Peculiar Case of the imPerfect Primate

What is this?

2006-09-21T02:05:00.000+08:00

a) A contemporary digital reinvention of Piet Mondrian's de Stijl's art movement where abstraction, reductionism and the belief in universal regularity were developed into an artistic philosophy known as neoplasticism. Here, you can see the ultimate reduction of form to purely straight lines and colour constituting only of the primary colours. Though the ends are clearly neatly arranged, the central focus of the image appears more haphazard. Nonetheless, there appears to be an underlying orderedness that suggests otherwise.

b) A visualization of numerous DNA sequences. Specifically, a certain highly variable region of the 16S ribosomal mitochondrial gene of 80 over fly species computationally aligned across the screen that requires some manual re-alignment. Each colour state represents one of the nucleotide A, T, G, C, while white blanks are gaps. The neat rows at the corners represent well-conserved regions of the gene that remains the same across species while the centre portion has undergone vast changes through insertion/deletion and substitution of nucleotides.

c) The very bane of my existence! Argh!!!

Ultraviolet

2006-09-14T01:43:00.000+08:00

This is Crosslinker. Ultraviolet Crosslinker. My lab's Ultraviolet Crosslinker. Our latest lab toy.

Uses:
A microwave oven-like box that zaps high dosage of ultraviolet irradiation onto experimental tubes, caps etc. to minimise DNA contamination from random floating cells, bacteria, psychotic psychodidae flies (our nemesis from hell/our worst nightmare with wings). Basically powerful UV irradiation screws up your DNA by distorting it into weird linkages.

Not recommended uses:
1) Zap a psychodid fly to see how much DNA distortion it can withstand.
2) Zap a female fly loaded with fertilized eggs, let it lay eggs, see what mutant flies hatches out.
3) Zap a bunch of laid eggs, see what mutant flies emerge.

Strongly not recommended use:
1) Slit your finger, squish a fly with bloodied finger, zap bloodied finger with squished fly juice mixture, wait for weird transformations a la Jeff Goldblum in The Fly! eeeek!!!

GUIDE TO ESSENTIALS FOR SURVIVING IN THE FLY LAB

2006-09-14T00:57:00.000+08:00

Item No.1: BOOSTER BAO (the white blob, not the greenish-blue blob)

Comes in handy when the stomach is grumbling "feed me!!" and the work refuses to release you. Gives you that extra energy boost to stave out hunger for that crucial few more hours before work gives you permission to go to the feeding lot. Packed with maximum nutrition that provides for rapid energy release (carbohydrates), moderate release (lipids), and even famine-prevention (proteins)! In crisis moments, can be used as a convenient meal substitute too! At 70 cents a bun, it is an affordable alternative to energy bars and can also be consumed during times when broke. The most vital survival item to have for appeasement of the two great forces that control your life: your stomach and your boss.

We can Mc a difference!

2006-08-24T02:12:00.000+08:00

These are exciting times that we are living indeed. The country's on the go to keep pace with the rest of the world. We are on the way to becoming the Paris of South-east Asia, but without the racism/exclusivity, the Las Vegas of the Orient, but without the sleaze, packed with Asia's equivalent of MIT. We have an iconic building to rival Sydney's Opera House. We are creating our very own Central Park. We aim to become the regional bio hub, trade hub, banking hub, infotech hub, education hub, with an immigrant-friendly attitude just like America, but without the crime, political discontinuity/uncertainty, guns, drugs, and loose morals.

i support the effort to emulate all these world-class examples as a positive guideline for progress. But this also sounds like an overdose of brand-hijacking in hopes that such a rich amalgam will spawn a uniquely cosmopolitan city. i'm confident it will become like no other.

But that's beside the point, sorry i got carried away.

The point is, times are changing, once again. Nowadays, the government is actively engaging the public, parents know better than teachers how a child should be taught, pubs smell more like calamari sweatshops, planets are going to get a new definition, audience votes matters more than any panel of experienced judges and McDonald's fries no longer contain beef extract.
(pause 1 min to let it all sink in...)
Yesh, that's right. NO MORE BEEF EXTRACT! Sigh, things will never be the same again (yet again) In their latest attempt to spread it's very own culture of healthy living and healthy eating across the world, it seems like Mac's has reinvented the original french fries. Go taste the difference!

The consequences of this seemingly small adjustment is far-reaching and flooding my head. No more beef extract. Less beef produced? Or rather less usage of cow parts excluded from the wholesome beef patties production process? Where do these cow parts then go? More into patties? Down the drain? Up in smoke? Back to cow-feed? Or maybe less cows killed? Less cow ranches? More workers laid off? More unemployment? Less methane produced? Less global warming? Less water pollution? Less water-bourne diseases? Less mad-cow disease? Increase overall human quality of life? Perhaps Mac's has really done a good service for humankind?

Here's an online MacDonald's flashgame i was introduced to. An interactive game that takes a swipe at the beleagured Multi-National Corporation image of profits over principles. It reveals the complexity that goes behind how each burger arrives on your tray and how in the process you inevitably incur the ire of many concerned members of the public. i love the game. i think that part of the reason why the creators were not sued is because they had actually created empathy for Macs. It's message is clear: it is still not easy running an MNC even if unethical methods are at your full disposal. Try it out and you'll get what i mean.

Eating experience

2006-08-14T03:24:00.000+08:00

One sign that shows that you are growing old is the growing distaste for junk food.

Fast-food pizzas look sub-standard, KFC is just a fountain of oil, BK burgers have no self-pride, Mac's fries tastes way too manipulated and even Subway's no longer impresses.

At first i was in denial, refusing to admit that i can no longer subsist on a fast-food diet. Considering the abundance of bad food court food, fast-food had always been the proper alternative.

Then my stomach started voicing objections: 'Why are you doing this to me?" And we all know the golden rule: Never upset your stomach. For pretty soon, my taste buds, eosophagus, cheek epithelial tissues and the rest of the gastro-intestinal union joined the revolt.

They made a convincing proposal: Burger buns have ceased to appeal, ground beef patties are beef twice-removed, junk chedder cheese resembles a disowned child of the family, chopped lettuce looks like misguided vegetables who fell into bad company and sliced tomatoes here are just a waste of the sun's energy.

And i have to finally concede: Yes, i dislike junk food. Yes, looks like i am no longer a teenager.

i believe that with age comes experience, and with experience, hopefully some wisdom. As you wander through your lifetime, the accumulation of experiences widens your knowledge of your surroundings. And knowing that there are better food round the corner makes all the difference.

Human's innate desire for progress can be best demonstrated nowhere else but in our search for good food. It is a culmination of the training of the senses, the hard-earned acquisition of gourmet skills due to a life-time spent on eating. Honestly, who wants to go back to eating apple-mush or carrot-slush? Any baby who has tasted the juices of meat would more readily reject the cheapo things called baby food.

The appreciation of food through the infusion of smell, the decided appearance, the blend of flavours in your mouth and the accompanying texture, is no doubt an aesthetic experience in life. i cannot imagine how one can live through life without building up a distinction for good food and subjecting oneself to food court food willingly.

i am no gourmet chef nor some connoisseur. i just have a lifetime worth of eating experience.

dim lights, make-up, beer and no smoke

2006-07-29T04:29:00.000+08:00

Wala's will never be the same again... without the smoke. The recent ban on smoking in public places including pubs, clubs and kopitiams have caused a stir in the air, or more accurately, a lack thereof. For someone who relish on the consumption of free double-filtered smoke (second-hand smoke), i am suddenly stumped on where to go for my next inhalation therapy.

And then all of a sudden, in a room packed with people, you can actually tell the colour of the eye shadow of the girl across the floor!

I can see clearly now, the smoke is gone,
I can see all pimples on her face
Gone are the smoke clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a sad (sad), sad (sad) Sad-lonely night.

Yesh, gone are the days of the lingering smoke that obscures your vision into thinking all girls in the room are surprisingly beautiful. Nowadays the threat of "Argh!!! My eyes! My eyes! Quick! Look away godammit! Peel! Peel!" are clearly real and unmistakable in any of these nightspots.

Gone are the days where the free mixing of cigarette smoke creates a unique blend of nicotine-flavoured air that cruises through your bronchi and fills your lungs with satisfaction, but not before leaving an acrid stench on your hair and clothes as an indelible signature that you had a night of fun somewhere other than the office.

Now, wafting through the air is the fragrance of freshly deep-fried calamari from the next table. And when the lemon is squeezed, the zest rides atop the waves of sleek vapours to add to the crispiness of the air. mm-mm!

The experience is life-changing indeed.

When you visit the washroom, cigarette butts decorate the floor and urinals, mostly near the wide-open window (used to be closed shut), and someone is taking quick swallowed puffs looking out of it.

It used to be that asking for a light or a cigarette is how you chat up the opposite sex. Now it is "Sorry, can you look after our beer/table/calamari while me and my buddy go for a puff? We'll be back in a while, thanks. Hey would you like to join us?" Not that it is any less effective, but either them going off together or not still deprived me of my therapeautic regime.

A Washington Post columnist laments the implementation of a similar smoking ban in D.C. with respect to the cigarette as the essential tool for flirting in Got a Light? A Ritual Gone in a Puff of Smoke . Full on. But the smoke stick is not wiped off the face of the earth. In fact, it has now recruited a new partner in the form of tables/beer/calamari that has to be babysat. Don't discount the power of the smoke-break so soon.

On the other hand, what is of concern is that although the ozone layer may benefit from this ban, the depletion of the smokescreen layer in the room still has a detrimental effect on dating. It used to be that the worst place to pick up girls is at a nightspot because it is poorly lit, girls are heavily made-up, you are half-drunk at least, and there is the smokescreen. Now, without the smokescreen, you have one less factor to impair your judgement into thinking that girl is kinda cute. All that you can rely now is on your blood-alcohol level, the amount of spoilt light bulbs, and perhaps the transient mist swept up from the upper crust of blusher/foundation by the strong drafts of perfume. How many a man would hesitate at the last moment because the wind changed direction or the light flickered back on, and what was meant to be, well, it never did. The ultimate most reliable source of dis-clarity in the form of a constant curtain of smoke particles all thanks to Brownian motion would have delivered the package unflailingly.

There, they have done it again. For the good of the majority, and of course, everyone's health, a well-intentioned change indirectly contributes to the nation's declining birthrate.

In the meantime, i forsee that the sale of calamari will be reaching unprecedented heights, garnering record profits for the years to come. So dim out the lights, put on more make-up, drink up more beer, you're gonna need it.

One step at a time

2006-07-08T23:20:00.000+08:00

Ants judge distance by counting steps

When i came across this article, i can't help but squeal "sooooo cute!!!", against all my reputation of total maleness.

And the next instant pops the image of a tiny ant going "1,2,3,4,5...989...err...991???...oops...damn....argh!!!@#$%&!!!"

That is, of course, totally not what those brilliant scientists meant nor had in mind. Check out the proper scientific paper The Ant Odometer: Stepping on Stilts and Stumps in Science for those who can understand.

It's an elegant piece of work, simple yet decisive. Personally it deserves a placing equal to Karl von Frisch break-through decipher of the bee waggle dance, having answered an unsolved century-old question.

Meanwhile, imagine how to keep count of your steps if you have six legs... hmm. Not an easy feat i bet.

In the pantry

2006-06-29T01:06:00.000+08:00

Slices of warm sundried tomotoes with herbs bread (homemade), Brie cheese and a good bottle of wine can simply send you to the next level of existence... And keep you there for the rest of the afternoon such that no proper work can be attempted. And even cool off the fiery tempers of the laksa i had the day before! Simply magical.

Too bad no pictures to archive the memory.

:Eh, this cheese has expired, do you think it still can be eaten?
G: To me, there's no such thing as expired cheese, it's either cheese or more aged cheese.
(later, during last bits of cheese)
:Eh, i smell something funny.
K: Ya, taste's a bit weird.
:Smell like ammonia. *sniff* Hey it is ammonia! From the cheese!
K: bleargh!

Ears open (as always)

2006-06-23T02:02:00.000+08:00

My music album of the moment. mmm... And possibly for the days to come...

Xbox: the answer to Fermi's Paradox?

2006-06-22T02:35:00.000+08:00

What has Xbox got to do with why we haven't met any aliens?

Quite possibly everything, according to the author of this interesting article: Why we haven't met any aliens.

A refreshing take on the explanation for SETI's failure to locate any extraterrestrial intelligence based on the present directions our own species' technological advancements are heading.

Why invest in an uncertain venture into the unknown when you can recreate all these in Hollywood and make sure the aliens are definitely discovered, scum-dripping, blood-thirsty and all?

Talk about pandering to narcissism at a whole species level!

The author went a step further and boldly predicted the likes of the people who shall inherit this Earth - those who survived the Xbox catastrophe.

Boy, he must really dislike computer games to elevate it to a species-level threat. Join the Armageddon Club: Meteorites, Deadly viruses, Nuclear holocaust, Global warming, and now, Xbox! Either that or he just couldn't get pass those final stages of whatever game he's playing. i know that feeling.

Eventually, the final contact between humans and aliens will not be a historic cultural exchange, but a triumphant affirmation of each other's shared values.

Back to Fermi's question: So why haven't we met any of these practical-minded Xbox-condemning aliens?

Pharoah of the flies

2006-06-22T01:55:00.000+08:00

: "I am your morning and evening star! It shall be as I say!"

(switches off incubator lights)

Evening.

(switches off room lights)

Night.

Escapee: LET MY SPECIES GO!!!

*squisheee~*

3 jobs

2006-06-11T03:17:00.000+08:00

There are three jobs that i had always wanted to try my hands on: a waiter, a pizza delivery boy, and a bus driver.

They are my plan Bs for whatever current endeavours i embark on. If all else fails, these are the jobs interviews i'll go for to tide me out. Can't make it as a scientist? Not even a multi-millionaire artist? Heed the calling, join the ranks of waiters/pizza delivery boys/bus drivers! That's the way to go!

The waiter

My wanting to become a waiter stems from some innate desire to serve people. While some people feel the need to take control, to inspire the crowd, to take the lead in revolutionizing the people, i feel the need to feel lowly and serve, to take orders from above and to please the master. i have no idea how i developed such a desire over my lifetime, maybe it has to do with my zodiac sign, which in the modern context, goes to obedience school and its sole purpose in life is to fetch the master's shoes and look forward to the pat on the head that will simply makes its day.

Also, all those school years listening to pep talks on how we are all indebted to the society and therefore obligated to serve and contribute back certainly has indoctrinated me to derive satisfaction through pleasing members of the society ie. everyone else. My tenacity in being a good listening ear, paying attention to all words sent in my direction is another skill i've picked up during my school days, by listening obediently to the teacher even when all others have faltered and succumbed to the sleep monster or the chatty disease. That basically summarizes my resume describing all the qualities i have to be a worthy waiter.

But the desire to be a waiter goes beyond educational brainwashing. School has imbued in me skills to be a fantastic bureaucrat, a conscientious librarian and a very efficient desktop data-churner, but i don't want to be any of that. The wonderful element in being a waiter is none other than glorious FOOD!

Being able to serve up a good dish is a sacred privilege. Short of being able to whip up a great meal, the next best thing is to be able to serve it up to the customer's table. The waiter is the quintessential link between the guest and the kitchen; he personifies the image of the restaurant, he is part of theambiancee, providing the human relationship between guest and restaurant that defines the standard of the establishment, and of course, he takes your orders.

So here comes the importance of image. We very seldom see the chef who cooked our meals, and i'd like to keep it that way. The unwritten role of the waiter is precisely to keep you away from seeing who exactly cooked up that lobster dish you picked. If you had known, there is half a chance you would lose all sense of appetite, while the other half can't help but be prejudiced towards the dish which it certainly does not deserve.

Now, if you are served by a gorgeous waiter, that will definitely add to the entire dining experience. If the waiter is hideous, well, he's just the waiter after all, the closest he got to the food was serving it to your table. No harm done.

The pizza delivery boy

Being a pizza delivery boy feeds the voyeuristic nature of me. Between the moments when the door opens and shuts in my face, i am let into a part of the owner's world. For that few minutes of my life, i am offered a glimpse into how people are leading their lives. So in exchange for the owner's desire for a piping hot pizza, the deal for me would be delivering pizzas in order to invade others' privacy within a short minute. Extrapolate that out to delivering 100 pizzas and i would have swopped at least 100 minutes of my time in exchange of 100 others!

And what would i get to see? A group of friends throwing a party, the family with the mother too busy playing mahjong to cook, the ideal kid's night-in filled with junk food and tv while the parents are out for dinner, the working couple too exhausted to cook or eat out, the loner with no one else to share a meal with, the lab students stuck in lab running experiments (the saddest of them all!) . All in a day's work.

In some ways it does allow me to revisit the past, stirring up memories of the various pizza-eating occasions i have experienced over the years. But there are only so many memories to fawn over before you start living your life backwards, so i guess this is not going to be a long-term plan at all. But while i'm at it, i'll make it a point to deliver chilled soft drinks and not pizza-cooked warm cans and bottles.

The bus driver

The bus driver aka bus captain nowadays have a optimistic career prospect of rising through the ranks through a new scheme with enhanced salary structure and professional certification and training. Makes you wonder what kind of pay and training were they subjected to previously...

Anyways, that is not why being a bus driver appealed to me. Besides the innate need to serve the public, best achieved by maneuvering a public transport vehicle, it fulfills the busybody part of me that wants to know what other people are up to as well. Add onto it a routine journey to embark on everyday, well then, your mind is pretty much allowed to sink, rot and liquefy.

And then there is the most powerful seat on the roads. Here in the bus driver's seat, you pretty much control the lives of all your passengers (or potential passengers). Your bus will dictate whether they will make it for work in the morning, how long the girlfriend is being stood up for, how much of the trailers he will miss, whether everything's sold out by the time she gets there...

And you have a few tricks to pull these off. See a person running to catch your bus? Look the other way and pretend looking out for traffic and zoom off with the most serious and hardworking look on your face. Early morning crowd packing the bus? Close the bus doors like clamps to catch the juiciest piece of meat and seal the fates of all those behind to face the boss for being late or made to sing the national anthem out loud in the concourse for the prefect's entertainment.

That seat, i say, is indeed like no other. It warrants a certain immunity against all passengers, clearly barricaded from all the rest of us human beings by the plastic flap door. Under no circumstance shall this boundary be violated. Whatever that happens in the passenger section is their own doing and it is by the grace of the bus driver should he decide to step out and interefere with the affairs of his minions. That is why that bus driver felt no obligation to step in when one of his passenger got punched and bloodied by another. i just drive...

Scientific Success: What’s Love Got to Do With It?

2006-05-30T02:21:00.000+08:00

Scientific Success: What’s Love Got to Do With It?

A coincidental find of this article revealing the trails and tribulations of juggling a scientific career and maintaining a relationship, particularly marriage.

No particular new insights or revelations actually, but reading all these personal observations and conjured thoughts in the form of a written article just adds to the accuracy and certainty of it all. Especially hearing anecdotes of scientists lamenting on all the regrets for choosing this path!

Of course to make it a more credible article, one must offer a balanced viewpoint and seek out alternative cases. But one can't help but wonder how much effort the author has to plough through in order to squeeze out that single sub-topic (out of a total seven) espousing the virtues of being in a relationship while persuing a scientific career.

The saddest thing of all is that those relationships that worked depended solely on people you meet in the same field of research. That, in my current situation, amounts to no more than ten likely candidates per year.

If the government had known about these sad facts of a scientist's life earlier, they would probably have issued an outright ban on research and development instead of praising its potential as a ticket to prosperity! i wonder if they are prepared for single-handedly contributing to the lower reproductive success of our most-talented scholars. i guess they can probably grant them life-time memberships to the government's match-making club!

Probability of falling in love

2006-05-26T03:51:00.000+08:00

Out of sheer boredom and inquisitiveness (important attributes in becoming a successful scientist), i set out to work out a formula to finding the probability of falling in love in your own city/locality. This is a purely innocuous exercise for the mind that is meant to be amusing and highly speculative as you shall see. But it does give an interesting insight to the possibilities of falling in love for those lovelorn souls out there.

So here it is:

Maximum number of potential lover = Population size of city/locality X probability of meeting the opposite sex X % of population speaking preferred language X % of population in age range within personal dating age range X % of population within similar education level X % of people you find reasonably attractive

Probability of falling in love per unit time = ( Max. number of potential lovers/Total population) X Rate of being introduced to new people per unit time

My own example:

Population size of city = 4.42 million
Probability of meeting the opposite sex (sex ratio) = 0.5
% of population speaking preferred language at home = 30% (English-speaking + some mandarin-speaking)
Personal dating range = 10yrs
% of population in age range within personal dating range = 15%
% of population within similar education level = 22.8% (Polytechnic + University + Other Diplomas)
% of people i find reasonably attractive = 0.5
Rate of being introduced to new people per yr = 10

Probability of falling in love per year = (4420000x0.5x0.3x0.15x0.228x0.5)/(4420000) x 10
= 0.02565
= 2.565% per year

In other words, there is a chance that i will fall in love with 2 females for every 100 people i'm introduced to within a year! And this is using a very conservative estimate! For example, i can't even stand most undergraduates in the first place, let alone others... Nevertheless, the maximum number of potential lovers is a very useful number. It gives you a good measure of potential mates out there and you can prepare accordingly to target this specific group of people to meet!

There are, of course, numerous assumptions that i have to make in order for this formula to work. Once you understand these assumptions, you can tweak the formula accordingly to tailor for your personal needs.

Assumptions:
1) You spend 100% of your time in your city, making them your only source of interaction with people.
2) You are attracted to only one single sex and not both at the same time.
3) You are most likely to fall in love with someone you can communicate well with. The indirect measure of this is by the language preferably spoken and also by sharing similar education background.
4) Differences in religious and racial backgrounds are not put into consideration. To include them as factors, multiply the maximum number of potential lovers by the percentage of preferred race or religion in the population.
5) There are people out there that you find reasonably attractive.
6) You can fall in love with the same person twice or more.

There are other variables that i may have overlooked at this wee hour of night, so this formula is currently just a prototype. Also, there are potentially many ways to make it more accurate by narrowing and adding more variables to be considered. The sampling techniques can be further refined as well. So do try it out and feedback to me!

This is my best use of my knowledge in probability and statistics so far!!! For once i found a fun use in mathematics!

Against the truthfulness in death

2006-05-18T03:48:00.000+08:00

Ever felt the lure of death? That urge to end your life then and there, often in a most spectacular way.

i hesitate to classify it as suicidal thoughts, as being suicidal implies a certain dissatisfaction of life as a reason to end it. The lure of death is not a reaction to all of life's disappointments, nor does it hold a promise of a better afterlife. But it tempts you with the truthfulness in the act of dying. Satisfaction guaranteed.

If you hurl yourself onto a speeding car such that it has no time to avoid you, you will smash the windscreen. The force of impact will send shockwaves through your gelatinous brain, rupturing the tiny blood capillaries and causing multiple haemorrhages across the cerebral sphere. You are thrown off the car as it screeched to a halt, your body is flung forward, hurtling in a parabolic projectile motion. The acrobatics in the air ends with heavy certainty as your body hits the tarred road. The final blow arrives as your head hits hard on the ground, cracking the skull and sending shards of skull fragments piercing into your brain. Your lungs are punctured by your broken ribs, your heart traumatised by the impact, and your spine has snapped. Your last breath escapes as your lungs collapsed. It's over, you are dead. Then. And there.

Thoughts like this surface inside me all the time. Be it crossing the road, on the overhead bridge, in a glass building, waiting for an incoming train, standing in a bus, or peeing in the toilet, morbid thoughts of worst-case scenarios bubble forward in excitement. It makes you feel that the difference between life and death is so precariously slim. One step, one touch, one jump, one turn, or one slip, is all it takes for you to cross over to the other side. i wonder if the ease of transition from death to life could be that accidental as well... We are familiar with tragic accidents resulting in fatalities. Likewise there are sexual accidents that causes life. But does that require the transition from a state of death to that of life?

It is my daily struggle not to succumb to these lures of death that has kept me alive so far. Life in this way is a struggle of not-dying, an act of anti-death. It is an act against the truthfulness of dying, an act to resist the certainty and purity that is within death, and put up with the lies of living. It is back to the basic survival cues of warding off death and staying alive as long as possible. As real as these urges to step over may be, they are just as much imaginary. It entrusts the responsibility of staying alive solely upon your own shoulders. It gives me control. It makes me feel thrilled to be alive. In this modern living where abrupt mortality is low, self-generated dangers are much needed to maintain the senses and induce the tingling sensation of being alive. i feed upon my very own existence. i feel alive because i am alive. And i have the lure of death to constantly remind me of my state of being.

So would the definition of life be diminished if the threat of death is obliterated? What does being alive mean when you are no longer afraid of dying? Not much of a thrill i bet.

$200 answers

2006-05-18T02:03:00.000+08:00

Eye Doctor: Your eyes are fine

: So i can do sports? Like tennis?

Eye Doctor: Yes, as long as the tennis ball doesn't hit your eye. (duh! who doesn't get injured when that happens?!)

: So there's no risk in sports with high impact? Like hang-gliding?

Eye Doctor: No problem, as long as the direct impact is on your body, not the eye, like the tennis ball. (in other words even if my body get smashed into bits, my eyes will be fine? Woohoo!)

Yippee! i can do hang-gliding!!! Forgot to ask about bungee-jumping or sky-diving. But hey, who wants to do that when you can do hang-gliding!

Damn, one less reason for not having kids...

Scent of a human

2006-05-09T01:03:00.001+08:00

People say humans have a poor sense of smell. i say people have a poor sense of when to smell. To catch the scent of a human, the timing to which you inhale is the crux.

i have found, that to effectively capture the scent of a passing human, short of pressing your nose to their neck, or sinking it into their armpits, is to inhale half a second after they have brushed past you. As you would have realised, we do not have the luxury of obtaining permission to press or sink the nose into any stranger like a dog would, this half-a-second-later whiff is a good method of collecting additional personal information.

The passing wake behind a person carries with it the richest odourous information, very much due to the fluid dynamics of air and all volatile chemicals. The draft created by a person's motion causes disturbances in airflow, which are formed as eddy currents. These eddy currents picks up volatile cues off a person's body, concentrate it by swirling motions and traps it in the region just behind a person's body. That waft of air contains the mixture of the chemical signature of the person, nicely blended with the chemical dressing of his/her choice, be it deodorant, perfume, cologne, sweat, dirt, oil, etc.

Try this method out the next time you step out of the house. On the bus, sit on the aisle seat so you can catch the wafting scents of every passenger passing you. On the walkway, every pedestrian walking past you. At the park, every jogger or stroller. i can assure you that you will develop a new diversity of smell associated with people! Then the next trick is the discerning anticipation, followed by holding your breath for the 2 second after a selected person has brushed past you. This will apply most often to acrid sour smelling students, chain-smoked old-men, and other foul-smelling candidates (mostly guys).

Sometimes the half-a-second rule need not apply. This is in the presence of people (usually middle-age tai-tais) who generously pour on perfumes like trying to douse a fire, of which their hairstyle resembles, or had aspiring dreams once of becoming a fire-extinguisher-toting fire-fighter. In these cases the concentration of chemical molecules are so dense that by sheer Brownian motion and convectional current, the pungency hits you way before you realise the need to hold the breath.

So yes, it is a difficult skill to master, but once you attain it, the added dimension of smell into your world, especially when checking the opposite sex out, makes it all the more exciting to the senses.

pressing moral issues

2006-05-09T01:03:00.000+08:00

A good measure of the seriousness of a breach in morality is how big a news it can generate. Not to say that all news are about morality breaches, but a good portion of them is. Whenever a crime is committed, a politician's affair exposed, a business fraud revealed, a mismanagement of public funds, a murder, a rape, a runaway soccer player, a newbie politician who fumbled, makes juicy news.

A good measure of the seriousness of a breach in morality is how long a piece of news can last. Main headlines and tabloid coverage, followed by commentary columns, analysis, inspired comics, generates forum letters, discussion forums, tv interviews of authorities, poll on public reaction, satirical columns, and hopefully a movie eventually.

A journalist who can find a news with all these listed potential may as well hit a career jackpot. A good measure of the seriousness of a breach in morality is how much a journalist is willing to pay for first access to the news. Then by sensationalizing it, the journalist hopes to stretch the lifespan of that piece of news. Then the news pretty much takes a life of it's own till it's all spent, then it fades gradually into oblivion...

from a coffee bean's perspective

2006-04-11T00:24:00.006+08:00

You are the air you breathe

You are the Evian water you drink

You are the Oreo cookie

You are the Pringles Macho Nacho chips

You are the Mustard and Rosemary Lamb with tomato chutney and side salad

The old saying, 'You are what you eat' couldn't be more true.

And yet you are more than that...

If you can tag every single molecule that goes into and out of your body, the dynamism of molecular exchange between you and the environment would be astounding, and the distinction of the uniquely you starts to dissipate. If you are to trace the entire life-journey of a single carbon atom, it will be an amazing voyage.

Hi, i'm a carbon-14. i lead an idyllic life floating in the atmosphere. One day i was minding my own business when i got sucked into a leaf stomata and forced into bonding with 5 other carbon-14s. Not that i mind that much, they were great guys. We eventually got our own bachelor pad in a cool underground potato. But that didn't last long. Our bachelor pad potato got sliced and deep fried into Macdonald's fries. Then we got introduced to this Ronald guy through his gut. We met lots of other Carbon dudes in their own circle of friends in the liver, and we bumped into some rather sour carbon stuck with those snobbish oxygen and hydrogen punks in the blood stream and he cursed and swore that one day we'll end up in the same fate as him. We got a temporary abode in the thigh muscle, but one day Ronald, intending to impress a date, decided to go jogging. That totally screwed up our plans and these burly enzyme guys barged in and broke us all up. And it was downhill from then on. i got coupled with some weirdo nitrogen nerd and got locked up back in the liver. When i finally managed to free myself, i got into bad company with some of those oxygen snobs and hydrogen punks and before i know it, they betrayed me to some bouncer guy and i got expelled right back out into the atmosphere. Oh well, just my luck. Think i'll go find some mountain to hide in and come back out in a grand explosion a million years later.

Our body is a mosaic of atoms descended from the beginning of time, in transit.

We are the dust of stars.

That inch of hair came from last month's focaccia.

That new bulge of muscle was that delicious chicken backside last week.

That earwax used to be part of Spinelli's Philly cheesecake.

That additional curve in your butt was contributed by last wednesday's lovely Tiramisu.

That clot in your artery was sponsored by yesterday's fried carrot cake...

The breakdown of the physical form of food and the assimilation of the basic components into a totally new structure, contributing to the larger scheme in the form of a human being echoes the very essence of Picasso's aesthetic beliefs. Analytical cubism is the art of taking a three-dimensional object, break it down to its aesthetic essence of lines and colour, and through different perspectives, reinterpret those lines and colour and reconstruct these elements. The art of deconstruction, interpretation and reassimilation is a good challenge to any artist willing to acquire a trained mind. Picasso would have been a great reductionistic scientist, too bad he chose Art, probably to allow the support of more mistresses. So there, i have established a link between theoretical Art and reductionist Science.

They say scientists are machines that converts coffee into theories.

Then humans as a whole must be the realised dream of every coffee bean. For it is through us that a coffee bean can achieve so much more. The coffee bean that painted Mona Lisa. The coffee bean that conquered Mt. Everest. The coffee bean that invented the atomic bomb. The coffee bean that went to the moon...

In the eyes of every coffee bean, we are the ingenious vessels that make all things possible. And our very existence has just become all the more justified and meaningful. For those still searching for the meaning of life and have miraculously escaped those ever-on-the-lookout evangelical eyes, how's this for a choice?

PS. to the discerning people familiar with the periodic table: even though naturally-occurring carbon exists mostly as carbon-12, the rare radioactive carbon-14 is also taken up during photosynthesis in proportion to it's natural occurrence, hence creating the basis of the radiocarbon-dating technique. Choice of carbon-14 in the story-plot is purely personal and does not represent any biasness in proportion of carbon-14 existing in your body.

The unbearable lightness of being

2006-04-11T00:24:00.005+08:00

We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.

There is no means of testing which decision is better, because there is no basis for comparison. We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself?

To ensure that erotic friendship never grew into the aggression of love,... ...abide by the rule of threes. Either you see a woman three times in quick succession and then never again, or you maintain relations over the years but make sure that the rendezvous are at least three weeks apart.

Love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation but in the desire for shared sleep.

~milan kundera
excerpts from The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Eternally yours

2006-04-11T00:24:00.004+08:00

In the dimension known as blogger.com, time has frozen into perpetuity.

My world has stopped at Tuesday April 11 2006 12:24am.

Everyday is Tuesday April 11 2006 12:24am.

Every date is Tuesday April 11 2006 12:24am.

Every hour is Tuesday April 11 2006 12:24am.

Every minute is Tuesday April 11 2006 12:24am.

This has just challenged Einstein's General Theory on Relativity...

Die by immortality

2006-04-11T00:24:00.003+08:00

i have found an effective prevention to most cancers: die early.

The development of cancer is a multi-step process undertaken by the newly-initiated metastatic-wannabe cells. More severe than all the elimination rounds, screenings, voting-offs witnessed on reality tv shows, more than 99.9% of the wannabe tumour cells have to accept the same fate as all other normal civilian cells: death.

Only that one in a millionth cancer cell achieves ultimate enlightenment and is bestowed immortality. Then it is allowed to create as much havoc as it wishes within the body.

There is nothing inherently malevolent in malignant tumours. You must understand that like all living things, cancer cells are following the natural law of selection. In this cold harsh world, everyone fights against all the forces that wants to eliminate your existence. Competition exists out in the jungle as well as in the micro-cosmos of your body. May the best cell wins.

Selection for a better chance at surviving and generating more offspring applies to the individual cell as well. Cancer is not an ugly monster that emerged out of our modern lifestyle, but a natural phenomenon accelerated by the environmental conditions we put ourselves in.

Buddhist teachings speaks of many levels of meditation before attaining nirvana. i'm not sure about humans as a whole but it definitely applies to the cells that turn cancerous within us. Achieve unlimited reproductive potential? Congrats! Now you can move on to the next stage: angiogenesis, good luck!

Ironically in an age where spiritual enlightenment may not be the most popular pursuit, where immortality appears more achievable via scientific progress, our very own cells are achieving what humankind had lusted for since someone rumoured the existence of elixirs. And their very immortality is what is further determining our death evermore swiftly. We beat ourselves to our own game. So did we win or not?

All a cell need is time, and a little bit of luck, and immortality can be attained. So if you don't wish to get cancer, die early. If not, the longer you live, the more likely cancer will end it. Either way, you can't evade death. It's like death has placed a pre-emptive strike on us, with the cruelest twist of fate. Die by immortality. What good is an immortal cell in a mortal being? It's like playing the best live music in outer space, except worse.

french waterbears

2006-04-11T00:24:00.001+08:00

A movieclip of a cute tardigrade (common name: waterbear) shown as a screensaver, moving to the tune of an old French song defined my early fieldtrip days.

i can't think of a way to present the image and picture here without getting my ass sued, so here's a little DIY:

Visit the tardigrade website and take a look at the very best video clips, find a way to get your hands on the song La Mer (Beyond the Sea) and play the song while watching the waterbear move and cuteness will just ooze right out of your screen!

The original song i heard was Sympathique by Pink Martini but i believe there's no free samples available online. La Mer should be able to achieve the same effect, especially the french version. i dunno, there's something connecting french with waterbears...

In case you are still wondering what waterbears are, they are these adorable microscopic creatures that look like bears when all puffed up, and they live in all kinds of water, hence the common name waterbears. They move in this steady stride fashion, with all its eight legs one at a time. A good comparison of its appearance is the cat-bus featured in the japanese anime totoro, in slow motion.

My ever-resourceful friend serendipitously bought an album with the Sympathique song and happens to share it with me, and memories just flooded back. It totally made my day, my week, my month! Ok maybe too early for my year... but you can imagine the elation. That's why i'm sharing this with the rest of the world. And i owe her a toilet cake, gladly.

Personality DNA

2006-04-11T00:24:00.000+08:00

Here's the personality test i was talking about.
http://www.personaldna.com/

Believe me, it has nothing to do with DNA, other than how it got you this personality!
And if you are wondering what kind of freak i am...

Concerned Inventor

This is my individual report for closer scrutiny
My Personal Dna Report

How accurate is it? i would say pretty close to how i perceive myself. i should get my psychologist friend to evaluate it. Haha, evaluating an evaluation! But knowing that i scored higher on feminity than a female friend makes it very convincing indeed! (because it's true!)
There's another one which ranks you according to Sesame Street characters, but its accuracy is put in serious doubt as it is designed by a non-professional...

Sigh, nowadays the term DNA has been abused left right center.

Example:

DNA of a soldier: loyalty to country, leadership, discipline, professionalism, fighting spirit, ethics, care for soldier

Pretty cheap looks works

2006-04-08T01:28:00.001+08:00

You know how i'd always daydream about what if i had taken the other path. Not the one about me being more hardworking instead of daydreaming here, but the "what if i had chosen to pursue the arts?" one. Well now i'm beginning to doubt that would have ever worked out.

What prompted the rethink was a couple of online personality tests i took recently. The kind that simplifies your life into a set of multiple-choice questions that you will unambiguously choose no matter if you are just pondering on the potty or hanging for dear life over a precipice with cannibals on the other side of the cliff howling for your blood. And one was the standard choice of aesthetics over practicality or vice versa. Under this kind of excruciating circumstances - facing a computer with an MCQ to answer, or being pursued by King Kong, for that matter, it seems like my eventual choice (decisions are never easy for me to make, thank goodness there's no timer!) is always a sacrifice of aesthetic beauty for the sake of functionality. And it dawned on me that i truly have that belief implanted somewhere in my brain. Tell me what good an artist will make when beauty is the first thing he bails out of the boat?

We were taught that the ultimate challenge for a designer is to achieve both aesthetic beauty and functionality, a feat possible by only the most worked minds. It's true. Very often, the most gorgeous gadget that caught your eye is the most useless thing in the world. Things you wouldn't want to be your only companions when stranded on a deserted island, besides drawing a happy face on it and calling it your best friend. =)

Shoes are a good example. i have been dragged to enough shoe shops recently to at least learn something from them. And it is this: the most delightfully-looking shoe is very often the worst torture your feet never deserves, and it is always the plain, humble ones that pampers your feet. Unfortunately the force driving females to buy unnecessarily large numbers of shoes is not comfort, it is prettiness. It is then perhaps the ultimate challenge for the shoe-shopper to discover a pair of shoes that has aesthetic beauty and not disfigure her feet at the same time.

i'm not sure when exactly did i adopt utilitarianism, but i suspect it has to do with the whole "the world can satisfy our needs, but not our greed" rationale and perhaps the self-imposed abject poverty status i have currently. When you have limited resources, it just doesn't make sense to create something unnecessary. Aesthetics are only for those that can afford living in excesses, that's where creativity and diversity thrives. Artists would befoul the utterly misconstrued notions, and champion for the need of aesthetics as nourishment to the soul, as an essentiality far beyond our basic needs, or sometimes redefined as one of our basic needs. Ever realise famous artworks fetch grand prices, collected only by the rich, while most artistes are poor! The compromise is thus the ability to establish beauty without utilising more resources than already required, and it is achievable, albeit rarely.

Utilitarianism is reflected in the things i own. It is just too much effort to search for that object that works fine AND looks good AND is reasonably-priced, such that i opt for the first and third criteria with manageable looks. i tend not to emphasize much on the looks, like the "white cat, black cat, as long as it catches mice, it's a good cat" rationale, due credit should be given. Again, aesthetics suffers under my hand... Just look at the clothes i wear.

Then comes my doubt over my artistic skills. Drawing takes practice, and i can't draw any better nowadays with the lack of it. It's not talent, believe me, the first drawing i did, which was a frog, was hideous. Sure i can look back at my past glories. But who considers their initial accomplishments in their teenage years as the pinnacle of their performance in life (Mozart notwithstanding)? Those that do either didn't live that long thereafter or are just losers in their later lives. It's what you do with those achievements that allows you to climb even higher that matters. For me, i chose another ladder to climb.

And back then, it was the philosophy and intellect behind Art that captivated me the most. We couldn't grasp the importance of brainstorming, or the dreaded "permutations". Execution of artworks were almost always a disappointment. My hands fail to deliver the goods my mind envisions. So which part of me can i consider worthy as a potential artist?

The most i can say now is perhaps i still have a discerning eye, the ability to appreciate beauty when i see one (an inherent male ability i believe). So like my stand on music, i have relegated myself to being appreciative and nothing else.

So, do you still trust my tastes in shoes?

Montaged skies

2006-04-08T01:28:00.000+08:00

This is a picture i took while lounging on a couch waiting for a friend in the washroom at the Australian National Maritime Museum in Sydney's Darling Harbour. Thought the effect came out pretty well. There's a certain Surrealist feel to it, much like the works of René Magritte. Must be the presence of the lighthouse and blue skies. It's nice, if you ignore the occasional scattered streaks. Those are bird droppings on the window panes... i should photoshop those away...

Courtesy stun

2006-04-04T02:17:00.001+08:00

Sometimes i wish i have a courtesy gun.

The courtesy gun is not loaded with real bullets. Death is too light a sentence for those that deserve to be shot by the courtesy gun. i figured there's a lot more worse things that can happen than simply the termination of life, that's like the one-all solution to all problems, but that's another story. Instead, it sends an electric shock down the receiver. Not only will it deliver temporary pain, it also has a magical ability that makes the receiver (victim is not an appropriate word here) realize that they are being shot because of an inconsiderate behaviour they have just committed. So now people are subjected to conditional learning to behave nicely, just like how lab mice learnt how to choose the right trap door. The courtesy campaign has failed miserably. Obviously the "Courtesy begins with me" idea has trouble at the beginning and is going nowhere. Now's the time for the stick method to step in.

Likely candidate receivers of the morality stun includes those who mod their bike exhaust so as to screech down the streets, those who push and shove into the train the moment the train doors open and you have to struggle to get out, those who suddenly cuts into your driving lane forcing you to jam brake and burn your tyres, those who let their mobile phones blare a full minute in the cinema theatre before picking it up to speak twice as loud, those who refuse to move to the back of the bus during peak hours to allow more passengers to board. (Is it a coincidence most examples i can think of relates to transport?) In general, those who are impeding our progressive society's transformation into a gracious society.

Yes i am in a vindictive mood here. Everytime i encounter one of those people listed above, this exact wish will run through my head, and i imagine the person getting stunned into spasms. Makes me feel better.

In the same vein is the real reason why i haven't taken up driving. Not because i have no money, or no time, but this innate urge to ram into inconsiderate drivers. Doesn't matter that my car gets smashed, so does that guy's. That's why in my dream, i'm driving an unassailable, undentable, unscratchable bulldozer.

Don't you just love daydreams? =)

Something to lose

2006-04-04T02:17:00.000+08:00

Imagine your small town or neighbourhood has been slated for redevelopment by higher authorities. One which means that there will be a massive makeover of your streets, your parks, your front lawn, your homes. One which does not have you in the end picture. It has all been decided, in the absence of your knowledge. And there will be no eviction notices mailed to your house. Before you know it, the bulldozers have arrived. You have no time to protest, no time to change out of your pajamas, no time to pack, and nowhere to run.

In the weeks to come, the residents of a patch reef off Pulau Ular will fulfill this scenario. Only that this time, they are marine organisms living in a neighbourhood unfamiliar to most people.

It is under these unfortunate circumstances that a salvage operation was conducted. An unconventional scenario where the conservationists turn into the grim reapers of the creatures that depends on us for their survival. It is like the vet that has to put the pet to sleep, or the doctor that has to pull the plug. A salvage ops warrants us with the license to kill on sight any living organism, a license nobody is happy to bear. But in the days leading to their ultimate demise, a salvage ops attempts to document as much as possible whatever that had existed there, perhaps to showcase later the extent of loss we had experienced.

i spent the two mornings over the weekend carrying out the salvage, waking up at a time that i usually go to bed. It's been ages since i last witnessed a sunrise... We made an amphibious landing at the patch reef at the break of dawn, and promptly set to work.

A patch reef is a standalone coral reef in the middle of the sea that is usually submerged but reveals itself partially at low tide for a short time period. It is the bane of many sailors, and had caused numerous shipwrecks throughout history. Over here, many had already been blown to bits for ease of sea navigation. This time, it's slated for land reclamation.

A patch reef is like an oasis of life, both marine and intertidal. In the short time window the tide allows us, the list of organisms we find there is astounding. Lots of fishes (nemo included), corals, sea anemones, marine spiders, crabs of all shapes and sizes, sea squirts, octopus, shrimps, cushion stars, brittlestars, giant clams, plenty of marine snails, gorgeous nudibranchs, a shy sea snake, just to name a few... It is truly a metropolis of the natural world, where almost every type of living thing is represented in abundance!

It's sad to realise we were among the last to ever set foot on the reef, and definitely the few who got to appreciate the beauty and richness of life this small patch houses. It's not everyday that a salvage ops is carried out (thankfully!), but it occurs often enough here for a few of us to be considered "experienced salvagers". Chek Jawa was a fortunate site to be reprieved from planned development, and a sign of changing attitudes. Yes, change is in the air, but to what extent our natural environment can be preserved amidst our relentless pace of development in the near future is anybody's guess.

N.B. The sea snake was spared, as it can swim away when disturbed, unlike the rest which hides into burrows or protective shells/coverings, hoping for the worst to be over when they pop back out again. This is not to be for what is to befall them...

an amphibian analogy

2006-03-24T01:46:00.001+08:00

"...Or are we like frogs in a boiling pot?..."

i was faced with this question recently without the slightest clue to its inherent meaning.

Frog in a boiling pot: Apparently a well-used analogy to describe subtle detrimental change that goes unnoticed. When a frog is placed in a pot of water and gradually heated up, the rise in temperature is so insignificant that the frog does not notice the change. Eventually the pot reaches boiling point and the frog unknowingly gets cooked. In contrast, if you were to throw a frog straight into a boiling pot, it would immediately jump straight out. Hence, without checks in a system, failure to trigger alarm bells at appropriate levels will mean certain downfall.

Yeah right, like a frog is that dumb! That's the biologist in me hurling in reaction. Ok i concede it is but a fable, but my unreasonable self refuse to give in. Give the poor frog a break man, let it have some credit now. The frogs have been through tough times, being turned into a prince, condemned to live in a well and branded as nanny state citizens in fables.

It must have been the frog dissection class i had recently. When you cut something up, and have a good stirring of their innards, a new bond develops between the stirrer and the stiree. A deep connection between the two species is established in some ethereal plane and you feel a sense of greater mutual understanding beyond any physical communication can achieve. You know its pains and sorrows, its delights and fetishes, its adolescent crushes and wet dreams, and all of its childhood dreams and ambitions. And now you tell me it doesn't know when the water gets too hot for comfort. Please cite the author/s, date of publication, title of article, name of journal, volume number and page range, thank you.

Commendable is the noble sacrifice the frog made, to demonstrate to ignorant students how a flap of its belly skin transports salts, or how its heart can remain beating for up to 4hrs when isolated in suitable solution (mine lasted no more than 10 miserable minutes). And how humiliating it must be, to be cut open and probed around to determine its gender by sex organs. My heart goes out to the frogs whose humble contributions greatly benefitted human society's unstoppable progress. Here's a tribute to a frog i once knew who can't aim its tongue for nuts when offered crickets as meals and hurls itself straight at walls, may it rest in peace.

N.B. all frogs described in morbid circumstances are already rendered clinically dead by the most ethical methods.

Service for Life

2006-03-24T01:46:00.000+08:00

I work in the hospitality and lifestyle service industry. Here at EBL, we are the sole provider of a unique premium service to our clients. This involves a commitment to ensuring that our clients enjoy the top-most quality of life throughout their stay with us.

We provide the most luxurious and comfortable setting right from birth to the end of lives for our clients. Our life-long assurance of comfort and security to our clients takes precedence in this region. We offer the best accomodations, with well-controlled ambient living-conditions. We prepare the purest quality of selected cuisines our clients are most fond of, and even designed a conducive social environment for maximal interactions among our clients. Family-planning has also been incorporated into our services, where the best settings have been established to nurture the young. As evident by now, our commitment to our clientele stretches beyond the individual and involves generations.

Sounds too good to be true? Unfortunately, our endeavour does face a few risks. Several clients may attempt to evade payment by fleeing off. These clients, when found, are meted with immediate termination of their lives as part of the necessary deterrant actions.

In fact, in a continual effort to better understand the wants and the needs of our clients, a small number of them are required to be sacrificed for our research and development unit occasionally to discover potential measures of improving their lives. Our current pool of clients hail from Europe, South- and South-east Asia, and continues to expand at the international front. We envision that our services will increase in value in the years to come and contributes significantly to the global well-being of our clients.

You see, my clients are a distinguished line of flies. I serve to ensure their continued cultured existence.

It starts with sandwich

2006-03-06T03:20:00.000+08:00

24 years of existence, i have never made a proper meal for my family, helping cut and stir stuff in the kitchen notwithstanding. It starts with sandwich.

For years i have been searching for recipe books for sandwiches, with not a dent of luck. A recent foray got me to throw a challenge to a friend: find me a sandwich recipe book, and i'll make sandwiches for you. The next day, she fished out two from the library. Blame it on my utter lack of resourcefulness, or just plain "never try hard enough", but a promise is a promise.

i have a keen relationship with computer games, its virtues i shall exhort some other day. But its ensnarement of this humble soul here is almost complete. It's one of those love-hate relationship, where you relish the delights of the time spent, but at the same time loathe the insidious destruction of your identity. Hell, the latest one even outlasted a human relationship i had! "i wished i knew how to quit you"!!! It starts with sandwich.

It took a bit of planning, but i made sandwiches for my family on Saturday, and invited her along, a skeptic of any presence of cooking skills within me, to eat as witness. So yes, i bought, prepared, cooked, made sandwiches, in three varieties. It's not food fit for the king, but it's edible, and like no sandwiches available out in the streets. You see, it starts with sandwich, and i plan for more to come...

accessing the brain...

2006-03-05T11:20:00.000+08:00

"If only we could download our thoughts, and upload them straight away."

My thoughts are all now bottle-necked at the brain-to-hand transit lounge due to 'technical difficulties'.

"Please take a queue number and wait for your turn patiently, our staff will attend to you as soon as possible. Thank you and have a nice day."