filth (don't read you prudish lot!!!)

My HK-chinese friend Edmund visited Manila weeks ago. He asked for an advice as to the hotspots (Gay places) in Manila. To be honest, I don't think I'm as good as Spartacus International Gay Guide but friends gossiping about these places helped me with some of the possible options. A week ago, I received an email from him saying, "I really enjoyed my holiday la. So much to tell you!".

Ahhh. The joy of cheap meat.

weds lunch

This is part of my holistic drive to cut unnecessary expenses. Gelo made an aubergine-minced meat stuff and I teamed it up with hospital mashed potato. The viand was amazing but sadly, the mashed potato tasted like paper (I should know, I used to chew paper when I was a petulant tyke).

That's nearly £3 saved on lunch.

passionate

I am passionate about food. Sharing it with a dear friend is doubly fantastic (That's Tess in her nearly opaque presence - ignore the quality of camera). John Lewis (top floor resto) has that ambiance that could rival posh restaurants in art and elan. It's enticing enough to eat even if I was wrestling with the lamb shank with my fork and knife trying to de-bone it.

meet Erwin

My friend Erwin just went for an interview re: Managerial post in Haemodialysis. I saw him sat outside King's College chattering with another friend. He's dressed designer all over and notably, LV belt and messenger bag.

I lauded his dressing sense and in response he said, "If I don't get the job, at least I made an effort to look and feel good".

lack of sleep has repercussions

I was talking about Renal and Urology A&P this morning. Despite drowning myself with cups of coffee, I just couldn't help it but pinch myself to keep me back to the world of the mentally living. Halfway through the lecture, I stumbled upon a term I couldn't dig from my snoozing brain.

Me: blah blah blah. With the circulation of angiotensin II, it also triggers the release of .... of... of...(desperately searching for the right term).

Me: Any idea what this hormone is?

Class: Dead silence.

Me: Miss X? What do you think is responsible for Na reabsoption?

Miss X: Nods her head.

Me: Anyone? (I started stomping my left foot trying to recall the term - mouthing expletives inside my head in the process of digging).

FEW MINUTES LATER.

Me: ALDOSTERONE (I exclaimed as if I won the lotto)!

Class: Bamboozled look.

FUCK (I cursed my brain)!

Westlife - Gravity tour (i.e. falling back to Earth)

Westlife had two supporting acts (both Irish acts) before they appeared onstage with a rather uptempo number. I am not a follower of the band but I kind of lived their music years ago (when depression was more of my default mood). It's free ticket and Sunday outside the confines of my boxed living condition is always a brilliant idea.

An hour and a half later (after the opening acts), Westlife belted out familiar tunes (but with my own lyrical mutterings) to the raucous of the adoring fans. Half an hour later, my cousin Tess was sat on her chair playing bouncing ball (I don't know the actual name of the game) on her blackberry phone. It was TIME.

We entered Wembley Arena on a high and plummeted to Earth head first out of boredom. You've got to be a Westlife fan to stand the rigours of soporific ballads and cutesy stage choreography. This is in addition to getting the ticket for free that reduces the motivational factor of keeping heightened interest going.

I blame the ageing process. It changes the whole landscape of personal perception of adulation. It tends to be more acute as one grows old and quality is preferably a better avenue to decision-making. Fun, although a relative thing becomes more subjective in nature. I don't believe in compromise to minor things.

half-life Saturday

Today's a bit anticlimactic. The sun has disappeared after gracing London for few days. With it's hibernation comes the cold spell. I am just wearing a thin jumper and I don't have company to keep me preoccupied from having thoughts about the weather.

I am going home.

Although I love winter, getting four seasons in one day is way too much. It has a certain effect to my psyche. Gytis bailing out is another blow to the setting in of boredom. Having less friends than usual is obviously a constraint to social standing. It keeps me aware of time and events in a keen manner for there's nothing else to do and no one else to distract me from constant elements.

So I am going home.

freckles

...beauty or blemish?

wowoWii

Killing time with Wii is good.

But winning all the time can be rather boring.

take it from an Indian's perspective

I met up with Sheela and Jason tonight. Our conversation wandered from Metallica and Iron Maiden to floating casino. We covered all four seasons and drank a variety of liquids to mollify our cravings. We took photos and covered more stories in between munches and sips. We talked about cultures and how fascinating it is to be different. Then Jason said something I thought would be the statement of the night.

"Back home, we haggle a lot. Some friendships start that way and now, my parents are regular customers with this businessman for 25 years. Their business is like eBay without the internet".

anythin' everythin' French

I was listening to French music earlier today. There's something about the language that makes me feel special. It's as if I made it somehow to better myself in more ways than one. Please don't ask me what I meant by that. There's that je ne sais quoi. Listening to Yves Montand's version of Etrangere Au Paradis and Charles Aznavour's Sur Ma Vie was bliss.

Finer things in life are mostly French. Take this cake for instance from Patisserie Valerie.

queue

They are not queuing to buy basic amenities like water and canned goods (in case of any natural disasters). iPad2 is just creating an international stir. London is no exception.

I teach therefore

A practice teacher came in two hours before my big teaching session proclaiming that over 100 students usually attend the Nevin Hall presentations. He somehow sussed me if this would create uneasiness on my part. I didn't budge.

Back home, I remember teaching a bigger group. I emceed two Commencement Exercises for a University at PICC (Philippine International Convention Centre) years ago and I have been teaching since my early years as a thinking individual. This event surely wouldn't make a difference knowing that I even teach Post-Registration courses at King's College. What is another teaching session of a topic I could deliver even in my sleep?

OK. That's cockiness.

But truly, years of experience help. I went to deliver "Care of Renal Patient" for an hour and more than survived. The intimidation of that amphitheatre ambiance was temporary for I just went on my business of teaching as normal. The microphone on the podium took a bit of getting used to as I got insecure with that slight nasal tone emanating from my vocals. After the presentation was an applause and only then that I realised the group of educators from King's were in attendance. One of them approached me and said, "That was very good Ryan".

Few hours later and upon checking my work email, there's that email confirming what I'd like/love to hear and an invitation to do another session for the next term. A day later, my BOSS sent a congratulatory note for a job well done.

The reason for writing this blog is not all about gloating, glorifying and pampering my ego. I have already established my sense of egotistical existence and such belief within me is enduring, steady and stable. I am writing this because this is the time when I look at the line of my career path and I see not a dotted line to destination but a solid, bold line pointing towards education. I have reached that point of no return from impertinence and vagueness to relevance and clarity.

I know what I'm good at and singing is not a close second to it.

omgeee

Look at the state of our office.

If this reflects the state of our minds, then it's probably right.

watch this space!

damn that lift

7th floor has its perks.
Just pray that the lift doesn't die on you after a very long day at work.
It's a tedious trek.

when occasional sunshine graces London

************** part deux

Another strange day.

The fog has lifted and the mist that covered the verdant moss is glistening. It is as if mocking me for such naïveté for the eventual turn of season. The bluebells thriving along patches of green land are merrily musing about the game of whether a cloudy day would ensue or a sunshiny remainder of the day. I ask myself the same question and I don't have a clue to the series of unfolding events.

The squirrels are bickering about the last few fertile nuts but I distract myself with the hassle of deciding over a cashmere coat or the light jumper to wear to work. Weather forecast says 11C but London weather is strange.

I am strange and I feel that today.

*********

I have got a feeling.... and it is a strange one. I am drifting away. I don't know but I do. Is this transient? Is this something I need to worry about? Am I evolving into this person I dread myself to be?

Everything is a blur... A blur but an insight where I see the outline and shadows of a figure of an event, person or situation. I see the morning rays of sun penetrating through the fog but sense of clarity is muddled.

spring...

Sunday fireworks, cannon and classical music @ RAH

hope

It is nearly midnight and Gelo is arriving in few minutes time. I suddenly had few flashbacks. Years ago, I used to commute Hook/Basingstoke area few times a month and then, Heathrow/Luton/Stansted few times a year. Now, Liverpool Street Station is my unwanted haunt.

I really don't understand why I couldn't get a man within a five mile radius.

Let's think of possible reasons for this.

1. Innately, I'm not ready for anything full on
2. I am a slow starter
3. I get bored easily
4. I value my freedom
5. I use inappropriate gay social networking site
6. The idea of texting and phoning is appealing
7. Decent guys are outside London
8. I like challenge
9. I love traveling
10. London guys prefer one night stand and I don't
11. Fate

Whatever the reasons are, I am laden with one now. It has trained me well over the years but I now long for constancy.

turn of season

Spring is here (but the tail of winter is still whipping hard).



The sun's out and it's perfect for latte, sunglasses and my own company.

curtain

After several months of wetting the bathroom floor, I have decided enough is enough.

Bring in the shower curtain!

birit

detour

God... I have such a limited number of people to call on a weekend. My friendship circle had shrunk drastically that it's somewhat bothersome and unnerving. But this is self imposed in more ways than one imagines it to be. I say, I'm going through a phase.

That phase I certainly don't know.

Walking along Oxford street Friday night on your own is sad. No one is there to tell you how their week turned out to be and no one to tell you that the yellow watch is out of season. But the insistent clamourous me would argue that in a bickering way to the point of no compromise. We'd call it individual difference but it is futile since I'm on my own tonight.

I saw a 70% sale item at Burton (a native elastic bracelet) and was queuing for it to pay when I realised that I actually asked myself if the item was worth it. I muttered under my breath that sense of exasperation. I went to Uniqlo hoping for good bargains but the idea of asking my ego, id and superego for advice was instinctively stupid. I eventually decided to walk the entire length of the shopping street and headed for the bus stop where my bus would ferry me back home.

I phoned few people I know from my directory list for a weekend chitchat but just like me, they're somewhere laden with chores of domestication. I am old and my friends are now old too. Priorities have changed and lastminute planning doesn't bode well to an ageing circle of friends. Things are now planned carefully.

But I still believe in the randomness of events and decisions. A spatter of inconsistency is part of living.

define truth

It is true.

If one is successfully losing weight, everytime that person looks in the mirror there's nothing but a fat person is reflected back. Every morning before shower, I'd stand in front of the full length mirror and check my tummy. I always see a hefty person despite the 3-4x a day of crunches and healthy eating (debatable) habit. But even all that seem exiguous.

Today after eating well and working hard at the same time, I realised that I'm wearing my newly purchased on-sale polo shirt from Uniqlo and I must admit, this is the first time I'm wearing XS size. I must have lost weight. But (to prove a point) I don't feel it. Surely, I must have lost weight because even my XS polo is a bit airy and loose. There are other signs that point to the direction of weight loss. But my psyche is defiant. I am fat... I am fat... I am fat.... I swallowed Karen Carpenter and she's screaming inside of me. With constant bombardment, I have given in to the overwhelming notion that I am fat.

I just have to rationalise that this polo shirt must be defective. Ya'know, one of those times when a garment factory worker in China slips from the set standards of polo shirt-making. This is a cruel false hope that I indeed lost weight.

Oh shit!

ColorSplash

Have you downloaded ColorSplash app yet?

s-a-t-i-s-f-y-i-n-g

Visit Hing Loon.

I am not paid to say this but the service is good, the food is yummy (massive portions as well) and it's relatively cheap. It is located in Chinatown (adjacent to Prince Charles Cinema) and despite its central location, food's standard is high for a fair price. The staff seem friendly and the place is clean (particularly the toilet).

I blog about this place because it's rare that one's able to stretch a tenner (in fact 5.80 for a squid/rice combo) for a decent meal in Central London.

meet Tess

... and her Gucci knee-high boots.

go watch Meryl Streep instead

I'm on my way home. It is nearly half ten at night and all I could hear around me is the Irish accent in rambling drunken state. Surprisingly, it still sounds pretty to my tympanics. The assault of GREEN is lesser than last year but getting drunk seems to be as always, the order of the day to the deepest of the night.

HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S everyone!

I just came out of Prince of Wales theatre after watching Mamma Mia. This is the third time I've seen the musical and still, it is drawing crowds. The usual suspects are omniscient. You have the Abba fanatics of mainly middle-aged men and women and a big section of gay people. Now where do I fit in? Both I guess! I grew up to Abba's colourful world of melodies and of course, I am a proud homosexual.

That's not the reason however why I'm writing this. I want to open my critical gay mind to the musical that is Mamma Mia. It is expected that the popular songs would make one reminisce if not goad one to sing to oblivion and insouciance. This is why the musical is perfect excuse to watch when films showing in movieland are as interesting as the full moon that you see every month in your aloneness. There is a thin line that separates a karaoke night with sober friends and watching a less than par performance of the night of Mamma Mia.

Let's focus on less than par performance. Tonight, Donna (the mother) was nasal when singing a high alto note that it's like taking a dip in the pool and you get water in your ear. You try shaking that off with vocal vibrations and you sound like a whale. It wasn't helping since she had so many songs to sing and Abba being Abba, songs take the unpredictable (yet predictable) twists. It was painful to listen at times. Thanks god for the Dynamo (her back up girls) who drowned her mating call.

The other point to make is that... this is Abba music. It is popular music where it departs from the grandeur of vocal prowess and showboating, typical of WestEnd productions. There is not much you can do with it without trying too hard to fool yourself and the audience. Knowing that you have songs people can relate to is already half the battle won. All you truly need is a less mediocre of a singer to pull off the melodic intricacy of pop. This is without pun intended.

Back to the idea of fun and this musical is certainly a feel good escape from the mind boggling tube and bus rides around London ( tourists point of view) and the time-kill for those who work hard all day and find solace in the company of people who enjoy karaoke without getting red-faced for singing out of tune; a mere spectator to the bludgeoning of Abba hits. Harsh but I'm an Abba songs fan first, the group.... distant second.

But why on earth am I complaining. I didn't pay a penny for these STALL tickets and I got to stand up during an encore and danced to mass singing of Waterloo. It couldn't be that bad. A less discerning theatregoer would laud this musical to the hilt of gay adulation but there's a reason why the last time I watched this musical was donkeys years ago. I was forced to watch it by an ex-girlfriend who punched an old woman as she danced her cares away during the company's curtain call.

It's fun generally but the artist in me wants that woman replaced now. She'll find it easy to find a job where she's a woman pretending to be a man in a woman's frock. Whatever! Victor/Victoria comes to mind but with that nasal baritone voice, I don't think Julie Andrews would be pleased.

I think I am alone in having this sentiment. 95% of people cheering the cast would vouch that. I better shut up now.

hey hey r u ok?

I did the resus training for the Trust's staff early this week and it was tedious. Talking for hours and doing the practical bits were just exhausting. When I got home, I complained to a friend about this and he said, "After all that, did you enjoy teaching?".

I actually did.

I rest my case.

now laugh!!!!!!

TOURIST SPOT

This is spaghetti carbonara (just in case you don't know).

I like my carbonara with thick sauce, loads of meat and a massive dollop of parmesan. This one is not even close to being called a decent spaghetti and I paid over TEN POUNDS for it.

I guess the London Eye few metres away from this restaurant has something to do with the price... BUT I'M NOT A BLOODY TOURIST!!!!!


(RESTO NEAR THE EDUCATION CENTRE WHERE I TEACH)

stars

watch over me

solution

THIS WEEK IS A STRUGGLE FOR ME.

THERE ARE SET DEADLINES AT THE END OF THE MONTH RE: SLAiP (MENTORSHIP QUALIFICATION REVIEW) OF STAFF AND VENEPUNCTURE & CANNULATION DATA. EMAILING MANAGERS AND STAFF DO NOT CUT IT ANYMORE.

I NEED A MORE DRASTIC WAY OF GETTING ON TOP OF THIS.

I NEED A WHIP.

boozing

I survived the weekend.

It was a tension-filled three days and getting away from it with minor bruises/scratches was a miracle in itself. But as they say, there's nothing complicated and deplorable without the intervening good communication to placate if not solve a crisis.

I admit that my social skills must be at par with the notable social butterflies of the society for I'm able to jell well with people of varying ages and life's stature (please don't ask me to define this - take your own definition if you must). Ten people breathing and occupying the same space as I am in a 1-bed flat is truly a feat. Sharing ideas is in full flight when you have a multitude of mindsets. Keeping those ideas within the remit of full understanding of individual differences is in a way, the tricky bit. But this weekend no matter how tumultuous it transpired to be, was remedied by good ol' honest communication. The multiple layers of conflicts were resolved (albeit not in its entirety but ...) through the art of listening to personal differences and values.

I say this to all my students and colleagues at work ( as if they need telling). But if only the world listens then this is going to be a peaceful place to co-exist with people of varying cultures. But this is asking too much I guess.

For me, alcohol intoxication is a downer. At the same time, it forces me to be less selfish and think of the people and the planet we live in. There seems to be a fine line between hangover and world peace.

But seriously, I don't recommend boozing to achieve a full blown reflection.

the power

I have always wondered what it's like to have real powers. When I was young, I used to devour Marvel comics with so much gusto. I imagined being Professor X or Jean Grey. I also wondered what I'd do if I was Mystique. I never liked characters who wore capes when I was younger but getting more attuned to my own sexuality, I found Superman ideal and appealing. With him being indestructible was enough to coax me into wearing the S logo up to now. I love my Superman tee.

As I grow older, I find men with so much power less appealing. The evolution of power inside my head is slightly getting corrupted by the idea of money and political inclination. It is sad to know that we are now measured in this society by the bulk of our wallet, colour of our bank cards and material investments. Translating talent into something of monetary gain is GODLY.

When DC Comics Superman (vol. 2) #75 in 1992 ended Superman's reign (against Doomsday), I cried real hard. Megalomaniacs rejoiced. Nowadays they are manifested as bankers and politicians. They tear us apart as they amass economic powers.

Truly, I can't wait for another evolutionary measure.


I HAVE POWER - FIREPOWER.

one of many perks

Working for this Trust is rewarding. This particular institution is high caliber when it comes to research, patient care, education and technological advancement. With the advent of everything techie and scientific, it is still a relief that this TRUST believes in cultural awareness to staff.

In a matter of two weeks, I am again back to Royal Albert Hall for some culture. The best thing about it is the fact that I get to sit in front for FREE.

resuscitated

Despite the niggling ache at the back of my head (see previous post), I survived RESUS. After the adrenaline rush for 2 1/2 hours of non-stop teaching, I was back to stupor as I ate my lunch.

Right now, I just want to lie flat and visit dreamland... where people drink tequila and wine to their hearts' content and still able to go to work cheerful and most of all, productive.

waiting for godot ...

After a boozy weekend (2 big bottles of tequila for Friday night and 12 bottles of red and white wine for Saturday night), Monday becomes a test of endurance... stamina. I am staring at my shoes for the past half an hour trying to summon strength and mental alertness to survive my teaching session on RESUSCITATION this morning.

I feel sick.

to love

There flew the hummingbirds
across lands and seas
for the nectar
like the salmon wading
upstream treacherous rivers
for their lives.

There fell the last leaf
of the indomitable oak
for the tenebrous autumn
like your faith and love
inferred by constancy
and unwanted lies.

focus: the woman in red

She's perfected the shoulder move and the butterfly flaps. It's no surprising that she managed to clear the far right side of the dance floor because of that. You wouldn't want to report to work that Monday with a black-eye, would you?

Now, guess where she hid her mobile phone?