My Prince

The room, once blamed to resemble a ward for mentally ill people, turned out to be a blessed one. Silently, it offered breathtaking view from its gigantic window. A real treat for an almost mentally ill person!

a hut in the rain

the wet window

sunset

a pair of eagles

this is a crow

spring time

this is taken not in Tokyo

row of metal cranes

this has no name

white collection

red collection

blue collection

Prince George's Park Residence

Block 21, #05-24. Room i
Which one is room i?

I didn't stay there. I stayed at the block behind this block.

I've never had any chance to take the picture of my block coz from outside I didn't know which building my room was located. They all looked the same.

The Reflection

I hesitated to join the retreat. I wanted to go home. I missed my family. I could not even sit still for ten minutes. How could I expect myself to sit for one full hour? Nevertheless, that day I found myself dragging my luggage into the tranquil vicinity of Mangala Vihara for seven days of meditation retreat.

The first two days were hard for my body was not yet adjusted to the meditation routine. Pain and itch were everywhere. Sleepiness was hard to catch. The mind was jumping wildly. Until at a point in time I opened my eyes while everyone else was calmly meditating. Hugging both legs, I asked myself what was wrong with me. But of course there was nothing wrong with me. Nature was teaching me about the truth; about dukkha—suffering.

In the retreat, we were discouraged to read and to talk. I also buried my hand phone deep inside my luggage to minimize distraction. There was no input to the information bank in my mind, so slowly it withered off. After that I felt easier to concentrate with whatever I had at that moment. During sitting meditation, I only had the breadth so I focused on it. I treasured the bliss of not knowing.

Then gradually the pain was gone. The worries had disappeared. Life was no more a burden. Just like a child, everything in this life felt so wonderful. When I could be comfortable with myself, I felt the peace within me.

Note to the reflection:
The meditation retreat was conducted during the three months university vacation period where the writer could choose to go back to her home country. However, she decided to join it instead. It was a perfect holiday for her. It is also an ideal life that everybody longs for. The good news is that it is achievable.

11:59

The show really struck me. It was too well made that I could feel my heart pumping uncontrollably. They heard the sound of aeroplanes. They heard the sound of explosions. The war was coming!

Often, when I was sitting at my desk, I could see one or two aeroplanes passing, sometimes even helicopters. The sound was terrible enough. When they were to close to the building, I could even feel the glass rattling. Lucky it only last for a few seconds without any aftermath effects. It left me wondering, how much the price of peace really is.

The sky is indeed more beautiful than the lecture notes on my desk. It is like a 4-dimension television where I can feel a sense of space and time. I learn a lot from it than from the lecture notes, and more importantly, with a willing heart.

Eagles are my teachers. They come out of their nests on windy days. They float ellegantly, so calm that it is almost effortless to fly. It is as if they want to tell me that it is the way to live a life. If I was lucky on that day, a big eagle would fly pass my window, so fast, so unpredictable. When would the day come that it would stop by my window and offer me a ride on its muscular back? I want to see the harbour from a bird view! The perspective, if the day really comes, reminds me of remote sensing in my Geography lesson years back.. and a teacher with a very cool name. Her name was Rita Sinaga (translation: Rita the Dragon).

Now I know that Desperado loves to gamble and he doesn't wear shoes.

From My Perspective: The Year Of The Golden Pig

Event : Chinese New Year
Date : Sat - Sun, 17 - 18 February 2007
Site : Singapore

Niu Che Shui is Singapore's Chinatown, a crowded place on Chinese New Year's eve, but worth going to watch how the locals celebrate CNY.

A Chinese painter demonstrated his skill.

A lot of people bought this plant.

Candies, $5.00 for 1 bag.

A boy tending a New Year's decoration stall.

Kwaci, a must in Chinese New Year.

Gong Xi Fa Cai.

Windy, Vincent, Mark, and Anton.

A lot of Westerners visited Chinatown that night.

Vincent in action.

Windy in action.

Huge screen behind the stage.

The iron poles supported the spot lights.

Anton and Vincent.

What did they sell?

Mark in action.

Colourful decorations.

Henna.

Anton in action.

The street.

Indian temple at Chinatown.

Colourful candies.

Turkish ice cream.

At CityLink, on the way to Singapore River for a fireworks show.

Isabella in action.

A beautiful night in Singapore.







A subtle beauty of Merlion.

A closer look on Merlion.

Mark.

Elvina.

After the fireworks show at Fullerton Hotel.

Fullerton Hotel.

The next day : Nicholas eating kwaci.

White Rose

It's been years since the last time I like her. We were in high school. We were classmates. I didn't know if she liked me too, but I didn't have the slightest courage to tell her what I was feeling. She then went overseas to pursue her study, while I started my working life as a pizza delivery boy for the fact that I didn't do well enough to get into the university.

We frequently write emails to each other. Every week, I write to her once, without fail. She is kinda busy. I understand that. But she does reply my emails. Every year, without fail, she sends me a message on my birthday. Maybe she likes me, or perhaps she just treats me as a friend. But I still likes her. She hasn't come back since the day she left. I guess she's enjoying her new life there. I hope she won't forget me. I still like her very much, but how come I didn't have the courage to tell her about this.

Finally she wrote to me that she's coming back next month. I'm very excited, yet very nervous to meet her. I'm going to surprise her at the airport, I tell myself.

On the day itself, I dress nicely, ride my motorbike to a florist, and buy a rose. I choose the white one as she told me she likes the pure feeling of white rose. I feel very nervous while waiting for her arrival at the gate. Never before I feel my heart beating so loudly that I think the man beside me can hear its sound.

The plane has landed, and here she is. I see her waiting for her baggage. She doesn't know I'm here. Will she be surprised? Will she be glad to see me?

A tall guy is standing beside her, holding her hand tight. They were talking to each other. Then he kissed her.

I know then it's too late.

She walks pass me. She didn't notice me. I didn't call her.

I let my love wither like the petals of the white rose wither in loneliness.

Antares and scatterred recollections

It's really tough to live on the earth. I've made a lot of new friends, yet I don't have enough time to spend with them. In earth, time is running scarce as if people have been mining it since the cave-men time. It's priceless. It's precious.

I've been bogged down with a mountain of things. Tutorials they call them. I call them monsters because they are gobbling me slowly, draining my energy little by little, until in the end there's not even a little energy left to take a breath.

But I have to fight these things I called monsters before I go back to my home sweet home. I name my home Antares, the heart of Scorpio. It's the happiest place in the world, the most peaceful land on earth, where all memories are kept.

A few years back, at one night when the sky was clean, my friend (her name is Pa) and me lie down on a basketball court to stargaze. Nobody was in the court but the two of us. Antares was twinkling high up in the sky. We were blessed with a full Scorpio constellation, perhaps the first and the last one in our lives because the sky is getting more polluted day by day as the result of the increase of human productivity. We spent ten minutes to enjoying the sky of the dawn, entertained by Antares that guided the other stars in the constellation westwards, before a guard caught us and sent us back to our respective rooms.

Now, Pa has left for somewhere far far away. I am alone, enjoying the night sky with my binoculars. Nobody can invent a transporter that can transport me back to Antares in a split second as nobody understands quantum theory. Schroedinger's cat, it can be in the box and not in the box simultaneously. A state can be 1 and 0 at the same time. How can it be? My pass recollections are scatterred. I have to string them together to make a real beautiful one. Start stringing, start working, start polishing the engine.

Mango series 5B

I have zero experience of working. Thanks to Property Police department, they suggest to bring me around to some HDB buildings that they are going to supervise.

"Mango, do you see that blue building there?" asks Dawson.
I nod my head.

Dawson is a Filipino. He came to Singapore ten years ago to get a better life, leaving his parents behind in Manila. He is now in his forties.

He and another man called Ah Sam sit in the front seat, while I enjoy my luxurious space at the back seat. The building, painted in sky blue colour, erects majestically before us, blocking morning sun rays that are showering Singapore intensely in this period of year.

We get off the car, then enter the building. We take the lift to the tenth floor and Dawson's expression turns from sweet to sour. He has noticed something I do not notice.

"You see, Mango. The person who does this will get something from me."

In front of me are clothes hanging on a nylon string tied to a water pipe on one end and to the staircase railing on another end. It looks like they have just finished washing the clothes and have no place to air them. Drops of water drip from the clothes and create pools on the cemented floor.

Dawson knocks on the door. An old woman opens it. She cannot speak English, nor Chinese, nor Malay. Dawson has tried to converse in all the three languages.The woman mumbles some words in dialect, and then bangs the door on our faces. Dawson shrugs. Looking at me, he says, "You see. Sometimes life can be so unexpected."

Mango series 5A

I am lucky to be offered a job after three gruelling weeks of job hunting.

It is a simple job in a town council in the central part of Singapore. The manager is a good-tempered lady. She oftens has meetings or appointments overseas, so up to now, I have only seen her once, during the job interview.

I learn that there are three main departments, namely finance, admin, and property police. I will explain one by one in the next three paragraphs.

FINANCE:
A boring department consisting of good-natured people. They do their work diligently and follow the guidelines religiously. No matter how hardworking these people are, they cannot finish their work because one pile of papers will come after one another like the automated machine in a factory never stops working.

ADMIN:
A complete word for it is administrative. Administrative officers deal with a lot (really a lot) of paperworks. What differentiates them from finance is the contents on the papers. They face words, while their counterparts face numbers. There are three big photocopy machines in the middle of the admin room. However, one is spoiled, and the other one is an old model which produces loud terrible noise when used. So there only left one machine in good working condition.

PROPERTY POLICE:
All the staff in the other two departments are females, but this department consists of male officers. These guys have muscular arms. They are ordered to show stern expressions when on duty. Their task is to check every building and warn people who do not abide by the law on living together harmoniously in a building (most people in Singapore stay in HDB flats, that means they have to tolerate the nuisance coming from next door). That is why the town council employs men because women are easy to bully.

Out of the three departments, the last one has the most fun and enjoyment a working world can offer. Everyday is a brand new day, with brand new experience. They go to new places, meet new faces,and find new offenses. I think that what a working world should be.