wrong side.

Its possible, i guess, to wake up on the wrong side of a bed even if there's only really one side of the bed you could get out off. You get one of those days where nothing seems to be going right, where you are forced to end off your email with thanks when there's none meant, and regards when the only regards is the ones you find in a italian mafia movie, cue godfather saying, 'Send my regards to his parents for me'. And then you turn to cook, and find fungus in your oyster sauce, and that the electric stove you've switched on for 5 minutes was actually not on at all. And you wish for a little luck, not that a little luck is ever enough.

And i guess its time like this that you have to take a step back. Pull out that bottle of Gin you have in your fridge. Add a little bit of fruit juice. And take a sip. And perhaps sit in front of your computer, guitar by your side, and muse about the world, and its coming and goings.

Couple of weeks back i talked about regaining a little of that confidence, a little bit of ego i have lost. And it seems now, and time to time that it just isn't me anymore. I hear the alpha male movie characters telling me that i'm becoming soft. and therein i guess lies the intrincities of the gardens of destiny, you never knows which paths leads where and what happens if you try to retrace your steps. Funny thing this life is, it changes with you, tripping you when you see no stone, yet lifting you when you're at the bottom of a well. Bob Marley comes to mind, 'Sold I to the merchant ships, minutes after they took I, from the bottomless pits'.

And it seems my mind is floating everywhere. Maybe due to the alcohol. Maybe the melancholy. But in any case, I don't think i can write much further.

Oh wells. Till next time.

Of forgotten words

You know how you sort of remember from the past, say a poem you wrote, then with feelings and emotions and magic, and now you just want to re-read it for its 'artistic value' or what not. So you open your computer, dig up the oldest files. And then you fail to find it. And then you remember it's in the old com at home, but yet none of the computers at home are as old as that poem which to be fair isn't that old. I guess that's what having a 'lesion' in your brain feels like. Like you know the memory is somewhere, but yet also know that that somewhere is beyond reach. And trouble is, such lesions are more often than not, irreversible.

Funny how our physiology reflects part of the world. Perhaps earth is really one big organism. And we are the cells, making 'lesions' while constantly renewing. Haha. No wonder so many has referred to ourself as the human cancer. Well, hopefully we find a cure to this cancer then.

Curious word this 'lesion', being used to describe anything from a missing chunk in the brain to a wart on your nose. Just curious.

'to hold them in their carpals'

And just trying to regain abit of that confidence, and a little of that flamboyance that made me me last time.

And that's i guess, the bad thing about change, you never quite know if you're heading in the right direction. FOr the past 5 years or so i've been trying to learn a lesson in humility. And perhaps i've gone around it the wrong way, as i find my self losing quite a bit of self confidence and quite frankly, my way in the world.

So i guess its time, not to abandon humility, but to try regain that confidence i once had. Or believe i once had anyway. See what i mean?

After all, confidence is key to scoring goals.

Till next time. 

And after a long hiatus from books, I think i've rediscovered my love for literature. All thanks to Apple's new Ipad and the advent of ebooks. Sure, it may not compare with the feeling of holding and flipping a paperback, but ebooks offers benefits of mobility and i don't know, flipping an imaginary page on a screen feels fun.

Back to martial arts novels.

Only lord of the castle

And so it happens again. As much as modern technology promises to conquer distances and 'bring people together', I find myself terribly worn out and vitally exhausted as I once again concluded a journey to the south(east). I find that as we grow older, many things that we once thought are bearable, grows increasingly difficult to accomplish. The 'too old for this' argue net, some calls it.


And the story continues with our barbarian, a new man in a new land, as he continues his exile from home. With his new identity, the knight soon found himself in the company of a different sort of crowd, neither to and against his wishes. He now partakes in dinner parties and Saturday afternoon brunches. Gone were the days where he would walk miles to find the nearest watering hole to quench his thirst, now he's surrounded by lords too willing but to lend him their horses. Things were looking good, in fact, the barbarian was enjoying it so much that the memory of those barbaric times seems to belong to another person in another time.


Yet, as we always know, good times does not seem to last in stories, nor in life. Through the dinners, brunches and literary events, the knight found himself the lord of a far away castle, master of the wild lands of the far north. The first few months were happy, as the knight commander fed off the fat of the land. Yet, the easy life has taken a subtle toll on him. Gone was his spirit and his battle readiness. And in his haste of accepting this new role of command and the experiences he will have, he ignored his rusty battle arts, and his lack of a weapon after the events that led to his exile. And, as with every changing of hands of land, there are always those who would 'try their luck' so to speak. A group of bandits, a thousand man strong, soon gathered at the gates of the castle demanding gold, women and plunder.


News of the rebels soon reached the ears of the barbarian and he marched into battle, with whatever little troops he had. A thousand rebels isn't a big number, and his days as a knight has trained him to battle with numbers far beyond the current small patch of thugs gathered outside his door. Yet, a battle is a battle, and the knight called for his messengers to summon his bannermen. And it is then he realised, how far away his bannermen are from him. His mind turned to the lords of the nearby lands, who was willing, to commit here and there, 'a dozen of my finest horsemen' or '10 of my most trusted archers'. But none so as willing to march full scale to his castle like his bannermen of old.


And the knight wonders, when will he reunite with his friends again.


- Written this lonely day as the sole lord of the castle.


Till next time.

When johnny come marching home again.Hurrah.hurrah.

We'll give him a hearty welcome then.hurrah.hurrah.

And we'll all feel gay when johnny comes marching home.

Of titles and insignificance

So, as i was walking home today. A post finally started to shape in my head. There was finally something i'd like to talk about. Something, that with the events of tonight, suddenly feels insignificant. But to not write it will perhaps be a pity, and perhaps i will regret it in the future as forgetfulness takes it from me. So here goes.

Its about titles. Titles have always appealed to me. If someone's name has a 'Sir', a 'Lord' or even a 'Dato' in front of it, i automatically sit a little more upright, and listen a little closer to what he has to say. Same for someone with say, a 'Prof.' or 'Dr.' or 'Chief Justice'. And perhaps its immature, and very rightly so, that i put any notice to titles as such. It has to do somehow and somewhat from all those old chinese legends i grew up with, the 108 heroes of the marsh, the 5 tiger generals, the 7 demigods, and those chinese martial arts novels, each hero with a title of his own. Or perhaps its King arthur and his knights. Or maybe its arises from my chinese parentage, of feudal lords, and marquisses of the plains, of honor(pride) to the family (Actually the literal translation of my chinese name). And i may have mentioned it somewhere before, but somewhere along my motivation to do medicine, as my degree and my future career, is a dark streak, a little dark cloud in the clear skies that is idealism.

And i am not afraid to admit it, i am not proud of it, but it certainly is there and it would be foolish and perhaps worse to try ignore or hide it. Fame appeals to me. Not your rockstar-hollywood-harrisonford kind of fame. But the heroic kind, the florence nightingales and Hua Tuos and apricot groves and medicine. And once again, i'm not proud of it. People do not achieve such fame by wanting such fame. But its again one of those things that i struggle with when my mind is free of books and knowledge. I am motivated by money only by lottery, motivated by power only if it holds fame and reknown, sad, but sadly true. And its a daily battle i fight, to not give in to these temptations and stay on my ideals. And its not easy.

And its there where my thoughts end as i pull out my keys and enter my apartment. And there's a story somewhere about how my stethoscope looks both like a snake and a hangman's noose, but is so absolutely essential for survival of the patient. And perhaps one day, i'll write that story. That battle between light and dark.

And then comes that sudden reminder, of how utterly selfish and pointless my thoughts were. of how in the big picture, all of these seems of little or no significance.

One voice. Just one voice.

You know what, i had time to think about the whole Sun Xu thing and i decided to add this.

I'm on his side now. I rather full freedom of speech than none.

A tale of two cities

Just been reading on the whole 'dogs' incident as well as its related post. And truth be told, i feel its a little blown out of proportion. Here is a man, scolding another man because man B pissed him off. Exactly what i would have done, and what many whatever they may say, would have done. I'm not saying what he did was right, but that what he did was common place. And we need some freedom of speech anyway. And that includes, fortunately and unfortunately, giving the old 'up yours' in the modern fashion.

I just led me to think once again about my dual identity, both as a malaysian, and as a singaporean. Yes, i am not a citizen yet, but if circumstances permit, i fully wish to become one, and i've did my part in NS and whatever bullcrap opposers of foreigners talented or otherwise likes to throw forward when faced with increasing competition for their jobs.

http://temasektimes.wordpress.com/2012/03/02/exclusive-ex-moe-prc-scholar-left-singapore-for-good-to-start-company-in-china/

Unlike this person, I'm not under any scholarship in singapore, in fact, i've been rejected by almost every school i've applied for in singapore. I started out in a school that started on the same day i started school in Singapore. I got in to my secondary school despite being out of the qualifying score published in the school selection handbook by the MOE. I got into my JC of choice after an appeal. And most recently, i was denied a place in NUS to study medicine.

But that has nothing to do with anything.

The only reason i'm writing this post is to say. Yes. Its possible to feel like you belong to two places. And Yes. Dual citizenship should be allowed, in my humble opinion. And if you ask me who's side i'll be on in case of say a war. I'd say up yours, and be found in the nearest operating bar enjoying a quite drink, a la wolverine in first class.