writer's Block lar!

I'm someone who doesn't plan out my writing when it comes to my blog posts, or as I prefer to call them, my articles. I don't put points down, I don't structure my paragraphs, I don't emphasize on the strength of my vocabulary, and whilst I do put emphasis on grammar, I'm not a grammar Nazi and I break all kinds of rules just to get my voice across. In other words, I'm like a freestyle writer.

Okay, that's not exactly right either, because freestyle has a structure and a method and a technique to it, which I technically don't adopt.

But I don't have a more suitable word for how I write.

Here's the process: I tend to know what it is I want to write about. Meaning that I've got the theme. If it's a discussive article, like plastic bags and loft beds and work stuff etc etc, then that's the theme. But most of the time I have a picture to go on with, and which that becomes the guiding point- since one reason for all this blogging is really to yammer about my life, where I go, what I eat, what I see, blah blah blah. At other times I have a single line, which then becomes the guiding point. So what happens is that when I have one or the other, I simply log on, get onto this page, put my hands on the keyboard and just let the words flow. 

Literally.

See, I tend to write the way I speak. In other words, how I write it out is more or less the same way it would sound if I were speaking to you. I don't know whether it is a standard rule for writing to be in a singular, consistent voice- I suppose so- but I haven't taken any course in creative writing so I don't really know, and even if I did, it would feel kind of stifled, since I don't seem to be able to stick to a particular tone, or a particular voice when it comes to the written expression... and which also means that one article might have one voice and another article might have another.

It's a tad confusing at times, I admit, and I've looked at articles stretching from the most recent to those of two years ago and I wonder to myself, did I really write that? And this is after having painstakingly adjusted the tones of my earlier articles! It is worth a special mention, this point. When I first started this blog, I intended to make it sound more day-to-day, more casual, more expressive, have shorter sentences and more local slang and the like, and so I experimented with straight-out thought process with no attempt at sentence structure. It worked for a couple of months. After that there was no way I could read my own writing without gagging, so I decided I'd stick to what I did best. Long winded sentences written out in prose, with casual words that did not require a dictionary and which (I hoped) would still effectively communicate my thoughts to the reader. 

To me, writing is very much about the flow, and I suppose I place much more focus on it than anything else, and if it goes as fluidly as it does most of the time- the words and the flow- that's okay. 

But it doesn't happen all the time, and when it doesn't happen, I'm f**king stuck. 

That's how it has been for the past two weeks. You know the article on the sexy eggs and toast? I took three tries before finally settling on this one. And the article about pasta at Marche? I rewrote the d*** thing like six times before finally getting it right. The article about chicken rice at Boon Tong Kee took four tries. Each time I thought I had the voice and tone right down pat, but after a hiatus, I would reopen the article and then it wouldn't seem right and so I would rewrite again. 

Still, nothing beats the time I took to write the one on the Rochor silence. I wanted to write so much stuff about it but nothing rolled the way I wanted them to roll, and so finally, after a whole friggin week and at least ten tries, I gave up. Closed my eyes, took a deep breath, placed my fingers on the keyboard and then wrote it as I thought there and then- no key words at all- which is what you'll read if you read it now. 

It feels dumb, frankly, when I'm nearing my 200th article, but that's how it is, and I don't wish to smoke about how fantastic a writer I am. I know I'm not. That's why I don't call myself a writer. But writing, and typing is something that comes naturally to me and so I'll stay with the hobby blogging. It doesn't hurt to be brutally honest that way too. If my tone sounds off, it sounds off. If it sounds abrupt, then it sounds abrupt. If the grammar's shot to hell, so be it. Or if one article has one voice and the other sounds completely different, well, welcome to knowing me just a lil bit better. Cos' I'm like that one. :D   

pyeongchang 2018

The country I'm in doesn't have much of a winter sport category. Being right on the equator means that the focus, and the money, is channelled towards more regular sports- sports that do not require the presence of freezing conditions, ice, or snow. And so because we didn't have a contingent worthy enough of national pride, it also meant that it was not broadcast live on national TV, and anyone interested in Pyeongchang 2018 would have to make do with a sports summary only at the end of the day. 

 

Still I suppose I should be thankful that we had something. 

 

They could have b***dy ignored broadcasting it entirely altogether. 

 

But with the nightly summary, I managed to catch a glimpse of what the Winter Olympics was like,. I didn't get to watch the ice skating part, unfortunate that, but I got to watch a bit of skiing and I got to know that Bobsledding is an Olympic sport, and that there's such a game known as Curling.  

 

The Curling game was quite fun to watch. When I turned on the TV, the German, Swedish, Korean and Japanese female teams were battling it out and so it was rather fascinating to see a bunch of ladies yelling at each other whilst doing something that made them look like they were frantically scrubbing the ice. with brooms. 

And I don't think the Scandinavians ever got interviewed as much as in this Olympics compared to the regular one. I sat through the interviews= because athletes and athletic fashion interests me- and there was always someone from either Norway, Sweden, Germany, The Netherlands, USA, Canada, Russia or Japan. Different teams from the Japanese contingent were interviewed twice. Same for the Norwegians. I saw one interview with the South Korean team and there was one interview with the Russian team.

I've missed out on many of the events, really very unfortunate that. -_- I didn't even manage to catch the closing ceremony which was held yesterday. Pyeongchang 2018 has ended, but I think this Winter Olympics will be remembered for some time. After all, it has been, in one way or another, a highly anticipated one, perhaps more for its political and diplomatic significance than the actual fact of sport itself, but hey, that's what the Olympics is for. Is it not? :) 

chicken at Boon Tong Kee

Let me first say that usually (usually!) I don't have a particular favorite when it comes to iconic local foods, cos' to me they are all heritage, and they are all integral to what makes the Singaporean cuisine, but when it comes to white steamed chicken Hainanese style, I have to say that I prefer the chicken at Boon Tong Kee over Tien Tien, Loy Kee and Wee Nam Kee. 

 

Exactly why, I don't know. Maybe it is a palate thing. Everyone has different tastes, and whilst some like their chicken more flavorful, others like theirs a little bit more oily. 

I like mine the way they serve it here.

 

Wholesome, honest, no frills steamed chicken basked in a bit of sauce that leaves just that hint of taste on your tongue, and which comes with rice that is presented to you in the shape of a pyramid.

I've been curious about the shape for a while. I mean, it must mean something, right? But because I'm hungry every time I'm there for lunch, I clumsily crash the pyramid and forget to ask the wait staff why. I'll remember next time. :)

There's actually another reason why I favor having a meal at Boon Tong Kee over the others.
  
Their crispy tofu.

 

I don't really see this dish sold anywhere else but here at River Valley. I don't even know whether they're available at the other outlets. I hope they are. Because just like the chicken, there's a simplicity and wholesomeness to these lightly fried, bite sized pieces of tofu served with wasabi mayonnaise that keeps me ordering it time and time again.
 



of Christmas and New Year

It is no secret that I love December inside and out, and so, short of writing a whole paragraph on how the December of 2017 was like for me, I'm just going to leave these pictures here for the sake of memory, lots of lovely warmth and reflective, delightful smiles. :) 
 

*Christmas*!

 

Glittery, delicious gold

 

 

Mushrooms, eggs and beef

Scrambled eggs

All for the Picture

 

Fried chicken and cuttlefish balls

 

Cherries

Beef! Beef!

New Year Japchae

Korean BBQ

 



my Fish Soup

 

 

This is the Barramundi Fish soup, one of four selections that was on the seasonal offerings menu of Soup Spoon during the months of November and December.

I knew I wanted to have one of their seasonal offerings. These specially concocted soups make a great alternative to the usual pumpkin, mushroom and minestrone, and they do pretty creative ones here. Sometimes there are Japanese inspired soups with lots of miso. Sometimes there are South American inspired ones which have quinoa everywhere. One time there were these milk-based soups inspired by New Zealand and if I recall rightly, at another time there was samgyetang and a variation of army stew as well. 

The only question this winter season was which seasonal offering to take. Took me a while but eventually the choices boiled down to either the French Onion or the Barramundi Fish.

I chose the latter. :)

Because it was a cold, rainy day out and I thought I might desire a soup with a lovely base of veggies, a bit of other seafood, a smattering of crunchy bacon bits, and good, solid chunks of melty soft fish floating about inside.

pretty foods: Toast and Eggs

 

If at first glance you think the eggs are looking way too sexy for an innocuous morning breakfast, let me tell you that I did not plan the shot and I had absolutely no idea that they would turn out looking this way.
 
Just goes to show that sensuality can be found anywhere, and anytime, even on a bright, sunny morning at a coffee shop somewhere in the middle of the Bedok housing estate heartland. :)
 
Our morality mentors will have a fit, I'm sure, and so will our tourist board people, but hey, let the Singaporean ownself define what a Singaporean breakfast is like, and don't bother so much lar. After all, if the eggs want to come out looking like that, what can I do? Retake ar? For how long? Then my Co Diner how? Sit there and wait and wait and wait is it? And don't come and tell me rubbish like, haiya, take picture for what, just eat lar, eggs and toast only what.
 
True, it is eggs and toast only, and maybe it is not as fanciful as what a typical American, English, Meditterranean or Continental breakfast might be, but it is our own d*** breakfast, and if we are not going to take pictures of our (sexy) eggs and (local bank logo) toast at a coffee shop somewhere in the middle of the HDB housing estate and post it on social media, then pray tell, who else is going to do it? :) :)

the Loft bed

It takes a trip to IKEA for me to come out of the closet and make a Statement (more to myself than to anyone else) that yes, I am an indie, hippie sort, and that is how I will stay, thank you very much. :)

Because whilst a good number of people would want to have gloriously large offices,  walnut desks, comfortable leather chairs, deep furnishings and glamorous fittings after having successfully climbed the corporate ladder, all I want is this.

A loft bed with my own cosy workspace right beneath. From IKEA. Very Scandinavian. Very clean lines. Very cosy. Very cocooning. It is a set up where I can put my water pot on top of the shelf with its coffee sticks and cups by the side. It is a set up that can have files, papers, stationery, notebooks, more files, more papers, cork boards, and all paraphernalia of the office slotted within arm's length.

Is there space for a rug? Yes.

Is there space for personal books? Yes

Is there space for reference books? Yes, yes, yes.

There is space for a couple of clothes and jackets and necessary shoes. Heck, there is even space for a couple of travel sized toiletries. And as long as everyone watches their head when they stand up, there is even space for those kind of meetings where everyone is allowed to sprawl on the floor, scribble and then stash papers around.

Meetings have to be held over a table, said no one ever. 

But why I say I'd need to climb the corporate ladder for this is simply because there is hardly a corporation who would permit such a furnishing in an office setting.

Unless I'm in an industry where anything goes, or if I'm high enough in the hierarchy where I can at least have the space to argue my point away with accountability partners, shareholders and the like.

It's a very peculiar thing.

Tell someone that you want to put a very luxurious piece of furniture- an armchair or something- in your office and they'll nod away with understanding. Like, sure, no problem, it fits into the status and the decor, by all means, go and get it, sure, you deserve it.

But tell someone that you want to put a neat, millennial-looking, creative piece of furniture like this to replace the desk in your office and they'll all hem and haw whilst looking at you like you've lost your mind.

And if you insist, they'll go like, but it's not proper. It's not appropriate that you have a bed in your office when you're supposed to be there to work. It's not appropriate that there should be a bed in the office when the place is meant for you to slog your brains out. 

With all due respect to corporate culture and company image and everything, I find that standard a strange one to adhere to. 

Especially if it has no bearing on the company shares or company image whatsoever.

Let me say first that I have full respect for corporate culture and a fuller respect for company branding and image. Without these two, there's no structure. Without these two, everything that a company stands for goes to bust, because image, culture, style and representation are critical to the perception of the company.

But I happen to work in the creative industry.  

It is an industry where generally anything goes as long as problems are solved and s*** gets done. It is an industry that permits bombastic ideas aka desperate solutions because there are serious timelines to be met, there are photo-realistic renders to be done, and there are audiences hungering to be entertained.
 
But it is also an industry where structure exists for the sake of speed, and occasionally, harmony. And despite being permitted the anything-goes part, much is heavily organized, regimented and controlled. If you thought that this was an industry where you could freely express yourself and thereby go to extremes, you'd soon find out that creativity is permitted only because you gotta do better and faster than your d*** competitor.
 
Where does the loft bed come in then?
 
What does the loft bed got to do with all of these?

It means that whilst perspectives and perceptions are a standard to be adhered to, depending on the outcome, they can be challenged, modified, and sometimes, disrupted.

I'm not talking about the #metoo campaign. That is another tale altogether. I'm talking about the facets that facilitate decision making and quality of performance. There is nothing wrong with flamboyance. There is nothing wrong with a bit of rebelliousness just so long as the numbers don't fall, so long as no one, male or female, gets stripped of dignity and sense of self, and so long as it can be well justified.

That's how the great guys did it.

They broke barriers.

They challenged the current statuses of the norms.

They put forth ideas and they went ahead and got them out there in the market regardless whether audiences were ready for it or not, and they doggedly did it again and again and again until they got it right. Mistakes were made, oh definitely, even laughable ones, but they got those mistakes monetized anyway.

There's no absolution that work doesn't get done if there's a loft bed in there. There's no certainty that decisions don't get made in a clear, logical, decisive way simply because the mattress is above my head and the coffee pot is on the shelf by my ear.

And neither does it mean that someone with a hippie, indie streak in him or her is too flippant, too casual, too playful and too dreamy to live and work in an industry that refers to the dollars in millions and the customer pool in billions.

Because even if you tried to, the industry won't permit you anyway. :D

Strolling Sights: more Keppel waters

It must be getting rather obvious that this zone, this space, this bridge that links the Singapore mainland to Sentosa and the State of Fun, has to be one of my favorites, and that it is impossible, virtually impossible for me to go there, hang around there, and then go away without at least one picture for the sake of moments, and of memory. :)

 

 

 

the MOS scallop Burger

Scallop hidden inside

Cabbage? Lettuce?

I didn't think I'd capture my scallop burger looking so softly lit, but there you go. Natural light works wonders all the time. :) I was at the outlet over at Paya Lebar Square and my seat was right next to the window and so it being a warm day, there was plenty of natural light filtering in through the glass.

I ate this burger sometime in early December, and now I'm hoping that I'll get to eat it in February, March, May, August, September and October too. Better yet if they make this a permanent fixture on their menu. :) 

If they did, I'd be sure to make this an addition to my present dual repertoire of ebi rice burger and fish filet burger. Orders are habitual, and these two are what I have most of the time when I'm there. Particularly the ebi rice, because, well, prawn filet burgers made with rice patties and sprinkled with tiny strips of seaweed are pretty unusual, and pretty Asian, are they not? The fish filet, well. I make an order of it when I want to have tartar sauce with my fries, mainly because they are really generous with the tartar sauce here and it goes well with their thick cut fries. 

MOS Fries

But to have the scallop burger.. that's another thing altogether.

I don't know where else I can have it. Are scallop burgers the newest offering in the market? I don't know. But to date I haven't yet seen them in any of ths seafood shacks. Oh, they've got lobster, prawn, mussel even, but scallop? Not so much.

Which is why I find this a very, very unique offering. Because not only do the Japanese do a good quality scallop burger- there're two of them inside the patty and they're really tasty- they manage to incorporate the hotate into fast food, and better still, keep at a fast food price.

$4.95.

That's as great a price for hotate I'm going to find anywhere. :D

pasta at Marche

Light Above my Head

Empty Table for Now

Rosti and Sausage with the Cream



Mushroom Soup

I must have missed Marche more than I thought I did, because for some inexplicable reason every picture that I've taken on this windy, rainy evening has got that feel of the vintage to it.

Just look at the lampshade.

There is no reason why a lampshade would be that interesting, decor being decor, but I so happened to look up whilst I was waiting at our table, and for a moment, I thought the gingham looked pretty interesting.

Neither is there a good reason why the table would be fascinating, but I had nothing to do and so ran my fingers over the wood and for a very quick moment, I got this sense of solidity, assuredness and good, farmhouse comfort right from the wood.

But the food is really vintage to me.

A warm, pleasant, sturdy, comforting, resassuring sort of vintage that reminds me of earlier meals eaten during the earlier days of Marche Singapore when they were still at Heeren.

The food hasn't changed. The rosti and sausage and sour cream and mustard are still as filling as they used to be. The mushroom soup is as rounded and comforting as it always has been. And the pasta, well, I'd actually been craving it for days... :D 

Pasta!!!



the Rochor Silence

Let me ask you something.

Would you believe me if I told you that there are just some stories that refuse to be told?

Hard to believe... considering that rare it is that a story decides to fold onto itself and remain silent. Most of us are familiar with the belief that stories deserve their place on stage, that they deserve to be narrated and performed and shared and oracled, and so we try hard to tell each and every story. We explore angles, we practice our language, we push the boundaries of vocabulary, thematic discussion, grammar, approach and style. We give voice to whatever it is that we can give voice to. We write- or we attempt to.

Yet, after countless deleted drafts and umpteen attempts to write about this one single block of flats at Rochor, I'm starting to think otherwise. I'm starting to open myself up to the possibility that in this case, it is not the words that speak the story. 

It is the Silence. 

Specifically, Her Silence.

Does it sound strange? Mystical, even? Frankly, yes, I think so. But I don't have any other explanation as to why, after trying to write about her darkened corridors, her forever-open windows, her shuttered staircase landings, her empty rooms and her void of residents, I'm still nowhere near the end of the article. It is not as if I'm discussing serious s*** like transport infrastructure or city development or displacement either!

Nope. None of that.

I'm just trying to talk about a block of flats.

A block of flats that belonged to an estate and which had lots of people wandering in and out and so there was lots of movement within her walls, and which she doesn't have anymore.

A block of flats that once had an NTUC facing the main courtyard and a corner coffee shop that overlooked the bus terminal across the road, and whose shutters have been down for a long time now.

That's all.

Simple, present, nostalgic and reminiscent.

That's all I was trying to say.

But none of it came out the way I wanted it to. None of it sounded as smooth or even right as per the way I had imagined it to, and since some things cannot be compelled, I guess, if this story decides that her Silence speaks louder than many, many words, so be it. :) She'll tell her own story somehow anyway.

pretty foods: Cereal Egg Tofu

This economical rice stall serves up what I call as 'seldom-prepared' dishes from time to time. I think they're doing market testing, you know, like test whether customers like this new dish based on the frequency of orders, or how fast the dish moves. :)

 

I don't mind. Adds some spice to the usual lunchtime repertoire. 

 

They did it with the salted egg fried chicken at one time. Around the period where the craze started- salted egg crossiants, salted egg fish skin and all- they started offering this dish on the counter one or two days a week. Initially the price was more expensive. But I guess everyone likes salted egg at economical rice prices, because they're offering it almost every day now and it's not so expensive anymore.

 

I hope they make this Cereal Egg Tofu dish a permanent thing too.

 

Like dessert sia

It's nice lar. You know the Cereal Prawns at the zi char stall? Ah, same thing lar, but egg tofu instead of prawn. The cereal doesn't alter the taste of the tofu but it gives the tofu that little bit of extra crunch plus there's the sweetness that comes with the cereal.  

 

I quite like it. :)

 

Only thing is, next time I won't order sweet sour pork and this cereal tofu together anymore. Savory and sweet flavors mixed with (less) white rice suits me better. :D



i Strum; i Pluck

 

When I received her as a Christmas present from The Parent just last month, I did not think that I would need her this desperately this soon.

 

I did not know that there would be a season where my brain would feel like it was going to explode, or that I would be so distracted in more ways than one, or that I was going to need the music singing from her nylon strings to help me get through a day.

 

I did not know that there would be a time where my emotions would go so out of whack that I would need a bit of self-expressed music to rein them all in just so I wouldn't go about my day in tears.

 

But that's how it has been for the last couple of days.

 

I wonder if The Parent knew.

 

I don't know. Parents somehow seem to detect things about you that you yourself don't. They're like a mirror sometimes and they're so accurate that it actually gets scary.

 

It was between the ukulele or the guitar. I chose the guitar. Specifically, a 3/4 one. I didn't want the full sized one, I told The Parent. What for, I said, we already have a full size one mah. And some more the smaller one is easier to bring around.

 

The Parent agreed.

 

 

I'm glad I made the choice of the guitar. Partially because I don't have to learn new chords (I'm lazy and I mix things up) and learn how to sing well. partially because I'm the melancholic, emo kind that likes to strum and pluck and sing along to whatever tune that comes into my head, and based on what I was seeing on Youtube, the ukulele didn't allow me to do that.

 

The most melancholic performance was Seasons in the Sun that was being performed by a pretty good player. One song! Just one song! And there's also the fact that somehow the chords seem to have a completely different voice on their own that harmonize together with the song but don't harmonize the song. And until I got used to it, I'd have to rely on my singing voice without my strumming chords to back me up.

 

I didn't want that.

 

Honestly I'm really glad I chose the guitar. She's been a solace to me, a solace much, much more than I'd anticipated. She's not expensive, this guitar, and she's one of the lesser brands, but I don't give a s***.

 

I'm sure The Parent would agree.  

errands with Daffy

I didn't feel like doing a long ride this weekend.

 

No particular reason. No particular physical reason. I just didn't want to. Not with my brain totally spaced out and getting distracted with thoughts and troubling emotions. There's focus, and there's risk. I wasn't going to risk my distracted brain for the sake of a long ride.

 

No way.

 

So I decided to make it an errand ride instead.

 

Over to the nearest shopping mall for reams of paper. This mall is one of those locations where it is too far to walk yet too near for a bus, so the best mode of transport..? Bike. :)

 

I took the route along Carpmael Road, then Ceylon Road then East Coast Road. Whoever said that the East area was relaxed and laid back wasn't talking about East Coast Road on a Saturday afternoon. Far from being laid back, I found myself dodging cars- big ones- sliding my way along the double yellow line then hopping off and crossing the pedestrian crossing on foot. Rules, yo...

 

That must be one of the busiest crossings ever on the East Coast side. Not only are there cars turning out from Joo Chiat Road, there are cars turning in from Marine Parade Road, and on this side of East Coast Road- the side leading to Still Road- nearly everyone is there braking really slowly because they're all searching for a parking spot before going for lunch.

 

Which means there's a tailback somewhere...

 

The laid back vibe probably starts only after Still Road, or after Telok Kurau. You know, the Siglap, Frankel Avenue, Simpang Bedok area.. :)

 

I went for another errand ride after. For dinner this time, towards Geylang Lorong 11 where I wanted Bak Kut Teh, and which is probably the only bak kut teh place that I will happily go to eat at.

 

And of course, I could have taken the simpler route that guides me along Haig Road, then a left, then right onto Geylang. But the Co Rider decided to be a tad more unusual and go onto Dunman Road, Old Airport Road, into Jalan Satu, which is very scenic and quiet, by the way, then out onto Guillemard Road, then into some Lorong (24?) and then onto Geylang and then across it to Lorong 11.

 

I like my route straightforward and simple. The Co Rider thinks otherwise sometimes.

 

Oh well.

 

At least we went back on a much more simpler route. Down Geylang, onto Sims Way, then Old Airport Road, then back onto Dunman Road. Pity I didn't get to stop at the quiet Dakota Estate though... -_-