My favourite Mouse just died

Are we are designed to just get used to things? It may not matter if we did not like it at first, but as we "get used to it", the habit of frequent use makes things comfortable and easy. Well, I liked my TravelPac Viper Laser mouse from the moment I saw it. It had everything I wanted on a mouse including cool looks and 3200dpi laser quality resolution, as well as sleek ergonomics and best of all, two rubber grips at the side. And, it blinks with a cool white light that makes for a perfect child's night light companion... Silly, right. But definitely endearing. Best of all, it worked so well. And then, while blinking normally and still able to scroll and its buttons (all five of them) worked, the laser optics just "died". It hasn't even been two years. And no rough and tumble use which it was designed for, such as gaming. So, what can I say about its demise. I like it so much I want it replaced, but the fact that it was my favourite was because it worked so well, except it did not last nor worked when I needed it, and all without any tell-tale sign. It was just like discovering your pet whimpering and you can't help it, knowing it will slip into some sort of catatonic state and eventually die. But this mouse is in a coma, functional only to scroll and click, but not point. No point.

I guess that says it all. But like all favourite things, it gets consigned eventually to "Hold Heaven" where things are hoarded for a grieving period before it heads into the recycling bin. For now, I have to contend with the Acer laptop's built-in Synaptics touch pad. It all seems nice and I am fine with the re-adjustment to "my life after Mouse". I think I don't want to get a replacement. But just then, I notice that my Synaptics touchpad sometimes like to leap like a frog to odd places onscreen. Did I just substitute my mouse for a frog?

The American Idols - Season 8 Top Bets

I don't know if you ever bother about that popular culture phenomenon known as the World's Greatest Talent show, but it makes for some great entertainment. The reason I enjoy it is that over the past six weeks or so, you would have noticed just how these contestants in the "greatest singing contest on earth" have grown, and besides that, if you range your observations over the past eight seasons, you would also notice that this season's group of eight finalists are particularly close knit. It's almost as if they don't care so much about the competition as they do being with each other and getting a chance to sing and entertain each week. Perhaps the fact that non-finalists of American Idol have already achieved greatness with their own music careers, not to mention that finalists like Jennifer Hudson have since won an Academy Award (for her supporting role in "Dreamgirls") and a Grammy for her first album... their singing careers are likely to be hugely boosted just by being among the Top Ten. Just recently, Alexis Grace performed at Ellen Degeneres' show at the Warner Brothers lot and you know what, she did a great job, sounding even better than when she was competing. There's something about being part of a competition that magically lends contestants both experience and confidence to be even better. This was also true for me when I did my first (leisure) competitive events and I understand fully now what this can do for anyone to develop a healthy self-respect and at the same time appreciate the achievements of other people.

I am prepared to bet that Allison, Adam and Kris will be this season's top three. Adam is incredibly talented vocally; Kris is a genuine self-taught musician who is set for some great work ahead writing and singing. Allison is all set to grow and enjoy the great career looming ahead of her in the life she's decided to be all about music. If you really want to feel something about what this competition means to the contestants, just listen to Kris Allen's heartbraking cover (Studio version) of Falling Slowly from the indie movie "Once".

I am now on Twitter

Just had to try it now where I use "BeironTay" as my user ID. It's good fun, and totally mindless. But if you want to stalk someone like Anderson Cooper, there's really no better way than following his tweets. I mean, you know when he's up and when he's having flashbacks on a small plane... so it's like keeping tap on a best pal. Also, the breaking news from CNN and/versus FOX is fun. Both networks just had a spat over the Tea Parties "anti-government" coverage which was what the CNN reporter labelled it, referring to FOX's conservative coverage making news out of a molehill.

Lance Armstrong Falls; Geared For Comeback

Comeback cycling hero Lance Armstrong was admitted into Hospital Clinico in Valladolid, Spain, on Monday after crashing during the opening stage of the Vuelta a Castilla y Leon.

I caught it as "breaking news" on Fox News. Heartbreaking but this is one injury that happens to most folks who crash on bikes. The world's watching how he will recover in time for the French Tour in July this year; I think he will. But I won't deny him taking a break and sitting out this one; but given the lousy economic climate, his race this race would be a nice distraction and an inspiration. So, for that, Mr Armstrong, please get well and get back on that bike seat, for all our sakes!

My Cancer Risk: Why I Blush At Death.

(This is from the New York Times article by By NICHOLAS BAKALAR published: March 20, 2009, reproduced below.)

People whose faces turn red when they drink alcohol may be facing more than embarrassment. The flushing may indicate an increased risk for a deadly throat cancer, researchers report. The flushing response, which may be accompanied by nausea and a rapid heartbeat, is caused mainly by an inherited deficiency in an enzyme called ALDH2, a trait shared by more than a third of people of East Asian ancestry — Japanese, Chinese or Koreans. As little as half a bottle of beer can trigger the reaction.

The deficiency results in problems in metabolizing alcohol, leading to an accumulation in the body of a toxin called acetaldehyde. People with two copies of the gene responsible have such unpleasant reactions that they are unable to consume large amounts of alcohol. This aversion actually protects them against the increased risk for cancer. But those with only one copy can develop a tolerance to acetaldehyde and become heavy drinkers. “What we’re trying to do here is raise awareness of this risk factor among doctors and their ALDH2-deficient patients," said Dr. Philip J. Brooks, an investigator with the National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism, and an author of the report published on Monday in the journal PLoS Medicine. “It’s a pretty serious risk." The malignancy, called squamous cell esophageal cancer, is also caused by smoking and can be treated with surgery, but survival rates are very low. Even moderate drinking increases the risk, but it rises sharply with heavier consumption. An ALDH2-deficient person who has two beers a day has six to 10 times the risk of developing esophageal cancer as a person not deficient in the enzyme. Reducing drinking can significantly reduce the incidence of this cancer among Asian adults. The researchers calculate that if moderate- or heavy-drinking ALDH2-deficient Japanese men reduced their consumption to under 16 drinks a week, 53 percent of esophageal squamous cell cancers in that group could be prevented. There is some anecdotal evidence that young people treat the flushing as a cosmetic response to be countered with antihistamines while continuing to drink. Ignoring the symptom and continuing to drink is likely to increase the incidence of esophageal cancer, researchers said. To determine risk, doctors can ask their patients two simple questions. First, do you flush after drinking a glass of beer? Second, in the first one or two years after you began drinking, did you flush after having a beer? The second question covers the possibility that a person has become tolerant to the effect. Dr. Brooks said that the two questions give doctors an easy way to find out if the patient is ALDH2-deficient. There is also a patch test in which an ethanol-soaked pad is applied to the skin. If it causes reddening after 10 or 15 minutes, there is a high likelihood that the person is ALDH2-deficient.

Singapore Set To Slump For Sure

How bad is bad? Well, my US Opportunities Fund has deteriorated to less than 28% its value since I invested, which means a paper loss of 72%, and other equities have since dropped in value by 41% and is unlikely to recover from its value pre-October 2008 in the coming year at least. Meanwhile, even real estate values have dropped as much as 25-30%, and all this while the Singapore dollar strengthens against regional currencies. That might stem inflation in the short term but we are going to see a drop in consumption (especially if this is driven by foreign arrivals) and employment (which will likely surpass 5-6% out of work by year end). So, whether or not we will have an exciting General Elections, at the end of the day, we are just going to see things just slump into what might be the worst ever crisis. How do we get around this? I can only imagine the sort of politics that might be rife in the workplace as folks get to the knife to save their own skin! Good luck to those at risk. I am lucky to have gotten out of the fight early and can only pray for those folks who serve that coup de grace. My reflection on that next...

Hard Times Make The Flowers Bloom

Really?

No, lah. I was just kidding. But the flowers are blooming well with the weather alternating between wet and dry, which is also ideal for the mosquitoes and flies to breed. The non-flowering plants such as the Pandan, mint, Indian boarage, are also doing particularly well and growing vivaciously, thanks to the mild weather. The pleasure is having a splash of colour crowning the flower pots and this is definitely an aerial gardener's joy.

Garden in Eden

The planter and trough full of potted plants are doing very well. This picture was taken two weeks ago; but the dry mornings and wet early afternoons have made the plants bloom, even though these photos don't show what the plants look like these past two days. What a delight. This all, in my own Eden. Who needs hell?

MUFFIN AND COFFEE GOES UP 25% IN PRICE AT McDONALD'S

Popular among gamers and bloggers at one time is the McDonald's spartan breakfast of a McMuffin with Coffee (or Tea) at just S$2.00. This was bred out of the last downturn in Singapore, possibly to a government call for responsible, community-oriented, businesses like McDonald's to offer an everyday low price item on their menu. I don't know if this was either part of their management's plan to create a loss leader (unlikely as this is a "meal" by itself without any quota to purchase) or because it had an inflationary measure impact on a basket of goods used by some statistical body to keep the figures looking attractive. Either way, Kenneth Chan who had run McDonald's operations in Singapore was famed for his price-related promotions to keep his transaction numbers up, and just last week, it was announced that he will head up McDonald's China which is definitely a promotion in recognition of his work and commitment at the Golden Arches.

Perhaps, he kept the prices down until so far, and now that he's gone the full impact of inflation has come to fore with the price of the McMuffin and Coffee combination (available only until 11 am weekdays, with unlimited refills of beverage) up by a hefty 25% to S$2.50 (that means a 50 cent increase).

Of course no one is going to complain; except if the quality of tea and coffee is going to be consistent and not diluted like it is. I suspect that the stores have been advised to cut back on quality on the standard coffee and tea which have become more dilute than ever before. The question therefore is this: is McDonald's Restaurant quality really consistent or with the inflationary/recessionary factors at play, necessary for them to play with their quality even if consumers are prepared to pay the price on the menu?

Life of the Rice Weevil

You don't think much about all the pests around us at home or outdoors, and when it comes to these bug encounters, we just want to get rid of them. But there is a real ecology at work wherever we find them. When I first began my corridor planters with fresh pots of plants, these all died in a month, and again I bought a fresh batch of plants and my green-fingered neighbour tried to explain to me in Teochew that I should only water them once a week. I followed his advice and all the plants died within another month! I was going to give up except that it was plain curiousity and vanity which made me persevere. Common man, I said to myself, it cannot be that hard to get some plants alive. In my experiment to own a small aerial corridor of green plants (technically to reduce my carbon footprint in this life), I wondered quickly how many more species of plants and such specimens need to sacrifice themselves.

Before I left the nursery, out of plain exasperation, I decided to let my naivete work and asked the supervisor, "How often to water, huh?" She smiled and quickly said: everyday, for these potted plants, in the afternoon or any time. I realised then that outdoor plants in pots are a thirsty lot. Then the plants thrived and when my neighbour came by to say I was wetting the plants too much, I nodded politely and then thanked him, hoping he will mind his own business for a while.

The plants then developed various diseases, manifesting themselves with all sorts of damage. I bought some plant insecticide - organic of course and over time must say these are plain nonsense. I tried some Baygon, which meant that my mint, basil, and other herb plants are not going to be used in my tea pot. The Baygon worked! But soon after, I found the plants began to ail and die, as if from chemical poisoning. Now, all this could sound very distressing and I am only compressing 3 years of horticultural ambition into these few paragraphs!

Then, in a separate incident, after I saw a few house lizards roam happily across my wall chewing up a few ants and such, I said to myself, now that pet is doing his job! Immediately I realised that what could be killing the plants were my harsh efforts to deploy various means to try and help it. For instance, if I over enthusiastic about a few more grains of fertilizer, the plants would react and show stress - discolouration, frail foilage, etc - and I had to be careful, like a mother who knows exactly what the plant needs and when. Then I knew immediately that the best way to keep the insects away was letting the spiders do their jobs. When a few black and brown spiders were noticed around my planters, this time, I made the effort not to get rid of them.

If you look at my plants today, considering that these are all two year old or more in these tiny pots, placed outdoor along my corridor, you would be amazed how I have graduated from an urban chemical fiend to a friendly eco horticuluralist! A great deal of these insects do their job, surprisingly, if you just let them. And if there are just too many of them, the neighbour sparrow or lizard takes care of it.

Just this morning as I was doing my laundry on my beloved BOSCH (I swear by this brand), and stoopped to scoop the detergent out of the carton box, I was surprised to find a single rice weevil on the top of the soap powder, walking around on the grains inside the plastic bag as if Lord of the Manor. This was unusual in two ways: firstly, I always opened and closed the bag by folding it and clipping it, secondly, I never leave the bag open for long at any one time. So, how did this weevil get in there, and could there be something inside the detergent which these can thrive on from the manufacturing plant to my home. After all, this was washing machine detergent with all its additives, and not my regular rice bin (I have none for the longest time) or some food or cracker box (none in my kitchen either). So, how did this little bugger get there.

Here's where this blog really starts: it just struck me that we ignore a great deal about the hows and when or whys of things that happen. I looked at the little weevil and lifted it out of the detergent and wonder if I should clinically dispose of it, let it loose, or be some punitive monster-god and squash it. I let it loose on the sink to see if it had survived the detergent. Then I got very curious about how much we know of these weevils, their lifecycle, living habits and contributions in any way to our ecology.

Of course I know it now as Sitophilus oryzae and that it has a short lifecycle of 5-8 weeks during which it can be very active. It also flies and can sniff out rice, other grains and food to get into our homes, pantry and food stowage containers. It was interesting to read about these weevils, which when I was young and had to sort the rice grains out for the family rice cooker, we would separate all the stones or spoilt rice grains, and put all the weevils aside. My brother Chris and I would sometimes try to imagine these as our own flea circus but the weevils never do what we want and our human brains seemed unable to penetrate theirs with powerful mind-controlling projections! I looked at the weevil in my sink closely and wondered how life on earth has become so wonderously varied and filled with patterns of behaviour and complex structure in form and range. So, the life of this weevil is right there before me.

But it is the result (clone) of one other weevil which reproduced itself in some grain kernal with many others and in essence, this one is in fact many. This perhaps separated my own being from these weevils, and even though we sometimes seem overwhelmed by the vastness of life and think ourselves as insignificant pests populating the earth, ravaging resources and being nasty to each other, I was glad to be reminded that we are all not living solely on our urges and instincts and that our will and self-control is one of the better parts of our humanity and that shape and define our destiny, personal and collectively.

Morning Pleasure: breaking into a new day at East Coast

One of the joys of living in Singapore might be coming to the East Coast park at day break and catching the sun rising over the South China Sea and Singapore Straits. Just as well, any one might prefer the view out of their window where they are, or perhaps peering upwards from a coffeshop table or McDonald's outlet located in the heartland. But these days, one of my lifestyle perks is getting up before daybreak - a habit from my earliest working days after dropping a shift-lifestyle of irregular hours - and finding a great reason not to snooze and wake up three hours or more later. That one great draw for me used to be hitting the gym at the Hyatt. But recently renovated and re-branded as part of the international hotel chain's new Spa business, the fitness centre at Grand Hyatt Singapore is designed to meet the business traveller's needs and not those of an established base of life or period members. So, I dramatically lost the incentive to get up and get going. Instead, if I did not mind the mass-market madness or students, executives and muscle-Marys, the workout equipment available at California Fitness are ideal. It's a wildly different crowd of gym-bods and bodyworshippers which one will have to get comfortable with. Anyway, it failed to be a great reason to get me out of bed and going there. But the one reason I could get out of bed for was catching the earliest light off Singapore's east coast, at the park which ran all along the south-east coastline. I would either cycle, inline skate, stroll, jog (seldom, as I dislike hardground to run on), or best - get my 16 oz cup of Starbucks brew and hook up on the free Internet wifi access point and update my blog, clear my emails and best of all, watch the crowd come in and go. Now, I could only do this as a jobless bloke in a highly employed Singapore society. But the government has just revised the country's economic forecast downwards, with the GDP expected to be falling as well. So, I think I can expect more company for coffee hereafter, and safely consider that at least the sunrise remains sublimely glorious and always something to look forward to, even as I hog the same spot with my endless refills inside the coffeeshop while my computer struggles with catching up on my typing emails, blog updates and other literary triffle anyone might cared less for. Thus the only thing that forces me to wait these days are the queues for coffee and my Internet Explorer 8 beta that constantly reports "Not Responding" when what it really means (as with all Vista O/S applications), "Please wait as your software application is being processed by your CPU." Thanks to some engineer who wrote the codes and alerts but is not a great communicator, Microsoft now has this silly alert tagged on all its applications that say "Not Responding", which is a misnomer. The CPU eventually catches up and the application will not hang. What should have been used is what was used before: "Please wait." or "Your application is now running..." or "Please let your computer complete the last processes." or somesuch. No wonder so many good folks running Vista think it sucks. The application may be slow, but the alert tag vocabulary may have been written by an alien...

EAST COAST TO CHANGI BEACH: Contemplation Ride

Why do we take long rides on our bikes, at the burst of dawn? There are a whole lot of road bike enthusiasts who take to the East Coast service road at the break of the day and you can see them in groups in their roadie outfits and Oakleys. I once viewed these riders with disdain, because they were always so swift, so confident on their bikes, and sometimes, it looked like they defied all sense of gravity and care from the way they sped along. You get the sense the car drivers ought to be careful and these roadies might enjoy their right of way. Yet, too often, I find Singapore drivers not particularly careful enough about bike riders. They over take in the opposite lanes even when they have full view of the road bikes coming right at time in the opposite direction. One lorry driver did exactly this, and waved his hand in apology as he overtook, knowing fully well he was in the wrong. I wonder if he would be just as casual if he had knocked the bicyclist down - being in the wrong lane, at the wrong time. But any dead cyclist would never be able to defend himself. The law should be simple. Any collision with a motorcyclist or bicyclist by a motorist should by default put the latter at fault. Afterall, a cyclist or a motorcyclist is unprotected, and the laws of physics make it clear - these road users cannot instantly brake the way cars or larger vehicles can absord the kinetic energy and come to a quick rest. With ABS, more car drivers are becoming less and less aware of the need for braking distance. I was on the same park service road this morning and noticed a large dark blue Toyota Camry driven by a lady coming in from the Marine Parade flyover. She halted at the road turning into the service road - a required stop. But even as she could see my bike coming straight pass her, she ignored my bike and moved her car directly across my lane, then looked left to check for oncoming traffic. This was completely unsafe and improper but there were no cameras or traffic cop to make her aware of her bad driving habit. It seems that unless you are on a bike yourself, then only you get to notice these sort of bad driving habits. The current Traffic Police sponsored message to drivers is to "Look Out..." for other road users. Yes, but they need to add: "two-wheeled vehicles like bikes and other unprotected road users need time to brake and stop; motorists need to be careful to give them way if necessary". But the apparent dangers that these frustrating observations about dangerous road use behaviour aside, the thrill of being open to the wind and feel the raw speed envelop you as you get into gear and take off is one simple reason we all cycle. The dissassociative sights and sounds of the early morning along East Coast is a plus, and for some, the draw. Ultimately, if you have great machine, the efficiency technology brings to your experience is another draw. My TREK Project One bike is fitted out to make that an ultimate experience, and this morning, I found myself staddling the bike with the arrowbars and taking in the distance from East Coast to Changi beach via the Park Connector like a thirsty barfly quenching down his Guinness... Before long, I am at the familiar northern-most end of the bike trail, and turn south-east. At Changi beach, I must make pilgrimage and pause at bench no. 9, where I remember sitting with Jordan just two years ago, and thinking how peaceful the place was. At 9am, the tide reached the high of the morning, and the water became flat. Ideal for a sea swim, but I will save that for tomorrow, perhaps. I looked around the area, and contemplated the peace, calm and cheerfulness. From the bench where we once sat together, I can see the very spot where out in the open waterway, we had put him to rest. The water is flat, this morning, broken only by the barges and water taxis (bumboats) that still trudge that way. The birds are busy chirping overhead, with the waves gently breaking on the shoreline, and I get this very pleasant sense of quiet joy and warmth - knowing full well, that the ones we love who are gone before us, must surely know a far better peace than even this which we can find here on earth.

ABOUT THOSE SAND TOOLS - DETAILS

About the tools Chris and I were using in the picture featured in my earlier post, I just needed to add some details about its material texture. Those kid's sand box tools were made of a soft rubber material in off-white cream colour, with lovely veins of maroon and grey spiralling through the instrument's handles. The rubbery feel has a very comforting touch which was soft and cool. It helped that things such as these were made to last as much as the technology and materials of those times would permit. Eventually, after some abuse, I remember those toys breaking, and it was with some fury. This is the sensory fact: people who decidedly throw such materials are eroding the memories attached to the very things we played with, wore and used. Unless we put some of these into the chests available in our hearts and minds, as treasury of happy memories and feelings to draw upon whenever we chose, we are destroying the gift of time and experience but removing useful aids to our recollection. The ancient Jews, we read in their bible, therefore were often urged by their prophets, to recollect through rituals and gatherings, readings and bodily scars (circumcision), to constantly put before them the experience of their ancestors in their covenant with God. For this reason, I think we need to know what we ought to keep, and not indulge in the premature fear of prolonged grief to remove all memory and sensory relics of the people precious to us. What I found disgusting was the way my mother's wardrobe and personal effects were hastily removed out of the house she lived in, and the people who were doing these had spent even less of their lives with her than I. Worse was to see my father passively stand by as this was done. It remains his nature to be stoic and passive about such things and it is a mystery how he must think - for I am not sure that he can clearly distinguish between the keeping of things with memory attached to it (sentimental value) and those which are kept with the hope of future utility (utilitarian value). Memory is a very vital human aspect of being. I hope those who care less about such might someday understand what it is like to care for another who suffer from Alzhiemer's where the brain wastes away and memory is stolen as the cells die off.

THIS SON ON THE BEACH - ANOTHER EARLY MEMORY

Here is another early memory I can put a date to because of notes made at the back of the photograph in my father's hand. It was 13 December 1967 at Tanah Merah. I remember this visit to Changi Beach, which had casuarina trees lining the roads and somewhere near the beach itself, there was an esplanade of sort, in concrete with steps cut inbetween the balustrades which ran down to the beach. The beach itself was a narrow strip of sand, and I remember it was already close to noon by the time we were allowed to "play sand". I was already on the wet sand when someone called from behind to get the spade, bucket and trowel. I remember that as the littlest, I had the trowel shoved to me, because my brother Chris knew better that the spade would be the right tool for digging. I could scrape the sand, and before long I could dig a hole. But I was easily bored and after a while, I felt it was pointless making a hole. But I looked around and could see a great many people strolling into the beach and having a splashing time. There was even some dark-skinned boys with a large rubber tube. I looked up to beyond the balustrades and remember the ice cream bells being rung by vendors, adults smoking with fashionable sunglasses on, and the best of all, where those spiny long frangipani leaves and flowers. I remember looking desolate and bored, and peered mostly down at my small Japanese togs or sandals. These were blue in colour, and white on the soles. They were still fairly new and I would wear these down in the coming year.

What struck me was that in the car drive to the beach, I remember the food packed for the picnic which was in the car booth, and sitting in the new plastic of my father's car which had a transparent cover. Oddly, while I know my mother was around, I never could remember seeing her at the beach picnic itself, just my brother Chris, father and some of his friends (or colleagues?).

But this was to be just one of several visits to the beach. When I was older, I remember strolling and collecting shells and bits along the wet banks at low tide off Bedok beach. It was late in the afternoon circa 1970-1, and a sharp piece of shell pierced my right sole, and embedded itself there painfully. It took my mother's firm hand and a heated needle to eventually free the debris from under the skin, and blood oozed out. Instead of more pain, the relief was so immediate that the pain of extraction was overcome and forgotten.

I like to imagine that all little children would love to have their memories back if they could; I think that way because I recollect many of my earliest memories with clarity and unusual vividness. These are a treasure trove in my mind's urn, pearls and gems to be cherished till my own mind will fail and all things fade to dust. These, little those stars in the opalescent night, shine still suite bright and are constellations in my recollections of my happy boyhood, and a caring mother's hand ever nearby to comfort, heal and nourish.

A BIRTHDAY AND A HOLIDAY - SIX TO FORTY-FOUR, AND AS EARLY AS THREE

I had a happy birthday, day before yesterday, and it was a good one. You tend to think of special days and holidays as "celebrations", often associated with a gathering of friends or family, or food and drink, gifts and going to places you want to remember or re-live. It is about creating new memories and recollecting great ones. The first birthday party I ever remembered was when I was six (1970), just after my brother Chris, and the cake was baked by our mother. It was the same rainbow butter cake - except my brother Chris had more chocolate veins and mine had strawberry veins with chocolate. The cake had butter icing on it and I remember how she had baked it the day before, and in the evening got down to the icing on a smallish nickel cake stand which could be rotated. She had made trellises on the edges, and down the sides in lines, careful to add the hem at the bottom last so that it would be over the others. Then there were silver sugar coated balls, like ball-bearings, which she had dropped as pearls on the top of little buds of icing she had put all around the cake. There was even a silver cake board, which for some reason I associated only with bought cakes. So, even as I was puzzled about this detail, I imagined my mother's cake to be as good as any we would have bought from the store. Perhaps, just being six years old then, I would have already sensed that something we bought with money cost more than something we made at home. I loved the butter cake or pound cake as she called it, and when she had done with the icing, Chris and I could lick the spatula and brown ceramic icing bowl clean. Then my mother would put the cake, all dolled up, on the cake stand which would sit on an inverted saucer in a plate lightly filled with water. This was to create a moat trap for any wandering ant, while the large food net with a wire loop would keep the flying bugs away. The following day, in the afternoon, the furniture around the house would be re-arranged for the party, which would be my first. Arrangements would be quite the same as Chris', and I would now be quite prepared for what will take place. There would be orange squash, and we would all be dressed up, my hair slick with Brycream, or some greenish goo from this Lavender brand which came in a small pumpkin shaped fluted jar with a round gold cap. Fortunately, I had a keen sense of smell, and many of my early childhood memories are laced with smells I remember. Now, the other neighbourhood children arrive and there are two girls I like, and if you ever looked at the pictures, you need not guess which of them I liked more... But my earliest birthday memory was when I was just about three (1967), when Christopher celebrated his birthday. I knew it was his birthday because my father took a photograph of him first while I was held back behind the camera. Then after his shot was taken, I was gingerly positioned next to him, little and made akimbo, which was a really silly pose. But I was very happy and remembered the whole scene and on-goings. I remember the black-white striped pockets which I dug my tiny hands into. More importantly, I remember my mother's ployester blue dress with the little white embrodiery reindeer prancing around her like a carousel. It is very strange how these memories are structured, and we have vivid visual recollection of meaningless details while we forget other elements which might matter more. But it is important to recall that I was only 2 years eleven months old when these things took place, and I remember other details which I cannot put to a date without the aid of some evidence such as notes on an old photograph. Children will always remember their mothers on these special days; similarly godmothers and fathers on baptisms and so forth. My brothers who married - I wonder - will they remember also what my mother said and did for them, when their anniversaries come around, or will their own anxiety and those of their wives make up more of their recollections, and the small part actors are made up of the rest of us. Why do these memories matter? Perhaps, because in obvious and latent ways, we are made up of these influences. I did not cherish my birthdays as much now: for since I ever was, this is my first birthday without that other key player in my life, who was the key player in the drama 44 years ago in the old Kandang Kerbau Hospital where she was in labour for half the day. I remember my mother talking about the stitches she had just giving birth to me and I wonder about how she had endured giving birth to all four of my brothers and I, and possibly surviving the personal grief of a miscarriage or two. She is now gone; all too quickly. In the last seven months when she battled cancer and had to confront her own mortality, it left too little opportunity for us to ever talk or reminisce of these happier events we shared, even though my part in such times would be that of the minor, as I was indeed. A minor player in these parts, we who are less preoccupied by the roles and speeches, are often better spectators than players. I suspect this was to be so true that my own calling would become manifest when I found my own voice through writing.

Of Loyalty and Longing

I turned 44. Cosmically, it was at 2223 last evening, 1 October.

The age seemed less an issue after 40, and perhaps, because by then, most of your friends are hovering around the big Four-O, and cannot be too quick to solemnize your aging or mid-life phenomena. Fortunately, everyone is also aging better these days, and we are not popping off like flies because of cardiac arrest just three decades ago, like the typical Monday morning executive death syndrome. Unsaturated fat and an improved understanding of what that does is all to thank for.

This birthday, I noticed that the bulk of junk mail I greeted with glee (in lieu of opening absent presents), are the mass of loyalty mailers that flood at this time. "To celebrate your special day" one offered foot scrubs and food discounts all on the same page. Another tempts with 50% off full price items. Another, a $389 dollar fitness and spa deal at just $38. There is something superstitously convenient about those dollar numbers, if you are into numerology.

But the thing is that these stuff do work. A good deal is a good deal and all you have to decide is to let yourself be seduced into whatever weak motivation might exist for you to be "pampered" by a sale, a purchase, or another book on the shelf.

What was therapeutically positive was having envelopes in the mail which felt thick and solid, and from "leading brand names" that make you feel remembered, while especially knowing that these were not bills or from the credit companies. But careful there. If you are not careful, you will get to hear from those bill collectors, coming approximately one solar month after your indulgence to bring you straight back into therapy.

You might just long for that break from all this, right.

Well, here is the catch which we all learnt from the Screwtape Letters. The devil knows just how to turn the screw, and get us all aleaping into the fire from the pan. The belief is that we all "need a break", need a treat.

The trick - we have all yet to learn - is just to need less, and live less. Live with less. Can't be that hard, right. Well, when you do, you just find all these loyalty messages and mailers are just great jokes that come by annually, and take them for exactly what they are: automatically generated by some computer programme while using up some energy and material resources just to help the world's economic cogwheel which runs on vanity to turn one more round, and with your help in lending it the next turn. Is there an opt out option? It's in the longing, but meanwhile, we are like that tight spring within the heart of the whole mechanism of economic life that needs to give a twist and turn. Otherwise, like the wound-up clock, we will fall silent and forgotten, being of little "economic" use.

The Peaceful Warrior

1987, Hawaii. I was enroute to Los Angeles, when I was transitting Oahu. It is hard to give the great Pacific weather you get in Hawaii a miss. Not only was it plain magic, the freshness of the young land - volcanic, rising out of the middle of the ocean - gives you a sense of the catalysmic change constantly happening on the earth's crust.

There, on Ala Moana beach, I sat on the sun-bleached sands, and spend an hour in personal contemplation. What did I see, out over the wide expanse of blue before me? If life is made up of extraordinary moments, then those such as these are epiphanies. The few white sails far out, a few ships passing, and a whole lot of ocean. Then closer in, the endless crests of white waves breaking, wave after wave. The wind is louder in your ears than the waves breaking and ebbing on the shore. Then you feel the white heat of the sand, radiating the bright sun above. On the left, the high coconut palms in fraternal salute, their arms flailing and arching with the wind as the white water bursts on the breakwater below. People, now you see them, are busy with their own activities, Jogging, on bikes, and tanning in the sun, like me. I turn around and look towards the park behind me and at the looming Ala Moan centre and hotel. Sunlight is falling like bright snow on everything, bathing it with warm like the heaviest monsoon, but everything is dry, and illumined. It was then there that I met Rene de Chevrotiere, and our conversation brought us to a bright friendship where all this made sense. Life is about the journey, and the journey is the source of happiness, not the destination.

He passed me Dan Millman's "Way Of The Peaceful Warrior", and back then I did not fully see what influence this would have in my own journey, and what a ride that has been. Salute Rene, and merci. I wish your journey has been bright and full of light as mine has.

ABOUT HEAD - MY NEW RACQUET

It may sound like I'm making a racket about this racquet, but the HEAD Metallix S10 I ordered from World of Sport fell through and after run abouts with the merchandiser and their principals, all I was left with was "Er, the size you want 4 1/2 the prinicipal say they don't carry anymore as it is not popular." So, my option was for 4 3/8 and sprained forearms maybe. Then I get a call from the World of Sports staff: "Sorry, we ran out of stock." But I thought there was one at the store. "We only have s8 now, but the size is also not your size. The merchandiser say they don't carry 4 1/2 because it is not saleable." You know, I have been in sports retail before and all this is rubbish, unless we are only selling racquets to the very young and smallish people. These days, perhaps the bigger, taller tennish players must be buying Wilsons or Balolat and from Royal Sporting House or XXX sports shop at Queensway or Lucky Plaza! But the staff at this World of Sports outlet was trying very hard and her perseverance deserves appreciation from this customer. So, I didn't give up and poked my nose around... before long I settled for the HEAD Intelligence S12. Here are the specifications:

• Length: 28"
• Head Size: 115"
• Weight: 8.1 oz.
• Balance: 1pt HL
• Cross Sect1on: 28.50mm
• Type of Swing: Compact strokes
• String Tension:5766 lbs
• Ra:
• Flex: Stiff
• Features: Pre-Strung with IntelliString string at mid tension

And a professional reviewer has this to say about it too: "First things first: The Head i.S10 and i.S12 play a lot alike, although the i.S12 is longer and has a slightly thicker beam. Like the i.S10, the i.S12 has piezoelectric fibers in the throat to give the stick more pop than a champagne bottle, so players with long strokes should look elsewhere, unless they like hitting the backstop on the fly. Beginner testers loved the giddy-up they got on their volleys and ground strokes courtesy of the super-stiff frame. 'I’d just block the ball and it would go nice and deep, and the control wasn’t bad either,' said one 3.0 NTRP player. Another source of the i.S10’s and i.S12’s power is the open 14 by 17 string pattern, which, it should be noted, may also cause the strings to prematurely snap (there’s more string movement and thus more friction). This racquet plays best with a vibration dampener; without one, it makes a loud 'ping.' The same goes for the i.S10." So, I finally have my racquet to make "ping" on the lawn, again. The funny thing is, my tennis mates are now playing badminton. Yonnex? I must be lagging behind the court fads.

beLOW ZERO - New Diver Timepiece from Hamilton

Now that Hamilton has been acquired by the Swiss SWATCH Group, there have been some very terrific timepieces in their new product line up. From their very first release since the acquisition, I bought the KHAKI Air Race, which I remember Jordan liking it quite much. After this young man's death, I gave that favourite timepiece to one of his best friends, James. Last year, I bought the X-WIND Limited Edition Black Stainless Steel, which was quickly a favourite (why else get it?). But when I uncovered the back case protective plastic, we found that the sapphire crystal black cover was chipped. I sent it back under the warranty claims, and instead, had to pay for the new crystal, even when it was brand new. I think this was more a problem with the local agent - Watches of Switzerland - than Hamilton/SWATCH per se. Anyway, I paid - or I wouldn't get my watch back; what would you do? Then I noticed the brand new line up of Art Deco - Panel Dial designs from the 2008 line-up, which are called beLOW ZERO, notably because of the hard steel case and bold look that has been made famous by brands like Panterai, U-Boat, Bell & Ross etc. But being from SWATCH Group, you can expect some incredible finishing quality from them for the casings. While I put OMEGA up there as my top watch brand (also from the same Group), I did not want to get another, having given my SEAMASTER to my nephew Gerard for this 21st. I wanted simply wanted a watch brand that is fairly "undiscovered", has genuine heritage, great modernity yet appeals to the conservative-art inclined few. A tough combination, but I found that in BALL watches which is why I bought their 18kt Rose Gold timepiece as a personal keepsake. But with the new (30 March 2008) beLOW ZERO silver face DIVER watch with helium release (depth to 1000m) and resin strap from Hamilton, I could not resist. It's a tad chunky. But it was exactly the sort of watch I wanted back on my wrist apart from my more functional Polar and Timex training ware. This watch makes you feel so good, you want to head out of the house just to get it noticed! Specifications: BeLOWZERO Auto 2826 Size : 46 mm Material : Stainless steel/ Black PVD Dial Color : Black / silver Attachments : Black rubber / black rubber & stainless steel mixed Movement : Automatic 2826 - ETA 2824-2 Crystal : Sapphire Water resistance : 1000 m

ANTIVIRUS PRO 2008 INFECTED IE 7.0 - GET FIREFOX!

I surrendered to getting BitDefender 2008 to supplement my NOD32 on antivirus, but mainly because it had 24/7 Singapore-based support, and included what it said was the best anti-Spyware and malware. Despite some pretty confusing installation options that was disruptive (like loading in the CD to install but the pop-up asks if you want to download a newer version... "sure"... and it hangs). So you just install what's on the CD and it's fine. That sort of thing. Very common even in the stores which try too hard to be customer-oriented when there aren't the right resource processes to support the options. Go into a store, and the sign says "If we don't have what you want, tell us and we will get it for you." You go to the store person and report your request, and the first thing you hear back is, "All we have is already on the store shelf, sir." Very polite, right. It's even more sad that while you want to be nice to all these migrant and foreign language-speaking workers, you just have to hear this sort of thing voiced back to you. I am sure it's not their fault. But all this just adds up to consumer frustration, and eventually, dislike for these sort of workers when they are stereotyped as polite but useless. Anyway, have you ever tried uninstalling Microsoft IE 7.0 on Vista in your laptop/PC? Tried all sorts of ways? Well, now you know how well embedded IE is on the Windows platform. You are stuck in hell, which is where those engineers are going for sure if God was ever on the Internet. I must recommend FireFox browser and I can only say, just use your IE 7.0 for your Windows operation. That stupid application is so vulnerable to Trojans, worms, malware and other adware crap that once you are hit, you can't properly resolve, even if you want to reinstall IE 7.0. For the average PC user, you just feel like you needed to get a college degree on Windows just to live on earth.