It was a dark and stormy night.
As the gates at Terminal 2 of Changi Airport, Singapore opened for London-bound passengers, the image of a tall, dark stranger could vaguely be made out in the distance, against the backdrop of the palm trees which stuck out in the indoor setting like, well, palm trees in an airport. He cut an imposing figure, and the crowd parted for him as he silently strode forth, like the sea for Moses.

His long strides brought him to the gates, but his reluctance to make this trip made him feel like a lamb to the slaughter. He reached the front of the check-in counter, and perfunctorily slipped his shades down to the edge of his nose as he surveyed his surroundings. The gleam in his eyes, that wry, enigmatic smile, they were all unmistakable.
It was time for Jonny Baby to bid goodbye to any semblance of humidity for a good 10 months. Even the lady behind the counter seemed captivated by him (or so he thought. Which wasn't unusual).

He was smitten with this perfect female specimen in front of him. This must surely have been the Creator's intention when he first crafted Woman. She was no more than 21 (not her age, his ranking of her appearance on a scale of 1 to 10), tall, leggy and blonde.
And then he put down the magazine with Paris Hilton on the cover and proceeded to hand his passport to the relatively unattractive lady behind the counter. To be fair, she did resemble Paris Hilton. After being run over by a bus, and beaten with a baseball bat.

"You've been to quite a few places recently, sir." She quipped.
"I can take you to places you've never been," came the repartee he felt was rather witty, accompanied with his best cheeky smile.
Unsurprisingly, she was not impressed.

Had he really been places? He cursed his selective memory. He kept getting lapses in his memory, like that time when the 50 dollars Mother had given him for groceries had managed to disappear on the way and he'd returned home, having magically acquired a new pair of boots en route.

And then, bit by bit, the memories of his Indian summer came flooding back.

He had traversed the far corners of the world, if by far corners one means London, bits of Italy, Singapore and Australia. Or rather just the pitifully disappointing Melbourne.

He'd witnessed the triumph of evil over good, of ugly football over the beautiful game as Greece first fired a broadside to the other teams at Euro 2004 by conquering hosts Portugal, then claiming the scalps of France, favourites the Czech Republic and then hosts Portugal (hmm I remember typing this before) en route to lifting the Championship trophy, all this while playing the sort of defensive football their German counterparts would have beamed at and yet failed to produce.

And he'd embarked on his great self-improvement scheme.
The Jonny Baby Cultural Revolution had taken off with his 15-day whirlwind tour of Italy where he had taken in such awe-inspiring sights as the 5.2-m high David by Michaelangelo as well as his legendary work in the Sistine Chapel (read: Il Volta, The Last Judgement, et al) , Sandro Botticelli's The Birth of Venus and Allegory of Spring, Da Vinci's Last Supper in the Cenacolo Vinciano, and some mouth-watering Gelato shops, the last of which had left a most indelible impression on him. All of this was to some extent an information overload for the Philistine, who couldn't distinguish between a Caravaggio and a Raphael, an I.M.Pei from a Gustav Eiffel, a Sprite from a 7Up.

Not to be deterred, the valiant Jonny Baby had returned home and continued his enrichment programme by watching the high-brow likes of The OC and Joey, and he decided he liked art.

Before he could continue on his globe-trotting exploits, however, the hurdle that is the LSE Singapore Society lay in wait. And so it was that amid much bloodshed and carnage, the inaugural LSE Freshers’ Camp was conducted to some success. There he met the pretty girl newbies (he was happy) and the handsome boy newbies (he was threatened).

And with that, rid of his obligations, he'd heaved a sigh of relief. Oh, and popped on a plane to Melbourne, which he'd expected to be mind-numbingly boring.
To his chagrin, Melbourne didn't fail to disappoint, living up to its billing of being one of the most sleep-inducing destinations of the weary traveller.
Nonetheless, he'd celebrated his 18th birthday for the 3rd successive year there, an accomplishment which baffles scientists to this day.

-What dreams may come-

Talk about weird dreams. Last night I was walking around town with her. Go figure!

-The womenfolk! Save the women and children!-

This came from an email from a friend. And it's probably quite true, I really wouldn't know.

WORDS WOMEN USE

1. "Fine" This is the word women use at the end of any argument when they feel they are right but can't stand to hear you argue any longer. It means that you should shut up. (NEVER use "fine" to describe how she looks. This will cause you to have one of those arguments.)

2. "Five minutes" This is half an hour. It is equivalent to the five minutes that your football game is going to last before you take out the trash, so women feel that it's an even trade.

3. "Nothing" Nothing" means something and you should be on your toes. "Nothing" is usually used to describe the feeling a woman has of wanting to turn you inside out, upside down, and backwards. "Nothing" usually signifies an argument that will last "Five Minutes" and end with the word "Fine."

4. "Go Ahead" (with raised eyebrows) This is NOT permission; it's a dare! If you mistake it for permission, the result will be the woman will get upset over "Nothing" and you'll have a "five-minute" discussion that will end with the word "Fine."

5. "Go Ahead" (normal eyebrows) This is NOT permission, either. It means "I give up" or "do what you want because I don't care." You will get a raised eyebrow "Go Ahead" in just a few minutes, followed by "Nothing" and "Fine" and she will talk to you in about "Five Minutes" when she cools off.

6. "Loud Sigh" This is not actually a word, but is still often a verbal statement. Very frequently misunderstood by men. A "Loud Sigh" means she thinks you are a complete idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you over "Nothing!."

7. "Soft Sigh" Again, not a word, but a verbal statement. "Soft Sighs" are one of the few things that some men actually understand. It means she is momentarily content. Your best bet is to not move or breathe in the hope that the moment will last a bit longer.

8. "Oh" This word -- followed by any statement - is trouble. Example; "Oh, let me get that". Or, "Oh, I talked to him about what you were doing last night. "If she says "Oh" before a statement, run, do not walk, to the nearest exit. She will tell you that she is "Fine" when she is done tossing your clothes out the window, but do not expect her to talk to you for at least two days.("Oh" as the lead to a sentence usually signifies that you are caught in a lie. Do not try to lie more to get out of it, or you will get a raised eyebrow "Go ahead," sometimes followed by acts so unspeakable that I can't bring myself to write about them.

9. "That's Okay" This is one of the most dangerous statements that a woman can say to a man. "That's Okay" means that she wants to think long and hard before deciding what the penalty will be for whatever you have done. "That's Okay" is often used with the word "Fine" and in conjunction with a raised eyebrow "Go Ahead." Once she has had time to plan it out, you are in for some mighty big trouble.

10. "Please Do" This is not a statement, it is an offer. The woman is giving you the chance to come up with an excuse for what you have done. In other words, a chance to get yourself into even more trouble. If you handle this correctly, you shouldn't get a "That's Okay."

11. "Thanks" The woman is thanking you. Don't faint and don't look for hidden meaning. Just say "you're welcome."

12. "Thanks A Lot" "Thanks A Lot" is dramatically different from "Thanks." A woman will say "Thanks A Lot" when she is really ticked off at you. It is usually followed by the "Loud Sigh." This signifies that you have hurt her in some callous way. Be careful not to ask what is wrong after the "Loud Sigh," as she will only tell you "Nothing."

-Knock knock, anyone home? No? I'll just help meself to this Ming vase then.-

When people tell you to 'make yourself at home', they rarely mean it. It's a formality, a matter of courtesy. You still shouldn't lie on their beds since that shirt you've had on for the last half a week has seen much cleaner days.

Always drop in on the parents of the host and drop them a hi. It's only polite to do so.
You absolutely must not congratulate the lady of the house on 'being with child again', regardless of how classy you might think it sounds, or how confident you are that she is indeed pregnant, despute her rather old countenance.
Don't go snooping in people's rooms if not escorted by the host(s).
Having participated in an aggressive game of volleyball/badminton/popcorn-throwing, refrain from taking your shirt off and lying prostrate on their nicely waxed marble floors and attempting to make sweat angels.
Whatever you do, you're NOT to drool on their pillows, bolsters or favourite stuffed horses.

And just something I randomly picked up from a friend that really has no business being here: Wandering eyes that do not belong should keep theirs to themselves. And their shrivelled lips for that matter.

窗外的麻雀 在电线杆上多嘴
你说这一句 很有夏天的感觉
手中的铅笔 在纸上来来回回
我用几行字形容你是我的谁

秋刀鱼 的滋味 猫跟你都想了解
初恋的香味就这样被我们寻回
那温暖 的阳光 像刚摘的鲜艳草莓
你说你舍不得吃掉这一种感觉

雨下整夜 我的爱溢出就像雨水
院子落叶 跟我的思念厚厚一迭
几句是非 也无法将我的热情冷却
你出现在我诗的每一页

雨下整夜 我的爱溢出就像雨水

我接着写 把永远爱你写进诗的结尾
你是我唯一想要的了解

那饱满 的稻穗 幸福了这个季节
而你的脸颊像田里熟透的蕃茄
你突然 对我说 七里香的名字很美
我此刻却只想亲吻你倔强的嘴

雨下整夜 我的爱溢出就像雨水
院子落叶 跟我的思念厚厚一叠
几句是非 也无法将我的热情冷却
你出现在我诗的每一页 整夜

我的爱溢出就像雨水 窗台蝴蝶
像诗里纷飞的美丽章节 我接着写
把永远爱你写进诗的结尾
你是我唯一想要的了解

-Hmm, wonder what this little red button here does-

"Hey by the way, you can now order pirated dvds online" jkp

"Oh come on, daddy!"
"No, Daddy's not coming on anything!"

-Thank you, come again!-

In an exclusive interview with Jonny Baby, SDRR has begun to scratch the surface of what it is that could make the man get out of bed for less than $10,000.

To put it simply, free food and entertainment help.
As a belated birthday gift of sorts, he was treated to a grand lunch and then the movie with those 2 Asian leads, Harold and Kumar go to Whitecastle.

Dinner was settled at home, but in the company of 6 of his Singapore Society committee members, who sprang what cannot be considered a surprise on him. They popped over to his crib on the pretext of organising a meeting to discuss issues, but our JB was far too astute for that. That, and the fact that the Singsoc comm isn't particularly known for being very discreet about these things.
That notwithstanding, JB seemed pleased with the day's proceedings, despite having to undertake major household reconstruction procedures in the aftermath of the committee's hurricane visit.

A movie to see JB smile, anyone?

-Let well alone-

There are some times in a person's life when he's just gotta let it all go, to give it all up.
Tonight's one of those nights, kid. You've got to let it go. And now. Or I'll have to hit you with a baseball bat.

But it's difficult. And painful -- both giving that up and being hit by such a hard object.
Some dude said "sure hope that whatever's bothering u will get better". But that's the thing. It probably won't.
I thought it was all over and I wouldn't be affected. But tonight was cruel.

Well, so is being inflicted much pain. Would you rather that? Cos this baseball bat wasn't bought for baseball.
Look, I know it hurts and all that crap. But trees sprout everywhere, man. This is just one of those phases. You'll get over it with time. You did the last time, and see what you think of that one now.

I help everyone else all the time. But I can't help the person who most needs help. Me. And no one bothers trying to help me either. Insularity ought to be the key.

-Fanfare! Marching Band! Amazing Bearded Lady!-

And so it's happened. The seemingly impossible (and yet inevitable) has occurred, and I'm finally 20 years old.

It's a great place to be.
It's too old for Junior College shenanigans, yet not old enough to watch sordid movies (not legally, anyway)
It's too old to chill with the young and hip where everything's at, yet not old enough to be a man of the world.
It's too old to listen to the great contemporary works of such musical masters as Aaron Carter and Mandy Moore, yet not old or boring enough to pay attention to classical music.

Hmmm. It's not a great place to be. But hey, I'm not complaining. :)

This day also marks the one year anniversary of SDRR, which no one actually reads. Let's keep it that way.
What a difference a year makes, 365 little days.

-1/2 a day of teenage, 2 days of Melbourne-

Savouring my last 8 hours of teenage, my youth, my passport to behaving like an impetuous, puerile chimp with impunity.

Losing my teenage in a foreign land is like getting deflowered by a complete stranger. Right, disturbing analogy. Gotta act all mature now. What will I do.

Beauty queen of only eighteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else
I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times but somehow I want more
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved

Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I know I tend to get so insecure
It doesn't matter anymore
It's not always rainbows and butterflies
It's compromise that moves us along
My heart is full and my door's always open
You can come anytime you want
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
She will be loved

I know where you hide
Alone in your car
Know all of the things that make you who you are
I know that goodbye means nothing at all
Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls
Tap on my window knock on my door
I want to make you feel beautiful
I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved
And she will be loved[in the background]

Please don't try so hard to say goodbye

-World Tour 2004-

The much-vaunted Jonny Baby World Tour 2004 is coming to a head.
We chart out the route of his continent-hopping, which began in March this year.

Berlin, Dresden (Germany) -->
London (England) -->
Naples, Pompeii, Herculaneum, Capri, Amalfi Coast, Rome, Florence, Siena, Pisa, Milan, Como (Italy) -->

Singapore -->

Melbourne, Great Ocean Road, Yarra Valley, Mt Dandenong, Chadstone, Mornington Peninsula, Mt Macedon (Australia)

-toffee and molasses-

It's funny how things work out sometimes, and how some people prioritise. It seems that all it takes is some sort of distraction (mostly one that takes the shape of a human) and they're off like a jackrabbit in heat; years of friendship are foregone in the flutter of an eyelid or the flex of an arm.

I have a friend. Let's call her.... CT.
CT and I have been acquainted for a decade now. More than acquainted, in fact, from the many times we stayed over at our mutual friend's place and stayed up talking till the wee hours of the morning.
And yes, it has been a decade now. A decade of relatively close friendship, as compared to less than a year of courtship rituals and assorted activities I'm not particularly at liberty (or inclined) to reveal.
A year, because that's how long she's been with her latest fling, some kid from the land of the LOTR directors and plentiful cows. A year is all it's taken to make her so mature that she hasn't had the time of day to meet up with me all summer because she's too busy with her 'boy'(as is the -ugh- term of endearment du jour)

And this isn't endemic to just her. It's a show that's screened ever so often, with the leads being the newly attached, those folk who're so completely smitten by / enamoured with their newfound amors that they their eyes detect nothing and no one else.

It's just diabolical, the way some couples tend to stick together so much you start to suspect they're surgically attached. Lives were made seperate so they could be lived seperately. Bottom line? We've all got to walk our own paths, make our own decisions, play our own gigs. Couples really ought to be aware of that.