Okay, great, now that we’ve got that out of the way.

When I was young, my mum would sometimes bring it up. She’d assure me by saying, “You know, it’s okay to be colour-blind. You can still live your life normally, and you shouldn’t let this get you down.”

Her intentions were pure (bless her), and she only wanted to make sure that I didn’t feel that colour-blindness was a disability, which thankfully, I didn’t. I’d look at her and think, “I have no idea what you mean about living life normally, because I don’t think I’m living it abnormally or something.”

Over the years, it’s been great being colour-blind. Friends that’ve known me for a long time still constantly point to something and ask what colour it is. Since I’m red-green deficient, the usual answer is, “Oi, I’m colour-blind, not blind.”, which just eases the tension away from people even more. Meeting people for the first time, though, is a little bit more hard work. I think they go through the “Oh my goodness, what do I say to this guy now? It’s like he’s sharing his disability with me, and I have no idea how to react since I’ve just met him”, then to “Quick. Quick! Change the subject! At least avert your eyes!”, to “Whew that was close. Why the folk is this guy telling me all this stuff? We’re not that close.” It’s kinda funny watching people’s reactions when you first tell them that you’re colour-blind, because most people don’t like to talk about real things – it’s much easier to talk about others instead.

Anyhow, I just found out that one of my favourite games ever – Call of Duty: Modern Warfare – is releasing a colour blind assist option for their new installment. While I have no clue what that means (everything in black and white?), and since colour-blind people all have different degrees of colour-blindness, I find it fascinating. Might even cut down my game time, since I won’t need to miss seeing the enemy so often and get shot in the face as much. Love it.

http://xbox360.gamespy.com/xbox-360/call-of-duty-modern-warfare-3/1181318p1.html

Side-note: I am reminded of one of my uncles is well and truly colour-blind, like he sees the world in shades of black and white. During one Chinese New Year, he was showing off his brand new leather shoes when another uncle commented, “how come one of your socks is black, and the other is purple?” Since then, I always double-check my sock colours. Always.

Just finished watching Country Strong, and the last time I watched a movie that had Gwyneth Paltrow sing in it, it was more than 10 years ago in the movie Duets, which tanked. I personally enjoyed her performance in Cruisin’ and Betty Davis’ Eyes, but the rest of the movie? Not so much. Huey Lewis should probably best stay behind the lens on a CD cover instead, I reckon.

It was just great watching a country movie about love, loss, fame, truth, choice, tragedy, and redemption on different levels for different people. The acting is superb from Gwyneth Paltrow, and Tim McGraw surely must know how to act as a man with a really famous wife. I was particularly impressed with Garrett Hedlund, and didn’t realize he was in Tron: Legacy until I checked later. If anything, the Oscar-nominated sountrack is worth the price of admission if you’re a country fan. If not, get ready to be converted.

By sheer coincidence, I revisit New York during the coldest and bitter-est (you gotta love bastardizing words that way) winter in years, and of course, during coldest and bitter-est days of the coldest and bitter-est winter. Add that, jet-lag, alcohol, intense sessions and a cold, and it’s a recipe for weird sleeping habits, and worse, weird waking habits (aka waking up at 426am to blog).

The theme of seasons has been occurring to me a couple of times the past few months. Maybe it was triggered off when I went to London last year in fall, and there was a chance that I might’ve moved there, when I started looking at space and time in terms of seasons. Or maybe it was turning 30, and it was a symbolic turning of the seasons in my life. Or maybe I just miss having to freeze my butt off, have different sets of clothing, and less humidity. Either way, it occurred to me that seasons bookmark a person’s life and gives the year some definition. In Singapore, where it’s summer all year around, time passes so slow and yet so fast at the same time. Time is often defined by paycheck collection dates, Chinese New York, or Christmas. And of course, Monsoon season.

It is then that I’ve begun wondering what season of my life I am in, and what changes are a’coming. Nothing worse than to live a staid life without anything passionate about, and yet it seems perfectly normal in Singapore. If Singapore is not (at least the superficial) picture of normal, than what is? You buy a house, a car, get married, work hard from 9-6, have kids, travel up to Malaysia, go on holidays, get old and then ta-da, you’ve lived a perfectly nice and normal life. If you feel like something’s not going right, there’re enough bars, pubs, restaurants, other joints (not of the plant kind, the food and beverage and entertainment kind) to patch up the bullet wound for the moment. Before you know it, it’s time to get back to the desk to knock out the email/report that you needed to get done. That’s the plan, man. Just gotta find out which part of the curve you’re on, and keep at it right?

Right?

I don’t think it’s any different overseas, though. I thought it was, but now I’m beginning to realize that maybe it’s not. The search is within, and as spring goes and summer arrives, the laying of the seeds from season past will lead to fruition of the harvest to come. Who knows what it brings. There is often a sense of foreboding, and it’s been bugging me for the past 6 months. I sound like a fella with arthritis, but I feel a storm gathering.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704111504576059713528698754.html?mod=WSJASIA_hpp_RIGHTTopCarousel_1

I love the part at the end where the writer is recalling her experience of rebuking her children at a dinner party, and how everyone else completely were baffled. Brilliant.

It’s often a struggle, in East-meets-West Singapore, for someone like me – a student in Singapore for 12 years and subsequently a college grad in the US – to strike a fine balance between the horrors of being put through the rigours of growing up in an environment where you are pushed to do well, versus the wonderfully conjoured up world of “You can do it. I know you can. I believe in you”-world that the West promotes. Often times, upon reflection, a child never knows what he or she can achieve until they are pushed, rather than coaxed, because seriously, as adults we don’t like to be pressured to perform… How much more a child?

I also love this illustration:

“For example, if a child comes home with an A-minus on a test, a Western parent will most likely praise the child. The Chinese mother will gasp in horror and ask what went wrong. If the child comes home with a B on the test, some Western parents will still praise the child. Other Western parents will sit their child down and express disapproval, but they will be careful not to make their child feel inadequate or insecure, and they will not call their child “stupid,” “worthless” or “a disgrace.” Privately, the Western parents may worry that their child does not test well or have aptitude in the subject or that there is something wrong with the curriculum and possibly the whole school. If the child’s grades do not improve, they may eventually schedule a meeting with the school principal to challenge the way the subject is being taught or to call into question the teacher’s credentials.

If a Chinese child gets a B—which would never happen—there would first be a screaming, hair-tearing explosion. The devastated Chinese mother would then get dozens, maybe hundreds of practice tests and work through them with her child for as long as it takes to get the grade up to an A.”

ashita mata ganbarimasu. kami-sama, shigoto no chance wa arigatou.

Right, it’s just writing how you think someone’s an idiot, having them find your diary, and saying, “Well, I’m not going to comment on what I wrote, but seriously, let’s not read this the wrong way.” Let me see, you just called me a ‘big fat loser’… How else should I interpret this?

Ridonkculous.

Wikileaks stories below:

http://www.malaysia-today.net/mtcolumns/special-reports/36621-singapores-wikileaks-gaffes

http://www.smh.com.au/world/big-fat-red-faces-for-singapore-leaders-20101211-18teg.html

so put on your sunnies
say bye to the honeys;
it’s time to walk on
it’s time to be strong

http://blogs.wsj.com/hong-kong/2010/12/02/hong-kong-ranked-sixth-most-expensive-city-in-asia/

My mum is the Singapore auntie equivalent of a CTU agent on the phone.

“Hello.”

“Oh, hi ma. What’s up?”

“Are you coming back for dinner tonight?”

“Yup, should be back by 730..”

Then the line goes dead, and it happens all the time. No “good-byes”, no “alright, see you later”s. Just straight up, put the phone down and disconnect. I find it hilarious, because after that I can imagine my mum putting down the phone, and then going back to her handicraft. CTU extraordinaire! *grin*