Chang Korean BBQ: Everybody Loves Bul-Gol-Gi

11th April 2008

"I see you're doing something very interesting," a rather short man in a crown of silver-grey hair said to her.

"Oh, I'm just taking some photos," she said sheepishly, "is it allowed?"

"Normally no," he said with a warm smile on his face, as I smiled to myself, looking down at the menu.

"Would you like to place your orders, sir?" he continued in his Korean-accented English. Perhaps you would like to try our specialty, the BBQ meat selection," waving his hand up and down the first page of the menu, proudly showcasing the already-too-tempting photos.

We heeded his advice with our mouths-watering in hunger as I looked around to survey the decor of the interior.

Located along the junction of Dempsey Hill, Chang Korean BBQ was a brightly lit affair with a traditional Korean touch. Suitably spacious with traditional Korean decor; dining areas lined with straw floor-mats, down to the authenticity in the utensils, Chang's was the most authentic Korean dining experience that I've stepped into outside of Korea.

Noticing that at least half the in-house crowd looked Korean, I turned to her and said informatively, "I think that if you see a lot of Koreans in a Korean restaurant, then it has to mean that the food is good," building up my own anticipation with the same sentence.

The traditional barrage of side dishes were laid out before us, ranging from the rudimentary Kimchi platter down to the more unexpected dishes such as freshly-sliced onions. I counted the total number of side dishes and realised that it totaled up to 9.

Complimentary Nine

"So is it true that in Korea, they eat Kimchi even for breakfast?" she asked, as she savoured the first piece of Kimchi.

"Well, I think so. From what I know, they serve Kimchi with EVERY meal." I replied. "But I think Chang is really generous."

"Normally, in Korea, or at least in the places that I dined in, they tend to serve 6 side dishes, sometimes only 3; but yeah, normally its these 6," I said, as I hovered my chopsticks over 6 of the 9 dishes.

The side dishes were tasty enough to get my non-believing stamp of approval. While not exactly a fan of fermented stuff (understatement), the Kimchi was authentic enough to match those in Korea despite being slightly less spicy; perhaps to attune itself to the more delicate local tastebuds.

A waiter stood at the table-side to lay out the platters of raw meat before us prior to starting the fires of the charcoal grill. Once appropriately warm, he started to place the slabs of raw pork onto the grill to cook it atop the steady flame.

Raw to Ready

Slightly taken aback, I turned to her and said, "You know, one thing I noticed about Korean food is that somehow, they seem to believe in you doing a bit of work to earn your keep before you actually get to eat."

She raised her eyebrows in curiosity.

"I mean, almost all their dishes require you to do something to it prior to eating. Like mixing the Bi-bim-bap or even the Nang-Myeon, down to cooking the meat in this, the Kar-bi; almost all the Korean dishes that I've eaten seem to require you to do bit of work," I said.

"Then again, maybe its because I was on a rather budget tour that we didn't have people to prepare the food for us," I said smilingly, as the waiter diced up the slab of now-grilled pork belly and placed it on our platters.

I took a bite of the piping hot pork slice, and was pleasantly pleased with the taste of the meat and the quality of the grill. But the real treat came in the form of the second slab of grilled meat, the marinated pork slice.

Full of marinated goodness and bursting with sweet honeyed-sauce, the marinated pork slice brought back all the wonderful memories that I experienced when I first ate the authentic Kar-Bi back in Korea 2 years back.

"So why do you have to eat it with lettuce?" she asked.

"It's just the way it is meant to be eaten, like the Chinese Ginger Chicken. Besides, it just tastes better," I said, as I sucked on the tightly rolled lettuce and pork roll.

"Mmm..." she said, in approval.

Suckers, Literally

"Bul-gol-gi," the waitress said, as she lifted the lid off the hot plate, presenting to us a feast for for the eyes.

Everybody Loves Bul-Gol-Gi

Beef broiled to a tender finish in the centre of a pumpkin, soaked in a pool of mouth-watering stew, my anticipation for the final dish of the night was the highest; hardly surprising, considering the surreal impression it left on me when I savoured an authentic sample of it back in Korea, making it my favourite dish for the entire vacation (with Kar-bi at a close second).

I took a whiff of the sweet aroma emitting from the hot plate, before picking a piece up with my chopsticks. A deadly concoction of the natural saltiness of the broiled-to-tenderness beef with the sweetness of the pumpkin, the Bul-Gol-Gi proved to be slightly sweeter than what I remembered, but still heavenly all the same. My taste buds erupted in joy at the rediscovery of a taste long-forgotten and I was instantly reminded why this was my all-time favourite Korean dish.

"Try it," I beckoned her, feeding her a slice of the tender-beef.

"Wow, its REALLY good," she said, once again convinced of the wonders of beef.

"Don't you find it difficult to hold the chopsticks?" I asked her halfway through the meal, with my hands obviously cramped from holding the authentic, flat, silver, metallic chopsticks.

"Not really," she said. "It was a little hard to pick up initially, but after a while, its just like holding any other pair of chopsticks."

"Well, I find it harder to hold than the normal chopsticks," I replied, still fiddling them in an attempt to find the best way to hold them.

"That's because you are not holding them correctly," she chided me. "Can you even grab the corn? At its breadth, not its length?"

"Of course," I said, demonstrating the finesse that I have accumulated with my chopsticks despite the fundamental posture error.

"Not bad," she said.

"Of course, I can even grab this," I said, attempting to grab the bean curd.

"This one will surely break when you grab it," she said.

She was right, I broke it into smaller halves with each iteration of my repeated fiddling. Finally I just poked my chopsticks into it from the centre and lifted it up, giving it the impression that I had grabbed it.

"Smart," she said, cheekily.

"You know what I really wanna grab?" I asked.

"What?" she answered.

I grabbed the lone pork rib off the charcoal grill and performed an all-too-familiar act... an act that commemorated the start of our beautiful memories...

Smoked-Rib, Literally

I'm Quite Sure that Says "Chang"

Another One Bites the Dust

26th March 2008

The lift ascended as I was still suffering from the fatigue of the staying up to reformatting and resusitate the PC from the fabled and much-feared "Blue Screen of Death" the night before. Still visibly distraught with the loss of the entire collection of photos that I had not backed up, I routinely tapped the card at the office entrance, and stepped into the office.

Instead of the usual cold, silence that filled the office, my colleagues were all huddled together and discussing something in mummers and whispers as I entered the office.

"Hey Jeremy, you're finally here. Go read your email." Viknash told me as he saw me at the doorway, with everyone else in the group focusing their attention on me as if to scrutinize my already-too-weary countenance. Sensing something ominous in the mailbox, I turned on my PC and waited in suspense as it started up.

"What could it be I?" I wondered to myself. "Another one of the Boss' crazy ideas that I might have to go into a long rebuttal over email again?" I thought to myself, as I opened my mailbox and waited for the mails to roll in.

I scrolled through the usual headings of worksheets before coming to a mail that was titled "Company Announcement." "Should be this one," I thought to myself as I rather sleepily clicked on the heading, and read the contents of the mail.

I was almost literally slapped out of my sleepy stupor when I came to the end of the mail, utterly jolted out of my disposition. Unable to believe what I jhad ust read, I decided to read the mail again, this time digesting EVERY single word as I read it.

But with each processed word, my breath only grew shorter and my heart only grew heavier; the shocking reality of the situation creeping in slowly and surely with each word. Coming to the end of the mail a second time, I reclined into my chair without a single word and without a single thought in my head.

When I finally managed to start formulating words again, I turned around and asked Henry, "Is all this for real?"

"Yeah, it feels like a very very bad dream," he said, with an awkward and forced smile on his face, visibly unable to properly channel his emotions as well. "The whole thing just feels so.... unreal."

Indeed it did, as questions started to fill my mind; the biggest of it being "Why...."

"Why now? "

"Why after all this effort?"

"Why after coming so close?"

Desperately, I went into the mailbox and double-checked the date of the mail, hoping to find a punchline or a hint that this was an April Fool's joke played in advance; yet Denial did not have the kindness to even humour me.

Janelle came into the office, more frantic and jumpy than her normal self; scurrying around the office and asking everyone, "How? How?" It was obvious that she too was blind-sided in the process of reaching this decision, alongside the rest of us. Afterall, who wouldn't be?

Considering the day before we were all just talking about the future of the company in an extended 2 hour meeting -- ways to extend the IP, possible plans if we were unable to get the manpower up to steam, the potential of being signed, business development ideas -- and the next day, an announcement of the company closing down was rained down upon us like a blue bolt of lighting.

As we continued to deliberate about the unfounded explanations for the reasons of closing down, the Boss came in looking surprising upbeat. "Is everyone here? Let's have a meeting to discuss the announcement," he said.

We gathered in the pantry, possibly for one of the last few times, as the discussion opened with a statement from the Boss. "I know everyone is shocked with the announcement, but let's face the facts: the current business model is DEAD. There is no possible way, with our current business model, that we are going to be able to ship the game by 2009. And its better to realize that now that later in the production. I mean, it was VERY difficult for me, after all the game is my baby..."

Indeed, it was his baby; but at the same time, it was everyone else's as well, especially mine, as I was the main creative force that drove the direction of the design and the gameplay. Spending countless hours on the daily commute analysing the potential pitfalls, standing under the running water in the shower generating new ideas, having numerous talks with my brother on the feasibility of the ideas; all in the name of the desire to produce a great, if not an "at least 7.0 game."

He continued to speak at length about the other reasons as to why he made the decision that he made... "I know that the move is a radical one. But many times, you look back at the situation later and you'll be glad that you made actually made such a radical move."

"Yes. Some times, when a computer has a lot of problems, the best way to fix it is to reformat the entire computer," Henry added, as I looked at him as if he were a fucking retard.

"Yes. Good analogy," the Boss said in acknowledgement.

"Why now?" I asked the Boss, finally being able to consolidate all the running thoughts in my mind into two words. "I mean, do you really feel that this is the worse period of time for the company? Considering that we have gotten so far, developed a demo that publishers like and are this close to actually signing with them?" I asked.

And this quickly turned into a 2-way discussion as with each answer he gave, I questioned further, until a point in time when a fellow colleague told me, "Forget it, Jeremy. It won't make a difference," that I felt that I had just hit a brick wall and utterly stopped short in my inquisitive tracks.

"So, in the next 30 days, let's try to discuss some ways in which we can actually relaunch the company. If we can find a solution that is able to generate revenue, one that is able to restore the confidence in the shareholders, then the money will roll in and there will be a possible company relaunch. I would like to to add that everyone here has the possibility of being hired under the new company, as long as it makes sense to the new business model of the company," the Boss said.

"Let's all try not to be too depressed about the entire situation," he said, with a grin on his face, masking the deep sorrow that pierced through his dark brown eyes. He was probably as distraught about the entire situation as the rest of us, but forced himself to play the visionary leader that he tried to be for one last time.

Many people took off after the meeting, seeing no point staying if they were unable to work for the rest of the day. I arrived at my exceptionally late noon timing, but was told that I could leave around 5 if I wanted to.

I spent the rest of the hours mulling deeply over the shock, thinking of all the potential lost in the flash of an executive decision. I started organizing the material that we had worked on in the past 7 months for accountability and for portfolio purposes, but felt something pulling at my heartstrings as I dragged each file into the folder.

I always knew that the entire industry was a high-risk one, especially in the local scene. But I was always under the assumption that the Boss had too much pride to worry about the cost as to which he would have to go to in order to be able to ship the game. But obviously, this was merely an optimistic assumption on my part. But still, even if the company were to close her doors, I expected to have had to at least go down fighting, and would have had been able to anticipate it at least, rather than getting emotionally assassinated with a clean slice to the jugular.

As I switched off the lights before leaving the office, I instinctively turned to look at my desk, and I saw something... I saw myself, or at least, an image of myself. An image of the night before, as I bent over the desk, sketching out a design idea under my own shadows all alone in the warmly lit office, particulary proud of the award-winning design I was able to formulate and hoping to put a close to the design of that particular room before I called it a day.

The image slowly fizzled out into blinding specks of dust as the lights dimmed and greyed while the entire imagery grew too blurry to distinguish. And there I was, standing all alone in an empty office, with the shadows overhanging on the walls of the office as a result of the setting sunlight that streamed in, staring straight at an empty chair and a surprisingly organized desk.

I took a disappointing sigh of resignation as I turned my back towards my table, pulling the heavy glass door and stepped out of the office.

...The Dream was Over.

Town Restaurant: 6 Rounds About Town

14th March 2008

"Why did you turn in here?" she asked, as I turned into the carpark.

"Because I need to park," I answered naturally. It was only moments later that she realised that she had been tricked. But the expression she wore on her face as we were making our way into the grand halls of the Fullerton was hardly that of anger or disappointment.

"I have a reservation under the name of Mr. Jeremy Kang," I told the receptionist.

"Sir, it was at 7pm," she replied in hidden exasperation.

"Well actually, the guy who took my call didn't exactly ask me for a time, so I just assumed that I could walk in at anytime." I replied not the least bit sheepishly.

"This way, please," she said in resignation as she showed us to our seats.

We made our way to a little sofa seat by the corner and took a garner at the decor to absorb the ambiance. Somewhat different from the romantic orange-yellow lighting that we had been accustomed to after the last few romantic dinners, the Town Restaurant was a brightly lit affair with most of the customer base clustered in groups more so than couples.

Peering out of the window gave us a tinted view of the Lovers' Bridge that spanned across the Singapore River, while a wall of water fountains laid the view for the window at the far end; giving the restaurant and classy yet casual and comfortable setting.

All Ready to Go

But my attention quickly shifted to the circular black-marble tables laid out nicely in the middle of the restaurant. "Let's go see what they have darling," I said, as I took her hand in mine.

Ambient and Appetizing

All waiting to greet the glamorous couple were all manner of sea creatures and all their sweet-tooth-satisfying friends. All manner of salads, side-dishes, seafood and sweets, prepared in a range of internationally different styles, wetted our appetites and more than did justice to the "Seafood Buffet" label.

Fully aware of our limited stomach-capacity versus the almost unlimited choices before us, we decided to take things systematically and make variety the order of the day, as we picked of dishes from the "Cold Dish" section to start as our appetizers.

I expectedly picked a platter full of all manner of salmon while she picked a plateful of poultry salad. It was a light affair on both sides, as we sampled the dishes off each others' platters. Of note were the Duck Salad and of course, the different variations of the smoked salmon, but of course, that is coming from an avid salmon fan, such as yours truly. The crab salad was a little bitter for my taste, but the spoonful of Salmon Tartar was a delight to the senses.

"Happy 6 months darling," I said, as I raised the Salmon Shot glass in partial jest.

"Happy 6 months," she replied. As we brought our glasses together and downed the bits of Salmon soaked in what tasted a little like Orange Juice.

Indeed, this was how we started out in our first month, a light, non-committal affair, that was meant to be light-hearted and fun, as I remember telling the captain at Al Dante, "Give me a moment while I go fetch my girlfriend," with doubts lingering in my head after uttering the very last word in that sentence...

We made our second round about the marbled-circle and took a platter full of fresh seafood off the ice bed, stacking our plates with all manner of oysters, lobsters, prawns and other shellfish.

I personally relished the shellfish served plain, such as the oysters and prawns, so that I could savour the sublime taste of freshness of each dish more apparently; whereas she, as usual, preferred the dishes drenched in the flavours of a thick sauce, especially the mussels.

"Mmmm, I love the taste of lobster, its like eating a super-sized prawn," I told her as I took the first bite after finally digging it out of its shell.

Indeed, such was the case in our second month, when we finally decided to come out of our emotional shells and commit to the more official terms of a "relationship" after 2 months of skirting around the issue. I remember asking her, "So do you wanna be my official girlfriend," moments before taking a huge bite into the smoked ribs at the Black Angus. Only to have her answer at the end of the night...

"So what are you gonna take next?" she asked.

"The hot dishes," I replied, picking off 1 portion out of almost every dish in the semi-circle that lined the central marble table.

While the Tortellini was a little too starchy for both our tastes (and a waste of space compared to all the rest of the more prized dishes), the Japanese Croquette left an impression with its nicely complimenting sour plum sauce, while the Grilled Cod tantalized with its smooth texture and piping hot temperature. But it was a good change of pace (and taste) to savour some food that warmed up the taste buds after 2 rounds of cold dishes.

Indeed, it was in the 3rd month that the Flames of Romance were lit, as I remember the look in her eyes and the smile on her face while the trio serenaded a love song at the Top of the M. And such is the warmth of memories such as these when they are recollected...

Cool and Contemplative

"You want some fried pork, Sir?" The chef at the counter asked as I peered over, trying to figure out what was being served.

"Sure, why not?" I said, as I carried on to pick off more dishes as she turned on the gas.

Round 4 was a decided change of style, as I selectively picked off a more Asian spread, consisting of Tempura Prawns, Chee Cheong Fun and of course, the said Teppanyaki Pork. Fried to a delicate texture and soaked in a brown sauce, the Pork ousted the Tempura spread to become the star of the round. Well, guess sometimes, it sure pays being late for the show, as there is just something about the dishes that are cooked and served to you on the spot that standout from the rest of the buffet fare; and in this case, the pork stayed true to this belief.

Indeed, there are times when being "late" also prove to be far more valuable that "never"; as I remember during our 4th month, we already missed the celebration date by almost a good 2 weeks, and I remember insisting on taking her out for dinner despite her repeatedly saying "it's ok, we don't have to celebrate." I'm glad we did, as even though we missed the actual date, the more important thing was that the significance of the occasion was cemented into the thresholds of time...

"You know, I'm almost full." she said, with a bloated and exasperated look on her face.

"Actually, me too." I said. "Think I'll go one more round before we go for dessert." Returning with a platter of Sashimi after having said that, while she returned with a bowl of Tom Yam Soup.

The Tom Yam Soup was suitably watered-down to cater to the less-seasoned tastebuds of the foreign patrons who might be interested to savour a bit of Thai cuisine, but yet, might not be able to fully withstand its normal potency.

Humble on Hesitant

I grabbed a piece of Salmon Sashimi with my chopsticks and put it to her mouth.

"C'mon, try it." I said, as she reluctantly opened her mouth to chew on the fresh, orange piece of Raw Salmon.

"See, its not THAT bad right?" I asked, as she continued chewing, before finally nodding slightly.

"Wanna try the rest of it?" I asked, pointing at the different manner of raw tuna, raw squid and raw yellowtail.

"No, I only dare to eat the squid. The rest of it still looks too gross to me, especially the red one." she replied with wry lips.

"You're such an idiot, not knowing how to appreciate such extravagant food," I said, stuffing a huge juicy piece of Chutoro into my mouth.

Indeed, Extravagance had always been the order in this relationship, and the single-most extravagant act had to be Valentine's dinner at Morton's of Chicago. Despite single-handedly burning an almost 6-foot-deep hole in my already too shallow pocket; after it is all said and done, I still strongly reckon that the extravagance was well-worth it, all in the name of Experience and Memories...

"I think I'm done," I said. As I finished the last piece of Sashimi.

"Let's go take the dessert," she said excitedly. She had always been this way, always looking at the desserts long before the start of the meal proper.

"Why do you always look at the desserts before even looking at the food?" I asked.

"Well, because the desserts are very pretty, and it makes them look really yummy," she replied idiotically, while I wondered about the irony of me being called "shallow."

We picked off all manner of cakes and pastry, and came back with 2 platters full of diabetes-inducing sin. The Chocolate Mousse, the Creme Brulee, the Pecan Pie, the Banana Crumble, the Mango-Chocolate Mousse, the Oreo-Chocolate Mousse and the Green Tea cake were more than enough to satisfy a month's worth of sweet-tooth callings; but it was the Cheesecake with its smooth texture and hard biscuit crust that really made the perfect finish to a night's delight to the tastebuds.

"Crap, I'm like SUPER full. I think I can't even stand up." I said.

"Me too. Feel damn full after I drank that last glass of water," she said, as she took the camera and started scrolling through the photos.

After laughing at some of the more amusing shots, she suddenly turned the camera off while we were still halfway into browsing through the pics we took.

"Why did you turn the camera off?" I asked her.

"Cos looking at the food now makes me so full that I feel like puking," she replied.

Filled to the Brim

Indeed, 6 months in and the sweetness still spills over.

7-Year (B)Itch

29th February 2008

"Hello, hello," she said repeatedly, with a smile brightly lighting up her face as she took her seat at the other end of the table.

"Oh, Hi Stella. So how's the wedding? Saw the pics on your Facebook...." Her words slowly faded into the background, as my subconscious took over, and I started scrutinizing the changes on her countenance.

"Oh, Pamela, how have you been? What are you doing now?" she asked eagerly as I continued to sip my Lime Frozen Daiquiri. Time hasn't been particularly kind to her; while still largely recognizable in an instant, closer scrutiny only brought to my attention the changes in the details, particularly the loss of the youthfulness that was locked into my memories. Then again, it is hardly surprising considering it has been a good 7 years or so since I (or any of us, for that matter) last saw her.

She moved down one row of the table and turned to her other side, in shock, unable to recognize the face that was before her. "Deyao?! Wow, I can hardly recognize you, you've changed so much," she uttered.

"Then do you recognize him?" Jason asked, pointing in my direction.

I looked down at the table as I continued to sip my drink.

"Of course, that's the asshole, Jer. Of course I recognize him," she replied. And that was the beginning of the busy laughter-filled conversation that filled the empty halls of the Shanghai Bar on a Friday night.

We spoke of the present, as she wanted to know the gist of our lives; where we worked, what we did, what we were into, who we were seeing, and all the other needless details that only mattered because of the timeless friendship that we shared.

"So what do you do at work then? Just play games?" she asked me.

"Well, partially, but I prefer to call it Game Research," I replied with a slight grin on my face. "But I do a lot of other things too. I'm like an everything-man in the company."

"Oh really? Like what?" she asked skeptically.

"Well, I do presentations, documentation, creative work, and technical implementation; basically everything that sprouts from Design upwards."

"That doesn't sound that hard. You don't need to program or anything." she replied typically.

"Hah. That's where you're wrong. I needed the programming to understand the process and the logic that goes behind the development. Like the limitations for instance." I answered, eager to prove my point.

"Hah. Like what?" she asked, equally eager to disprove my point.

"Like fluids simulation...." as I went on a continuous rant of my knowledge to silence her while baffling the rest of the bystanders.

She was always this questioning, and some things never change.

We spoke of the future. With talk about career advancement, job prospects and (very scarily) marriage; roughly where were we all intending to be and what we hope to achieve in the next 1 or 2 years.

"Its just scary, to know all of you gals are getting married soon," I said.

"Why? What's wrong with people wanting to get married?" she replied.

"Well, for me, its like marriage is not even in the most remote recesses of my mind at the moment. There are so many other things I want to do. But I guess I understand, I mean for us guys, we still have quite a long ways to go; after all men are like wine, and we only get more refined with age. Well, for you gals, I guess most gals at 25 are already starting to realize that they are starting to go *ahem* over-the-hill, so its only natural that most gals at 25 already want to consider marriage," I explained dogmatically.

"My ass, man. Who the hell told you that?" she vehemently rebutted as she slammed down her beer mug. ""Men may be like wine, but women are like... like grass. We are evergreen."

She was always this argumentative, and some things never change.

Most importantly, we spoke of the past. And indeed, nostalgia ran thick as we collectively dabbled in our childhood memories. The catchphrase of the night had to be "Do you remember....", as we used this primer to recount the nitty-gritty details that littered our childhood days; from recounting the bad habits of the teachers that taught us, to our collective attempt in trying to recollect the faces and the personalities of the ex-classmates buried in the deep recesses of our memories.

We laughed about the acts of mischief we got ourselves into: pranks we played on the *ahem* less popular classmates (that were obviously not at the table), and even the rivalries and arguments between the few of us at the table. But the peak of the nostalgia had to be collectively piecing together our sitting arrangement back in Primary 5 for our entire column, filling in the blanks of the spaces in between us with the pieces scattered throughout our collective memory.

Indeed, Primary School was a memorable time; a simple and happy time, where we meant every sound of laughter and every tear we cried much more than we do now. We were far less political, with far lesser agendas, and far more sincerity. The only reason we clicked the way we did was simply because we wanted to; nothing more, nothing less. And while time and tide has pushed all of us in different directions in the Sea of Life, it is good to know that there are some bonds that at least thread on despite the turbulent torrents of Time.

As the clock struck 2, we were tired from laughing and consciously aware of our outstanding presence amidst the empty bar. We made our way out of the bar as she said her farewells; farewells that would at least last another year till she next returns to the island.

"Bye, Roder. It was nice seeing you." she said.

"Bye Jason, thanks for organizing this gathering. Take care of yourself," as she bid farewell to each individual.

Then it came to me.

"Bye, Jer. Stop being such an asshole."

Yep, indeed. Some things never change.

My Fare Lady

Mr. Snyde: You know what date it is today, the all-knowing Dr. Jerkyll?

Dr. Jerkyll: Of course. Its the 29th of Febuary, a rare occurance every 4 years, a leap year. Is there a point you would like to make in regard to this, Mr. Snyde?

Mr. Snyde: Well, nothing except the bugging question of why the hell are you reading Sunday's Lifestyle section 5 days late?

Dr. Jerkyll: Oh, that. Well, that is because there is this particular article that really caught my eye. One titled, "Do Singapore women expect too much?"

Mr. Snyde: Sounds interesting, rather unexpected of such an article to catch your attention, but still, hit me with what you've got.

Dr. Jerkyll: Certainly. The highlight of the article was a survey conducted on some Singaporean women. And the results are as follows.

[Flips open the newspaper]

Dr. Jerkyll: Ah here we go.... it says that 80 percent of Singaporean women expect their boyfriends to pay on dates and 92 percent of men will do so.

Mr. Snyde: Well, you can count me into the 92 percent of obliging gentlemen. Most of the time, at least.

Dr. Jerkyll: Ahem. 50 percent of the women expect men to open the doors to cars and restaurants and 88 percent of the men will do so.

Mr. Snyde: Hmm, this is a tough one. I do the doors to restaurants and all, but cars, well... not so much. But I guess more so than not, so you can count me into the 88 percent of well-mannered gentlemen.

Dr. Jerkyll: I didn't really ask for your involvement in this statistics, but well, no matter. 90 percent of the women expect men to send their girlfriends home after a date and 94 percent of men will do so.

My. Snyde: Oh, for this case, I'm in the 94 percent of thoughtful gentlemen who would ensure the lady's safety. Well... again, most of the time, at least.

Dr. Jerkyll: And "most" being the times which happen to be convenient for you I would suppose?

Mr. Snyde: Tsk, tsk. Details, details.

Dr. Jerkyll: Of course, just some selective omission of some rather "minor" details. Carrying on, 96 percent of women expect their boyfriends to initiate the celebration of special occasions such as anniversaries and birthdays and 92 percent of men will do so.

Mr. Snyde: Hah. This I can say for a fact that I am very much in league of extraordinary gentlemen that make up the 92 percent, considering my repeated emphasis on the meanings behind such occasions.

Dr. Jerkyll: Of course, not to mention the exorbitant amount you spend at each of these "culturally and metaphorically significant" events, to the extent that the annual amount of celebrations you end up paying for in 1 year, outweigh your partner by 14:1. The 1 being your birthday.

Mr. Snyde: Hah. But money is but material, my overly practical Dr. Jerkyll; the meaning behind such memories stretch far beyond the dollar. But still, its not like someone as out-of-the-field as yourself would be able to understand.

[Looks down at the newspaper and reads out in a louder tone than normal.]

Dr. Jerkyll: 88 percent of women expect their boyfriends to dress up for special occasions such as Valentine's Day and birthdays while 79 percent of men will do so.

Mr. Snyde: Hah. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I am in that 79 percent of well-groomed gentlemen, always dressed-to-the-nines with my hair almost always in perfect form, I'm sure even YOU cannot rebutt that fact, right?

Dr. Jerkyll: ....................24 percent of women expect their boyfriends to carry their handbags and 70 percent of men will do so.

Mr. Snyde: What? 70 percent of men are willing to be such idiots? I'm glad that I'm not one of these idiotic fools and I sure as hell am glad that ONLY 24 percent of bimbotic women have such expectations of their boyfriends.

Dr. Jerkyll: Amusing. So why are you not in the league of these 70 percent of extraordinary gentlemen then, my dear Mr. Snyde?

Mr. Snyde: Hah. The reason is simple, because I don't want to look like a stupid mofo carrying a gal's handbag and utterly ruining my previously mentioned always-dressed-to-the-nines image. There is a reason why I myself don't carry a bag, you know.

Dr. Jerkyll: So its all about the image then?

Mr. Snyde: Well, mostly. But a little bit because of the philosophy of "To each his own burden." And since I take it upon myself to minimize the things in my hands, why should I be covering the asses of gals who can't do the same, despite how pretty their asses might be? In turn, letting them enjoy the privilege that I spoil myself with my planned-minimalism at my expense.

Dr. Jerkyll: Unexpectedly convincing Mr. Snyde. You never fail to surprise me. But there is a greater point of worry here.

Mr. Snyde: What? What could be more important than looking like a stupid mofo?

Dr. Jerkyll: Well, if you would take a moment to step out of your over-indulgence yourself, then you would realise that the bigger issue at hand is actually the exorbitant expectation of Singapore women.

Mr. Snyde: So what bugs you so much then?

Dr. Jerkyll: Well, I'm a distinguished man of science and logic, and I admit that I have hardly any idea what goes behind the clockwork of romance, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see the flaws the in concept of "equality" and "equilibrium" here.

Mr. Snyde: What does equality and equilibrium have to do with this?

Dr. Jerkyll: Well, in equality, there is a measurement of fairness; both sides of the scale have to weigh out to be worth the same amount of salt. Considering the mantras preached by these women state that they are worth the same amount of social salt as their male counterparts, it is bitterly ironic that their expectations of treatment from their counterparts stretch well beyond the boundaries of Equality, transcending very much into the realm of being the higher beings, thus deserving of such positively-discriminatory privileges. And what drives you to succumb to bestowing such privileges on the ladies then, Mr. Snyde? If you would please indulge me.

Mr. Snyde: Well, for me, as much as I do see a gal as an equal on a mental and emotional level, I am still more than willing to go the extra mile to give my dates such privileged treatment; not not because they want and expect me to do so, but purely due to the fact that I think that they deserve to feel special.

Dr. Jerkyll: So you are saying that such privileged treatment from you is more like a gift, one on a more emotionally-resounding level, perhaps?

Mr. Snyde: Well, you can put it that way I guess.

Dr. Jerkyll: If that is the case, and if it is entirely out of free-will as you so say, then would it be perfectly fine for you to stop the emotional-generosity and decide to stop handing out such privileges, am I right? After all, if it is a gift, then the power is entirely upon the giver to decide when to give or to not give the gift, isn't it?

Mr. Snyde: Well, yes. Theoretically, that would be the case. BUT, I wouldn't be getting any skirts if I decided to do that.

Dr. Jerkyll: And why so?

Mr. Snyde: Because I would fall way be totally ungentlemanly and probably turn them off big-time.

Dr. Jerkyll: Hah. but the point is, Mr. Snyde, that if it is the ladies are merely receivers of such "gifts" and privileges, then as the respective words suggest, they were entitlements given by the other party, and not anything that even came close to belonging to the ladies in the first place, is it not? Thus, it is wrong for them to form such "expectations" of receiving these gifts without having done anything to have earned them, is it not?

Mr. Snyde: I hate to say this, but in a way you are right Dr. Jerkyll. But still, no matter how logical it may sound when you put it on paper, the reality of the situation is that these "expectaions" have somewhat established themselves as the unsaid rules and invisible price tags in the Dating Game, rules that men have to adhere to.

Dr. Jerkyll: So the situation is that of a very twisted "equilibrium" then, is it not? 1 that exists without the notion of equality. With the unfair expectations developed by women, men have come to terms with forgoing the notion of attempting to achieve true equality and succumb to this unproportionate "norm", and furthering fueling the poisoning words of "should" or "only natural" or "I deserve" in the minds of women, allowing them to continue down this path of warped equality.

Mr. Snyde: Sigh. Sad but true, Dr. Jerkyll. But sader is the fact that this trend is probably not going to change anytime soon, at lesat not in Singapore. Everything on the island comes with a price, and fulfilling such expectations and probably seen as a sort of "fare" that men are willing to pay to even standing a remote chance of getting into skirts.

Dr. Jerkyll: Sadly, such are the circumstances that the thoughts of one man, no matter how distinguished cannot change.

Mr. Snyde: Why thank you Dr. Jerkyll, I think so too.

Dr. Jerkyll: ............................. Well, let's turn the tables around and talk about what you, as a man in the field, expect out of the women that you date then.

Mr. Snyde: Oh, that's easy. I'm a simple man, the gal just has to satisfy any single 1 of my 5 criteria to justify my dating her.

Dr. Jerkyll: Oh? And what might those criteria be, may I ask?

Mr. Snyde: Oh, nothing too tough. The gal has to be either:

#1 Classy and Sophisticated

#2 Sweet and Simple

#3 Hot and Sexy

#4 Cute and Friendly

#5 Cool and Character

Its a case of "or", not a case of "and"; nothing too hard to fulfill. Of course, the more fulfilled, the merrier, but still. See I told you I was a simple man.

Dr. Jerkyll:...................................................

Valentine's Day 2008: Morton's of Chicago

14th Febuary 2008

"Good evening. I will be presenting to you our menu for today," the waitress said, as she pushed a tray of plastic -wrapped food samples next to our table and started going down the list of items on the menu, in an excitedly-hurried tone.

For appetizers, we have..." she went on, as I stared at the five slabs of beef plastic-wrapped on the top of the tray, my eyes fixated on the second biggest piece. "Here at Morton's, we are known for our steaks," she continued, as my ears bent forward to pick up the name of the piece that I was eyeing. "Any questions, I hope you don't have any, because I''m so thristy," she quipped cheekily after finishing her drowning rant that was probably already deeply rooted into her memory.

My eyes glanced down the menu quickly, just for an affirmation of the name of the main course that I desired, before raising up head to absorb the ambience of the restaurant as she continued to stare down the menu, visibly indecisive on what to go with.

The restuarant was generally dimly-lit with the orange glow of candlelight that perfectly suited the required ambience for a Valentine's Day choice of locale. While the restuarant was drowned with the hustle and bustle of busy waiters and indulgant couples, the level of noise in the restaurant didn't deter it from its romantic ambience; albeit in a slightly different way.

True to the "Chicago" part of its name, the restaurant presented a very American vibe, one that had the necessary candlelight, the rowdy laughter and busy waiters, often seen in Hollywood movies; but yet, at the same time, similar to its Hollywood depictions, all the surrounding distractions were hardly enough for the involved couple to continue indulging in each others' gaze.

The Perfect Prop

I stared down at the complimentary opening dish, a dome-shaped loaf of bread, wondering how best to go about consuming it, as I stole glances at the surrounding tables for a hint on the direction of approach; before finally deciding to follow the cue of the elegant lady behind me, and use the most primal of utensils, the hands.

The bread was well-baked with a tinge of herb and spice akin to that of the bread used in tuna-buns, save for the fact that it was entirely blown out of proportion. "This is the filler-dish, the type of dish that ensures that you'll be full by the time you leave the restaurant," I told her, as we proceeded on to place our orders.

The waitress manouevured past the flurry of movement and action of the other busy waiters to serve us our appetizer. It was somewhat ironic that my mental and emotional refuge for the insanely busy week I was undergoing was amidst the hustle and bustle of a busy restuarant on Valentine's Day. But the sensation of being able to sit in the stillness of adorable company proved to be the calm eye in the storm of hastiness and speed; and proved to be entirely refreshing both on an emotional and a mental level.

A parallel to the refreshing taste of lemon that I exerted on over our Scallop wrapped with Bacon appetizer. Dicing it up into managable chunks, I rolled the piece in the provided apricot sauce and sampled the concoction. The taste of the dish was an incredible multi-layered sensation, that provided the fresh seafood juiciness of the Scallop, complimented with the freshness of the lemon as the base flavour, a salty outer-layer of perfectly-smoked bacon, and with a sweet finish thanks to the works of the apricot sauce. It was a pity that the serving only came in the magical number of 3.

Despite the small serving, the appetizers did their part in whetting our appetities and paving the road of anticipation to our main courses, the Grilled Salmon Fillet for the lady, and the very potentially-satisfying Porterhouse Steak for the Count.

The Salmon Fillet was of considerable quality, as the difference between the mid-ranged Salmon Fillet and the high-quality ones fundamentally comes down to the amounts of fine bone in the fillet. And as far as the Salmon for the night was concerned, it was a delight to consume; not to mention the complimenting cream-based sauce that drenched the fillet in aroma and flavour.

Cheerful on Contemplative

But the real star of the night was sitting on my side of the table. I knew she was "the one" the moment that I laid my eyes on her as the waitress narrated away on the menu for the night. The Porterhouse Steak was a slab of beef that has a fillet on one side, and a T-bone on the other. Perfectly grilled to a medium-grill of tenderness, juiciness and bloodiness (perfectly attuned to a Vampire's liking), the steak filled my senses with sparkly-eyed wonder as I took the first bite. Indeed, it was the best beef the Count has consumed since the aromatic Kobe Beef, and perhaps, it does indeed stay true to the restaurants given slogan, perhaps.

Utterly Convinced

In fact, the steak was so good that it even had the darling turning pagan and yearning for more after taking a starter bite. Speaking of which, there has probably been too much talk prior to the date on how Valentine's Day is considered the "Pagan's Holiday" and whatnot. All around, I hear dual-ended cliches, from the melancholic nocturne of "I don't believe in celebrating Valentine's Day" to the saccharine-sweet melody of "Everyday can be Valentine's Day."

Yet, nothing can compare to the sweetness that was the dessert that brought our Valentine's Dinner to a close. The trademark Hot Chocolate Cake was the incarnation of sin, and yet, every inch worth dying for. Served with Haagen-Daaz Vanilla Ice Cream, the hot chocolate fudge oozed out of the corners of the hot, crusted chocolate ring in a marvelous, beckoning splendour; and easily put lesser hot chocolate cakes to shame simply by the merit of the pastry alone.

Hell Freezes Over

Despite all the cynical talk of the over-commercialization of Valentine's Day, with the needless effort to fret over making a booking for a jam-packed restaurant, only to pay exorbidant prices, all in the name of a special occasion; I still believe that Valentine's Day is only worth as much celebration as one chooses to make of it. The detractors will never be convinced, the cynics will never beam in the light and the unintiated will never grasp the knowledge of the meaning behind the occasion. But for those, who can scratch deep under the sound and fury that is commercialization and delve deeper into the signified under the signifier, at the end of the rainbow of romance is the heart of the reason and cause for celebration, and a pot full of golden memories. No prizes on correct guesses on which side of the rainbow she and I are on.

Sex in the Box

Mr. Snyde: Can I ask you a question Dr. Jerkyll?

Dr. Jerkyll: Only if you stop dealing with rhetoric.

Mr. Snyde: Huh?

Dr. Jerkyll: Nevermind. So what can I do you for today, Mr. Snyde?

Mr. Snyde: Well, its about your recent tagline, you know, the "Sex in the Box" one, what in the blue hell does that mean?

Dr. Jerkyll: Well, take a guess. You've got nothing to lose.

Mr. Snyde: Well, if I didn't know you any better, I would guess that it is one of your supposedly witty puns, perhaps of a certain child's toy, the Jack-in-the-Box, perhaps?

Dr. Jerkyll: Partially correct Mr. Snyde, but not entirely. There is a reason for the missing dashes and a meaning far beyond the meaning of the 4 words taken alone.

Mr. Snyde: Hmm, indulge me then, the oh-so-wise-Dr. Jerkyll.

Dr. Jerkyll: Indeed I shall. The key word lies in the word "Sex," a physical drive that is held in regard as the ultimate emotional expression, call it what you like, "making love" and whatnot, but Sex is essentially, well, Sex, no matter how you slice it. And it is commonly believed to be one of the biggest outbursts of emotion that one can express.

Mr. Snyde: Now you got me listening.

Dr. Jerkyll: Ahem, anyway, as I was saying. So when you put Sex, an "expression," a supposedly "free" and "natural" thing, within the confines of the other 3 words, perhaps you will start to see what I am getting at.

Mr. Snyde: ...................

Dr. Jerkyll: Still don't get it? Hardly surprised. Not everyone has the same penchant for irony, I would figure.

Mr. Snyde: Who needs wit and irony when you have killer good looks and overwhelming charisma?

Dr. Jerkyll: Yes yes, who could resist? But as I was saying, so imagine, if even your strongest expression of emotion, through "Sex" in confined "in the box," what more any of your lesser emotions, like laughter, joy and sorrow?

Mr. Snyde: Wait a minute, that sounds awfully familiar, isn't this from a song?

Dr. Jerkyll: Perhaps you are more attuned than I had anticipated. But yes, it indeed is from a song. And as the rest of the song goes:

dream in the box, person in the box

vibe in the box, time in the box

Mr. Snyde: Ok, I'm starting to get it, so what you are trying to say is that all this; all we think, we hold true, we experience, we perceive; are all being confined within a supposed "box" right?

Dr. Jerkyll: Indeed. And no prizes for correct guesses on what that "box" is.

Mr. Snyde: Of course, its freakin' obvious its the walls of "society" and "societal norms."

Dr. Jerkyll: Perhaps there is SOME hope for you afterall.

Mr. Snyde: What did you say?

Dr. Jerkyll: Nevermind, I digress. The point is, everything we do, we think and we feel, are largely contained within this large box; our expression of emotions, our perception of time, our expectations of what it is to be a "person," even many of our dreams are still very much "in the box," no matter how you think that it is totally left to the freedom of your will to determine these things.

Mr. Snyde: Somewhat true I believe, depressing but true.

Dr. Jerkyll: So it begs the question then, what would it mean to be "out of the box"? Any ideas, Mr. Snyde?

Mr. Snyde: Hmm, "out of the box" is such an overused terms, especially from the mouths of educators today. I remember there was this one time, during this Physics class that I attended, and we were discussing the solution to this question that no one in the class could do.

Dr. Jerkyll: You in Physics lesson, this is new, hah. But yes, continue.

Mr. Synde: Ahem. So the tutor was presenting the solution, and after which he said the words, 'for this question, you have to think out of the box to be able to do it,' before he went on to scribble something on the whiteboard and turned around with a smuck look on his face obviously very proud of the work that he had done. Kinda looks a little like how you look all the time.

Dr. Jerkyll: ..............................

Mr. Synde: But the point is, as much as he touted his solution as "out of the box," honestly, I found nothing very out-of-the-box-esque about it. It was just a bloody common case of educators using it as part of their lingo and jargon to make students think that that was what it meant to think "out of the box", which was obviously not.

Dr. Jerkyll: Yes, I have met too many of these delusional cases and have heard the words thrown around too casually. It would seem that for every minute innovative thought that just happens to bend the rules by that little bit, the Hoi Polloi would love to think that they are thinking "out of the box."

Mr. Snyde: A casualty of the lack of introspection and extremely low self-evaluation standards, I guess.

Dr. Jerkyll: Surprisingly true coming from you Mr. Snyde, such resounding and accurate words.

Mr. Snyde: Only a tip of the iceberg my dear Dr. Jerkyll. I mean take it from me, being in the creative line, I come up with new dosage of ideas on a daily basis - good ideas. But still, even with all these new and innovative ideas I churn out ever-so-often, I would hardly dare call myself or my ideas "out of the box;" pushing the boundaries of the box perhaps, but hardly "out of the box".

Dr. Jerkyll: Indeed. For something to be regarded as "out of the box," I would figure that it has to be something radically innovative and utterly revolutionary, rather than evolutionary.

Mr. Snyde: For me, it has to be something, an idea or a concept that tethers on the edge of madness, and yet, it all comes together to make sense in its own very twisted manner. Since I'm a gaming man, I would name Super Mario for example. Plumbers who go down pipes, eat mushrooms to grow bigger, and battles all manner of turtles? Before 1985, if you pitched this to someone, he or she would probably think that it was some manner of extreme virtual insanity. Yet, 23 years later, this said "madness" is widely accepted as an icon. Now, that is truly "out of the box".

Dr. Jerkyll: Yes, even though I am not a gaming man myself, but I can see where you are coming from.

Mr. Snyde: Or how about the idea of using a small sticky ball to start rolling up stuff, accumulating in size, and being able to roll up increasingly large objects; from mice, to humans, to cows, to buildings and eventually, even the moon? Raving madness on paper perhaps, but in the gaming circle, this "out of the box" concept drove a little budget game, known as Katamari Damacy to become a cult classic.

Dr. Jerkyll: Well, enough of the examples. For my academic, prying mind, the burning question is: whether this capacity to think "out of the box" is an innate, in-born ability, or is it a skill that can be honed over the years if you were to sharpen it consistently?

Mr. Snyde: Well, to that, I am no idea at all. But I sure hope its the latter more than the former. Especially, since my livelihood depends on it. Then again, doesn't matter, since I believe I am already "out of the box" no matter which way you slice it.

Dr. Jerkyll: .......................