Meaning Of Life... *ahem*

Today a new cubicle-decoration circulated amongst our team.

A poster which most of us promptly pinned-up on our cubicle walls the moment we got our hands on it. Granted, it was a very eye-catching poster.

Simply titled "Meaning Of Life", it is precisely what the title says. Summarizing the meaning of our entire life, all in a single 8.5 x 11 inch sheet of paper. And, strange and amusing as it may seem, it DOES cover pretty much everything in life. Here's what it wrote...

Meaning Of Life

Be born. Go to school. Do well. Graduate. Look for a Job. Find a Job. Make money. Make more money. Save money. Meet somebody. Go out with somebody. Move in with somebody. Marry somebody. Make money. Move up the ladder at work. Make more money. Have a baby. Buy a house. Make money. Get up and go to work. Come home and watch television. Have another baby. Make more money. Buy things at Wal-Mart. Mow the lawn. Make more money. Have another Baby. Buy a car that can seat a family of six. Buy Elmo videos for the kids. Make money. Have another baby. Go see the latest romantic comedy movie. Make more money. Take a vacation to Disneyland. Eat at McDonald's. Call the plumber when the sink is broken. Make more money. Say "I love you" to your spouse on occasion. Send the kids to school. Make more money. Cast your vote for "American Idol". Go to your High-School Reunion. Make more money. Take up Golf. Give the kids advice about stuff. Send the kids to college. Take Bayer aspirin for your Arthritis. Get kind of fat. Become a Grandparent. Finish making money. Retire. Get old. Die.

Pretty thought-provoking stuff. No doubt, it was amusing, but yet profound.

And it made me think. Sometimes it's funny how we tend to look at life as something so totally complicated. We spend so much time just thinking of what we want to do, what's gonna happen in the future, what about purpose in life, and stuff like that. When in actual fact, most of life is spent on those seemingly 'simple' things which we don't even sit down and think about. That's probably the realist's way of looking at things.

Then came my pessimistic side, interrupting my train of realist thoughts...

What if life just isn't as complicated or as 'meaningful' as we feel it is? Too often, I spend ages sitting and thinking of what the future will be like, what I'll be doing, will I achieve my goals and ambitions, you get the drift. Would I be driving my dream car, with my fave Ibanez electric guitar in the trunk, as my two hands fumble to switch gears, cling on to the steering wheel, forage for my lipgloss nestled somewhere inside my Dior handbag as I speed-dial my hairstylist for my appointment in the afternoon. And usually, life isn't that dramatic after all. I guess only time will tell how the future would actually be.

Then another thought crosses my mind. Why don't I make a checklist from all the items in the article, and check them off one-by-one as I achieve them? Obviously, I have the ability to check every item in the list, except the last one, i.e. "Die" (like you had to ask). Of course, I could tell everyone about my list, so when I finally "cease-inhaling-oxygen-and-exhaling-carbon-dioxide", someone could help to check it, and frame it up, and place it over my tombstone or something creepy of that sort. Then again, that's a lil too creepy for my liking. Oh well.

I guess that's what life's all about. It's not just the extravagant, outrageous stuff which movies talk of... you know, things that feeble, mere mortals *ahem* like me would sit and imagine having someday (nevermind the fact that it's almost out-of-reach, a little dreaming never hurt anyone) - Like getting a record deal, playing alongside Joe Satriani, John Petrucci and Steve Vai in a G3 concert, driving a coupe that changes color according to my mood with an uber-cool audio system, two golden retrievers clad in Burberry coats and a shih-tzu with a haircare regimen that rivals Jennifer Aniston.

I guess sometimes the little things matter too, trivial things we do that we never realize the significance of. Having the chance to spend time with the people who mean a lot to us. Or playing music and enjoying it even if I may never have the chance to play alongside Joe Satriani, John Petrucci and Steve Vai. Things like that.

It jolts the mind whenever a reality-check like this kicks in. And it makes me wonder if my life (whatever's left of it, at least) would have the tiniest glimmer of hope to turn out extraordinarily. Or if it's not even gonna be all of the stuff in that 8.5 x 11 inch sheet of paper.

And I know it may not be possible to have all that I wish for. But deep inside, I do hope for at least a little more than just the ordinary.

The BodyPump disaster...

Just gotten back from the gym, feeling just a teensy-weensy bit tired. The reason behind the "teensy-weensy" as opposed to my usual "I'm so gonner kapoot!" tired, is the fact that I didn't find today's BodyPump class tiring at all. And that ain't a good thing. Two reasons why : (1) Not enough space (2) Not enough plates.

Reason Numero Uno that caused my distress is the mere fact that the Energy Studio was packed today. And I don't mean packed as in "a really full class of humans". I mean, a glass-doored room packed full ('to the brim', if I may use that term, cuz it felt like an aquarium anyway) of people, step-boards, bricks (the stepping-board ones, not the ones people use in construction), barbells, plates, exercise mats, water bottles and towels. Full to the extent that it felt almost as if people would practically roll out, hanging onto barbells for dear life, should the doors burst open.

The class was scheduled to start at 6.10pm. Time-check 6.05pm and I'm practically running into the Energy Studio - towel, gloves, and water bottle in hand (for which I paid a few extra cents today because I grabbed the bottle and told the girl at the counter "It's alright, keep the change, I'm late for class") only to see the whole room chock-full of people already. Then I spotted Alex (my fellow BodyPump buddy at the gym) and after much looking, he helped me to find a spot measuring approximately 3 x 5 feet, and I ran and grabbed the step-board, and those nifty BodyPump equipment.

And that's when Item-Of-Distress-Numero-Dos surfaced.

The first rack had only 0.5kg and two oddly-sized 2.5kg plates left. The second rack had nothing. Zilch. Six dismal 0.5kg plates in hand, I asked Alex if I could use the plates from the free weights area, but he said they'd be too heavy for me to use, so he gave me two of his 2.5kg plates instead. So that was all I had for the class, a maximum of 4kg on each side, causing me much anguish not from the pain but the lack thereof. And I have every right to feel distressed. Doing squats with 4kg on each side makes me feel as tired as it does to walk from my cubicle to the cafeteria at work. (Read: It feels like nothing at all.)

One thing it made me appreciate was Alex who was nice enough to give me those 2.5kg plates. Otherwise I'd have gone through the entire class with 1.5kg on each side (and the minimum is 2.5kg each side, so I'm not even touching minimum with that). Still I'm kinda upset about the whole thing. One sentence sums it all: "What do you mean I'm spendin' almost two-hundred-bucks a month for this?" Sigh. It's not that it happens everytime, but still I have the right to be a tad upset. I like to push myself, and wanted so much to work harder today, and I didn't get the chance to.

I'm trying to get my mind off the whole BodyPump disaster, and think of tomorrow's class being better. It's Paul's 8.30pm class so hopefully the gym wouldn't be so InSaNeLy-packed then. I'm planning to add some weights and push myself a lil more, cuz I can't go for classes this Friday and that kinda bogs me down.

But BodyPump glooms aside, RPM was good =) Bumped into Alan a.k.a. my-fave-RPM-instructor on my way to the changing rooms, and talked about the new release, last Friday (Merdeka Day classes which I didn't attend, and found out today that he didn't instruct it either so I don't regret missing it, haha) and me not being able to attend class this Friday cuz I'll be working. And he was like "bring your notebook, workout and do your work at the same time lar" (giggle) and I wish I could. Today Alan played the new RPM release, so I wasn't quite familiar with the tracks yet, but overall the class was great. Somehow I'm more enthusiastic and tend to work harder in RPM classes lately due to the fact that I do miss them a lot, not being able to attend them sometimes due to work has made me appreciate the days when I do get to go for them. I still wish I didn't have to miss this Friday's RPM class *sob*. All I can do is look forward to next Monday then.

Enough of blogging for now, it's probably time to have dinner and catch some sleep. Tomorrow's another long workday. Work aside, I can, I will, I must go for BodyPump tomorrow. *grins*

BodyPump, and my telepathic RPM instructor...

Arrived at the gym at 6.00pm, just in time to jump into my gym clothes and grab my gloves, gatorade and towel and practically brisk-walk to the Energy Studio. Bumped into Alex on the way (he was grabbing those 10kg plates which I fondly view as "darn things which when I watch people lift, makes me feel excruciating pain and exhaustion although I only have 5kg on my barbell"), and he was like "You're late! No more plates already!" which made me shift from brisk-walk-mode to running-mode, haha. Managed to grab four 2.5kg plates and six 0.5kg plates which is a lil less than what I have been using to torment myself lately, but is sufficient. Hey, it's monday, I'm just warming up to the week. (Oh, the sheer joy of giving excuses =P)

BodyPump class was alright, somehow I felt tired kinda early in the class, but it's probably cuz of the un-gymmer-ish food I've been putting into my system over the weekend (tons of McD's, caffeine, and a substantial amount of Jepunese food at Sakae Sushi) and the fact that it's Monday, but despite the tiredness, I did increase some weights and it didn't hurt that much, so I wasn't dying yet or anything of that sort. I always expect so much out of myself, and somehow I feel I'm not pushing myself enough *sigh*

Anyway, today the gym started the first day ever of that "Registration is required for all Spinning Classes" policy, so I had to head right for the main counter right after BodyPump, to write my name down and to get some lil card thingy which apparently gives us a spot in the Spinning Studio. Then as I was walking towards the changing rooms, there was this guy smiling and I knew that I know this guy, I just couldn't put my finger to it, so I smiled back. And then after my poor lagging brain processed, it was Alan, my fave RPM instructor. And I just HAD TO interrupt his workout to strike up conversation, haha. It's pretty cool really, he was talking about his triathlon this weekend, and mentioned that there are different types of triathlons, there's some that even go up to 15-16 hours. And me, in my utter frustration and shock, asked "Don't they have breaks in between and stuff?" To which he said they didn't, and that taking a break could actually get you kicked-out cuz you need to finish the whole thingy in a certain amount of hours, i.e. that 16 hours and stuff. And he even said "there's many types of triathlons, you could try the mini-triathlon" which sounds really nice, but I warned him that he should be prepared to drag me along with a rope in the event of me not being able to carry-on after 10 minutes of da competition =P
He also asked if I knew what a triathlon was, and then asked if I could swim, to which I had to fess up and admit my usual "I can go forward, but I can't float." (And now that I think of it, sheesh, I should have asked more than just joked, cuz hey, this guy's a pro triathlon athlete, I should've taken the opportunity to listen more...oh well, I'll have my second chances)

Then this part (which was actually in the middle, we diverted from sports to work, then back to sports, haha) came, he mentioned about me not going to the gym much the past few weeks (cuz I was practically missing-in-action from his classes for like 3 weeks *guilt tortures me, sigh*)

And an excerpt from the conversation with Alan. In order to get the whole funny-ness of the conversation, it's important to note that in the past, I have never told him where I worked nor even mentioned before that I worked in Da-Field-Of-Computing or anything akin to that.

Alan : You haven't been coming to the gym for quite some time already. Why? 
Me : Work lor. (with that tone and rolled-eyes that I inflict on innocent people who ask me about the unfortunate days that I do not get to head for the gym)
Alan : How come work till like that one?
Me : Yeah, sometimes I need to work from home as well. Working till late mar.Alan : How come need to work from home? What u working as? *and then he pauses a moment to think, and without waiting for my answer to the previous 2 questions, the next statement followed* You working in Dell is it?

ROTCGFLMGBOMH - Rolling On The Carpeted Gym Floor, Laughing My Gatorade Bottle Outta My Hands.

Oh well.

The PaintBall Ordeal...

Today is Paintball Day! =)
And for the unfamiliar… (words in parentheses by Yours Truly)
“Paintball is a sport in which participants eliminate opponents from play by hitting them with paintballs (da lil funky-lookin’ colorful balls filled with paint) shot from a compressed-gas-powered “marker” (this is The-Gun-Thingy). The first paintballs were created by the Nelson Paint Company in the 1950s for forestry service use in marking trees from a distance, and were also used by cattlemen to mark cows (don’t we all feel moo-ish at some point =P).
Arrived at PISA at around 11am and they did the registration and paperwork and blah-blah. There were altogether 9 of us. Then came Cardiac Arrest Numero Uno - we had to sign this paper with our name, IC number, cell number. Why, you might ask. "In case you die!", said James. Aptly and concisely put.
So before we actually started, we had a briefing by one of those ‘professional’ paintball players. And here’s what I got from the briefing…

• The-Gun-Thingy is called a Marker. Quoting the guy, "From now on, you will no longer call this a gun, you will call this a marker". (Sir, yes sir =P)
• The "paintball was initially used to mark cows and trees" thingy. (And I thought it was inspired by war or at least something more violent. Oh well.)
• The Paint is "one-hundred-percent-biodegradable and is even halal" (What a relief. Now I have the assurance that my Adidas ClimaCool Steffi-Graf-tribute tank-top will escape unharmed after the whole ordeal.)
• After the guy was done explaining about the Paint, he said "And now let’s talk about the PAIN. If you get hit, the pain lasts for 3 minutes, but the scar lasts for 3 weeks."
• Then comes Cardiac Arrest Numero Dos - "Always have your mask on. If you get shot in the eye, the paintball will REPLACE your EYEBALL." And yes, that was a word-by-word quotation from the briefing.
• And as our group was made up of 80% guys, questions about ‘da crotch-shot’ arose. For the curious, this is what the briefer says, "It’s painful, but still can use lah. That’s the most important thing right?". Oh well. Guys and their priorities. I rest my case.

So before our turn came, the guy who briefed us showed us his own marker. It has a light and laser and a whole bunch of thingamajigs and whatchamacallits. Apparently these things go up to thousands of bucks. Now that’s a whole lot of dough. And seems there’s even extravagant stuff like Paintball Bazookas and Paintball Grenades. Imagine if I had some of those *giggle*.
After the briefing and the long wait, it was finally our turn. It was kinda fun suiting-up, we had a protective jacket thingy that looked a lil like those bulletproof vests, but thinner, of course. (It’s just paint, honey, it ain’t a bomb.) And then there’s this mask that looks like huge goggles with nose and mouth protection. And helmets that came in 2 different colors (black or camouflage-patches) to help us differentiate our teams. Uber-cool stuff.
Walking into the paintball area was even more uber-cool. The “whoa” feeling. That is, until I saw the “Masks-On Area” sign which reminded me of the whole “The Paintball will replace your Eyeball” phrase. That made me double-check my mask. HA.
The first round was not much for me cuz I was kinda clueless. But my team won and I survived. That was nice. Strangely I was a lil upset that I did NOT get shot. No, I’m not weird. It’s just that I do feel that I somehow would not get the whole paintball EXPERIENCE unless I got splattered all over with paint. And I verbalized my disappointment on not being shot, which made Clarence go “alright, the next round, we’ll all shoot Pauline” and we laughed. Somehow I did wish it would happen. All I can say is “Be careful what you wish for, cuz you just might get it.” And get it, I did.
The second round came. I fired more shots and was getting into the game. And then I decided to take shelter behind 2 cans/tins. Smartest decision I ever made in my life. The 2 cans had this tiny gap in between, and everybody was able to see me sheltering behind them. My pillarbox-red top wasn’t doing me any good either. The opposing team kept firing shots over in my direction and it’s plain traumatizing cuz everytime a bullet hits one of those cans, you hear an insanely loud *KeR-pLuNk!* which gets amplified a thousand times with the helmet on your head. Even though you don’t get hit, the *KeR-pLuNk!* is loud enough to make me jump out of your skin, and into one of those darn cans. And then I got spattered with paint, which was sooo oily. So this is what James’ meant when he said “it’s vegetable oil”. It was pretty awful to have the oily, fluorescent yellow goo all over my hand. And then Joe shouted from the other end, “Pauline’s out!”, and I heard James shouting back “PAULINE IS IN!”. After a shot and what seemed like forever, the round was over. And I came out so utterly frazzled and everyone was like “Pauline, are you alright?” (it must’ve shown in my eyes cuz I had my mask on then), and helped me to get my helmet and mask off. And yes, I got a bruise! Strangely it wasn’t as painful as I expected (hoped) for it to be. Some of them were saying the shots hurt, but then I was practically complaining that it “wasn’t painful enough”, to which James said “You’re such a sadist!” hahaha. I guess I kinda like to really get tormented, it’s like working out. No pain, no strain, no fun. It’s only when you feel the push, and the pain, that it feels great. Maybe I am quite a sadist. Haha =P
Third and fourth rounds were better though. I kinda warmed up after the two rounds, and was getting used to all this. And didn’t get shot at all *grins*. Plus I fired a lot. I’m starting to like this thing more and more =) Overall it was great fun. Messy but fun. And it’s cool stuff. It was nice to do something kinda active too, especially cuz I didn’t work-out the entire week, so it feels good to get all hyper again. I wasn’t that tired, so I guess it’s true that working-out regularly helps to increase your stamina. Hey, way back then I wouldn’t even run 100-metres without huffing (and grumbling, haha), but this time I didn’t feel tired. I could’ve gone for RPM after that. Okay, maybe not RPM. Hehe.
But it sure was fun. I thought I’d be chickened-out by all the combat-ish, hyper-ish stuff but I actually liked it. Loved it, to be honest. The bruise’s fading fast though. It hurts just a tiny-teensy-weensy bit if I pressed real hard on it with my finger, but besides that it wasn’t painful. Now, does anybody want to go again? *grins*