It’s cool. It’s hip. It’s the latest happening thing in town. Yes, I’m talking about Zumba Fitness - a fusion of Latin and international music that forms the backbone of yet another new fitness system.

I’ve heard quite a bit about it from the media. And since it’s come to Singapore, I thought I might as well try it out for myself. And so I did this evening.

Check myself in for the Zumba Fitness class I did. And boy was it a dynamic and exciting 45min exercise session from the minute ‘go’. I’ve never had so much fun doing a class before. It was really beyond my wildest imagination.

Before I knew it, I was already swaying to the music and working out a big sweat. Yes, I knew I would perspire but I was astonished at the amount! I was literally wet after the first routine was over. Hmm…maybe this can be a good alternative to my runs.

I must admit I have two left feet. Dancing doesn’t come easy to me. Even for the flamingo dance which I had to do as part of the Mister Singapore 2007 pageant, I practised extra hard just to perfect my moves. But this time round, I just flowed with the music. There was no stress of needing to get every move right. What mattered more was to just have fun. Yes, fun was the name of the entire session.

With its hypnotic latin fast slow alternating beats, head bobbing music and ever-changing dance moves gleaned from kickboxing, aerobics, resistance training, plyometrics, ballet and waltz, I was treated to an international fistful of rhythm and rhyme.

I was shaking my bons bons this very moment with much fervour not unlike Ricky Martin….only to transit into a pseudo well-tuxedoed gentleman doing a waltz dance….only to transit yet again into a lean and mean Muay Thai boxer delivering his deadly kicks and punches…only to transit again to professional stage dancer showcasing his sleek dance moves. My body was like a stream flowing gently, forcefully, gracefully, sharply at different intervals.

It really didn’t matter if I couldn’t get everything perfect. Sometimes my hands and feet were not even coordinated. But gradually, once my body got into the mood of things, the fun more than made up for it!

Zumba Fitness…I’m hooked

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During the time when I was working in the corporate world, I used to wonder why the organisation blocked our access to certain sites, among them popular ones like msn, youtube, facebook, myspace and all internet emails like google, hotmail and yahoo. Now I understand.

For all the advantages that the new media brings with it, and that includes inter-world connectivity and the all popular buzzword of ‘multi-tasking’, it really isn’t multitasking from the employers’ point of view.

Imagine working on a project and suddenly, you hear a beep sound. Someone has just msn-ed you. And seconds later, another ‘oh oh’ sound is heard. That’s from your gmail chat. And not forgetting someone poked you on facebook. Plus the latest youtube video of Madonna gyrating in the MTV video that you are watching on Youtube. If all these scenarios happened, can you even concentrate on your project? No!

There are too many distractions in the form of this new media. And many of us choose to become victims of it. We have a choice not to login to msn, facebook and check our internet emails every 10 minutes. We have a choice. But how many of us really exercise this option?

Most of us are mentally and psychologically weak. We cannot resist the attractive lure of the new media. How can we compare a boring piece of project to that of the latest exciting music video on Youtube? There is just no comparison. It’s just comparing apples and oranges. And besides, since the boss is not around, why not skive? After all, we just need to pretend to act busy. It’s an innate skill that all of us don’t even need to be schooled in.

By doing so, we have become slaves of new media. We are being manipulated every moment we cannot make a choice. Should this carry on, it is no wonder a simple project which should take no more than 1 week has dragged on for 3 weeks. I can look into my crystal ball and see it stretching to the 4th week. A simple innocent looking ‘hi’ on msn can turn into a hour long conversation.

Now, shouldn’t service providers have a service agreement that they must adhere to? If they cannot deliver the service or product on time, shouldn’t they be penalised? I really think so. As a paying consumer, why should I be faulted for this irresponsible behaviour of your employee?

I don’t think you should penalise the organisation. You should instead penalise the individual staff who flouts office rules for his own enjoyment and cheap thrills. There is a slew of measures you can consider - docking his pay, giving him a warning letter, subjecting him to a piece of your mind or even booting him out.

If only people can just focus on the priorities in life, this world will be a more beautiful place to live in. No more unnecessary excuses or pretence. Focus and get the job done. If you wanna play, then you can play thereafter.

You don’t play now and keep delaying. This is not how things should be.

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When one door closes, another door opens.

Life is not about beating yourself up when the going gets tough. Life is more about picking yourself up when you are down and preparing yourself for the road ahead.

Yes, it’s inevitable to feel sad when the door closes. It is perhaps unfortunate that the door has to close. After all, we have been accustomed to it through all these years. It has become our best friend. But each door closes for a reason. It may be because it is no longer suitable for you. It may be because it no longer supports your growth. It may be because it is no longer in tandem with your life direction. If so, this is in fact a good sign.

When the next door opens, it is a door of the unknown – of new challenges and fresh problems. Do you enter it and rise through it all? Or do you watch it open and then close again as the window of opportunity passes you by?

When one door closes, another door opens. The question is whether you are still wallowing in sorrow and self-pity over the foregone opportunities, or have you all ready for the new challenges ahead which the new door offers.

When the door shuts, it’s a sign. That’s the end. It’s time to move on.

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Michael Jackson is dead.

When news of his death arising from cardiac arrest spread like wildfire across the globe, half the world is in mourning and the other half heaves a sigh of relief.

There never has been any artiste more successful in the history of the music world than Michael Jackson. Love him or hate him, one cannot deny his brilliance and contributions to modern pop. He was the one who ignited the imaginations of millions with his by now legendary moonwalk and other slick moves. Growing up listening to his songs, his death is like a good friend suddenly departing without bidding a last goodbye.

If ‘Beat It’,  ‘Bad’, ‘Smooth Criminal’ and other rock infused anthems are what people will remember him for, then I must add to his legacy his sentimental songs like ‘The Girl Is Mine’ and ‘I Just Can’t Stop Loving You’…not forgetting his other songs written for children and worthy causes like the fight against poverty and the earth such as ‘You Are Not Alone’,  ‘Heal The World’ and ‘Earth Song’.

As fans, we cannot help but mourn the loss of the King of Pop – the one who won an unprecedented 19 Grammy Awards, 40 Billboard Awards, 22 American Music Awards, 13 Guinness World Records, 13 MTV Awards, 12 World Music Awards and 7 Brit Awards. That’s 197 major awards in his entire career! He is without any doubt the most successful music icon of all times, selling more than 61 million albums in the United States alone.

Besides his music, his fashion sense too has endeared himself to his followers. Even till date, I still see men wearing white socks with black loafers. The Michael Jackson era still isn’t quite over yet for them. And never do away with the military inspired suits and jackets. They are all in the name of his regal fashion.

With his death also comes the half of the world who heaves a sigh of relief. At last, they won’t hear of yet another Michael Jackson linked scandal of child molestation ever again. So did he sexually abuse the young boys he invited to stay overnight at his Neverland ranch? If he didn’t, why did he agree to settle the various cases out of court? In one particular case involving the 13 year old boy named Jordan Chandler, he even reportedly paid US$23 million to close the issue. This is testimony that he did it, isn’t it? And how many more unreported cases were there exactly? Beats me.

And there will never be another sensational headline that screams bad nose job or plastic surgery gone horribly wrong. Remember those days when Michael Jackson looked more ghoulish than glamorous after his face lifts, nose jobs and whitening skin peels? He looked just like Bubbles, his favourite ape pet he used to keep.

Perhaps the man is too much an entertainer that whatever he does is lapped up with fervor by the media. After all, he is the King of Pop. And what is an entertainer who does not entertain? Michael Jackson more than lived up to that label. In fact, his entire life was like a circus and the Peter Pan of Pop just refuses to grow up. If not, how can one explain the pains he took to build Neverland, his 1133 ha ranch cum private zoo complete with elephants, giraffes and other critters? Record has it that he spent US$250, 000 a month in payroll costs employing 50 full-time employees just for this purpose.

And if you want to attract hordes of media attention, just take a leaf from Michael Jackson’s book. Dangle your child over a balcony for your fans to see.

Yet regardless of whether you love him or hate him, Michael Jackson leaves a legacy which can never be duplicated by anyone. He transcends everything and is larger than life. If Barrack Obama is the first black American President in history, then Michael Jackson must be given credit for bringing black people into the mainstream and being the first black American to be adored in music history. There is no one who has not heard of Michael Jackson. He is this famous, or infamous if you are on the other side of the fence.

Now that Michael Jackson is gone, the next question on everyone’s lips is who gets custody of his three kids and fortune. But this is a question for his family and ex-wives to tussle among themselves.

In the hearts of millions of fans, he was already elevated to that of a living god cultural icon as his creative music genres, sleek dance moves, fashionable dress sense and high-pitched voice were a constant inspiration.

But despite all his genius, talent, fame and wealth, Michael Jackson still wasn’t invincible. He could not attain immortality.

For now, only one fact remains. Michael Jackson is dead.

Goodbye Michael, you will be missed. But I am not alone.

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There’s a talkshow on TV lately that interviews local celebrities. The only difference is that this programme unearths the little known secrets about these people in the limelight too. Think your bankruptcy past, your sexual history, your unglamourous divorce etc etc…Wow, that’s interesting.

In one of the episodes, it was suggested that a popular artiste was not the biological child of his parents. That caused a big hoo-ha the very next day as the press picked it up very quickly and viewers called the hotlines to protest that they wanted to know the truth as that episode ended on a cliffhanger. Watching the artiste on screen struggle with his own emotions, my heart ached for him. Tears swelled in his eyes and soon rolled down his cheeks as the intruding cameras continued to close up on him.

I’ve read about such stuff. I’ve seen them being acted out in drama serials. But little did I uncover one huge secret that my family had kept for decades. I was let into this secret unknowingly by chance. Such things do happen too to the people I know intimately well.

Two of my cousins are not the biological children of the man and woman they call their parents.

When I first learnt that, it was a shock to me. How can this possibly be?

After all, the birth certificate does indicate that they are the flesh and blood. But Fate has a hand to play in almost everything, this family episode included.

These days, some couples view children as liabilities as it’s expensive to bring up a child, especially in Singapore. But in those days when children were seen more than just a Godsend, it was imperative for daughters-in-law to be able to give birth to healthy children, boys first and then girls in this order, so as to continue the lineage of the clan. Should the daughter-in-law fail in this simple yet sacred duty, she would be sidelined and possibly have to suffer the price of having to share her husband with another woman.

Not based on my conjecture but rather more on facts, the woman was barren or didn’t want to give birth as post-natal slimming then was almost a virtual unknown. Yet she could not jeopardise her position in the family as she was not the only daughter-in-law in the family that had 13 children. She certainly could not just sit by doing nothing and watch the other daughters-in-law lord over her.

Great-Grandfather, as the esteemed partriach of the clan, could not be angered. He was a man known for offering carrots and sticks. Should a male child be born, the parents would be given $10, 000 and for a daughter, $5000. In those days, $10, 000 and $5000 were considerably huge sums. The daughter-in-law of course, would not want to miss out on this pot of gold.

She adopted two babies, a boy and a girl subsequently, through her vast contacts and just in time, managed to register herself as the biological mother. She could have bribed the hospital, or she could have pretended to be pregnant, or she could have gotten a surrogate mother…how she did it still remains a mystery.

Fast forward to year 2009. The children are all grown up now. They call the parents father and mother. Yet this secret, which I now know, will never be let known to them. Never in this lifetime.

Imagine what will happen if they knew they were not the biological children of this man and woman. Would they just pack up and leave in search of their blood parents? Or will they continue to live cordially with the couple whom they have been addressing as parents all these years?

Personally, I feel the children have a right to know the truth. Everyone has the right to know the truth. Yes, the children would have to come to terms with the truth. Many a times, the truth hurts. Behind his web of deceit lies the good intentions of the couple who have slogged hard to provide them with a good life. Do they not have a moral responsibility to look after the couple who are now in their twilight years? Yet then again, do they not to acknowledge the ones who gave them flesh and blood? If I were the biological parent and I was forced to sell my child because I needed the money or I had no financial means to bring him up, how much more angst and pain would it bring to me. It would haunt me everyday till the day I die.

Whatever stand I take, I am in no position to say anything. The onus lies with the couple to decide if they want to reveal the secret or bring the secret with them to the grave.

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It’s not an entirely new feeling but somehow, it just got intensified lately. And that’s making me uncomfortable.

For far too long, the gym has always been the place to get a good workout and sculpt your body the way you want it to be. But in recent years, it has taken on a new social dimension as well. It is now the place to see, be seen, meet and greet. From its humble beginnings as a place of fitness to a hip networking venue, the gym has certainly come a long way.

Gone are the ways when people don their oldest T-shirt and faded shorts when they visit the gym. These days, you are expected to be seen in nothing less than a Nike Dri-fit singlet or Adidas Climalite singlet. Oh and did I mention you have to match the colour (and design if possible) of your singlet with that of your shorts and even shoes! That is now the basic exercise attire to be seen. It’s no wonder these sporting giants are doing extremely well cashing in on this new social phenomenon.

Once you have bought in and are looking at your matching best, it’s time to move onto the next agenda. But before that, remember no one will give you a second wink if you are still seen in those old T-shirt and faded shorts. It’s so likely you will be bestowed one of the following labels ‘ancient, antique, archaic, dated, dinosaur, old-fashioned, out, out-of-date, out-of-fashion, stale, timeworn, unfashionable’.

But now that you have upped your image quotient, you have also propelled yourself into the new playground. Enter ‘meet and greet’. This is another new social phenomenon which has mushroomed in recent years, thanks to the increasing awareness of the need to keep fit and look good.

I feel like a piece of meat on parade in this new playground. Really. It’s perfectly alright to take a second look at someone. But I think it should just remain as that - a cursory glance that lasts no more than 5 seconds. Anything longer and more intense is certainly cause for worry. As a piece of meat, I’m on parade with the other pieces of meat. We are all walking pieces of meat hoping to draw the attention of the meat dealer.

The meat dealer is the one in the most privileged position. He only needs to exercise his eyes and pick out the juciest and perhaps freshest piece of meat in the market. Old pieces of meat still parading around after months or years in the same playground are classified as tough, worthless meat. Only the new pieces of subtle, tender meats will do for the meat dealer (think new entrants to the playground)

Of course, these roles are all self-assigned. You can be a meat dealer this moment and a piece of meat the very next. Sometimes, you can even play the dual roles simultaneously! This means while you are checking someone out, you are similarly being noticed.

If it’s just an innocent case of checking out and being checked out, it’s still fine with me. But when the meat dealers up the ante, that’s when it starts to irritate me. Very often, once the meat dealer zeroes in on his targeted piece of meat, he will trail the walking meat and do his utmost to establish contact. And with Lady Luck’s blessing, get physical later.

I certainly wasn’t well oriented when I first joined the gym years ago. It finally dawned upon me one day when I was doing my dips and I noticed two meat dealers standing uncomfortably close to my machine. Were they waiting to use the machine too? No. Were they discussing something with much fervour? Yes. It was only after this episode that I realised I was a piece of new meat being viewed upon with much fancy. God damn it!

Someone cruised me again. I hate it. And if that wasn’t bad enough, another flashed at me after I finished my shower. That’s obscene. I’ve lost count of the number of times this has happened. Terrible terrible.

All men have dicks. But some men just can’t keep their dicks to themselves. They think their own dick is the biggest, most well endowed instrument in the world that they have to show it off to any Tom, Dick and Harry. I really pity them as their lives are so empty. Add a silly grin to their face and they think they have succeeded in drawing people’s attention.

Having throughly understood the new gym rules, I have began formulating my own rules to counter them as well.

Rule 1
As far as possible, don’t initiate any form of eye contact with anyone less it gives them the wrong impression.

Rule 2
Simply focus on my workout and leave the gym when I’m done.

Rule 3
Steer clear of the steamroom & sauna. That’s where most meat dealers congregate.

After all, if I don’t learn to protect myself, who will?

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Being late is a disease of the mind. It is a terrible disease that plagues many people and yet these people don’t seem to want to exterminate it at all. It is strange but true.

Someone arranged to meet me at 2.30pm today but only turned up at 3.15pm. Late? Definitely. Apologetic? I don’t think so.

In the minds of these people, it’s perfectly alright to be late. ‘Better late than never’ is the excuse they will inevitably give. There’s always some creative sub-excuses they will use. The bus broke down. There was a bad traffic jam. I left my keys at home. I lost track of time. The taxi driver took the longer route…blah blah blah…It’s always one of these or a variant of them. It’s always someone else’s fault, never their own.

Especially during Chinese wedding banquet dinners, it’s the norm to be late. Should you arrive early, the hosts will think you are one of the hungry ghosts that didn’t return to the other world.

Being late speaks volumes of one’s character. When you are late, it means you don’t respect other people and yourself. If only being late was a matter of life and death, I wonder if people will start treating it seriously.

I gave the late-comer a black face. After all, I can’t be sweet and cordial towards a late-comer and pretend nothing happened, can I? He broke an agreement.

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I’ve always wanted to just laze by the pool, sip some lemonade, listen to the birds sing and enjoy the breeze. I had the chance today.

Here I was lying comfortably on one of these white deck chairs and I thought to myself - what a wonderful world.

No sooner than 3 minutes had passed when I realised that it was not quite the same pretty picture that I had painted in my mind all along.

The white deck chair was hard as rock. The sun was pouring forth its rays of lights with such intensity. There was not a single bird in sight to sing for me. The air was still and humid.

Yes, the grass always looks greener on the other side. The opportunities over there appear better. The environment appears more appealing…

But in reality, the grass does not always looks greener on the other side. I’ve experienced it first hand today. Today, I finally had the chance to just feel and enjoy the grass on the far end which has always been my dream. When I finally got to that stage, it felt no better. What laze by the pool, listen to the birds sing, sip lemonade and enjoy the breeze? Nothing of this sort happened. It was at best a figment of my imagination.

I’m content with where I am now and what I have. My grass is green enough. Ain’t going to move anywhere.

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My past has finally caught up with me. Yes, it’s been revealed. Well, I didn’t go around telling people but somehow they knew. That was how I landed up being invited to write an article for the latest issue of Partner Philippines. Ok, there’s no need to dig my history. I am an English Language Honours graduate. That’s for the record.

Now for the more interesting bit… After interviewing Professor Roberto Mariano, President of the Philippine Bayanihan Society (Singapore) on 29 Apr 09 and submitting the draft a day later, I’ve been waiting for my article to be published.

The waiting process is always agonizing as you never know if your article will be edited beyond recognition or worse, even see the light of day.

Finally, the latest edition of the magazine, a collaboration between the Embassy of Philippines in Singapore and a local publishing firm is sent for print and the hard copy is sitting sizzling hot on my lap.

What was extra sweet was that my article was not edited at all by the magazine editors. They just took it lock stock and barrel. Guess that’s an extra boost that my writing skills have not deteoriated over the years! Hahaha…

Here’s my article. Enjoy!

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To many of us, the world is our oyster. There is always more money to be made at the end of the rainbow, the gleaming new BMW to buy down the road, the sprawling new mansion in District 10 or 11 to hanker for…the list goes on. Because of our insatiable wants, we invariably work our butts off. There really isn’t a second alternative unless you are born with a silver spoon in your mouth or happen to be the lone winner in the lottery draw. Truth is, you really have to work hard for what you want in life. After all, from young, we have been taught that ‘God only helps those who help themselves’ right?

Take a minute to think about it.

On the surface, it makes perfect sense. I’m working hard for a better future for myself and my loved ones. There’s nothing wrong with that. The naysayers are those who choose not to slog their guts out despite having a pair of hands and are physically healthy.

I used to think this way too. But over the last few years, I have changed my thinking. Call me mad. Call me crazy.

There is truth behind my seeming madness. We come into this world with nothing in our hands. So too in the same manner must we return one day taking along nothing with us. It’s such a simple and beautiful concept to me. I’m all for working hard but I’m also equally advocating playing hard. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Just take a quick cursory glance and see how many dull Jacks and Janes there are surrounding us. These people are soulless. They exist only for their next big ticket item.

The concept of impermanence is different from that of leaving a legacy. Nothing we own today – our money, property, shares and even loved ones are permanent. They are just temporary instruments for us in this lifetime. Once our candle has reached its end, we need to bid farewell and move on to the next realm. We cannot bring along our assets nor loved ones.

Since nothing is permanent, why insist on making it permanent? This is something I cannot understand. Even if you engage the best sculptor in town, he cannot cast them into iron.

I’m happy with my lot in life. I’m content with what I have. I’m grateful for the opportunities that have come and will be coming. I’m enjoying my life now. I don’t need a fancy car to prove that I have arrived nor an LV bag to enhance my status. I am just me – plain, simple and happy.

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