I'm Moving

come over to www.jazzmoney.wordpress.com

I have moved!

How Jazzmoney can be a girl.

1. Jazzmoney likes girly drinks like pina colada, wine cooler and strawberry daiquri.
2. Jazzmoney likes to look at pretty bags.
3. Jazzmoney loves shopping.
4. Jazzmoney gets cranky when filthy men leave the toilet seats up.
5. Jazzmoney cannot separate love and sex.
6. Jazzmoney makes breakfast and calls the morning after.
7. Jazzmoney wears pink t-shirts.
8. Jazzmoney has a gay best friend.
9. Jazzmoney has long nails on his right hand.
10. Jazzmoney sulks when he doesn't get his way.
11. Jazzmoney listens to sappy love songs.
12. Jazzmoney watches chick flicks *ehem* I mean, romantic comedies.
13. Jazzmoney likes tea parties.
14. Jazzmoney likes to gossip.

Maurina, for your benefit. Can I come now? Please please please. Pretty please with ice cream on top?

*disclaimer- If any of the above points makes me sound like a real sissy, they're not true. If it scores brownie points with you girls, it's true.

Home

We did it. We managed to get up and drag our sorry asses to Changi in time, well, almost in time. We were so close to having our names called out on the passanger manifest! And there was that hot girl sitting across the aisle from me and I swear I know her from somewhere. But how lame would a line like "excuse me, do I know you from somewhere" be? :)

Anyway, it's great to come home to almost no haze, $3 cigarettes and escalators that move at a normal speed. Brunei's a chicken coup, but it's MY chicken coup! Nowhere else do I feel like this after a trip other than Singapore. There's something about that place I don't quite like, I can't put my finger on it.

But one other good thing about the trip is I managed to jam with two jazz greats. I've never felt so inadequate in my life! So to Aaron and Dave, if you're reading this, thanks guys! You made my day :)

Lizzie, I am NOT feeling better. That's jazzmoney-speak for I'd like your messenger *grins*

Singapore v2.1

Finally got to Jazz@Southbridge last night (or was it the night before?)
And the very next day, who should I meet other than Aaron Caucasian and David African-American at the music store.
Got conned into jamming with them.
Pleasure - The honour of playing with musicians of their caliber is simply, well, mind-blowing!
Pain - Must've made a complete idiot out of myself...

The YMCA kicked me out. KICKED me out. Sheesh...
Staying put with a friend for the night. Well, it's almost 3am and we're still gonna watch Smallville before going to bed and getting up by 6.30 to the airport.
Looks like there's gonna be a major snore-fest on SQ182 later.

Next stop- HOME! WOOHOO!

Singapore v.2

I've found two free wi-fi spots.
1. McDonald's (but they want your email first. God knows how much spam I'll logging on!)
2. My buddy's house *grins*

Beyond that, my MacBook Pro is an expensive (and heavy) piece of dumbell to carry around...

The YMCA is a hotspot too. SGD24 for two hours and SGD30 for 24 hours....

In any case, this trip is a little weird. First time in Singapore being single. Urbangem seems to be too busy with her beau to care about this small town boy. Instead of going to BOAT QUAY to look for Jazz@Southbridge, I found my way to CLARKE QUAY instead. I'm hopeless...

LSM,
Yeah! Tell me about it. Next thing you know, Coffeezone and CoffeeBean'll be doing the same thing!
The epicentre at wheelock place is so much nicer than av, don't you think? I was like a baby in a candy store.
By the way, I read your article. Good stuff. Congratulations and keep 'em coming!

Lizzie,
The one on my back eh? Yeah, I almost gave up on that one. I got it done with Richard from Johnny Two Thumbs. Good guy. Wherever I am in the world, I fly to Singapore just to get a tattoo done by him. They're a little more expensive than the rest of the guys here but hey! If it's on you the rest of your life, you might not want to risk it to scrimp a few bucks right? :)
I spent a total of about four and a half hours. More on the one on my ankle. The one on my back was relatively quick. And he didn't use any outlining on that one. Just the shading tool. I'm done. No more tattoos for me. I told myself long time ago three is enough and I've got three now. So there.

Singapore

In Singapore. Looking for FREE Wifi spots is horrible. I've found one. Lizzie, for your benefit, the tattoos.

Talk again soon as I find another hot spot.

Emotional Attachment

I don't understand. I really don't. I thought of him like my little brother, like How.
And like How, I try and nurture. Try and teach, try and impart whatever I know. Tell them whatever mistakes I have made in the past so that THEY don't make the same mistake. After all, to make the same mistake twice would be stupid wouldn't it? And a series of events all leading to the same conclusion would give you the same mistake.

My intentions are good. My methods aren't. Perhaps. I don't know. But I've spent a lot of time of these two boys. To make sure they don't go astray. I've placed my hopes on these two boys. Granted, How more than Jal. But he's my brother. And the other one, well, is sort of a brother. I look after him, keep him out of trouble. Try and make something out of this boy who came to me for help years ago. Was that a mistake?

After the departure of Dad, I try and make up for not having a father around. The son atones for the father's sins. For many years, I resented the fact that this is happening to me. But after years of kicking myself in the head, thinking maybe it was my fault, I realised it wasn't. It was NOT my fault that they had to fight and make life difficult for their children. Maybe they understood the fact that because they could not settle their differences, their sons would be affected. Maybe or maybe not. Whatever the case may be, it had been done and it was NOT my fault. But I felt it was something I should try and prevent from happening to other people. Who wants to feel lonely and betrayed as a kid?

However, it was not a chore. Not something I dreaded. In fact, for some time, it was the only thing that gave me a purpose. I want to do for them what my father never did for me. Did Dad leave because he could foresee this happening? Did he see what I wanted to shut out from seeing? That some people ARE hopeless and that the responsible thing to do was only going to hurt you in the end? Was I dumb in the sense that I did not select carefully? That whatever one does, it CANNOT make a difference.

I try and be a good man. As good as circumstances allow me. I pay my bills. I send my brother to college. And most of all, I try and leave a positive impact in all lives I touch and those that touch mine. This and many other goals, I have succeeded.

But I have failed in something bigger. The person I chose to mould, to change, to improve; cannot be moulded, changed or improved.

My dear friends, I am, perhaps, an egoistic person and I will be first to admit- that whatever I do for him, is mainly, out of self-satisfaction. So that I know that I CAN make a difference. But if a by-product of my ego is someone who comes out moulded, changed and improved over his old self, is that not a good thing? May I be condemned?

I fear the day that am no longer useful because that day, I will be deserted again. I do not fear commitment, I fear betrayal after a commitment. Emotional attachment results only in pain, today proves it.

I rarely shut my mouth, yet, today, like so many years ago, when Dad left, I am not sure I can talk about what I feel.

My intentions are good. My methods, it seems, are not.

Two tattoos.

That's it! I've called Richard and I'm getting two, TWO tattoos. One on the ankle and another on the back, just below my right shoulder.

The pain... I'm actually looking forward to the pain...

Momento Mori

It's settled. I have yet to call Richard, the tattoo artist. But I'll be popping by Singapore soon enough and getting myself inked.

Momento Mori - Remember that you must die.

Remember that you must die... Negative? Never! It's a reminder that we have this one life and we ought to live it well. I have decided. I shall try and live life as such that I have no regrets, whether I die or live tomorrow.

Momento Mori!

I didn't bring flowers

When I first started this blog, I told myself I will not blog about details in my personal life. After all, we've got too many skeletons in the closet. Skeletons that we would prefer not make public. Skeletons that belong in a diary, not a public blog.

But there is a first for everything, I've been told. This will be my first.

I went to Aunt Grace's grave yesterday, primarily because I haven't been visiting for sometime now. The fact that it was a public holiday didn't seem to hurt.
The tradition is to bring flowers, but I didn't. I didn't think it mattered much and I couldn't find florists that open on a public holiday. Bad mistake. The last time someone brought flowers was my brother's visit a month ago.

Aunt Grace was somewhat of a vain person, who was always meticulous with appearances, both of herself as well as everyone she cared for. The wilted flowers meant only one thing- I failed to bring her flowers. I couldn't help but cry. I haven't cried since she died last year. I barely made it back to send her off. I was busy frolicking all over South Africa while she was bedridden in the hospital. I barely made it back to give her the ostrich egg she wanted.

Did I do enough for her? Am I doing enough for my family? I've caused more than my fair share of heartaches for them. Have I done enough to make up for it? I made the wrong trade-off years ago when I was younger and more reckless, trading family time for my career. Have I changed enough to make up for it?

I didn't bring flowers....