Moleskine® - Legendary Notebooks

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I'm a big tech gadget freak, and I'm always in the local Apple shop checking out the latest desirable Apple product. Yes, I'm an unabashed Apple fan boy, but the strange thing is, I haven't gone out bought myself the iPad2, not even the iPad. I'm typing away on the MacBook Pro, and I didn't hesitate spending on this lovely piece of equipment, because this is what I do my work with, and also for its style. But with the iPad, it's just an oversized iPhone to me. If I have to carry around the iPad, the only reason would be because it's friendlier on my aging eyes (stay away, presbyopia horribilis!). And perhaps for the purpose of sending mails. But apart from that, I won't carry it into meetings and start taking notes with it although there is a Moleskine app for iPad.

Earlier this evening, I was in Borders checking out Moleskine^® notebooks, and my wife was curious why I would looking at something that's old school (Yes yes, hold back the "old man" jokes, won't you?). I do bring my laptop into meetings and discussions to take notes, but only because the information would need to be archived or sent out to other parties, and there really isn't any sense in scribbling in a notebook, then transferring them into the laptop. And there's worry about this notebook crashing. I can shake it all I want, and drop it.

There is just something about the good old pen/pencil on paper. I have a nice trusty (very dog eared) spiral notebook which I had been using for years, in which I've scribbled ideas for work in progress, reminders, and pictures. I like scrawling some form of a mindmap, arrows all over the page linking one point to another, using different colours for effect.. it's just not something that a software could quite do as efficiently as pen and paper. And there's just something about the feel of paper. Plus you can flip through the pages of a notebook to look for something that you had penned some years ago, without having to worry whether you'd synced it from your other electronic devices.

What's the big deal with a Moleskine^® notebook? I wish I can tell you that I love the fact that it's made from acid-free, it's handmade, that their suppliers are ISO1400... but I have to admit that I'm shallow. For that kind of price (S$37 for a 5x8 inch notebook), I can easily buy a couple of these from an art shop. The elastic band that hold the covers together reminds me of the army issued ones that I used when I was serving my National Service. 

Why do I find it desirable? There's just something in the way it feels:  the cover and the paper.. then there're the sightings of Moleskine^® notebooks in movies such as National Treasure and Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain. Nothing quite sells like a well-placed product in a movie. Although I must say that I'm also impressed (yes, I'm easily impressed anyway) that each notebook comes with its own identification number for the purpose of reporting any defects.

Would I succumb to the lure of consumerism and buy a Moleskine^®? Perhaps.. but the cheapo that I am, I would probably scour for cheaper options first.

Randomness From My Memories of Australia

As mentioned in my first post, this blog is a platform for me to share about my memories and also to remind me of what my life had been when I lose my memories. And some of the best memories were the ones of my years in Australia, where I was privileged to have studied and done some work.

I have to say that I'm tremendously thankful to my dad for gathering the resources to send me to Australia to obtain my degree in Physical Education after very indifferent results in the GCE "A" levels. Australia was a perfect choice: it was close enough compared to the US and UK, the exchange rate was pretty reasonable then, and for my personal reasons, the onslaught of the Aussie culture in the late 80s and early 90s.

In a nutshell, my years in Australia gave me the best education in life that I could ever have. There were many unforgettable memories: made some tremendously wonderful friends, bad experiences with people, wavered with my educational pursuits, seen the underside of Australian society.. My life has been very much shaped by the experiences in Australia, although most of the life lessons didn't quite sink in until the last 5 years or so. I often reminisced about the times that I'd had when I was in Australia, in particular when times have tough for me. But that's the funny thing, because I often miss my family in Singapore during the quiet moments in Australia, wondering what my parents were doing. It was also at that point in time when I started reconciling (internally) with my dad, and appreciating my parents. I guess it's called "growing up".

Despite being an outsider, the years in the Lucky Country is easily the best years of mine simply because of the experiences that I'd had. In the coming posts, I'll be posting recollections of my life in Australia. Do come back and walk me with down my memory lane.

In the meantime, have a listen to this song called "I Still Call Australia Home", written and originally performed by Australia songwriter/entertainer, Peter Allen. Qantas has been using it for their ad campaigns, and it always gives me goosebumps.

My New Project: Candids of My Friends

There are two things that my wife and I enjoy doing when we get a chance to visit the mall: visit a supermarket and browsing through the bookstore. A particular section that I always visit are the books on photography.

I am a walking oxymoron. No, I'm no moron although there might be many who agree that I am. I love beautiful stuff yet I have no sense of creativity whatsoever. Photography is just one of the many areas that I love but I'm hopelessly inept in creating something that is beautiful. I know that I will never be able to create works of art, stuff that people will go "OOH! Look at that photograph! How did he do it?".

Photographing humans is something that I avoid as much as I could although I do enjoy taking candid pictures of human emotions, hoping to let the emotions tell the story. I simply cannot do a portrait at all, where you would have to compose the picture, and that is something that I do not know how to do. While browsing through Annie Leibovitz's book of portraits, I was so inspired by the awesome photos by the former chief photographer of Rolling Stones magazine.

I have been blessed to have met many people in my life, some who have impacted upon me more than others, and in good ways and bad. In the same way that I want to document the events of my life, I want to photograph candids of my dear friends. My dream is that through photographs, I am able to capture spontaneous moments of them, moments that define them. Here's the first one, of our dear friend, Antia. This picture was taken when we sent her off at the airport after her month long stay in Singapore. While it isn't a candid, I like this picture because it typifies her: fun loving and spontaneous, and happy. She's a dear friend of ours who's been with us through some significant moments of our lives. And look carefully in this picture and you might be able to spot a "mystery face" somewhere!

If you're interested in following this series, I'll be posting them in a Blogger friendly format on this blog. Look out for it!

My Life, My Music

Sunday morning, and I've got the frenetic beat of New Order's "Age of Consent" playing in the background. The sun is shining, and I'm in a semi medication induced haze. Life is good.. no, I'm not about to become a druggie, thank you for your concern. It's the music that's lifting me.

Kat and other friends had expressed amazement at one point or another at how much I seemed to know about music, the trivia, the bits of information, the meaning behind the songs. I guess the only reason I could give for it was that it was music that kept me going in the very confused and turbulent times of my teenage years. My home was always filled with music, with mum's cassette tapes (who remembered those relics? As my friend, Jin, remarked on our recent trip to Manado, Indonesia, "WHOA!! I just saw that they're still selling cassette tapes!!") playing as she pottered around the house, my brothers blasting their individual choices of music. One had more contemporary choices, while the other was into the more moody stuff of Lou Reed and Ziggy Stardust (now known as David Bowie), but both dissected the meaning behind the songs.

As I started secondary school then located just outside Orchard Road (the main shopping area of Singapore), I had access to bookstores like the old Times The Bookstore (which has since been reduced to just a handful of branches), where I was able to browse through music based magazines like Smash Hits and Number One. I devoured every bit of information in the mags, reading the lyrics to discover the meaning behind songs, being exposed to artistes that I've never heard before back then in Singapore like the Cocteau Twins, Billy Bragg, Siouxie and The Banshees, etc. Even bands like New Order and The Cure hardly received any airplay on the local radio stations which catered largely to the mainstream taste, and even then, there was an official playlist that was to be strictly adhered to so as to prevent "social chaos". Such as the times.

As I struggled through secondary school, managing the teenage angst, I started delving into the darker side of music, and was fascinated with the early deaths of musicians, and was particularly fixated by the story of Joy Division's Ian Curtis. Ian was a typical man, a flawed one with the usual weaknesses, and he had hung himself in May 1980 just before Joy Division was to embark on their American tour, but also at time when his marriage was faltering and his epilepsy was worsening. That started the dark phase of my life when I became obsessed with suicide being a viable option. I'd subscribed to the rock and roll mantra of "live hard, die young and leave a good looking corpse". There had been so many rock and roll icons who had gone that way, and Jim Morrison of The Doors was another character whom I grew to admire. Like Ian Curtis, Jim wasn't just a musician to me, but a poet and writer.

Ian's songs were filled with imageries of isolation and dejection, themes that I had identified with as I struggled to find my identity in school. I started dabbling with writing stuff of own, as I became more interested in literature. It was really nothing to shout about, but what I didn't realise was, the dark words of the longing for death, escapism, feeling of being rejected and unloved.. they all actually gave me a release (albeit temporary) from the downward spiral I was going through, and possibly saved me from any worse harm I was doing to myself. So my answer to the question about my knowledge of music, is that it saved my life. Without it, I might already have been be a pile of ash.

What role did music play in your life, especially when you were growing up? Do share it by leaving your comments below, and if you like this entry, please click on the "Like" button above. Cheers!