My Number One Indulgence

It's not everyday that one finds someone or something magical.

My 26 year "love affair" with Japanese singer Akina Nakamori (中森明菜) occurred in January 1984 via an evening newspaper (新明日报) calendar showcasing 12 young singers on that Saturday's telecast of the 1983 34th Annual Red and White Song Festival 紅白歌合戦 (held on NYE every year).

It was love at the first sight when my eyes landed on "July" and saw Akina's photo. I still remember it being one of her in a purple long sleeved blouse with a yellow headband beside a window (or something of that sort). I remembered my father watching the previous year's telecast and I fell asleep halfway, so I wondered why this captured me the way it did that day.

Being the eldest, I had the "power" to force my siblings to play the games I want to, so excitedly, I went home, spread the paper and asked them to each choose one. Interestingly, neither of us chose the same. My sister chose Yu Hayami (早見優), which is funny in hindsight because some of my friends compared her similarity in looks at a certain point in her life to Yu. My brother chose 柏原芳恵 for reasons unknown. I'd like to think it was because of her buxom appeal.

That Saturday, I sat down with Dad and watched the program from start to finish. Dad went to bed halfway but I waited and waited for Akina's performance. She was totally what I expected and not, at the same time. Underlying that sweet look was a deep voice I had never expected. She was different, in a good way.

I don't think the infatuation commenced immediately because I didn't rush out to get her cassettes or anything like that, but it did plant a seed, and when my older cousin passed me his copy of the 34届紅白歌合戦 mix-tape, there was no going back.

My infatuation with J-Pop commenced then. I had no idea what they were singing, and till today, it makes no difference. I love the infectious melodies and it was also the start of the J-Pop craze in Asia like how K-drama captured hearts a couple of years back. Everyone was wrapping their files with posters from HK magazines like Good Times (好时代) and New Times (新时代).

It was also then that I met Leslie and he jokingly blames me for his infatuation. I would like to say that though I did plant the seed, he definitely exceeded all expectations.

I come from a middle income family with a sole breadwinner. Times weren't bad, but we didn't have indulgences very often. A trip to MacDonalds was an indulgence for us. Dad worked hard and Mum did her part by taking work home to supplement the income. We were always taught to be frugal, and Mum was strict with the family budget and with us, but we were never denied anything that we truly wanted. She would tell us stories of her impoverished childhood and we loved them, even though that would mean that we would not get the new toy or something that we were going to ask for.

I can see how it was difficult for my parents financially at that time, to support us through school and made sure that we had a good life. My parents were strict, so that we would be better people when we grew up, always encouraging us to do better, all the time.

Many a times, growing up, I didn't always understand why I had to do all that. Leslie always had extra pocket money but I didn't. I was envious that he could buy anything that he desired while I had to compromise. To me, those were necessities in life, but not everyone understood. Only friends like Leslie and Terence did, but understanding didn't bring the goods.

Mum will say that the infatuation was my "downfall" because it led to my relative "ignorance" of my studies.  I never stopped my love for learning but it just transferred to another path - J-Pop instead of my textbooks. I pored over magazines at bookstores because I didn't have money to buy them. I read anything I could. I was hungry. Love is a mystery and the transition to teenage-hood is all but an easy path for me, a misfit of sorts. It was the start of my rebellious years ...

I was a pudgy boy in the early years of my teens. When others sprouted, I waited for mine which never really came. It was all just a gradual process for me. I tried sports, but didn't like it. I did it so that the "cool ones" would not tease me too much about it. I tried hard to fit in, but always felt like a fake waiting for someone to expose me.

Akina was my security blanket. Someone whom I could hide behind and be who I truly wanted to be. She created fantasies and dreams and made me believe that I can be who I want to be. Her music brought solace to my uncomfortable teenage years and inability to fit in with the general crowd. If I was termed a nerd, I might actually find another group, but I wasn't really one, so I was relatively alone. Except when I was with Leslie and Terence, who shared my passion for J-Pop.

It was also around this time when I wanted to know more about J-Pop that I finally discovered Familiar Music Library - my home and a home for many people like me. It was there that I met Zing, an influential person in my life. He opened my eyes to the world of music and taught me all I could never learn from books and magazines. He was my mentor of sorts. He was so cool to me, and he was my friend. When others in school would never cast a second eye, he lent out his hand. I don't know know what I would have done if I had not found Familiar Music Library and friends like Zing at that time. He made me believe that it was alright to have an infatuation.

This sparked the beginning of my rebellious years. I became the villain at home. Poor at studies and constantly having arguments with my Mum. I was no happy because I felt that all Mum cared about at that time was my studies, and not me. If she had shown some acceptance of my love, I wonder if my life would have turned out differently.

In hindsight, it was not really a rebellion because I didn't do too many hurtful things (at least not outside home), but myself finding my own voice within, and believing that I can love and be loved. I know I may have hurt my parents and my siblings, but I was trying to find myself, and not drown.

If I had the chance to rewrite this part of history and do it all over again, the only thing I would do is to cause my parents less pain, and the knowledge that what they truly wanted for me was to have options in my life, but I guess that is what life is all about. Learning from experiences. Falling down and getting up again.

I have spent much on J-Pop and Akina and some may say it's a waste, but the expense is nothing compared to the solace she and they provided. Akina is like a closest dear friend, always listening, singing to me my deepest thoughts (even when I have no idea what she is saying), and she's telling me "Everything is going to be alright ...".

Thank you Akina for some of the most beautiful moments of my life ... the anticipation, the exhilaration ... if only once, I can say I have truly lived.

Responsibility

Responsibility. Does anyone even recognise or use this word anymore? All day long at work, I am faced with differing requests and complaints, not only from students but also from adults (and parents), that someone else is responsible for their "failures". When will they realise that we all have a part to play.

I am currently reading this engrossing book "We Need To Talk About Kelvin" by Lionel Shriver (female author). The writing is beautiful, even poetic at times, and it is a book of letters, from a woman to her husband, trying to rediscover what went wrong, after their son goes to high school and kills 9 people one day.

She traces all the way back from when they first entertained the idea of children, to the fateful day Kelvin commits the shooting. Where did they go wrong? The writing is raw and harrowing, and Lionel has a real gift. What happens when a mother does not feel the motherly love when she holds her baby for the first time, and what happens when your child is evil in nature. Why is it that the mother always cops the blame? I am only halfway through the book and I am already questioning the judgment that we are quick to pass about parents.

One good example is how quickly we condemn the mother who leaves her child in the bathtub for 5 seconds to pick up the phone and comes back to discover that her child has drowned in two inches of water. Two inches. She could have been a great mother all this time, but we discount that. We only remember and judge her for the 5 seconds that she was away. As if to say that the loss of her child and her guilt is not enough to tie her down already.

As you can tell, I am loving and savouring this book. It is not difficult to empathise with the mother in the book, but let me reassure you that she is flawed, and she is real. The book paints the father as a doting parent, the perfect child loving adult with a blind spot. It really makes me appreciate the responsibility that parents take on.

Does this responsibility towards our children blind us to the point of protection that we will blame anyone or everyone than our own child for something that they had committed. Are we teaching them the right thing by shielding them and reaffirming their perfection? When and how do we teach responsibility. Will this world be a better place to live if we all took some responsibility instead of trying to find excuses and place the blame on others?

I 'm Back and More Coming Soon ...

I am so sorry for the lack of posts recently. I have been back for a week and a half from the trip of my lifetime, but I have not been feeling very well.

It was probably due to my hectic schedule and exercise routine that I kept up during the four week Europe trip, and then not letting nature takes its course by allowing my body to experience the jet lag . Instead, I continued to punish my body further by insisting on keeping the same schedule as my family in Singapore.

I didn't have much of a choice because my stay in Singapore was relatively short (ten days) as compared to the past trips and I feel so guilty about spending so much time away from them, and I do miss them as well. So, I tried to do as much as I can, and I believe that when I finally arrived back in Sydney and went straight back to work in an hour, my body raised the white flag and protested.

Still, there are no regrets at all (if any, it was still too short - especially the Singapore leg), and I had the time of my life.

I have yet to post much photos (except on Facebook) but I want to do proper entries on my blog, because all the memories are still fresh, both as a memorial piece and an update of my wonderful trip.

I have finally finished the bulk of work which I have a deadline at the end of this month, so I am able to steal some time off work to do some blog entries and organise my photos on the web. I was initially thinking of using Flickr again but its not very user-friendly, so I thought of Picasa web albums but the irritating thing is that the software insists on changing all your photos on your computer to the Picasa album, and that takes so much time.

Does anyone have any suggestions?

My Father

It seems fitting that I should pen my tribute to my father on the upcoming Father's Day celebration in Australia.

If there was a job that everyone was destined in life, then my father's would be a dad. He is what one could call a 24 hour Dad, never tiring of the role that he was born to play. My father wasn't there in the hospital when I was born. I learned it from a letter that my Aunt Alice wrote to him when he was working in Germany. I chanced upon the letter via incident more than ten years ago and have never been able to locate it since. One of those unsolved mysteries ...

The letter was written by my aunt because the common language between my parents was Cantonese and my Dad would not been able to read the Mandarin characters, so it seemed fit that my aunt would be the one to write. The basic premise of the letter is to announce my birth and my adoption of his unofficial Christian name, James. I do not know why my aunt chose my father's name for me. I guess it could be a way to honour my father's best characteristics most significantly, his integrity. I certainly hope I lived up to that expectation.

Unlike my mother who would share stories of her childhood and youth, my father was a relatively reserved man. We knew that he came from a polygamous family, and somehow I was always under the impression that his father did not feature significantly in his life. I had imagined that it was his father's relative absence that inspired him to be involved in all aspects of our lives. I later realised through my aunt (his sister) that it was not true.

I know that there are many untold stories of my father's childhood that I wish to hear, to know what my dad was like as a child and a young man. To see the similarities or differences we share I also know that I will be the one who will have to take the initiative to dig them out, so I am hoping that this will help ease the first lines of communication.

Growing up, my father was a kind and loving disciplinarian. He played good parent while my mother played Ms Hyde most of the time. Together, they would try their individual best to instill the best values and knowledge, probably due to lost opportunities of their own life. They were very strict, insisting that we place studies above all else, so that we would end up being independent and dependable adults.

Every night, he would tuck us into bed, asking us if we loved him, which can be a little embarrassing at times, but thinking back now, it can be rather sweet too. As I mentioned before, my parents never shied from showing affection, and I can remember the day still that I told him not to hug me in public anymore. It must have hurt, but that is the impulsiveness of youth.

He also had his unique way of instilling his values in us. Besides showing his affection for us, he would make us promise since young that we would:

(a) never smoke
(b) never take drugs
(c) never gamble

It has proven to be really effective because I can still hear from his voice right now as I am typing. My mischievous little brother would sometimes try to get his way when he lost, by shouting to Dad, "Daddy, big brother is smoking" and Dad would storm into the room, and say "Is that true, James?". Such an insignificant but fond memory.

Dad was also rather good at mathematics, so he would sit us all down at the kitchen table every night when I started primary school and go through all our English and Mathematics homework. However, since he was not a teacher, there was only a limit to what he could impart. I remembered failing a Mathematics paper when I was in Year 3, and since I miraculously topped the class for the first (and last time) after the mid semester, my teacher wanted to know what happened. I told her eventually that my father didn't know enough about algebra then to teach me. I can't remember what happened after that, but in some ways, I probably knew that I was going to have to do it on my own from then on.

The other fond and significant recollection that I have is my Dad buying the entire collection (or the remainder) of the Secret Seven series that I lacked. All thirteen or so copies of it from the third book onwards. I knew that we were not rich because we rarely ate out, and we had to help Mum with the sewing as well, so I was astonished when he bought them all at MPH. I can still vaguely remember how proud I was when Dad brought them all to the counter and paid for them. That was his grand love for me.

The other reason why this stood out was because it was also the day that my grandparents moved to their new and eventual home in Ang Mo Kio. We visited them that afternoon immediately after the shop and someone spilled Fanta Orange all over some of the books. I can remember my anger and disappointment then, but nothing could rob me of the joys of owning the entire set, which I still own at home.

During my teenage years, I started to rebel at home. I had a "violent temper", one that Mum was quick to point as a flaw I shared with Dad. My results at school would deteriorate because I found it difficult to adapt to my teenage years as a "nerd" and misfit. I was plump and not as agile or sports oriented as my other fellow students. The only sport I was good at was swimming because Dad paid for lessons, but we never had swimming lessons at School, so I never had a chance to prove myself.

I feared Parents Day because I knew that I had let them down again but there was no way to get out of it. My only asylum was Japanese music, which my mother had no empathy at that time for, because she thought it was a hindrance to my performance at School. She was not entirely wrong. However, the more she objected, the more I rebelled.

Dad shocked me after one Parents Day though when he brought me out, after my teacher's less than favourable review, and bought me the most expensive watch I had ever owned. Even till now, I have no idea why he did it. I can only guess it is a way to motivate me to do better, but I didn't. I was lost.

I guess I didn't find myself until I left secondary school and realised how badly I had done in my "O" Levels, which left me little opportunities in life. I also worked for the first time in my life, lost some weight and gained some self confidence because I realised that I was a relatively fast learner and could adapt to changing demands rather fluidly. It was probably then
that life started making some sense for me.

Dad was an engineer, so in some ways, he probably wanted my brother and I to walk the same path as him. Alas, it was not my calling, but I managed to persevere and graduate with a Diploma in Mechanical Engineering. I made many good friends at Ngee Ann Polytechnic, sadly many of whom I had lost contact with. Thankfully, I found one of my best friends last year incidentally, and though the lines of communication are still rather irregular, we will never lose the bonds of friendship we held.

Dad's love for his children is never more pronounced when I started my two and a half year compulsory Army service after that. Unlike my fellow camp-mates, I was one of the only few that was picked up every Saturday afternoon and driven back every Sunday night by their parents. He never faltered once. It seemed that he would give up all other engagements so that he could be there.

It can get potentially a little embarrassing at times because I didn't want to be seen as being pampered, but strangely, the Army does strange things to immature minds. The absence from home and familial love makes one treasure the bonds of kinship more than ever. I was seen as the lucky one and I never took my parents' love for granted from then on. He is always keen to share his generosity, so my neighbouring friends benefited from the lift as well.

It is always interesting to see my father in the eyes of his friends, because that is the real him, not the familiar role of a father he adopts in our lives. There is an air of authority, integrity and respect that he garners and I can see that vividly in the eyes of his friends. He is usually silent, squirms a little under the praise of his friends, and I see and feel the strong and loyal man/friend they say he is.

He is a worker, not a talker. Through my aunt, I have learned more about my father than I could ever know, because he would never brag. I admire his courage and strength. When my grandma was on her death bed and the doctor wanted the family to make a decision to amputate her legs, it was left to him. The eldest son assigned by his mother and two younger siblings to make the most difficult decision one could ever want to be responsible for. I can not for my life, imagine how one would not crumble at this point in life, but knowing my father, he probably took it as a life decision that had to be made. I wasn't there, so I don't know if he ever wept, but knowing him, he probably did not do it in public.

When my aunt flew back from Australia to attend my grandmother's funeral, it was in the middle of our university Summer Term, and my father told us that our studies were more important, and how she would understand. After my aunt returned, she told us about her half siblings that she was surprised to see at the funeral. They had lost contact for a very long time and since my grandma bore some old grudge against my grandpa's other wives, the relationship has never been warm. So, when they arrived and adopted the deceased 's children identity (it is Taoist tradition that the more children you have, the more glorious you will look in the other world), my aunt was even more surprised. She engaged into lengthy conversations with them, and learned that the reason for them taking this duty was to return the favour my father gave to their mother a couple of years ago. No one in his family knew about it. Since he acknowledged their mother then, it was their turn to acknowledge his. I was moved to tears. I know my aunt was so proud of her brother then.

My father is a very kind man who loves children. I see it whenever I see him play with my nephew and niece. I see shades of my father as a young dad again. I have to say that he was a little surprised when I hugged him for the first time in years when I returned to Singapore from Australia, because he probably thought he would never get that back again. It is good that I am able to hug him now when I arrive back in Singapore and leave, or whenever I want to. I am also happy that we can tell each other that we love each other very much too.

Compared with many other friends and stories of upbringing I have read and heard, I think that though my childhood was relatively sheltered, we have been very lucky to be loved by two wonderful parents who always put us in the first place. We were not rich, couldn't afford as many luxuries, rarely ate out (McDonalds was considered a relative luxury), or went overseas for holidays, I still believe my parents came out tops, and there is not a thing I would change, except if I could have been more mature earlier in my age.

I want to thank my wonderful parents, for the love, patience, care, concern and support they have always provided us. My sister has been ushering me to write this because she says "He is just the best Dad in the world", and it is entirely true. My only wish now is to be able to learn more about the man I lovingly call my father.

I do not know if we make you both proud, but I hope we do. We may not be great achievers in life if you measure things via monetary means, but life is more than that. It is about love, relationships and respect. These wonderful loving lessons that we learned from the best teachers in the world, and in this aspect, we can proudly declare "Thank you for the rich lessons of love and life." We love you both very dearly.

N.E.R.D.

Interestingly, the definition on dictionary.com for nerd reads:

1.	a stupid, irritating, ineffectual, or unattractive person.

2.	an intelligent but single-minded person obsessed with a nonsocial hobby or pursuit: a computer nerd.

I would like to think that I do not fall into the first category but beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, so who knows. This thought came about due to a conversation I had with a fellow colleague where we remarked at the "impossibility" of growing up in our old days with the internet and all these technology that we take for granted today.

Since I was not "built for sports" while I was growing up (read: plump and pudgy), I preferred the more leisurely activities like reading and listening to music, the former which I did plenty of. My parents had always advocated reading since young, so we were always brought to libraries and bought books instead of toys.

I also remember when I was first allowed to go out and venture on my own at the age of 13, and how I was given the "green light" to go to the library with my backpack and borrow books for my siblings and I. There was no electronic card system and I had to make sure I had the paper borrowing cards with me so that I wouldn't go home empty handed. I also had to pick ten books for all of us and carry them all back. I wonder now how I managed to pick the books for them as well because there was no guarantee that they would all be good, but I did alright, I guess.

One of my favourite past-times during school holidays was also spending the entire day (at least 5-6 hours) holed up in the reference section of the National Library. The wonderful archive of books and music, most unavailable or unwrapped in bookstores, and mostly unaffordable for a student like me.

I loved spending all that time there reading all the trivia, listening to the CDs that I would never buy or afford to buy and watch the movies that I do not have access to. It was the pleasure of reading for the sake of having fun, and not having to be tested on the material afterwards.

So yes, by this definition, I was indeed a nerd. Today, with the internet so readily available, I rarely spend as much time or visit the library as often anymore, and thinking back, I do miss those days very much. I still crave the trivia and knowledge but I manage to get that online. However, this ease of accessibility and availability makes me realise how much more transient the experience is, as opposed to those days when I just soaked in it. No longer immersed in my own world, with no one to disturb and without a bother in the world.

I wonder if we will ever return to such indulgences? It is a test that I will have to experience and tell ...

Such is Life

I just finished watching the sombre film "My Life Without Me", a small indie movie that I like very much. As the name suggests, the movie explores what we might do if we realise that we only have a very limited time left on Earth. Not everyone is as lucky to get notice, because for some of us, it will just come very suddenly, with little or no warning.

After this, I browsed through my fellow friend's blog and read about a sudden death of his friend, someone that he used to keep in touch during his school days even though he was his senior, but had sort of lost close contact with since. News of death is always so difficult to accept, especially when it is someone who used to be close, but as a result of time, distanced ourselves not of choice, but because of life.

I had a friend like that too. He was in his 50s, still too young to leave us. He taught me much, lessons that I still cherish till today. Even now when I feel low on creativity and inspiration, his voice of encouragement still rings in my ear. He was a teacher when I stepped out here and lived on my own for the first time. I remember his generosity when I moved onto my first apartment with my other housemates. We had no cutlery, crockery, plates, little things that cost plenty of money, and he was like coal in Winter, helping us create our first home out of nothing.

He always had so many stories to tell, and an eager ear to listen as well, always ready to give credit and the encouragement when due. I realised at his funeral that I was not alone. Many other people were touched in the same way. Through his encouragement, I organised my first and only Halloween Party to date, my only cooking party and inspired us with his marvellous cooking, to always go for the best. He also helped me with my one and only attempt at proper dessert making - Crème brûlée with a chocolate mousse topping, an old French recipe from the oldest French Cooking Book, which he swore by. Like the song "MacArthur's Park", the recipe is now gone forever with his departure.

He had his idiosyncrasies as well, but those just made chatting with him more interesting and challenging at the same time. He may be difficult to some but he was always kind to me and many others. It has been 2 years since he left, but the memories still lay fresh on the days when I brush by a familiar scene, and the scenes of laughter and friendship we shared replay.

This is the beauty and the fragility of life. We may not live forever but we leave impressions on the footpaths of other's lives. I will always miss you, Jack, and the other people I have lost, but the traces of all of you will always grace the pathways of my life as long as I should live.

Happy

I guess one can't ask for much more than a state of happiness.

Though there are many things that I may not have, still in my life, but I am contented with my current life goings. The reason for my lack of blogging recently is because of my busier work schedule, where I was trying to clear all my work before I embark on my holidays, which I am currently at. I don't like to bother others, so I wanted to make sure that I cleared the major work that I was meant to complete before I come back from my holidays, and I was elated that it all worked out in the end.

On my relationship front, things are going really well with John, and he has just capped off an amazing year of studies in two courses with distinctions in the end. I am really proud of him and he has really showed me a great example of how I should enrich my life with more fulfilling matters in the year to come. I will possibly be looking into a counseling course and finally do something more with my lifelong desire to speak Japanese fluently. I will definitely be looking into some singing lessons as well so that I don't massacre the cows when I open up my mouth. Ha! Ha!

I am also really fortunate to have a really wonderful and supportive group of friends, in Australia and in Singapore. It is so gratifying to know that all the years of hard work that I put into building and maintaining relationships have bore fruit and people still remember me for who I am. I wish that they would have moved on together with me, but it is more difficult to do with some than others. I don't have too many complaints at the moment, but I will definitely be seeking more frank and honest conversations with them about more important issues than just trivial goings, to improve the quality of our relationships.

On my family front, I am doing my best to do my part as a dutiful son, brother and uncle, and it has been a joy to feel so loved and pampered by everyone. It is no secret of my love for children, so it is absolutely wonderful to be "mobbed" by the two of them, and them taking turns to be frank and honest about demanding for attention and fighting for affection. If only, we don't lose these traits as we tailor our behaviour to life as we grow older. Will the world be a better place?

I am also working on trying to have a deeper relationship with my parents and getting to know them as people rather than two people who brought me up. It is not easy because it is normal for them to lapse into their daily roles, but I will try my best.

So, here I am, on my holidays, reflecting on the previous year and the coming, and putting into action the promises I have made to myself, in my voyage of life discovery and relationship building. Happy is a state of being contented with the mundane things in life that we take for granted, and I am thankful for all for that.

10th Anniversary - 愛の詩 -

It's not the kind of anniversary that one celebrates. Today marks the tenth anniversary of my beloved grandmother's departure from Beautiful Earth. Death was recently discussed in one of my Mens Group's conversations and many people were afraid that we will forget our loved ones once they depart. It has been ten years and I dare say that the love has and will always be there. If someone made an everlasting impression, then their memory will live with us forever.

Reflecting back on these past ten years, where I first made the move from Singapore to Australia in February 1998, I can honestly say that I was leaving some form of my past behind, and looking forward to my new life. Perhaps my grandmother's departure, devastating as it was to me, was a key for me to discover myself, and learn to love myself.

Growing up, I suffered from low self esteem, but always prided that if there was no one else in the world who'd love me, my grandmother still would. She was the epitome of love and kindness and she taught us wonderful lessons on giving, many that still serve us very well today in every aspect of our life. She may not have a worldly education but she knew life and love, and that was not something that can be taught. She gave and gave, even when times were tough, she never failed to look after others that were poorer than she was.

I believe that she must have her demons too, especially at the end when life took her speech away from her, leaving her frustrated at her inability to communicate. This was especially painful for her and for us to watch, a lively and loving woman disintegrating in front of us. But that is not the memory I want to hold of her. I want to remember her for the funny and loving woman she is.

There are many times when I reflect on the wonderful days we spent together. I can vaguely remember her giving me Milo at the end of every night when I just turned one, and grandpa slipping me the occasional Kopi-O (black coffee). How she would hold my little hand while we walked to the markets and took the trishaw back. How I stared with my childish eyes at the lollies and toys in the convenience store at the corner. My squeals of laugher on the swing, her gorgeous cooking, up to the threats of no longer loving me if I didn't take the money that she slipped into my pants whenever we are about to leave. The sight of her peering out of the window as Dad's car drives by, and the enormous laughter that she would initiate with every fart she let out.

These are the memories, and they are still fresh in my head. With every recollection, I love and miss her even more. The only solace I can take is that she is probably up there in Heaven with Grandpa staring down and watching us, with a remote control to more channels of life than there is down here on Earth.

I want to glorify her love and her teachings. I want everyone who has never met her, especially her great grandchildren to know what a wonderful grandmother we all had. We were blessed with such great and loving grandparents, equipped with the best tools, passing on the important lessons of life, sculpturing us into the current beings we are.

What will the next ten years be like, I do not need to wonder, because I know that I will still be holding, loving and remembering her from the deepest part of my heart, till the day arrives when it no longer beats ...

转眼十年已逝，对您的怀念依然如一，
希望能凝视入水晶球，看一看您是否幸福，
想像您俩一样现在依然守护与指引我们。

您快乐吗？
我们现在是否还是那么让您感到骄傲？

十年了，改变的只是我们成长过程的点点滴滴，
您慈祥与爱的指导，依然还是我们人生旅途中的必需品。
希望在我们有生之年，能把您教导的一切传达给我们的下一代。

十年后，对您的思念相信也不会改变太多，
因为深爱不易变，只要心中有爱，就永远有着您的踪影。

Virgin Dental

Do you remember your first dental visit? Mine was probably not till I was 7 or 8 years old, when I started Primary One. Our school had a special dentist, and every few weeks, some stranger from another class will pop in with some A3 sized yellow cards, and read out the names of the lucky ones.

I don't exactly recall the visit, but I do remember not liking it very much because I didn't look forward to those visits. I also remember the class cheering the names of the students who were called up, and I guess that is a omen that it wasn't a good thing. At that time around 1978, we still didn't have much advanced technology, so it hurt much more than what we have nowadays. Still, it is never a pleasant experience.

Tomorrow, my little 5 year old niece will be having major dental surgery (believe it or not!) with one tooth extraction and four crowns. It started with some toothache, and a visit to the dentist revealed that there were some serious issues that needed to be referred to a paediatrician, because she was gagging at the smell of the latex gloves, and they couldn't get her to open her mouth long enough.

I was a little skeptical with Mum's explanation of how it got so bad. She said that it's got to do with her sucking on the milk bottle for a prolonged time and the buildup of milk powder, which is really sweet, at the back of her tooth. I thought it a little incredulous but since I wasn't an expert, I couldn't comment further. What I do know is that my Mum and sister restricts the amount of lollies and sugary drinks they have, so I knew it didn't have much to do with the amount of sweets she was having. Mum has this "5 minute" lollipop game that she plays with them, which is allowing them only 5 minutes (or her definition of that) with the lollipop, and then re-wrapping them and storing them in the fridge for the next day. Yes, my mother does have her little idiosyncrasies, but I guess I didn't turn out too bad.

I didn't know that this is such a phenomenon nowadays until my Aussie friend told me yesterday that it is quite common and it was also reported on a special news program recently. I really pity Joy having to go through such a trauma this young, but they are putting her on general, so she will probably not feel a thing. I guess one of the worst things is that the operation is going to cost around $3000, on top of the pain she is feeling now, and probably for a few days after. Not looking forward to that. Poor girl ...

Long Days Journey Into Night

Last Saturday, we drove up to Newcastle, approximately two and a half hours north of Sydney, where John's mother, sister and family resides. It has been a couple of months since John had last seen Pat, and has missed her. Since Saturday was his niece, Chelsea's 15th birthday, we thought it would be a good idea to "kill two birds with one stone".

We had an absolutely glorious day and the weather agreed with us, delivering us a warm lovely Spring day. We usually stay over the weekend because five hours of driving is sometimes too much to handle for one day. I'm not particularly keen on driving but will do so if pressed. On this occasion, I was happy I wasn't. We left Newcastle at around 6.45 pm, and as we were about an hour and a half on the F3 highway, and about one exit before the one that we were meant to get off, John asked if I heard this strange noise emitting from the car.

I stopped my iPod which was transmitting on the car stereo and listened hard. There was indeed something flapping but we could pinpoint where exactly it was coming from. We started descending and the noise stopped, so we dismissed it. As the road flattened again, it came back and just when I was about to make a wild guess and suggest that we stop, John yelled "The car is flat. It's not going anywhere." Puzzled because we were still moving, I realised that the dashboard was no longer lit. The car was still moving probably because we have not slowed to a stop.

I quickly suggested that we steer the car to the left shoulder, which John quickly agreed it was a good idea. We sat in the car for a muted five to ten seconds, and John said that it was probably safer that we stayed outside the car. "Good idea", I thought because you never know what could hit the car when everyone is zooming past at speeds past 110 km/h. It was slightly scary, not only because we were partly stranded on the shoulder of the highway, but more so because everyone was moving so fast. The cold winds did not help as well, and as John tried to make out our exact location to tell the NRMA (car repairmen), I clutched my jacket closer to myself as I helplessly watched the lonely headlights of the cars in solitude.

John soon came back that they were prioritizing our case (good idea) because it's not like we could go back into someone's house or reside on a cafe waiting for them to arrive. The estimate was set at around an hour for them to arrive. What are we going to do to kill time? John started looking a little stressed because he was tired and we really didn't need this extra drama. Figuring out that there was no way I could find out the problem, I tried to cheer him up a little by suggesting that this was our "Long Days Journey Into Night" because I have the tendency to try to look on the bright side of everything.

We tried to think of how things could have gone wrong, and John tried to restart the car again a few times, braving the traffic, that looked at times ready to swallow anyone who took a wrong step. Then, in the dark, a four wheel drive stopped, and out stepped someone with a baseball cap on. Cautious, I clutched on my bag and moved it out of sight. One can never be too careful and this is too dark. He started asking us if we needed help. He sounded nice and helpful but I didn't trust him because I couldn't see his face or his eyes, which is such an important feature, I believe.

He turned out to be a car electrician and knew a little about cars. He opened the bonnet, sniffed and sensed that something smelled "cooked". We nodded in unison, waiting for a miracle. He made a few kind suggestions and we tried them all, but to no avail. He eventually said that since we had a repairman coming, he would not touch the car any further. We thanked him for his help and he revealed that he stopped also because he was racing someone, and thought he should stop too. Helping someone was his excuse to himself to stop participating in that dangerous behaviour.

Fair enough. He was still kind enough to stop and help, and we were really grateful. It wasn't until he left that John and I heaved a sigh of relief. Embarrassed, I confessed to John that the first thing that came to mind when he stepped out of the car was "Wolf Creek". I have not even seen the movie, but one does not have to watch it to know the theme - serial killer picks up backpackers hitching a ride and slaughters them. Okay, it was a little too melodramatic, but I couldn't be sure. There was no guarantee that he wasn't going to pull out a knife, and ask us to part with our belongings. Who's going to hear us then? What is really sad is that we have become so cynical and cautious in this world that we anticipate fear first rather than kindness, and we are more shocked when we are encountered by a good deed doer. It was rather similar that the incident that I was so angry about a couple of months back, but I guess that this situation is a lot more different.

The repairman finally arrived about 15 minutes after that. We were bored by then and tried thinking of the worst. What if he leaves us here and we have to wait for a tow truck? Which of our friends would we trouble to come pick us up if this was what it came down to? Thankfully, we had friends who were happy to save two damsels in distress if we needed, and fortunately, we didn't need it. The battery had died but after the repairman jump started the car, we were able to follow him into the nearest gas station, and wait for the replacement battery to arrive.

It was much nicer to be safe, away from the bustle of the zooming cars, and come to think of it, we were very lucky that we were near an exit and the highway was brightly lit. I would shiver to think if we were stranded on the darker stretches. I don't think we would have survived as well. The battery finally arrived about 45 minutes to an hour later and in the midst of waiting for it, we realised that the radiator had been drained as well. We topped it up and came to the conclusion that it was what ultimately caused the battery to fail.

Thankfully, the drive home was smooth but after we stepped out of the car, we noticed fuming from the front, and it was not a good sign. The radiator was leaking and that posed another potential problem to be fixed. The car is now fixed but what a night this has turned out to be.

Myself - 自我 -

I believe I have mentioned it before that I am currently in a Mens' Group. It was set up as an avenue for men in safe (confidential) environment to discuss freely about the matters of their hearts. Initially I thought that I wouldn't have too much need for this because I pour out my heart on my blog and my friends, but recently, I found that I am really enjoying it because we are exploring deeper into who we are as human beings, which are really interesting topics.

One of the most interesting points that stayed with me previously was that "It is always easier to talk about someone else than us". I think part of this is because I have been brought up to think that I would be too conceited if I just blabbered about myself incessantly all the time, and rarely in daily conversations, do we explore the myriad of feelings and emotions that we experience with various incidents. It is always easier to just describe the events and ignore the impact on us when it is obviously what caused us to talk about it in the first place. It is easier to curse the situation, person than share our experience and effects because it does not make for interesting gossip for most people. It helps to connect people but we are more used to conventional water cooler topics than revelations that could move. Are we just more shallow when it comes to having such conversations with friends or do we just not try hard enough?

I am lucky to have friends outside the Mens' group that I can do so, but I am also acutely aware that not everyone might be comfortable sharing such intimate information, but are we ready for it when someone takes the first step? Would this world be a more beautiful place if we share our real selves and everyone listened without prejudice and judgment, like in these artificial environment nurtured by the groups.

Another fascinating discovery over our last meeting for me was "When in a relationship, when it is okay to put ourselves in the first place?". Being the only gay man in the group, I think I don't have to feel like I am the breadwinner or the protector of the relationship, but I was seriously thinking about how many of us, including myself, do not put ourselves in the first place. I don't know if it is my insecurity that if I don't constantly give, that I will not receive the love back, or just that because the true joys is more in the giving, that I always believe in putting myself below other's needs most of the time. But if I don't, I am reminded that the world will not collapse and I will not die.

One important thing that came to mind is my determination to visit my family and spend at least two weeks with them a year because of their love for me. It is their love for me that allows me to stay in Sydney and this is one of the only ways I can repay them for their generosity. Since we only have about a month's leave a year, this does not afford me another opportunity for another long holiday with John both financially and time wise. One of the other things that someone shared reminded me that John and I have a family of our own and our little traditions that we will plan and live, and it is sometimes that I have not given too much thought of in the past, but I thought completely true and sweet.

It is the second time I heard that "I will not die if I don't go to Singapore for one year", which is true but the fact is that I do miss my family terribly and thankfully, John is totally empathetic. He told me that he wouldn't like to imagine being able to see his Mum only once or twice a year. However, I am acutely aware of our own need for a holiday, so I sometimes struggle to strike a balance to keep everyone happy. But am I?

I love my family and I love John very much. It isn't easy but I guess I have to find better ways to strike this balance and how I can do this both because as much as I would love to travel, would someone understand the pain of not being able to see and share their love with their families as often as possible? I can only do what I can, but I am happy when everyone is, and the price of seeing my family happy makes my yearly visit to Singapore fruitful. That said, I would like to give this new hypothesis a try by visiting Paris and parts of Europe with John next year.

A final issue that emerged, which John has constantly reminded me and was brought up, was my relationship with my father. My father is not the typical Asian father one would associate with. Growing up with a father who practised polygamy, he never had a 24 hour full time dad that he could live with. He had to share him with two other families and many other foster siblings. I can't expand more because he is fiercely private about his childhood, and hasn't shared much as compared to my mother, so I only knew snippets from my Mum or aunt. His views on fatherhood was probably shaped by his own experience, and hence he set out to be the best father he can be, and he has succeeded. Instead of taking a cold authoritarian approach, he was kind but firm, and never shied away from displaying affection, like kisses or hugs whenever he can.

He helped us in all our decisions (and probably made most of them - Ha! Ha!), and I know I am admired by some of my friends for having such a loving and dutiful father. I have learnt to appreciate his love more as I grow older because he has proved to be a very positive role model but transition from father to friend has been a little tougher. It isn't easy all the time when he has told us before that we will always be his little children no matter how old we are. I don't think this is a reflection that he wants to be the patriarch, but that he will always want to provide us with whatever we lack in life, and be a parent and friend at the same time (which is what he told us when we were young), but I noticed that we seem to have difficulties in discussing about certain life issues like adults, because I don't think he sees me as one sometimes.

John laments that our conversations are relegated to the "Yes-No" simplicity and he constantly reminds me of our short time on Earth, but I find it difficult to break the mould over the phone. Listening to one of my friends who is a father himself to six grown children, he says that he yearns for his children to know him, not as a father, but also as a contributor to this world, a human being in all. I am most inspired by this and know that I will seek to learn about my own father in my next visit. I am also eager to explore deeper relationships with my closer ones in my life as I get more comfortable in my own skin. I have known for a long time that we have to be open before we can move others to open to us as well, but I have never really done too much of that with my own family. I think my family would like to know me as a person and I think they should be proud of who I am.

I know now that it is not conceit but vital for me to talk about myself sometimes, and for me to place myself and my needs first because then I will be a more balanced human being. In being so, I am possibly open up new windows within myself that may delight others in the process as well.

Better Safe Than Sorry?

Thanks to everyone who commented on my previous post, which seemed to be quite a "hot topic", my dear friend from Canada wrote me a rather passionate letter warning me about the potential dangers of just being who I want to be, which seemed to be the reflection of thoughts from some of you.

He was unable to post a comment because he probably didn't have a gmail account, but this is what he wrote:

Some people wrote to you to say that you should not be concerned if your conscience is clear and you are simply doing what is good. Sorry, I disagree with them. Who is going to back you up if no one is looking and if you had not planned ahead of time. From experience I can tell you that most people prefer to remain "uninvolved" and out of any kind of controversy. Truly, you want to help those in need but you also want to protect yourself.

One of my friends was sentenced to time in minimum security prison because he felt sorry for someone, tried to help them and was accused of sexual misconduct. I know the guy, know how he tries to help everyone and also that he would not have committed sexual misconduct because this was a woman accusing him and he is gay. Any way, I was not present so could not vouch for him and others would not get involved. The only thing I could to to help was visit him in prison. Now he is out but always has someone with him when he is helping anyone out. One of my other friends was accused of misconduct but I was actually there and able to defend them against those who were accusing him. There are a number of other examples I could speak of but my main point is that you have to be careful, regardless of your intentions. Intentions only get a person so far so, please don't be naive enough to think that a clear conscience is protection for accusations. Keep in mind that I am speaking not of just sexual misconduct; physical abuse, emotional abuse, are also accusations that people are having to face. I am not suggesting that a person live alone in a cave, just that they be careful to protect themselves from unjust accusations.

I am really thankful to Makary for bringing this to my and now everyone's attention. I totally believe that there are such true cases in life, because the society does certain communities of people who are perceived to be more vulnerable. If a woman that I am helping suddenly accuses me of sexual assault even though I am innocent, and no one is around to witness, who would the judge believe?

My dilemma though now is when to help or do we just stand by and watch it all happen? There is a current case in Australia where a Muslim was jailed in suspicion of assisting in the foiled London bombings recently and was held with no actual charge of about a month. The Australian Federal police and government claimed that they had proof that his mobile SIM card was found in his cousin's car that exploded. It was since discovered that it was a lie, and the SIM card was about 300 km away. This is the first case that tests the new Australian anti-terrorism laws and now that this debacle has put these laws into the spotlight, the prime minister is saying that "When it comes to terrorism, it is always better to be safe than sorry."

I know that this is not entirely linked, but it does reflect the fear that we possess for our fellow beings, and it is our leaders who helped shape the attitudes of the world. What messages do I, as an adult, want to pass down to my younger generation, in particular, my nephew and niece? When it comes to helping others, is it really better to be safe than sorry, or does it only restrict to us, as single men? What can we do to change the impressions of the world?

Parenting

Saw this ad yesterday morning on the sign board in front of one of the schools, not far away from my office and I must say it is rather strange but refreshing. I snapped the photo and immediately shared with the rest of the girls in my office. "It has moved" came one response. Puzzled I questioned, and it appears so that it used to be pinned to the back of the doors in the ladies restroom and it has now been "promoted" to an official notice board.

We had a small discussion and wondered if the description of appearance referred to the desired mother or the actual childbearer. Cynical as always, we came to the conclusion that she probably wanted a white baby, and this was the most politically correct way to place definitions.

John and I had always thought of having a child of ours, but it is not as if we could advertise like this. Firstly, it wouldn't work because none of us possess a womb, and secondly Australia prohibits any gay adoption. Not surprising, because they seem to always pick up reports that support their hypothesis that "Gay parents will always rear gay children". What they don't understand or the point that they seem to miss that most of our parents (of gay children) are actual heterosexual identifying, and we all had a very normal heterosexual upbringing, and since gay marriage and parenting is such a "New Age" phenomenon, where do they get their statistics from.

The other thing I find it ridiculous that they object to gay parenting/adopting is the belief that we will be bad parents. Did it ever cross their minds that this is a choice that we actually make. We can have sex as much as we want and never once will ever run the risk of being pregnant, so do they think that we are pushed into being parents like people who are knocked up after a one night stand. We understand the incredible responsibilities, and our desire to have a child is not the result of a one night consequence. Like women in the workforce with all eyes watching, mouths and minds ready to make a criticism and condemn us forever, don't you think we will work twice, thrice, a million times as hard to make sure that we do not fault?

My dear friend Joe looks at his partner and I when we play with our friend's twins that it is such a pity that we will never have children of our own. I know we lament that ourselves, and though John is a willing partner, he won't even entertain the thought as long as I am not out to my parents. It is a difficult decision, to have or not to have. At the moment, I am happy just to spend time with babies and then giving them back, but I always wonder what kind of a parent I would make. Will I suffocate the child with my love? Will I be a good parent that is loving and supportive regardless of the life choices my child eventually wants to make? See that I have the same insecurities as every parent?

I can take on more babysitting responsibilities and that might help to satisfy my needs for a while, but for every heterosexual and homosexual couple out there who yearn to have a child, I understand the need for someone to share our love with, just like heterosexual couples who are lucky to have children do. We are built for love, and I can only hope that the world will understand us someday, that love will breed love, not just homosexual or heterosexual, but happy children and human beings.

Getting Back My Life

The last month is undoubtedly one of the most stressful periods of my life. I can't remember the last time I was this challenged. I guess it is not surprising since Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs places "Physiological Needs" at the bottom of the pyramid, making the first need that humans will look to satisfy before their higher level needs will be addressed. Shelter is one of these physiological needs and a place to call home definitely falls under that category.

The move happened on the Friday before the horrible floods hit NSW. We were lucky to get most out of the way before the thunderstorms hit and we were both exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. Thanks to my perseverance, we cleared all boxes within 36 hours. I was the box Nazi, clearing my stuff and then starting on John's. My strategy was to empty his boxes and place the stuff on the table, so that he has no choice but to clear them. It worked.

For me, it was like a strange form of a cleansing and re-energising ceremony. Getting rid of all evidence of the horrible month and settling back into our life. What I didn't anticipate was the settling down period. Unlike the last time where the transition was immediate, it took a few restless nights and another week or so of feeling locked out of my own skin before I could finally grab hold of my life rails once again. John was very supportive after the first week of our move while I calmed down, and then after I recovered, it was his turn.

It was nice that we both took turns to go crazy while the other supported. It really helped to strengthen our relationship and our love for each other, which was one of the best things that came out of this incident. Now that I have had a couple of normal weekends to myself, I am starting to recall what it felt like before my life was consumed with looking for a new place to live or buy. It's such a bliss not to have to worry and just enjoying what the next moment might bring.