Joelosophy

My mid-afternoon nap was disturbed today by news that I would be required to go down to SAFTI MI tomorrow for an SAF Day Exco meeting. Aroused at my 39th wink by the ringing purveyor of my requisite presence, I tried to be as cordial as possible to the person on the other end, masking the combined annoyances of somnolistic intrusion and a disrupted schedule the next day. Message received, I hung up and decided to take another 41 winks, to make up for the one lost.

For the unaware, I will be involved in this year's SAF Day Parade in a pretty vocal way. While the Parade Commander orchestrates the drills on the parade square, I will be the one directing the audience on the grandstand with commands to sit, stand and applaud. (Come to think of it, it's almost like that with Shandi, my beagle. Only that the audience will likely be more obedient and I doubt any of them will hump my leg.) Yes, I will be the emcee. It's not a big deal really, as a friend recently pointed out: the guest of honour is only going to be the President of Singapore, with the Defense Minister and a plethora of generals, local and foreign, in attendance. And seeing how I, in the same capacity, once demoted a Lieutenent-Colonel to a Lieutenant at a previous parade, there's no pressure this time, really.

So tomorrow, I will be attending the Exco meeting chaired by a one-star general and staffed by more epauletted crabs than at an all-you-can-eat buffet at Long Beach. I'll have to admit, there's a certain egomaniacal pleasure in being able to saunter into a room filled with so much top brass you see your own reflection. It can be even more satisfying when everyone there knows and celebrates you because of the quality of your speech (which, I've been told, is sweeter than mountain honey and smoother than 30-year-old scotch. Ok, maybe I'm paraphrasing a little). Yes, praise can be intoxicating. But therein lies the danger.

The danger in becoming self-important. With prior successes and the immoderate praise of men, the temptation to believe that you really are as amazing as they say you are becomes heavier. It is like a concrete block dropped from a height onto one end of a see-saw, where on the other end sits precariously one's sense of self-awareness. You lose yourself if not for a grounded self-awareness. It is as the wise say: a good man is unfazed by criticism; a great man is unmoved by praise.

In the course of my NS, I have seen too many good men fall prey to their own pride. Men of stature who because of their rank and status believe it their right, nay duty, to lord over those whose shoulders bear less impressive embroidery than theirs. Men of rank who hide their conceit behind a spurious facade of good humour but with every subtly raised eyebrow and pursed lips threaten their pandering minions' fall from false grace. Ironically the delusions of grandeur of these men are painted for them by those very vassals who would say and do all to get into their boss' good books; it is a shame that in their desperation they do not realise they will appear as mere footnotes in a chapter entitled Ego. How ironic then that I consider these men to be my best teachers during my NS. They have afterall, left the deepest impression on me. In military speak, they are the negative examples to what I ought to be.

So when I walk into that meeting room tomorrow, surrounded by men important and self-important, it will not be with a head held high in recognition of their favour. It will not be a head hung low either, in a practised attempt to appear modest. With a level head, I will go to my seat and take it. For I know my place and I know who I am. And that is what matters most.

Posted by Joel at 5:35 PM | Permalink | Comments

Advertising does not need to be the desperate hardsell drivel you see on every page you turn and channel you click. The latest Cannes Advertising Festival winners prove it. Works of art, these.

http://www.canneslions.com/winners_site/

Posted by Joel at 10:27 AM | Permalink | Comments

A little tale from Amy Tan's latest novel of the same title. It was delightful read, which embodied a skilled literary development of characters and a prismatically colourful narrative style. The curious title (which no doubt helped move many volumes off the shelves) came from this intriguing folk apologue at the beginning of her book:

"A pious man explained to his followers: "It is evil to take lives and noble to save them. Each day I pledge to save a hundred lives. I drop my net in the lake and scoop out a hundred fish. I place the fish on the bank, where they flop and twirl. "Don't be scared," I tell those fish. "I am saving you from drowning." Soon enough, the fish grow calm and lie still. Yet, sad to say, I am always too late. The fish expire. And because it is evil to waste anything, I take those dead fish to market and I sell them for a good price. With the money I receive, I buy more nets so I can save more fish."

Posted by Joel at 7:43 PM | Permalink | Comments

Speaking about face reading, some of you would have heard of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). It's based on Karl Jung's personality typologic theory that there are 16 broad categories of personality types that everyone falls within. Apparently it's one of the most scientifically accurate personality indicators out there.

Here's a simple non-scientific test to identify your personality type according to this theory. I was pretty skeptical myself, but the results proved rather uncanny. Try it:

http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes1.htm

According to the indicator, I'm an INTJ which means that...

"... As an INFJ, your primary mode of living is focused internally, where you take things in primarily via intuition. Your secondary mode is external, where you deal with things according to how you feel about them, or how they fit with your personal value system.

INFJs are gentle, caring, complex and highly intuitive individuals. Artistic and creative, they live in a world of hidden meanings and possibilities. Only one percent of the population has an INFJ Personality Type, making it the most rare of all the types.

INFJs place great importance on havings things orderly and systematic in their outer world. They put a lot of energy into identifying the best system for getting things done, and constantly define and re-define the priorities in their lives. On the other hand, INFJs operate within themselves on an intuitive basis which is entirely spontaneous. They know things intuitively, without being able to pinpoint why, and without detailed knowledge of the subject at hand. They are usually right, and they usually know it. Consequently, INFJs put a tremendous amount of faith into their instincts and intuitions. This is something of a conflict between the inner and outer worlds, and may result in the INFJ not being as organized as other Judging types tend to be. Or we may see some signs of disarray in an otherwise orderly tendency, such as a consistently messy desk.

INFJs have uncanny insight into people and situations. They get "feelings" about things and intuitively understand them. As an extreme example, some INFJs report experiences of a psychic nature, such as getting strong feelings about there being a problem with a loved one, and discovering later that they were in a car accident. This is the sort of thing that other types may scorn and scoff at, and the INFJ themself does not really understand their intuition at a level which can be verbalized. Consequently, most INFJs are protective of their inner selves, sharing only what they choose to share when they choose to share it. They are deep, complex individuals, who are quite private and typically difficult to understand. INFJs hold back part of themselves, and can be secretive.

But the INFJ is as genuinely warm as they are complex. INFJs hold a special place in the heart of people who they are close to, who are able to see their special gifts and depth of caring. INFJs are concerned for people's feelings, and try to be gentle to avoid hurting anyone. They are very sensitive to conflict, and cannot tolerate it very well. Situations which are charged with conflict may drive the normally peaceful INFJ into a state of agitation or charged anger. They may tend to internalize conflict into their bodies, and experience health problems when under a lot of stress.

Because the INFJ has such strong intuitive capabilities, they trust their own instincts above all else. This may result in an INFJ stubborness and tendency to ignore other people's opinions. They believe that they're right. On the other hand, INFJ is a perfectionist who doubts that they are living up to their full potential. INFJs are rarely at complete peace with themselves - there's always something else they should be doing to improve themselves and the world around them. They believe in constant growth, and don't often take time to revel in their accomplishments. They have strong value systems, and need to live their lives in accordance with what they feel is right. In deference to the Feeling aspect of their personalities, INFJs are in some ways gentle and easy going. Conversely, they have very high expectations of themselves, and frequently of their families. They don't believe in compromising their ideals.

INFJ is a natural nurturer; patient, devoted and protective. They make loving parents and usually have strong bonds with their offspring. They have high expectations of their children, and push them to be the best that they can be. This can sometimes manifest itself in the INFJ being hard-nosed and stubborn. But generally, children of an INFJ get devoted and sincere parental guidance, combined with deep caring.

In the workplace, the INFJ usually shows up in areas where they can be creative and somewhat independent. They have a natural affinity for art, and many excel in the sciences, where they make use of their intuition. INFJs can also be found in service-oriented professions. They are not good at dealing with minutia or very detailed tasks. The INFJ will either avoid such things, or else go to the other extreme and become enveloped in the details to the extent that they can no longer see the big picture. An INFJ who has gone the route of becoming meticulous about details may be highly critical of other individuals who are not.

The INFJ individual is gifted in ways that other types are not. Life is not necessarily easy for the INFJ, but they are capable of great depth of feeling and personal achievement."

(Taken from www.personalitypage.com)
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What's your personality type?

Posted by Joel at 8:17 PM | Permalink | Comments

My colleague asked me yesterday if I would be interested in attending a seminar on "face reading." This is an Ancient Chinese Artform (international law requires any Chinese Artform to be described as "Ancient;" it also requires any ancient artform to be attributed in some way or other to the Chinese) that interprets a person's future according to his facial composition. This got me thinking: imagine if someone went up to a face reader and the sinseh, without batting an eyelid tells the guy, "Wah, your future looks damn screwed up man."

Posted by Joel at 7:52 PM | Permalink | Comments

(Theme Song for this Post: "Respect" by Aretha Franklin)

Do you know what SAF Day smells like? It's smells like sweat. More specifically, it smells like two hundred soaked and tired soldiers who've spent two hours standing shoulder to shoulder under the scorching sun and then with drenched uniforms clinging to their bodies, herded into a hall where they are allowed to further marinate in their own collective perspiratory vapours. You gotta take your beret off to these guys for the effort they've put in.

It is difficult to walk past that hall (which I obviously did) and not be overwhelmed by the inspiration from seeing their perspiration. Even though that inspiration (for those of you who were slacking in bio class, the scientific meaning of the word is "to breathe in," thus qualifying its usage here as a very witty pun) came only as a result of the length of the corridor along the hall outlasting the average person's lung capacity of a single held breath.

But seriously, you have to admire the effort these guys are putting into preparing for our military's single most important event of the year. With the Guest of Honour being the president of our republic and dozens of foreign military personnel on the invitation list for the First of July event, no effort at perfection is being spared. Eight days of rehearsals, four runs a day, over the course of a month leading up to the solemn day.

Even if most of these guys were not initially there by choice, I'd bet good money that on the day itself, not a few heads will be held higher than usual when, dressed to their nines in their Number Ones, they march onto the parade square and see the constellation of epaulettes and other top brass assembled on the grandstand just to watch them perform.

None of you will probably be there (unless you happen be someone from Mindef doing a routine blog check to see if any state secrets are being leaked here) but I have a feeling that the local media will grant it its fair share of coverage. So remember to tune in to the 9:30pm news that day. You might just hear a familiar voice booming over the parade square's sound system. :)

Posted by Joel at 8:09 PM | Permalink | Comments

I firmly believe that if you don't think this is the sexiest use ever discovered for metal, leather and rubber, there is something seriously wrong with you.

Posted by Joel at 7:43 PM | Permalink | Comments

When I read that Pixar was gonna do a movie about, of all things, talking cars, I honestly thought they were in over their heads this time. After megahits like Toy Story, Monsters, Finding Nemo and The Incredibles, I believed that this was gonna be their first flop. I mean, seriously, talking cars? Do five-to-ten-year-olds really have that kinda spending power? How do you make something as prosaic as automobiles anthropomorphically believable and emotionally connect with an adult audience? But when I watched it yesterday, I got my answer: you get Pixar to make it, that's how.

It was simply a piece of inspired story telling. Anyone can make a little fish look cute or weave a tale about a superhero family. But to get the audience to laugh and cry along with chunks of aluminium and rubber takes some serious horsepower, talent-wise. Go watch it. It's a fun ride that'll take you from chuckle to guffaw in four seconds flat.

(I was initially surprised that there weren't many product placements, even though the movie itself had the potential as an automobile branding vehicle. Beside's the main character's love interest, Porsche, and the VW hippie van, all the other main characters were brandless. Imagine the publicity generated if say, some Jap car company with big bucks managed to get the main character branded as one of theirs. A marketer's wet dream come true! Then again, I believe it was probably a conscious decision on Pixar's part to keep its craft as pure as possible. And the tale was better told because of it.)

Posted by Joel at 6:00 PM | Permalink | Comments

Here's a sardonic tale pilferred from one of my favourite authors, Jeffery Archer, who in turn pilferred it from antiquity. Makes you ponder...

A servant in Baghdad rushed home to his master one day with a look of utter fear frozen upon his face.

"Master, I just came back from the market," he explained, "where I saw Death. When he saw me, he made a menacing gesture. Allow me to flee to from here and I will ride to Samara, where Death will not find me."

The master gave his consent and the servant flew at once out of the city to Samara. Later that afternoon, the master went to the market himself. Amongst the crowd, he too chanced upon Death. Angry that he had lost a good servant, he confronted him.

"This morning you saw my servant and made a menacing gesture towards him. Why did you do that?"

Death replied: "I never intended to frighten him. That was not a gesture of menace but a reaction of surprise. I did not expect to see him here, for I had an appointment with him this afternoon in Samara."

Posted by Joel at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments

I think I was about four when I almost got into my first fight with a complete stranger. Yes, those of you who know me personally might find that hard to believe. "How could this genteel, erudite and very attractive young man possibly have resorted to violence at such a young age?" You are probably asking yourself. "Looking at him now, it is incomprehensible that he was anything but a vision of cherubic beauty and innocence as a child."

Alas, I'm afraid I have to burst your bubble; there is a side of me you never knew. I was pretty much a brat when I was a kid.

So this near incident of infantile fist-a-cuffs (I like using archaic words like that; makes me sound smart) took place at the toy department of some store. I had seen a particular action figurine (I think it was He-Man. Remember him?) that had caught my four-year-old-or-thereabouts fancy and toddled towards it so that I could analyze its safety disclaimer and to ponder which vintage of whine (get it?) I should serve my dad in order to convince him to buy it for me.

Just as I unhooked the package from the the jutting-metal-spoke-holder-thingy that all toy departmental stores, in accordance with governmental safety regulations, place at the direct eye level of small children in order to protect the rest of their bodies if they tripped, another kid appeared.

Now, this kid was about my age. But he was a total dick. Instead of choosing from all the other popular He-Man action figurines that lined the shelves (you remember them: Man-At-Arms, Cyclops, Skeletor, Evilyn, Spongebob, etc.), he came right up to me and tried to snatch the toy I had picked out right out of my hands! Imagine that!

I swear I would have bitch-slapped the little twerp there and then if I had known what a bitch-slap was. Anyway, a miniature tug-of-war ensued and eventually my dad came along and, being a first-time parent who was naturally over-protective of his first-born son, protectively pried the toy out of my hands and gave it to the other kid. With a smile. Now, I don't remember crying much, which you must admit is pretty commendable for a four-year old under such circumstances. Although the bills for the subsequent parent-child therapy sessions did mean that there were no He-Man toys for quite awhile.

You might be wondering where my mum was in all of this. She, a woman of the female gender, having been endowed by thousands of years of evolutionary maternal survivalist instinct, always stayed clear of toy department on our family outings. She strangely always saw something that caught her fancy somewhere else and needed to go check if it was on discount as soon as my eyes caught first sight of Lego blocks. She'd crane her neck and point to something in the distance and tell my dad, "I think they're selling that red blouse cheap. I'd better go take a look." Even though the woman's department was two floors down. She's a wise woman, my mum.

You may now be wondering what this stupid story has to do with why I'm starting a blog. And why on earth you are actually still reading it. I frankly have no idea. I initially wanted to relate how that kid who snatched my toy was merely manifesting the desire that not having what someone else had only makes you want it more, and how all my friends had blogs and therefore I needed one too. But somehow, I got carried away (it was only after putting up a fierce struggle that I was put down) and decided to go with stupid corny humour instead (real life story though).

Truth be told though, this had been a long time in the making. And it was only recently I stumbled across a friend's blog, "where thy eyes shall suffer the sight of such writing as is unfit for thy mortal vision," that I was inspired to do my part for humanity and share a part of me with the world, in literary form. Good writing begets inspiration. So thank you, Youknowwhoyouare.

This blog will not be entirely about *me* though. It will be about *life*, albeit, my take on it, as the name of the blog suggests (Joel=me, Sophy=wisdom. Oh the humility!). It will be a mix of the mundane and the sublime, the random and the ordered. But most importantly, it will be about the things in life that inspire us to be more of who we are. So here I am at last, late to the game, but here nonetheless.

So if you're still reading this, you must be extremely bored, but thank you for taking an interest anyway. I hope to carry on this conversation with you in subsequent posts (see that "Comment" button down there? Use it). Till then, have a good life!

Posted by Joel at 6:18 PM | Permalink | Comments