Do a good deed by visiting the website http://www.fighthunger.org/. Type your email addy, confirm on the "Click to Feed a Child" bar and one child will be fed by the corresponding sponsors!

So far only 180268 children have been fed through the site. If you think that's already a lot, there are 300 million other hungry children left in the world! Malnourished, starving, dying.

Do your part ok? You can use the same email addy over and over again.

You may be interested in http://www.makepovertyhistory.org/ too.

I spent this weekend bedridden to nurse a nasty fever.

Looking back, last weekend was so eventful and I thought it deserved a belated entry.

Ronghao and I spontaneously decided to stay overnight at Hotel 81 Chinatown and to wake up on Sunday for a run before going for meditation class, since it's all in the same area.

But the rate was $119! And the receptionist there shot us a suspecting look, like what's two guys up to booking a room late Saturday night.

So we left and settled for this outlet eventually.

Hotel 81 Hollywood @ Geylang Lorong 8

Our room was something like this. Decent for a rate of $59.

Well we were at Geylang and there was so much that I haven't seen before! So after checking in, we thronged the infamous even-numbered lorongs to check out its nightlife.

It was eye-opening.

But little did I expect a mere spectator like me would get into some action.

Like being touted by the preying pimps.

“Boy 啊，你要不要?”

And whores themselves.

A young Chinese prostitute in lime green spaghetti strap suddenly pounced onto me, grabbed my hand and girlishly giggled,

"Heehee, 我抓到你了."

!!!I was too overwhelmed to catch what's after this dumb sentence. The only thought I had was a dirty and probably infectious organism was clinging onto me and I had to get rid of it asap. In a disinterested tone I replied,

"请放开我."

That sounds dumb alright. But what a thing to say to a prostitute! I think it might have hurt her whorely ego or something. Poor slut.

You may be asking why do such a thing like tour Geylang? Considering I have seen the prostitution business in HK and Taiwan, it doesn't make sense for me not even to have a visual image of Singapore's own. It doesn't harm to see more as long as you know where to draw the line.

Then we had supper. The next day we jogged from the hotel to Dunman High when the rest of the world was doing the Big Walk in the other direction.

It feels good to be doing something different.

If political satire interests you, visit this website which is mainly arrowed at our outgoing Transport Minister. Rather insightful, though I pity Teo Eng Siang for being slammed along with the rest.

Visit my second sub-blog http://subwaydharma.blogspot.com if you are interested in what I learn at Odiyana Buddhist Meditation Society.

It was intended to be a personal notebook of teachings but I guess there is no harm in sharing wisdom that is more conventional than religious.

Hope I'll be disciplined enough to give regular updates there, unlike my other sub-blog. =x

I recently saw a warrant officer with the initials C B CHOW. What an unfortunate coincidence!

And relating to it, I recall my relief teaching days where in my Normal Technical class I came across names like Xiaoqiang and Meili, you know those phoney boys and girls you meet in your primary school Chinese textbooks, probably named with such negligence for the greater purpose of enabling kids with pathetic vocabulary to read aloud a passage with less segments of muteness, meanwhile to instill in them some false sense of confidence.

I feel sorry for Xiaoqiang and Meili. Their names do not make them less respectable but can't their parents put more thought in making such an important and irreversible decision?

Or are they, I bastardly guess, living proof that academic, strictly academic, ability is purely hereditary and their parents with limited capacity for facts as well as words choose to settle for convenient combinations for their children's names?

Or is the effort displayed by their parents in naming them also telling of the effort put in nurturing them in academic development, which thereby deprived them of a more academic-centred education?

I don't intend to be discriminating here but given that these kids were born in the 90s, such names are the least expected. And names like this didn't appear in my other classes.

I sincerely wish Xiaoqiang and Meili well; that their lives would go far beyond the imprudent simpleness of their names.

A bad haircut can really spoil your day, especially when you already aren't too pleasant looking.

For good-lookers the harshest comments, probably stemming from jealousy, will go "Poor thing, he's got a bad deal from the barber." For non-lookers the mildest critisms will go "He's actually quite ugly huh, just that his previous hairstyle saved him somehow."

Anyway, I was fortunate enough to be serviced by a novice at QB House today. You know from the first move if the hairdresser is xinjiao or laojiao.

The unhesitant laojiao when using a shaver will almost recklessly start razing off from any patch of hair at the rear, execute swift but steady moves and without fail, deliver hair of even length despite the haphazard paths taken by the shaver.

The meticulous xinjiao whom I got used the shaver like how a senile grandfather would use a lawnmower. One rectangular patch razed umpteen times to arithmetic perfection before proceeding to the next patch to do the same. So much for its Quick Beauty - 10 minutes branding. There were a lot of patches mind you.

Not just that. She held the shaver with 2 hands. A normal hairdresser would place 1 hand to stabilise my head before razing off but she didn't; with both hands on the shaver, she razed and my head bobbed forward with her every move like how a helpless buoy would with every oncoming wave. The mirror told me I looked pathetic.

Thankfully she was fine with those scissors and the end product was, well, passable.

For those interested, my mole is in a dangly state already and from far it looks like a housefly pit-stopping on my face. Quite gross actually.

Jingxian has been recommending this Japanese buffet restaurant since J1 but I only recently got to try it.

Thumbs up! I actually prefer it to Pariss despite the latter's more formidable variety because being a picky eater, there is a lot of food at Pariss which I won't even bother to try. Almost everything at Kuishin-bo appetises me on the other hand. Asian connection perhaps.

Not forgetting the most appropriate company for a buffet - fellow armymates who are too at the mercy of SFI food. See us above, bloated and berserk after a rare satisfying meal!

I've been quite a culture vulture for the past 2 days.

A revisit to Edward Music House on Sunday completed my collection of Chen Qizhen's albums! And apparently the boss there has close links with her and he revealed that she will be having a concert at Indoor Stadium later this year! :) It's time to save up for that and Forbidden City.

I then proceeded to Esplanade for a choral concert by University of Santo Tomas Singers, the only Asian choir to date who have received the Choir Of The World Grand Prize. A symphonic orchestra would have less impact than their voices seriously; it was awesome.

And today, I travelled the length of S'pore to Bukit Batok East Community Club for a 导读会 for the book 我的中国结 by 吴韦材. I bought the book 3 weeks ago and it so happened that there is a 导读会 for it! The interactive session at the end was the most insightful as those cheena ah cheks scrambled to lecture everyone with their take on things and irrelevant ideologies.

For once I found them educating for offering different perspectives and not just being loud stubborn chauvinists. I remained muted throughout though. Maybe such things come with age.

We parked at a worksite and braved the secludedness of Changi Coast Road for a civilian opportunity to see planes take off. Then I realised what a lucky soldier I have been, for the occasional duties at the guard post beside the airport runway.

I took a Buddhist refuge vow today. This is my refuge cord. Not going to say much lah, religion very sensitive. A Vesak Day with added significance.

I shan't hide anymore. My dear friends, please be prepared to accept a brand new me.
















I went for plastic surgery.



No lah, I went to do something to my mole.

I passed by some dodgy beauty centre which had mole removing services and decided to be spontaneous! Some pins and cream did the job and now my mole has this white "yolk" in the mega patch of hideous blackness.

Ok, now you may be wondering: Didn't I mention mole removal? The mole is still there what.

Here comes the catch - it's supposed to drop off my face after two weeks. Hopefully my face doesn't drop along with it. That's why I was initially hesitant to tell people about it. If 14 days later the white yolk remains and the black dot doesn't drop then I can really go for plastic surgery liao.

Considering the status of the beauty centre, the possibility of that is actually quite high, erh high like the probability of Workers' Party winning Aljunied GRC (but yet eventually lost) that kind of high.

Rash. Silly. Vain. Whatever, what's done is done. If it succeeds I shall blog about it 2 weeks later. If it doesn't, well, there will not be photos of me here anymore.

Please drop.

Besides IPPT, I realise another reason for me to keep fit after NS.

Remember those silly Annual Cross Country Races held in schools? Darn. I can foresee myself being coerced to join the Teachers' Category given my would-be status of a young, male and just-out-of-NS teacher.

Picture how embarrassing it would be to collapse halfway and get stretchered, or even worse, resuscitated by your own students who happen to be in St John's. "Is Mr Chan still breathing? I hope he isn't."

Equally humiliating would be to lag behind those grandfatherly yet muscled PE teachers who may be twice my age. Guess I will just pretend that my slow pace was deliberate on account of respecting the elderly and hopefully, get my students to act along with me.

Of course there are worse scenarios, like being overtaken by (gasp!) some matronly Home Econs teacher.

Really scary thoughts. I need to be a little extreme to be motivated at times.

When Hwa Chong Institution (College Section) [I could have just said HCJC] officially opened its new student lounge last year, it bore the name of Fishtank, which presumably came from its exterior oblong shape and see-through walls.

I thought the name was perfectly apt until I entered army to learn that Fishtank is a slang used for the ground level of brothels where whores are exhibited for customers to indicate their preferences.

"We have a Fishtank in Hwa Chong too".

But thankfully, the name is now changed.

It may be me who is suaku but the fact that the name was used originally just goes to show what a protected environment academic high-flyers live in, which in turn makes them unaware of, erh, many other things in life, and in this case, causes to make a fool of themselves.

Nine more months to go, I really hope to learn more. :p

I have pledged to make my weekends more colourful before NDP rehearsals render them non-existent.

The day started with karaoke with two taller guys. I felt doubly inferior when they crooned better than me.

Next I went to Edward Music House at Shaw Towers - a highly recommended shop should you want to purchase exclusive Taiwan and Hongkong imports. I left the shop with Chen Qizhen's latest DVD "Sixteen Days" and a burnt pocket.

I met another two (thankfully shorter) guys for Rochor Original Beancurd. Good stuff admittedly, though reviews tend to be overrated, in print or by word of mouth.

We proceeded to Hark Music Cafe Bar, a 民歌餐厅, situated just opposite Paradiz Centre.

Pretty stylish interior compared to 木船 and 爱琴海. The only drawback would be its spatial setting. The rectangular area makes it impossible for the bulk of audience to be near the stage, unlike the other two which have their seats in a comfortable radius from the stage.

There were two singers for the day and the audience had to vote for whom they thought deserved a chance to be invited back the next time to sing. I put "NO" for both of them and peppered some nasty comments.

Highlight of the day came when the host read out our song dedication for a recent birthday boy, after which he was requested to go on stage and sing a song with one of the singers! That came totally unexpected but I am sure that made a real memorable birthday gift. Muhaha.

The day ended on a high note because of the pleasing election results. I can't say anymore.

今年我买的唯一一张华语专辑 - 胡珂宁的 “如此而已”。没错，她就是那名UFM1003的广播员。专辑里的两首曲子都是她一手包办的哦。虽谈不上是什么扣人心弦的佳作，但富有诚意的小品也是有它们独特的魅力。她对音乐的执着，我们在她主持的 Sunday11也认识到了，不如用实际行动来支持她吧！你能在位于 The Arts House的 Earshot Cafe 买到这张专辑。

妈妈到托儿所上班之前，煮了一锅冬瓜薏米水，吩咐最近频频步操的儿子要记得喝，多喝。

不耐烦的儿子听了，敷衍地答应，妈妈出门后，便到冰箱拿了罐可乐解渴。

真可恶。

多四天就是母亲节了，儿子还没想到该送妈妈什么，你能帮他想想点子吗？

New photos added on Flickr. Go take a look, especially my DHS classmates/squadmates/CIs and HC classmates. :)

Do right handers sling their backpacks only on their right?

And left handers only on their left?

Or has that got nothing to do with one's master hand at all?

It makes sense for people to sling their bags like that for short distances, when the act of putting the other shoulder strap in place may seem too arduous to be worthy, since it's only a matter of seconds before the bag is put down.

But some people just like to carry their bags like that. I do it sometimes too and I ought to kick this habit effected from perpetual laziness away. The resultant lopsided posture is unsightly and is only indicative of one's sloppiness towards appearance, which may be equally telling about one's attitude in life.

So unbecoming. Do remind me the next time you see me like that.

I guess the reason why no food and drinks are allowed in The Picturehouse is that there is simply no time for cleaning up. I exited at 7.10pm from watching Three Times and re-entered at 7.20pm for Invisible Waves and the attendant shot me a bewildered look. Nice snail films they were; not that I have a definite liking for artsy-fartsy films, but action, animation, gore, ghosts don't interest me as much, or rather, at all.

And just as I was worrying about being underdressed and unqualified for such an exclusive cinematic experience, people around me were burping, answering calls and trying hard to be acknowledged critics. Thank you all for the reassurance.