Towers

I'm sitting in the plane, back from Incheon, Korea (it was a one hour transit on the way back from San Francisco) and I'm thinking of her.

I miss her.

I don't miss her all day, every day. It depends on the environment. Right now the plane's quiet and sleepy and the blanket drawn up around me's comfortable, so I want her in a seat besides me. In San Francisco I didn't want her there - it didn't feel safe, especially when I was making my way back at night. (My friends say they'd heard gunshots one night out in SF, and got so bloody scared they drove back home to Mountain View and didn't return for a few weeks.)

American cities are strange. San Francisco is ugly and large, and while I got rather good at navigating the city, I never understood the way the poor, homeless people could coexist next to the yuppies walking down the street. I got out at the Civic Centre BART station, and stood there, mouth agape, at one of the most beautiful parks I'd ever seen in SF. I was about to take out a camera when a well-dressed old woman saw my open mouth and asked if I needed help — she gave me directions and then warned me to 'watch my wallet'.

On Saturday, after a meeting with another publishing startup in the city, I took a CalTrain down to Mountain View. Angad picked me up in a VW convertible.

Mountain View is beautiful. It's nearer to winter now, and so there are wild splashes of pink and reds in the underbrush. The streets are clean. The shops look sleepy and small, and Castro Street is chockful of quaint food shops (all healthy, in typical Californian fashion).

Angad took the roof down and we drove to Palo Alto, where Stanford is. The whole area leading out of SF is beautiful. It was then, driving in the cool ocean breeze, with the roof down and music blaring, did I wish that I could bring her down with me to see what I saw.

I'm sure London is as beautiful as California is. One day, we'd go together to explore the whole city. But we explore everything, anyway. It's only a matter of time.

Personal Update

Public service announcement! Tadaaa, this is Ida:


Ida is my girlfriend.


(This is my mum. Don't worry, mum, Ida is nice!)


I like Ida very much. We see here how she demonstrates the relative shortness of a Lamborghini.


Ida makes me very happy. :3


Ida is in Kuching at the moment, while I am at Singapore. She is going to London in September.


I no like LDRs. But there is one good thing about them.


Arrivals are made more awesome by waiting the distance. I am excited to go back to Kuching to be with Ida! I miss her so. <3

The Bob Review

Folks, meet ... Bob:

Yes, Bob is a 13-inch unibody Macbook, and no, I didn't choose the name. As I remember it, I didn't even have a say in the matter ... and now the Bob's Bob regardless of what I do say. But anyway. I've been fiddling with the Macbook for a couple of weeks now, doing the expected new-laptop things like installing fancy unneeded programs, changing the desktop background once every two days, and fiddling with the folder structure to figure out where to my torrents documents go; plus et all, etc etc. But if you own a laptop, and you are a geek (as I am) then it's very likely that you've already gone through such a phase ... and so in which case you can now nod along with me in mutual understanding and ignore the confused looks of everyone else who haven't yet gotten to the heartwarming and ultimately grown-up stage of owning your own computer. Which I now have. Grown up. 3 weeks ago. Yes.

The Macbook looks great, both from above, with the screen closed, and in use, with the lid up and the laptop in front of you. The body's solid aluminium, finished in this wonderful metallic sheen, and there are almost no ridges or grooves anywhere on the notebook apart from the battery-compartment release, which is below the body, and the thumbscoop at the very front of the Macbook. There's also this acrylic Apple logo up top that lights up when the Macbook's in use, and smudges over when it's not; I particular enjoy rubbing it to see my fingerprints warp over the plastic and then wipe it clean, and then rub it again to wipe it clean to rub it again, and so on so forth. Not so much when that happens on the glass screen, but that's getting ahead of myself.

The 'unibody' designation means that this Macbook was build from one solid block of aluminium, which was lasered out and washed, and then fitted with electronics directly mounted onto the unibody itself. Apple claims that the unibody allows them to make lighter and tougher Macbooks, and thus far they seem to right on one count: this laptop's the lightest I've ever carried, even when compared to the other polycarbonate Macbooks my friends own; and it feels rock solid. But tough it isn't, not really: based on anecdotal evidence the unibody Macbook cannot survive a forceful drop on gravel, and where a polycarbonate body would - at worse - be cracked, the danger in this case would be for the Macbook to dent, damaging the mounted Logicboard in the process. (There's also been a lot of complaints that the unibody dents easily, so I'm now hunting for a good sleeve/laptop bag.)

Another minor complaint is the display itself. The Macbook's screen is covered with a sheet of glass, and the LED-backlit display is absolutely fantastic for watching movies or doing photograpy-related post-processing. Apple promises the best colour reproduction money can buy ... and on that front, at least, the Macbook does not disappoint. Colours practically pop off screen and onto your lap, and it's pretty hard for photographs to look bad on the Macbook display - it's just too bright, too polished, and too beautiful for anything to look particularly ugly. But the downside to this fidelity is that the Macbook's screen is also very glossy. And when I say glossy, I don't just mean glare - glare's something you get from, say, iPod screens. When I say glossy I mean that the whole Macbook display is a mirror in itself, and whenever you turn the backlight down your face practically pops onscreen the exact same way the colours did a couple minutes before. In this way, at least, you get to preen right before and after you use the Macbook, making this computer possibly the most narcissistic thing I have ever owned.

A review about a Macbook is also - essentially - a review about Apple's software, and this review won't be complete without talking a little about how it feels to live, and work, with OSX. If there ever is a reason for you to get a Macintosh computer, OSX is it. It's hard to describe the joy of the platform to a Windows user, or how OSX gently changes the way you think about computers, but here's my best shot: the Mac is fun. It's fast, for starters, meaning anything and everything you throw at it would still run faster than on a Windows machine; it's stable - meaning it almost never crashes; it's easy to use - printers, mice and internet connections are all basically plug and play, and then drag and drop; and then there's Expose ... which is God's gift to the OCD multitasker. There are a hundred and one things that work together to make the Mac environment more fun to use than a Windows machine, but the space here is limited ... so allow me to toss you just one example of how a Mac is better than Windows: program installation.

In Windows, installing a program feels like planting a tree, where the program puts down roots into the depths of your system. When you uninstall that program, you uproot the tree ... and you leave behind bits of root and bark, stuck in dark places like your program files folder and the system registry. Mac's program installation is drag and drop, and it feels less like planting a tree than it does like inviting a guest to stay in your home. The guest comes with his briefcases all packed, and he's happy to do what he does because everything he needs is in the briefcases he brings along with him. And the best thing about it? You can shift the guest anyhow you like within your house, or even kick him out ... and he works just as fine, whichever way you like it. Uninstallation on Mac? Drag the program icon to your bin and click empty. And within seconds, your program is gone.

On to writing, that activity that consumes about 70% of my computer time: typing on the Macbook is wonderful. The unibody Macbook's keys are black against the aluminium indent that holds them, and they're tactile and wonderful to the fingers ... at once familiar and foreign, and unlike any other keyboard I've touched before. Two years ago, while working on The Square with a Macbook, I complained about the keyboard spacing to Tay, who has one. He scoffed and told me that I didn't know what I was talking about. And I didn't. This keyboard - black plastic and curved corners and rounded tops - is the pinnacle of keyboard engineering, and I now love it to bits.

Note the edges: they're really sharp.

Two other things I must point out: the unibody Macbook's palm rest is 90 degrees of sharp aluminium, and it cuts into your wrists as you type. This is probably the worst design element of the product, and it isn't noticeable when you're trying it out in stores because you're standing while you're typing and the angle of your fingers are such that your wrists don't actually come in contact with the edges. But if you write a lot, like I do, you'll find that the Macbook's palm rest is as unforgiving as a bed of nettles to a naked ass, and probably just as painful.

Secondly, OSX doesn't treat mice and cursors the same way Windows does, and I found the cursor movement with my Logitech Laser mouse to be less consistent and somewhat jerky as compared to the built-in glass trackpad. The problem turns out to be Apple's handling of the mouse acceleration curve in OSX - things that are supposed to be smooth are not, and the speed from which I can jerk the mouse is rather inconsistent with the way I know mice are supposed to behave. The answer? Third party, firmware-level software, and my mouse now gives me the performance I expect of it.

Conclusion? I love my Macbook, and I think it's a good buy regardless of the few flaws I've shown you above. Would I recommend it to you? Absolutely not. Six days after I ordered my Macbook Apple announced a new line of Macbook Pros, the cheapest of which effectively became the replacement to my Macbook - only faster, cheaper, and with a cutting-edge 7-hour battery attached. So go get that one, instead.

And as for me? I'm happy with Bob, and I'm happy with the way Bob's been treating me lately. It's hard not to be happy when you've got a sexy, curvy little thing sitting by your bed for the past 3 weeks. And if this can be described a relationship, then I suppose you'd say that I'm still trying to get her to sleep with me ... but rest assured that Bob and I currently sleep on two different beds - me in mine and her on my table. And in the dark, when I'm about to turn in for the night and there's a splinter of moonlight across the room, I see the warm, silver glow of her curves ... and I tell myself, hell, I'm one lucky guy.

Trust me on this one: I think I'm in love.

I Heart The Time Traveler's Wife

1984 (Clare is 12, Henry is 36)

After an interval of tickling and trashing around we lie on the ground with our hands clasped across our middles and Clare asks, "Is your wife a time traveler too?"

"Nope. Thank God."

"Why 'thank God'? I think that would be fun. You could go places together."

"One time traveler per family is more than enough. It's dangerous, Clare."

"Does she ever worry about you?"

"Yes," I say softly. "She does." I wonder what Clare is doing now, in 1999. Maybe she's still asleep. Maybe she won't know I'm gone.

"Do you love her?"

"Very much." I whisper. We lie silently side by side, watching the swaying trees, the birds, the sky. I hear a muffled sniffling noise and glancing at Clare I am astonished to see that tears are streaming across her face toward her ears. I sit up and lean over her. "What's wrong, Clare?" She just shakes her head back and forth and presses her lips together. I smooth her hair, and pull her into a sitting position, wrap my arms around her. She's a child, and then again she isn't. "What's wrong?"

It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: "It's just that I thought maybe you were married to me."

Note: Yes, The Time Traveler's Wife is a novel. Nadia recommended it to me about two years ago, but I ignored her advice ("There's a lot of sex in it!"), until a lack of books in Penang's Popular forced me to purchase a copy. I love it. It is one of the most intelligent, heart-rending love stories I have ever read. I have since learnt my lesson: when Nadia recommends a book, BUY IT. Immediately.

Here are some more stills from the movie, slated for release later this year.

2007 In Review

When I was small I remember mum wringing her hands in exasperation at my grandfather: "He cannot sit still wan! Always tinkering around with the house!" This was, mind you, despite of his old age: my grandfather seemed to be forever welding and laying brick and putting together some new frame for orchids or flowers or mango trees.

That eternal itchiness to create something, to turn your house into an ever changing project, to cement and lay brick and pane glass ... is hereditary. I am myself eternally itchy, and my paws are too frequently involved in creating rather than finishing my work.

2007 is a year described in fragments. Projects. Still-lifes painted in erratic intervals.

Most of those fragments went uncaptured.

One example: The Square. The role of chief editor was shoved onto my plate; Ravin disappeared to prepare for the STPM and I was left with exactly a month to push one bloody issue out. Thank God for Jylene and Tay, and the Form 3s who had gone around collecting reports in September.

My design sketches of The Square.

The final product: Tay's handiwork.

There are other get-togethers that I have pictures of but did not get down to write. Here are some of them:

The Children's Bible Camp

Where we got bombed for sleeping with each other (or not being gender segregated lah, but that's a long story).

McD get-together

With Josh, Andrew Ho, Aileen and Tay. Classic line from that gathering:

"What religion are you?"

"Christian!"

"What denomination?"

"Buddhist!"

Tay's and Andrew's birthday

Where we went to Bing and made Nickki die of manboobs laughter.

Relationships

2007 reminded me we all fall prey to our hormones. It's pathetic, it's downright frightful, and very often the object of your affections may turn out to be the exact thing you should stay away from.

2007 taught me to value the old friendships I have, to deepen a few with people I didn't know that well, and to recognize the inherent differences between our egos.

2007, ironically enough, has loosened the Internet's hold on me.

Sacrifices

The past two weeks have been spent studying like mad throughout the afternoon and then driving to the dojo for hard Judo training. I went through my fair share of injuries: a strained back muscle, a swollen foot, bruises where you don't want bruises to happen. Sukma is during the mid term holidays next year, with the STPM not too far behind, and this means two very big things:

1. I can no longer go online as much as I would like
2. I can no longer attend UGS gatherings

It's hard, it's sad, but to do reasonably well in both studies and sport something has to go. That something is my social life.

This also means I can't spend as much time as I like maintaining my online presence(s). I am tired of playing two people, and keeping some projects secret. For those of you who wonder why I'm often distracted during chatting sessions: this was the centre of my attention. I've to slow down the thinking and writing there, but I'm thankful for the people I met through it.

A Birthday To Remember

I've no time to blog about this in detail, but I am very, very blessed to have friends that pulled my birthday off:

• To Sam, Jylene: thank you for organizing the whole damned thing.
• To Amanda: thank you for the midnight call (and birthday song).
• To Nickki (and Jyl): thank you for the cake.
• To Tay, Max, Paul: thank you for the presents.
• To Vivian, Kenny, Andrew, Danny, Sean, Dwen, Aldrin, thank you for being there and witnessing my stripper humiliation coming of age.
• To Ruby, Jason, Aaron, Janice, A. Wendy, U. Albert and the teens: thank you for the singing.
• To Zhe Rong, Elaine, Wen Qi, Tze Lun, Garrick, thank you for the well wishes.
• To Hrafn, thank you for the points.
  
• And to countless others who have wished me, slapped me, thrown me, and said Happy Birthday: you guys rock.

2007 was pretty cool, overall. There's so much to talk about, and so little online time to do it. Here my pen stops, and I let this post slip from my fingers and onto your screens, wishing you Merry Christmas and may you have a great year ahead!

Boy Girl Relationships

Viv-ian says: you're 17
Viv-ian says: don't you think you should find a gf?
Dienasty says: ehheh
Viv-ian says: My bro just ask me
Viv-ian says: Sed got gf already or not?
Viv-ian says: Ced*

I think this warrants a proper reply over here, in case you all start calling me gay.

I'm sure there are many thoughts on this topic: some think we should save ourselves for the One, others think we should have as many relationships as possible to gain 'experience'. One guy I met online expressed the need to explore each other thoroughly, physically, before marriage. And I'm sure you all understand what that means.

What do I think about it?

Why don't I have a girlfriend at the moment?

Why? What? How? When?


My answer is desceptively simple: Finding a girlfriend is not high on my list of priorities at the moment.

A good debator (like certain parts of my right hemisphere ... and Paul) would probe further: why?

Hmm. Let's take a look at my theoritical list of priorities:

1. God
2. Judo
3. Studies
4. (Novel) writing
5. UGS
6. Blogging
7. Girls
8. Learning how to drive without hitting sheep

My real set of priorities:
1. Judo
2. God
3. UGS
4. Blogging
5. (Novel) writing
6. Girls
7. Learning how to drive without hitting sheep
8. Studies

Probable reason no 1: I'm in an all boys school. This means there's limited face to face contact with the opposite sex. And if you're wondering, the guys in St Thom do not find trees or cats to mate with due to the lack of girls. Nor do we turn into pondans (nevermind ... back to topic).

Probable reason no 2: Judo rocks too much. Have you ever loved a sport? I just realized today why so many people are reluctant to play Judo: it's addictive. There is no such thing as a light game of Judo. Basketball yes, badminton yes. In Judo every session is a focused, mind challenging event where you get to give your best and have your efforts returned to you. Or vice versa. I love it. Judo is my significant other. I'll paraphrase Rene Descartes: I Judo, therefore I am.

Probable reason no 3: The SPM/STPM is one of the toughest exams ever created. Other than, of course, those religious primitive hoop ball games where the losing team gets sacrificed to the pagan God. Or the Chinese examinations before communism - examiners locked up in a room for a week. Oh, sorry, I was degressing.

Probable reason no 4: I haven't met her yet? I haven't found the courage to ask?

But yeah, it's true. Girls aren't very high on my list of priorities right now. Another conversation:

Girl 1: Which school are you from?
Me: St Thom.
Girl 1: Really? I thought you were from a co-ed ...
Me (drums fingers on table and narrows eyes): Now really .... What makes you say that?
Girl 1: Urm, no lah, because you're ... err ...
Girl 2: Crazy?

Which is actually quite funny, and it hits the nail right on the head: I have no problem mixing around with girls. It's beyond that scares me, and which I have no care for (if compared to the joys of finally outwitting Tang, that is).

And as I write this I'd like all of you to keep in mind a saying I picked up from some novel: God loves to twist man's declarations and force him back on his words.

Let's hope this doesn't happen too soon here.