Well, it wasn't that bad a Valentine's Day ! I spent some quality time with a quality friend, and had quite a bit of a quality conversation ! Thanks man, it made me feel better. :) XXOOXXOO.





Cheerios to one and all ! Chinese New Year's coming, after all.










I think this was my favourite phrase of the day: "yes, you are soooooooooo pretty you corpulent black ball." Well, one can't refrain himself from being evil, even for just a moment, on Valentine's, eh ?

Vi Veri Universum Vivus Vici.

How true is that ? In the words of Faustus, did he conquer the universe ? For 28 years he travelled to many places, performing magical acts to kings, doing essentially everything and nothing. 28 years later, he would find himself no where. And he asks or begs for no redemption.

Truth is a powerful tool. And knowledge IS power. An ignorant man has no place on this planet, or universe so to speak. But what did Faustus achieve, after making a pact with the Devil himself, by gaining power of mind when he had no power over destiny ? Or Jung, or Freud, or Thomas Jefferson, or Zarathustra, or Descartes, or Locke ? All were exceptionally intelligent beings, yet they could not defy mortality, nor did their legacy engulf the entire human race.



Forgive me, for it is not the phrase "By the power of truth, I, a living man, have conquered the universe" but truth itself. What is truth ?

Christ and his teachings have dominated the globe for 2 millenia, obviously the prevalent institution of Truth, beating any other philosopher's, well... philosophy. But is it truth because it IS truth, or is it truth because of an overwhelming majority of the 6 billion people living on this planet abide and absorb its teachings as literal truth ?

I have been thinking about it for quite some time already, not thinking as in fleeting thoughts, but really really REALLY thinking about it. And the more I bring myself into places of worship, and have conversations with other people, the more detached I am. It's like a void, gnawing from the inside like a parasite, yet there is no parasite at all.

Truth is supposedly the essential ingredient in the gargantuas conconction that is known as the Unknown. Religion is supposed to be the truth that fills this emptiness.

Yet, with each passing day, I find myself drifting further and further away. I cannot even see the destination that is Truth. It is so dispiriting.




I think I shall continue another time. What a depressing day, and I made it so myself.













Happy Valentine's Day ! : )

You know, had I given it deeper thought, I wouldn't have given up those two tickets for the 2nd leg of the Singapore-Malaysia match 2 saturdays ago.

And so I caught the first game of the finals last wednesday, at the national stadium. The last two times I was there, it was for the Singapore Sevens, once last year and the previous in 2004 with the ruggers. It wouldn't be exact if you called the atmosphere boisterous or rambunctious. After all, It's never full-house at the old stadium for rugby games. Last wednesday, however... was just simply brilliant. The only other time where you'd find yourself seated with 60,000 other Singaporeans there would be during National Day. And nearly half a decade of independence it's become a routine. And routines are wonted conventions, and that means the excitement diminishes every year, like Chinese New Year. Last wednesday, however...

We got there only 20 minutes into the match after Alam Shah scored for first blood. There were boys, and girls, and teenagers, and older men and women, uncles if you like. Looking all around, there was a common sight of RED. The majority of the 60,000 (or 55,000 to be a tat bit more specific) spectators were wearing red. All around you, there were Singaporeans. The moment I sat down onto one of the old benches of the stadium, it was just pure beauty. The benches are considerably old, as noted by the "uncle" beside me. He must have been there numerous times already. Every breath I took was just exhilarating ! Every colour (if I may) of race of any age of any profession of any school of any background were here for a single-minded purpose: Spectate Singapore's Win.

That is the true beauty of Fanship. The single-minded purpose of watching, of having an extreme desire for, the Lions win it for us. I'll say it again. Win it, for us. Win, it, for, Us. It sure was controversial. Even my colleagues mentioned that it was bad for Singapore to win that first game. But I don't care. I'll even tell my students what I'm going to say next, if I have to. This is what being a fan is about. You support your home team on home soil. You cheer for the Lions on Singaporean soil. You scream for an orgasmic moment when your home team scores on home ground. I don't think booing the opponent is wrong. Eminem wouldn't cheer for the Lakers when they visit the Pistons. He'd definitely jeer along with the 20,000 other Detroit fans. That is fan Love. Love is watching Singapore score the penalty (albeit a controversial call by the referee) and having the comforting knowledge that your home team is one goal up on the aggregate score board. Love is watching Khairul Amri put up a breath taking right-footer in the last moments of the second game, and knowing you're not the only one jumping out of the living room couch in ecstatic euphoria when thousands of others screaming in blithe.

My point is, there is still hope here in Singapore. We don't have a La Marseillaise for an anthem, or a Civil War for unity of common roots, but we do have football, in the form of the Lions, to be our amalgamator.



I used to dis' Singapore all the time in younger days. I never had a stalwart reason for that, just being the typical discontented little Singafuckerporean. Through time till now, I've started to think about this, and it could have been the one good thing that the army's done to my brain. The typical Singafuckerporean mentality is to emmigrate, or run away for worse words, when the going gets tough. A little bit of this, and a little bit of that, just minor specs of discontentment and the thought of emmigration hits like a molotov cocktail. That is FUBAR. After serious and concise thought, where can I go ? Australia with aunt Linda and uncle George, and Damien ? With my cousin in the States ? Or go into hiding with Sacha Baron Cohen in Khazhakstan ? Every other option is unfathomable ! Even if I do leave the country in times of hardship, I'll be leaving behind everyone and everything I have loved and called brother or family or friends. All will be just specs of a distant past left in the ashes and dust of what would remain of Singapore. I would be labelled PUSSY on my forehead.

Still, if war does occur, and it is very difficult to fathom of a war here, I wouldn't know if I'd take up arms and fight. Legally I can't, because of my PES status. But in dire times, law is never abidded, only bullets and shells have the say of the day.

Well. Cheers to being Singaporean :) One Nation, One People, One Singapore.











Anyone read Richard Dawkin's latest book yet ? I think I'll blog about it on another occasion. Somehow, I am very scared that our thoughts are so similar, though those of his are a lot more advanced than mine.