The Manliest Thing I Did Over The Weekend

Ok, so it isn’t a new kitchen, but there were some big screws involved…

Yes, yes, I know. I’m into heavy carpentry AND I watch manly sports like football.

 

New Surroundings

For those who possess a natural curiosity for the tamed lives of civil servants in the media industry, particularly those involved in our fledgling local animation scene, they might have heard that I’ve recently gone to the dark side…or the light side, depending on how you look at it. I’m not quite sure myself.

Basically, I’ve swapped a cushy government job for a paycheck that’s struggling for air to do what I love – working in a real animation company. Bite me.

I’ll fill in more on the day-to-day of the new job in the coming weeks and months. What struck me from day 1 and something I’m still intently observing is the dichotomy between my old and new surroundings.

I’m talking about switching from the modern, pristine I.T. sanctuary that is Funan Mall to the Mos Eisley of all things electronics, the infamously famous Sim Lim Square.

To say these are two different worlds would not be an understatement, the products on their store shelves not withstanding.

In Funan, laptops and LCD monitors sit proudly behind the safety of intricate window displays, like models basking in glamour, while the same products are laid out on cheap tabletops at SLS, naked and exposed to the frivolous fancy of customers trying to kop a feel.

While foreigners in Funan stroll casually along the aisles of I.T. shops with lighting so bright it’ll pierce your eyes, they look infinitely more lost in SLS, navigating through the galaxy of characters and shops that sprawl the six floors and the back alleys, some of which feel like graveyards for hardware.

There are no fancy cafes and restaurants, Danish ice cream stalls, trendy hair salons or supermarkets in SLS (unlike in Funan), and people tend to sneeze in your face. Chinese ladies selling learning software give me funny looks sometimes and I have to be careful of paper cuts from flyers being shoved in my face whenever I’m near an elevator.

But I’m warming up to SLS I must say, and that’s down to one thing – its food court. Compared to the sanitized, bland and tasteless fare of Funan’s food court, SLS’ is a godsend, the kind of hearty fare that’s good for the soul (maybe not so good for the cholesterol level).

And anyone living in Singapore will know – if you find a great food court, everything else around it is secondary.

 

Thank You & Farewell

For the second time in my life, I found myself writing a resignation letter.

Actually, it’s already written and handed in to my boss, who was informed of my intention almost 4 months ago.

In many ways, MDA is a hard place to leave. I’ve got the best boss one could ask for, great colleagues, more than decent career prospects, a salary that takes care of me fairly well, and opportunities to make a difference to an industry I care deeply about. For that it’s bound to suprise a few people when I get those farewell emails out. But my closest friends know why I’m doing this.

I can’t quite remember what went through my mind the first time I resign from a full-time job. That was 4 years ago, in a place that was totally wrong for me and doing a job that was killing my soul. What still shocks me is how long it took for me to get the hell out of there.

I’m not saying it’s a terrible place to work at – it can’t be, being one of the top companies in Singapore. But it was the wrong place for me. I suppose an important part of anyone’s first real job (that people forget easily) is to determine if this is truly what you want to do – and if not, then what is?

The lucky ones eventually find an answer, or at least what they think is the answer – but that’s ok. You may not know what your eventual calling is, but at least know what you would like to do now that could make you happy or fulfill what you believe your potential is.

Still don’t know what you want to do? Then think about what you’re good at, because you’ll probably enjoy doing it and importantly, be better at it then most people.

Don’t know what you’re good at? Can’t help you there. You’re going to have to work that out yourself. The only truth is that everyone’s good at something. Again, the fortunate ones might know their calling all their lives, while others will take time to figure it out. The important thing is you keep working at it and not stay stagnant.

Of course, if your job is a pain in the ass that is killing every fibre of passion in your heart BUT pays for the swanky new condo and the European holidays, that’s a different story.

Nothing wrong with chasing the dollar in life – it could well allow you to fulfill your dreams later on (or even now). Just know what you want and if it comes down to a decision, dammit MAKE IT.

I did and I now venture into a new career flowing with uncertainty, daunting challenges and unfamiliar game rules – topped up with a sizable pay cut. And I can’t wait to get started.

This blog is so preachy. I hate preachy blogs.

 

NYE

New Year’s Eve.

That one day in the year when it feels, more than any other, like just another day.

It does – for me at least. No deep reflection, no brainstorming of New Year resolutions, no profound epiphanies, and certainly no regrets – not more than any of the past 364 days anyway.

I’m at least thankful that it’s a beautiful day, this 31st day of December 2007. Sunny enough for me to spend a lazy hour by the pool, 40 minutes in the gym (not that the weather matters much here, although I swear the weights feel heavier when it rains outside), and just cloudy and cool enough for me to hang at my favourite Thomson Plaza alfresco Starbucks for a couple of wasteful hours as I write this closing entry for the year.

And I’m pretty sure tomorrow will be the same as today – I’ll be doing things that should have been done yesterday; making plans that always seem too far ahead to plan properly for; trying to give the day more focus only to realise that in my trying the day has quietly sneaked away.

Tomorrow my room will still be work-in-progress after a year of organising; my old guitar at the corner will still appear brand new even though the strings are now covered by a layer of bronze dust; and my 7 year-old cat will still look ageless even as she sleeps far longer then ever before.

What will be different tomorrow, if I party right tonight, is that I’d be much more chemically imbalanced than today.

Happy New Year.

 

Tonsil Talk Part 2

SO – if things had gone according to the design of my ENT specialist Dr Tan, I should be lying in a SGH hospital bed right now with my throat feeling like a nuclear bomb just went off in it.

Yet here I am sitting in my room, typing away while Marty McFly zaps back and forth in time on HBO in the background.

Yup, no tonsillectomy. Decided to leave the little buggers alone after much thinking and talking to people over the last couple of weeks.

One of them was Dr Chua the GP (yes, I went to a GP for a second opinion on an ENT specialist’s diagnosis) who has an infectious (pun unintended) way of comparing specialist surgeons to home contractors:

“You go to a contractor, of course he’ll ask you to tear down that wall in your  house! You go to a surgeon, OF COURSE he’ll ask you to go for surgery!!”

I’m not sure if they offer drama minors in med school, but at times he struck genuine
fear into me:

“What if you never woke up from the general anesthesia? What if the surgeon accidentally cuts your vocal chord??”

I pictured Dr Tan choking Dr Chua to death with his specialist-issued, hi-tech tongue depressor if he heard this.

Now I’m neither cynical enough to think that surgeons like Dr Tan will want to cut up my
throat for a quick buck nor paranoid enough to worry that he will sneeze during the op
and unwittingly sever my vocal chord.

At the same time, you can’t deny that surgeons have vested interest (and understandably so) in these situations, especially when it comes to such a common procedure which is performed thousands of times each year in Singapore.

In the end, what made me decide to call it off is a recently renewed resolution to get in
shape. If eating healthy (I feel strangely closer to cows now), regular exercise (running at
night during the seventh month) and more sleep (my favourite new ‘regime’) are not enough to keep the tonsils from throwing week long bacteria orgies, we’ll review the situation again.

So for now my tonsils are happy, having escaped certain death. We’re not quite
best friends yet, but I’m willing to work on it if they behave.

 

Tonsil Talk

Keeping with the health & medical theme over the last couple of weeks, I have strong reason to believe my tonsils are from hell.

I don’t usually make such ludicrous statements, but it’s felt like that for the past week. It’s come to a point I need to be sending in demolition-grade antibiotics to have a chance – and of course in time those suckers are going to blow up the rest of my body along with the tonsils.

So yesterday I popped by SGH to see a specialist. I’m hoping the tonsils take this as a signal that I’m willing to consider lethal action. Enough is enough.  

If there ever was a waiting game SGH would surely get a podium finish, minimum.

My appointment was 10.30am. I arrived at 11 – it was pouring. Plus you would sooner find a bacteria hiding inside my tonsillar tissue than a parking lot at SGH.

Got my queue number at 11.45 am.

At 2pm, my number flashed on the wall. After two hours fifteen minutes of waiting, it felt like my life ambitions were achieved.

Dr Tan spent 10 minutes with me, employing a visibly more hi-tech tongue depressor than the naked ice cream sticks you get at the usual clinics. I was then set up for a ‘scope’.

Two more hours of waiting.

The ‘Scope’ (for nasopharyngoscope, as I found out) is ready to take its victim. This intrusive little bugger is, according to medilexicon.com, “a telescopic instrument, electrically lighted, for examination of the nasal passages and the nasopharynx.”

Basically, it’s the War of the Worlds Martian probe having a workout inside my nose and throat.

Then comes the diagnosis – I have chronic tonsillitis. No surprise there really. I have not been friendly with my tonsils for years, ever since they started tearing up throat every so often.

Dr Tan recommended – and I really hope the tonsils heard this loud and clear – tonsillectomy. Below is the actual conversation I had with the doc:

Dr Tan: Antibiotics kill germs. But it’s poison to you. It’s POISON.

Ervin: Are there any downsides to removing my tonsils?

Dr Tan: Downside? You mean…disadvantage?

Ervin: Yes…

Dr Tan: Tonsils produce antibodies. It’s supposed to be your friend. But now, it’s your enemy. Your ENEMY.

Must. Destroy. Enemy.

And so my operation date was set two weeks from now. All that remains is for me to do the pre-admission blood test, and I’m all ready to be laid out on the butcher table. It’s a little unnerving I must say. A week ago it was just another sore throat.  Now I’m about to take my first general anesthetic in 20 years.

I look forward to seeing how my tonsils plan to talk me out of this.

 

Health Screen Results

I’ve got a LDL-cholesterol level of 184.

Here’s the lowdown on cholesterol, LDL (aka ‘Bad’ cholesterol) levels:

< 100        - Life is good
   100-129  – Doin’ OK
   130-159  – Living dangerously
   160-189  – On a death wish
> 190        - You’re dead, fool

(The above descriptions have been dramatised for effect. Of course it wasn’t written that way in the report.)

SO – at this rate it would seem I’m chasing a date with the twin sisters known as heart attack and stroke. I’m told those hotties can knock you up real good, AND they are willing to take turns.

Man, was I shocked at the results. My BMI is 20.7 for freak’s sake! Ok, so you can be a skinny ass and still drop dead from a jammed artery. Life is funny like that I guess.

Honestly, I’m still bordering on disbelief (it’s been 4 days since I got the report) and even entertaining the absurd possibility that the hospital mixed up my blood sample with someone else’s. Talk about being in denial.

Here’s the basic deal to save my pitiless life:

- No fried food
- Less red meat
- No seafood with shells (bad news for fish)
- No commercially-made cakes and pastries (if it’s for sale, I can’t eat it)
- 2.5 hours per week of ‘fairly intense exercise of aerobic nature’ (that means it only counts if I sweat like a pig. Incidentally, pigs do not sweat – that’s a fact. Well, they kind of do when they are roasted over a fire, although that’s really just fat dripping off)

At least chicken is ok. I need my chicken rice. Will have to leave the skin behind though, which is almost sacrilegious. I’m Hainanese, for crying out loud.

3 months of the above regime, then it’s another cholesterol test. If results are not better, it’s medication – possibly for life (that’s when shit gets serious). That’d also mean my high LDL is probably genetic.

All in all, I’d say this whole health screening thing has been an illuminating (and at times invasive – see postscript) experience. Puts certain things into perspective and just maybe sparked off a renewed resolution to keep fit. Let’s see how long it lasts…

P.S: I almost wish the rectal examination had thrown up something. At least it would have been worth the (scarring) experience.