We Will Rock You, Indeed

28th April 2008

"Ding, ding, ding, ding," the first bell rang as we entered the complex.

Instinctively, we all started running, bearing in mind the possibility of being locked out until intermission.

I dashed up two winding steps of escalators as I heard the second series of bells ringing in the background, seeing the girls trailing behind me as my lengthy brother played the fitting role of the fore-runner with the tickets in hand.

"Ding, ding, ding, ding"

A very flustered group of ushers directed us to our seats as the third and final bell rang.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to..." the host started as we reclined into our seats, breathless.

Typical.

The opening sequence started with "Innuendo," as I looked around the Esplanade Theatre. Almost 6 years since its inauguration, and I still hadn't really found a good reason / excuse to actually patronize the local theatre for the class-acts (Phantom of the Opera came THIS close), left me rather wide-eyed as I looked around.

Semi-circular in structure with 4-stories high, the theatre was probably comparable to most international Broadway / musical-esque auditoriums, in terms of seating capacity and facilities, but what bugged me were some VERY questionable seat choices; seats orientated sideways and partially obstructed, as if deliberately placed to punish the *ahem* less extravagant, in the name of its semi-circular layout.

"I heard that the sound system in the Esplanade Theater is supposed to be really good," Christy turned to me and said.

And this was firmly proven when "Radio Ga Ga" came up, to the very amusing accompaniment of some rather gay dance steps; only paling in comparison to the disturbingly-tight tights of the male dancers on stage.

The star of the show, Mig Ayesa, debuted to loud cheers of screaming women with a rendition of "I want to Break Free," which, in my opinion, was delivered very well. Backed with a nice talking voice and an even better singing voice, it was no wonder that he landed the lead role in the musical. But his biggest winning factor was probably his stage presence; with movements big enough to be distinctively recognized even from my second floor seat, and a generally smooth way of moving, it was probably justified that he was the obsession of the screaming fan in the front row that was carrying a heart-shaped ""Mig-stick."

"I hate her, she's practically screaming everytime she sings," Christy said, as Annie Crummer painted the vileness and the character of the "Killer Queen" with her vocal chords. On a personal note, I didn't particularly like her vocal style either, but I was a bit less extreme, as I believed that the sharp, shrieky tone suited her role very well.

The story of the musical was mostly a mish-mash of pop-culture influences, drawing inspiration from sources such as The Matrix and some other outlandish Sci-fi and digital references, (including an entire reference to Videogames in "Another Bites the Dust"); but the script was rather witty and well-written, filled with some genuinely funny innuendos and references that only those with a good knowledge of rock culture, in particular Queen's history, would be able to fully catch.

"I'm so glad I listened to all the CDs before I came to the show," I told Christy, mid-way through the show. As I personally found half the fun to be predicting what song would come up next in context of the plot.

While critics and musical-purists would probably pan the plot for being forced and contrived, all in the name of squeezing the next Queen song into context, I personally felt that the plot captured the main spirit of Rock Music, which was about individualism, rebellion, freedom and raw emotion.

Of particular note was the extremely heartfelt middle-scene where tribute was paid to all the rock legends who had died young, to the lyrics of No-one but You (Only the Good Die Young); bringing up waves of hands of the audience and appreciative cheers when the countenances of legends such as Kurt Cobain, Bob Marley, Elvis and (of course) Freddie Mercury came unto the scream, as the lines "One by one, only the good die young" were sang emotively by the cast.

Besides, half the beauty of musicals is in the music, and even IF the plot was contrived, it really didn't matter when the music was selected from a catalog as wide and as brilliant as Queen's. With hit songs such as "Under Pressure" and "Somebody to Love" fully represented, and lesser hits such as "Flash" and "Innuendo" appropriately partially represented, the song selection and context of the songs were mostly aptly place. The only *ahem* disappointment being the absence of the full-song of "Bicycle Race."

"I'd bet you that the story would be: So how do we get to the land of Champions? Let's take a bicycle. (Cue) Bicycle, bicycle," my ass-clown of a brother said during the intermission as I was gazing at the mostly well-dressed audience along the gallery.

"Haha. If that really happens, I'll laugh my ass off and stand up and shout, 'Yeah, that's my favourite song, man'," I challenged him.

Indeed, almost like a prophecy come true, the plot played out as the Assclown had said, but fortunately for the music-critic in me, only the first two lines of the song were played, saving me from some potentially unnecessary and disapproving glares.

The show ended with a somewhat predictable, yet still all-the-same explosive finale; with the title song "We Will Rock You" saving the day and bringing the audience unto their feet, transforming the auditorium from a Broadway-musical-theatre into what was closer to a rock concert hall; as the audience stomped, clapped, shouted and screamed to the addictive beats; before getting them to sing along to the finale of "We are the Champions."

Needless to say, almost everyone under 30 (me included) was on their feet giving a standing ovation as the curtains were called. As the claps grew louder and the screams continued, one question still lingered at the back of everyone's mind, where was the one song that everyone wanted to hear, the song that was so skillfully teased throughout the musical but never fully sung, Queen's Magnum Opus; where was... Bohemian Rhapsody?

In an utterly jesting fashion, one line of text came on screen after the curtains were drawn one more time: "Do you want Bohemian Rhapsody?" A question almost unanimously answered by the cheers of the almost-capacity crowd. And in the same jesting fashion, came a very non-chalant, "Alright then," as the all-too-familiar intro started to play, while the stadium sang along with smiling faces to the beautifully written words.

"Is this the real life, is this just Fantasy

Caught in a Landslide, No escape from Reality...."

If the faces of the couple that was covering their ears whenever the music got too loud were any indication at all, it would be safe to say that "We Will Rock You" is probably not a musical for everybody; it is probably an acquired tastes among musical-purists as much as musicals are an acquired taste among more mainstream forms of entertainment.

But for the fusion of the Gentleman and the Rock star in me, the musical was right up my alley, appealing to both sides of my tastes, and had me leaving the theatre utterly exhilarated and humming "Bohemian Rhapsody" for the rest of the night. It was definitely a more-than-fitting virgin experience of the Esplanade Theatre.

Not Exactly my Idea of "Big Air"

The Show Must Go On...

5…6…7...

The numbers on the display panel changed as I fixed my gaze on it while my mind wandered. My mind wandered to the recesses of the memories in the last month, the whole whirlwind of events and all the doors of possibilities that opened up one by one over the course of the last month. Memories of the struggles I had within and with-out of myself given the plethora of choices; “You want to work in a bank?”, “Hope that you can come over to my side to help me,” “If I decide to apply, will you help me?”, rang in my head as the lift continued its ascent.

8…9... *ding*

Deep breath, big step; each following stride a reinforcement to my decision in opening this door.
”So what number am I?” I asked, stepping into the interview room.

“Number 55,” said the Director, in a very soul-less tone, obviously fatigued from the consecutive interviews.

I sank into the chair and eased my nerves in the process. Queerly, I wasn’t as nervous as I had anticipated, perhaps I really was getting more experienced with the whole presentation thing, after having some much more intense presentations with the last company.

“I think I have your test right here on my laptop,” the all-too-familiar Producer said, as he opened up my submission, “Roy the Bouncing Hippo, right?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” I said, as I started my presentation to the weary countenances, continuing with my inspiration source for the game, with a well-concealed grin underneath it all.

“So, which question did you pick?” the Director asked.

“Oh, I picked the question to design a one-buttoned cell-phone game with the core mechanics of ‘bouncing’.” I replied confidently. “So basically the story goes like this…” as I started to run through the gist of my 2-day brain-child.

As I moved along the slides, I sensed the growing interest in my concept from the Producer’s eager nods and the Director’s firm nods of affirmation.

"So after the bar stops Roy charges a fart and propels himself forward, burping every time he bounces off the wall" I continued with my explanation of the details of the game mechanics, much to the the accompaniment of laughter from my interviewers.

"Yup, so that is the main gist of the game, any questions?" I asked, as I concluded.

"Actually, normally I will have questions to ask, but the thing is, I don't really have any questions to ask now," the Director said. "The thing is, I kinda like it."

"Yeah, I like it too," the Producer added in.

Relief and elation from deep within erupted into a smile on my face as I heard the positive reviews, recalling the 2 days that I spent looking at everything in my world bouncing around, trying to get an inspiration for the concept; to the extent I literally stared at the gas bubbles bouncing about in a Coke can every time I drank my poison. I recalled the long-forgotten experience of rushing for a deadline overnight as I sat in front of the PC till 6am in order to complete the presentation. But alas, it was all worth it when the acknowledgement was passed on.

"So if given a choice, would you choose to be a producer or a designer?" the Director asked.

"I think I would still choose to be a designer if it really came down to it. The whole reason of me going into the games industry was for the creative aspect of it more so than anything else; not that you can't give creative input as a producer, but its just that the focus of the roles are different. And for me, I prefer to be in a creative position more so than that of a management position," I replied comprehensively, to the Director's approving nods.

"Well, I guess that's all I have for you, any questions?" the Director asked me.

"Uh, actually, I was wondering if there is any bond to this whole thing?" I asked sheepishly.

"No, no bond at all. The whole purpose of this programme is to give people a chance to break into the industry to grow the industry. So the main objective in it is just to get more people involved in the industry, to train more talent," the Director replied smilingly.

"Thanks so much, Jeremy, you'll hear from us some time next week regarding the selection process," the Producer told me as I walked out of the door in confidence, as he went on to welcome the next candidate.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 days later...

An email with a "No Subject" heading from the Director popped-up in my mailbox. I moused over it in hot anticipation, took a deep breath and clicked on it...

"Dear Jeremy,

I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected by Gambit for the Summer Internship."

My spirits lifted, as I saw knew that the show will go on in MIT, one of the most prestigious universities in the world; located deep within the heart of the land of the Freedom, Bravery, and HOT, TASTY *ahem*American Pies.

But the most consoling thing was the rays of hope that I saw beyond the vision of the next 3 months of free-loading; the hope that I could continue dreaming for just a little bit longer...

.... The Show MUST Go On...

Art of Life

14th March 2008

Noise drowned out my inner thoughts as I peered around the cafe. Perhaps she was right when she said that her impression of Dempsey was that it was a somewhat "exclusive" area, due to its inaccessibility. I threw my glances around the interiors of the cafe, shifting my focus from the cosy-looking traditional fire-place, to the complementing decor consisting of retro lamps and abstract art pieces, down to the contrastingly bar lit with a sleek and modern decor.

But more importantly was the crowd that I was scrutinizing through prejudiced eyes, knowing that almost 1 in every 4 of them were part of an *ahem* elite group with the special ability to scale the heights of Dempsey Hill into the recesses of such an oasis. Regardless of the decor, the crowd gave the entire atmosphere a lively and almost self-assuring vibe, one that resonates in your soul that you are part of this "elite" group; yet at the same time, never achieving the cold and impenetrable walls of loud music and dim-lighting in the conventional chill-out places. The only regret was that the live-band was absent to add to the atmosphere.

"Have you decided on what you want?" I asked, as she returned to the table. She nodded, and I ascended from my seat to join the sprawling queue. Fortunately some eye-candy provided some much-needed relief from all the waiting.

Staple Food

Bringing back a bowl of our Ben & Jerry's staple, the Mix 'n' Match (which caters to my need for variety), we savoured the familiar tastes of Strawberry Cheesecake, Chocolate Fudge Brownie and the alien and somewhat funky flavour of the Black Raspberry Yogurt, all while taking the time to bathe in the atmosphere and talking about fellow patrons through the critical eye, oh, and about art too.

"What do you think that painting means? Its so weird that the couple only have one eye each. I wonder what the artist wanted to convey through that?" she wondered, as she stared at the painting across the room.

"Well, the beauty about Art is that... well... it comes down to the interpretation of the artwork. And while I might not be the kind to stare at a painting for hours before forming a conclusion, I can give my interpretation of the painting," I quelled solemnly.

She listened earnestly.

"Actually, I think its just the artist's style to paint his characters with one eye each," I said, bursting into laughter.

"No, I believe that there is much more to it than that," she said adamantly.

"Ok, if you really want an interpretation, then this is how it goes," I said wisely. "The thing about the man and woman embracing each other is a representation of a union, the two of them being one whole. And the fact that each one only has one eye further reinforces this point. Not that you need both eyes to see, but having two eyes sure helps you see the big picture. So the whole thing plays on the concept of 'the other half.' Makes sense to you?"

She contemplated in silence briefly before nodding in acknowledgement.

Cool on Chub... I mean... Greedy

But the silence was short-lived as the sugar-rush derived from the platter of ice-cream probably gave her enough Euphoria to start prancing around the premises and getting inspired enough to play her own artistic role; climbing high and low to attempt to gather artistic shots of the locale, even roping me into the equation.

Parallel Artistic Directions

Finally satisfied with her works, I turned to the aspiring artist and said, "Shall we go?" We left the oasis slightly past the stroke of midnight and headed back to the reminder of our elitism.

Satisfied Artists

"You know what darling, let's go to East Coast. For some odd reason, I have a longing for the sea breeze," I said. And with the spoken word, a few gallons of fuel and about 30 minutes later, there we were, back at the all-too-familiar spot along the sea-side.

Little had changed from our favourite spot, despite the nearly 6-month absence. The seclusion, the seduction and most importantly, the soothing sensation of the sound of the sea, rhythmically pounding away on the shore.

"You know, there is just something so soothing about the sound of water. Like in a lot of Asian cultures, like China and Japan, the whole thing about water is supposed to calm the mind, and is ideal for meditation," I told her as I raised my head.

"Wow, the sky is really clear today, there are SO many stars out tonight," I said in amazement, beholding the beauty of the artistic placement of the stars in the night sky.

"Yeah, I've never seen so many stars in anywhere in Singapore before," she exclaimed with wide-eyed amazement.

"You know, we probably can see a few constellations tonight, if we look hard enough." I said.

"Huh? You mean we can actually see constellations in Singapore?" she asked puzzled.

"Actually yeah, its just a matter of whether the skies are dark enough for you to notice them." I replied. "But the thing is, the whole concept about constellations is that it is entirely an interpretation of the human mind.

"Many constellations don't even really look like what they are supposed to portray. I was just doing my research on this today, and believe me, things like Cancer, is only a group of like 6 visible stars which don't even really resemble a crab AT ALL," I divulged, spreading the seeds of my long hours of research.

Perhaps divulgance is a continuously spreading wave that sears through the human mind and body, as from one platform of divulgance, I started to open up the doors to my inner minds and thoughts, and started to divulge the deep contemplative thoughts that I had formed over all the current issues in my life. Each crash of the waves brought about ripples upon ripples of deep thought manifested into words; and as soothing as the sound of the waves were to the ears, so was the sound of my spoken words to my very soul.

"I don't think you understand, but nevermind" was the phrase that accentuated every other chain of thought and long periods of silence in between; and it was almost always followed by a vehement "No, I understand what you're saying." But honestly, it didn't matter if the entirety of the message was lost in translation or not, the more important thing was the motivation that stirred me enough to hand the keys to the doors of the dark abyss, that is my dark mind and soul, to someone else.

This very motivation served as a very, very pleasant reminder to my soul, exactly 7 months in, of one of the very main reasons of why I fell into what I fell into for the last 7 months; the abstract art of Conversational Chemistry, a motivation that drives one to confide in another through conversation. And once again, I was reminded that this chemistry can even come in the most unlikely of packages.

"Look at that line of stars, don't you feel that it forms a very nice curve?" she said, using her fingers to trace the outline of the stars.

"You know, it kinda looks a little like Scorpio, if only I could find its claws," I said, quinting hard at the reddish night sky.

"Well, I don't see any claws. It just seems to end with a T-shape there," she said pointing to the left.

"Wait a minute, I think those ARE the claws. I think it really is Scorpio. Look! The tail, all the way to the claws," I said taking her finger to trace the shape of the constellation.

"I can't believe we just found Scorpio!" she said, as I turned to her and saw a glint of amazement and appreciation for the beautiful artwork of God.

Losing my Breath in Waves, knowing that every Crash is Bleeding the Hourglass.

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.