Why I try to be green but still drive a car...

Recently, I met an old church friend at a wedding that I haven't seen in ages and he remarked to me he still remembered a story I wrote - all those months ago - about reducing one's carbon footprint, by making some little changes to one's daily life.

I told him my interest in the environment was a fairly recent thing and after some light bantering, and he asked me how that was going, I told the group of friends present I now drive very slowly to assauge my guilt of driving a car. We all laughed.

Then, lately, jokes aside, random criticisms about the fact I drive a car - or in general, criticism about people in environment-related industries who do drive - keeps surfacing at various occasions that now I finally feel I have the need to write what I really feel about the whole issue, no doubt something that recent environment converts must struggle to deal with to a certain extent.

First off, I've never professed to be an environmentalist - or an activist for that matter. I am painfully aware of the limitations of my green credentials. Though I do admit when I first was converted into the green cause, my over-zealousness and enthusiasm for my new found "religion" did cause me to - at several occasions - proclaim quite loudly my disgust for the way certain people around me lived: the obvious selfishness, blatant materialism and I-don't-care-about-the-world-so-what kind of people.

I have since learned to keep my thoughts to myself. And I certainly don't preach, save nagging at my brother for leaving his computer on 24/7 365 days of the year.

Before this year - I think the awareness happened somewhere around February or March - I frankly never really gave the environment much thought. But covering the topic, and meeting the people who care regularly on my jobs, have greatly inspired me to change some bits of my life. I won't go into how I've changed my lifestyle, there's no better person to judge my actions than myself, and I recognise the limitations of what I can do.

So on the issue of cars - and it is a point of contention for many - or my car specifically, I only defence was that I got it last year, at a time where I didn't care very much for my footprint and was none the wiser for the guilt it'll later cause me.

The next idea I'm trying to articulate is a little difficult to explain. Let me borrow NUS's Assoc Prof Lee's words: he told me in an interview before, it's very hard to get people to care about the environment, if it means sacrificing their present way of life. The only way, to achieve mass awareness, or results, is really devising ways - using technology and what-nots - that people can continue to live their lives at current comfort levels, but in a manner that is still sustainable.

The point is I don't think it's a realistic expectation for people to think that if someone cares for the environment, he or she has to live like a hippie in a makeshift caravan, wear tatty clothes and live miserably. It's never going to be possible, and there will never be enough people who will be convinced. The world's best bet is finding ways to support a certain comfort level that man has achieved, while doing it in a sustainable way. Humans are after all, humans. After fighting for progress and technological discoveries to make our life more convenient, it is not realistic to expect humankind to revert to the old horse-drawn carriage days of yore.

The world will not give up its cars. But hybrid vehicles, cars that run on fuel cells, biofuels etc, can go some way in reducing that footprint and in a decade's time, these vehicles will be the norm. Technology will help us to live sustainably, cities of the future - like the eco-city in Tianjin - will be built in a fashion that does away with the need to drive in the first place.

So for people like me, who live in a non-eco-city and out in the sticks, and whom if without a car, would take one and a half hours to get to work on the bus, it now becomes a toss-up between making a great big loss on a purchase I made before I started to care - and giving up a mode of transport that makes me highly efficient at work.

So the sad truth I've been forced to accept, for myself, is I can't give up my car. So now you know. Work is too important to me. And so is my sanity in this crowded, human-infested island.

Given the circumstances, there are a few next-best plans I can formulate, among them is for me to downgrade to a more economical vehicle, which I am trying to do - or wait till I can afford a greener, hybrid vehicle. Or wait till I can afford to rent an apartment that is nearer work. Or in 4 and a half years time, go live in a little village in Britain where everything is accessible by foot within a mile's radius.

Either way, being environmentally-aware is a work in progress. It's not something that can be achieved overnight. There's always more you can do, things you can save, differences you can make, however small. But I've since learned to kill my zealousness in converting, or at least trying to infect people around me to this cause. Many of them - who refuse to see the goodness in little actions, however small, and who always focus on the negative, as if in doing so, it magnifies their ego and self-righteousness - misinterpret such efforts anyway.

For those disparaging, discouraging individuals - who sit in their ivory towers, who think they are too-cool-for-school for any causes, and with their noses turned up at others - I suggest some navel-gazing at how miserable their own lives must be for them to be so bitter. And for people who encounter such people, don't let them get you down.

So yes, I drive a car. Yes, I'm still trying to be green. I'm not being hypocritical. I'm just human. And at least... I'm still trying.

The Self-Righteous, Moralistic Newsmaker

So once again I'm on the afternoon shift and everyday I tell myself I finally have the time to write so I really must make an effort.

But once again the long list of "to-dos" swamp my efforts till finally I think I have to write - if only for a peace of mind. Or I'll end up tossing and turning in bed again like last night, staring into my curtains, quietly illuminated by the faint street night lights outside our home, with my mind in turmoil, wandering to numerous places but never quite finding that peace.

So there's one thing that really riled me this week that I should really get off my chest. And here, I present you, the profile of The Self Righteous, Moralistic Newsmaker.
This is a person that takes cheap shots at people around them to justify their high-minded, idealistic notions when really - they should make more of an effort to know exactly what they are talking about, and take a step back to look at the bigger picture.

The context of this: I was looking for people to interview for a particular story last week, involving a change in policy by a state landlord, who has revised one of its systems to push out some popular state properties in the form of bidding.

After asking around, a helpful colleague of mine gave me a contact to call, so I did. And that was when I made mistake number 1, don't interview someone who is relatively poor and rents a $700 flat, when you are writing about a story involving properties that rent for thousands of dollars. Note for future ref: Interview someone who can relate to the story. (I didn't know he was an unsuitable newsmaker.)

I am not rich myself, and often struggle to pay ALL my bills - having fought for and won my independence to live away from my parents (WITHOUT getting married) - and still have a decent life. So I know how the poor (or the relatively poor) often can feel victimised more so than others in situations where they feel they are compromised, so I can almost forgive this newsmaker - let's call him Mr SR - for being so ignorant.

Basically, to cut the story short, literally - my story was about the state landlord selecting some popular properties - like the colonial black & white bungalows highly sought after because of their spacious grounds, colonial architecture and reasonable rents - for a new bidding system, where anyone in the public domain can bid for it.

It had said properties that only cost a few hundred, or the low thousands to rent out, wouldn't be affected because it simply isn't worth the effort and cost to put it through a bidding system. (This, he did not comprehend and immediately talked like the bidding system was a threat to his being able to pay only $700 for a 1-bedroom flat.)

And to be honest, knowing the market, and how some of these lovely big bungalows get hogged by one same family for centuries because they pass it on to their mother, brother, uncle, sister, grandmother and cousin in law of a friend's, I was objectively in favour of it, because it sounded like a fair, good idea - although I know these properties would never be in my reach.

It makes logical sense, in the free market, for whoever really needs it and is willing to pay for it, to be able to live in such a property. The true value of how much the property is rented for, will be decided by market forces in the free-economy. That's how markets have worked for centuries. Unless you were living in North Korea.

So comes Mr SR and his high-minded views, no doubt, groomed by the highly-singular American-centric education, who told me in the interview he thought it was a bad idea.

Fair enough, I agreed. Everyone has their opinion.

But instead of taking his quotes down meekily, and saying bye politely, (as he probably expected me to do) I decided to engage him in some friendly discussion about a pilot exercise of the new bidding system, which has already taken place - which has proven that the bids were pretty much in tandem with the market rate - something he had a gripe with: he insisted that the bidding system will artificially drive up the market.

So very politely, I told him that the pilot has proved his theory wrong, so what does he think?

He had nothing to say, and begrudgingly said, well I guess then.. ok

Excuse me, what kind of a reaction or quote is that? You want me to print that?

After ensuring that I got his details, I hung up and thought nothing much of the whole conversation and proceeded to file my story.

Good intro, background, explanation, one negative voice, one positive voice. Okay, done. I had better things to do with my weekend.

Then I found out on Monday that Mr SR had written a whole blog post dedicated to me in which he accused me of 1. being pushy during the interview and 2. towing the government line and 3. toning down his remarks in my story.

I was livid.

Not only because of the most obvious reason - I was extremely polite to him in my conversation. For him to accuse me of being pushy simply because I was challenging his view really reflected his own insecurities and own self-righteous mental superiority - or rather, his perception of his moral and mental superiority, which in my opinion, was more incredibly flawed than anything else.

But also because anyone who knows me knows I'm the most anti- government-towing reporter ever to breathe, and I always write my stories in a critical tone that more often than not, elicits a request from somewhere up above to "tone myself down".

I tried to forget about it after a brief discussion with T and after defending myself, I didn't give it any more thought. But last night, tossing and turning in bed, this was one of the day's events that kept playing in my head, and the more I thought about it, the angrier I felt.

After so many "toning down" requests, for a puny little American self-righteous prat to tell me I "toned down" his remarks just left me absolutely fuming.

What does he expect me to write, besides the factual truth, which I wrote? Oh, because I didn't sensationalise his objection, that is "toning it down"???
"Mr SR vehemently objected to the change in policy because he's afraid that the $700 flat he lives in might no longer be so cheap". D'oh.

In fact, thinking back, the only insightful quote he offered me was that he thought the bidding system will drive prices up, and price people out of the market. He kept repeating that like a broken record, never really offering any insight to why he is convinced that is the only outcome. Again, I think this has to do very much with the fact he thought people like him will be affected and booted out of a home.

Oh, did I mention also that the new system doesn't actually affect his property at all so all this "I'm so scared of losing my apartment, let's protect the low and middle-income group" crap really seemed like self-centred dribble to me...

So T tells me he's a liberalist and believes in rent control. Hello? Is he stupid? Or just naive? Liberalism and rent control never went together. In fact, American = mother of all capitalist/free market-economy countries = anti-thesis of rent control = against everything that is not controlled or determined by the free market. I was stupefied that an American was saying this... perhaps he should spend his time re-learning the simple basics/ABCs of economics instead of ranting about something he clearly has little understanding of?

I am just absolutely flummoxed by the naivety and ignorance by certain people sometimes who are so quick to judge and jump on their high horse.

On what basis did he have the right to say I was towing the government line.

Because my story was mildly positive?

It wasn't like a chirpy oh-what-a-great-scheme story, but a hey-look, some-people-might-actually-have-a-go-at-living-at-a-colonial-state-property story which was meant to INFORM.

I had no hidden agenda. And I certainly wasn't towing ANY government agenda.

It irks me that so many people have this "cop-out" - oh, ST, reporter, government line. I am beyond trying to engage friendly conversation with such people who only superficially understands the industry. It's just a bloody waste of my time.

So back to the story: if you asked me, frankly, what I thought of the scheme, I would tell you I thought it was a good one - people have more chance at going at these elusive properties. BUT I also thought the scheme probably needs to be refined down the stages to make sure prices are not artificially inflated, or to address any unexpected concerns it might throw up.

But as stated in my story, the new system is only in its infancy stages, with VERY few - read, FIVE properties out of the millions in Singapore - to go online next month, so that the system can be tweaked.
It's not hard and fast. It's not an earth-shattering, Budget-announcement policy change. And it certainly doesn't jeopardize any political idealism one might stubbornly cling on too: It's a freaking property story for goodness sake. Not a let's-look-at-the-underlying-political-idealism-of-this-new-property-system analysis or thesis.

It surprises me that this 29-year-old MR SR can really be so wonderfully quick to point out flaws in our systems, our newspaper, our country - When the fact that he is here, lives here, on CHEAP, RENTED, SUBSIDISED STATE property, means that he is feeding off the 'wonderfulness' of our country to a very large extent.

So Mr SR, if you don't like the country, or the newspaper, you can very well not read it (which I bet you don't anyway, therefore you are SO qualified to judge it).... and do us a favour, fuck off back to America.

I haven't blogged in ages, simply...

... because I've had no time.

Sometimes I wonder if my life is not too filled with activities by choice and by obligation, that even when I have the opportunity to take a time-out, I don't really do so. Also because I'm not used to it.

In the last three weeks, or since I last wrote, lots of things have happened. So many what I identify as 'blog topics' in my head, and on little scraps of paper - but they're just uncompleted ideas that I have just no time to breathe some words into.

So, since so much time has passed, it was inevitable that I have come to many conclusions, some of which don't make it to be published on this blog, but those that do, is listed here in no particular order:

1. I need to blog more. Writing for newspapers don't really count, because you have to assume the 'professional me' persona and write according to exactly how news or features or online works. Which is not necessarily a useful channel or tool for expression, or necessary relief for one's soul. So I have resolved to blog more. Even if to keep a record of what's going on in my busy life. So when I look back in a few years, it's not just a blank sheet of web background staring straight back at me, tauntingly.

2. I find myself stupidly writing down my events/appointments on my new dopod, when actually I really like writing it down the old-fashioned way in a paper diary. So I now do both - which really defeats the whole purpose, because it's a waste of time. And also because I get confused and sometimes don't record important things in EITHER palm nor diary. As Lee Evans would put it, man has gone through centuries of technological innovation, to come up with something man had already possessed in the very first place: putting a pen to a sheet to record writing.

3. Despite my hectic schedule, I managed to squeeze in a night of clubbing with J's work last week and we went to Mambo night at Zouk. And for me, it was the first time in a very long time. When I got there, I remembered why it's been a long time.
Because, as I've always told my best friends (who stubbornly cling on to the non-existent nostalgia of the venue), the crowd there is so infantile, I was surprised that there weren't any baby strollers there.
Everyone looks like they're 18 years old or younger. Oh, sorry, make that 16.
There are dumb, ditzy ah lians who dress like they just discovered skirts, and who talk poorly - and ah bengs who dance to all the retro songs, while making hand signals that really just make them look so bad. And so sad.

Which leads me to.... intense embarrassment.

When J looked at the ugly bunch of ah bengs with very bad skin and very bad hair-cuts, standing on stage gesticulating wildly to "Squareee-rooooom-mmm", he turned to me and said, smirking: 'no wonder you stopped dating Singapore chinese men' - I seethed when he said that, racial pride all bubbling up. But I realised I was angry because at some level, he was right. I couldn't even defend them even if I wanted to, given the choice specimen that we were looking at.

Frustrating... because there are decent looking Sg chinese men around. Just that they aren't standing in the middle sadly gesturing. And they're certainly not at Mambo.


4. Work stresses: I hate being at the bottom of the work chain, simply because I've been there a shorter time. There are so many more incompetent people older than me it's really unbelievable. And it's worse when you're being forced to step aside, and do the crappy stories, because the ones who were there longer have "chope-d" the good stories. When you obviously can do a better job. I hate it! I hate being cleverer than them and not being able to demonstrate it!
Then again, the true intellect will find some way of circumventing the forced circumstances and find some other devious way to show them up. And that's exactly what my gameplan is. (Shhhh...)

5. Making a very important decision in my life. A milestone. A new beginning. And the start of something good.


6. Feeling Guilty.

Often, I think of myself really critically, exacting very high standards for my performance, that sometimes I extend this to the people I meet and often judge them on the same standards.

Maybe I shouldn't. I sometimes wish I was one of those people that "don't have a harsh word to say about anyone" - but these people are rarely the CEOs of the world, and greatness often eludes them. Then again, maybe I've got my priorities wrong. Maybe being great at something, or striving to be remembered in some way, by the world, isn't as important as I make it out to be.

So I feel guilty sometimes for thinking someone's ugly, or stupid, or irritating - but most times, they really deserve the label. For example, I had a really evil, and unkind looking guy on my recent course - and he turned out, really, not to be very nice. I get scared, even looking at him, it's just impossible to generate ANY warm feeling towards people like that. Is it his fault that he's born with those looks? Or is it because he's a nasty person, that's why he has those looks. I'm still trying to figure.

But if there's one comforting thing, I can safely say I'm nowhere near the standards of some of my uh..peers, who are top-class bitches. Or more accurately, indulge in top-class bitching.

Friendly banter and half-baked humour aside, their underlying implications and judgements are sometimes so critical and harsh I sometimes feel guilty even just being in the presence. And I wonder what's the merit in doing that.
Do they really mean the evil things they say, or is it just a flippant indulgence that doesn't reflect their character when push comes to shove?

I think, however, if you practice so much in your daily life, at being mean, at some point you inevitably become what you practice everyday. Oui?

7. Feeling extremely pissed off with one J, while being protective of the other. It doesn't matter that you don't know what I'm talking about, as long as I do.


8. The amazing INSEAD business journalism seminar I've just attended! Which makes me wonder if I should switch jobs and become an economist.

It has been a brilliant 3 days and I have learnt so much, I sometimes regret not really doing a degree like economics or finance, considering how intellectually stimulating it is.

I've always had that problem, all my life, choosing between the science and arts when in fact I excelled in both equally it was so hard to make a choice. Often my heart won over my mind, and when my desire to be different (from the boring engineers, bankers and accountants of this world) gets the better of me, I inadvertently choose the latter. When actually, my intelligence and mental capacity is probably better off taking on a science subject and engaging in it. Since it does deal with so many complex issues and concepts, it seems only fair that I give my own mind the sweet experience of facing that challenge.

I could go on and on about what I've learned and the depth of the topics I covered but that's not necessarily the time for that now. I however recommend that anybody who remotely considers themselves intelligent, should consider at least getting a crash course on how the world economies work. I'm so grateful to have done the course, simply because it's only made me realize what more potential I've, or more broadly, the human brain's, got!

In any case, it's probably sewn the seed of desire in me to pursue an MBA. It's hard work - and expensive - but I also think it will be amazing. Of course, it will have to come before or after my contemplated law degree. Just have to figure out now, where to find the time. And also, if I do do the MBA, what does it mean for my future after that and what am I really seeking?


9. There are so many things I need to do. Prioritising and time management is even more of the essence now for me. I now see how the modern woman is cursed. No wonder happy women don't write.


10. I love my mum. I mustn't forget that she has been an amazing mother, and made so much sacrifices in her life for her children. She is not without imperfection but she wouldn't be human otherwise. So even if I get annoyed, I must remember how great a woman she really is.

Pain

I can't remember when's the last time I felt pain so acutely as I do now.

My back and my thighs are killing me, sending shooting pains that feel like needles whenever I attempt to walk or do nothing remotely mobile.

To give an illustration on how bad it was, when I got up this morning, I had to roll myself off, because I couldn't bend my back. Then when I got to a half-prostrate position, I had to stop every 5 seconds as I straightened myself up vertebrae by vertebrae because it was just so freaking painful.

I can't walk up or down the stairs without holding onto something, and whenever I drop something on the floor, I can't pick it up.

Suddenly, I feel like I completely understand the frustrations of the disabled. We take for granted what comes so easy to us.

Now the question: why am I in such pain?

I wish I had a more glamorous reason as to why I've been inflicted with such agony - such as, jumping into the ocean to save a drowning person and swimming to shore for the next few hours, or, playing football and scoring a hat-trick, but spraining my back in the process..

but no. Truth be told. I am in agony because I played netball yesterday.

And totally underestimating the sport, I did no warm-ups, not warm-downs, just straight in, played like a maniac, 5 matches, till the semi-finals. After which when I walked off the court after our team won the third place, I felt my legs go all wobbly and that was when I realized I might hurt today - but nothing prepared me for THIS!

Now I feel like an achy, grandma, and it's so sad because I've always thought I'd be invincible and immune to back pain forever.

****

TWO days of MC and a lot of drugs later, I'm feeling much better. If there's one thing I learnt, it's never to underestimate the sport. I'm never playing netball again without proper warm-ups.

The other is: our marketing division is slightly er, behaviourally regressive. There was this female team captain who looked like she was about sec 4 - and she kept going "marketing... woosh!" throughout the tournament. I kid you not. I had goose bumps creeping along my arm whenever I heard it... and when they finally won their match, they started doing "hip hip hooray" cheers for themselves... (three times in a row!) as a verbal pat on their backs.

I guess there's nothing wrong with a bit of team spirit.. but they were so delusionally serious about the whole thing, they didn't realize that everyone else was laughing at them from a distance away....

From The Straits Times, Aug 13 2007

To stop global warming, each individual's carbon dioxide emissions cannot exceed 2 to 2.5 tonnes a year. At present, each Singaporean emits about 9 tonnes a year. Is it possible to live a zero- or low-carbon life here?

RECENTLY, I embraced a new religion. For a week, I resolved to live by its strict doctrine.

I'm not talking about some new cult, but the green movement that has gripped the world's attention lately.

Climate change needs no introduction. The 75 million tonnes of carbon dioxide (CO2) spewed into the atmosphere daily has been blamed for global warming.

Resolving to do my part, I embarked on living a 'carbon- neutral week' - that is, to live my life in such a way that it does not result in any CO2 emissions.

I first had to calculate my annual and weekly carbon footprint.

The Singapore Environment Council (SEC) website, everydaysuperhero.sg , provides a list of calculators that convert utility bills and transport use into CO2 emissions.

Then, last week, I executed a low-carbon, energy-saving strategy I formulated from some top green websites online.

I made an extra effort to car-pool (I am a sinner/owner of a 1.6-litre car), took the bus on my assignments, walked to buy my groceries, used only reusable bags at the shops, had my own plastic container for take-away food, ate vegetarian, bought local products and carefully checked the labels on things I consumed.

I received intriguing reactions from people. But nothing prepared me for the profound yet subtle change that took hold of the way I thought about everything.

For the first time, I reflected on how every single object is made.

I started asking myself questions like: How much energy was used to produce it? Is it environmentally friendly? Can I recycle it?

I thought about the food I used to eat without a moment's thought. Where did it come from? What are the 'food miles' of this apple?

(Food miles is a measure of the distance a food item travels from field to plate, which indicates the CO2 released during transport.)

The constant interaction of all these different elements daily made me realise what a difference we can all make if we think about our choices a little more.

The real challenge, I realised, was to get everyone on the same wavelength.

Acquiring a 'green conscience' doesn't happen overnight. Paving a green culture for an entire country will take even longer.

The other day, I had lunch with my colleagues and got laughed at for having a falafel (no meat) burger 'in the name of sustainability'.

I was labelled 'tree-hugger', 'hippie', 'greenie', which I did not mind, but it only showed how people in the mainstream still view environmentally conscious people as an 'other' and a minority.

When I offered my own container for a take-away lunch last week, the canteen owner at the cash register did a double-take and exclaimed loudly in Mandarin: 'Wah! If only everyone is like you, I can save money and not buy so many plastic boxes.'

Truth is, being green and making money can go together.

During my low-carbon week, I saved money by being a vegetarian and buying local produce whenever I could.

When I did drive, I took care not to floor my accelerator, and saved petrol.

At home, I switched off appliances usually in 'standby' mode, such as the TV, and had the fan spinning rather than the air-conditioner when I slept.

When my utility bill arrives this month, I know I will be rewarded.

For all my efforts, I managed to reduce my weekly footprint from 179kg to 98kg. If I keep it up, my emissions for the year will drop from 9.1 tonnes to 5.3 tonnes.

At the end of the week, I also donated $32 to www.carbonfootprint.com, to plant a tree in Kenya which will offset 750kg of my emissions in its lifetime.

Keeping to my regime, and if I also pay for a new tree every 15 weeks, the target of 2.5 tonnes can be attained.

To be honest, short of offsetting one's emissions with trees, living a zero carbon life in Singapore is impossible.

But reducing it dramatically is not difficult.

And the truth is, the more people get on board, the easier it will become for all.

Green advocate Howard Shaw, the SEC's executive director, agrees.

He noted that awareness of carbon footprints in Singapore started only recently, but 'people are starting to see how everything is connected'.

'The big picture is really how we live our daily lives, and how this has a direct impact on what happens on this planet,' he said.

Anyone who wants to play a part should go to a climate change website, and start making lifestyle changes such as using public transport, and switching to energy-efficient appliances, he said.

When I met former United States vice-president Al Gore last week, he quoted an old proverb I found very apt: 'If you want to go quickly, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.'

The climate crisis requires us to go far, and quickly, he said. The question is, are we willing to go the distance?


*

TO STOP global warming, everyone needs to reduce his carbon emissions to roughly 2.5 tonnes a year, from his current average. The worldwide average currently stands at 4 tonnes, while in developed countries, it is 11. Singapore's average is about 9 currently. In the United States, it is 19; Australia, 17; Japan, 9.5; and Malaysia and Hong Kong, about 5.

Landed

I am writing from my hotel room in Lucerne, Switzerland - landed this morning, after an arduous 15 hour flight from which my back felt like it was sure to break and disintegrate from bodily aches.

I thought enviously of the damn people in their business and first class seats. Sometimes having a filthy lot of money does make life easier...

So I've barely recovered from my previous jet lag and now my body clock is searching for some order in the chaos I've put it through recently - and how tired I've been! Rushing work, planning this and that, getting things done in time for my work trip here.

Anyhow, after taking a train from Zurich to Lucerne at a ridiculously early hour (I got in at 6 bloody am!) I got to the hotel to find I had to wait over two hours to check in as I was too early.

Had a bath, got on the internet, went out to walk around town with a fellow journalist, got some lunch, then went to TWO museums! I am so proud of the stupid amount of energy I seem to possess despite my exhaustion.

Swiztzerland is beautiful. The water in the lake running through Lucerne and past its iconic wooden bridge is beautiful and gorgeous and clear. The architecture of the town houses surrounding the banks of the lake is majestic, grand and tragic all at once. And the best bit - set against the beautiful town is the magnitude of moutains. From my little hotel terrace, I can see the peaks of the mountains miles away, and the green plains cascading downwards beyond my vision.

It's all so beautiful, so familiar. So unfamiliar. So lonely. So liberating.

And I'll tell you what's random. If there's one thing I'll remember about today, it's actually this video installation/film called Memorial Project Vietnam that I saw at the Museum of Art in Lucerne.

Have never heard of this artist, Jun Nguyen-Hatsushiba before, but in a darkened room, I saw the film he made, of dragon dancers, performing their craft in the deep sea. Yes, these dancers were divers and they were darting around in the water, making the dragon come alive, while capsules of paint are circled around in this contraption on the seabed, and released individually. Each explosion of colour from the capsules in the deepest depths of the sea, only enhanced the mystery and incredulity of the scene unfolding before me.

You have to see it for yourself. The best way to view it is in a dark room with the screen the size of those in cinemas. It was fantastically amazing and very original. And very expensive. The artist must have fuck loads of money to do an artwork like this.

Time to go and freshen up so I can meet the rest of this massive group of 30 journalists also on this media tour.

I'll be damned, but I've realised today what a huge amount of fucking reserve energy I've got compacted in this human body of mine.

Hedonistic Holidays

It's been five days since we returned from our holiday in England and yet I'm still jet lagged - sleeping at 4am, getting up at 2pm...

The prospect of waking up for work at 7am tomorrow is dreadful, knowing I'm going to be exhausted after a night of trying to sleep.

We've had one of our best holidays yet - going to England truly felt like going back home. It was 12 glorious days of meeting up with friends and family, getting pissed and liberated, having barbys in the british sunshine, basking in the clear air, sitting on the wet grass of homey gardens, driving through desolate country lanes in the frosty cold mornings, and even, experiencing the grim, incessant rain that so characterises the country.

J and I have decided that it's no longer a possibility but now an eventuality that we will be moving back there after my cursed bond ends. There's too much there that we love; and sadly, it's easier for me to move there with J than for him to live here in Sg forever with me.

It's either him without his friends and family, or me, without my friends and family. Due to our circumstances, we'll never be able to live in one country where both of us can be with those dear to us...

It's a bit sad, but sacrifices are inevitable. How I wish I could just extract those I love and just take them with me wherever I go, very much like my favourite cds I take along on holidays - but they too have their own lives and I see the only solution now for both J and I to be able to see whoever we love at any time, is to find a way to teleport through time and space.

That's why I'm observing that Jap fella Hiro in Heroes very closely now.

I'm dreading somewhat the next long haul flight I have to do this Saturday, when I go to Switzerland for work - I've taken too many long haul flights in a short span of time, and this time, I won't even have a shoulder to lean on - just the cold, hard window.

What is surprising is that for the rather hedonistic holiday we've had, I feel surprisingly recharged. Poor J fell ill as soon as he came back and it really is a case of "needing a holiday to recover from your holiday" that many are victims of....

But after drinking a heinous amount of alcohol (I'm talking about an average of at least ten drinks a day), doing stuff I shouldn't really be doing, irregular eating times and lots of super sweet drinks (orange juice and lemonade - my favourite British summer drink!) I seem to feel fine and even managed to lose some weight goodness knows how.

I feel great, healthy, and all set to take on the world again - very different from the usual ten-day hangovers I get from doing anything vaguely hedonistic as I'm quite a lightweight (in british measures, not singapore. singapore girls are beyond lightweights when it comes to drink, they are useless with a few exceptions)

Perhaps its my new hair - I've chopped all of my wavy locks off.
Perhaps it was that Saturday night when I got much more than what I asked for, or the other Saturday night that's reinvigorated me, changed my perspective, added to my autobiography.

But I feel like I've lived.

And now I want to live some more.

On Social Graces or the lack thereof

My dear fellow countrymen,

I have refrained for a very long time on commenting on the state of our social graces. But the day has come when I can no longer hold back the thoughts to myself, and I have struggled yet decided to speak out in my blind faith that words have the power to change.

It plagues me now that every single day, I see all these people around me, oblivious to the finer habits of life through no fault of theirs, as I'd like to think they didn't know better.

I know we are a nation of food-lovers. Hawker food has become one of our national prides, and eating is our favourite past-time.

But no matter what you might think, it is actually slightly less than desirable having to see the contents of your no doubt delicious food swishing in the depths of your mouth, while you're making that cringing noise that sounds like "mm-tch-tch-tch-mmm-tch-tch" - the result of eating with your mouth wide open, and making these sounds of orchestral magnitude to the innocent by-stander, who, if like, me, stands by mortified at the symphony.

See, it might seem like such a ridiculous idea to you, but eating with your mouth open is actually - rather rude.

You might say it is very British to be so particular about one's eating etiquette - yet surely that is but a symptom of a sophisticated society. I find it indeed very curious how good eating habits escapes such an alarmingly huge population of a first-world country like Singapore.

It is. Basic. Manners.

I don't care if you think you're Japanese and slurping your soup is cool.
It is not.

When you eat, your lips should remain closed, and other than perhaps occasional crunching sounds that can't be avoided should you chew on a crunchy leaf, there should be no horrifically loud sounds coming from the region of your mouth - much less adding to them by actually talking while you're embarking on such an important task.

Even some members of my family; some of my very intelligent friends; some of my much respected colleagues - are ignorant of this violation of eating etiquette. It really amazes me.

Do they not know how disgusting their behaviour is?

I was on course most of last week, and had a guy sitting next to me who had the most revolting habit of eating with his mouth open, and making obscene noises - right in front of everyone else!

I kept shooting furtive glances at him, hoping it would be a hint. But it was obvious he didn't even register that it was wrong.

So I ask you, my dear fellow citizens, if you could do your duty and spread this basic courtesy to whoever you meet who chews/eats/talks with their mouth open...

Please tell them to keep. it. shut.

Thank you!

17 years and counting...

Today is my dad's 17th death anniversary.

We planned the visit a week ago, and it couldn't have fallen on a more beautiful, sunny day than this.

It was a real trip down memory lane, and mum commented on how truly terrifying this day was, all of 17 years ago - and how the weather was so radically different.

I was transported back to that moment, not unlike in Harry Potter world when a magician touches a Portkey - and what came back to me was hysterical crying, thunder, lightning and rain and the sinking feeling of watching my dad's coffin being released lower and lower into the ground. Mum was beside herself on that day (to say the least), but the person I remember crying the hardest was my youngest auntie on my dad's side. A family I have never known since them, and only have half-truths about. She didn't deserve to cry as much as my mum had a right to.

And then on the same spot, I stand once again 17 years later.

The sky is a gorgeous blue, the clouds above us are moving steadily along, building upwards like cheery cotton candy. The trees sing their own song to the tune of the light wind. It couldn't have been a better day.

I guess it's a bit morbid to dwell on it, but it struck me how time, truly, heals all wounds.

A blink of an eye, almost two decades. My mum is starting to grow lots of grey hair. In that time, we've all grown up. She's married someone else, had another kid. Living and leading a different life now.

What would it have been like if my dad was still alive?

I remember him, and yet I don't. It comes back to me sometimes, sometimes it doesn't. There has been this gaping hole all my life that's never been filled and I will never know what person I will be like had it been filled. I think about all theories and some sociologist in the past somewhere will probably tell you how the lack of a male figure in my life has moulded the conditions on which I choose my own partner.

Whatever, really.

I was truly shocked when I first noticed how much mum's aged. She still does look youthful, but my she's never had that much grey hair before. Age is a scary thing. And time. And she said today, in another blink of an eye, it will once again be another decade. And then another. The only constant is time. How unfettered it is by the passing by of all humans on earth. In our short little life.

I suddenly felt like there were countless things I had to do. And too little time to do them. At the prime of my youth, the sense of urgency to leave an indelible mark on our falliable earth never kicked in as strongly as today.

I can't let another 17 years fly by. The last 17 had been great - had its ups and downs. But the next 17 will be better. Has to be better. No?

I feel my age even more pronounced when I look at my siblings and thought to myself, what I was thinking when I was them?

It was the invincibility of youth, the stuff of dreams, the ambition to conquer.

The murkiness of it all. Doesn't crystallize. When we grow older.

I am convinced I have to write more, however. I owe it to myself.

I started revisiting old blogs, old posts. There is no better memory than words on a page.

And something surfaces... A quote I wrote a few years ago, and will one day I hope re-appear in my book:

It is the curse of the intelligent for their capacity to remember. The stupid are happy only because they lack the facility of memory.

Now and again

Again, so many weeks have passed and I feel like I have nothing to show for it, except the bylines that keep appearing which indicate what a hectic blur my life has been so far. I feel like I'm being held hostage at this moment in time that's pulling me in two different directions, what I thought we would realize when we grew up and started working, I realize now is a fallacy. How much more can we do in addition to the hum-drums of our working life, how much more can work consume you, and how much sheer willpower and energy you have to muster to keep up with your dreams, aspirations, family, friends and personal obligations. If I were in Africa now, would my concerns by any bigger, although no doubt starkly different? Sometimes I really feel it's unhealthy to be so all-consuming in your daily chores, but then again if you don't do it in the prime of your life, when else will you do it. how will I be able to take a step back, without losing that part of myself, or should I have lost that part of myself in order to become a better person?
I sometimes find myself floating out and above and staring in disbelief at what I am seeing, but then I realize that it's all a formative journey and this is what we called growing up in the adult world. I've always been prepared so when it's finally time to come up to the task suddenly it seems like I ain't so prepared after all, or that time is slipping away slowly but surely from the grasp of my hands like grains of sand, and I still haven't accomplished as much as I wanted to.
But perhaps it is humanly impossible. Or inhumanly possible.
My only comfort is I am making inroads, a difference, a glimmer, in what would otherwise be a banal existence; it's as if I'm being told to put my wants and desires on hold for the promise of something greater at the end, and the greatest fear is not knowing what that end will be. might be.
Meanwhile, I can only labour on, and stay focussed, and write down the minute details in my diary; which we all know just ends up sitting at the bottom of a cupboard by the time next year arrives.

My story beckons, I wish I could change the world in one day.