Monday's blues.

Today is the 31st and for the past 4 months, this particular number always represented all things good. It is no exception today, and for once during work I am in jubilation. 31st of every month is pay day. It represents the culmination of the suffering for the past 2 fortnights, where I had to scrimp and save and scrimp save for hope that my bank account will swell one day when I wake up on a fine sunny day preparing for the flight to the land of the rising sun. Ironically, like a deal too good to be true, today also marks day one of 30 where I had to start the vicious cycle all over again, scrooging with whatever pennies I have. But let's not turn this fantastic day into one of bleak and gloom - it's never my style to be pessimistic (You all should know I am the least pragmatic person around). Instead, I shall revel in the extra cash that i unfamiliarily find myself with. Heck, I even managed to save 10 bucks last week! The idea of cutting out the deficit had all along remained obscure, not to mention a surplus!

Add to the fact that this week will be a very good week, thanks to our darker-toned compatriots . Tuesday and thursday off seemed like such a week too good to be true that I am sure that many people pinched themselves when they awoke today. They must have thought: Is this for real, that i can finally take today, wednesday and friday off so that i can have a whooping 9 days off? Heck i can even go maritius for a long walk by the beach, sit on elephants' backs in India, see the great barrier reef from inside a submarine, cuddle with dolphins at Sentosa, play 99 rounds of mahjong, and still have time to watch all the charity shows we've had? Or i might as well just turn into a couch potato for 9 days! WOW! The only pity is that we actually have 2 working days. But one must learn not to be greedy, i think.

I don't think anyone would have hated monday today.

P.S : Dim sum tomorrow, anyone?

While i am already salivating at the prospect of visiting the snowy vast plains of Hokkaido come December, I am already dreaming of the day when i finally put the fruits of my spanish lessons to good use. Europe and Japan not only are miles apart geographically-wise, many would also argue there is a seemingly "step-up" in class and not to mention which destination ranks higher in most people's wish-lists. Though i will have accomplished one of my death-wishes (quite young to have already fulfilled it by the way) when i burst through the Narita airport gates screaming konnichiwa to everyone within the proximity of 50 metres, i will nevertheless cast envious eyes on that timer board which details every single flight incoming or outgoing, and look at the countries further west.

Realised i should have punctuation marks up there, but.... neh.

Back to work work work.

Work = Force x distance

Don't you ever wonder what is your - a 36 degree celcius warm blooded mammal who has nothing but trillions of organisms inside you working in tune together to form you - purpose in life. Most of us are sucked into the endless doldrums called work, or some would call it their job. From day one since we were all introduced into this world, we were all subconsciously streamed into various paths and that we were expected to follow in the footsteps of those who had trod the path before us. Education is simply a phase where we all learn the harsh realities of life, that the golden mantra duo of "Hard work pays off" and "There is never a free lunch in this world" should be on our head all the while. Especially true in Singapore where everybody is expected to play a part into building our nation. Our country prosper, you prosper too. So everybody is supposed to work, be it you are in Zimbabwe or Tokyo. Work is just, well, to put simply, work done, or more specifically, force x distance. Which means you gotta force yourself to input force to last an entire distance depending on your employment years. And that doesn't sound very logical to me.

Besides, doing mundane stuff like checking screws diameter and inputting data in a laptop doesn't seem very enticing. At least to me. Just why is work so tepid and uninteresting is beyond my understanding. Why can't jobs be more fun, that makes you feel more involved?

Are we all fulfilling an unwritten prophecy that we were cursed with since we were born, that we are going to slog our lives off for the majority of our meagre lifespan? Judging from what i had seen so far, i'm sure it bodes true.

I urge everyone to forget the crap you had just read and return back to their psychologically and financially rewarding careers.

Right turn after a right turn after a right turn leads to nowhere

I am like a child who has just been introduced to the world, albeit without the screaming and crying and all the nonsense a confused infant exhibits once outside his mother's warm cuddly wet womb. All these html stuff is making me panic, yet it leaves me wanting to know more about this alien language which i find impossible to grasp, at least in my lifetime. Look to the sidebar to the right of this page and you shall spot the words 'Evon' followed by miscellaneous stuff, which according to my knowledge, i had just turned them into URL links. Be not be beguiled by this seemingly simple convenience i had just gifted to you or myself - it is no easy task. Just locating the location of the template where it is to appear is tiring enough, not to mention that I can't tell a tagline from a headerline. It's not something fit for humans to decipher, and the person who invented all these shall be stampeded to smithereens by screaming aunties clamouring for bae yong jun's used underwear. Just what the hell are all the codes trying to tell to the average man? That the holy grail is in fact a woman's womb (sorry Dan Brown)? Or is the person trying to strike claims for coming up with the worst language to master? Maybe hidden therein the codes lies a map to a pot of gold even? Seriously i don't know what the f*ck html or template or c programming is all about.

All this makes the satisfaction of adding the links to the right the even more sweet smelling. It's akin to the primate that had just discovered a new tool for hunting.

Greetings to me.

Hi there, perculiar-looking fellow with that stout snout, those twinkly-doodly eyes, the meatless posterior, the decreasingly gangly profile, and that face which never fails to induce wrinkled old people from calling you 'smaller brother' - a term which i struggle to fully comprehend as i am neither kin nor friend to them, and to call someone with a grand height of 1.79m tall ( I would never accept that i am 1.80m) 'small' isn't exactly appropriate.

*Shakes the left hand with the right hand*

Nice to meet me.