Comatose

Now if AOT is likened to a human being, I guess it is safe to say that it has been going in and out of a coma. Well, there is one big reason for this but underlying it are many reasons.

“Bugger it all with the writing.”

There, I’ve said it.

As a human being, thoughts flutter in and out of my mind constantly. But they are now enveloped by the daily fear and worry. That is the environment in which they exist now and unless something drastic happens, it will stay that way.

Together with the occupational hazard that comes with having to churn out words at a fairly alarming rate so that they string themselves in the new universal language of the world – “Corporatespeak”, any urge to tell the world (not as though there are many who listen) about these thoughts is basically non-existent.

So AOT is basically like a patient in a coma.

Other than that, I guess I have never quite gotten over a little shock I received late last year when bits of my life that I spew here are read by people whom I have no intention (then and even now) of sharing them with. That basically sucked the life out of the need to use this as a sounding board. Not their (these well-meaning people that I know in real life) fault of course since I didn’t do a good job of maintaining anonymity. But things happen.

Anyway, now that AOT is barely awake again, I could talk about what I have been up to. Unfortunately, there really hasn’t been much. I can talk about some blog awards going on but then it would only make me sound like a self-righteous prick if I were to spill my thoughts about it online. I can also talk about a new blog being set up where people share their stories about Singapore (great idea and effort) but patriotism no longer runs in my veins (with rising costs, I’ve completely embraced forced-upon materialism instead). I can talk about how I was basically a prisoner in my own little world in a city of seven million (on one of my recent pilgrimages to a place I have always loved).

Then again, who cares?

I can talk about the changes in my attitudes towards some things in life. An example would be how I used to baulk at the thought of signing up as a member of those spiffy dating agencies. Unlike now, when temptations run through my mind every night as I lay my head on the pillow thinking how it may just be dosh well-spent for a bloke in his mid-thirties having never held the hand of a gal (which is an experience different from holding my gramp’s).

I can talk about my three visits to a place where blokes would never dare tell their girlfriends or wives that they’ve been there. [Self-righteous prick mode on] Not that I enjoy going there to get molested (if you are still clueless where this place is, it is where blokes pay to sing and get molested), it is an eye-opening experience simply because a thousand thoughts race in my mind when I see rings on the fingers of some of these blokes and think about the forlorn pinings of their women who might be wondering where their blokes were and what they were doing. Oh, and not to forget, the sheepish look on every male face (including mine) when darting eyes greet each other in the toilet.[Self-righteous mode off]

I can talk about the absurdities with regards to the politicking at my previous companies but then again, everyone already has their long list of absurdities at their workplace.

I’ll leave you, dear reader (if there is one!), with a tale of irony witnessed.

It happened one fine evening after I got off from work. The moment I got on the bus which would bring me home, I heard music. No, it wasn’t one of those trailers of locally produced sitcoms (forced upon the masses) shown on those lovely square boxes on board buses of the red company. No square boxes on the buses of this beige / orange (damn… what’s their corporate colour) company.

But there was the music! And it was loud enough for everyone (from the back to the front) on board the bus to enjoy. It came from one of the passengers, or specifically his phone.

Now being a self-righteous prick and someone who has always put his phone on silent mode, I had some choice words for this particular passenger. However, I kept them mostly in my head for fear of having a photo of my crushed jaw plastered on the front pages of tabloids.

So everyone in the bus had to listen to the choice musical selections of this passenger (they seem to be enjoying it though, since no one bothered enough to make a hoo-ha out of it and risk having their jaws crushed). For me, I protested silently by taking out my noise-cancelling earphones and plugged them into my iPod.

However, I could still hear the music above the strains of George Michael.

This went on for quite a while until a ringtone (as loud as the music, mind you) went off. It wasn’t before long when we could see that this passenger was sitting beside his friend and that call was for this lovely music-sharer’s friend.

Within seconds of this companion saying “hello” into his phone, there was dead silence. Our dear friend had switched off the music! Basic courtesy practised! Where’s Singa when you don’t need him? Although everyone on the bus is now forced to become captive eavesdroppers, I thought I saw some relieved faces.

In any case, the very considerate music-sharer and his companion alighted from the bus not long after. Nevertheless, the silence didn’t last long as it was replaced by the chatter of a group of aunties who boarded the bus. Barely tolerable, but still, it is better than music on repeat mode.

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