Welcome back...

It has been more than a year since my last blog entry, and I guess my readership has dwindled from the few (of whom I really appreciate) to what I'll suspect to be a few random souls who happen to chance upon my blog. Given that it hasn't been updated regularly, that would be more than I deserve. Then again, since I believe that there are no more readers for my blog, I would be open to share my thoughts as well as secrets.

This begs the question: why am I blogging again then? I guess it must be the excruciating boredom that comes with 3 months worth of holidays and the fact that I do no have any work to occupy my time. As I always say, slacking is only fun when there is actual work to do. When there is nothing to do however, slacking is just way too boring for me. As a matter of fact, I am actually looking forward to the start of the new semester: all the old and new faces, the endless hours spent mugging, the overbearing sense of dread before the exams and checking out all the pretty ladies... ;)

Talking about checking out the ladies, I fear that this would all I be doing... checking them out. Nothing more than that. No relationship beyond casual friends. Given that this has been happening all the while, I wouldn't be the least surprised that such a state of affairs would continue. Do I want to do something about it? Of course I do. That said, some things are better left to fate, even though till this very day fate has yet to truly smile upon me. I can honestly say that I did try to do something to change my situation, though sadly nothing has come out of it. Therefore do pardon the somewhat fatalistic outlook on my part.

Honestly, I have yet to have a single girlfriend in my life. Does this cast a negative light upon myself? I believe it does. First, why would anyone want someone who has yet to have a girlfriend at the ripe old age of 22? Surely there must be something wrong with the person that no girl would fall for him. Second, any approach made to girls would somehow seem to suggest that the person is trying to score. Which all link to the last and most serious problem, which is the attachment of the term "Despo" to the person.

Not that this comes with very negative implications. In the world of relationships, however, it is a death knelt to any realistic hope of the person ever getting a girlfriend. Guys would empathise, girls would sympathise, but tragically none of the latter would never approach one as a potential boyfriend. The potential negative social connotations serve as an artificial barrier. This may not be entirely true, but this is usually when the girl is not aware of the label that has been attached to the guy. Well, what they don't know can't hurt them.

This explains the phenomenon of Despos trying to know more girls. It is highly likely that the person's reputation would precede him, leading to a vicious cycle that would only mean a lonely existence for that poor male specimen until he is able to move beyond this label by either being ridiculously successful, getting a girl who didn't know or didn't care (good catch, this girl would be), or as a last resort getting a mail order bride.

Thankfully, this label has not yet been attached to me (that I know of). Unfortunately, an equally dubious label may be attached to me: the nice guy. Think I'll talk about this sub-species of the male population in a letter entry. Believe me though, it is equally, if not more, tragic than that of the Despo.

Quote of the day

"No matter how lonely you get or how many birth announcements you receive, the trick is not to get frightened. There's nothing wrong with being alone."

- Wendy Wasserstein, Isn't It Romantic, 1983

Hope, and then the Despair

It must have been only the second post of the year, with me getting ever more lazy about writing in this blog. Maybe it is because the baseball season was off... but now since the season has already begun I guess I'm back in business again. Lest the lazy bug get me.

Ah the baseball season... everyone starts with a clean slate, everyone still has a chance to make it to the baseball playoffs. However the truth is that the baseball season is already about two week old and already I am despairing over my teams chances. You see the team I am an ardent fan of, the Arizona Diamondbacks has just gone through a 3 game losing streak. In the greater scheme of things, it is no big deal since baseball has a 162 game season. However, the heartbreak now is still very much fresh in my mind ( or is that the heart?), especially after following the latest game against the San Francisco Giants through the net.

The first 3 innings, to put it mildly was ugly for my team. There were fielding errors, baserunning errors and even errors letting your teammate steal a base. I was just following the game through words, and even then i could barely watch. Before I knew it my team was alrady 7 runs down with me totally ready to write off this game. But the baseball gods have a funny way with people: they give you hope. At first we score a few runs in the fourth inning, and 3 innings later we actually went up 9 - 7. Could this be the baseball gods finally smiling on the team? Of course not.

You see after giving you hope of a major comeback, hope of a game for the ages, hope that finally the losing streak is snapped with a morale boosting victory over the divisional rivals, they come right back and take it back. Just like that. To make it worst, it was a former member of the team who hit the winning run against our bullpen ace, further rubbing it in.

Truth be told, I was ok with losing. I just was not ok with being on the cusp of a victory only for it to slip through the fingers, snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. An emotional roller coaster. The hope, and then the despair.

I think many people feel the same thing before. Having hope was plesant, having your hope raised all the way to the heavens but then letting it plummet down to earth is devastaing. We feel this pleasant resignition when we hope against all odds, but when the odds are in your favour and hope almost becomes reality it is a whole lot more emotionally draining. I can see one being thankful for the hope but not the emotional wreakage after such an event.

We see many such parallels in life, such as thinking you almost had the girl of your dreams only for her to tell you she already has a boyfriend; seeing no points on your traffic police test but get a immediate failure at the end; thinking there is no way you are not getting an A for the exam only realised you failed. We are experienced in this type of dissapointment, but like getting kicked in the privates it hurts every single time no matter the prior experience.

Shit happens. Live with it.

Quote of the day

"Appetite, with an opinion of attaining, is called hope; the same, without such opinion, despair."

-Thomas Hobbes
English political philosopher (1588 - 1679)

Nicely done in...

I love being referred to as a nice guy. I mean who wouldn't? Nobody seems to dislike you, you do not have to watch your back in fear of being backstabbed, and there is always a good word in there for you from people who know you. I mean it is a compliment that all of us should be seeking, validating the way you carry yourself and treat others. Or is it?

However, being called nice may actually be a backhanded compliment. Nice carries the connotation of being weak and indecisive, that you are mere sheep for the wolves to pray on. People who work with you know that you can be taken advantaged of. It means that while you are the best friend of many girls you are romantically involved with none of them, that you are merely the safe harbour for them in the turbulent ocean of love they sail in. It also implies that while you may have your good points ultimately you are just are plain "nice" guy. Apparently nice guys are destined to finish last.

The modern work place is the perfect example. In the medical centre in which I work in as the 2ic, I am responsible for the planning of the covers of various medics. Ever the nice guy, I seek constantly to satisfy the requests of the medics as well as the units seeking medical coverage. However, in the time I have spent there, I realised that being nice just does not cut it. Everybody constantly asks you for changes in their covers, whether it is the medic or the units when you start aceding to their requests. The only way to deal with that is to play the bad guy and tell to all "go fly kite". Not to day that all the people are unreasonable, but it gets on your nerves how people take your niceness for granted. The people too often are guilty of taking my kindness as my weakness.

Even when dealing directly with patients, they think that just because you are a medic supposedly serving them that they can walk all over your heads. When I am being polite and helpful to you, that is because as a person I think you deserve courtesy, not because of your bloody rank or position. I will do my job to the best of my ability, but expecting me to go to unreasonable lengths for your own selfish convenience just irks me no end. I am too polite to say it to their face, but a lot of them do not seem to get the subtle hints that they are just irritating me.

We all want to be well liked, but at what price? I really think that beacuse I try to be nice, the opportunity costs is not worth it. Many a times I inconvenience myself to help others, all I get may just be a half hearted thank you. I do not expect things in return when helping others, but you do it hoping that they would do the same for you. Too often though the response is disheartening.

So should nice people like me start being like a selfish naccisistic loud mouth? The idea seems rather appealing. In this world where only the fittest survive, it is much easier to take advantage of others and claim the credit then to help them. We are constanly taught to aggegerate our own ability and character so the bosses will take notice of us. The quiet, steady worker who actually does real work is passed over for promotions in favour of those that talk the loudest and the most, never mind the actual work.

No, for I am not nice just because I want to be nice. I like helping others as long as it is reasonable, and the idea of being the quiet worker whose work's importance is only realised when he is not around to do it seems much more appealing. Niceness is still nice, though a little tempering with reality is best.

P.s: Any pretty girls looking for a self proclaimed "nice" guy......????

P.P.S: Stop it u DESPO!!! Urgh I hate myself

Quote of the day

" Always be nice to people on the way up; because ypu'll meet the same people on the way down."

Wilson Mistner
US screenwriter (1876 - 1933)

Someone died...

The guy's dead.

We tried to save him, yet in the end it wasn't enough.

Never in my life as a medic have I expected someone who has been sent to my medical centre to die. All I wished for in my NS life is having a boring time and ORDing in peace, but that has unfortunately eluded me, for I will remember this time of my NS life forever. You have seen news of other people dying elsewhere in the SAF, but it never quite has the same impact as when you have experienced it first hand of seeing a young man alive one moment and then learning that he is already dead the next. Really puts life in perspective.

It was on this Wednesday evening, when the guys and me who were on duty were chilling out around the emergency room when we received a call that a patient suffering from fits. What is the condition of the patient? What are his parameters? The medic has no answer to these most basic questions, with the patient apparently being sent directly from his company line. Well, no big deal we thought, for fits cases were all too common and none overly serious. Little could we realise the surprise we are in for.

When the patient arrive, we found that the patient, despite being so long on the road has not yet stop his fits. Furthermore, we got rude shock when we saw 2 pens in the patients mouth with blood all over it. Clearly this is going to be a long night.

The rest of the time we were trying to resuscitate the guy was a blur of activities and I'm not exactly sure of what is happening. One moment I was trying to take the guys parameters, the next I was helping Eugene to look for the suction catheter, and then I was told to get ready the ambulance. During the time, I was constantly trying to do something, for I readily admit that I felt fear for the guy's life. Open the E trolley. Get ready for intubation... And Kam San thankfully was around to prepare the things. Suck out the blood.. And Gary was there to suck out the blood with Eugene. Look at his parameters! Force open his mouth, press down on the Adam's Apple.. Harder! The MO, Dr Ho managed to intubate him. Go sercure the tube.. Continue bagging him... And in this whole mess of events finally come to a reasonable end (at least for me and the guys behind) when the doors of the ambulance closed and we are on the way to hospital.

Not for Gary, Hafiz and Dr Ho though. From their descriptions, the scene at the hospital was quite chaotic as well, and I learned that the parents were very distraught when they learned of their son's condition. Who could blame them. The mother I heard was crying her guts out, and who wouldn't sympathise with her? The father bravely thanked those that had tried their best to save their son, and deserves my admiration and empathy. The worse thing though is that despite our efforts, their son did not make it.

I have always believed that when it is your time to go, it's your time to go. But nothing could have prepared me to face this situation and the reality that a young man has died. I was angry that the guys and I could have done better. I was worried that the guy would really die that night. I was clinging on to the hope that there might be a miracle that the guy survived despite being told that he is unlikely to make it. The doctors may have readily accepted death, but for an NSF like me, the experience was terrifying.

From this though, I did learn many new things about how to handle a real life emergency case. My medical training? It almost when for naught, especially in this real life situation. My mind almost went blank. The only way to truly learn is to experienced it firsthand. When they tell you that the medical Corp is the only aspect of the SAF not playing games but dealing with life and death, I advice all future medics to take those words to heart.

Exhausted, I collasped into bed after I went home. But the incident left an imprint in my mind. In this most lifelike dream I saw someone jump off a building. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Nothing.

Helpless.

Quote of the day

"Life does not cease to be funny when people die any more than it ceases to be serious when people laugh."

- George Bernard Shaw (1856 - 1950)

Hope Hurts

Hope... Nothing promises as much and more often than not nothing delivers less. Many a great man has claimed that without hope that is no meaning in life, for sometimes hope is the only thing that keeps us going: hope for success, for love, for fortune, for a better tomorrow. Indeed, without hope, what motivation can there be in life, that life has no possibility for becoming better, only worse? The parents toiling hoping for their children can succeed; slogging it out in the office for that elusive promotion, mugging into the night to get into college and shyly approaching the crush despite those butterflies in your stomach, all these are but expressions of hope. In a perfect world, our hopes will be realized and all will be fine and wonderful. In the harsh world of reality though, it is often much more cruel.

It would not be an exaggeration to say that nothing hurts more than hope being crushed, for hope conditions us to cling on the belief that things will turn for the better, that there is still that possibility of a miracle happening. Well, they do not call them miracles for nothing. More often than not our hopes are crushed, our spirits drained and there seems to be no meaning left in life. The worst part though is that these miracles sometimes actually do happen. Baseball can provide a perfect example of this. With its 162 game season, even the worst teams will win its share of games. Your team may be trailing by an ungodly number of runs, but there is always another inning, since time is not a factor. Your team may be beaten today, but there always seem to be tomorrow till the season ends, and then there is always next season (just ask the Cubs fans).

I don't think it would not be unreasonable to say that the many great people in our history derive their drive from their hope to make the world a better place. I have no doubt that many of them left their mark on the world we live in today, realizing their hope for a better tomorrow. For this I have to salute these people, the leaders, the scientists, the philosophers, the inventors, and a myrid of other famous personailites. However, does one not find it depressing that in our current world so many issues have yet to be resolved, and seemed unlikely to be resolved anytime soon. With every new generation comes new problems, and old issues resurface as well. No worries about people no longer hoping for a better future then.

Why hope really hurts though is that many times our hopes are beyond our ability to realise by ourselves. I hope that terrorism in this world in this world will stop, but I remember back in the past there were terrorists that were called heroes today, the Viet Cong, Dr Sun Yat Sen's nationalists and maybe even America's founding fathers for example. Who am I to judge them by hoping for their failure, despite me being convinced they were misguided? I had hope than the Reverand Martin Luther King Jr's hope (or dream?) of a world where people will not be judged by their colour of their skin can be fulfilled, but even today racial profiling persists, even in Singapore despite claims otherwise. Even on a personal level sometimes one cannot help but stereotype people.

Then why hope? Still one cannot deny it keeps many of us going, and there are still hopes that we can realize ourselves. Hope hurts, but still its better than no hope at all.

Quote of the day

"Hope, deceiving as it is, serves at least to lead us to the end of our lives by an agreeable route."

-Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Bad Luck, Great experience

"Thud!!!", the distinctive sound of the car striking something reverberated throughout the vehicle. Well, I was making use of my family car now that they are on holiday for the first time, and how could I possibly be so unlucky that the car will have one of its tire on my first time out since taking over the car from my parents? Unfortunately, I turned out to be gravely mistaken, for indeed lady luck was not smiling on me this day. Fortunately though, I learned more about owning a car, about Singaporeans both good and bad, and a little about myself.

It was not immediately obvious though, for the car seemed to drive without any problems all the way from my home to YCK where I was going to play Squash with Louis. Still feeling a bit uneasy, I surveyed my car's front tires, for I immediately assume it would be the front tires would be the ones being punctured. Having found nothing wrong with them and assuming that it's the usual paranoid me worrying over nothing again, I proceeded on to both run and play squash, getting myself both hot and sweaty (Don't have any sick ideas here) without a shower for it was closed, since it was getting late already. Another sign that my luck has gone into exile.

Not that I cared, as I drove to Serangoon gardens to top up my empty stomach. It was only when parking there that I noticed that the car seems to be lower as it ended up striking the kerb which it usually doesn't. Upon closer examination, my worst fears were confirmed. Indeed there had been puncture on one of the rear tires and miraculously I have driven from Woodlands all the way there without ending up on a tragedy. All my appetite was gone as I was filled with worry. With so many petrol kiosk around, I was bound to find help right? Wrong.

Surprisingly, no one in the petrol kiosks seem to know how to fix the spare tire back on. Given it was late already, but one cannot help but be amazed that no one there seemed to have an idea how to fix a spare tire. Maybe it should be mandatory training for all petrol kiosks staff, who may have the opportunity to help some clueless youngster like yours truly when the time comes for them to be that unlucky. Perhaps taxi drivers can help? They are mostly experienced drivers right? Wrong yet again. When I approached one at Mobil to help however, he simply dismissed me with a sneer and asking why can't I see he's busy. I sincerely hope he is busy or that he had a bad day, or my impression of Singaporeans is going to take a nosedive. Signal panic mode and more sweat from my overworked pores.

What irked me even more though, is when Louis reminded me that I was supposedly a petrolhead. A petrolhead who is stuck far far away from home with a car that has a punctured tire and no way to fix it. How thoroughly embarrassing! Furthermore my father actually taught me many years before. All this just adds up to the emotional storm which is making me feel very, very miserable.

And when all hope seems to be lost and I am already planning to limp all the way back to Woodlands, my knight on a white steed appeared. Or rather a gentleman in a white lorry who was going to get pampers for his child. This gentleman though, bless his heart, took time to teach me how to fix on a spare tire. He went to great lengths to instruct me in the fine skill that is fixing on a spare tire while insisting that I took a hands on approach, so that I would be able to help myself if I ever find myself the same predicament again. Just like a certain wise sage teaching a man to fish instead of fishing for him. All this without asking anything from me. Ah I get this warm fuzzy feeling knowing that Good Samitarians can still be found among Singaporeans. Thank you again Mr Yee.

What it was rotten luck for my tire to be punctured just out of your house, it was indeed a valuble experience for a new driver, as I appear to be the one fortunate enough for something like that happen to me early so I would be ready in the future. Indeed I pity those who go through their whole lifes without something like that happen to them and thus were at a lost despite being an experienced driver. I cannot wait for someone's car to puncture so that I would be there to help and pass on what I have learned this evening (hopefully a pretty damesel-in-distress). As an added bonus, I learned you can never stereotype anyone, as Singaporeans despite being called selfish, there are in fact a lot of kind hearted people around for those in need.

Chow Yun Fat in a movie once told his screen son that lest a male knows how to fix a tire, he is not yet a man. Tonight I am glad to say that I have made this transition into manhood.

Quote of the day

"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterwards."

- Vernon Sanders Law

Backdating

In medical centres, a very major part of the daily life of the medic is to backdate things that one has failed to clear days or perhaps even weeks ago. Things that were not cleared for months and years are not unheard of. And here I am backdating an entry that I have written when I was stuck on a cover for an entire weekend. Given that I was bored out of my wits, please forgive me if I appear less than coherent.

It is indeed a blessing for me to able to write some nonsense to pass my time during the long and boring periods of time on cover. Since I do not want to write anything remotely meaningful, I would just babble out whatever comes to my mind.

The first thing I want to talk about is being a combat medic with a service job. While many people (specifically my fellow NSFs) think that this is one of the best postings one can get, and I do admit that it is not without its perks, at the same time there are tremendous burdens being placed on the shoulders of the hapless medic. In addition to being a medic, the roles of a clerk and storeman are thrust upon him as well. For my brethen in the combat units, life is even worse since they are involved in combat roles as well. With so many responsibilities, the pay of the medic is decidedly average, despite having a job scope comparable to specialists.

The other dominating issue in my pathetic life revolves around girls. Or rather, the lack of them. I wonder whether this is one of the side effects of coming from a boy's school as well as serving National Service at the moment, as a much larger majority of my friends are male (as running through my friendster can atest). While there is nothing wrong with it, one cannot help but wonder whether this is a contributing factoe to my current single status. With a bigger pool of female friends, the chances of me striking a chord with someone would have increased exponentially.

However, is it possible that the problem is at a more fundamental level; Or as what economists would put it, a structural rather than a cyclical problem? Is it possible that, heaven forbid, I am actually repulsive to girls!? While I have never been described as handsome, neither have I been considered so ghastly that girls whould shy away from me at the first opportunity. Something wrong with my personality? Too nice at times, a little crazy too, but mostly quiet and psasive lest I am with some close friends. Perhaps people can't classify me clearly, for neither am I the strong, silent type nor the cheerful outgoing variety, and thus girls do not know what to accept me as. Does that not apply to everyone? Hopefully fate is still waiting to deal me a better hand.

Another thing is my weakness for JC girls. I know people have fetishes, whether they admit it or not. Here I am though telling anyone who bothers to read it, and it must be the tremendous boredom that turned me a little bonkers. On the other hand, I think that my weakness can actually be explained. Coming to JC from a boy's school, I carry the burden of four years of longing for meaningful female relationship. Alas, JC life came and went and still nothing has changed. Part of me still sturbonly refuses to let go of this unfulfilled dream, holding futilely to non-existant memories.

You have to admit girls in JC uniforms are awfully cute though...

Disclaimer: This is me being bored out of my senses. Please do not take it as my usual self.


Quote of the day

"It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over."

-Edna St. Vincent Millay US poet (1892 - 1950)

So fit and yet so fat?

Well here comes one of my frankly quite infrequent entries, and its just because its a weekend and I'm stuck on duty that I have enough time to actually write something properly... For despite the fact that new medics have arrived at the medical centre, the bulk of the duties are still being done by the more experienced medics (i.e Lao Jiaos). The fact that my moods have been on a roller coaster ride depending on the sucess (or the lack of it) of my favourite baseball team did not exactly get me in the mood to write. But thank heavens ESPN is now showing baseball again!

Well I have been looking at myself in the mirror recently and I find that while I may not have girls going all gaga over me, I consider myself to be at least decent looking. Unfortunately though, while going through some of the photoes that I have taken with my gang, I have noticed that my face has grown fat, and though my clothes tend to hide it, so has my stomach. The unfortunate effects of being a service medic that is overworked and without sufficient time or motivation to be trim and fit.

It has not always been like this. During my Basic Military Training, my weight went all the way from 76.5kg to 69.0kg, thanks in no small part to some tender loving torturing from my most affectionate instructors. Following that though I was posted to 1 Guards, and being fit there is a matter of pride since virtually everyone there keeps themselves in fighting trim, and running 10km every other day is a matter of course. The slide however begin when I was posted to the service units in Stagmont and then Nee Soon. There was just no motivation there since the work there is already a very heavy burden and you only look forward to booking out and ogling at girls... Furthermore, despite the fact that I am hardly considered atheletic, I am one of the fittest personnel in my current unit.

So while I am considered to be fat, in some ways I have not felt the impact of it since I am still considered fit among my peers. And since I am not coming into contact with female friends as often as I do back in my schooling days, I am content with looking at girls instead of them looking at me. From what I've heard, I would also not get any rewards for getting a silver or a gold for my fitness test due to my physical status, giving me even less motivation.

Shall I just give in to the loser inside of me? Never!

But who am I joking? I am very much still in the same situation, no new motivation has appeared, except the RJ girl I found living near me... (maybe I should try to know her...), and perhaps with my second year fitness window oppening and the burning desire of my vain self to show the rest of the medics in my medical centre fow a real medic should be I would get myself in shape. Unlikely to work though, since they are not the least bothered by how well or lousy I do in the fitness test.

But I may do it for YOU! Just let me know for what... and I'll think about it.

P.S: It would do wonders if you happen to be a really chio girl!

Quote of the day

"The argument that making contraceptives available to young people would prevent teen pregnancies is ridiculous. That's like offering a cookbook as a cure to people who are trying to lose weight."

-Jerry Falwell

Baseball: The Passion Revisited

On our sunny little island, I am part of an extremely rare group of people called baseball fans. While people are fussing over whether is it going to be AC Milan or Juve to win the Serie A, I am panicking when my team, the Arizona Diamondbacks, lost a four game series to the lowly Pirates. Perhaps other than Newcastle, I realise that I could not care less about football, other than knowing it makes a very good conversational topic with the rest of my football crazy mates (with their money on the line, it is little wonder they are slightly mad). Somehow I just could not find the same passion with football or any other sport that I have with baseball.

When the baseball season is on, there is a game virtually every single day of the year, with every game having some sort of effect throughout the league. It may in someway affect the standing of your team in one of the six divisions, which is of prime importance for deciding the playoff picture. I this way it is similar to football leagues when you are cursing the other team and hoping your team would pull off a victory. With the number of games however, a week can have a drastic effect on a team. Lose tract for a week, and your team which is leading your division may have went on a seven game losing streak and are now struggling to stay in contention. So you follow everyday, willing your team to just one more victory in a winning streak or hoping (often against hope: my team has a 51 - 111 record last year with losing streaks lasting seemingly forever) that they finally break out of a losing streak. The tension is often unbearable and you see me down for an entire day just because my team lost, or grinning like an idiot for just one miserly victory.

team having so many close games, the pain or elation is often multiplied many times because of the buildup of emotion. I enjoy close games in other sports as much as the next guy, but with a set time limit, some contests just becomes waiting for the game to end. Never baseball though, or like the great Yankee cather Yogi Berra says: " It's never over till it's over." There is simply no short cuts for one team still has to play the requisite innings, and a game is only over for a team who thinks its over since for every inning you have three outs to score as many runs to overcome any possible deficit. With around three years of following the sport, seeing a team come back from seemingly impossible is sports entertainment without parallel.

Even when your team loses however, following the statistics of your players is another reason why baseball has cast such a spell over me. No other sport is as conducive to statistics as baseball, and a player's performance can very easily be seen in black and white though certain on field factors still remain relevant. Baseball fantasy leagues, as being the grand daddy of fantasy leagues, is thus another way of enjoying the sport. Other pretenders (*cough*football*cough*) are just lame in comparison. From what I know of other sports (with the possible exception of cricket) the stats are just there for entertainment purposes. Not baseball, where stats are taken extremely seriously.

And if you want to talk about colourful history, baseball will simply dazzle you with the number of stories. In fact a documentary series about baseball spans several DVDs which I fully intend to buy when somehow I find enough money(read: never). The white sox scandal, the Noble experiment, the curse of the Babe, the curse of Billy Goat are just of the few historical episodes that almost all baseball fans would have heard of and add a degree of historical passion to the sport. And a rivalry that lasts more than 80 years? Top that all you football fanatics!

Somehow though baseball fans are also a very superstitious lot. Once something works, they will try to keep as many of the conditions the same till finally and inevitably it fails. Players will keep wearing the same pair of underwear for weeks during a winning streak for a more extreme example. Me? Somehow whenever I see RJC girls my team seems to lose... Which puts me in a spot since I have a soft spot for them in my heart... but that is another issue for another time.

We can't have everything now, can we?

Quote of the day

"Baseball is like church. Many attend, few understand"

-Leo Durocher (1906 - 1991)

Observations from life

Haven't written for quite sometime now, mostly due to the fact that I am just too lazy to bring myself to start typing. Not that I have nothing to bitch about though, but because there are too many things in my head that I'm trying to get off and I do not know where to start.

Went to my dear friend Ducky's surprise birthday party on Saturday, of which Joan went to great lengths to put up for him... Every guy should be so lucky. While we weren't exactly sure of how we are going to surprise him, it still turned out well enough since he appears to be genuinely shocked. Xuanfeng's idea of catching him with his pants down for the surprise would have been better, though unfortunately we did not pull that off. Another time for another victim then. The party would have been better if there was more estrogen to balance the high testerone levels, considering that most of the guys at the party were single, but then I'm just desperate.

Spring is here and baseball season is here, and I am just all over myself with excitement for the new season of heady triumphs and devastating defeats. With my dear Arizona diamondbacks barely five games into the season, I already have my fair share of the emotional roller coaster that every sports fan experiences. Our new ace Javier Vasquez was blown to bits by the Cubs in the season opener, but thankfully we were able to win the series with some timely hitting. The next two games however, were just devastating to this fanatical dbacks fan. As expected our new lineup was just mashing homers left right center as they have been doing since spring training started. Troy Glaus and the G-men were just doing everything a fan could ask for from the middle of the lineup. The pitching however was just as underwheliming as they have been during spring training. The game on Saturday(S'pore time) was lost despite a 7-3 lead entering the ninth, and Sunday's game was lost despite the lineup constantly battling back to cover the bullpen's back, finally losing it in the tenth inning. The season may be young, but I felt as if I have aged ten years.

Speaking of emotional roller coasters though, the medical centre was another source of rides I would rather do without. On Thursday a Asthma casulty came in with a whole bunch of officers in tow, and I was asked to asked to IV the casulty. Talk about pressure. And despite knowing less than enough IV to save their own behinds, these people fekt compelled to offer their 2 cents worth. Maybe I should have chased them away, but the fact is that I was visibly shaking when I missed the IV (no thanks to some faulty equipment too, it just wasn't my day). To futher rub it in, the medic from their unit manged it sucessfully. I know nobody's perfect with IVs, but it really hurts to let down my own unit and more importantly myself in front of so many. What happens if the casulty's life was at stake (which thankfully was not).

I was glad that I had attempted the IV in front of so many instead of shying away from it, but that does not change the fact that I've failed, despite comforting words from my fellow medics. I realise now when I tell others at least they have tried, I may have being just pouring salt into the wound, for it is more painful to be reminded you have given your all but still failed. This should not discourage people from trying though, as the only way to remedy a failure is to have sucess. It felt much better when I had a sucessful IV late that day, albeit under much less stress, though the earlier failure still left a better after taste which I think may only be remedied by perfecting the art that is IVing people.

The medical centre is also the source for another interesting observation. When I had told the guys earlier that we needed to clean up the medical centre, no body paid much heed since it wasn't really urgent. Only when threatened to be force to stay back to clean the MC by the MO did everyone, me included started cleaning with a mission. Guess people still respond best when their immedite future is threated.

The season is still young, and hopefully next week will be better than the last. Hope I believe still springs eternal.

Quote of the day

"Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."

-Theodore Roosevelt