A Lecturer's Dream

I started reading Madeleine Albright’s memoir. No I haven’t finished yet because it’s as thick as a dictionary… I only reach the 1980s period.

I realize that like many other great achievers, Albright had very clear vision and direction since young. She knew herself well, she knew what she interested in, she knew the career path she wanted to take – and the knowledge of herself started very young. Of course she is a very determine person. Gung-ho, and persevere. And she actually planned her career move so carefully that she eventually achieve what she wanted.

I believe this is what everyone needs to do – know yourself well.

I struggled with the “who am I” question when I was younger. I had an ambition to be a teacher when I was a kid (and later I realized that it was actually an ambition set for me by The Mother). Then I thought I wanted to study Chinese literature. Then I wanted to go to Japan to study. After all those fail, I entered university where I met a classmate who introduced the world of psychology to me, for which I eventually studied. It was only after a few years later then I discovered where my passion lies, and that you can actually be interested and involved in many things at the same time. But that was not until the later part of my youths.

No wonder I can only be a lecturer.

The Tissue Paper Ah Mah

Almost every time we walk pass the underground pass between Tangs and Isetan Scott, we would see the old Ah Mah selling packets of tissue papers. Now, we don't go there often. So when we do, we see her, which shows us that she's there quite often. Normally, Mr Goh would give the Ah Mah $2 and take 3 packets of tissue papers with Snow White printed on the packets. We would love to buy everything she sells - Kong Guan biscuits, old clothes, etc. But there's only this much you can do.

I always think that old people should just stay at home, play with their grandchildren, and go travelling with their friends. At least I hope that's what my golden years life would be.

Seeing Ah Mah selling things like that make me sad. Call me old fashion, but I think it is the children's job to look after their old folks. It is something called "the family".

In my opinion, a family is not about the members of the family - who they are, how many members there are, but it's about the love and responsibility between each member. From an academic point of view, identifying a family structure is easy, identifying an "alternative family" is also easy. But if we don't factor in the love and responsibility between family members, that structure remains an empty shell.

I recognise that there are families where their members don't get along. But I think deep down, somehow, there's something that links all members together. In our previous lives, we must have had some sort of connections that we "deserve" each other in this lifetime... (hmmm)

So anyway, I hope the Ah Mah doesn't need to sell tissue papers anymore. Then I don't have to carry around Snow White or Barbie Doll tissue papers.

Make Me Over!

My colleagues and I attended a seminar last week. The seminar featured some high level people, some experienced people in the industry. Everything went well – the topics were good, the profile of the speakers were impressive, until a couple of the speakers showed their presentations.

Now, we acknowledged that it’s difficult to persuade media educators because we tend to be very critical – I mean, we have to, right? Considering that we have been teaching students subjects like “persuasive communication”, naturally we have high expectations.

So anyway, these speakers spoke with powerpoint presentations, and to our horror, the powerpoint were very badly done! Everything that we told our students not to do – such as don’t put too many words on one slide, don’t use yellow background with red text, etc – they did it. We were very tempted to ask for the softcopy to show as bad example for PerCom.

The point is, packaging is very important. The content was great, it’s just that it wasn’t presented in a way where the audience could understand, or could be receptive. Japanese are so successfully in selling their culture because they packaged everything so well! More so if you are in the media industry – it’s a big packaging business…

Then I read The Sunday Times on how this person landed more interviews when he attached a makeover photograph of himself together with his resume. The point was that employers look at the “face value”, literally before they decided to give you a chance to even impress them with your knowledge.

Well, yes, we often say that inner beauty is important. Nowadays, inner beauty must be packaged nicely too.

No wonder I had a hard time landing a job when I first graduated – during my time, there was no such thing as “complete makeover”.

To Help, or not To Help

The accident happened the first night we arrived at Sapporo. We were on our way to the hotel after dinner. The bus turned left at green light, three quarter passed the pedestrian crossing, when a drunkard man walked into (literally) the bus, and fell - face down, in a cold winter night.

It was a crowded street. Along the main street were pubs, shopping centres, stores, and people were busy crossing the road. But no one (the locals) stopped and helped. They just walked pass the man lying on the road, gave him a second look, and carried on with their lives.

Of course the accident held us up for nearly 2 hours.

Which reminded me of our investigation on altruism.

According to Latane and Darley, in order for people to reach out to help, we must first notice the incident, interpret it as emergency, assume responsibility, and then we try to help. At each fork of the path, the presence of other bystanders may divert a person down a branch toward not helping.

So there we go - in a big city where it's crowded, we are less likely to assume responsibility - "someone surely will help that man"...

It's probably common in big city, or a cosmopolitan. We have grown so far apart even though physically we are getting closer (imagine Singapore and its 6 millions population in the future).

I am just wondering if such accident happened in Singapore, whether we would reach out and help - by carrying the man to the pavement, calling the police, stepping up as a witness....

Finding Laksa

I am constantly in search for authentic Penang laksa. My friend, who is of Penang origin, and I share notes on which stall sells the best Penang laksa. We started with the food court in China Square. The boss eventually moved to Boon Lay and then to the USA to sell laksa. Then we found one at Joo Chiat, which by far was the most authentic (although the price was a bit steep), but has since folded. We also found one stall at the Aljunied Ave 2 hawker centre, which was a bit salty to our liking, but fairly authentic, other than the "noodle" itself.

However, when I went to taste it again yesterday, somehow it was not the same anymore.

You see, authentic Penang laksa has several "characteristics" - the fish stock must be made with "ikan kembong" (or "ikan batu" as it is called in Singapore), with the fish carefully scrapped so that every spoonful of soup you taste is full of (melted with) minced fish meat. It should come with thick "white noodle" ie the laksa noodle (but can't find it in Singapore). It should come with generous shredded vegetables, pineapple, onions, and most importantly mint leaves.

The laksa I tasted yesterday had chucks of fish in the soup. This means you taste the soup and the fish separately. The vegetables came in, not shredded, but large pieces. And there were two mint leaves.

I think it is difficult to maintain one's tradition and culture when you move to a new place where the environment lacks certain things to help you upkeep your tradition. What we, the immigrants, always do is to assimilate into the new environment - from the way we speak, the things we eat, our mentality, our expectations... so that we can be accepted into the newfound land. If we so decided to stay true to our traditions, then we run the risk of being isolated, or segregated.

Food is like this. Our custom is like this. Can't find the same noodle. So we make do with whatever we have. Don't have time to scrap fish anymore. So we make do with big chucks of fish. To adapt to the locals' taste bud, we make slight changes - a bit sweeter, a bit less sour.

But it is not the same anymore.

Maybe I should open my own stall and sell the authentic Penang laksa. But then again, if I insist on the real thing, maybe my business will go bust very soon.

I Have A Dream

I normally wake up remember my dreams. Rarely as vivid as yesterday's. I actually dreamt that I was giving a speech during a dinner - those sit-down dinner. And I clearly remember my speech.

I talked about how to be a better person, and I raised 4 points:
1. We must be forgiving. There's an old Chinese saying: "be strict on yourself, but be generous toward others".
2. We must be responsible.
3. We must be empathy. Confucious said that (and I am attempting to translate because in my dream, I spoke in Mandarin) for every 3 persons, there would be 1 who can be our "teacher".
4. We must have love.
And I tend to think that these are the 4 principles (I thought it should be the "rules of three") that I live by.

I believe that we have to be forgiving because everyone has a story to tell. For every mistake that one makes, for every act that one does, I tend to believe that there's a reason behind it. I don't honk at drivers who make last minute turn because I think maybe they are unfamiliar with the directions; I don't criticise people who speak with an accent because I once spoke with one... I think we need to be more generous and accommodate difference. Maybe then we would be happier.

I also believe that everyone can be my teacher. The worst boss ever can be my "teacher" because he/she teaches me how NOT to become one such boss; the person who screams at me teaches me the real meaning of being gracious... And if I put myself in another person's shoes, I think I can be even more forgiving.

The funny thing is that, in my dream, several faces where clearly seen. And these were the people I really want to address to in real life, had it been possible.

(I pray for peace throughout the world and the happiness of all humanity.)

World No. 1 Airport

I had booked an SQ air ticket online for my mother who was going back to Penang for a funeral. As it was a last minute booking, I had to collect my ticket from the airport itself. In the SQ website, it was listed that the Excess Baggage Claim Row 1 (Departure Hall) was the place I could go to.

So I went to T2 during lunch time, 2.5 hours before the departure time, together with my 66-year-old mother, we walked to Row 1. Both Row 1 and 2 were closed because the lights were off. There was one staff sitting behind the counter facing the main gate. I approached the staff, thinking that I could ask for an alternative counter where I could get my ticket.

The female staff who was in her uniform was having her lunch. I asked her: "Excuse me, could you please help me..." Without waiting for me to complete my request, she looked up, without a hint of smile, and said: "You can't see I'm eating, ah?"

You can imagine how shocked I was! As a customer, I was "reprimanded" for interrupting her lunch! I didn't ask for her name because I was in a rush and I didn't want to affect my poor mother who was already in distraught over her sister's death. So I walked away and went to the Excess Baggage counter at Row 3 and get my things settled.

I can't help but thinking what breed this type of behaviour. Was it because she had a "bo-chap" attitude? Was it because she's not paid well? What???

I always believe that it's important to like your job. Even if you don't like your job and that's no way you could get out of it (like in SIP), the least you should do is to respect your job, respect your profession. There's an old Chinese saying... "respect your job and love your job". I don't think I can respect this Airport staff because she did not show respect to her job, hence herself.

I complained to the Changi Airport authority. No I didn't ask for her name...