My new phone

After saying goodbye to my cracked phone, here comes my new phone!!



YEAH!!!

I was choosing between 6260 and 7270. This phone that I just bought hasn't got much features. No bluetooth, small memory space, er.. dunno about technology nowadays. It's just that I picked stylish over usefulness and functions.

Did I make the right choice?

Goalstriker

This is a new game situated at the first level of Parkway Parade called Goalstriker. Basically it's taking penalty kick simulator against a computerised keeper.



If you can see from this picture, how you score points determine on the accuracy of your goal and the speed of your ball. You score the maximum points for accuracy if you kick the furthermost top left or top right corner of the goal. The score you get for the speed of the ball is the product of 5 and the speed of the ball in km/h. That means 50km/h will get you 250 points for speed.



Picture of the keeper and the simulation screen.

Total points you get from the game is the score the score you get from your 3 best kicks out of 5. If you score a 1250 for one shot, you get $50 dollars immediately. If your total score is 3750, you get a bigger prize money and a shot to win tickets to England to watch some match or something la. It is 5 dollars per game.



A bad picture of Jiegang taking his kick.

Somehow that day I was in some unbelievable luck. My best kick was at 1215. I hit a 900 for accuracy which was very near the utmost top right corner and my total score was a decent 3110 which happened to be second highest score.



Wow...

Crack

Those who've been hanging out with me know the precarious physical state of my handphone. Today it's a gonner and no longer working because it has become blind. I can't read a damm thing on the screen cos the screen inside cracked. Handphone numbers that I saved on my phone and all my friendsip, goodwill and naughty messages are all gone less the 30 in my SIM card.

Actually if you are reading this, you're probably a good friend and I should have saved your number in my SIM card. But I dunno if I have missed you out by accident, so if you wanna be sure too, SMS me your name and number or you can email me at jlkoay@gmail.com..



God have mercy on poor guys like me...

Retro Is New

Very long ago, I got a phone call from a little girl who asked me whether I wanna continue subscribing to Time magazine, which half the time talks about either American elections or the never ending war or problems at the Gulf. I never really read my Time mag unless I'm really bored or I've exhausted all my reading materials. I also had a year's subscription of National Geographic and Readers' Digest which I all hardly read. So I really spend a lot of money on nothing.

Anyway, back to the girl who called.

She must be some undergrad doing some 6 per hour telemarketing job who got really lucky with me. I was in a rush then and I agreed readily cos she sounded like a cute girl. I flirted a while with her on the phone with the usual, ' oh ic..', 'oh issit?', 'aiyoh, why like that?'. She told me a free jukebox comes along as a free gift.

The jukebox finally came to my house after a really long time and it is seated side by side with my DVD player.



I never had a hi-fi set and now I have a fucking jukebox. I kinda like it cos it's different. Different from other people. When I close all my lights in the living room with just the jukebox's neon lights on playing some Norah Jones or Jamie Cullum or Coldplay, it really gets me in the mood. Mood for relaxation, lying on my bed and slowly drifting into sleep.

I must be the only idiot using this jukebox to play my CDs.

No Flair

Sometimes I really hate myself for being a lesser me. When you've grown old enough to know your own strengths and weaknesses, some more time is needed to accept your own flaws and why you haven't realise them along the way when growing up.

Half of the time when I was growing up, I wasn't fantasizing about being a pop star, a business magnate or a powerful politcian. I was more of fantasizing about how I rise through the ranks as an aspiring young footballer, scoring on my debut, putting in a string of superb performances, scouted by top clubs, go on to break all scoring records and personal awards winning trophies and stuff. Dreams are dreams and reality is cruel.

The fact is I was never born an athlete, less a soccer player. I am psycho-motor in the way I play sports and I have no flair whatsoever in games. I love to win and I love engaging in physical battles but that is about all I have to offer. I look weird when I play sports. My actions are ugly. I have no grace, no guile and show no signs of any athletism.

Back in secondary school then, everybody played soccer in class. It was the thing everyone looked forward to during recess. I was in a notorious group in my class called "OKI gang" which means black mole. We had really great players in the team. I scored a lot of goals then with the help of my team mates. I was playing around some really great players. I was naturally delighted and I told people I was a decent player and score many goals.

It reminded me of how peope can so unashamedly audition for TV singing competitions such as American Idol or Superstar not knowing that they are just totally horrendous. I'm probably not so different myself. Many of us live behind a smokescreen, imagine being someone who we are not and will never be.

I love playing sports, I know how to play most sports which I suck at most. I'm thinking of joining the sports camp coming up in NTU. But I know I will never play the game the way I really want myself to. I am hindered by my own limitations. Therefore, I decide to make peace with my own weaknesses, accept them and embrace my other strengths.

New Hair

Which brings me to my story with my life-long affair with the person who does my hair. She's been doing my hair since I was primary 3. We took a break when I was in NS.

No, she's not my mum. Yes, my mum took these pics. My mum is as bo liao as me.

I visited her at Elias Mall, Pasir Ris. I told her:

' Auntie, think i wanna highlight my hair, you decide what I should get la. '
And there it is. Any comments?

ORD

Yay! I have survived NS.

I have gained 8 kg since enlisting in April 2003.

I have more pimples on my face since I shaved my head in April 2003.

I have drank more alcohol than I ever did in my whole life since April 2003.

I have probably made more enemies than friends since that fateful day of April 2003.

I have been to more countries and done more travelling than I ever did than the last 10 years since April 2003.

This is 16 June 2005.

And this is the day when I say 'Fuck off SAF'. ( Yeah, and thanks for the memories )

Models with crotches

Models always look like these right? The standard swim wear with the plastic abs and bullet-proof chests. I didn't know when it started but male models with swimwear has evolved. The bulge in the swimwear has become glaringly obvious which was kinda amusing.







I am not gay. Just thought it was funny.

Yar, I know I'm not funny.

Renounce the World

What is it like to renounce the world?

I've been at home this few days watching DVDS, TV, surfing the net, jogging to Pasir Ris, walking to Tampines, checking the dictionary, reading books, sleeping and eating little or nothing before dinner. I'm alone with me, myself and my little space doing all these things. Living in my own world and sleeping like there's no tomorrow. I've lost contact with the outside world for a little while or that is what I'll like to think.

But as you all know, that's not renouncing the world. I admit I'm just plain lazy.

Maybe when I was a teenager, I was too into puglistic novels when heroes renounce the world and live happily after with their loved ones or practise more martial arts in caves or mountains of funny names, never to see the light again. They realise the world is a fog of depravity, incessant evil and only an ascetic life can give them spiritual happiness.

Yar lor, to renounce the world sounds cool. To let go and give up all your possessions, thoughts, feelings and attachments.

After a happy outing with your friends, laughs and whatever, you go home feeling the abrupt end of joy and loneliness creeps in slowly. Is that true happiness? These sporadic lapses of different emotions?

I borrowed this book Underground by Haruki Murakami. It was a gift to a good friend in NDU after he borrowed Norweigian Wood from me during the Taiwan trip and commented that the former may be a good read too. It was about the Tokyo subway gas attack in 1996 with Aum Shinrikyo and its leader, Shoko Asahara the perpetrators. Mostly it was about the recollections and accounts of victims of the attack, but I was more interested in how people of an affluent society could fall for the charm of this new religion or cult if that is the appropriate word.

Aum advocates most of its members to be renunciates. Of these renunciates include people of excellent family background and highly respected professionals such as surgeons and scientists who obey and listen to Asahara willingly. They have given up on the world. The materialistic lure of the outside world cannot be compared to meditation, eating white rice and vegetables, hard labour and sleep in their renunciate lives.

Coming back to our own lives. Now and then, I do feel sceptical of the world. Sometimes I do feel like hiding somewhere when I can't face up to reality. And sometimes I do feel the world's a little sick. Here and there, somewhere. We all have our mental menopauses and we do have our doubts about our life and life in general now and then. Many of the Aum renunciates are young people who are emotionally weak and hated life just like we do sometimes. But they chose to give up fighting and renounce the world, thinking that everything will be alright. In the process, not only have they hurt the people around them, they seem to be running away from the problem they don't know how to face.

The world and life is a challenge itself to us all irregardless of which era, which background you come from. The struggles we face everyday is a lesson itself. How we fight and overcome these problems probably is the true meaning of our secular lives. Renouncing is the world is probably the second worst soultion behind suicide.

Well of course you can renounce the world. Monks do. Or if you have reached old age and you're Donald Trump, you could buy an island, reside with your soul mate and live happily ever after like all honorable puglistic heroes.

Meanwhile, an irrelevant picture.

Never-ending Story

Are dreams fiction?

I think they are. I had this dream. I was in a holiday. There was this beach. I was near the water. I was with my girlfriend. My best friend was not too far away. Like most dreams, you never know how you get there. It seemed like a perfect destination spot until we saw this plane took a few somersauts in the sky and crashed into the hotels. It was a huge crash. There were many people beside us, all screaming and terrified. No one knew what to do. From my view, the plane was dangerously close. It got my heart pacing. I felt helpless when the debris started to fly into our direction. There was no other way to turn to. The sea was behind us. We just stood there. We try to cover our eyes from the debris, sand, wind that is coming our direction. We survived. We were unscathed. But we were afraid, clueless and stunned. It was a Japanese passenger carrier.

So what kind of hint was this dream trying to tell me?

Have you been into books, drama serials that you are totally immersed into and difficult to come out of? Halfway through the story, you know you are hooked and you start pondering what is life after that story. Ambivalent. You desperately want to know the ending but you don't want the story to end. Books or serials, it's the same. Images of the story remain vivid. It was a brilliant story. But all stories have to end. Is there a never-ending story?

You can only pass on the story. Good book? Tell some people. Lend them the book. Wait for their response. Hope they are as addicted as you. Talk about the story. Discuss it. That's how the story goes on. That is how the story lives on.

Fiction is another person's story. How about our own story?

What happens when our own story comes to an end? Our lives? Not in a mortality sense but when you've been through everything that life has to offer. Old age that is. Pass on your own story. Tell your grandchildren. Have grandchildren. Have children first. Watch them grow. Watch their respective stories unfold. It's not your story. It's fiction? No, it's your story. Maybe it's part of the story.

Orchard Boulevard

Orchard Road is kinda messy, bland and uninteresting.

I usually go about OR doing people watching. Pretty girls and interesting people. Seems like there is still quite a number. I also try to spot people who are checking me out or people who are feigning ignorance.
Hundreds of people with so many pairs of eyes on the streets. Everybody is checking everybody out. Looking and looking. You stop at the traffic junction. Red light. Act cool a bit. Look around somemore. Anticipate the green light and be the first one to cross the road. Continue walking. Turn back and look occasionally. Not cool. Poser. Xia Lan.

Then that song from 'Closer' comes in.

Can't take my eyes off you. can't take my eyes off you.

Your head turns everytime you see a mirror. Checking yourself out. I'm the man. You walk past the same mirror from another direction. Same deal. I look dashing.

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I always suffer the misfortune of meeting people who wanna sell me things. Let me make this clear. I will listen attentively to what you have to say. I will nod. My facial expressions tell you that I'm considering. Thoughts processing. You press on. Going for the kill. Then finally you pop the question. Show me the money.

In any case, I will throw away my money for only 3 reasons.

1)I just feell like giving away my money.

2)You are a damm attractive girl and you give me eye contact.

3)You are not so good-looking but you make the effort to dress less.

I had a 13-year old girl who looks like my cousin asking me to donate. I obliged because she looked like my cousin. I thought she really was so I asked her for her age followed by her name. She answered but walked away soon after. She didn't get it. Well.

A poor guy came soon after her and requested for a 10 dollar donation that sounded genuine. He was a really nice guy. But I soon rejected him. ' Hey you know I always do this but I just donated and I've always donated. If you had approached me earlier, the money would have gone to these poor people you are helping' He was cool.

'Man, guess i just came at the wrong time'