tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3977398573970944792024-03-04T22:07:55.726-08:00Kelley Cheng's Blog: Funk & Junk in architecture, art, design & lifekelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-61164614020218623172012-03-17T06:15:00.002-07:002012-03-17T06:53:30.640-07:00when you watch someone lying there just waiting and hoping to dieIt's been a long time since i had the urge to write about anything personal. i used to do it a lot when i was younger, and it has the same kind of feeling as stripping naked in front of strangers, as most writers who do it will agree. when you are young, it is 50-50 exciting and terrifying but you are young, you are brave. Age makes me more reclusive and cautious. but today, as i watched my sickly 90-year-old grandma lying on the hospital bed, the doctor has decided to take her off all medication and - to put it bluntly -let her die naturally. Surgery is out of the question for her weak body and the doctor says there is no other way. <div><br /></div><div>Grandma has a stroke 5 years ago, which render her paralysed and unable to speak any more. Not every stroke patient is as lucky as that guy in The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, who has someone who would translate his blinkings into a novel. For most stroke patient, your life pretty much ends with a paralysing stroke. We, the grandchildren, are all guilty of not visiting her enough though fortunately, my aunties, whom grandma was living with, visited her daily at the hospice, and a maid accompanies her daily at the hospice so that grandma has personalised care apart from the nurses at the hospice. Days passed, weeks passed, years - passed. It's been 5 years since grandma is trapped in this state where she is still conscious of what is going around her, but completely imprisoned in her post-stroke body. Just a couple of months back, i don't know why some smart-ass decided to remove grandma's glasses and i protested and suggested that seeing is the last faculty left for her, and we should put back her glasses. I was told that she is too sick to see anything any more. i do not think that makes sense, but i don't know where they keep her glasses.</div><div><br /></div><div>finally the day comes, when i think grandma's pain and imprisonment is going to end. all the relatives stood solemnly around her hospital bed in silence as grandma sleeps like a baby. Her arms are swollen and red with marks from injection and drip. An infection has caused her face to swell, but her past rotund body is nothing but skin and bones. She curls up in her bed with a few tubes stuck in different parts of her body. She doesn't know that we are there. My mum whispered to me, wake her, tell her you are here. I scolded my mum - do u know how much pain she has to feel whenever she is awake, with no medication at all? the only relief right now is sleeping. An eternal sleep is the only way out of her pain.</div><div><br /></div><div>as we were all leaving the hospital, mum insisted that she wanted to stay to pray for grandma. As everyone tried to persuade mum to leave and mum stubbornly wanted to stay, my dad asked her - are u going to pray for her to live or to die?</div><div><br /></div><div>it is such a sucky feeling to be there watching someone in so much pain, and actually hoping that death can be her relief. I hope that euthanasia can be legalised by the time i am old and sick. I hope that one day when i am old and sick, someone can help me make the decision to relief me when i am unable to do that myself, someone who can understand when the day comes that, all i want, is to sleep forever.</div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-6233529184298120372011-07-29T22:33:00.000-07:002011-07-29T22:40:20.843-07:00a collection of The Press Room's latest works<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEOoAt_H-pMlqvA-KM3ZYGWmJLr0ajQNJfIyQ49Rh9yKCO9VfaFgU2mFI3GY1npxHWSMsUaYwUmCgtFaljPhYsntq0jIEB8WM0JQdQnNcJ_vRQoodxk7q3AJRkA5hEmr2jZ6BLqiRacYx/s1600/TPR+at+a+glance.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrEOoAt_H-pMlqvA-KM3ZYGWmJLr0ajQNJfIyQ49Rh9yKCO9VfaFgU2mFI3GY1npxHWSMsUaYwUmCgtFaljPhYsntq0jIEB8WM0JQdQnNcJ_vRQoodxk7q3AJRkA5hEmr2jZ6BLqiRacYx/s400/TPR+at+a+glance.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635015119529287090" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It is hard to believed it's already 2 years and 7 months since my studio The Press Room has been set up. The labour of these months have finally borne some fruits and we are starting to a have a pretty interesting portfolio of assorted works, mostly for a lot of cultural institutions and establishments. I love it when you put them all together and they kind of come together as a nice collection - enjoy!</div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-39608440987789913772010-09-10T04:34:00.000-07:002010-09-10T05:07:42.307-07:00Hong Kong = Singapore?am in Hong Kong and picked up the Time Out magazine with the headline on the cover asking - Boom Town: Is Singapore the New Hong Kong?<div><br /></div><div>i think it is very different still. people make a nation. and the people in HK are quite different from Singapore. Ruling the people of a nation makes politics. and politics determined what kind of people we grow up to become. Politics is difficult. But what does a nation that disallows any kind of politics means? Perhaps a lot of suppression and self-censorship. Culturally, artistically, socially - we suppress ourselves in order not to be penalised and to fit in. To ensure that a country has no politics - i'm not even sure if it is good or bad - we have stability but we live with boredom too. Do i have complaints? not really. But am i inspired? Neither. Maybe it just makes us mild. Have we become the people that the government wants us to be to a point we don't even know? and we might just live happily ever after. </div><div><br /></div><div>meantime, i'll enjoy the little messiness here in HK for a bit before i head back to home sweet home.</div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-30659805886960528402010-08-21T21:52:00.000-07:002010-08-21T22:02:22.955-07:00could be a life-changing moment at the kopi tiamevery morning, i swing by this coffee-shop near my place to get my coffee and breakfast before heading to work. one morning last week, the auntie at the stall asked me if i wanted to join some bible study class at her church. and she suggested i could go with her son. i asked her how old her son is, and she said, " about your age - 25."<br /><br />that was a suggestion of 2 conversions in a split second at the kopi tiam - both are potentially life changing, not exactly the kind of place i expect such meaning of life to happen. 5 frozen seconds of life in the most unexpected place, we both heard Beethoven's 5th Symphony in the air which stopped when i said, "no thanks." the buzz of the kopi tiam came back on, life goes on, though i savoured the 25-years-of age bit for a good few days.kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-38162525917040512312010-08-15T06:17:00.000-07:002010-08-15T06:30:17.839-07:00stand up for Singapore talentswatched 2 re-runs in a day - YOG and National Day Parade - a bit moving becos of mixed feelings - feel proud but really sometimes quite painful to be Singaporean, or live in Singapore ( can sell chewing already or not..? Please pay local talents as much as foreign ones also please...) We stand up for Singapore but also have to fight so hard all the time.. very tiring to keep standing and wait for daylight. Hopefully our next generation will inherit a nation that can be truly supportive and be proud of their own talents, a nation that doesn't short-changed its own talents any more. We already have a full-functioning country, now it is time to develop its arts and culture which have been neglected for so long - Bravo to Ivan Heng, Randy Chan, FARM, Malek and all the creative people who have worked months and months for these 2 landmark events of Singapore and made us so proud that Singaporean talents rock!<br /><br />running a small design studio, it is scary that in the papers, they kept saying how much the economy has grown and that employers should increase salary for employees, but in truth, small employers (at least speaking for myself) are not earning that much more, as the papers (or the government) are raving about. i remember that when i graduated from architectural degree in the early 90s, an honours degree grad like myself was paid 2.5K, today, it seems like that had remained constant. The pay has not increased because clients are not paying more. And in fact, if you get a government job, they try to squeeze you left right centre, how am i going to pay my staff more?<br /><br />Today, I have a dynamic studio of young grads who are focused on doing good jobs, they are happy and they are with me, but tomorrow, they will get married, have kids and need more money. But the fees that we are getting as design consultants seemed to have remained stagnant for the past 15 years, as far as i am in this industry. Not only it is stagnant, sometimes even we get less.<br /><br />A developed nation should start to treasure its own talents, and not focused on cutting our fees? Whcih part of the system went wrong? Why are local designers still treated as inferior to multi-national design conglomerates?kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-67452700071926622852010-07-11T10:36:00.000-07:002010-07-11T10:41:57.670-07:00aging and betterinngeach time i met someone - friend or otherwise - who hasn't seen me for a while, they either say (in amazement "you have lost weight!" or "you look better!" i figured that i probably started out very bad - like fat, or not gd looking, so anything from there can only be better.<br /><br />Strange friends.. maybe they got a little heftier, so by comparison, they thought i still look Primary 6 in size.<br /><br />but then again, i guess, if anything, i do make an effort to maintain my weight for practical reasons, because i'm just paranoid about not being able to fit in my clothes, and i hate shopping.kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-39206748463040971282010-06-17T21:45:00.000-07:002010-06-17T21:46:52.904-07:00http://spinstersclub.blogspot.com/just suddenly remember this blog that i started with 2 friends as a collective of spinsters once upon a time in our lives. So much memories. kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-75799588198585799102010-06-17T00:37:00.000-07:002010-06-17T00:37:00.301-07:00love is like a cigaretteit is bad for your health and it burns out in the end anyway.<br />it's easy to get tempted and it's hard to stop.<br /><br />i just quit smoking.kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-88904926280146699602010-06-16T02:04:00.000-07:002010-06-16T02:08:58.379-07:00leap and fallsomeone once said to me, trusting someone takes a leap of faith.<div><br /><div>but when u leap too high, you fall damn hard.</div></div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-53965091237711469082010-06-16T00:16:00.000-07:002010-06-16T09:15:01.249-07:00a word a dayAnnus Mirabalis is not some vulgar words as u might think, nor is it some unfortunate foreign-language name, this rather bad-looking word actually means something nice - "Wonderful Year" in Latin.<br /><br />this adds on to the only 2 other Latin phrases i know, my school mottos..<br />Filiae Melioris Aevi<br />Auspicium Melioris Aevi<br /><br />in no time, i'll be speaking Latin. it's good not to be understood. Things that people do not understand are usually deemed to be good and best of all, it intimidates.kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-47569224055077478632010-06-14T08:48:00.001-07:002010-06-14T08:50:02.583-07:00anti social bloggeri am one of those bloggers who blog because i think nobody will read it anyway.<div>so i hope not too many people read my blog. i turn to blogging because i kept losing my notebook. so it's sort of a source to vent out and scribble thoughts.</div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-78848458588289525302010-06-13T11:07:00.000-07:002010-06-13T11:26:35.089-07:00On quitting the cigarettesFor a long while, I thought I will never quit smoking.<div><br /><div>I have not touch a cigarette for exactly one month and 14 days now. I have been smoking for more than 2 decades, quitting smoking is a bit like quitting some kind of drugs, but easier. Both takes extreme determination, but with smoking, you do not suffer any physical discomfort at all, as opposed to drugs, in fact, you actually feel physically and mentally better.</div><div><br /></div><div>In the last 45 days, whenever things go wrong, there is something automatic in my body that will trigger the "need cigarette" button, that is why i failed in my previous attempts to quit, because i would tell myself "it has been such a shitty day, i shouldn't deprive myself of just a few cigarettes." so i never quit. because things go wrong every other 2 days, being a designer faced with mostly difficult clients.. which client is ever easy anyway? they all have their agenda, sometimes good ones so your suffering is more worth it, but sometimes bad ones, so it is truly suffering.</div><div><br /></div><div>for close friends who know me all these years, they are obviously amazed/shocked/in complete disbelief that i actually quit. i told them the time is right and didnt want to say too much because i am afraid that i will be back at it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight, i really felt like a cigarette, and it is as painful to resist as hell. thank god i am home and all cigarettes have long been thrown away, so i just have to bite a slipper. </div><div><br /></div><div>For those friends who wondered why, just to ease the urge now, maybe i should remind myself publicly finally my reason for quitting so you can now all scorn at me in case i do pick up a cig -</div><div>my mum went for a major surgery recently and after that, she, as someone who can usually take much more physical pain that my dad, told us how unbearable the surgery was, and for reasons, this surgery can only administer localised anesthesia, so she is made aware of the surgery which lasted 2 hours and whether it is psychological or it is physical, she described to us the pain and it really breaks my heart and makes me cry. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>my mum has never ask of me anything. the only thing she constantly nagged at me over the years is to quit smoking. i was irritated all these years, i am not any more. it is such a small thing to do for her, if she could just be healthy for a long, long time.</div><div><br /></div><div>this is a sort of a personal oath that i took.</div></div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-17802201272708686862010-06-02T07:35:00.000-07:002010-06-02T07:48:15.669-07:00World Expo-ed - part1<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_J7ieVGfAcg3J1wqpKgqq-Zi3iWLY2shjhWGGStPk2NhmIPmJ7r9OwTLSwANV8XSMI8ejZG_0HZTRsYUmVboKbAHq9H9PgpIrXFQNnalCi0TAw0irSIHZQa9qtgUcgben0gCc5sgcB5A/s1600/RIMG0086.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ_J7ieVGfAcg3J1wqpKgqq-Zi3iWLY2shjhWGGStPk2NhmIPmJ7r9OwTLSwANV8XSMI8ejZG_0HZTRsYUmVboKbAHq9H9PgpIrXFQNnalCi0TAw0irSIHZQa9qtgUcgben0gCc5sgcB5A/s320/RIMG0086.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478186628030833170" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn94UG6c9lJS6EbLteozmjRp2sQdG1xFHHvrKH6LA9KWEt-C4DsrYgeu6H3f3_RRX0FSe85bDJJtFZYrtYJuap1v315BetRlUKe8gBVtYrtvUvDs2pLoLLsNlrt4hxfmI3jj9dsSXJUO2X/s1600/RIMG0204.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn94UG6c9lJS6EbLteozmjRp2sQdG1xFHHvrKH6LA9KWEt-C4DsrYgeu6H3f3_RRX0FSe85bDJJtFZYrtYJuap1v315BetRlUKe8gBVtYrtvUvDs2pLoLLsNlrt4hxfmI3jj9dsSXJUO2X/s320/RIMG0204.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478186620266907426" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8J-WaL10eGADi4UVvSOEFG_-OZ3_AYSE28A1GfsBIqwfGyO7iEO44iLcFjk9-D17n368TCjljsw5CErJ0T-EC9qaGQJedSi6MhD084YpyXg4AwTlpYpvBP6Tn4wplqyUzjNAKkoI731h/s1600/RIMG0103.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8J-WaL10eGADi4UVvSOEFG_-OZ3_AYSE28A1GfsBIqwfGyO7iEO44iLcFjk9-D17n368TCjljsw5CErJ0T-EC9qaGQJedSi6MhD084YpyXg4AwTlpYpvBP6Tn4wplqyUzjNAKkoI731h/s320/RIMG0103.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478186614372432498" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-rV3nOHhXhQMtuVuLsLKcApA6kehGS1rrrPfmH677JpI7Ul2IaXmMxYi9A7dbcC1UJY2xwfq0FJp2achBDf1yH9CKzc4yKZ4ATLsD24Fql_l3aAaZEXcB9w1jzNIIgFVLwUtop0OWLSJ/s1600/RIMG0131.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe-rV3nOHhXhQMtuVuLsLKcApA6kehGS1rrrPfmH677JpI7Ul2IaXmMxYi9A7dbcC1UJY2xwfq0FJp2achBDf1yH9CKzc4yKZ4ATLsD24Fql_l3aAaZEXcB9w1jzNIIgFVLwUtop0OWLSJ/s320/RIMG0131.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478186604642242082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoYlmoPnK0EMY0_81pNPOqjlkQasToE_Ui2K9kAnZnYKSNR0E8L7qLVlXWK8hgWXn6pYh7RH3UkPBtE_RQPBKZxGW0QtymkpAyTHkmK9xLWC7aEWUa2LzIgPtv1MUIY1EmVnjaSPu5NY9/s1600/RIMG0040.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAoYlmoPnK0EMY0_81pNPOqjlkQasToE_Ui2K9kAnZnYKSNR0E8L7qLVlXWK8hgWXn6pYh7RH3UkPBtE_RQPBKZxGW0QtymkpAyTHkmK9xLWC7aEWUa2LzIgPtv1MUIY1EmVnjaSPu5NY9/s320/RIMG0040.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478186597611578562" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>The world expo is like an architecture wonderland, and it's actually very festive and fun!</div><div>i actually quite enjoyed myself. more pictures will follow..</div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-57075425889393001032010-06-02T07:28:00.000-07:002010-06-02T07:34:23.108-07:00i'm a winner!i couldn't believe myself - one whole successful month of no smoking - BYE BYE CIGARETTES!!!<div>And thank god - no i did not put on an extra ounce. It is not true that you put on weight after you quit, all that crap about how your body increases its metabolism rate because of cigarettes and when you quit, your body sort of gets retarded and doesn't digest as fast and hence you become fat. Crap! </div><div><br /></div><div>I actually feel very happy with myself :)</div><div><br /></div><div>and now if you will excuse me, i'm going to run in the green open fields with the sun behind me and scream - I'm a win-nnnaaaaaaa!! </div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-39853592235040007262010-05-24T10:36:00.000-07:002010-05-24T10:37:15.819-07:00Diggerboy & 22 smoke-free days!<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia">I just officially completed 22 smoke-free days. it's really, really, really hard to quit but i guess when u find a really good reason to do so, and when you are mentally ready, it is possible, but not easy. Some days i crave for a smoke so badly i feel like hitting someone on the head, when i should be biting a rubber slipper or i'll bite someone's head off. someone please chain me up when i have these thoughts.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia">my mum is recovering well from her surgery, it always breaks my heart to see her suffering. i hope she recovers soon. she is completely addicted to the taiwanese drama on weekend nights. still homebound, that is sort of the highlight of the week now. i've never seen her so addicted to a TV series. I watch 100 episodes of stupid Japanese drama almost non-stop once when i was in the hospital for weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:0cm;margin-bottom:.0001pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;font-family:Georgia;mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:16.0pt;font-family:Georgia; mso-bidi-font-family:Georgia">my nephew's latest craze is to dig for treasure and collect stamps. he wants to be called Diggerboy and pesters me for stamps whenever he is not being Diggerboy. Last few weeks, he is obsessed with pretending that i am his taxi, he will dial for me and i have to carry him around. his destinations revolve around BathroomLand, PillowLand, TVLand. I finally understand why my dad was kind of upset when i grew up. My nephew is so damn cute.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-13821916322001702852010-05-24T10:23:00.000-07:002010-05-24T10:36:32.391-07:00the most inefficient place in Spore<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">21st May 2010 11am</p><p class="MsoNormal">I had to renew my passport and while I’m often appreciative of Singapore/Singaporean’s efficiency in many things, I finally discovered the most inefficient place in Singapore. Thank god I only have to come here once every 10 years – the ICA. After you filled up a form, wrote a cheque, got your picture taken, you imagine that you could just stroll in at the ICA and pick up your passport in a matter of seconds. Firstly, my photo got rejected because about 0.5cm of my eyebrows was “covered” by my fringe. Mind you, I did take extra care in gluing my fringe to the side when I took the photo, knowing that the all the facial features should be “fully revealed”. Anyway, I had to retake my photo, send it down personally and wait for my turn to get the passport fixed. After waiting for an hour, which I was told, I was still about 100 person behind in Q-number. I came back the next day and I had to take another Q-number which puts me at about 300 persons behind the current Q-number. The waiting hall is filled with bored people who are resigned at having to spend the whole afternoon staring at the electronic Q-number board (wondering if they have a name for that). So thank god I have my laptop, as I am writing here and after having spent an hour sitting and waiting, I am still about 100 persons behind – just to pick up my passport!! I feel more like an immigrant waiting for an interview or something. Couldn’t they make the collection more efficient? More counters? More manpower? Better computer system? Surely there is something they can do about this right?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">My friend from Malaysia, who once had to go back to JB to renew her passport, reached there, and walked into a dim room with few people, at first thrilled thinking she doesn’t have to Q-up, she went up to the Q-less counter and the girl behind said, “no electricity.” As she needed to travel soon, and really wanted to get her passport fixed, she asked the girl what could she do. “Go KL.” Desperate, she drove up to KL from JB and she Q-ed for hours waiting for her turn, and finally when it was her, she happily went up to the counter and explained the urgency of her passport and the girl behind the counter replied, ”Passport out of stock.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Maybe I am in a more fortunate position, but still, right now, I am about 70 persons behind. Sigh.</p> <!--EndFragment-->kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-48502373882302642202010-05-19T08:40:00.000-07:002010-05-19T08:50:22.948-07:00there's no time limit on your dreamsjust watched a Susan Boyle documentary, and like the 1st time i watched her sang "I dream a dream", she makes me cry. it takes so much guts for someone like her to go up the stage to do an audition that is broadcasted worldwide. People are often unforgiving of fat, frumpy, old, not so good-looking people in general, and to stand on a stage to sing.. gosh it takes so much courage and determination.<div><br /></div><div>i'm happy that her dream came true and as one of her fans said in the documentary "Susan showed us that there's no time limit on your dreams." you just have to stop whining and get out there and do the things you want to do, even if it is going to break you. But if you believe in it enough, or put in enough hard work, it's more likely to make you, like Susan.</div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-4116843688720097442010-04-06T01:49:00.000-07:002010-07-04T10:49:34.174-07:00meantime in bricklanei was having a beer on bricklane in London, and there is this completely sleazy guy, obviously trying to pick up a girl half his age.. and he said, amongst many hair-standing things.. i don't feel old, when i am in my shorts and T-shirt, i feel like a boy again! He, with his huge beer belly, looks about 55 to me and the girl, about 25. Likening himself to being a boy is quite a stretch. and that idea of him being in shorts - yikes, yikes, yikes.<br /><br />as my gay friend would say, "Shine the Mirror, shine the mirror at look at you!"kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-58656959364913289082010-04-06T01:33:00.000-07:002010-07-04T10:43:32.436-07:00The reward for love is the experience of lovingso the last of my inner circle friends have gotten married and i attended the wedding in London. as with all solemnisation, when the couple said their vows, i just cried like a tap. maybe bcos that left me to be the last spinster standing, damn it. anyway, i am a romantic that way. Just to listen to two people (in love) telling each other into one another's eyes how they want to spend the rest of their lives taking care of each other and loving each other, til death do they part - never fails to move me. perhaps because i have never made a vow as such. and i know if i ever should, it will be for real. i take my vows very seriously and if i should make one, it has to mean it. so whenever i believe people are taking it the same serious way, it is truly one of the most romantic thing you can ever say to another person. and the groom, Mark, in his speech, said to my dear friend Klara, one of the toughest and funniest person i know , that, "every time i looked at this woman, working next to me (they work together), i have no doubt that this is the woman i want to spend the rest of my life with." i just cried like a baby. gosh, we're hardly near Notting Hill. Too much romantic comedies!!!<br /><br />im thankful for friends, as always, who in their strange ways make their silent vows of being with you forever. and today i was, as usual, hanging out with my very pregnant best friend Joce, who has been thru a hell lot of a live, in consolation for me or in jest of herself, told me about this man she is marrying. When they broke up, she literally chased him out of the house to stay in Hotel 81 (hahaha) when they broke up (he is a foreigner here so no family home to go back to), for 3 years they figured out their lives, and they are married today. and yes, they actually used to live in Notting Hill. Romantic Comedies do happen, and i am so glad it happened for my dear dear friend. it's an amazing story, and it made me cry again. Argh.kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-66727471945963865102010-03-31T10:12:00.000-07:002010-03-31T11:05:04.373-07:00The highest state of celibacyi was on the plane to HK today and after i was seated comfortably, as usual hoping the next 2 seats beside me will be empty. when you are cramped in the coach, that is the biggest luxury, like striking 4D. Just when i thought it was my lucky day, what looked like a father and a daughter came and sat themselves next to me. Bummer. No luck. The girl was extremely jovial, speaking in a mix of Mandarin, English and very bad Cantonese, even by my Teochew standards.<div><br /></div><div>The 3 and a half hours turned out to be a complete torture of feeling like a spare tyre (yes, 3rd wheel) even though i don't even know them. But that kind of cramped situation, even with my headphones, inflight movies and little inflight snacks, made me a reluctant voyeur (with little pleasure). The schmutzy mushy hair-standing meaningless lovers' talk coupled with the touchy-feely hum sup action going on, I am not sure if i was on a flight or in Tian An Men. It was completely lusty with no sense of romance, and when the girl started to do her in-flight shopping spree while her hum sup man eagerly whipped out his credit card completed the story. I took pain to be subtle and observed a ring on the 4th finger on the left hand of the man and nothing on the girl's except gory manicure. </div><div><br /></div><div>That girl gosh she looked like 21 and that man damn he looked 55. Every time he rubbed her exposed thighs and she reacted with rubbing his balding head - i cringed with the intensity akin to watching a butcher kill a pig. the cold stale inflight air with that action going on made me feel like i was being contaminated. I feel dirty just sitting next to them and in my mind, i was pouring a whole bottle of dettol over this undesirable couple, as if it would cleanse away some of their sins and some of the dirtiness they made me tolerate. and that girl, torturing the old man with some childish orders of random commands of making him smile and frown, like 20 times, in very rare moments of devastation, i hope the plane will crash. it was that intolerable.</div><div><br /></div><div>someone once told me, taking a flight pumps up her adrenaline and somewhat makes her high in a sexual way. In this case, the unfortunate mind of mine takes a dive into what happens in some dodgy hotel between this old man and young girl, and that makes whatever little food there was in my stomach wants to charge out of my mouth, which would propel me to the highest state of celibacy. </div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-23084737477756328782009-12-22T09:18:00.000-08:002009-12-24T01:18:54.078-08:00Our Embarrassing Budget TerminalI just came back from a trip from Phuket and this is the first time I've tried a budget flight. It was a last minute trip and to book a ticket to Phuket on Silkair on the desired dates, it cost roughly about S$1200 round trip, a price i could fly to Europe in less desirable dates. It is very complex how they calculate these fares, a day can make a difference of a few hundred dollars, and booking a day after you consider can see a sudden rise in the fares, and you can hardly even try to conclude any certain trends, studying these fares and strategising when to buy your ticket makes watching the stock market feels as relaxing as having an ice cream with my little nephew. At this time of the year, to book a flight, it is a profound decision to decide how much you want to be chopped - with a small, medium or big parang (huge meat-cutting knife, if you wonder what parang means). One way or another it is going to be painful. <div><br /></div><div>Anyways, so i got a reasonably humanely priced ticket from Tiger Airways and nervously i told the Taxi driver to go to the Budget Terminal. My nightmare hence began. The Taxi Driver started to ask me how much i pay and if the budget planes are safe to travel in. I really want to know too. He made me really nervous, reminding me of a few plane crashes with various foreign budget air. The part where i was close to asking him to turn back and take me to the warm comforts of my home with no life-threatening vacations and the warm fake furs of my teddy bears as when taxi uncle said, "I think their engine not so good hor!!" i had a nauseating feeling which was positively not from his 60km/hr driving. It was from the brainwashing. When we were approaching the terminal, the bright-red handwritten-type font that screamed "BUDGET TERMINAL" aggravated my nausea. I felt a sense of panic. </div><div><br /></div><div>I came out a nervous wreck from the Taxi, and upon first sight when i stepped out into the Budget Terminal, i thought i had arrived in the Phuket Airport. As if i had a hallucination, the world's best airport (in most years) boast of such a sparse shoddy architecture. </div><div><br /></div><div>To my horror, when i stepped into the check-in hall, i thought that i just stepped into a foodcourt, horrible lighting, bad details, bad materials, all bad. The lines of people at the check-in counters is reminiscent of people Q-ing for Cha-Kway-Keows or Carrot Cakes in a hawker centres. I want to be clear - I am all for budget airlines that make us so much more mobile, but this airport architecture is excruciating. Why is it that low-budget must mean no design? Does the design have to reflect the word "Budget Terminal"? There are so many bright young designers in Singapore who will be able to make this a bit more presentable. There as as much thoughts put into this as designing a foodcourt. How many young designers would kill to have the challenge of making a budget terminal look cool? Many. </div><div><br /></div><div>The nightmare continued when i stepped past the passport checks and i felt nothing less than stepping into a JB Mall shopping for cheap Attack washing powders or Head & Shoulders Shampoo. As i was having a panic attack and looking for the washroom, it is time to board. You know, there is this feeling when you are really high tide and when you stepped into a toilet, it heightens that urge to pee.. When i got into the gate area, i had that terrible urge-to-pee feeling because i thought that i just stepped into a huge public toilet and lines of people Q-ing at different "cubicles" (the gates, really). The 20by20 homogeneous tiles a bit beige-y, a bit brownish, you can only find in all public toilets in Singapore - it is all over. Complete with uneven grouting lines, it was hard-core public toilet aesthetics. </div><div><br /></div><div>When i finally got to the Phuket Airport, it was actually a relief. At least i feel more at home with that, feasting on the food of the push-cart hawker food. There is at least no pretensions to be first-class in everything, it is consistent and consistency is important to keep an individual or a nation sane. </div><div><br /></div><div>I flew back to tonight and as i boarded a taxi to get home, the very good natured taxi driver told me that he just dropped an Aussie traveller who asked to take a taxi from terminal 1 to the budget terminal. Very little money and he said some taxi drivers would complain but he said, we all just have to do our job. Very nice guy but really very bad budget terminal. </div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-44922856550232282082009-12-22T08:22:00.000-08:002009-12-24T02:02:09.106-08:00Chanel could rockI am recently recruiting and suddenly i remember an interview i once had with a candidate (not very potential one).<div><br /></div><div>She came for the position of assistant editor. we stated that a knowledge in design and architecture is essential and we were honest enough to state that we are a publisher of that nature. And yes we do state our company name. Unlike some ads that vaguely and almost always Urgently seeks certain positions e.g. "Waitresses with customer experience needed. Able to work late hours. Commissions." Hardly a Crystal Jade or a school cafe position. They are really either seeking a Tiger auntie in Ang Mo Kio or a Tigress in Orchard Towers, or possibly a new position for one of our upcoming integrated resorts.</div><div><br /></div><div>So back to this little Arts and Social Science grad with a little literary ambition. Wide-eyed and narrowed-brained, she might actually be more suited for the late hours with commissions position. After some small talk of her hobbies and family background checks, just to be sure in case she is going to ask me for contacts for Orchard Towers, I asked her, "So you like design?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes..." the tone a bit unsure..</div><div>Technically a must-have for this position.</div><div>"So can you name a few of your favourite designers?"</div><div>"ERm.. i don't really have any favourite designers..."</div><div>Hmmm.. ok not very boomz .. but i've decided to be kind and try again.</div><div>"Any designer - product, graphic, fashion....?" I've decided to leave out architects, the most misunderstood design profession.. when i once did a vacation stint for quick money in a not-so-design-driven firm to do quick designs, I handled many confident tow-kays and rich aunties who pointed enthusiastically to the neighbour's multi-cultural pediments and bastardised corinthian columns complete with boy statues peeing and told me that is their dream home. And it was not uncommon that we have requests for "country style" which is their dream home. The term dream home was at one point a nightmare term to me. Why would you want a bloody country style home when you can't really keep cows and horses in your 1500 sqm semi-detached house? And i don't really know how to handle that fireplace. We do not study that in architecture schools in Singapore, for reasons that are very hard to explained to these country-loving aunties. Really, our country-house equivalent in this part of the world will be the attap house in Chua Chu Kang, if they still keep pigs. </div><div><br /></div><div>So back to Miss Not-very-Boomz, she was really tensed when i apparently pressed her for an answer. She asked for 5 minutes to think. I obliged and in the 5 minutes, i cut and filed my nails like any bored secretary should do to kill time. It felt like 30 minutes and i hope i had more nails. </div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, she said hesistantly, "Chanel...?"</div><div>Before i could say "Next!" like any impatient Polyclinic doctor in Tiong Bahru, she saw a drop of blood dripping from my left eye. But i am no miracle Mother Mary statue. I am her nightmare, and she declined the position before i even offered. I could have, if i was working on a movie script about how i picked the most unlikely candidate in a highly competitive interview (as we set it up like it was) and train her into a rock star editor. She didn't give me the chance. We could be famous for different things. And maybe i could evolve my publishing business into the movie world, very much in line with the MDA's crossing platform initiative.</div><div><br /></div><div>If the movie "Coco before Chanel" came before her interview, she might have uttered that name with much more confidence, and actually Chanel is cool about 80 years ago (now maybe she really meant Karl Lagerfeld..), and if she could really sell me that how she admired Chanel (and not Karl Lagerfeld), she could be truly unique above all the rest of the candidates who threw out the name "Philippe Starck" as if they were throwing out an amah-bra (aka granny's size 48DD bra) at me - a big gift on their part, but on my part, a bit embarrassing, a bit dated and just doesn't turn me on too much.</div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-79588437766852065812009-12-17T06:07:00.000-08:002009-12-17T06:17:19.944-08:00editing everything except lifeeveryday i am editing stuff.. edit edit edit.. and sometimes it feels like a job sometimes it feels strange because i am empowered to edit everybody's text, which consists on thoughts, which is based on life. very important job to not undermine anyone's text nor life, and at the same time not to let it look bad.<div><br /></div><div>when will i find time to edit my own life...? My house is a perpetual mess with piles of books, magazines, documents to read, letters to open, bills to pay, laundry to wash, floor to mop, shelves to clean...my personal life is in a perpetual last-minute get-togethers, not wanting to dismiss any of my friend's special occasions and invitations, every waking minute is about delivering every job we have to the best we know, dealing with clients' requests and wishes, thank god to a dream team who sensitively try to ease my burden in whatever ways they can.</div><div><br /></div><div>If only i could edit my life, so many things could be better, just like most of the text that i edited. </div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-40734920016932949752009-12-15T09:06:00.000-08:002009-12-15T09:42:17.737-08:00how does it feel to wait to die?My grandma had a stroke 2 years ago, which rendered her in a invalid state, she could hardly speak nor move any more. Before the stroke, she was already quite sickly, so the family hired a maid to take care of her every move. Thank god for Lily, she is a friendly, optimistic and hardworking maid. Over the years, she became the lifeline of grandma, because most of us are always busy working. She was our interpreter because she could read grandma's every whimper and every twitch of her left hand. Unlike The Diving Bell and The Butterfly, we didn't gp as far as to devise a communication system for grandma, much less to write a book. We should be ashamed. <div><br /></div><div>It is a lonely state as a stroke patient. Your mind is aware of everything, but you are trapped in your own thoughts without any means of expression. To me, it is a state worse than death. I would choose euthanasia, and this is scary because it is illegal in Singapore, and i would have chosen that.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last week, grandma took a turn for the worse. She had a blood clog in one of her artilleries, which is life-threatening. And the doctor advised against any surgery as it would be too much for her to take. They can only prescribe medicine to ease her pain. </div><div><br /></div><div>We took turns to visit grandma at the hospital, and all we could do is to stand around and everyone is silent except Lily who will be updating us on what grandma did that day, or how she is feeling. Occasionally we took turns to hold grandma's hand, and she would just look at you. Those eyes were calm but sad. I held back my tears and as i listened to Lily in the background talking jovially that grandma is happy to see us and she is in good spirits today, it made me want to hit myself with a brick. </div><div><br /></div><div>When we were young, we used to stay over every weekend at grandma's place, and she would take us out for walks, buy us any tidbits we want, cooked dinner for us, occasionally teaching us a few words in Thai and laughing at us when we pronounced badly.</div><div><br /></div><div>Grandma came from a family of goldsmiths in Thailand, a pretty wealthy family. She was the youngest of 3 sisters, but she left the family for love. I was told that she eloped with Grandpa, who was a sailor from China. The family was so angry they apparently disowned her for a while, so my mum told me. She was a tyrant mum, as my mum described, because she wasn't used to doing housework, so my mum and my 2nd auntie became the housekeepers since they were young. But grandma always pampered us, all her grandchildren. A weekend at grandma's place was always like a holiday. She would cook us the best food she can and allow us to watch video tapes all night long, something we don't get to do at home .. much, except for term breaks.</div><div><br /></div><div>My mum and all my aunties and uncles still addressed her as "mek", which is "mother" in Thai. My generation almost completely lost touch with our Thai relatives. Sometimes i wonder who these aunties, uncles, cousins, nieces and nephews that I have in Bangkok whom i will never meet. Sometimes i hope that one day I will meet them all. It is a sad cliche, but if i run into one of them on the street, i really wouldn't even know.</div><div><br /></div><div>Grandma lies there, occasionally falling asleep probably due to the strong painkillers. But when she opens her eyes she will stare intently at each of us, intermittently, as we stand helpless and useless in front of her. She can never ever tell her story again. And we will live, wondering about the story of grandma. </div><div><br /></div><div>Grandma lies there, her eyes tell us that she knows that she is dying. And we stand helpless and useless in front of her. She tells us it is ok. And i hit myself with a brick. I still cannot feel her real pain.</div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-397739857397094479.post-2575289303445141372009-12-07T09:13:00.000-08:002009-12-07T09:24:00.716-08:00A Gay ConfrontationA close friend of mine, who is completely gay, but looks and acts completely straight, as in, you will not for a minute suspect that she is gay if you do not know her, and who is a teacher in a primary school, told me something really funny.<div><br /></div><div>There was a new American teacher who just joined the school and as with most Americans, are enthusiastic and friendly, came up to her on the first day and said:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Hi! I'm your new colleague! I'm Gaye, you are?"</div><div><br /></div><div>My friend was really shocked and she wondered who leaked that information about her because she has not told anyone in school. In her panic, she said:</div><div><br /></div><div>"ERM, let me think...."</div><div><br /></div><div>Gaye was puzzled, "What?" she questioned.</div><div><br /></div><div>Concluding very quickly that even if a colleague came out to her on her first day of work, even if she had exude any vague gay vibes, my dear friend decided to stick to her grounds of being in the closet as far as school is concerned, so she thought she cleverly said:</div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm NOT!" </div><div><br /></div><div>Her guilty conscious had unfortunately turned against her when Gaye asked:</div><div><br /></div><div>"Your name is Nought...?"</div><div><br /></div><div>My friend, in a matter of 2 minutes, digged a 5-metre deep hole and plunge herself into endless embarrasement. </div>kelleychenghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17558371814102826960noreply@blogger.com0