Monster Bites

2011 in Retrospect

2011-12-30T15:04:00.000+08:00

As is customary for newspapers to publish editorials on the year in retrospect, I will be penning down my personal perspective of 2011 here.

I liked how 联合早报 did a series of articles using singular words to summarise events of the year, so I shall 东施效颦 and attempt the same today.

水 (Water)

This one is a no-brainer. Throughout the year, I probably spent more time with water than I ever did before. So much so that I have witnessed the gradual transformation of Kallang from a salty, used-condom and dead cat-strewn waterway to an apparently freshwater but still used-condom and dead cat-strewn Marina reservoir, complete with a white-elephant of a fountain that I don't see switched on these days. I was there before the sun rose, and there when the sun set. Sometimes, I would spend my entire weekend there. Gradually, I developed a love-hate relationship with water. The thrill of a catch, the exhilaration of a surge, and the letdown when I just fail to connect with the water on curious days have contributed to my present schizophrenic self. The consolation is being able to do this with people of similar ambitions, so you can share your woes or learn a few tricks to give you an extra oomph while wielding the paddle. Lately, the masochistic part of me has compelled me to learn K, and my high CG, complete with a clumsy demeanour, aren't make things easy. I surmise I capsized more than 30 times in one session alone (as Jerry Tan can attest to), much to the amusement of roaming Banglas along Kallang Park taking a break during the recent Xmas long weekend. But the 抓水的快感 is something you will never forget and would want to experience everyday, so my "It's complicated" relationship with water shall persist.

Still working on it; gotta row more, swim less

速 (Speed)

2011 was all about speed for many reasons. First, I rushed through my long overdue driving lessons in 1 month and got my licence on the second try (damn you KERB!). Second, I acquired an overpriced car that made life much easier, and faster. Going to trainings no longer became a hassle, and ferrying friends around provided great in-car entertainment on the otherwise angst-inducing roads of Singapore. Third, there was the speed on water as we chase the elusive magic figure while trudging our way in Marina Reservoir. In a measured sport like ours, the GPS will validate our hard work, and will similarly shame us with nonchalant candor for shoddy performance. Numbers do not lie, so those digits became our best friend and worst enemy for the entire year. I shall not even begin talking about the ergo panel that mocks you with its dwindling numbers as you fight tenaciously against the equally dogged clutches of lassitude at every single pull.

Ergometer - The machine we love to hate

友 (Friends)

I promise i will not go melodramatic about this, but i have learnt many things from the people i've met this year, both at training and at work. Whether good or bad, these new friends have helped shaped my perspective on many important issues. Platonic relationships aside, I have been pestered at various ends (friends and family alike) to up the ante and start a romantic exchange. Well to put things upfront, I am one heck of a boring guy with too many things on my mind; so, I'd patiently let nature take its course. I appreciate all who attempted (or are still attempting) to matchmake me, and while these events can be daunting for a timorous person like me, I will take things in my stride. Ok next topic *ahem*

志 (Ambition)

The past year has made me reevaluate what matters to me, and what doesn't. It's always about striking a balance. Thoreau said "To put to rout all that is not life, and not, when I have come to die, realise I have not lived." Yet, in the process of "Living deep and sucking the marrow out of life", I am constantly reminded that "sucking the marrow out of life does not mean choking on the bone". A thin line separates passion and obsession. I wonder if my involvement with rowing (or as purist will say, "paddling") has made me overlook other important things in life, and whether my singular focus on bettering myself on water has been a myopic move. My answer to this, has always been an unequivocal "no". I enjoyed every single bit of training, and I will continue in this pursuit, even if my work has to take a backseat. Sometimes my Type A personality rears its head and shriek at the possibility of me being a nobody when I eventually do "retire" from the sport due to physiological limitations (yes, age); that i'll be a lowly MO while my other friends have risen to be full-fledged specialists. As traditional Chinese wisdom expounds, 鱼与熊掌毋能兼得; so I am still trying to achieve the zen of balancing both work and training in the coming year. Already in Jan 2012 I foresee missing out on quite a number of training sessions, and I am suppressing myself to prevent any displeasure from effervescing while at work. I am not sure how long I can keep this up. There are expectations from both sides and I will persevere to meet them all, and if I ever explode into a fit of exasperation, I will welcome an arm round my shoulder. "I'm only a man looking for a dream"... and it sure ain't easy to be me.

Tim Brabants - Olympic champion + World champion + Doctor

Looking forward,

追 (Pursuit)

I will not mince my words but put it point-blank that 2012 will be a challenging year. Full-time work, almost full-time training, and post-graduate exams will take up the bulk of my time - and I foresee the need to deconflict, rationalise, reschedule, and even beg as I try to allocate the right amount of time that each of these priorities deserve. Nonetheless, the relentless pursuit of happyness shall press on, with my paddle and my buddy and me...

What Drives You?

2011-08-15T18:49:00.001+08:00

It’s been more than a month since I started gyrating to the tune of Jazz, and the melody continues to add colour to my otherwise staid life. Much like how Edward in the VW Jetta ad loves keeping his week chockfull of lessons so he can sit in the said car, I like going to training now because I get to drive my Jazz. It might be melodramatic to expound on how the car has completely transformed my life, but that is exactly what has happened, or rather, continues to happen as we speak. No more long MRT journeys where I sometimes fall asleep while standing, or nerve-wrecking experiences where, as Murphy’s Law might have it, cabs just don’t appear at the time you need them most, like during a downpour, or when you are already late. It panders to my control freak nature because I am now in complete charge of my time, not the loud-mouth taxi-driver whose smokes in his vehicle, sneezes into the air-con vent, and rejects your $50 note.

Yet revving a $91K metallic body on the asphalt can be rather stressful, especially when you are fresh out of driving school and have the driving skills of a chimpanzee. I remember sweating buckets just deciding when to filter lanes on an arterial road, and each time I am horned at (either because I’m too slow, or too abrupt), my morale drops. I will say I have improved since, and there are shameful moments which I shall not mention in detail here. Those who have seen my photos will also know that my parking skills remain to be honed. I have had Samaritans waving their hands frantically to tell me I am too close to the adjacent vehicle, only to leave me red-faced and driving off to a far remote corner where I can park slowly and try multiple times without the scrutiny of the public eye. 30 days on and I am still working on it. Those who’ve been in my car will attest to my abysmal parking. Let’s not even begin to mention parallel maneuvering; it’s probably enough to say that the last I did it, was during the practical test.

The fortunate thing about the lack of parking skills is that the deficits can be corrected with repeated practice. I have, however, witnessed irresponsible driving behavior that’ll probably take intense psychotherapy to rectify. Perhaps my luminous green-orange label on the windscreen makes me a perfect bully victim, but taxi drivers (yes, them again) who make a last-minute, close-to-90-degree filter across 3 lanes within 10 meters of the junction, just so he can reach the right-turn lane (and not to mention, blocking my way in the process because the right-turn lane vehicles are not admitting him), make my knuckles crack and hungry for a face to land on. I certainly hope I do not develop these bad habits as I continue on the roads. To balance things up, I have also met drivers who slow down and allow a tentative P-plate vehicle into their lane. Times like this make me want to install some form of LED display at the back so I can flash “Thank you!” at them.

The Jazz has been a great drive thus far, and I am enjoying every single moment in it (minus the road rage ones). In all honesty, I would love to wash it every week. I remember starting off eager, having gone all the way to Marina Square’s Homefix to get the car shampoo, 3M car sponge, microfiber cloth and other branded cleaning essentials. Alas, all these equipment remain untouched in my room. I have never actually got down to clean my Jazz, and I let the occasional torrential rain do the job a water jet would in a car wash. I am ashamed of such nonchalance, yet as an excuse I always quote my car agent who proclaims that the car is meant to serve us, and we should not be slaves to the vehicle, spending hours just to get a showroom-worthy sheen. A part of me thinks that is pure indolence, but a quick survey among other car owners reveal that most of them don’t really bother cleaning the vehicle themselves either. It might therefore be more than a coincidence that every time I pass by a car in the washing bay of my MSCP, I see only a Filipino maid and nobody else within a 10-meter radius. I think my let-the-rain-wash-my-car strategy in our equatorial climate remains pretty sound, thus I do not see the need to invest in a can of car wax or a Leticia counterpart, for now.

Notwithstanding, a bikini-clad lady (who for whatever unfathomable reason decide to coat herself with car shampoo) will be a delicious alternative. =)

Your Vote is Your Voice

2011-04-30T20:57:00.003+08:00

This will be the second time I am voting, and the use of digital media has really changed the husting climate this time. Many articles, photos and videos started circulating in my Facebook and email accounts. Friends I knew for years actually became outspoken, fervent campaigners who want to make Singapore a better place to live and work in. I guess those who've always thought youths are generally apathetic towards politics should reconsider their judgement.

Digital media has certainly made information more accessible, and palatable. I no longer have to plow through a thousand-word editorial on The Straits Times or The Economist to understand what is going on. Instead I visit Mr. Brown for his "Gee Gee Gee Gee Ahruh See" video to get a humorous summary of the issues that have been raised thus far. I applaud all parties for engaging us through these varied platforms, and I believe my decision come May 7 will be one that is better-informed, and more carefully considered.

Yet this very advantage of digital media (of being accessible, updated, and more engaging) have led to such an explosion of information, that I sometimes have difficulty keeping up. It also makes separating the wheat from the chaff an arduous task. Politics aside, we all know the perils of the cyber landscape. There is so much information, yet only some of it is true and reliable, some are half-truths, while the remainder is simply made up of blatant lies. The onus is on the reader to verify the information offered in the article.

The picture becomes more muddled when you add politics to the mix. In an attempt to sell different ideologies, an essay with a political agenda often drift away from being a neutral and objective piece, to one that is saturated with emotive words and rhetoric. Such is how the game called politics is played. It will take a mature electorate to read between the lines and censor all theatrics and word play before finally understanding what the article has to offer, if any.

I have to admit that I am concerned with how mature our first-time, Gen Y voters are. Let's be honest. More than 90% of links I see on Facebook for the past week have been unabashedly pro-opposition. The increased interest on the opposition has been phenomenal, and I have taken advantage of this to understand the opposition candidates better. However I am not certain if such a lopsided representation may inadvertently skew our perception of "ground sentiments". I am very curious to know what the Gen Y voters make out of this. In the same vein (and I agree somewhat) that our local papers have been guilty of pro-government propaganda, TOC and TR (the most quoted websites from which FB articles originate) haven't been exactly balanced either. So I urge all voters to study both sources carefully.

I will now attempt to dissect what a good balanced article should be; and since analogies seem to be the in-thing these days, I will give it a shot:

You want to get a phone, which will become an extremely important device in your daily living. You are given the choice of either an iPhone, or a Blackberry. I prefer the iPhone more, so I want to sell you the idea that the iPhone will be a better choice. A responsible, balanced way to do this, while respecting your right of independent decision, is to tell you what the pros and cons of the iPhone are. So I will probably talk to you about its sleek design, comprehensive apps market, iPod, and lament about lack of Java support etc, then tell you that I can still live with not having Java support and the pros outweigh the cons. I might bring up a thing or two about BB while I'm at it, that it has too many buttons, it looks bulky, and the apps don't look as nice. But I will remind you that some BB models are camera-free so you can bring them to army camps. The final decision is up to you, because you will choose what is best for you.

Unfortunately many popular articles that were shared on FB seem to talk more loudly than sensibly. If they were trying to get you to buy the BB, they will first go into a tirade of how lousy the iPhone is. Then they enter into rhetoric like, "do you want a phone that has a death grip problem?" Duh, who does? The article ends pretty much at that, maybe adding a line that the BB will be a good alternative to the iPhone.

I think I am rambling, but all I want to say is, read the online articles with a discerning eye. Listen out for what both the iPhone/BB can do, because ultimately you are going to use the phone for what it is capable of. Don't be taken in by the unscrupulous salesman with an axe to grind.

To make this possible, my suggestion is to attend the rallies. This is where information will be coming from the horses' mouths, and not from middlemen. Hear directly from Steve Jobs and Apple engineers (since you now have the privilege) on what's so good about the iPhone. Hear directly from Research in Motion on what's so good about the BB. Don't believe tech reviews, just as we know movie reviews are hardly reliable sometimes. Hear from the source. Then, do a test drive (ok enough of driving analogies), but you know what I mean. You can't quite "test-drive" candidates, but think about how their proposals will work out if implemented, then see if you like the outcome.

The next point is want to bring up, is that not all phones are created equal. Just because you die-die don't want an iPhone doesn't mean you will just settle for any Motorola or LG model. Unfortunately, not all shops carry all phone models. You may have a tough choice between iPhone and BB at your shop, so choose wisely. But if your shop only has the iPhone versus the Nokia 3310, it would be rather foolish to choose the latter just because you don't want an iPhone, even though an iPhone will obviously be more useful.

GE 2011 is turning out to be an exciting election, and I have my personal favourites in both the incumbent party, and the opposition. I have always been told to consider both sides of an argument before making a decision or passing judgement, and I will continue to exercise this diligently. And I believe the younger segment of the electorate will be able to do the same.

Your vote is your voice. So speak up and be heard.

Run Monster Run!

2010-12-06T21:10:00.014+08:00

The first marathon experience is such fodder for discussion that a new blog post comes as a natural reflex. Pounding through 42km, with only an AHM under my belt to count for any vague “long-distance” experience, made me exceedingly nervous at the start line. I protected my nipples and my balls, but failed to pay attention to my armpits, which burned during the post-race cold shower. But we’ll save that for later.

I wasn’t really expecting much, but only to complete the race under 5 hours. Anything more, and it would have been an embarrassment, considering that Qian Yi was aiming for 4:45 (and eventually came in 4:05!) The start went off smoothly, and I was rather concerned that my pace may be unsustainable because I was doing good timing until the return leg from East Coast. Right on cue, at the 25km mark, my electrolyte homeostasis went awry, and the right quads stopped listening to me. I have never slobbered so much deep heat in my entire life. Heck. This marathon was the first time ever I used any form of NSAIDs on myself. Not even the time they took out my wisdom tooth and put in stitches in my gums.

I went through all that my friends told me before the race. “Take 1x power gel at every 10km… Take drinks at all stations, especially the 100-plus… It will be painful… Take the bananas… You will just ache for a week after the run, it’s ok…” I followed all the POSITIVE advice religiously. At the 10km mark, Felicia and Bryan overtook me while I slurped up the Lemon Sublime. At the 20km mark, it was Strawberry Banana. Along the way, 2 x bananas were also helpful, though I was seriously hoping for a Filet O’ Fish (ala Roger).

Brynner said “Try not to stop…” I tried as best as I could, but I just had to at the 25km. From then on, it was entirely mental, bearing testimony to what Wei Khyuan said, “For the marathon, it’s not about cardiovascular endurance, but about how your legs are able to take it.” Oh lassitude... a word that sounds nice but fills you with agony...

I literally hobbled through the Marina Golf Course, and tried to run from the Barrage onwards, because I was back on familiar grounds and the end should be somewhere near. Along the way I had fun reading the words of encouragement that runners pinned on their backs. “If found, drag across the finish line.” “I love Daddy (complete with a family photo involving a 4-month old child)” “I know it’s painful. I’m in pain too!” “Help me to do this under 4:20, and my friend will quit smoking.” Every runner has a story to tell, and a motivation to run. For me, it was coercion from friends, and an egoistic need to be part of the 60,000-strong in-crowd.

It was also fun to listen to what fellow runners had to say. Active agers practicing qigong at East Coast were seen congratulating and cheering on a 70+ year old full marathoner in Hokkien “要拼才会赢!” Running buddies were pacing one another and giving advice, “Keep the pace. 2 mins ahead of time.” I ran past this random lady who started to walk, and for some reason, I muttered to her “Come on you can do it,” and she actually replied “Ok!” and started to run. It was a wonderful feeling to be a positive influence. Really.

The funniest moment came when 1 guy literally sang the BEP’s hit “I gotta feeling!” to his friend. Of course instead of gyrating to the party groove, his friend said “Serious?” in the most concerned manner possible, and the first guy stopped shortly thereafter to nurse his cramping calves, accompanied by his buddy who also stopped to help apply deep heat.

患难见真情. It may be clichéd, but this is the truth.

Fast forward to Esplanade Bridge, and I opened up my strides, to reach the finish line at a net time of 4:48. I heard Eve shouting “Good job!” amongst the supporters and I was gleeful, until I actually stopped to walk again to collect my finisher-tee. Lactic acid coursing through the muscles was not a good feeling, trust me. So was unchilled 100-plus that the organizers were handing out. Seriously, there must be more muscles in our lower limbs than what Snell says, because I was cramping up at places I never knew existed…

Post race I made my excruciating walk to the F1 pit building (WHY SO FAR AWAY!!!) to collect my bag, downed a Sub at the Flyer, met Geraldine Cheong (who was here to support Huiliang doing his 3rd marathon!) and went home.

And so, I began by talking about the large patches of abrasions at both armpits, which was particularly tormenting to nurse but fortunately started to epithelialise today. The annoying thing is my left ankle is still hurting when I weight bear. Looks like an ATFL strain, ?tear, and hopefully not a stress fracture *touch wood touch wood!!!*

I need to get back to my DB training soon... RICE RICE RICE!

To end this post, here's a video shared by Sheila on Facebook, which I think sums up succinctly the post-race sentiments of the 19,000 full marathoners (ok maybe not all of them but at least the lousy untrained ones like me). Great job everyone!

What Makes A Champion?

2010-02-03T15:15:00.000+08:00

Those who have the chance should try to watch "Nagano '98 Olympics: Bud Greenspan's Stories of Honor and Glory". I caught it recently on ESPN, and it was inspiring to see the kind of spirit and mettle that makes a champion athlete. I am probably over-quoting this already, but John Keating from Dead Poets' Society said "Sports is a chance for others to push us to excel", and this was exemplified by the stories that were shared during the documentary. My favourite has got to be Bjorn Daehlie's triumphant run in the 50km cross-country skiiing event (which came after his medal finishings in the 10km, 15km, and 4x10km relay events within the same week). His sheer mental tenacity, and his humility after all this achievement, are qualities that all of us can learn a thing or two about.

I guess all of us need some form of inspiration to push us forward during difficult times. For those who need the extra spark during ignition, Bud Greenspan should have the answer for you.

Muddy Monster

2010-02-01T15:05:00.000+08:00

The Urbanathlon turned out to be more boring that I thought. As Brynner summed it up, it was just a race with "things in your way". And I personally felt the mud pit was unnecessary, especially since the organisers made us queue hours just to get washed up and hosed down after the event. Tsk tsk.

Headed back to training, ran another 4.3km, which made me hobble around for the rest of the day. My mud-soaked shoes served her tour of duty well, and I got myself a new pair of GT 2140 the next day! Too bad it didn't come in the "rad and loud" version I preferred. Regardless, it is time to break into these new shoes in preparation for the Singapore Bi.

Amazingly we were ranked 11th in the team catetory despite my horrible timing; which made us wonder if we should try this again next year, although we felt unanimously we probably wouldn't come back if the organisers remain bent on making us muddy but not giving us facilities to clean up. And there was no finisher tee! Grr...

Fortunately I was on leave on Monday so I had the chance to slack and watch the Grammys, which was as boring as ever. Taylor Swift seems to be getting more awards that she deserves, considering how out-of-tune she was during the live performance. And I can't get enough of Beyonce! Album of the Year should have gone to Sasha Fierce!

Oh dear. Just received an sms that there's going to be another test during this posting. Time to hit the books again! In the meantime, I gotta get myself a new DVD player cos there are 2 seasons of Simpsons still waiting for me in the drawer!

By the way, sports make you crave for the weirdest things. I need my Strawberry sundae fix from Macs, NOW!

Boom Boom Pow

2010-01-26T06:53:00.006+08:00

i am not proud of my temper. there are times when i would erupt like a Vesuvius. other times i just rumble in consternation. i just don't like it when things don't go your way due to reasons not within your control. like you losing your entire patient clinical entry just because the computer lost its server connection. or the G3 just refuse to read in a patient who's ABG was as difficult as milking a prune. or the printer jams just when you want to rush and clear the fast track queue. all in all, equipment failure peeves me to no end. it wastes time, effort, and makes me poke the poor man for his second ABG.

which reminds me of Ironic from Alanis. it's like 10,000 spoons, when all you need is a knife. or like 20 boxes of unpowdered gloves, when all you need are powdered ones for a pair a hyperhidrotic hands.

anyway i erupted. i was so pissed the machine said i did not fill the cartridge "to the mark" that i literally poured my second syringe of arterial blood into the channel and made it overflow copiously onto the table. you could imagine me going "wa haha" with a devious grin and two fists in the air as i celebrate my triumph over... erm... a piece of plastic. the ABG was finally read.

cheap thrills aside, i am in dire need of anger management. someone to make me go "om" and delve into the deepest crevices of my inner self, so that i can uproot the origins of my short fuse.

ok i'm too tired to carry on. writing this on shift for the first time. please bear with my grammar.

The Force Is Still Not With Me

2010-01-18T22:18:00.010+08:00

I completed my 8km today in an abysmal timing, about 2 minutes off my personal best.

Which got me thinking during my slow cool-down walk back home what I have become ever since I started this new phase of my life. It's been 3 months (thereabouts) since I left NS to start my MOPEX, and it's been a mixed bag of ups and downs. Firstly was the topsy-turvy schedule that make training routines difficult to plan. In addition I no longer have protected weekends and public holidays to dedicate to training, so I had to scrimp time before (or after) work to do some form of workout. Add to the fact an ED posting isn't exactly a walk in the park, I often head home exhausted (and frequently dozing away on the MRT) and trying to repay my sleep debt.

The next big thing which happened was MCEM A, an exam that literally sucked my life away. You train to feel guilty that you are not studying, and you study to feel bad that you are not training. I never knew dilemmas could be so painful. Either way, I knew $1.1k was too much money to wash down the drain, so I studied so I could pass, and left workout to a later time. I passed MCEM A, but I lost 3kg.

I felt the brunt of this 3kg loss ever since I attempted to get back to my training routine. I don't carry the same weights I used to carry, I don't erg the same timing I used to erg, and I don't run the same speed I used to run. I was, all in all, lousier.

And feeling lousy can affect you in more ways than one. I realised recently that I was grumpier at work, and would be more critical if things didn't go my way. I would get discretely angry at patients who insists on AOR, or outwardly enraged at NSFs who tell me they have PR bleed (on top of their 1/52 old URTI + GE + knee pain + shoulder stiffness) but refuse a PR.

I urgently need an inspiration. Invicitus almost did the trick. But the actors did the Haka so meekly I almost laughed. I need something to pull me out of my couch so I would hit the gym rather than watch History Channel. Something that will scream at me to push myself harder rather than give in to the lazy-bugger excuse that "I am too tired after work".

If only Yoda was around.

Yet at the same time, I count my blessings. I thank my seniors for their guidance, and always looking out for procedures to take me through, and interesting cases for me to see. I truly appreciate it. Sadly I think I lack the mental tenacity to perform well at so many commitments on my plate. I sometimes wish I could be like John who just ride so carefreely after work with his prized bikes, and thoroughly enjoying himself in the process. But I can't. Dragon boat is a team sport and the team is, as cliched as this sounds, as strong as her weakest member. I have to keep up with standards, and I cannot let my team down.

So I sit down in front of my laptop after my run, to pen all these thoughts that ran (no pun intended) through my head just a few minutes ago, in hopes that I can find my inspiration soon.

Perhaps I need to read The Monk who Sold His Ferrari again. For the third time.

Is This It?

2010-01-04T16:24:00.005+08:00

My first post in 2010 will be succinct.

Firstly, there was a 3-month posting drought because I was busy imbibing medical texts for my MCEM. It was neither a sweet dream nor a beautiful nightmare. It was sheer torture. Fortunately, I passed.

Secondly, I think I am burning out, smouldering away in a slow, painful manner. Perhaps I am not disciplined enough to handle so many commitments at one go. Hopefully I can strike a balance soon, whilst remaining on target to achieve the objectives I have set for the new year. The sad thing is, however, my vision seemed somewhat antithetical to what my department has in mind for me, yet I do not have MJ's courage to simply stand up and proclaim “This is it”.

Core value of the month: Fighting Spirit.

Invictus

2010-01-04T15:33:00.004+08:00

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley

Finding The Cure

2009-10-04T18:47:00.004+08:00

Yes, my traineeship has officially started, and I have roamed the grounds with a stethoscope for 3 days now. Fortunately the seniors were helpful and understanding, as they guide and orientate me back to clinical work. 2 years really do make a significant difference, so I urge those who are still in NS to keep up with their medical skills and knowledge.

I made a couple of mistakes on my first day of work, and that totally ruined my mood as I headed home (which also explains my Facebook status). Nonetheless I have picked myself up, and I am moving along, trying to learn as much as I can from the seniors. A special moment came on day 2 of work, when I helped to stitch up the lacerated lip of an elderly lady. She didn't speak much during the consult. Despite the multiple wounds she sustained during the fall, she was quietly resilient. All she did was flinch a little as I inspected the wounds. In the OT, I did what I was trained to do, and completed the T&S. She was very cooperative, and hardly moved as I put in the 10 stitches. After I removed the sterile drapes around her, and told her the stitching was done in Hokkien, she broke her silence, and said a simple “Thank you”, in Cantonese. I didn't know how to reply in her dialect, and I all could do was pat her hands, and said “It's ok” in Hokkien. She probably didn't see my smile, concealed by the surgical mask, but at the point in time, I was reminded of something I told the panel during my admissions interview: "Being a doctor, is about helping people."

I am not about to sermonise about ethics and the idealism of being a healthcare professional here. All I want to say is, many times, we lose track of what our profession is ultimately about. It is a tough job, and contrary to popular belief, doesn't pay as well as you may think. Most, if not all, of us can share stories of horrible calls where cases never stop coming in, cannulas never stop dropping out, and nurses don't seem to be as helpful as they should be. Understandably we begin griping about the system, and some of us eventually question why we signed up for this in the first place, then move on to supposed "greener" pastures. I have done my fair share of griping and complaints. I have had my fair share of doubts as I wonder if this was the wrong job for me. Yet, once in a while, moments like a simple word of thanks wake you up amidst the distraction of self-doubt. It reminds you that, you are there simply to help; either to cure, or just to alleviate pain. No, I am not expecting “Thank you” cards from every patient I see. Whether the patient lets you know or not, as long as you know you have helped him in one way or another, because of what you are trained for, you will be happy.

I realise what I have written may seem highfalutin, but this is as best as I can express what I felt that day, which I thought would be useful to share with my friends. I am not a noble man. I know that when the crunch comes, I will still complain about unreasonable people (either patients or colleagues), then wonder, amongst other things, why can't I just be a simple Starbucks barista and have time for my dragon boat. Nonetheless, I hope I will be able to revisit this post whenever I feel bogged down by work, and make myself happier after that.

And I hope it'll work for you too. Either that, find your own happy moment, and record it down.

All the best, everyone.

And The Plot Thickens...

2009-09-29T14:16:00.005+08:00

Ris Low continues to hog the headlines, and as I read more about her, I become increasingly disappointed, and somewhat betrayed, to learn that my empathy has been misplaced all along. Perhaps she wanted the crown - and the recognition - so badly that she remains deluded and incapable of grasping the gravity of the situation. Not only is she guilty of credit card fraud (and imperfect English), she now faces charges from the Miss World Singapore organisers because she has conveniently omitted the fact that she was previously convicted, and this would have disqualified her right from the word Go!, though in a strange twist of fate, she actually went on to clinch the title, complete with the ignominy of leopard preens and matching jeens.

Considering all the above, I now join the growing group of dissidents who feel she should give up her crown. It is quite unfortunate that she has to bear such public scrutiny at this young age, but then again, to take part in such pageants only mean that she craves such attention, though things did not quite turn out the way she probably would have envisaged. Let's just hope she picks up the pieces from here and go on to lead a meaningful, and honest, life.

The other story that dominated headlines, besides Hamilton's flawless victory on the Singapore F1 tracks, was how Taufik messed up our national anthem. I didn't exactly catch this part of the broadcast, so I am not certain how obvious the error was. Honestly though, how many of us non-Malay speaking people truly understood what our anthem meant? I believe Taufik made an honest mistake, and he has apologised sincerely for it; something which Ris Low should learn, instead of questioning why news of her fraud came out in the first place.

Exciting weekend otherwise, watching F1 and Beyonce in the comfort of my home. Though, for the same reasons, I have not learnt anything more for my exams except that Wellen syndrome is highly specific for critical stenosis of the proximal LAD. Huh?

Yes. I am actually stressed over my exams now...

Fallen From Grace

2009-09-25T22:25:00.006+08:00

And here we go again. Miss Ris Low, who was in the center of controversy for her less-than-perfect enunciation, returns to the limelight (in yet another ignominous manner) when reports revealed that she was convicted of credit card fraud in May 09 and was sentenced to 24 months of supervised probation. In the middle of all this, she was crowned Miss World Singapore, and is scheduled to visit South Africa for the international pageant. You would have wondered why she was allowed to participate (let alone win) the competition in the first place, and as it turns out, the organisers knew nothing of it until she was due to sign the contract.

Whilst it is heartening to hear that she is repentant and would "definitely would not want to make the same mistake" if she could "turn back time", the dilemma now, is whether she should give up her crown (either voluntarily or by order of the organisers).

Winners of beauty pageants are embodiments of virtues; they are figures whom girls will admire and look up to. Arguably, we do not expect perfect "Stepford ladies" to take the victory walk all the time. A little trip down the runway, a tear-jerking story of how imperfect her life was and how she overcame adversities, make for a human being that we all can relate to on a personal level, and it is exactly these shortcomings that will make a beauty queen (or any public figure) endearing.

For Miss Low, the story is not so straightforward. She first came under public scrutiny (and was accused of setting a bad example on spoken English) for her fashion statements on "leopard prings with khaki gins". Then she demonstrated criminal tendencies with her fraud charges. I applaud her for remaining steadfast amidst all these setbacks and embarassment. She had made mistakes in the past, she was suitably punished, and now she is simply pursuing a dream. Yet, she must not forget that she is now a Miss World Singapore. I do not think organisers of the international pageant will take it kindly to know that one of the participants is a convict, because it is, after all, a pageant, a celebration of the strength and beauty of the female spirit.

I am not saying that offenders will never have a chance to raise their heads again. However, for Miss Low, she has a tough case at hand, because of the title she now holds. It is entirely understandable why netizens are hurling abuses at her, because she is now a public figure who is about to represent the nation, so she has social responsibilities to fulfil. She needs to protray herself as someone who has fallen because of an wilful act, but is now picking herself up to walk towards her goals, head held high.

As you would have now surmised, I adopt a rather soft stance towards Miss Low. I give her the benefit of the doubt; that she is probably a nice girl by nature. And she has to work a lot harder to meet the responsibilities that she now shoulders: she will be an ambassador for Singapore, so she must speak better English (no more "boomz" or "studying steel", and if I want to split hairs, you don't quite "major" in a diploma), and she has to show that she has indeed mended her ways since her criminal past. Let's not condemn her just because she made a mistake. Instead, let's now put her to the task, and challenge her to rise above our expectations.

I await with bated breath, what her next move in the public eye will be.

*Afternote (added 26 Sep 09): Of course, rules are rules. The fact that Miss Low lied to the organisers that she has never been convicted before, is a punishable act. If she gets stripped of her title, it will only be fair. If the organisers are lenient, and let her keep the title, it would be unfair to the runner-up. I last heard that they are "going legal", so I guess Miss Low will be embroiled in more lawsuits soon.

Food, Sports and Booze...

2009-09-22T17:04:00.009+08:00

In case you guys were wondering, this blog is not dead. The long weekend was an exhilarating but tiring one. Went clubbing on Sunday, took the whole of Monday to get over my, erm, hangover, and went out to gym today. Simple things for a simple man. Ok perhaps clubbing isn't so simple, considering I remembered imbibing red wine and champagne like what you do to Gatarode after a race, and then getting really tipsy, followed by a random round of people hugging. But I must say the music, the crowd, and my friends were absolutely fantastic, making it a thoroughly enjoyable experience, albeit in an inebriated way. Nope. The insectosaurus is hardly a party animal, but when the atmosphere is right, you gotta let your hair down.

There were quite a few pieces of sensational news over the weekend which I had wanted to write about, but in between being sword bearer for my friend, dragon boat training and clubbing, I lost the time and energy for it.

First, there was Malaysia's desperate attempts to stake claim at chicken rice and chilli crab - amongst other things - which spurned a whole series of articles about how the nationalities of food can never be accurately determined. This reminded me of a scene from the play MenApause, which claims, on the contrary, that all foods come from India, like how a pizza is actually a hard-crusted masala thosai. Malaysia is so rich in her heritage, cultural diversity and natural landscapes (even Survivor did their pilot series there), she has much to sell rather to harp that "the nasi lemak belongs to me" in their publicity pamphlets.

Next we have the confirmation that Renault has indeed crashed into the wall deliberately to give Alonso an unfair advantage (and eventually the win) for the 2008 F1 leg in Singapore. It goes to show how far people will go, even at the risk of their lives, to get an edge. John Keating from Dead Poets Society said, "Sports is a chance for others to push us to excel." We have seen how Usain Bolt burnt the tracks with his record breaking sprint, and the list of accomplished sportsmen and sportswomen goes on, with familar names like Michael Phelps, Carl Lewis, Lance Armstrong, Roger Federer, and perhaps less familiar ones like Sergey Bubka (as our Coach always love to quote). These figures have inspired generations of athletes to challenge their limits on the playing field, and showed the world, in the words of Michael Jordan, that "limits, like fears, are just illusions".

Yet at the same time we have doping incidents, dramatic "divers" on the pitch, and the lesser known Bloodgate, where rugby player Tom Williams used a red dye capsule to feign a blood injury (not unlike Lady Gaga during her Paparazzi number in VMA 09) and in turn allow the team to receive an unjust player substitution. Bloodgate is further complicated by the fact that Tom Williams was actually pressurised by the team's top brass to use the capsule, and he was asked to undergo a real cut on the lip by a scapel-wielding doctor to make the whole incident authentic.

All involved have been persecuted, including the doctor who agreed to corroborate with the team. Yet, what cannot be undone, is how all these incidents have tainted the reputation of sports, which originally was an event designed to celebrate the feats of the strongest and the fastest. The Olympic Games used to be attended by athletes in the buff, who challenged one another with nothing but their raw strength, grit and determination. Nowadays, performance enhancing suits in the pool separate record holders from mere participants, and as records continue to crash, you wonder if it is meaningful anymore because the athlete with the right sponsors, and not the athlete who trained the hardest, will go home with the gold, the fame, and the glory, at the end of the day. I am not against technology, but the playing field should be level, especially for major international races. FINA has made the first move by making new swimsuit specifications, and I await the new season to see what all effects this will have.

We all still need our heroes; our Muhammad Ali, our David Beckham, or Tao Li, to inspire ourselves onwards. We don't need orchestrated crashes, various forms of steroids, or even blood capsules, in our games. We want real sweat, and real blood, to make us believe that achieving the unimaginable, like Team Hoyt, is possible.

Feel like clubbing again... dang... alcohol is addictive.

*In case you are wondering, I am not against technology, nor am I hoping that Maria Sharapova will start playing tennis in the buff (ok maybe a little for this one). But, it depends on the sport. If it's F1, I am all for higher budgets and faster cars, because the race is about the engines, the carbon fibre, and the driver that learns to wield the vrooming monster. But if it's swimming and you get faster simply by putting on a polyurethane suit, it defeats the entire purpose of racing in the pool.

Operationally Ready

2009-09-19T11:03:00.005+08:00

For the first time in 2 years, I am now carrying a pink card in my wallet. Yes, I am now an NSman, and I have had a fruitful time in my unit, picking up skills as a staff officer which I would otherwise not be able to acquire while working in hospitals. Of course it wasn't smooth sailing (no puns intended, for those who are familiar with codewords); there were challenges along the way, and times when I had to learn things the hard way. Nonetheless, I am sure I emerged, though bruised, a wiser man, and I thank everyone who have contributed to the meaningful experiences I had.

I was clearing up my table 2 days ago when I unearthed the 六五英雄传, a nondescript little blue book that chronicled our days as cadets in training. It then dawned upon me that we have come a long way since then. So many of my friends have exchanged marriage vows with their loved ones, and some others are already fathers. Many more have passed exams and are poised for the next phase of their career.

I guess I have been somewhat apathetic about things during NSF, for I have yet to take Part 1 of MCEM, and I have not even started on my driving practicals. Yes, I know very well that sloth is one of the 7 deadly sins, and the evil grips of procrastination have rooted me to the ground. Yet, during these 2 years, I have embarked on exciting adventures. I started on dragonboat, I did a Grand Slam, and now I'm in the YEC. I am prepared to take my craft to a higher level, though I understand fully that my career should probably take centerstage. This is why I'm religiously studying my Kalra now, and as I would like to tell my friends, I wish I could just burn the whole book and drink the ashes in Milo to acquire all the knowledge in between the covers.

As Celine Dion crooned (you will soon begin to realise I like making references to random songs), a new day has come. Here's wishing all the best to my fellow platoon mates who have (or are going to) ORD. Enjoy your block leave, and see you guys in hospitals!

Girl, Interrupted

2009-09-17T16:53:00.013+08:00

For those who are still unaware, Kanye West has been universally condemned for his uncouth behaviour during the 2009 MTV Video Music Awards, when he stormed the stage and interrupted Taylor Swift's acceptance speech to proclaim that Beyonce should have clinched the Best Female Award instead. This left Swift visibly shaken, though it was heartwarming to see Beyonce inviting her back on stage later in the show to complete her speech.

It is somewhat befitting to note that Kanye was snubbed in all his nominated categories, and celebrities were quick to show their disdain towards the hip-hop artiste, often in the form of unceremonious, expletive-enriched Twitter updates. President Obama joined the crowd and called him a "jackass" as he was speaking to a CNBC reporter. It has been postulated that Kanye was tipsy (and emboldened) following an overdose of cognac, yet from his track record of wild behaviour, you will find it difficult to exonerate him on the simple basis of inebriation.

I doubt he had recovered from his stupor when he penned the following apology on his blog for Swift, which had to take hours to manifest: "I'm soooooo sorry to Taylor Swift. I like the lyrics about being a cheerleader and she's in the bleachers! I'm in the wrong for going on stage and taking away from her moment! Beyoncé's video was the best of this decade!"

He remained similarly confused when he replaced the earlier apology with "I feel like Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents when he messed up everything and Robert De Niro asked him to leave. That was Taylor's moment and I had no right in any way to take it from her. I am truly sorry."

Contrary to what Elton John may have believed, I don't think "sorry" is the hardest word for Kanye, because he is able to exercise the apology with absolute nonchalance, perhaps even with a dash of artful sarcasm. You can't doubt the talent that he is, as a recording artiste. But if he remains recalcitrant and continues to draw flak with these controversies, his demise will be nigh. This is also high time for 19-year-old Taylor Swift to understand that show business is tough business, although following this incident she could have attracted a new legion of supporters who pitied her for the embarrassment she had to endure, standing dumbfounded for 10 seconds in an elegant, sequined dress while on live, national TV.

In other news, I am thoroughly bitter to learn that tickets for F1 Rocks on 26 Sep 09 have sold out. Grr...

Mind Your Language

2009-09-15T18:48:00.012+08:00

Recently, the infamous interview of Ris Low, Miss Singapore World 2009, has been making the rounds on Facebook and other social networks. And when Mr. Brown spoofs the whole thing, you know it's big news. In between laughing at "zipbras", the diploma in "horse-pee-telly-tee" and "boomz", I sometimes feel we probably should not be too harsh on the girl because, honestly, I think many of us Chinese-educated folks went through the "leopard prings" phase as well.

I came from an all-boys school, taking Higher Chinese for first language. My parents know as much English as an architect would know about the life cycle of the red-eyed tree frog, so Mandarin is naturally my mother tongue and only tongue. I spoke a smattering of English, and I struggled to keep up with my classmates during PSLE.

My vocabulary was limited, due in part I rarely read in English, and my only source of vocabulary was from popular media. I watched Candid Camera a lot and I laughed so much, when the question paper asked what candid meant, I shaded option D for "funny". (I am not kidding, this was a real question, and in retrospect, I felt the setter was rather devious to put "funny" as an option.) In Primary 1, when the school bully spat in my face, I went to the teacher and wailed, "Mrs. Goh! He spit... er... mouth water on my face!"

Yup. They didn't teach the word "saliva" on Sesame Street, nor on Candid Camera.

In Sec 2, I met a friend in the Students' Council. He was the direct opposite of me; a typical "banana man" who looked Chinese but spoke Ang Moh. During our retreat to Malaysia, he sat next to me on the coach, and got me conversing in English. I started grabbing for words so that I can at least answer in a complete sentence. Fortunately he was a friendly chap, and at least didn't look disturbed at my dismal command in English. And this was how I seriously started to build up my foundation in English.

I went through secondary school memorising arcane English words to help expand my vocabulary. I would write archaic things like "the wisps of filamentary clouds floated across the welkin, and the balmy zephyr caressed the blades of grass on the verdant meadow". Rest assured I never touched these words again, not even when preparing for my SAT.

My days in JC changed everything. Forced by circumstance I started to converse more in English, and GP was so demanding I had to imbibe Newsweek and BBC religiously. Studying the SAT word list also helped, though words like "piebald" are not really that useful to pick up.

As such, I fully understand the plight of Miss Low. Who knows, if you get her started in Mandarin, she will inundate you with the profound teachings of Confucius, and urge you to discuss the merits of Romance of the Three Kingdoms.

Let's laugh with her. Not at her. =)

*Afternote: learning English by memorising individual words is a risky affair. Like any language, there are nuances that you will fail to appreciate if you do not understand the exact meaning of the word. So, do use the thesaurus with caution. I am saying this because, I once used "eulogise" on a living person, when all I really wanted to do was praise him for his good work. You've been warned.

Evil Little Things

2009-09-14T19:09:00.004+08:00

I get asked a lot of times why I don't eat raisins. Heck, I don't even wish to smell or touch raisins. As I have alluded to in my profile, I cannot get near these wrinkly dried things because they are fatal to my very being. They induce nausea and possibly vomiting if any one of them actually entered my system. It is not a physiological allergy, but it is definitely a mental aversion. Raisins, besides being wrinkly and dried, are also sticky and squishy. How can anything that look so putrid be suitable for human consumption?

I know I sound like a loser getting all squeamish over a dried fruit, but I really do not know where this fear of mine originated from. I remember however that this definitely started since I was young, because there were times I had to skip breakfast (and get my mom all piqued) because she bought raisin bread in the morning. Perhaps during my formative years bullies used to throw raisins at me. Hmm... don't think this story exonerates me from the "loser" label... Oh well, perhaps my brain is just hard-wired the way it is.

Since then I have learnt to avoid raisins from all nooks and crannies, including all varieties of apple crumbles and unlabelled muffins. Prunes are a giant version of raisins (pomologists may foul me on technicalities but hey, prunes are HUGE and wrinkly, aren't they?). Fortunately these are easier to spot because of their size, so I have never quite gagged on one of these before. I almost died last year when the team served up an imaginative (boy, ain't I good with euphemisms) raisins + onions sandwich during Regatta. I will always remember their gleeful anticipation of the impending torment as I bite into the bread. Sun-Maid will probably describe the bite to "release the natural goodness of raisins in bountiful bursts", but I will just call the whole experience a ghastly one.

I teared, not because I'm a wuss. But because of the onions.

By extension, I avoid cranberries, blueberries, sour plums and all other sorts of similar foods that may be wrinkly or dried. And I remain a happy man, so I don't see what's wrong with that.

Interestingly, raisins.com bring you to a site selling bikinis. I wonder why... ;P

The Week Ahead

2009-09-14T12:30:00.002+08:00

Was a little annoyed with training yesterday, but I guess all teams have their ups and downs. I am confident our team will be able to pick up the pieces and move ahead in the right direction, so here's looking forward to that come weekend.

There are other things to look foward to this week: it's less than 5 days to my ORD, I am clearing leave before that, and I will be a sword bearer for my friend's wedding at Rasa Sentosa.

The problem with taking leave is, sometimes you have no idea what you want to do. Everyone else is hard at work or studying, and you are the only one with the luxury of lounging in front of TV, watching re-runs of Mythbusters or America's Next Top Model. Once in a while you feel compelled to start studying, but after realising you cannot even remember what an Austin Flint murmur is, you give up and head to the gym (alone!) instead of imbibing more of Kalra.

I gotta start clearing my table (stacked chokeful with copies of Men's Health, Pioneer, Pointer, unwrapped SMJ and wedding invitation letters), otherwise studying on bed will continue to be a distracting, unproductive affair. And I gotta start catching up on news, because Goggle Reader is so efficient, you stockpile enough unread news to jam a server if you forget to log in for just a weekend.

As the Black Eyed Peas loudly proclaimed, let's get it started...

Lycanthropy Gone Wrong

2009-09-12T21:59:00.006+08:00

I wanted to keep to a maximum of 1 post per day for this new blog, lest I get carried away and allow the loquacious side of me to rear its ugly head. However, this issue needs to be addressed urgently.

When I first heard Shakira's She Wolf on the radio, I was mesmerised. A catchy tune, interesting lyrics, complete with a sensual howl in the chorus (repeated at least 3 times in the song) elicit responses oysters and Tongkat Ali are probably capable of. Okay I may have exaggerated a bit but the bottomline is, it was a refreshing change since her last sensation about hips that always speak the truth.

Then, just now on MTV Asia, I saw the words She Wolf emblazoned across my newly acquired flat screen TV, and boy was I aroused, erm, I mean, excited. Finally, I get to see the music video! Unfortunately, what went on for the next 3 minutes was a painful experience. There she was, dressed in spandex, dancing with an impressive flexibility but in a way that was distasteful and resembled a worm, a spider, a fish, but not a wolf. Why Shakira, why?! Why do you have to spoil a song like this?! Why can't you hire Jonas Akerlund and do something Oscar-worthy like Lady Gaga's Paparazzi? Come on, she was dancing in crutches and it still looked decent! You were just in spandex, a short short translucent black skirt, and gyrating all the wrong parts of your body!

End of announcement.

*rest assured it is uncharacteristic of me to go into a tirade like this, but some artistes simply push the "sex sells" envelope a little too far... tsk tsk.

Cocaine Gives You Wings!

2009-09-12T20:54:00.006+08:00

Clement's obsession with the horny goat weed reminded me of our team's experience with drugs. I was in Austria last year for work and chanced upon the Red Bull Cola. Our team is seriously addicted to Red Bull, so I thought this would be an interesting item to bring back to Singapore, just in time for the 5-crew race by the way.

It received mixed reviews from the guzzlers, with some saying it tasted like medicated oil, whilst others just can't get enough of it. It came as a surprise when it was later reported that each can of Red Bull Cola contains trace amounts (0.13 mcg) of cocaine, due in part to the use of coca leaves, which will probably explain why all 12 cans disappeared after a couple of hours, and Roger was left asking if we can get more of this stuff locally.

Energy drinks have never managed to please everyone, and I personally had a near-death experience with Red Bull. This bovine-inspired drink was meant to give me wings but I ended up clawing my way to the finish line, because I had to endure bad palpitations along the way. Fortunately I lived to tell the tale, but caffeine pretty much never entered my life again, except maybe in the form of a grande mocha frappucino.

This explains why I stick to Milo for energy, raw egg optional. After all, "it's marvellous what Milo can do for you".

Just Do It?

2009-09-11T12:41:00.001+08:00

Registration for the Nike Human Race has finally opened, though I'm not certain if I'll be participating this year. The experience last year was horrible, starting with a vexing wait for race packs, though fortunately we met Geraldine in the queue (poor girl she was in line for more than 2 hours and nursing a running nose at the same time) and we handed her 8 IDs at one go, much to the ire of those behind her who had no qualms making their feelings known with folded arms, uprolled eyes, and the reptilian "tsk", complete with a fearsome frown. Then came the actual race day where a preceding downpour made Clarke Quay so wet I was sliding my way along and making sure I negotiate turns like how a learner driver would on his 12th driving test attempt. It did not help that I downed 1x McChicken, 1x Fillet Burger and 1x Small Iced Milo before flag-off, thinking I need to carbo-load after dragonboat training in the morning. Fortunately I did not regurgitate any of those, and as expected, completed the race in an abysmal timing.

The only draw for the race was a Nike bottle that came with the race pack, though I wonder if Nike would repeat this feat, considering that the registration fees are now lower compared to last year. I certainly hope Nike would re-plan the race route, otherwise running past beer-guzzlers and Hooters can be rather distracting.

Of course if I miss this, I will have no more running events for the rest of the year, following my AHM attempt last month. I did not sign up for Stan Chart because I procrastinated for too long and 50,000 runners clicked the "Submit" button faster than me; though my official reason is I am not a New Balance fan. I may have to eat my words if the race and finisher tees turn out to be must-have collectors' items.

In related running news, my Asics GT2120, which have served me well for the past year, needs a makeover, or should I say, a complete replacement. I am quite certain I will stick to Asics because it has seen me through many exciting events (except, obviously, the swim leg for Singapore Biathlon) and has never given up on me. Not exactly a shoe geek but I am eyeing the GEL-NIMBUS 11 with IGS Adaptive Technology simply because it sounds cool, and although I have no idea what it means I am sure it will work magic like how the NIMBUS 3000 did for Harry Potter.

Time to rob the bank...

Flashback

2009-09-11T11:00:00.001+08:00

For those who are unaware, I used to keep a blog at surge-on.blogspot.com, speaking in the form of herbivorous zebra from Uzbekistan. This schizotypal tendency unsettled me a little, which is why I transmuted to something that at least looks a bit more like me, and is decidedly omnivorous.

I look forward to more exciting posts ahead, and I thank all for getting bitten by this monster.