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Saturday, April 30, 2005

 

Believe

Once in a while, something comes along and makes you laugh and think really hard too. Today was one of those days.

It started off innocently enough as a night out at Wala Wala with some ACS(I) pals. The band EIC was good, they were technically very competent and had great rapport with the (mostly inebriated) crowd. Still, it wasn’t exactly my thing, me being averse to radio-friendly music. Give me raucous rock and roll ala Rolling Stones or AC/DC anytime.

Of course there’s always blues, which will never go out of style as far as I’m concerned, but that’s beside the point.

Anyway, I met Nick and friends, who were celebrating his birthday (Cheers to you if you’re reading this Nick.) and one of his friends commented that I looked like Adam King.



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At which point of time, I raised up my left hand, in which I held



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Coincidence? Maybe.


On a related note, I wonder how many of you remember the previous spokesman for Guinness.



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Corny references to black and white in Mandarin aside, I see a trend here.

Hmmm...and a possible alternative career path.

Friday, April 29, 2005

 

One to remember

Well well well...with the completion of ME3262 Industrial Metrology on 28 Apr, 1900 hrs, yet another semester has gone by. Time to look back and reflect.

If there’s only one thing that I’d remember from this semester, it would definitely have to be ME3102 Mechanical Systems Design. It started off in the previous semester as ME3101, where we designed an autonomous robot to pick up foam balls and shoot at a target. This was only the design phase, and culminated in a presentation and report. In ME3102, we did the fabrication and had the competition to see whose robot could shoot the most balls.

It all went along fine and dandy in the beginning, but in the run-up to the competition we were feverishly testing our robot and tweaking it here and there. Often we’d go down to the arena after lessons, test till the next morning, go for lessons, go back and change/sleep/bathe and by dinner time we were back again. The week before the competition felt like one really long 100hr day, and we were just running on adrenaline and caffeine.

No one really complained though, because we all felt that we had something worth suffering for. Although we were definitely not in the running for the top prize, we still felt that at least we had something to be proud of come competition day. Hours were spent, brains were cracked, swear words were uttered (from me at least), coffee was gulped (me again) and sleeplessness was endured, not because we had to but because we wanted to. There was a pure, unadulterated desire to have our robot be the best it could be, and it was felt all round.

As for how the competition went, I’ll just quote from this learning journal that I submitted for MNO2311 Leadership in Organisations:

“Our robot was not able to participate in the competition due to major component failures, just minutes before it was due to start. Connecting a new battery with the wrong polarity caused the voltage regulator, microprocessor and relays to blow and essentially ruled out any chance of participation, despite intensive efforts to troubleshoot.

Lesson 1 : A team takes collective responsibility for its actions and results.

It was a bitter disappointment to have many man-hours of hard work literally go up in smoke, but in all honesty I cannot pinpoint anyone for blame as we all put in tremendous effort and made many personal sacrifices for this project. Our group leader was the one who made the critical error, but to pin the blame on one person would be to miss the point that we are all responsible for the projects’ success and to miss the lesson in teamwork.

Lesson 2 : Maintain emotional control during a crisis.

During the highly distressing period of trouble-shooting under severe time constraints, never was there any accusation or outright show of frustration. Everyone maintained a positive attitude as the turn of events helped buy us more time for trouble-shooting. Hope was constantly maintained and encouragement flowed within the group to keep spirits up even as the examiner kept announcing for us to present our robot. Right till the end, we still believed we had a fighting chance to fix it in time and make it for the competition. This unexpected show of fighting spirit can be attributed to each member’s show of calm and display of controlled urgency instead of anxiety or panic.

Lesson 3 : Genuine mistakes happen and require empathy.

For us, the disappointment was directed at the mistake rather than the person, and recognizing that the one who made it had consistently given of his best for the team demonstrates empathy. There is still the rest of the project to go (presentations, reports and interviews) and to blame him now would be to destroy his morale for the rest of the module.

In spite of the above circumstances, I believe that we can overcome our failure in the competition (20% of the overall grade) to score in the other CA components and achieve a decent grade. Other teams have commented on the ingenuity of our design and expressed genuine sympathy for our plight, and seeing the qualities of my group members shown so far gives me this confidence.”






It has been a huge learning experience for me, and I hope all of you reading this can take something home from it too.



Woooooaaaaahhhhhh sweet child o' mine....
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Tuesday, April 26, 2005

 

What did we do before electricity?

In line with my policy of spreading cool musical knowledge and information of dubious value, this post is dedicated to home-made musical instruments.

Washtub Bass

This has got to be the coolest thing I've ever seen. If I can ever lay my hands on one of those metal washtubs I'm gonna start bopping along. Check out the picture gallery. Way cool! I've had the pleasure of seeing one in action on a previous trip to US when I caught Nathan James doing an acoustic gig. Another guy also did some fantastic percussion with a pair of spoons. Yeap. All you bass players lusting after the latest Warwick or whatever, eat your hearts out.

Cigar Box Guitar

Now this one has me eating my heart out. If I did smoke cigars, my whole room would be filled with these things. I did make something similiar with a biscuit tin, albeit much cruder. Maybe just for kicks I'll play it at a gig next time.

Matchstick instruments

This one had me speechless. Simply amazing display of woodworking, even more extraordinary display of patience, and perhaps to some the ultimate in bo-liao.

Diddley Bow

Alright now boys and girls, this is about as basic as it gets. Any further back and we'll be beating rocks together to make sounds.

Some of these sites feature soundclips or even videos. Truely humbling. Goes to show that you can't keep the music in you if it's gotta come out, and you'll find just about anything to play it on.

Sunday, April 24, 2005

 

Music feeds the soul and soothes the inner beast.

In the midst of the exams, I've been having a musical revelation of sorts.

I've finally mustered the courage to put my recordings online, written 2 new songs, fallen in love with a new guitar, marvelled at some hot Nashville guitar-slingers doing breakneck country chicken-pickin', and discovered a whole lot of great stuff at Soundclick.

One of them that really left a deep impression is this guy who calls himself Bottleneck John. No it has nothing to do with weird anatomy proportions, it's just a reference to a style of guitar playing. Ask me if you must know. Check out his song "Come Back Baby" (3rd from the top). It's got a certain raw emotional appeal that you can't get with screaming guitars and pounding bass drums and stuff. Just one man and a guitar. I'm pretty sure even the non-blues fans among you will find something cool about it, so do check it out.

The trend so far in the past few years has been that exam time is always peak period for musical creativity as far as I'm concerned. Almost all of my songs were written when I should have been studying or sleeping. During the rest of the semester, just sitting down at the desk and trying to write usually yields nothing or absolute nonsense which should never see the light of day.

It could be because playing/writing/listening to the blues helps ease my worried mind, to quote a common blues line. A lot of people have this misconception that blues makes you feel depressed and that it's a sad music. Well, if the African-American share-croppers and cotton-pickers (the originators of what we know today as blues) were suffering so much, would they sing a form of music which made them feel even worse? Just think about it.

Then again maybe it's to do with the (somewhat)increased brain activity or higher levels of concentration(doubtful). Then again it could be a sign that my brain wants to be doing something else more pleasurable. Or it could be a reflex response to the boredom of studying. It's not that mechanical engineering is dull, actually some of it does interest me, being the perpetual mechanical gadget geek that I am. It's just that instead of only using my brains, I'd rather do stuff than involves my imagination and fingers.

Ok, I should stop here before it gets out of hand. Now.

Saturday, April 23, 2005

 

Confessions of a Closet Country Picker Part II

She readily agreed. In fact, for someone a bit younger than me, she seemed rather eager to get down to it. So much for the earlier show of coyness from a dame of Japanese origins.

We started slow and easy, taking the time to explore each other. Gentle teasing here and there with occasional flourishes kept it from getting stale while keeping the pace relaxed. Her soft purring was soothing to the ears and soul, and her mellow voice possessed a smooth quality, not unlike fine scotch. We could have carried on that way for hours, but I was eager to find out how far she would go.

Taking the initiative, I kicked it up another notch and upped the tempo. To my surprise, she went right along with me as if she had been anticipating it all along. Her responsiveness was as though she were tuned in to every move and trick that I conjured, responding each time with something of her own to surprise me. She was giving as good as she got, perhaps even better. No words were exchanged, but the feeling was intense as we tried to outdo each other. Every move she made seemed to tease and egg me on, “C’mon cowboy, that all you’ve got?”

A heady mix of ego and excitement took over me, as I took out all the stops and let it rip. I dug in as hard as I could, throwing all sense of caution to the wind. Not wanting to be outdone, she gave it all she had and fought back with even more bite. The volume got louder and louder, as did the level of excitement between us. Upon reaching the threshold of decency, she gave out a huge, earth-shaking growl of such aggression that it would have brought most men to their knees.

Not me. “Ahhh...music to my ears. I thought. It only served to embolden and encourage me as I pushed whatever boundaries I thought I had. Again, no words were spoken, but her every growl and groan screamed, “Yeah that’s what I’m talking about cowboy! Giddyup!” I had come this far and unleashed the beast within her. There was no turning back.

On and on we went, oblivious to the passage of time and whatever was happening around us. At that moment, there were only two of us and nothing else mattered, not even the lightning of Zeus or the waters of Poseidon could have come between us. Exactly when we reached a point of climax was immaterial. What mattered was that we both realized something extraordinary had happened. It was, truly, a meeting of minds and bodies, a union of souls.

As she sat in my lap and lay in my arms, I ran my hand across her alluring profile and a whisper seemed to emanate, “Take me home.”

And so I did.











There she is.
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She’s an 80’s Fender Telecaster in Butterscotch Blonde, made in Japan. Telecasters are versatile guitars used in almost all forms of music, but are most commonly used in country for their trademark twang and bite.

In writing this post, every descriptive cliché that could be used was milked for all it was worth. My apologies if it made any of you cringe. I don't read this kind of stuff.

Much thanks goes to Dennis of Guitar77 who made this union possible (and affordable).

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

 

Confessions of a Closet Country Picker Pt I

When I stepped into the room, her aura distinguished her from the rest.

She wasn’t the most beautiful, nor the most exquisite, but she exuded an innate charm which inexplicably attracted a lot of attention from would-be suitors, including myself. The kind of look she had wasn’t the showy, flamboyant style that screamed “Look at ME!” Rather, it inspired a sensual mix of intrigue and curiosity, a desire to explore and discover the charms within.

Not that she wasn’t a looker. Her gentle curves were reminiscent of classically-revered female forms, her skin a slightly tanned shade of brown, a perfect complement to the black and silver outfit she had on.

I had to try.

I introduced myself, and we spent the next few minutes or so in polite conversation, finding out a little about each others’ character, the little quirks here and there that made her unique. She revealed tantalizing little bits about herself, but generally kept a distance, holding in secrecy the most exciting and intriguing parts. Yet somehow, the subtle flirting in her manners suggested that there was more to be had.

This made me even more determined to uncover whatever there was behind the shroud of mystique. I probed deeper, steering our conversation towards more personal topics, seeking to connect on a more emotional level. She obliged with a few personal disclosures, but still left much more to be seeked out. After a while, as we grew more comfortable with each other, the conversation took on a more relaxed, free-flowing nature and she started showing more of her feminine charms and wiles. The earlier politeness was now replaced with a mutual curiosity about each other, as she became more engaged in the conversation.

We were getting into the swing of things. She shifted a little closer to me, and I leaned into her as I put my arms around her waist.

I made the move.








To be continued...

Sunday, April 17, 2005

 

The Shadows - "Apache"

Hearing this song never fails to bring to my mind a monumental life-changing event.

It was 1997 and I was 15 going on 16, wandering aimlessly along the musical path, sorting through a mish-mash of sounds and trying to find something worthwhile to play. I had just started playing guitar earlier in the year, just learning song after song without any real direction. A Sunday afternoon found me wandering around at Yamaha Music Plaza at Plaza Singapura (even before they renovated), just ogling at whatever was on display. Having little knowledge of guitars back then, everything was new and novel, and just about any guitar that had knobs and switches had me fascinated.

A group of metalheads, identifiable by their long, unruly hair, Megadeth/Black Sabbath/Metallica T shirts and trashy jeans, were holding court in a corner, dishing out some solos and licks at breakneck speed, along with break-eardrum volume. Distorted chords were churned out, many notes were played, and for a few moments they held me captive with their display of technical wizardry.

Alongside me stood this old-timer, dressed neatly in an ironed short sleeved shirt and trousers pulled up above his stomach. Silvery hair framing his bald pate was neatly combed back, with a slight, knowing smile on his face. Most incongruently however, he had on a ridiculously pink haversack with some Doraemon or some other cartoon character printed on it.

My first impression was that he was probably a retiree picking up his granddaughter from piano class. Perhaps he was, but there was more to it.

When the metalheads were taking a break from their self-indulgence, the old-timer spoke up, “Do you mind if I try that guitar?”

The look of disbelief on their faces was thinly disguised, but still they respectfully handed over the guitar to him. He took possession of the guitar and proceeded to play a few notes, tuning up here and there, adjusting the knobs on the amplifier and such.

In this time a small crowd had gathered, and the metalheads continued to eyeball the old-timer with a “C’mon, show us what you’ve got” look on their faces. He took his time, propped up his leg on an amplifier and took out a plectrum from his shirt pocket.

The next few minutes left one of the deepest musical impressions on my mind, as he proceeded to blow everyone away with a spot-on and soulful rendition of “Apache” by The Shadows. The musicality, the touch, the whole feel of the song emanated from his wrinkled hands as the smile on his face widened, perhaps from memories of a musical past. The sense of awe around the room was palpable, not least coming from the metalheads, who by now were truly stunned into even greater disbelief.

As the last notes of the song faded off, he looked up at the metalheads, not with a triumphant grin but with a gentle, encouraging smile and nod of the head as he said, “Thank you”, and handed the guitar back to them.

One of the metalheads took it back rather reluctantly, seemingly subdued. They proceeded to pass the guitar around, none of them really wanting to play another note on it. At this point the old-timer turned around and strolled off, still toting the ridiculous pink haversack but leaving awe in his wake.

His work had been done. The power of musical sensibility over guitar machismo had been succinctly and aptly demonstrated. Musical touch had overcome technicality.

He touched at least one life that day.

Saturday, April 16, 2005

 

Quench and Temper

In line with what I've been studying the past few days, carbon steel or alloy steel that has been quenched and tempered (ie. heated and cooled) has the best combination of surface hardness and toughness for high-impact machine parts.

Similarly for friendships, the best ones are quenched (in Guiness) and tempered (in the flames of hardship). Bro, if you're reading this, cheers to you man. Towards perfection.

The simple pleasures of life are often the ones we overlook the most. Some people commemorate the anniversary of their birth with gaudy parties, as self-indulgent as they are lavish.

Me? Beer, chicken and fellowship. Reminiscence of days gone by, reminders of days to come. Not a time to dwell on the moment, but to look back and learn, then look forth and venture.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

 

Maiden Post

Howdy folks,

At the urgings of an enthusiastic friend, I have decided to chronicle my upcoming internship in USA in the form of a blog. So here it is.

For those of you who are clueless, here are the gory details:

Vacation Internship Program
Location : Anaheim, California, USA
Company profile : Research and development of power supplies
Duration : May 8 July 18 2005

Those of you who know me well enough will know that I'm not the chatty or loquacious (http://dictionary.reference.com/) kind to fill up page after page without any worthwhile purpose. You would also know that aesthetics never ranks highly in my list of priorities, which reflects in my choice of template. Neatness and clarity are the order of the day, though not always so for the state of my room and desk, but hey, I know where everything is. Well, most of the time.

Secondary functions of this blog are :

- to blatantly extol the virtues of the blues and provide cool and useful (not always both) information about my favourite musicians. If Britney Spears represents the epitome of musical exhilaration (other forms of exhilaration are your own business) for you, you're gonna be in for a helluva ride. Welcome aboard.

- to publicise personal opinions which I deem appropriate for general consumption. If you are allergic to disagreement and difference in opinions, you may lodge a complaint with me personally, with a registration fee of SGD$10.

- to record down any other events or happenings which may be of interest. Mainly for the sake of jogging my own memory.

In the meanwhile, the Great American Odyssey has begun from the application stage. Paperwork has been sent back and forth, more remains to be settled, and there remains the interview at the US Embassy which I hope will not end up being in the middle of my papers.

So far, my recreational plans are as follows:

- check out every blues festival within driving distance (http://www.sonomatunes.com/blues_festivals.htm)

- check out every guitar shop within driving distance (you never know...the Holy Grail might just appear)

- drink lots of cheap and good beers and ales (I particularly liked this one the last time I went - http://www.sierranevada.com/index2.asp)

- check out many, many fine chicks (brunette, blondes, redheads, latinos...whatever comes my way.)

Any other suggestions (wild or otherwise) are most welcome, but ultimately subject to my approval.

 

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Monday, April 11, 2005

 

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