this evening: 6 chin-ups, 45 sit-ups (my usual), 11.2-sec shuttle run (skidded and skittered like a panicking cat), 221 cm standing broad jump (go, me!). As for the 2.4km run? Well, just by the title of this post, you already know I failed.
By THREE FUCKING SECONDS.
Three!
Pui! Excuse me while I go drown my sorrows in a pint of beer…
Eddie showed up at half past six.
“When did you arrive?” I asked as he pulled a chair up.
“Last night. I’m flying back Thursday morning.”
In his hand he held a carrier, in it four photography magazines and books I had asked him to help me bring from Shanghai. As he set the carrier on the table, he fished out a plastic bag. It was wound up, wrapping whatever it held within tightly, the way it would when you didn’t want its content known or seen. Like bootleg software. Or porn. I briefly registered a flash of Best Denki’s big red logo as he held the bag out to me.
“This is for you,” he said.
Plastic crinkled loudly as I, while eyeing him suspiciously, reached into the bag. I pulled out a plastic box.
A plastic box with something expensive and shiny and cool in it.
“For everything you’ve done for us,” he simply said.
I didn’t know what to say.
Your result for The Perception Personality Image Test…
NFPC – The Artist
Nature, Foreground, Big Picture, and Color
You perceive the world with particular attention to nature. You focus on what’s in front of you (the foreground) and how that fits into the larger picture. You are also particularly drawn towards the colors around you. Because of the value you place on nature, you tend to find comfort in more subdued settings and find energy in solitude. You like to deal directly with whatever comes your way without dealing with speculating possibilities or outcomes you can’t control. You are in tune with all that is around you and understand your life as part of a larger whole. You are a down-to-earth person who enjoys going with the flow.
The Perception Personality Types:
About
34, male and very Cancerian. Often irascible, even if he is prescient to his emotions. Lives for the resonance of beautiful passages, cinematic magic and aural bliss. Dabbles in fiction writing, photography, sketching and daydreaming in his free time, even though he is paid to do just those in a professional capacity.
He is, in other words, quite a geek.
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