Social Nightmare

There is a bit of a voyeur and exhibitionist in every one of us.

With Facebook, there is an almost constant need to "status update". To let people know what you're doing, how you're feeling, where you went, what you ate for lunch, how cold the weather is, why you're feeling happy or mad, which concert you attended, how late you worked last night, and so on.

Practically every move you make, if there is Internet access there and then, chances are all your online friends will know.

What is scary sometimes, and I'm also guilty of that too, is that we tend to put our private thoughts as our status updates. Thoughts we would probably not say out loud if there wasn't Facebook. And the reason we wouldn't say is out loud in the first place is like I mentioned, it is private. I believe when some private thoughts get into public exchanges, they could lead to misunderstandings.

That explains why Facebook is so popular.


PomChatChat is just feeling moody.

My Son at 14 Weeks

My bossy son looking down at us commonfolks from his throne.

Deepavali weekend and a great Indian comedian.

Child disciplining, just how far do you go?

No Joking Now.

Keith Olbermann was once the funny anchorman of ESPN's Sports Center.

Presidential Comedians

You can always trust the Americans to come up with something funny, even for an important event.

I'm a non-American Democrat advocate, so here's Obama taking a jab at McCain. You can follow the other related videos to McCain's equally good comedic stab at Obama.

Apple Of My Eye

I didn't quite believe it, but I spent nearly three and a half hours waiting in line for my Apple 3G iPhone. Yup, I caved in to greed and first-class American-styled marketing.

So, there I was, standing behind 20 other adults, clearly tired from the working day. My eyes wandered, desperately trying to find something to focus to make the waiting less painful. As you can probably imagine, some shop that specialises only in Apple products, conveniently located right next to Singtel, where throngs of zombie-like consumers stare at more Apple products.

"I... must... have... that..."

Anyway, the 20-inch Mac monitor demo'ed the latest Sims2 game pack called Castaways. Normally, if you're cast on any deserted island with no broadband access, you are as good as dead. But somehow the characters in the game look very happy. They also miraclously picked up hunting, house-building and other survival skills that soldiers take months to learn. Hmm... "Where got in dire situation still so happy?" Not realistic at all, crappy game (unlike COD4, ha!).

Hmm... standing in line for 20 freaking-minutes and haven't moved an inch (pretty dire if you ask me), and I'm happy because there's only 20 more jokers in front of me. Hmm... maybe the pain is not that bad if the end-game is worth it.

So, back to my main topic. Not the Apple iPhone. My son, Elliot, the apple of my eye. My wife and I are first-time parents. And I'll be honest, we are not very good at it. There is no amount of preparation that will set you up to be a good parent. But luckily, Elliot's been pretty forgiving so far.

He cries for no apparent reason every now and then. Well, actually, there's always a reason, it's just that we don't know it yet. Babies work in mysterious ways, as do God. So, every cry is answered with some apprehension, a dash of suspicion and a whole lot of confusion.

Just two weeks ago, we thought he is a colicky baby. Then we were pretty sure he has a condition call reflux. Last week, we were convinced he had hernia. Of course, every "ailment" meant a trip to the paediatrician, which in term meant "ka-ching" for the old man dressed in the white robe. On all occasions, our suspicions were wrong. Our baby was a normal, healthy, little bundle of joy. The old man's "he's fine" cost us $65 each time. Of course, we grumble and curse at ourselves for being such ka-jiong parents, but under our breaths we know it's money well-spent.

Elliot is getting stronger every day. He surprised me the other day by lifting his head while lying my chest. I thought it was a one-off event, but he went on to push and position himself to the obviously more "cushy" region of the tummy. Are one-month old babies supposed to do that?

Speaking of one-month old, we shaved the little man bald. We did it for a few reasons. One, the symbolic act is supposed to represent something; two, his hair was too long; and three, he was shedding his baby hair. We spent $7.50 at the Indian barber outside our estate. 10 minutes and an electric clipper later, he was botak. But he's definitely has our hair genes though. It grew within two weeks, and the texture was quite coarse. Not like sandpaper coarse, but definitely not Clairol silky soft.

First month has been tough, and I mean for everyone in the family. Bowel explosions, urine fountains, leaky teats, tempers flaring, sore necks, sleep deprivation, piling office work, zero social life, aching shoulders, the list goes on.

The pain is not that bad because the end-game is worth it. We can't wait for the second month.

My One-Week Old Son

Call Of Duty 5

For those who know me, I've been rather engrossed in a PC game called "Call Of Duty 4 - Modern Warfare" in recent months. So much so that my wife sometimes think I'm addicted to it. She is 75% correct. Last Saturday, I upgraded to "Call Of Duty 5 - Baby's Arrival".

My wife finally gave birth to our baby boy. Both of us were caught off-guard because he decided to spring a surprise two days ahead of schedule. It has been a sleep-deprivation marathon since then. I'm averaging about four or five hours sleep a day, and my wife, maybe, just two-thirds of that. Poor darling.

The little bundle came into my arms rather peacefully at first. Then, when the nurse started to unwrap him for the weighing, he exploded into this Civil Defence Emergency Siren that couldn't be switched off. I was torn between being smug about my boy's strong lungs and feeling "Oh no, what did I get myself into?"

As for my wife, she has officially become the little man's personal milk machine. I admired her fortitude and insistence on breast-feeding our boy. "Breast is best" they say. Judging from the amount of pain, effort and energy needed for breast-feeding, I'd say only a mother would sacrifice that much.

It's been a roller coaster ride since the baby came. On one hand, we're absolutely overjoyed by his arrival. Afterall, we've been waiting for this moment for eight months and some weeks. On the other hand, we are constantly fed with "guidance and tips" from every person we know and under the watchful eyes of every relative, distant or close. The latter is driving both of us a little nuts at times. But of course we keep reminding ourselves, "it is with good intentions...".

If you are wondering what's the baby's name, well, we are not quite sure yet. We thought it was going to be Elliot, at least I did. But so far only close friends, and moderns ones at that, approve of the name. My in-laws have been giving quite a bit of negative feedback. My mom, aunt and cousins have been pronouncing it the hokkien-aunty way. All of which makes me quite sad actually. Maybe I'm just destined to name my own dog.

But I'm going to close both eyes and just laugh it off for now. There is no room for two moody people in our family now. My wife's hormones are kinda whacked out and I need to be cheerful and give her my support through the initial months. Tomorrow, the baby will be heading for his first check-up, and then we're going to our fengshui master to get an auspicious chinese name for him.

If you're still reading at this point, let me tell that, despite sounding somewhat sad above, I am still loving practically every minute of fatherhood. Everytime the boy opens his eyes, everytime I burp him after his feed, every hiccup, every yawn, every smile he flashes, every wink he gives, every punch, every kick, it's all heavenly. And that baby fragrance he wears, like that leather smell in a new car, simply drives me crazy.

"Who's your Daddy now?!"

After Midnight Project

Every now and then, a catchy rock song latches onto me and the tune stays with me for a while. "Take Me Home" by After Midnight Project is one of those. Enjoy.

The End Is Only The Beginning

We finally laid Granny to rest yesterday at Kwong Meng Sua.

They say it should be a happy occasion when someone leaves at a ripe old age. They could be right. But farewells are always tearful, especially when it's someone you're fond of and the separation is permanent. I cried alot when the monk covered the coffin and we had to send her on her last "journey".

Kenny and I spent three nights watching over her, keeping the incense burning, folding paper gold ingots and making sure everything was alright. We were very tired by the third night, but thinking about how she took care of us when we were young took much of that tiredness away.

As it always happens, families get a little closer when someone dies. I got up to speed with what has been happening in Kenny's life. My mom caught up with her sisters in Malaysia. I met and spoke with cousins whom I didn't know existed.

Anyway, it was a good funeral.

Mothers' Day

A mother's love knows no boundaries. Love, care, devotion, faith, are just some of the many words we use to celebrate a Mother's sacrifice. And when mothers graduate to grandmothers, those qualities do not fade with age.

My grandmother passed away today, at about 4.20pm. On Mothers' Day.

My mom and I went to the hospital almost 12 hours earlier, after she got a call fom my aunt, saying that my granny's condition didn't look good. We rushed to the hospital right away. Just as we stepped out of the house, the wind picked up, the clouds rolled in, and it began to pour.

When we arrived, Aunt Sue and her family were around the bed. Granny was groaning and gasping. It was clear the morphine was no longer working. Aunt Sue has been staying at the hospital for the last few days, keeping her vigil at the bedside. Her brave front had gave and tears were streaming down. At 5am in the morning, I think it's not easy not to be affected. My mom started sobbing softly too.

Somehow, I wasn't crying. I don't always show it, but I love you.

The doctor said that the gasping and semi-conscious state are some of the effects of morphine. It didn't seem like there was much we could do. We could only take turns to comfort her by holding her or whispering personal messages into her ears. Granny did open her eyes every now and then, and struggled a little as if to tell us she's not ready to give up just yet. At one point, I told Aunt Sue that granny might be looking for her familiar face. Aunt Sue had been self-less in giving care to granny during her last days.

It could be the morphine, it could be her body shutting down. Granny finally went went to sleep at about 10am, still gasping through her oxygen mask. The nurses took the opportunity to sponge her, change the bedsheet and her clothings because they were soaked due to her perspiration from the fever. We also took the opportunity to take some quick bites with coffee. Aunt Sue went home with her husband for a quick shower and forty winks. I stayed on with my mom.

Somehow, I wasn't crying. I don't always show it, but I love you.

About 1.30pm, my mom asked me to head home too, as it could be a long night. I came home, washed up and knocked out on the bed after a while. Next thing I knew, my phone rang at 4.41pm and my mom said my granny has passed away about 20 minutes ago. I called my wife next to tell her about it. Then I just laid on the bed for some time.

My mom said granny went quite peacefully. I guess the prayers helped. And as they say, now the healing begins. I am sad she left us so prematurely, that is for sure. But to be debilitated by Leukemia so quickly and to be in such pain, I am glad that she needn't have to suffer anymore.

Po-po, you practically raised me. I don't always agree with what you say or do. Sometimes, you drive me crazy with your cleaniness. We laughed at the same things at times, other times we were laughing at one another. But no matter what, I may not always show it the conventional way, I love you.

Ngoy Heng Jong
1923 - 11 May 2008

Sayonara, Shiro.

Shiro is a West Highland Terrier we got about 4 years ago. I named him Shiro because it means 'white' in Japanese. He's a very obedient dog, I must say. We put him through canine basic training and so he knows most commands. He brought us many smiles, especially so for my mom.

We are expecting a baby very soon, and my grandmother is terminally ill. Since we're all working in the day, keeping a dog at home has turn out to be a "non-option". And so, we finally decided to give him away.

I have always be the disciplinarian, the "bad cop". There are times, with just a frown, I could send him running in fear. I may not be your typical animal-lover but I love my dog nonetheless. So it wasn't easy saying goodbye to him today.

Seasonal Thoughts

April is Spring for many countries. And spring usually symbolises renewal, new beginnings and new opportunities. This is especially true for some of my co-workers.

The grapevine is just bursting with juicy speculation of who's moving to where, who threw in the letter that bosses dread so much, and who taking over which departments. Everyone seems to be going somewhere. Just today, I received news of five departures.

I once congratulated a friend on getting a senior job title after some years with the company. This, I thought, spelled better prospects and bigger roles for him in the organisation. His sardonic reply was, "Aiyah, it's an appointment. Not a promotion." I raised one eyebrow, looking somewhat puzzled. "They just give me a fancy title and more responsibilities. No pay raise."

At the end of the day, 99% of us work for the cheque. Forget passion, forget loyalty. Forget flexi working hours or attractive staff benefits. Forget Blackberries and fancy job titles. Forget it all. Just show us cold hard cash.

Money really does make the world go round, doesn't it? It certainly makes people move around.

When are you springing into action?

Twenty-O-Eight

It's been a while since I last wrote anything. There's obviously quite a lot to write about if I wanted too. But I'll want to remember two major events taking place in 2008.

This year, my wife and I would celebrate the birth of our first born.

It was kinda funny how my wife decided to tell me the news. She casually sent me an MMS photo of the pregnancy test kit result. The stick showed a "plus". I was on reservist duties then, in camp. I was overjoyed, but couldn't tell anyone. You know, there's this old wive's tale about not revealing anything in the first trimester.

This year, my grandmother could die.

She's been complaining of bouts of tiredness. I thought it might have been old folks seeking attention or even a mild case of depression. But, we found out not too long ago that she has acute leukemia. The doctors think she might see another three to six months. I hope she sees her great-grandchild.


For those reasons, I sometimes don't know how to feel. Can I feel happy? If I do, should I feel guilty? I should feel sad. But I accept death is inevitable and I'm glad she does not appear to be suffering.

A good friend reminded me again today - life is unpredictable, we should just enjoy it while we can.