Christmas Cheer

Since Orchard Road's already decked out and just waiting for the light-up, here's something Christmas-related:

Life Is Like A Journey

You can walk, take the bus, drive your own car, or be chauffeured.

Walking gives you time to see the scenery, take small paths to strange and delightful nooks and crannies, and pause whenever you want to stay in a place a little longer.

It's doing your own thing at your own pace. I like walking.

Taking the bus means getting off only at designated stops. It means going on a fixed route, seeing the same things every day. You still get to see things as they change becuase you have yesterday's scenery to compare it with. But it's also reassuring and safe. You know the bus will always come. And that you will always get to where the bus route says you're going to.

It's getting married and buying a HDB flat and having kids and... It doesn't sound too bad.

Driving your own car makes it more difficult to see the scenery. You're limited to places that can accomodate your car. And preferably with suitable parking. You've got to watch out for other drivers (not all of whom are courteous or competent). You also have to feed it regularly, which makes it rather expensive, especially if you use high-octane unleaded (not that I do, the high-octane I mean).

It's living the good life and working damn hard for it and spending so much time at work that whatever time you get to chill is super-precious and just has to be filled with the most intense experience so you maximise the returns from your non-work time.

Being chauffeured around just means your parents damn rich. You should give your money to me.

Thick Skin

Several times in the past couple of weeks (and most recently on Sunday) I have had to tell people things that they have not been happy to hear. I am starting to understand why some bosses sound like bastards and why people complain about management not only not understanding their needs but also being complete assholes about it.

I really need to learn to manage people better.

Who Am I?

(long post warning)
I still haven't completed the 7 meme yet, but something else happened to stir up old memories and reawaken me to myself.

On Saturday morning, an accident happened at the junction of Ulu Pandan Road and Clementi Road. An automobilist was turning from the latter into the former and hit a cyclist rather hard. I know because I was listening to the radio in my car and heard a thud and thought "That's not part of the song." I also know because I saw a bit of bone sticking out from the cyclist's leg later as she was helped to the side of the road.

Me, I called the ambulance. Another guy moved the bicycle off the road so it wouldn't obstruct traffic. A few minutes later someone from the nearby Police camp came out with a First Aid Kit. So all was as well as it could be in the circumstances. Amazing how people just do things without being asked.

The title of this post is such because the last time I was this close to an accident I was on a bus and saw an injured motorcyclist by the side of the road. For some reason I immediately pressed the button to alight, got off at the next stop, and went over to see if I could help. I ended up helping to bandage the guy's head (yes he was bleeding quite badly) and getting my hands all bloody in the process. The ambulance came soon enough and they took him away. I hope he's still alive today.

So there I was with blood on my hands. It didn't occur to me to go to the nearby condo and ask to use the toilet. I think getting that close to an accident kinda stunned me for a bit. So I got on the next bus (trying not to get too much blood on my TransitLink card (yes it was that long ago)) and kinda held my hands away from everything and carried on to my friend's place (where I was going initially). It wasn't too messy because the blood was already drying, but I was trying very hard to look inconspicuous since I'd never had blood on my hands in public before.

Upon arrival at my friend's place I was greeted by another friend who gave me a hug but I couldn't reciprocate and just said, "I have blood on my hands." I hope I never have to say that again (except maybe in a play). Oh, and elbows are wonderful things if you know how to use them.

And all this got me wondering about why I stopped then, 13 years ago, (going out of my way) to help someone, and why I stopped on Saturday to help the cyclist, and where the hell I've been in between.

Plan Your Life On The Internet

I’ve been looking at properties with an eye to buying, and Streetdirectory.com has been an excellent tool. More than that, however, (and the reason for this post) is the fact that it allows you to plan a jogging route around your selected location. Imagine that – you could actually get directions on where and how to jog so you cover, say 2.4 km exactly (or as close as the map engine can figure it). And with all the internet services (e.g. grocery delivery, booking appointments and movies, etc.) one can actually plan an entire lifetime.

OK so I exaggerate, but still.

And somehow, something in life would go missing for all that convenience and efficiency. (spontaneity? whimsy? Je ne sais quois?) Plus we’d all be screwed if the power went out. Which is not that unlikely in today's screwed up world.

The Cubicle

I'm starting to think about clearing my desk at The Workplace for the last time in the next few years, and that got me thinking about Cubicles. Of all the whimsical thoughts that came out, here's the worst of the lot (I think).

Here’s a new idea for a reality show – we put some hapless and gullible contestants through a series of inane challenges which have little real output beyond satisfying the show’s requirements. The prize: a work cubicle with a window view (and potted plant for those exceeding expectations), a swanky title (Senior Head of Interactive Transactions) and a good old-fashioned pat on the back.

Season Two will feature even more mindless running around in circles, except the prize this time is exclusive rights to the participants’ choice of toilet cubicles (complete with air plant for a touch of freshness) and a whole month’s supply of toilet paper (cue “wows” and “oohs” and “aahs”).

Then again, it sounds too much like work.

Blogspam

This is really starting to get to me. These days the moment I post I get a message from total strangers who say nice things about my blog and then ask me to buy stuff. Is there any way I can blacklist these people?

I won't post any words not used in polite company here in case I get hauled up for sowing discord and inciting disorder, but I really don't give an equine posterior for such people. And odds are, they'll still say what a great post this was and would I please go to their website cos they've got a great deal waiting for me there. Yah, right.

Childhood and Identity

My parents and grandparents have always been fond of recounting how I was such a well-behaved child because I was quite happy to play on my own, and I never quite appreciated how much it meant to them until my mom developed her condition.

In many ways she is the quintessential child - hungry for attention, attentive to tone and nuance much more than logic and reason, disobedient, wilful, fond of sweets, easily amused, and happiest when her family members play with her.

Strip a human being of all his upbringing, his socialising, his learned responses to situations, and you have the child. And that child remains with us throughout our lives - that child is who we really are beneath the layers of conditioning and norming. And that same child is loved by God and loves Him in return, in the same way I see my mom try her best (in her limited capacity) to offer her help to us, and happily asks us to take her to her favourite eating place for her favourite food with the full expectation that her request will be acceded to. Ask, and it shall be given unto you.

And some days, when I look at her, I wonder if she is not better off in this state, where she is happy and carefree, rather than worrying constantly about the smallest of things as she was wont to do. Indeed, Matthew 18:3 makes a whole lot more sense in the light of Matthew 6:25-34. If all that is true and consistent then she is well prepared to enter the Kingdom of God.

Of course the Bible could be bogus, but then I would at least admire the supernaturally keen perception of the human condition that the writers have displayed.

It's a pity people don't spend that much time with their children nowadays. They could learn so much from them.

And yes there are plenty of gaps in the expressed train of thought here but I'm not externalising enough to fill them in. See my blog subtitle.

Missing Reading

Eothen's message today asking if I had a contribution to make to QLRS made me realise that I haven't been reading since June. And that I miss reading a lot.

It's not the paucity of good books to read. I just haven't felt relaxed enough to pick up a book and let its ideas swish around my mind like cognac in a glass. So reading has become a luxury I haven't indulged in for a while. And the scariest thing is that I was starting to not miss it.

So thanks for the reminder, eothen. I'm sorry I haven't got anything for you this time, but I will once I start looking at my books again, which will hopefully be soon.

7meme delay

I was tagged some time back. Still haven't completed it yet. So much for getting me to post more often, Terz.

Ways To Love Thy Neighbour

1. Feed him, clothe him, comfort him.

2. Show him where he can get food, clothes, and warmth. Take him there if necessary.

3. Teach him to create food, clothes, and warmth for himself.

4. Organise people and build a distribution centre for food, clothes, and warmth so that people trying to do (2) will know where to go.

5. Create so much food, clothes, and warmth yourself that you can donate a lot of it to the people trying to do (4).

6. Build and run a school to facilitate (3).

Feel free to add to the list.

Inspired by despair at students' lack of displayed ability.
You can only do (3) for some people and then get a few of them to go on and do (5). Also limited are people who can do (4).
So that leaves (1) and (2) for the majority of people in this world.

Alternative title for this post:
What is expected of those to whom much is given.

WASSUP

So, taking a break from marking, thoughts turn to my disused blog, and all the thoughts that ought to have gone on it but haven't.

Here's today's first.

I've been running away from Organised Religion since my last major involvement with it - an acting part in an outreach musical. There's something that feels wrong about the whole thing - like a closed-minded community similar to the one GWB lives in.

Then it struck me today. It's the whole self-righteous "we are good people" vibes I get from some of them.

We're _not_ good people. We're screwed up people. That's why we got religion in the first place - to unscrew ourselves. Trouble is, some people get so uptight you'd think religion was actually screwing them up some more.

So I'm thinking the Church should go on a new outreach campaign titled WASSUP, for We Are Such Screwed Up People. That will definitely help it to empathise with all the sinners it's trying to reach, and then some.

The old idea of sinners just excludes too many people from the net. Sinners go whoring, do drugs, steal, cheat, rob, bully, and put naked pictures of themselves on the net. There are tons of people who don't do any of those things and are still screwed up. And they need unscrewing. Which is where religion steps in. Sure it's more expensive than a shrink (try paying your shrink ten percent of your income) but you get a whole network of counsellors and support people in the bargain. And the best part is, they'll so totally understand because they're screwed up people like yourself.

I think my screws are coming looser.

Recovery

So it's been over a month.

It's been a good month. Better than most of the ones I can remember in a while. I got to do the stuff I really like - walking in the woods (temperate forest without too much undergrowth, not like the cancerous tropical jungle we have in Singapore), breathing in cool mountain air, seeing life from a step back, reading, thinking.

Sometimes it gets too much in the trenches. Too many lives clamouring to be attended to; too many things I could have done better because hey, it just might make a difference in that kid's life. And sometimes I wonder who's going to make the difference in mine. I wonder when it's my turn to receive some kindness and patience and encouragement.

I get it from an old lady who speaks barely a word of English, who lives in the mountains tending the household while her farmer husband goes out to work the fields and feed the fish. It comes in the form of a cheap plastic umbrella which costs a fraction of what I'm paying her for room and board. It means a lot because it was raining and she could just about make out that I was going on a hike without an umbrella. (Hey, I did think it was the start of summer already in Japan.)

This is why I go on holiday. To see humanity as a guest. In Singapore I am always the host. In school I am The Surrogate for whatever the people around me aren't getting, whether it's students who need (parental) guidance or Worry Women who just need someone to listen to them. Maybe this is why we all go on holiday.

Anyway I am recharged. I have had my fill of Alonetime, and am now ready to face the world with a smile again. And while I do look forward to the next long period of Alonetime, I am also keen to engage in the affairs of Man once more.

For more information on the concept of Alonetime and introversion in general, please do the web-literate thing and search. For Introverts and Introversion. "Alonetime" will also yield some interesting results. The old term is "Solitude", which has the right connotations as well, but "Alonetime" is a more modern term, an updated version, if you like. And I was using it before I discovered its existence in other texts.

Yes I am geeking out on words. C'est moi. Or as my dear friend TYM just said today while I was wondering why pincers were not called pinchers, "That's why you were a gifted kid."

The solitude I get on my solo holidays is breathtaking, far more than the scenery. And in that solitude I rediscover myself - who I am, what I believe, where I am going. Though I feel time slipping away more acutely these days, I also feel a sense of purpose yet to be accomplished. My time has not yet come. And I will know it when it does.

It is well with my soul. Blessings to all who have stood by me (or just stood by) these past months. I know what I need to recover well enough. And I am back.

Value-Unladen Statements

I've been accused of making too many plain statements before - just statements of fact without any attachment of the personal value I place on them. I don't know if that's such a bad thing. Of course some people want to know why it's important enough to me to notice it. But for me it is often just a piece of information that is merely awaiting connection to the rest of the sea of bits of information floating around in my head. So at the moment of utterance, it is in a sort of holding area, a waiting lounge, while the immigration officers deal with the other potentail entrants (or just go off for a HKB*). Or sometimes it is already connected but to go over the connections would be very tedious for me.

So my value-unladen statement today is:
I have just visited http://www.clinical-depression.co.uk/


*hoong kee break - otherwise commonly known as a smoke or cigarette break.

How To Get Out Of Holes

I'm thinking of the idea of being stuck in a hole, and how to get out of it. Now if this happened in a MOHAA session jumping around should do the trick. Things get trickier if it's IRL, or if it's a depression of the psychological kind.

Which reminds me of a story I read way back in Primary School. There was a man who had a feud with a tigress (the Chinese had plenty of such human-animal interaction stories) and one day he managed to trap the tigress' cubs in a pit. The tigress was in despair until the man suggested in fake good-naturedness that she should throw rocks into the pit so that the cubs could climb out. Of course by the time there were enough rocks in the pit the cubs had been stoned to death.

This is the other side of the motivational tale of the donkey who was in a similar situation who was pelted with mud/earth/soil. According to the tale, the donkey "shook it off and stepped up" every time something was flung at it, and eventually it climbed out of the hole it was in. Moral: every time you get criticised, "shake it off and step up" and you'll become a better person and get ahead in life.

Yeah right. I think that story is just telling you that if you're an ass in a hole the shit that others throw at you is a good thing.

It's about time I learnt from the Great Leaders of my country and starting throwing grenades at people who throw stones at me. Them people didn't get ahead by shaking things off. They got ahead by getting even, and more. Look at what they did to that SIA pilot some time back.

Anyway, back to my original train of thought. What do people do when they're in a hole? You could try to dig yourself out, but that would run the risk of the hole collapsing in on you and burying you alive. You could shout for help, and pray that you have more friends than enemies. And if your friends do turn up, you have to pray that they're smart enough to throw you a rope rather than earth or worse, stones. Of course if they're too poor to buy a rope and too dimwitted to improvise one then you're pretty much screwed.

So if you're ever in a hole it pays to have rich and smart friends. Which means you don't really need to be clever yourself.

Yes I am in a depression. It's the job. Among other things.

My writing can be so bad sometimes.

The Lure of Self-Employment

... is starting to grow on me. It's time I did something really worthwhile with my life.

But first I have to do my marking.

Yikes I've Been Griping

The last two posts have been very gripey, so I shall try to write something upbeat, or at the very least, offbeat.

I saw on TV last night a Japanese programme which shows different facets of Japan and the Japanese are really quite innovative. There's this guy who lives in a really small apartment but through clever use of materials and vertical space the place looks and feels bigger than it actually is. And it's not a designer pad - it's just some guy doing the best with what he's got. Then there was this other guy who liked reading in the bathtub so much he designed a floating platform with built-in page-turners to hold his books and magazines. And the materials used were simple everyday stuff you could get at the local hardware store.

It's really inspiring to see people doing their own little things to improve their lives.

People Management

Teachers don't get enough credit for their people management skills.

I witnessed yesterday a pretty good performance by my Level Head trying to quash some misunderstandings and unpleasant rumours about the recent redeployment of teachers. The short of it is some students were unhappy about the change in teachers and the rationale for the change didn't get through to them because some colleagues were rather disgruntled themselves. So my LH tactfully raises the issue and then reiterates the rationale clearly and firmly thus sending a strong signal without blaming anyone in particular for the student unrest (they know who they are after all). And that's how teams ought to work. And the relevant people ought to get the message and shape up. And that's something they don't teach in class, and isn't on one's resume, and yet is so damn important.

Me, I've had to deal with a kid who's a chronic complainer and too hotheaded for his own good. First I have to resist the urge to smack him so he'll listen to reason. Then I have to struggle to keep him on the same point because every time I open my mouth he finds a new grievance to complain about (or repeats an old one). And then I have to repeat myself over and over again so that it will get past his self-constructed cloud of self-pitying, rage-against-the-world angst and finally get him to be aware that most people do not take kindly to his way of communicating and if he wants other people to be nicer to him and not bother him HE needs to change.

Why am I expending my energies on this kid? Why not leave him to learn the hard way by getting rejected and beaten up by everyone he meets? Because I don't think he's smart enough to learn from that. He's just going to get angrier and end up killing someone. And that would be a waste of an innocent life.

And it counts for so little in my Work Review. I'm a teacher, dammit. It's an unspoken part of my job to deal with kids like that. And the time I spend counselling that idiot counts against the 42 hours which my VP says should be enough for teachers to prepare lessons and go to class and do all the necessary marking and oversee a CCA and keep good records and pass notes and forms to their civics/form classes like demented messenger pigeons, not to mention reflecting on my own pedagogy and mentoring the newer teachers. And of course remedial is entirely optional and not giving remedial won't be held against me even if my students fail so 42 hours is all the time I need to spend at work. Yeah, Right.

Worry Women

In the past two days I have had to reassure two older colleagues that they are really all right and that while they may not be good at some things, nobody's perfect and they have their own strengths if only they can see them so don't sweat the weaknesses. And still they worry what others think of them, and what will happen if they make another mistake, and other people look down on them, and...

Why are they like that? Is it just older women? And why am I the one who has to deal with them? Don't they have husbands? Friends? Older and Wiser People around them who've Been There and Done That? Or maybe they do but they STILL want MORE reassurance and try to suck it up from whatever source they can. Bloody leeches. I've got enough to worry about already without having to deal with worriers. And yet the Good Person in me will take time out to talk to them. And they go away feeling better and I feel rotten because I hatehatehate it when I don't get enough "alonetime". I had better get a damn good seat in heaven because it would be so not worth it otherwise.

I am on the verge of being absolutely nasty and telling them that yeah they're crap and that's life so go away and stop bothering me. Nobody else seems to care about them anyway. It's just that every time I think I'm going to do something like that there's always this little blurb flashing across the viewscreen of my brain saying "You were not put here to do that" or something to that effect. And try as I might the Good Person just won't stay down long enough for me to actually do something nasty.

It's just as well I have D&D and MOHAA often enough.

Misanthropy

I am currently suffering from a bout of misanthropy which I hope will clear up within the week. Among the triggering conditions are:

1. Stupid students. They will sit in a room with the airconditioner off and not think to a) look for the missing remote control, b) go to the general office where there is most likely to be a spare remote, or c) open the windows. This will last until the teacher enters the classroom and complains about the stifling heat and stale air (which they all nod in agreement to).

2. Inconsiderate drivers. They do not signal when changing lanes, forcing me to brake for them. They do not signal before turning, causing me to pull up behind them and have to wait. They travel at 70km/h in the rightmost lane of the expressway when the speed limit is 90, and everyone else is overtaking them on the left. Especially those who are a combination of the above, where they suddenly and without signalling cut into your lane, the rightmost one on the expressway, and then proceed slowly with a clear stretch of road in front of them for several hundred metres.

2b. Drivers who do illegal things like stop inside a yellow box when it is OBVIOUS that there is NO SPACE just beyond it because the car in front IS ALREADY JUTTING OUT SLIGHTLY INTO THE BOX WHILE STATIONARY. I am thinking of carrying stones in my car to throw at such people. And no I have not been guilty of that particular crime. Yet.

3. Lack of intellectual stimulation. I have not had anything grab my imagination and fancy in a while. I have not had the chance to play with ideas. I have had to come up with ideas on how to make someone else's vision a reality. It is not my vision and while I may have had similar thoughts had I stopped to consider it, I have not had the time to think in that direction. Therefore I do not own it and have no stake in it. I do it because I do not feel in a position to refuse it.

4. Teaching. They are not my children, and if they don't want to turn up on time in school it's not my problem. I shouldn't have to coax and cajole and talk sense into them so they learn the virtue of being punctual (at least for formal and official occasions). I shouldn't even have to scold them. But I do anyway, because I'm a teacher, and teachers are supposed to care, and because their parents don't do it. It sucks to be a teacher and have to care. Everywhere else you can screw people over and nobody in upper management gives a shit as long as it's not your own company you're screwing. At least that's what I think.

Why I Am Hopeful Of Recovering

1. I have had a few good games of chess in school and on the internet in the past month.

2. I have friends who still invite me to join them for stuff, though in my current state I doubt I'm very good company (which makes me appreciate them all the more).

3. I am aware of the condition and am able to will myself to recover.

But first I need to get the hate out of my system.

Where is the love?

Blankolog II - Tired

Tired of last-minute assignments. Tired of doing them well because it would mean so much to the students. Tired of putting aside an already full schedule because the boss's latest scheme is so urgent. Tired of trying to catch up after that.

Too tired to talk. Too tired to flirt. Too tired to say nice things to people at home. Too tired to smile at things people say. Too tired to make the calls I promised to. Too tired to return SMSes from ex-students.

Almost too tired to arrange for treat for grandma. Almost too tired to drive home (though I think I might have damaged my first gear slightly). Almost too tired to eat.
Almost too tired to blog.

Urrrgh.

Brightside: sis just gave me The Remains Of The Day. I am enjoying it. It is taking me far longer than usual to read it though.

Gollum Meat

I just caught The Two Towers on TV tonight and noticed the Chinese subtitles.

Gollum's name in Chinese is comprised of the same characters used to describe Sweet Sour Pork, minus the word for "meat".

I don't think I can bring myself to eat Gollum Meat for a while.

Between the Legs

Four times today, a soccer ball went between my legs.

First, a flick-through from a pass. I found my team-mate.

Second, a dummy. Same team-mate.

Third, a step-over backheel into goal during a goalmouth melee. *Goal of the week*

Fourth, a complete miscue from a pass. Under no pressure at all.

Ah, well, three out of four ain't too bad. (Note to self: possible inclusion in future book of musings on life - maybe something about being happier if we don't let the disappointments get in the way.)

I am feeling so stylo today. (Note to self: What does it take to feel stylo?)
(Another note to self: I am feeling so stylo today.)

No apologies to the soccer-illiterate.
p.s. I usually prefer the Coxford Singlish Dictionary but it didn't have the separate meaning for "stylo".

Satchmo Monday

Louis Armstrong's "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" has been runnning through my head all day, which compensates somewhat for the Bleah feeling towards work I've had throughout the past week. I really like the music of that era - it's full of life, in every sense of the word ("life", that is). Much needed when the spirit feels dead at the prospect of going back to the classroom for yet another dialogue with myself (though I must say my students are getting slightly better at responding).

Had a "passionate discussion" with a colleague over the fragmentation of the English Literary Dramatic and Debating Society (or ELDDS) into the Drama people, the Debate people, and the Radio people (who have been absorbed into the ELDDS because there's no "Radio" on the Grand Imperial Charter of Healthy Recreations and Cultural Accomplishments (otherwise known as the List of Approved CCAs)). Not that I'm still in the EngSoc (as the ELDDS used to be called, not without a hint of irony at the Orwellian reference), but I got a bit riled at the hint of accusation that the Debate people were deliberately distancing themselves from the rest of the ELDDS when it was the Drama people who didn't answer my call last year when I was trying to put together a debate team from the EngSoc, and that was after I had so kindly delayed putting the debate team together so they could all concentrate on their SYF Drama production. So bollocks to them if they feel left out now that the JC1s are choosing Debates over Drama. And good grief I just realised what a long sentence that was. Microsoft Word would have _so_ complained :P

But anyway much thanks for the music of the early 20th century. And hopefully much rest from tonight's sleep. I may not look forward to school tomorrow, but at least I'll have Satchmo and company for company.

Joy

I can think of no other word to describe two grandmothers well into their eighties who still take every chance to smile and laugh at the world around them. Every little action, every story, is a source of mirth and merriment, and the springboard for jokes and teasing. Their bodies may be old and wrinkled, but their sprightliness of spirit in old age is something I would wish on everyone twice over.

May you all have a blessed Lunar New Year.

Blankolog I

It has been the hardest thing to blog for a while. Granted, I have been tired, and it has been a damn tiring week, but still, I go blank when I sit in front of my blank Blogger page. Even writing this is seeming strangely inane, and the only thing keeping me going is the exhortations of my friends to update.

So here I am, with the first of my Blankologs, because I anticipate more in future, when I sit here with all the thoughts of the previous days scurrying away into the recesses of my mind, refusing to come out to be named and numbered and witnessed to the world.

Ah, here comes one, screaming as I drag it out. It is a rant about drivers who don't signal, who road-hog, who behave as if no one else exists on the road but them. They are the scourge of modernity and efficiency, and it is a good thing that weapons are not allowed on cars. I would be broke from buying ammo reloads.

I have had my patience sorely tested on the roads. The worst of humanity is seen each time - the driver who slowly (in every sense of the word) inches his way across lanes making me wonder which side to overtake him on shows an obliviousness to others; the driver who refuses to take the next turnoff even though he is in the wrong lane and insists on blocking my way by attempting to turn left in a straight-going lane shows the refusal to accept the consequences of his own mistakes (and I don't care if the semicolons aren't appropriate - it's my blog); the driver who weaves in and out of traffic without signalling shows a recklessness that endangers others.

And then I curse their teachers and parents silently.

But just as the sting of a bee tears the life out of it, so has this torn the remnants of my willingness to connect with others out of me.

I now retreat into my cave.

I shall return.

Good From Far

G just came back from his honeymoon recently, and complained about how one of the tour guides brought them to one of the filming sites for LOTR (Edoras, for those who know), with the effect that while he was ON the site, he couldn't SEE the site (and take the requisite pictures).

Link now to the Viaduc de Millau, which is banking on exactly the same feeling of "I want to be in a position where I can see the sight rather than be on the site itself".

And that's something about monuments and great feats of engineering and other marvels to behold from a distance - they work best at a distance. With our increasing ability to build tourist facilities just about anywhere in the world, we now have two options for every grand tourist attraction - one for those interested in the intricate details of how it was put together - and another to admire it from afar.

Maybe we should consider getting the Malaysians to build Something Grand and Monumental in Johor Bahru. To be precise, Something So Grand And Monumental That It Looks Amazing From Woodlands (or some other northern part of Singapore, like maybe Punggol). That way we can position ourselves as The Place From Which You Can View A Wonder Of The World, which is not quite as hard as being A Wonder Of The World ourselves, and would certainly breathe a bit more life into the more remote parts of the island. We could even build a Magnificent Lighthouse off our coast as well, if the Malaysians don't take too kindly to the idea.

All this would certainly be an added incentive to visit the Casino that looks more and more like reality with each new report in The Straits Times, regardless of what concerned citizens might think.