Sunday, July 23, 2006
Morning has broken
I was semi-awoken by the sound of birds chirping and gentle sunlight through my window. In my slightly-less-than-comatose state, I struggled to recall the events of the previous evening. After the briefest of contemplations I gave up and turned over lazily to continue sleeping.
But something was not right. There weren’t supposed to be any birds. There wasn’t supposed to be any sunlight.
The sudden realization hit me like a freight train.
I burst out of bed and glanced at the clock to confirm my worst fears. Yeap, I forgot to set my alarm clock and was now woefully late for work, which was way beyond reach by public transport. If I had jumped onto a cab NOW, I would have been only 15 minutes late, not to mention $20 poorer. I hadn’t even completed a month at work and now I was going to clock in late before I even got my first paycheck. Not exactly a stunning impression to leave on the boss, not in the right way at least. It all seemed like a horrific nightmare and I was hoping to wake up and find that it was 1am, but the pain in my toe as I stubbed it against some random piece of furniture confirmed that I was very much alive, and also very much dead.
Adrenaline kicked in as I hobbled around the room and hastily threw on the first set of working clothes I could grab from the cupboard. I rummaged frantically through my desk for my wallet and phone, spilling some of its other occupants onto the floor. All manner of expletives ran through my head but didn’t have time to come out of my mouth. Dashing to the toilet, I strangled the life out of the hair gel tube and slapped the strangely-alcoholic smelling substance onto my hair before running a comb through like a rake on hay. I grabbed up my bag and did a quick equipment check as I raced out of the door.
All this while, 90.5FM was playing in the background on my Dad’s hifi, providing a grotesquely mismatched 80’s disco soundtrack to my horror movie. He was seated at the dining room table in his pyjamas, reading the papers with a cup of coffee. I’m usually the first to wake up in the morning to get ready and Dad gets up just before I head off to work, so there’s usually this overlap to ensure that I don’t oversleep. Which didn’t quite work out on this occasion.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He looked up from the papers with a look of surprise and incredulity, like I’d just suggested to him that the world was flat and carried on the shoulders of four giant clowns who were brothers of Ronald McDonald with colour-coded afros and had television screens on their posteriors.
“Are you crazy?”
“Today is Sunday.”
But something was not right. There weren’t supposed to be any birds. There wasn’t supposed to be any sunlight.
The sudden realization hit me like a freight train.
I burst out of bed and glanced at the clock to confirm my worst fears. Yeap, I forgot to set my alarm clock and was now woefully late for work, which was way beyond reach by public transport. If I had jumped onto a cab NOW, I would have been only 15 minutes late, not to mention $20 poorer. I hadn’t even completed a month at work and now I was going to clock in late before I even got my first paycheck. Not exactly a stunning impression to leave on the boss, not in the right way at least. It all seemed like a horrific nightmare and I was hoping to wake up and find that it was 1am, but the pain in my toe as I stubbed it against some random piece of furniture confirmed that I was very much alive, and also very much dead.
Adrenaline kicked in as I hobbled around the room and hastily threw on the first set of working clothes I could grab from the cupboard. I rummaged frantically through my desk for my wallet and phone, spilling some of its other occupants onto the floor. All manner of expletives ran through my head but didn’t have time to come out of my mouth. Dashing to the toilet, I strangled the life out of the hair gel tube and slapped the strangely-alcoholic smelling substance onto my hair before running a comb through like a rake on hay. I grabbed up my bag and did a quick equipment check as I raced out of the door.
All this while, 90.5FM was playing in the background on my Dad’s hifi, providing a grotesquely mismatched 80’s disco soundtrack to my horror movie. He was seated at the dining room table in his pyjamas, reading the papers with a cup of coffee. I’m usually the first to wake up in the morning to get ready and Dad gets up just before I head off to work, so there’s usually this overlap to ensure that I don’t oversleep. Which didn’t quite work out on this occasion.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He looked up from the papers with a look of surprise and incredulity, like I’d just suggested to him that the world was flat and carried on the shoulders of four giant clowns who were brothers of Ronald McDonald with colour-coded afros and had television screens on their posteriors.
“Are you crazy?”
“Today is Sunday.”
Thursday, July 13, 2006
NUS Commencement 2006
The Valedictorian Speech I Was Never Asked To Give
Good evening, Dean, faculty members, parents, friends and fellow graduates. It gives me great pleasure to address all of you tonight as an average NUS student who’s finally done after 4 years.
As all of you hold your empty cardboard scroll holders in your hands right now, one thought going through your minds should be that now is a good time to graduate. Sure, the job market is looking good and some of us even have jobs already, perhaps having had to sacrifice one day of no-pay leave to sit here in quaint gowns and appear scholarly. The economy is recovering steadily by government estimates, even as the income gap increases and the cost of living keeps going up, starting with taxi fares. The political climate is largely stable in the wake of the recent general elections, thanks to our governments’ diligence in rooting out dissenting views and shutting down sources of criticism in the media.
But those aren’t the only reasons to be glad. While we gingerly take our first steps into the working world, let us not forget the alma mater that we leave behind and look back upon the constant change and evolution that NUS is going through.
The buildings within our campus are becoming a sight to behold, more so with each passing day. Our university admin now works out of a spanking new University Hall after moving out from their recently renovated premises, no doubt an extension of the policy of continual upgrading. Amazingly, this policy co-exists in perfect harmony with campus planning that combines the modern architecture of the glass-facade University Hall with the old-world rustic charm of wooden benches in the most venerable of lecture theatres. Balancing the preservation of our history while forging ahead in modernity is a complex task made to look easy by our planners, who almost seem like they could do it blindfolded.
We must also thank our university for preparing us for the rest of our lives as Singapore citizens, for life in NUS is a perfect microcosm of life in Singapore society. The fee hike to be thrust upon subsequent batches is a reflection of the current trend of increases and was decided upon in a highly expedient fashion, in the context of the above-mentioned continual upgrading and the increasing numbers of professors being hired. As academia of NUS, they are expected to carry out ground-breaking research and write papers to change the world, and they must be paid accordingly in order to attract top talents and retain them. Like every good organization there is a healthy mix of abilities, some of them brilliant researchers and some being excellent teachers. By cross-training and exposing the researchers to the teaching environment, the aim is to bring out the best of their communication skills to share their knowledge with students. This is an admirable goal which they will continue to work towards.
The news of the fare hike decision was also delivered in a utilitarian no-nonsense fashion, after which the university admin sought to engage the student body and allow them to air their views, all of which were duly noted. Again, with parallels to our nations Great Casino Debate, this is a Singaporean way of life which NUS seeks to get students accustomed to. The concept of Asian-style democratic decision-making was constantly impressed upon us, and I’m sure most of us would by now understand the expectations of the social contract for Singapore citizens.
And what would a world-class university be without world-class marketing? If we want to continue pulling in students from the world over (or at least closer to our part of the world), then we must project the image of being an international institution. I’m sure many of you would have seen the advertisements for NUS business school, cleverly aimed at a generation brought up on Beverly Hills 90210 and Friends. The portrayal of an American household and a prospective American student foregoing many of her prestigious local colleges in favour of NUS is a fantastic piece of image management, perhaps surpassing that of even our armed forces recruitment ads. For this, I must single out the NUS business school marketing team for applause, for their creative and liberal use of advertising license.
*stops to take a sip from an unmarked stainless steel flask*
My fellow graduates, after having watched each and every one of our relatively large faculty come up to this stage individually to collect the piece of paper for which we have toiled, I’m quite sure the foremost thing on your mind (as it is on mine) is having to wake up before sunrise to head for work the next day. I therefore conclude this speech, and wish all of you the very best.
And good luck.
Good evening, Dean, faculty members, parents, friends and fellow graduates. It gives me great pleasure to address all of you tonight as an average NUS student who’s finally done after 4 years.
As all of you hold your empty cardboard scroll holders in your hands right now, one thought going through your minds should be that now is a good time to graduate. Sure, the job market is looking good and some of us even have jobs already, perhaps having had to sacrifice one day of no-pay leave to sit here in quaint gowns and appear scholarly. The economy is recovering steadily by government estimates, even as the income gap increases and the cost of living keeps going up, starting with taxi fares. The political climate is largely stable in the wake of the recent general elections, thanks to our governments’ diligence in rooting out dissenting views and shutting down sources of criticism in the media.
But those aren’t the only reasons to be glad. While we gingerly take our first steps into the working world, let us not forget the alma mater that we leave behind and look back upon the constant change and evolution that NUS is going through.
The buildings within our campus are becoming a sight to behold, more so with each passing day. Our university admin now works out of a spanking new University Hall after moving out from their recently renovated premises, no doubt an extension of the policy of continual upgrading. Amazingly, this policy co-exists in perfect harmony with campus planning that combines the modern architecture of the glass-facade University Hall with the old-world rustic charm of wooden benches in the most venerable of lecture theatres. Balancing the preservation of our history while forging ahead in modernity is a complex task made to look easy by our planners, who almost seem like they could do it blindfolded.
We must also thank our university for preparing us for the rest of our lives as Singapore citizens, for life in NUS is a perfect microcosm of life in Singapore society. The fee hike to be thrust upon subsequent batches is a reflection of the current trend of increases and was decided upon in a highly expedient fashion, in the context of the above-mentioned continual upgrading and the increasing numbers of professors being hired. As academia of NUS, they are expected to carry out ground-breaking research and write papers to change the world, and they must be paid accordingly in order to attract top talents and retain them. Like every good organization there is a healthy mix of abilities, some of them brilliant researchers and some being excellent teachers. By cross-training and exposing the researchers to the teaching environment, the aim is to bring out the best of their communication skills to share their knowledge with students. This is an admirable goal which they will continue to work towards.
The news of the fare hike decision was also delivered in a utilitarian no-nonsense fashion, after which the university admin sought to engage the student body and allow them to air their views, all of which were duly noted. Again, with parallels to our nations Great Casino Debate, this is a Singaporean way of life which NUS seeks to get students accustomed to. The concept of Asian-style democratic decision-making was constantly impressed upon us, and I’m sure most of us would by now understand the expectations of the social contract for Singapore citizens.
And what would a world-class university be without world-class marketing? If we want to continue pulling in students from the world over (or at least closer to our part of the world), then we must project the image of being an international institution. I’m sure many of you would have seen the advertisements for NUS business school, cleverly aimed at a generation brought up on Beverly Hills 90210 and Friends. The portrayal of an American household and a prospective American student foregoing many of her prestigious local colleges in favour of NUS is a fantastic piece of image management, perhaps surpassing that of even our armed forces recruitment ads. For this, I must single out the NUS business school marketing team for applause, for their creative and liberal use of advertising license.
*stops to take a sip from an unmarked stainless steel flask*
My fellow graduates, after having watched each and every one of our relatively large faculty come up to this stage individually to collect the piece of paper for which we have toiled, I’m quite sure the foremost thing on your mind (as it is on mine) is having to wake up before sunrise to head for work the next day. I therefore conclude this speech, and wish all of you the very best.
And good luck.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Jimi Hendrix - Hey Joe
The first week at work went by slightly faster than expected, perhaps due to the need to sleep early in order to catch the World Cup semis and head straight to work after.
It’s the typical office environment. Bright fluorescent lights, plasticky desks and cubicle partitions, the constant whirring of printers and photocopiers going about their daily business and the background symphony of machines on the shop floor pounding and grinding to the beat of the omnipresent baton of production. I spent most of the week reading up and trying stuff out on the computer to get up to speed, in between the various administrative matters of being a new employee.
During this time I met one of my best friends in the office. His name is Joe. Everyone say hi to Joe.
“Hi Joe.”
Yeap, Joe is the kind you want to have with you in the office, especially one as ridiculously air-conditioned as mine (for a tropical country, we’re really crazy about it). He keeps you awake when you’re sleepy, keeps you warm when you’re cold, keeps you occupied when you’re bored, makes you look more hard-working than you really are and always beckons you to the pantry. I meet Joe maybe 2 or 3 times a day as per required, with empty mug in hand.
The humble coffee bean has evolved from being the sustenance of hardy nomads to being the sustenance of sedentary office-folk. It is the 2nd most traded commodity after oil, but I have a feeling that most other industries would collapse without it, with billions of office-folk falling asleep at their desks or convulsing sleepily on the floors of their pantry from caffeine withdrawal. Even the police forces(what, donuts without coffee?) and militaries would not function, which might in turn lead to social and global turmoil. If some of the so-called terrorists and nuclear-wannabes wanted to annihilate their enemies, they would perhaps do better spending more time and money on a coffee plant disease than on misguided ideologies and launching missiles.
“Insolent fools! You have crossed us for the last time! In an hour from now, we shall unleash the Coffee Flu upon this hapless world and there’s no way you can stop us! Each and every coffee bean will try a wretched death and we shall laugh over your tired, sleeping bodies as we march into every city and town to achieve world domination!”
*cue evil laughter*
I shudder at the thought. Let us be grateful and give thanks as we sip our cuppa joe.
“Thanks Joe.”
It’s the typical office environment. Bright fluorescent lights, plasticky desks and cubicle partitions, the constant whirring of printers and photocopiers going about their daily business and the background symphony of machines on the shop floor pounding and grinding to the beat of the omnipresent baton of production. I spent most of the week reading up and trying stuff out on the computer to get up to speed, in between the various administrative matters of being a new employee.
During this time I met one of my best friends in the office. His name is Joe. Everyone say hi to Joe.
“Hi Joe.”
Yeap, Joe is the kind you want to have with you in the office, especially one as ridiculously air-conditioned as mine (for a tropical country, we’re really crazy about it). He keeps you awake when you’re sleepy, keeps you warm when you’re cold, keeps you occupied when you’re bored, makes you look more hard-working than you really are and always beckons you to the pantry. I meet Joe maybe 2 or 3 times a day as per required, with empty mug in hand.
The humble coffee bean has evolved from being the sustenance of hardy nomads to being the sustenance of sedentary office-folk. It is the 2nd most traded commodity after oil, but I have a feeling that most other industries would collapse without it, with billions of office-folk falling asleep at their desks or convulsing sleepily on the floors of their pantry from caffeine withdrawal. Even the police forces(what, donuts without coffee?) and militaries would not function, which might in turn lead to social and global turmoil. If some of the so-called terrorists and nuclear-wannabes wanted to annihilate their enemies, they would perhaps do better spending more time and money on a coffee plant disease than on misguided ideologies and launching missiles.
“Insolent fools! You have crossed us for the last time! In an hour from now, we shall unleash the Coffee Flu upon this hapless world and there’s no way you can stop us! Each and every coffee bean will try a wretched death and we shall laugh over your tired, sleeping bodies as we march into every city and town to achieve world domination!”
*cue evil laughter*
I shudder at the thought. Let us be grateful and give thanks as we sip our cuppa joe.
“Thanks Joe.”
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Once in a lifetime
I went back to NUS the other day to pick up my graduation gown for Commencement 2006 and for the most part it was pretty smooth, apart from the pinch of having to pay the rental fee. Truth be told, if my parents didn’t want to go I would have saved the money and spent the evening on something else more productive like say, beer with pals or conjuring up a new blog entry.
But anyway, after I went through the miscellaneous stations and picked up all the paraphernalia, I was immediately approached by a lady selling plastic reproductions of degrees (the kind that doctors and dentists always hang on their walls for credibility) and she was pretty nice about it, helping me to pack the thousand and one items which threatened to spill out of my arms. Following which, out of obligation I went to view a display of all their products.
My sense of obligation ended there however, and making references to my limited budget in no uncertain terms I declined to place an order, instead asking for a name card, citing possible future considerations.
That was not the end of it. Photo studios had shrewdly set up brightly-coloured booths along the only way to the exit, proudly displaying portraits of scholarly-looking people posing in the gown to wow people into wanting one of themselves. Next to them was some memorabilia store with all sorts of graduation-themed knick-knacks like teddy bears in graduation gowns (complete with gold-rimmed spectacles), T-shirts and mugs and other what-not. The whole “feel-good-about-graduation-whoopee-it’s-over” mood seems to be a good excuse to cash in.
I couldn’t avoid the photo studio though. Dad was strangely keen to have portrait photos of the family taken for the first time and I didn’t have the heart to refuse, even though my aversion to being photographed has been well-documented. He even booked the studio before I went to collect the gown. True enough, holding uncomfortable poses and smiling awkwardly till my cheeks went numb were the order of the day, but worst of all were the unrelenting flashlights that gave me a headache for the rest of the day, almost similar to another unfortunate incident involving flashing lights.
Perhaps it’s just me, but I’m just not the sort to accumulate (or at least not pay for) nostalgic trinkets. I prefer to look to the future without being excessively shackled to the past, just as how I’m thinking more about my first day of work tomorrow rather than Commencement. Teddy bears will become unsanitary dust balls and paper scrolls will yellow with time, but the knowledge and experiences are the ones that will stay with me.
They say it’s once in a lifetime.
Thank God.
But anyway, after I went through the miscellaneous stations and picked up all the paraphernalia, I was immediately approached by a lady selling plastic reproductions of degrees (the kind that doctors and dentists always hang on their walls for credibility) and she was pretty nice about it, helping me to pack the thousand and one items which threatened to spill out of my arms. Following which, out of obligation I went to view a display of all their products.
My sense of obligation ended there however, and making references to my limited budget in no uncertain terms I declined to place an order, instead asking for a name card, citing possible future considerations.
That was not the end of it. Photo studios had shrewdly set up brightly-coloured booths along the only way to the exit, proudly displaying portraits of scholarly-looking people posing in the gown to wow people into wanting one of themselves. Next to them was some memorabilia store with all sorts of graduation-themed knick-knacks like teddy bears in graduation gowns (complete with gold-rimmed spectacles), T-shirts and mugs and other what-not. The whole “feel-good-about-graduation-whoopee-it’s-over” mood seems to be a good excuse to cash in.
I couldn’t avoid the photo studio though. Dad was strangely keen to have portrait photos of the family taken for the first time and I didn’t have the heart to refuse, even though my aversion to being photographed has been well-documented. He even booked the studio before I went to collect the gown. True enough, holding uncomfortable poses and smiling awkwardly till my cheeks went numb were the order of the day, but worst of all were the unrelenting flashlights that gave me a headache for the rest of the day, almost similar to another unfortunate incident involving flashing lights.
Perhaps it’s just me, but I’m just not the sort to accumulate (or at least not pay for) nostalgic trinkets. I prefer to look to the future without being excessively shackled to the past, just as how I’m thinking more about my first day of work tomorrow rather than Commencement. Teddy bears will become unsanitary dust balls and paper scrolls will yellow with time, but the knowledge and experiences are the ones that will stay with me.
They say it’s once in a lifetime.
Thank God.
