So I was sent over to Singapore with some officemates of mine to participate in the CG Overdrive last July 14-16, 2006. We were there July 13 at night and we went home July 17 around lunch.
Did I get to see sights? Nope. We arrived too late and left too early. No windows for sightseeing. The conference was from 10am-7pm at the Expo, which was around a thiry minute MRT ride from most major malls and whatnot. So I didn't get to go around much.
We did see Geylang, shopped at Bugis and Orchard. Went to two branches of Kinokoniya (or whatever the hell that bookstore's name is, I personally call it Kiki-ni-Mia). I managed to buy an artbook and a Heavy Metal magazine I was looking for. Ate good food.
Singapore's cool. Saw some nice cars, like the RX-8 which greeted us right out of the airport.
And fortunately at the Expo a car show opened up around Sunday, so my officemates and I saw this nice Mitsubishi Lancer Evo VII designed by Jackie Chan for Firesports. Or something like that.
Singapore was nice. Saw lots of great cars. Mostly dominated by Honda Jazzes, Hyundai Tucsons, Subaru Imprezas (yes, Imprezas - that place was loaded with Scoobys), and some Mitsubishi Evos. Great place, Singapore is.
Can't say much anymore. It was an enjoyable experience. I'll probably try to write a new blog about my travel soon.
Out.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Monday, July 10, 2006
Ageing
I'm currently listening to Toad the Wet Sprocket's "Something's Always Wrong" as I write this post. And I have to agree with this song. Something IS always wrong with my life.
Teen angst returns.
Whether it be because of the way I think, my neurotic tendencies, or if God's out to get me or whatnot, I still say something's always wrong. It's not that I'm an ungrateful bastard to God's gifts and everything, I just always find something amiss from my perspective.
Take my birthday. I'm turning 26 on the 12th. That's in two freakin' days.
Normally I try to underplay my birthday. I don't announce it to many people, don't ask for gifts, don't try to make a big deal out of it. It's just another day. Except this year I've pretty much been broadcasting it here in the office. Strange, I usually stay quiet about this.
Maybe it's because my grandmother died a few weeks ago (two weeks ago to this day, I think). Maybe I'm still smarting from the, er, sudden way she passed away. I always thought she'd live to her 90s and pass away peacefully in her sleep. Guess I was wrong.
But enough about that. My pain is exactly what it should be, mine and mine alone. Sure blogging this basically broadcasts this to anyone who'd bother reading this blog of mine, but that doesn't mean I am making everyone privy to all my thoughts. Just some that I'd like to get off of my head. Besides, comments on my blog rarely appear (hint, hint, reader).
So I'm turning 26. I always compared ageing to gaining a level in RPG terms. Every year you get older is equivalent to you gaining enough experience to level up. How can it happen in the same time span all the time? Because as you get older the experience you gain are greater in value. Because in RPGs the higher your level the higher the experience needed to level up. So as you get older you take on more challenging, uh, challenges and you learn more from these difficulties. Right? Right.
Anyway I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Proof of this is the fact that lines from different songs from different genres whiz by my head at breakneck speeds. This usually happens when I am troubled and have to think. My brain tries to generate enough noise to drown out what I have to think about, thus enabling me to avoid thinking about it. But now no matter how loud the music is I cannot avoid the problem. My problem.
What is it? I know. But you won't. Not yet, at least.
Out.
Teen angst returns.
Whether it be because of the way I think, my neurotic tendencies, or if God's out to get me or whatnot, I still say something's always wrong. It's not that I'm an ungrateful bastard to God's gifts and everything, I just always find something amiss from my perspective.
Take my birthday. I'm turning 26 on the 12th. That's in two freakin' days.
Normally I try to underplay my birthday. I don't announce it to many people, don't ask for gifts, don't try to make a big deal out of it. It's just another day. Except this year I've pretty much been broadcasting it here in the office. Strange, I usually stay quiet about this.
Maybe it's because my grandmother died a few weeks ago (two weeks ago to this day, I think). Maybe I'm still smarting from the, er, sudden way she passed away. I always thought she'd live to her 90s and pass away peacefully in her sleep. Guess I was wrong.
But enough about that. My pain is exactly what it should be, mine and mine alone. Sure blogging this basically broadcasts this to anyone who'd bother reading this blog of mine, but that doesn't mean I am making everyone privy to all my thoughts. Just some that I'd like to get off of my head. Besides, comments on my blog rarely appear (hint, hint, reader).
So I'm turning 26. I always compared ageing to gaining a level in RPG terms. Every year you get older is equivalent to you gaining enough experience to level up. How can it happen in the same time span all the time? Because as you get older the experience you gain are greater in value. Because in RPGs the higher your level the higher the experience needed to level up. So as you get older you take on more challenging, uh, challenges and you learn more from these difficulties. Right? Right.
Anyway I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Proof of this is the fact that lines from different songs from different genres whiz by my head at breakneck speeds. This usually happens when I am troubled and have to think. My brain tries to generate enough noise to drown out what I have to think about, thus enabling me to avoid thinking about it. But now no matter how loud the music is I cannot avoid the problem. My problem.
What is it? I know. But you won't. Not yet, at least.
Out.
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Thoughts
My maternal grandmother passed away last Monday. June 22, 2006. She was 87 years old. She would have been 88 this August 7th.
Some people do not know this but I was very close to her. Closer than some grandchildren to their grandmother, because a) she lived with us at home and b) I was her ONLY grandchild (she was an only child, she had an only child, who also had an only child).
I still feel bad up to now. The pain hasn't left. It hasn't diminished, it just lingers. Everything normal before isn't now. Even though I still do the same things I do at home when she was around, they will never be the same. Ever.
I'm surprised that I shed so little tears for her. I only cried when she was still in the hospital, her life slowly ebbing away. That was it. Didn't cry when I arrived with my father around 4:30am to find her lifeless body laying on the bed. Didn't cry when I saw her for the last time before she was cremated. Didn't cry at the memorial services held to celebrate the life she had.
Then again, what is there to cry about? She's gone. No matter how many tears are shed, no matter how many memorials are held, she'll never come back. She's gone.
Gone.
I miss her. But I was lucky to spend 25 years of my life with her. Through the good and the bad.
Thank you, Lola. I love you and I miss you.
Out.
Some people do not know this but I was very close to her. Closer than some grandchildren to their grandmother, because a) she lived with us at home and b) I was her ONLY grandchild (she was an only child, she had an only child, who also had an only child).
I still feel bad up to now. The pain hasn't left. It hasn't diminished, it just lingers. Everything normal before isn't now. Even though I still do the same things I do at home when she was around, they will never be the same. Ever.
I'm surprised that I shed so little tears for her. I only cried when she was still in the hospital, her life slowly ebbing away. That was it. Didn't cry when I arrived with my father around 4:30am to find her lifeless body laying on the bed. Didn't cry when I saw her for the last time before she was cremated. Didn't cry at the memorial services held to celebrate the life she had.
Then again, what is there to cry about? She's gone. No matter how many tears are shed, no matter how many memorials are held, she'll never come back. She's gone.
Gone.
I miss her. But I was lucky to spend 25 years of my life with her. Through the good and the bad.
Thank you, Lola. I love you and I miss you.
Out.
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