I will be the pattern of all patience; I will say nothing.

It’s 8am. I still can’t sleep.

6am: gave up tossing in bed.

6.30am: walked around the house in the pale blue morning light. Heard weird bird sounds. Weird for the 26th storey. Went to the fridge, looked for the usual sleep inducers. None. No pills, no alchohol, no milk for the honey.

My city is a synthetically bright one. My home is the same. Must get used to other ways of life.

7am: started pc up.

8am: out of blogs, out of mail, out of searches. not in the mood for anything in particular.

*twiddle thumbs*

Am missing our dvd collection right now.

Am trying not to think about the discomfort of moving.

Am trying not to sneer at the meandyou-dotcom wedding sites-turned-blogs.

Faintly recall trying to sleep in other continent. Still frigid air. Smells of bread. What will I do if I can’t sleep? Call home?

Random thoughts creep: I don’t want to take down the photos from the wall. I don’t want to put the rest of my stuff in boxes into storage somewhere here. My parents might move closer to my brother when he moves. I might not see my room again.

Does it matter?

I psych: nothing is final. There is always recourse. No cause for alarm.

I shudder: navigating, driving, job, house, taxes, maintenance, gas, repairs, insurance, phone, groceries, hospitals, savings, investments, forms, processes, banks, mortgage, time.

Many unknowns. Size unknown.

I aspire: others have gone, some alone, some with dependants, some with nothing, some with too much.

They follow(ed) dreams.

Uh-oh. No dreams lately.

Maybe because can’t sleep.

Gone to try again.

A week or so before we headed off to Japan, the folks in the office managed to organise a nice basketball 5-on-5 match. Usually not my kind of thing, but KF insisted I should check out his moves, so there I was, being nothing less than an enthusiastic camera-person.

Here’re the highlights.

It’s nice that the guys rallied together for what was a pretty cool game. They should so totally do it more often.

This evening Sharkie and I tried out the Jurlique Day Spa at Wheelock Place. Spas and facials sound innately attractive, though I’ve never had a facial, and the last spa I treated myself to was at the Park Hyatt in Vietnam (and I really didn’t fancy it).

So I thought I would reward myself to keep motivated through a somewhat uncomfortable transition ahead. I’ve also been thinking of my quarterly rewards, but it looks like the 400D and the Wii will take me through to the first six months.

I’ve not really used Jurlique before, but I’ve tried the heavenly smelling Rose Hand Cream. The store smells pretty much like that. I tried the Herbal Mud Body Wrap, and it was a pretty pleasant experience. For an hour, you get lightly massaged, get mud smeared on, get wrapped and heated up, lie in the darkened room and try to focus on the sound of the heater, and then experience the relief when they come and turn the heater off. Of course it was messy, but they kept the mud mess to a minimum. There is also a shower in room to take the mud off. It’s probably psychological, but the thought of sweating out buckets in the wrap is pretty revitalising.

What I really liked was the Aromatherapy Facial. For an hour, you get your face cleansed, toned, massaged, hydrated and generally pampered. It also helps that their products smell so good. You also get your arms moisturised and your head and neck massaged while they’re at it. It was splendid.

The Jurlique Day Spa is located at Wheelock Place, #04-02. Call 6735-7177 for appointments.

So despite sleeping most of the day, I’m dead tired now. Looking forward to a peaceful, comfortable and early night.

It’s been a week. I still think about her in my downtime. It still gets to me.

I’m trying to pack, but I hate it. Efficient moving requires a discipline I don’t have. I carry too much baggage in my life. And I remember each time I pack. I know I should throw everything out. I just can’t bring myself to. I need to complete shipping the boxes by tomorrow. I think it’s going to be another 3 for me. It’s mostly documents and clothes at this point.

I wish I didn’t have to do this.

Happy Longest Day of the Year.

Chinese folk celebrate the Winter Solstice – Dong Zhi 冬至 – by eating glutinous riceballs in sweet (or savoury) soup, but hey, there’s the flipside Xia Zhi 夏至 as well that often goes uncelebrated.

Perhaps I should have some of that ice-cream with little riceballs on them to celebrate. They now have an outlet that sells that at Great World City. Interestingly enough, there are now 4 coffee joints there – Spinelli, Mac Cafe, Coffee Bean and now Starbucks. They all serve crap tea.

Longest day or not, it’s another day. We should all be happy.

It’s sweltering today. I almost forgot what it’s like to sweat so profusely (cos I stopped going to the gym)! But it’s hot hot hot!

I went back to the office to drop some stuff off and pick some stuff up. And while I deliberately refused to say goodbye before – to anyone, to the place, to my friends, in my mind – today felt like it. Nothing says goodbye better than packed boxes and empty desks. They’re moving to new premises next week. Part of me is sad that I won’t be a part of the new office, and I can’t saunter in and out as I please like it was my home.

Perhaps it’s a nicer feeling looking back on something than actually living through it. At least I’ll look back fondly and I’ll remember the fun times, without having to live through the now-times.

In the last few days I’ve run enough errands to say that the government stat boards have really been a lot more useful than they used to be.

First – the Immigration and Checkpoints Authority (ICA). KF is a PR and needs to get a little stamp (re-entry permit) in his passport to allow him to re-enter Singapore and stay freely.

We went to the ICA Building in Lavender, and it’s not a trip I particularly enjoy. The building is usually crowded some of the walkways are terribly narrow (the corridor outside the photo taking and photo copy booth especially) and you HAVE to pass it to get around to the escalator.

However, the last two trips there have been super fast and super efficient. There might be a long queue just to state your business and get directed to the right counter (if you don’t use the automated queue machine and choose to speak with a human), but it’s not a long wait. And the person behind the counter isn’t some mean-assed old civil servant who is just making it past the day, it’s a nice lady who can give you advice on your options.

Next to her there is a board with the kinds of cases they deal with, and your expected waiting time (in minutes). We spoke to the lady, got a queue number and went inside to wait. I expected to wait about ten minutes (based on what the signboard said) but when we got inside to the waiting area our number was already flashing. Behind the counter, a friendly service officer greeted us. The whole process took ten minutes. No strange questions. No suspicious looks. No tongue-clicks, no eye rolling, they accept cashcard and NETS – not cash, and a smile at the end of things. No “come back again”, no wait for a letter in the mail, no “fill in this and present yourself on another day”.

Completely unlike the experience at the US Embassy.

And I thought the process was quick and efficient for citizen services only! The last time I had to go to the ICA was to get a new Identity Card. They sent me a form in the mail, I responded via the website with my updated particulars and photo, a week later they sent me notification that the card was ready and I could collect it. It took me longer to get to the ICA building than it did to collect my card. Again, I hardly waited 5 minutes and the process was pleasant.

It’s really something. I’ve always expected nothing less than the minimum from the civil service but sometimes they move in such mysterious ways. Good job.

It was much the same experience when I headed to the Central Provident Fund (CPF) Building to reset my Singpass. The Singpass is a PIN/password that can be used on stat board website to access personalised services, like my Income Tax returns or my CPF Funds statement. When we got to the second floor (for walk-in enquiries) we were greeted by a nice lady who directed traffic to the right areas. The nice lady helped some folks access terminals (so they could check their CPF balances) or to a counter (if they had specific issues) or in my case, sent me on to Counter 9 (just walk in, no queue number needed) to reset my Singpass.

I went to Counter 9, got verified to be me, and reset my Singpass on the spot. I signed a form, and left the counter. All in three minutes. No wait, no fuss.

I’m really quite impressed with both the ICA and the CPF. Some private sector firms would do nicely for themselves to take a leaf out of their books. When we went United Overseas Bank (UOB) to apply for tokens for internet banking, we didn’t even know there were two separate queues. I don’t even understand why there would need to be 2 lines. What really got me going was:
1) The other over-the-counter transaction line wasn’t visible.
2) It doesn’t make sense to have a queue ticket system (right at the entrance of the bank!) for investment related services and NOT indicate that; and not require a queue ticket system for over the counter services. And why would you have the waiting area of the first stupid queue obscure the view of the other physical queue (where people are standing in line)?
3) How do you expect the user to differentiate between an arbitrary division in labour set by the bank? How do I make the call which line to follow? Shouldn’t I be able to open an account over the counter instead of taking a queue number? And the best part is, they probably won’t bat an eyelid making me queue/wait all over again if I joined the wrong line.

This is why local businesses in Singapore – internet ones included – aren’t very compelling products. Customers/users here are just soft on crap service. Or maybe the market just isn’t large enough for many large businesses in each sector to survive – leaving the customer/user with little choice. But the result is highly uncompetitive businesses. Sure, they invest their money well, the bottom line is looking good, etc. But where it comes down to serving the consumer – they suck badly. Perhaps providing the service isn’t a primary business – last I checked I really wasn’t listening in my banking class and I could be mistaken that they borrow and lend money to people (me, you, consumers, users) for a living – so they don’t have to count on it or make it count, so to speak.

Good service isn’t about having an apologetic bank officer take the blame when someone yells at him about how the layout of the bank was so stupid he/she wasted half an hour waiting for nothing. Service is making it easy for the customer to get what he needs – information, transaction, whatever. The less I have to interact with someone at the bank, the better.

It’s a shame that the private sector doesn’t understand that as well as the public sector. I’d hope for the bank to fail, but for the fact that I use them, and the other 3 (or 2) are complete crap as well, so I hope someone (maybe more than one) there retires soon so that a newer breed of smarts can take over.

When I was nine my parents brought us on a family vacation to Europe. It was a pretty big deal in those days, taking a plane and all, and I was told I was very lucky to be able to have taken a plane at the grand old age of nine. Honestly I don’t think I had any idea or gave two hoots about what was going on. All I had to do was tag along and we didn’t have to go home for a whole month! How neat was that?

No one really mentioned how the flight was going to take the life out of us – it was a 27-hour rickety Pakistan Airlines flight with stops in Colombo, Karachi and I-forget-where-else. When we got to Heathrow, we were tired, completely sick of curry and in desperate need of a shower. But as I got off the plane, it seemed as if we landed in another world. It was cool – well, cold, people (including my cousins) spoke like people did on TV, everything seemed to be covered in some kind of haze, and it smelled like bread.

Now flights don’t take 27 hours with multiple stops anymore. Now the planes are new and don’t smell of curry (just jet fuel). I try to feel like I landed in another world each time I land, but the more I visit someplace the less it feels that way. And it doesn’t smell of bread anywhere.

But I can appreciate a good vacation. I just need to psyche myself up for a long one.

Got back from the root canal treatment an hour ago. It was pretty much what I expected.

I ran into all 3 dentists I use at the clinic – my orthodontist I met in the lift going to the clinic. She insisted I pop by and so she can check if she can fix the tooth in my bottom row that popped out of place.

The endodontist was already waiting for me – I was a little late as usual. He was his usual brand of smiley and geeky, years ago when I worked at the dental clinic, he convinced me that wearing retainers was a waste of time. So it was ironic that this morning I run into my orthodontist who gave me the – you didn’t wear your retainers?? spiel – and the very endodontist who gave me the idea in the first place.

Before he started drilling, I told him it was his fault that my orthodontist is now hunting me down and we’re trying to restore perfection to the alignment of my teeth.

And he said the deepest thing a dentist has ever said to me – life is full of imperfection.

That’s so true. Still, I’d like to know I’m trying for it. Maybe I equate perfection with excellence.

An hour later, I emerge from the endodontist’s chair numb and sore, and I run into my regular dentist. He reminds me of my dad – small set, tan, and horribly anal retentive. He asks me how I am, and says it was quick. We go through my next steps and his schedule, so I know when to make my next appointment.

He is concerned that the treatment is going to impact my bank balance a little too much. I’m worried that the crown is going to be ugly. He’s my mom’s age, probably older. I shudder to think about ever visiting a dentist that’s not him. He’s extracted every adult tooth I ever needed to extract (4 pre-molars for my orthodontics, 4 wisdom teeth), and kept them all whole.

I had a good day at the dentist. Mostly because Mr Endodontist said I didn’t look my age, but a lot younger – he was always funny.

Next week we finish what we started, so another few trips to the dentist, but the hard part is over. I’ve one less tooth, and imperfection has set, but well, life is full of imperfection.