Though as much as I would like it to be true,  it seems I'm still far from approaching zen as yet.

Apparently far too much barely repressed work rage simmering beneath the calm surface. So the occasional minor eruptions still occur leaving near innocent victims scorched in the fiery aftermath.  

Mindless rage!

Though much less regularly in comparison to my... more incendiary youth. Hell, I even had one of my infamous psychotic breaks for quite a while! Quite a few of my past colleagues would be amazed at what I allow to pass these days with barely an irritated frown, when similar exchanges in the past would have had me immediately combusting into a searing Vesuvius. Time does mellow even the most irritable volcanoes.

However even the mild spurts of aggravation that spill out occasionally still manages to sting the relatively thin-skinned locals here. According to my nurse Miranda Merry's daily weather reports, some of my nurses are actually afraid to call me - since I tend to bark on the telephone.

Nurse : Hello? 
Paul : What the hell do you want? 
Nurse : I.. umm..
Paul : Could you speak up? I seriously don't have all day. 
Nurse : There is a patient here. 
Paul : Obviously. I don't think you were trying to sell me some insurance. 
Nurse : No, I don't mean to say ...
Paul : You're getting to be a bore. Obviously it can't be that much of an emergency if you can chatter on about rubbish. 

Yes, I have zero phone etiquette.

Obviously not zen enough - even though I am actually so much nicer these days. Really! Seriously nothing close to the scalding comments I used to make at work leaving suicidal interns weeping piteously in my wake. Oh please, even my relatively benign snubs these days are ouchie hurtful?

Fortunately they didn't know me during my monstrous heyday. 

Hollywood action blockbusters would have you think that hiding out as a wanted fugitive doesn't take much more than a cheap haircut, an unwashed hoodie and a hunched posture.  Or else the infamously paltry disguise used by Clark Kent with his rumpled locks and thick glasses.

Seriously who could ever mistake that bohunk body even hidden under layers of overly large mismatched office attire.

Who are we kidding? With almost everyone - even spoilt lil rugrats these days - having the latest cellphones / tablets with easily available internet access at hand, it's nearly impossible to hide. With near indispensable social networks linking everyone we know - and a few million we don't - such as Facebook, we can practically forget about anonymity.

Waitaminute, haven't I seen those legs on Facebook?

Especially when you have an eminently recognizable visage like mine. So much for keeping a somewhat low profile here.

Paul : Do you have any questions regarding this procedure?
Patient : Umm... do you mind me asking?
Paul : Fire away.
Patient : You're the Dr Paul on facebook right? 
Paul : Well, yes? 
Patient : Yeah, I knew I recognized you. You're Charming Calvin's friend, right? 
Paul : Well, yes!

There was a telling glance and a barely concealed smirk that let me know that she must have vaguely guessed the illicit connection between us.

Is it my hawkish nose? How did she distinguish my seemingly below average face from the dozens out there - especially since I have a shockingly tiny picture insert?  Did I have an abnormally large pimple?

Turns out having a Facebook account can be doubly dangerous these days. While we're relatively caught up in other people's mundane daily minutiae on their Facebook and Tweets, we sometimes blithely forget that others might be similarly stalking us as well. Not the first time it happened to me since a few months back, I actually got poked - both online and offline - by a total stranger who claimed he managed to identify me from Facebook. Seems we had more than a gay cruiseload of mutual friends in common.

And he even recognized me from several hundred metres away in an airport!

Thankfully he was really cute which helped diminish the creepy stalker vibe he'd have otherwise. Whoever said being pretty wasn't useful?

It's my brother's wedding anniversary today. 

Awfully clichéd but yes, time really does fly! Has it really been more than a decade of marriage? Way back then... in the early primeval internet years, there was no facebook to share, no tweeting to hear of and certainly no blogs to read. Well hardly any blogs, not even mine.

So it didn't surprise me much when my permanently-logged-on sister-in-law sadly mourned the lack of online testimonials to remind her of that special day.

Sue : Damn. I should have blogged about it. 
Paul : You still can. Why don't you just blog about it now and tell us what you can recollect about the day. In retrospect you might look at things differently.
Sue : Alamak. Hardly any time to sit down and recollect!

A pity since it was certainly a memorable day. Since Sassy Sue has decided to keep her reflections to herself for the moment, I might as well share my own recollection of that fateful day more than a decade ago.

First thing I could recall was the fact that my brother was getting married. Like seriously? Sure he's always been shockingly staid, sober and steady.... but settling down? Whoa, what next? Kids?

Second was - of course - that I was wearing a suit. Not often I get the chance to wear it back then. Wore it a couple of times before - my graduation, my brother's wedding pics and a couple of formal dinners.

Thirdly was the amazement at the number of people my astonishingly gregarious parents knew. Weren't my parents antisocial hermetical homebodies? Seemed like they'd practically invited half the town - and the other half had come by to see what's up. Helping out with the ushers at the door, I barely recognized the strange unfamiliar motley crew that came straggling in to the wedding.

Damn, I look good in a suit.

About the wedding dinner itself? With almost my entire extended family in attendance - and Sassy Sue's even larger contingent, we had nearly five hundred guests in the hall. Obviously wildly unnerving to my sister-in-law! Early in the morning while Sue was still getting her hair done, she had her first military briefing with the entire wedding party from the emcees down to even the tiniest flower girls. I recall a couple of coour-coded folders with specific orders written on them.

Yes, Sue was that nervous. Unlike the plainly ecstatic groom beaming from ear to ear, the anxious bride hardly smiled though. No doubt common in most weddings! Wanting every last bit of the wedding to be picture-perfect like the perfectionista she was, Sue could hardly contain her jangly nerves.

Don't blame her though since I would probably freak out over every last minute detail down to the very hemlines on the dinner tablecloths. With the crazed bitch-fits gay men are prone to, doubt I'd be the first groomzilla ever.

Being forced to daintily nibble during the main course must have given Sue the jitters as well. Pristine white ballgown with elbow length silk gloves tends to curtail gorging on the sumptuous ten-course meal. Thank God guys get to wear suits.

Overall what did I think of the day? Of course I was wildly happy. It was a good day. My brother was getting married. My parents were happy. All my relatives were present. Hell, even my ex was lurking close by. And damn, I'd almost finished a year of grueling housemanship. :)


It was good.

Just like the warrior Achilles had his vulnerable heel, Lady Macbeth had her stained hands and Superman has his radioactive Krytonite, even the seemingly invincible Madame Borgia - that infamous mother-in-law of mine - has a shocking little weakness of her own.

Something almost microscopic, readily available and seemingly negligible. Almost! But just a trace amount is enough for the usually unflappable Madame Borgia to stumble helplessly into mindless hysterics.

And that's monosodium glutamate. Otherwise known as the humble MSG, so very much beloved by thriving Asian restaurants around the globe. Though obviously not on such convivial terms with Madame Borgia, apparently quite the unyielding nemesis since the redoubtable lady shrieks stridently whenever even a hint of MSG makes an appearance. Increasing ... *ahem* maturity has turned our Madame into quite the health-conscious ascetic with a zealous appetite for only the blandest of fine foods plucked from organic farms raised with warm sunshine and tender loving care.

Don't even get me going on Madame Borgia's long-standing though ultimately futile battle with fatty cholesterol-laden pork. Haven't tried it but always wondered whether she'd melt into a screaming puddle if I tossed some MSG at her.


Seriously, when did sandwiches and salads become so damned popular? 

A freakish health-nut obsession that seems to have spread its malicious claws into her susceptible son, Charming Calvin. Lack of a visible partner, a love-hate relationship with his much abused automobile and near financial insolvency has turned him into something of a social recluse of late.

Paul : You're at home?
Calvin : Yes. Taking dinner.
Paul : Not going out for dinner?
Calvin : Cooking at home. Or maybe make a sandwich. 
Paul : Just go tapao from outside.
Calvin : Eating food cooked at home is healthier.
Paul : OMG. I can't believe you just said that!
Calvin : Why?
Paul : You're turning into your mother!

Seriously. Someone get him out of that house and away from the horrifying salad-sandwich combo. 

Gotta say I've pretty much given up on chasing technology - lamentable techno-himbo status notwithstanding.

Just imagine less than two decades ago, a touch-screen tablet would have been something wondrous right out of Star Trek itself! And these days, we even have handsy toddlers playing with the latest iPads.

Well I'm done with this. Time for a new toy!

Phew! Other than secretly inventing the latest wondrous contrivance yourself - and hiding it, is there any practical way to outrun the rapidly evolving high-tech world? New contraptions and appliances come our way almost every quarter. Barely a week after purchasing what could be termed the latest technological gadget fresh from the store, you can be pretty sure some obscure high-tech factory in China is already busy churning out the bits and bytes of the next awesome generation. These days, the Ver 2.0 or even 3.0 of almost everything seems to pop up on the market almost instantaneously.

Obviously a boon for our increasingly frenzied generation of rabid consumers. Just look at the familiar queues patiently waiting in line outside retail stores for the first crack at the latest tech-gizmo, whether cellphones, tablets or software. Some fanatical enthusiasts even resort to camping outside just to be the first in line.

Felix : OMG the new one is out! I must get it.
Paul : Even though nothing much has changed? 
Felix : It is newer. 
Paul : So what will happen to your old one?
Felix : Nothing.
Paul : You'd chuck it?
Felix : Yeah. Like you should chuck yours. 
Paul : Even though it's still functioning perfectly? 
Felix : Yes, trade it in for something new and better!
Paul : And shinier of course. 
Felix : Of course.
Paul : It's not a necessity.
Felix : But it's so pretty!


Toys for the big boys and all that.... they just gotta have it. And Felix isn't the only one. If Charming Calvin didn't have his avaricious hands tied with financial constraint, no doubt he'd be out purchasing the latest models as well.

But seriously, what a waste of money and resources. Dumping the old geezer into some dusty forgotten corner the moment the new edition arrives at the doorstep? Exactly what happens to all the abandoned gizmos and gadgets?