i still miss you...

it's been exactly a year from the day you've been gone. we may have moved on, the pain has since subsided. but things will never be the same. without your unbridled laughters, your endearing sarcastic remarks, those plot summaries you would always give me after a night of korean drama vcd marathon, the numerous rounds of street fights we fought on the super nintendo, your bitchings on that certain vegatable vendor who simply refused to give you that $0.20 discount and so much more, the house just feels so empty. having lived away from home for the greater part of the past year, there's always this lingering thought that somehow you would be there at home waiting for me. there's so much more i would have loved to share with you. my first girlfriend, my first championship win, my convocation, my first job, my marriage, the birth of my first kid...but all i can do now, is only to hold on to my memories of you, gratified at the wonderful times we shared, and pained by the persistence of these very memories that will simply be no more.

i hated myself for not fully comprehending the extent of your love to me when it mattered, i hated myself for being such an escapist, who sought solace by averting my sights from your afflicted body foolishly convincing myself that you'll always be there. i hated myself for not spending enough time to know you better, there is so much more that i could have done. to say that i miss you, is simply a feeble response to the immense regrets towards what i could have done, but didn't.

when i found out that even in your wretched state of health, you didn't forget to tailor me 3 sets of new pyjamas like you did every year and handed them to mum, telling her to give one to me for the next 3 subsequent chinese new years, i simply couldn't help but to break down and cry. crying over the regrets i feel, and crying in the knowledge that you wouldn't be there for any subsequent chinese new years anymore.

while i choose not to believe in the existence of an afterlife, some part deep down within me tells me, that i would really want to see you again. where i can finally telling you all that i wanted to say. ' 想在你耳边,轻轻说一句,新衣服哪有旧的好 '. 我一定会让你为我感到骄傲.我一定会.


姑妈, 我还是好想你...

maybe it's time to move on.... from the delusions of grandeur

'What does drink especially provoke? ...nose painting, sleep and urine
......it persuades him, and disheartens him; makes him stand to, and not stand to; in conclusion, equivocates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie, leaves him'
-- The Porter 'Macbeth'

haven't really got that wasted for quite sometime. spent the better part of thursday getting wasted at mambo red in paramount - some sorta of 'singaporean clubbing event of the semester' here in perth - the lesser half in a tokenistic debate training session which my other 2 team-mates decided to give a miss...fuck, and the entire friday dragging a lethargic body to grocery shopping while nursing a quasi-hangover.

gone were the days of me challenging the corporate economic disingenuity of clubs offering free-flow...hell it wasn't even free flow here. all it took was just 5 glasses of JD coke at Joel's place, and 2 Samburca blacks and i'm off to surreality. surreal is just about the perfect word. in my vague recollections, i remember getting stuck in the R n B set upstairs and trying to persuade ppl to go downstairs to the retro set, but to no avail. i simply cannot appreciate the fascination about r n b, how could it be a true singaporean mambo event with no cheesy handmovements to retro music. i could also vaguely remember going around asking people if there were fights going on and to inform me if there was one. that's just so not me, i'm such a pacifist when it comes to dai ji. it's probably a manifestation of the pent up frustrations from the crappy debate session earlier in the day and the fact that no one else wanted to go to the retro set with me. it's probably good that there were no fights involving any frens...i would have gotten my ass kicked from northbridge to crawley in my altered state of consciouness. i'm pretty much a coward when it comes to dai ji, i could still remember an incident along Mohd Sultan about 2-3 yrs ago. i was out with the marlboro gang and we're chilling out outside Samsara. robin and his fren were leaning on this car which belonged to one of those lao buay lang uncles in the ktv beside samsara. in fact, many other random ppl whom we don't know were doing the same, and somehow the fuckers chose to pick on robin and fren. 2 of the fat lao buay langs came over and confronted robin and fren. delivering questions ranging from 'chup te loh eh?' to 'kia, ke aw buay kong'. robin tried to apologise...while sitting down on the aisle on the roadside. bad choice, one of the lao puay langs then decided to continue giving him a thermonuclear barage of hokkien expletives in Higher Hokkien while disgustingly nudging robin's head with his foot. according to robin, it wasn't really painful, but from our point of view, it was downright degrading. all through out all these indignation our fren face, all i could manage was to spectate, disassociating myself from the 2 of them. in fact, none of us tried to intervene apart from offering apologies on their behalf. it was an unforgivable act of cowardice, and i chose cowardice over integrity. although i apologised to robin later on, till this day, i still feel disgusted by my lack of courage, and i always wondered how things would have turned out if we were to just throw it all away and fought with the 2 motherfuckers.

digression aside, the 3rd thing i recalled was saying something highly unappropriate to this rather cute looking girl. i dunno her name, she was probably a fren of a fren of a fren or something, and we were all chilling out on the balcony at the 2nd storey outside the r n b set. i was sitting like perpendicular to where she was seated in a square table. apparantly her top slipped a little exposing part of her bra. i had no idea wat i was thinking, and just spontaneously told her 'eh, u zao geng liao'. it's one of those times where even in one's stupor you would immediately regret about what just came out of ur mouth. to my surprise and quite fortunately, she replied with a face-saving 'thank you, you're a good man'. i was so embarrassed, all i could manage was to smile and walk away. missy jurisfiction tot it was a case of good intention, but wrong application...hokkien descriptions are a no-no even if intentions were good. but then again, in my altered consciouness, how the fuck am i suppose to come out with a synonym for 'Zao Geng' in english? does it even exist? fuck, i hardly talk with girls in the club other than those i already know, and when i do talk to them, i just had to say something totally stupid...knnbccb.

*****************************

for the last 9 yrs of my life, since secondary 1, i dedicated myself to debating. fleeting facinations like gaming, gangsterism, chess, photography and many many more, come and go, but my involvement in debates either through debating or coaching is perhaps the longest sustaining passion in my life. From the wide-eyed thirteen year-old i once was to this embittered underachieving 22 year old now, all the carried me through this woeful debating career of mine, was nothing more than a dream that i could one day etch my name in my self-construed eternity by having just that one championship medal to my name. i came close to doing that once when i was sixteen. it was an incredible journey to the grand final. we pushed the boundaries of possibility. from debating minnows who broke into the knock-out rounds on a mathematical score tabulation error, then winning the rematch against the rightful semi-finalist, and defeating the other semi-finalist. we walked a million miles, only to stop a step from the destination. damn that rgs third speaker, or we could have done it that fateful night. for that night, we etched ourselves a place in debating obscurity, as the anonymous has-beens, could-have-beens ,never-have-beens. it hurts so much more knowing that you could have done it, rather than being crushed by the weight of reality right from the start. how different things would have turned out if we had just won that night. i probably wouldn't have went on indulging in a regime of self-pitying despondency instead of just studying for my O levels. and i probably won't have ended up in an ambitionless institution where i chose to give up on my life by my own device, otherwise known as CJC. and i probably wouldn't have resigned myself to indecent A level grades which otherwise would have sent me to a better university rather than just another institution with no debating ambition. the four words in the entire english vocabulary which you would wish that you'll never ever have to enunciate are 'If Only I had..'. judging from my referrals from search engines, many of which appear to be names of cat high debaters like fengyao and andre kua, there are probably many secondary sch debaters reading this. here's a piece of advice from an old hack: just perform to the best of ur abilities, do not short-change yourself on what your abilities carry you and enjoy what's left of this very brief debating career. and when it's all over, carry with you not the baggages of disappointments, but rather that of the fond memories and move on. just move on.

i'm part of the UWA contingent participating in the upcoming Australian Invervarsity Debating Championships, otherwise known as Easters (or westers since it's held in western oz for the 1st time), held over the easter weekend. even after 9 years into this, the sad truth is i'm still just a very average debater. i was hoping to be able to get into a team with more experience so that my lack of depth would be less glaring. but it wasn't to be. my team-mates are pretty much novices (at intervarsity level) like me, and it didn't help that we only had a grand total of ONE training session with all 3 members present. we're so going to embarrass ourselves this easter....

having spoken to some of the seniors, i seem to realise that this is perhaps the only competition UWA's gonna participate in this year, since the Australasian championships which will be held in Brisbane later this year is unlikely to feature any seniors since most seniors will be graduating. what this means is that participation will be subjected purely on interests and that if we were to send any team there, we'll probably just serve as cannon fodder for the eastern states powerhouses. the Easters will very likely be the curtain call for my woeful debating career. one grand final, one quarter final, 2 participation, one 5th best overall speaker of tournament and another potentially disasterous addition to my records. it's time for me to hang my case track books. life has a sardonic sense of humor doesn't it? bestowing upon those with an ambition overshadowing that of their abilities. it persuades him, and disheartens him, giving him the lie, and leaves him.

' a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.' --- Macbeth

If i could do it then, i WILL / MUST do it again

this semester has been uncomfortably relaxed so far. i've only got 3 tutorials for 4 modules this sem, and outta which one does not require us to prepare tutes before hand, while my management accounting tute's only on once every fortnight. it's a very enviable schedule i must say, and this has certainly helped making life far more comfortable which intricably leads me to fears of chronic procrastination...ah, freedom, such a enigmatic entity.

sometimes the simplest treasures are found in the most unlikely places. there's a film festival on at the sommerville auditorium in uni. i never been around that part of campus until last thurs when i stumpled on it on my way home from uni in evening. sommerville's an al fresco movie screening area not unlike that of a drive-in movie theater. there're reclining seats around for normal movie goers or alternatively u could choose to be a picnicker bring your own food and drinks sitting right in front of the screen. how could they not advertise such a cool hangout? well anyway, i've been on a somewhat movie spree of late, catching a documentary/movie about the role of the al jazeera during the iraq war called Control Room at the sommerville, and upon the discovery of a audiovisual section in the huge reid library, caught an italian movie called 'The Stolen Children' and surprisingly, a video recording of Margaret Chan's original ' Emily of Emerald Hill'.

never would i expect myself to watch a singapore theatrical production in perth of all places. well anyway, having had the benefit of growing up in the 90s, which consequently entitles me to the misfortune of remembering Margaret Chan in her better-left-forgotten role as a matriach in the fateful Channel 5 drama Masters Of the Sea, i must say, watching her as Emily really vindicated my impression of her and convinced me why she is a rather revered veteran of the singapore theater scene. the entire play is essentially an hour and a half long soliloquy with no one else on stage but the peranakan matriach herself. oh yes, it's about the life story of a domineering perankan shrew cum matriach. interestingly, i can't help but to draw some parallels between Emily of Emerald Hill and Xander's mother. well for one, both are housemakers, both households are considerably rich, both tekan their maids, - alright maybe fussy may be a better word than tekan - and most strikingly, both of them make their kids attend horseriding lessons. there was a scene where in an effort to get her son Richard into the good books of her father-in-law, Emily bought her son a pony and made him do riding. as it turns out, Richard who fostered a passion in stable work, chose to forsake his studies as a law student in favour of being a stable hand and was eventually driven to suicide when Emily imposes her will on Richard forcing him to go back to doing law. in comparison, Xander mom is without a doubt a much more pleasant person than Emily. also, it's really nice that Xander's parents are totally cool about Mark's desire to become a vetenarian rather than some other conventionally glamourous/profitable careers so i guess it's highly unlikely that Trevor or Mark will be conceivably driven to suicide. if only my folks were that cool about my choice of career too.

it's an important week as well, for one it's the week where team selections for Westers are held. it's the first time UWA's hosting a major debating tournmament so i guess it's a pretty good time for me to rejoin the union after spending last sem as a sleeping member. well it wasn't my fault that i hibernated, in fact, the university debating union only functioned for like the 1st half of last sem. i made it to the team in my last 2 institutions of education, i will do it again.

it's a very unique feeling browsing at old photos, feeling of nostalgia, bewilderment, and even regrets. after spending the better part of my life battling the bulge, i finally succeeded in 2002, courtesy of the free slimming programme compliments of the Singapore Armed Forces. For those 2 brief years, i enjoyed unprecendent self-confidence. It wasn't easy, and i tried to keep the metamorohosis permanent but somewhere along the past 1 yr, i let it all slip away, damn. It's a myriad of all those feelings looking at the old photos. Bewilderment at how i managed to do it, nostalgia at my old figure, and regrets of not keeping things that way....fuck. i did it then, and i MUST do it again, and i will do so.

i must defeat the middle kingdom.



Pre BMT: An obituary to my old self




Junyi 2002: Regrets is simply nostalgia with inaction. I missed you so. You will be revived. Trust me.

enter the (not-entirely) bachelors' pad

2 weeks on, it has finally began: the inauguration of my very first swinging (i hope) bach pad. it was hardwork, it was a almost like a dream fulfilled, and it has exposed my utter ineptitude at housework. a living area a good 3 times that of last semester at half the rent, i would say, FUCK YOU TRINITY COLLEGE, u callous capitalist profiteering pseudo educators!!!!


three happy proud virgin padders. it's actually less of a bach pad when you realise that 2 outta the 3 of us are attached. no prizes for guessing who's that single loser.



2 1/2 yrs of sleeping on muddy soil really helped us survive an entire week of sleeping on the floor without any furniture.




the accursed kitchen where i'm subjected to night after night of cinderella-like persecution, washing the dishes, mopping the floor etc by the evil step sisters just becos i'm discriminated agaisnt being the odd one out who is single though i also suspect that it has more to do with the fact that i can't cook a meal without burning up the kitchen.....


our first decent dinner in the house. for that matter, that was an entirely ad hoc dinner table made from 4 milk crates we stole from outside the local convenience store and a wooden plank which we eventually made a TV rack out of.


now that's what become of the milk crates...a far more dignified use you may argue.





it's a house full of irony. we have a huge garage but none of us have a car. we have a superb backyard but we haven't got a bbq pit. we've got a gianormous kitchen and dinner area but we have no dinner table. and i'm the only motherfucker with a room large enough to fit a queen size bed yet i have neither a girlfriend nor a fuck buddy to share it with. well at least i can retreat to the solace of my lovely balcony to comfort me when i'm lonely, taking a fag while imagining it to be that elusive inaugural post-coital cigarette which i hope will be in the not-too-distant future, which will then finally render my blog's name defunct.