Names

Everyone daydreams about what they want to name their children someday, however distant in the future. Well, girls probably wonder more about their kids surnames, if you know what I mean.

My secret ambition has always been to name my child Han Solo if it’s a boy, and Leia if it’s a girl…

Except that I want them to actually have a life.

Which brings me to my point. There are many poor kids around whose names make you want to shake their parents and ask WHY?

Take for instance this dude from school. Every time a teacher reads out the class register it will go something like this:

Teacher: “And next on the list…*awkward silence*…er… how would you like me to address you?”
Him: “Just what it says on the list is fine.”
Teacher: “Er… Napolean? What do your friends call you?”
Him (in a resigned tone): “Napolean lar….”

Napolean. I know him and he’s really one of the nicest guys. Funny, easy-going, smart and no desire whatsoever to “take over the world”. But what does the real Napolean (“big N”) have that made new napoleon’s parents (“small N”… or is it the other way around??) want to name him so? Not to wish upon him big N’s physical qualities surely?

And don’t even get me started on the number of Zhi Hong’s I know. C’mon, everyone knows a few. It’s sad how parents fail to realize that a seemingly innocuous name like Zhi Hong can end up a mangled Chee Hong in dialect.

To be fair, not all unfortunate names come from parents. Classmates and friends can be equally cruel. Who can forget how Kok Yiming got christened by his classmates. “Kok” is not an uncommon surname by any means, but one day, for some inexplicable reason (try boredom), the group of us just started calling him Harry. This anecdote is not the least bit flattering to our level of maturity then, but Harry Kok has been Harry ever since.

Sometimes, the cultural context can twist a perfectly innocent name. I once knew this Vietnamese guy called Dong. Now, I don’t doubt for a moment that this is a completely legitimate name in Vietnamese, but in English, it just precious. Every time I see him around, it is all I can do to stop myself from calling out, “Hey Dong! How’s it hangin’?”

Speaking of interesting bodily appendages brings to mind a guy I once knew, called “Shin”. This is how Shin introduces himself:

Him: “Hi, my name is Shin.”
You: “Shin?”
Him: “Ya, and if you forget it, I’ll kick you in the shin.”
You: “Riiight.”
Him: “So you better be thankful my name is not Groin.”

Ha. Ha. Ha. Funny. Except he probably introduces himself in that way to everyone he meets. And, he fails to see, from the examples of all the unfortunate characters above, that he is the one who should be thanking his stars that he is not Groin Tan.

just a holding note...

ok, this is just a brief note to verify that this blog still lives. And, a shout out to a person named seeker, who once requested I write an article about "how to casually hook onto a conversation with pple from all walks of life"...

I dunno who seeker is, but since this blog has this very one "fan", I would really hate to disappoint. Just so you know, I have the article almost done (damn long time, I know... sorry) but it's purely in the context of picking up girls... haha... forgive me, but although I know the phrase "pple from all walks of life" includes all manner of human beings, why the hell would you wanna "hook" up with a non-female??

But again, I digress. What I really wanted to say is that although it's more or less done, I still gonna wait til after exams before putting it up. Why? I'm having some trouble with the title. I have need to run some experiments in the library during this exam period before deciding whether to name the article "5 good ways to pick up girls" or "How NOT to pick up girls"...

Haha... all in the spirit of enquiry.

December Training Camp 2004

Something I wrote to advertise an upcoming camp. In the face of impending exams no less.

December Training Camp 2004

Ok let’s face it. Physical fitness doesn’t play that large a role in windsurfing. Toned arms and washboard abs won’t make you any less prone to falling into the water.

I was stranger to this fact until a conversation I had with our captain last year.

Her: “…first day’s dinner would be stingray, duck rice etc, all the wonders East Coast Food Centre can offer. And the next day’s BBQ…”
Me: “What?! This is supposed to be a training camp right? Shouldn’t we like… watch our diet?”
Her (in a sagely manner): “When is windsurfing ever about physicality? Have you even seen some of the best surfers lounging around every weekend? Ah Peks every one. Having a pot belly never hurt anybody…”

Ok maybe it didn’t go exactly like that. All I am saying is training camp is no boot camp. Good food aside, last year’s camp was fun-filled, relaxing and exhilarating all at once. The beachside location created the perfect setting for lame jokes (those that make you hate yourself for laughing), even lamer games (those that make you go Huh??) and for just generally enjoying the company of new friends (those whom you want to strangle for making the aforementioned lame jokes).

Make no mistake. Actual race training was fun too, albeit of a different kind. Upon entering the water on Day 1, many of us felt the power of the North-East Monsoon, in all its glory, for the very first time. The fantastic thing was that everyone worked hard despite having different proficiency levels. The newer surfers showed great resilience in battling the wind while the slightly more experienced ones gallantly went about rescuing and instructing those in need. “Messy” as it was on the first day, there was something for everyone. New surfers gained experience under impossibly strong wind conditions and experienced surfers were suitably challenged in aiding them as well.

The subsequent sessions under the coach’s careful instruction, there was marked improvement in everyone’s surfing technique. As many started to tackle the race course with finesse and relative ease, the training became more about learning race tips, strategies and all other subtleties required to do well. Those used to racing would know the import of the starting sequence and the “chope-ing” of a good place on the start line. Significantly more difficult than placing a packet of tissues on the seat at a food court, it took much diligence before we got the timing down pat. The reward was the immensely gratifying feeling of having started a race properly, leaving opponents in your wake.

At the end, evidence of a successful training camp came in form of blistered hands, sore muscles, and ultimately, the satisfied smiles of all 30 campers.

Plus or minus an additional pot belly.

Will the real me please stand up?

Ok, ignore the damn title. That particular song is no longer a "hip" pop culture reference. So is the word hip, come to think of it...

But anyway, it is with considerable consternation that I've come to realise that some of my friends, my dear buddies, think i am desperate.

Empathize with me as a tell you this. Just the other day, I was having a chat with a friend. It was set somewhat like a counselling session and it went something like this:

...

Me: "Ok don't worry, hit me. If there's really contructive feedback I would like to know."
Her: "Hmm, ok... maybe... maybe you should not show people that u really want a girlfriend."
Me: "What?! When did I ever say that?!"
Her: "Erm, you tell everyone that... and its on your blog."
Me: "And you think I'm serious??"
Her: "You mean you aren't?"
Me: [expletive, expletive. (in my head of course)]

OMG... I thought people would be able to pick up on the fact that I was joking! I hestitate to shout to the world that I am leading a brilliant life and luurve being single, because that might sound just a tad like I am being sourgrapes. But the honest truth is that I wanted this blog to be a bit tongue in cheek, irreverend and self-deprecating. Poking fun at my own emotional state and playing the role of a despo dude is infinitely more interesting than to giving a socio-political commentary on the effects of the hike in oil prices.


But I am not just trying to salvage what's left of my reputation. I don't really mind strangers gossiping or rubbishing my good name, but... Friends!!! Dear friends. I'm cool. Really. We should be on the same page, for heaven's sake!!! sigh...

But if you guys still think I am lonely, one of you could always set me up with your sister. I'm fine with that. Ok... I kid.

Please, I beg of you. Read my blog with a whole spatula full of salt. I assure you that I am not a despo chee koh pek. haha. I doubt that my entries would ever be sensitive in nature, and the worst I could do would probably be to act a little chauvinistic at times. Who knows, one day maybe taking digs at the opposite sex may be restricted under the Sedition Act; and in case that day comes, I would like to profess that I am a peace-loving, hippie-like person. Take everything salted and remember that seemingly MCP guys love girls too. But NOT desperately so.