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Always put 100% into your work.

I saw this somewhere earlier and I thought, “Hey, this really should apply to anyone and everyone who has a hard time of dragging their feet to the office on a Monday morning”.

Considering that one might be overwhelmed by Monday Blues today, it’s apt that you read something that goes like..

Always put in 100% into your work.

Of course the rest of the message goes like this..

Monday: 12%
Saturday: 1%
Sunday: 0%

And that’s why noone works on Saturdays and Sundays right, and if you’re planning to take MC, take it midweek yeah?

Brad Lau vs Private Affair: And the winner is..

I’m pretty sure I don’t have to remind you again of the fiasco surrounding a Food Blogger (oh hey, you qualify as one if you eat something and then blog about it) and a local posh, high class and upmarket restaurant, Private Affair.

Ok, knowing that no one’s going to even be bothered about what I think of it, I’ll dish it out anyway. (See how I said dish as in pun intended?)

My take on Private Affair:
Good for you. You’ve managed to gain plenty of exposure out of it since there’s no such thing as bad publicity eh?

My take on Brad (the food blogger):
An apology over your assumption, where no word was given that your THREE friends would dine for free, is way manlier than dishing out a lengthy post that explains your course of action, because I think you assumed that readers bother to read lengthy explanatory posts eh? (See what I did with dishing and course again?)

My take over the publicized affair:
What an expensive restaurant to eat at — that bill of 4 persons ($435/-) could easily feed a family of four for a week!

$435 could get me plenty of Roti Pratas, Nasi Briyanis, Chicken Chops, Pizza Hut’s Spicy Drumlets and loads more.

$435 could settle my bike’s petrol for 3 months straight.

$435 is certainly too much to pay for, and on this part I agree with the unfortunate food blogger, but that’s as far as I’ll go in sharing my sympathy.

I do believe that it’s a very bad choice whenever you throw assumption into things, and in this fiasco, where both parties threw assumption into it, the outcome became ugly.

The blogosphere rained on them mercilessly, but I suppose a winner did come out from it all, and the winner is..

Private Affair.

Sorry Brad, but Private Affair gained the publicity it desired, while you got labelled excessively instead.

Private Affair 1 – Brad Lau 0.

Now where’s that free food-tasting event that I crave for?

By the way, I’ll bring 10 friends along. The more, the merrier right?

Singapore Cubs fishes the bronze medal convincingly from YOG’s white sea.

Singapore Cubs fishes the bronze medal convincingly from YOG’s white sea.

Remember the first time you went swimming?

You gasped, you frantically plundered the waters and it seems as if you’re just a small thingy in a huge body of water.

Well I guess you can’t say the same for the Singapore Cubs, or perhaps known as Singapore Men Under 15 Football Squad (or SMUFS, which sounds like smurfs eh?) when they overcame the physically intimidating boys of Montenegro.

Like a white sea, the Montenegrins are heads and shoulders above some of the diminutive Cubs, but for what was lacking in size, the Cubs made up for it with heart.

Fresh from a demoralising 2 nil loss to underdogs, Haiti, you’d think that these schoolboys would continue shedding tears all the way till YOG’s closing ceremony, but no, they picked themselves up and performed way above expectations.

Bah, they even played way better than my Saturday/Sunday soccer teams.

Just take a look at them, after they’ve scored the third goal, wasn’t it cheeky of them to mimic this scandinavian team’s ‘fishing trophy‘ goal celebrations?

Singapore Cubs celebrates 3rd goal.

And where’s this beach anyway, cos it looks real sweet and I might want to take a few pictures there too.


So with the Bronze in the bag, is this salvation for Singapore’s former Goal2010?


Though I’m usually skeptic when it comes to the potential of Singapore football, I do have a hunch that our Cubs are going to be doing even better and more — that if they’re groomed professionally and meticulously, that they’ll grow to be giants of Asian football.

And then the skeptic in me sets in and reminds that whatever I propose earlier, it’s unlikely going to happen due to society’s pressure in insisting that a footballing career is not worth it.

Maybe they’ll say go to a University or Poly, then play football and when you’re done, you’ll have the academics to get back onto a corporate ladder — but all this after serving their 2 years NS term of course.

Maybe they just didn’t really know about Fandi Ahmad, Singapore’s finest ever footballer ever to grace our National colours.

Still kudos and a hefty congratulations to all the Singapore Cubs and everyone associated with them.

Although Gold and Silver slipped through, don’t worry, you can still brag about that Bronze medal over early morning roti prata or a late night mcdelivery meal.

And here’s to desiring that you preach humility, exercise diligently and execute greatness in your future endeavours.

Love The Way You Lie. Minus-one version (Music only).

Love The Way You Lie. Minus-one version (Music only).

Love the way you lie (album cover)

If you’re madly in excessive adulation of Eminem’s song ‘Love the way you lie’, which featured battered-by-bad-boy-Chris-Brown-but-uber-affable Rihanna, then you’re not alone.

Because I am too.

If you’re frantically trying to remember every line, syllables and stresses of the song, and finding it extremely hard to grasp and churn out, then you’re not alone.

Because I am too.

If you’re desperately looking for a minus-one (MP3) version of the song, so that you can secretly rap or serenade to it in your secret bedroom, then you’re probably alone.

Because I know that you can find it here.

Yep, just the music to the song.

Absolutely no vocals at all — didn’t I just mention it’s just the music?

Sure, thank me later. ; )

Night view of some of the world’s cities.

Night view of some of the world’s cities.

A good partner of mine at work forwarded me this mail and, being Indian (love the Indians — they have brilliant analytical minds and acute financial sense!), I knew he has a great taste for varieties (just look at the myriads of spices available from India!) and a penchant for entertainment (just look at their population!).

So when he forwarded me this mail, I thought, “Ok, another forwarded mail with lots of graphics. Let’s see what this is all about.”

I was mesmerised.

There were tons of beautiful pictures of the world’s cities/venues at night, and I show here the exact words as I received them.


Brazil at night

Paris at night.

Niagara Falls
Niagara Falls at night

Toronto at night

London at night

Singapore at night

India at night

Sorry, power cut IS THERE!

Love the way you lie.

… I can’t tell you what it really is. I can only tell you what it feels like, and right now it’s a steel knife in my windpipe.

I can’t breathe but I still fight while I can fight, as long as the wrong feels right, it’s like I’m in flight.

High off of love, drunk from my hate, it’s like I’m huffing paint, and I love it.

The more I suffer, I suffocate, and right before I’m about to drown, she resuscitates me, she fucking hates me, and I love it.

On the surface it’s just verse after verse of a love-hate relationship, but beneath the veil it’s really a raw, sinister, possessive, obsession of love.

Do you get fueled up when his cold words ring through your ears?

Don’t your heart weep when her frail voice reeks of blind compassion?

Domestic violence, in any form is extremely condemnable, and it’s a disgusting act but it’s one that sub-conciously gets played out by anyone, and you’re simply full of denial and ignorance if you say you’re never guilty of it.

Admit it, your heart has secretly wished it so before, or you’ve mistimedly witnessed it before, even if it’s so much as a displeasing glare over a discussion.

Violence, is perceptive right?

But seriously if you’ve never really seen domestic violence, then it’s either you’re blind, or you’re probably a piece of aimlessly drifting log.

You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you’re with ’em.

You meet and neither one of you even know what hit ’em.

Got that warm fuzzy feeling. Yeah, them those chills you used to get ’em

Ever fortunate enough to have felt that warm fuzzy feeling, or perhaps unfortunate enough that it turned cold and crushes you, like knives stabbing incessantly?

Like when you work to try and make things right, only to find your efforts thwarted and you’re made to wait, and later finding out that you were never really one of the priorities in life?

Like when you’re so close, yet you’re made to feel so distant, or worse that they’re spending time with someone else?

And then your heart starts with all these questions and your mind races everywhere.

And the moment you meet, it all goes away as if nothing in the world really ever matters anymore.

Then the air is squeezed out of you as your heart desires to get closer and suddenly time skips beating normally and rushes through.

Then it comes for goodbye, and it feels cold once again.

Come inside, pick up your bags from the sidewalk. Don’t you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk?

I told you this is my fault, look me in the eyeball, next time I’m pissed, I’ll aim my fist at the drywall.

Next time, there won’t be no next time, and I apologize even though I know its lies.

I’m tired of the games I just want her back.

Then you wonder if you should stay or leave, because it’s getting harder for you to stay especially after you’ve committed yourself and it’s one way.

Still you decide to stay, but then they decide it’s easier to pack up and see what life brings.

And then you decide that some things can’t remain the way they are and you disintegrate.

So you choose to burn away your memories, bridges, thoughts and everything because when it’s ash, it’s easier to sweep em under the rug.

Still it doesn’t go away that easily, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn.

That’s okay because I like the way it hurts.

Just gonna stand there and hear me cry.

That’s okay because I love the way you lie.

Love the way you lie – Eminem, Ft Rihanna. — & I love this song to bits.

The regret, the anger, the remorse, the satisfaction, the obsession, the hatred, the acquittal, the love, the joy, the sadness, the vindication, the mesmerization, the possession, the vileness, the sorrow, the forgiveness, the fights, the tension, the forcefullness, the blindness, and all the emotional trip that goes along with it..

On Seth’s Blog: The Fear Tax. Hmmm.

Before I begin my prose, or should I cite ‘dull expression’, I admit that I’m a great admirer of Seth Godin and his literary compositions, be it within an ebook or a few lines of a blogpost.

With an analytically brilliant marketing brain, Seth churns out opinions and thoughts which tickles, provokes and inspires the mind, and I truly adore his outlook on marketing and advertising.

I serve similar accolades to his latest post where he postulates, on what happens as a result of security theater at the Orlando airport, that it neither increases security nor promotes peace of mind.

And my tiny brain was tickled, provoked and inspired. Okay, maybe not so much as inspired but here goes…

So, according to The Fear Tax,  it’s a pain in the ass for air travel consumers that they have to go through a cloud of security measures, highlighting the pain and plight of the ones who go through it as well as the ones who take care of it.

Valid arguments indeed, especially when he analogises that situation to the assurance that one gets when one goes out to get an MBA credential, that time and money spent, or taxed, are just inadequately justified for a shot at, in this MBA example, a decent journey into entrepreneurship.

Well my thoughts on that MBA situation are like for like, and I totally agree that paper chase, where it’s only in select industries that it is mandatorily necessary, as percepted by society, while it’s merely another badge of honour on the chest for certain industries, where the fear of not having one (MBA) is perceived as lacking, thus initiaiting the chase.

This fear tax, so Seth says and I quote “We pay the tax when we cover our butt instead of doing the right thing, and we pay the tax when we take away someone’s dignity because we’re afraid”.

Yes, in view of the heightened fear against terrorism, much is being done by most governments to curtail the fear, but just how efficient is this ‘fear tax’ really?

It may not be easily quantifiable nor justified, and where some may see it as over the top, I do think that it’s a decently justifiable tax and that one can never be too safe.

Or maybe it’s just my CYA (cover-your-ass) mentality, being brought up on this tiny sunny island, where almost everything you do involves utmost security or a safety first mentality.

I can’t remember who said it or when, but my argument on it being decently justifiable is best summed up by one simple question, rhetorically targeted at whomever thinks that certain security measures at Airports create delays and missed flights, taxing (and reducing) efficiency.

The question:
Imagine there’s 2 airports, Airport A and and Airport B. At Airport A, you go through basic security of metal detectors and bag screeners. At Airport B, you go through all that, as well as searching of bags, personnel that surveys you and much more, as much as they have to, to ensure that the travel is safe and secure. Now this question being, which Airport would you choose?

Of course there are those who just wants to get their flights over and done with, and the notion that ‘accidents happen’, but then again there are some who values security and safety above else.

Now I’m no expert on all this Airport security and Safety issues, but something about “Think about how much you could get done if you didn’t have to pay a tax to amplify or mollify your fear” provokes the thought of ‘How much is too much?’ and ‘What could happen when security lapses or is being taken lightly?’

Hmmm, can there ever be too much safety measures?

Stop Doing Nothing

(This post was actually written on Wednesday, 11th August, just to get the dates and time into perspective as you’re reading this. What began in the wee hours of the morning, reaches conclusion tonight, as I’m listening to Eminem’s Love The Way You Lie. I’m just saying.)

I should probably be asleep right now but i just can’t help but think of the stuffs that I talked of earlier with a very special friend, of topics, which most people would touch on at least once in their life but then come to forget all about it.

Here’s to hoping that the talks don’t go that way – forgotten.

Right or wrong is subjective, and it all depends on one’s perception and knowledge, but most importantly the motive and needs of whoever you’re talking and discussing with.

Who am I to say which is which and what paths you need to take, and who am I to judge on behalf of your judgements?

Now all I can do is to express opinions, my own judgements, concerns and motives, of which you did fairly asked, what my motives were early on.

Indeed, motive is a very important issue that needs to be tackled and tackled well by any parties that plan to get involve within anything.

Without motive, one is merely a passenger riding along, enjoying the scenery while others pull the bus along.

Without motive, one wakes up in wonderment and tired, and tends to drift away distracted.

Motive is the vitamin that keeps thing going — but wait, there’s a better drug than motive, which kickstarts things, brings up new events and most important of all, challenging you to tackle, and head on if you have to, any daunting obstacles.

I said that there’s a better drug than the vitamin, motive.

Motive is temporary, but this drug is permanent.

This is a drug that defines the good, the bad and the ugly.

It’s the drug that sets how you set out your lifepath.

But no, it’s not sold over the counters nor prescribed by doctors.

This drug is… inspiration.

Inspiration is the drug that defines you as a person and sets the characteristics that makes you up.

I think my friend was inspired in one way or another to dive deeper after barely scratching the surface of the design industry.

She’s conceptually talented, able to think outside the box, tackle on broad ideas, and in short, she’s driven.

That’s what inspiration does, it drives you forward, shifts up your gear and brings you to new places and experiences.

Motivation gets you worked up for the day, and maybe the week, but inspiration gets you worked up for the rest of your life.

Inspiration, it brings about a new meaning to life itself, and creates something out of nothing as you chase something, something intangible, something out of the ordinary, something that’s perceived as useless or wasted by most.

Well that’s just because they aren’t as inspired right?

Inspiration is the drug that wakes you up in the morning, in full anticipation for tomorrow, even though yesterday bore no fruitions. Yet.

Inspiration is the catalyst that makes the negative turn positive, the pessimists into optimists, and keeps you moving when everything else stalls.

Inspiration makes you realise that some things are near impossible, but that it’s never too much being wasted on which you’re going after.

I’m thankful that I’ve been inspired when I was younger but even more fortunate that I continually get inspired with every passing day.

Thankfully too I’m sane enough to know that I’m still nowhere near reaching my goals and my dreams, but I’m inspired enough to also know that that’s no reason to stop whatever it is that I’m doing.

Because I know for sure how I’m not going to achieve whatever it is that I’m trying to achieve.

And that’s to do nothing meaningful.

So.. are you going to do something soon?


It’s been a hell of a week, maybe a month, maybe a few months, and I’m still picking myself apart and asking questions as usual, but none that I’ve regret coming to of course.

For nothing would I trade those experiences ever, but ever since a month ago, I secretly wondered if I should think for what’s best in my self interest, and that is to not play second fiddle, to stop searching for sunken treasure, to just stop hurting myself basically.

Hurt myself? Woah, that’s gotta be something right? Indeed man, indeed.

Getting kicked out of a quarterfinal in a primary school soccer tournament and cried at that? That was pre-puberty disappointment, like a mountain falling on top of you.

Would you have cried if you had pinned extremely high hopes and expected so much and dreamed so much only to falter along the way?

And then there was Gunung Ledang when I was 15, which was basically torture and plenty of mozzie attacks to accompany te aching limbs. That’s peanuts.

NS’ stress tests, such as the canoeing around Singapore, even when I’m sea-sick as hell, and all those mind games? Well that turned out to be a fond memory.

Sure those times I was breaking the limit but this, this now, this relationship, this whatever this is, it’s brought me to depths I’ve never seen before and aches I’ve never felt before.

Questions whose answers are never really about right or wrong and it’s these questions that you chew on slowly, only to find them getting stickier and stickier the longer the gum gets pummeled.

Well I try to base my decisions without being judgemental on any preconditions and I’d like to get things done so that the next move can be made. It’s like a game of Chess, once you’ve made your move, someone else have to make their move or the game stagnates.

But gum, like chess, are minor issues, if ever they were problems.

This stagnation, this stickiness, this thingy, it’s not quite a problem, and not quite a solution either.

I love helping people, the more that they need my help, the more that I go out of my way to render it.

But do you continue with the aid when you’ll get hurt along the way, like how the Internation Aid Mission guys whom were slain recently while relaying eye care duties in Afghan?

Their virtuous deeds just got legendary status, thanks to a few extreme men with extreme ‘incepted’ thoughts, but I’m no politician so I’ll politically say that it was a great sadness to see the medical team’s journey ended this way.

Wait, they knew the risks yet they ploughed on selflessly.

What should I do?

I wish I could just lay out everything, and stand inside a wall of glass, before shattering them all to pieces — but I don’t want the shards to cut anyone, me least of all, even though I do know that sooner or later, pieces of glass will graze you, no matter how hard you try to evade them.

Now, if only I can see where that wall of glass is, maybe my exhaustion blurs my vision.

Sure, work and side projects have at the very least shown me where I need to go to keep on moving, but I can’t help but feel that slight tinge of helplessness.

Maybe I’m lost?