Earbuds - the tiny speakers that fit inside your ears - are universally more popular with young listeners than the less stylish headphones, but have been proven by medical research to damage hearing irreparably, and to do so fast.

In the past, it was when you were visiting your elderly relations that you automatically shouted. Now, I do so when addressing children and teenagers who are already - even if not actually wired up at the time that you bellow at them - slightly deaf.

Exposing your ear drums to badly mixed rock music at 110 or 120 decibels is the equivalent of standing near a jet aircraft.

Many young people expose themselves to this level of noise for hours each day. No wonder, when they sit next to you on the bus, they create the infernal nuisance of noise from their earphones. If they turned down the decibels to the level that most of us would consider a normal level for radio or music-listening at home, they would be unable to hear.

It is one more indication of the fragmentation of what has been called our broken society. Cut off from being able to hear one another, we all sit around, locked in our private worlds, deaf to what the person next to us might be saying.

I notice that when I travel on trains, and sit in the 'Quiet Zone', many fellow-passengers believe that they are being quiet because their deaf ears are tuned into these earbuds. You can hear the bass drums and the annoying tsst-tsst-tsst yards away from them, as they sit, rhythmically nodding in their deaf solitude.

Music used to bind us together, whether we liked classical music at concerts, or whether we enjoyed the sort of light pop played on the radio. It still does so to a much greater extent than anything else in our divided society. But the phenomenon of plugging in earbuds removes the social element from musical enjoyment.

There is something bleak about this. Societies are happy when the greater number have mastered social skills, and this must depend upon people learning to appreciate one another.

How can this be done if we are all plugged in to our separate earbuds, shattering what was left of our hearing, and completely insensitive to the nuisance we are creating for the person sitting at our side?

He Wears His Heart On His Sleeve.

I've no doubt that Wayne Rooney is the future Manchester United captain.

Rooney is one of the most complete forwards in the modern game, having improved just about every aspect of his game ever since he left Everton for United. His attacking awareness, pace, power, strength, aggression and vision set him apart from other forwards, making him an indispensible member of any team he plays for. His boundless energy, tenacity, indefatigability and winning mentality endear him to the fans, for we are all too aware of what a delightful gem Rooney is - an exceedingly rare combination of talent, skill, passion and hard work. He has been at Manchester United for six seasons now, and yet he is only twenty-four, with his best years still ahead of him. Rooney has scored 17 goals or more in each season he's been with the club, a consistent if unspectacular tally, but he clearly brings so much more to the team than mere goals. He provides innumerable assists and creates attacking opportunities for his teammates, a testament to his tactical awareness and vision. He has the craft, but this wouldn't mean anything without his willingness to graft. He is a true match-winner, and, in my opinion, is just as important to any team as the Messis and Ronaldos of the world.

Wayne Rooney wears his heart on his sleeve, and no one, in this little sport we call football, embodies the meaning of passion and desire better than he does.

The Art Of Defending

DEFENDERS DESERVE MORE PRAISE THAN THEY RECEIVE, by Rojit Brijnath

When history spits out the names of famous duos, real and imagined, they won't find their names up there with Lennon and McCartney, Magic and Bird, Butch and Sundance. But say this much about the pair of Nemanja Vidic and Rio Ferdinand: They, and their shirt-tugging, fine-tackling, bone-jarring, mind-reading fraternity of defenders, are worth at least part of the price of any football ticket.

In a Champions League week, most conversation will start with Ronaldo and end with Messi. Even Hiddink will earn more centimetres, but defenders will shrug. They're re used to getting praised about as often as accounting clerks and show up on highlight reels even less often than streakers. Unless they produce a massive blooper like Vidic letting Torres go.

The football defender is a job that ranks just higher than being Rafael Nadal's training partner and holding down the ball for the kicker in gridiron. Certainly, it's the unsexiest assignment in the coolest sport. Even goalkeepers get to do their mid-air heroics, but defenders rarely strike such a romantic chord.

It shows in the nicknames. Strikers get called 'Der Bomber' (Gerd Muller) and 'keepers Black Spider (Lev Yashin). But defenders, poor fellows, are left with unsavoury titles like the Butcher of Bilbao (Andoni Goikoetxea).

From childhood we are conditioned to dislike defenders because instinctively we enjoy the adrenalin of attack. The first lines to most sporting hymns as boys were Pele, Maradona, Platini Cruyff, and every one of them functioned best on the creative side of the half-line. It's easy to name an A-Z (Adriano to Zico) of Brazilian strikers and midfielders, but hard to recall even a handful of their defenders.

Strikers have the flair of artists, defenders own the subtlety of an army sergeant major. They looked like Nobby Stiles, all missing teeth and demonic grin, and had the manners of Claudio Gentile, who conducted a footballing assassination on Maradona in 1982.

Forwards create ideas, defenders create havoc. Ever seen what happens during a corner? Elbow in ribs, hand in back, knee on thigh. It's what a collective mugging might look like.

But, like classical music, defenders grow on you. In time, their beauty is revealed. Franco Baresi defended the penalty area like Horatius did his bridge, and Paolo Maldini gave us elegant tutorials in being in the right place when it mattered. 

The best player at the 2006 World Cup was a player who somehow got a shoulder, a leg, a head in the way of an attacker's progress. Of course, he was Italian, too. One might say Fabio Cannavaro could read what attackers would do even before they decided what to do. 

Cannavaro's breed hands out suffering happily because they suffer stoically themselves. Certainly they deserve a few more awards than they have historically been given. Defenders have won the Fifa World Player of the year award only once in 18 years, and the World Soccer magazine World Player of the Year twice in 27 years. 

Still, they don't whine as much as attackers because they're too busy running backwards and sideways yet staying balanced and suggesting they own better eyes than a fly. If there is something happening behind them, they better know it. It is a fine skill under great pressure for if the attacker misses, he can try again, when a defender errs, it's often a goal.

These back-end boys are like tennis' grinders, whose value is evident in their consistency and wear abuse even when good. Chelsea's defennce against Barcelona brought to mind dykes and dams, yet earned them not enough credit.

Teams win obviously because of goals put in, but also because of goals not let in. Vidic has fallen off a little lately and injury has haunted Ferdinand, but Manchester United couldn't think of quintuple, quadruples or three-peats without this twosome. At their best, they and John Terry and Carles Puyol, stand like lean, muscular, unsmiling pillars, who provide not so much thrills as reassurance.

So here's a thought. This week during the Champions League semi-finals, keep an eye on the tall boys at the back. Sure, some days like Liverpool against Arsenal, defenders look clumsy and awful, but let's not be blind to the small, subtle skills they bring every day to the game.

So, watch the cleanliness of interceptions, the exquisite timing of tackles on sprinting wingers, the positioning for headers, the composure under pressure, and raise your hat. And give silent thanks that it's not your delicate ankles that Ferdinand is clattering into.

The Greatest Love Of All.

I can't even begin to count the number of things my mother's done for me over the past twenty-one years. It is an infinite list, I think to myself, one that is filled with so many positive intangibles: love, affection, time, energy, nurturing, patience, care, concern, and advice, all of which can never be bought by money.

So, you want to know just how great a mother's love can be? A simple examination of the day's events will tell us all we need to know about how wonderful my very own mother can be, and the many sacrifices she has made for me, not simply on this day but everyday that I've lived.

My mum had surprisingly awakened before I left the house for work. She saw me dressed in my white polo shirt, looked at me lovingly, and said: "You look very good in that white polo, you should wear them with those new white shoes of yours! Are they comfortable? I'm glad I took the time and effort to handwash your favourite shirts instead of throwing them into the washing machine, because I can see it's paying off!" She took a step back and smiled, admiring her handiwork.

She's been washing my clothes for twenty-one years, and counting. That amounts to approximately 7,700 days. If she washes the clothes, say, once every five days (and I think this is a conservative figure), that still amounts to 1,540 washes. Can you imagining washing clothes 1,500 times for someone else? You'd probably be so annoyed at washing another person's smelly undergarments that you'd throw them back where they came from. And that's still not factoring in the tedious hand-washings, hanging up the clothes to dry, keeping the clothes, or folding and sorting them them neatly. Oh, and I conveniently left out everyone's favourite chore: ironing. Now now, hands up to all those who dare claim that they do not dislike ironing in the slightest. 

Oh, and she just texted me to inform me that she's repaired the strap for my favourite LeSportsac messenger bag, all in the space of a single morning. She's declaring it to be 'as good as new', and, based on her marvellous skill with a needle and thread, I certainly wouldn't bet on the strap snapping again over the next couple of years, at the very least.

HAPPY MOTHER'S WEEK, MUM. You deserve something from me this year, and every year from now onwards.

When A Vacation Is More Than Just A Holiday

It is amazing how what was supposed to be a two-and-a-half week vacation in Australia turned out to be so much more than a simple holiday. The substantial length of time spent away from the comforts of my home allowed me to immerse myself in the Adelaide way of life. I spent four additional days in Melbourne, which provided me with some semblance of comparison between the two drastically different cities. That, however, is a topic of discussion to be discussed at another time. The issue at hand lies in addressing the key differences between the way of life in Adelaide and Singapore. Adelaidians adopt a slower and more relaxed approach towards life, as opposed to the frenetic, breakneck pace with which Singaporeans go about their daily routines. This simple yet fundamental difference is responsible for the contrasts in our lifestyles.

Adelaide and Singapore are both modernized and developed cities which feature excellent public transport networks, medical infrastructure, education, and housing for their citizens. Streets are well-maintained, roads are planned in an orderly fashion, shops range from the classiest boutiques to the humblest convenience stores, and the list goes on. However, what makes a good society great is not in the aforementioned governmental provisions, but the attitude with which its people perform their daily tasks, and the general level of happiness and contentment of its people. Adelaidians know how to enjoy life in ways that Singaporeans can never even dream of, and this is what we lack. Although some will say otherwise, we will never know how to live life to the fullest for as long as we are confined within the boundaries of the state. After all, how can man-made attractions like the Singapore Flyer, the Esplanade and Sentosa ever measure up to the breathtaking nature of the Adelaide Hills, the Outbacks, or the Great Barrier Reef? Blame it on geography, for no matter what we do, we can never fight against the geographical implications of this little red rot, which will always pay the price for its lack of physical space. We are a crowded society with one of the highest population densities in the world, with this figure continuing to rise by the day. Our geographical limitations only serve to create an overwhelming need for personal space. Because space is so incredibly precious, it is a great source of irritance to us when what we consider to be our private space is invaded by others. In the race for space, some of us are guilty of inconsiderate and ungracious moments: we snarl and stare aggressively at others who encroach, and jostle in crowded locations so as to retrieve that last table or seat for ourselves. This situation cannot have been any more different in Adelaide, where space isn't usually a problem, and even when it is (in crowded buses or trams), people tend to act with greater patience and graciousness.

Having returned to work after my vacation, I have since become slightly disillusioned with the number of jaded and disgruntled countenances I encounter to and from work everyday. I can certainly envision myself becoming a template of the typical desk-bound professional in the not-too-distant future. I don't envy the prospect of working eighty-hour weeks. I don't want to face the world behind a mask of cynicism, emptiness and hollow smiles. I wish to carry a spring in every step and greet clients and colleagues with a twinkle in my eye. And I definitely abhor the idea of cramming into packed trains and buses on the way to work. There's no space to breathe, no time to think. As we grow older, we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders. The draining routine of the daily grind quenches our thirst for life in its purest sense, and we grow to become physically and mentally weary, so much so that we have neither the time nor energy to think and reflect about our priorities in life. From young, we have been built to believe in maximizing our potential, in order to realise a dream that we think is ours but is actually someone else's. Alternatively, it could be a dream thought of by our parents, or perhaps, the government has actually hoodwinked them into believing that what's good for the nation is also good for their children. How many of us can safely say that we know what we want in life? Let's face it - life in Singapore is extraordinarily linear and routine, with the margins for error razor thin. What we know of life in Singapore is that it is a tedious and draining ordeal endured by generations past, so why should us, the new generation, be any different? We are generally single-minded in our approach to generate a healthy wage packet for ourselves, that, at times, we lose sight of who we really are, how we treat others, and what's truly important to us in life. Put bluntly (and I am more than guilty of these traits which characterize Singaporeans), we crave independence, money and material wealth, and we are determined to achieve them at all costs. We have been been programmed to believe that academic excellence is the only route to a top career, so we can accumulate wealth for ourselves and feed our materialistic desires, so that, presumably, we can become multi-millionaires by the age of forty and retire comfortably in our old age.

I don't know why I've ranted and digressed from the original topic of interest. What I do know is that I enjoyed every single day I spent in Australia, and, one day, I will probably be migrating from what I deem to be a sorry state of affairs in Singapore. I do not hide that I am a product of the system and that I am grateful towards it for moulding me into the person I am today. At the same time, I recognize what I lack, and I hope that the passing of time will allow me to address my deficiencies and discover who I really am inside, and what I want out of life. In Adelaide, I was lucky enough to have the company of a very special someone, which made the time spent there all the more memorable. But the city itself definitely played a major role in ensuring a wonderful vacation. The Adelaide society, from what I can decipher over a period of two-and-a-half-weeks, is a more inclusive and outgoing society. Adelaidians, in my opinion, are a generally happier bunch of people than Singaporeans ever will be. It just seems to me that we are never content with what we have because of the pressured life we lead. Adelaidians definitely extend a greater sense of graciousness, courtesy and respect to others around them. I've witnessed animal and insect exhibitions hosted in the heart of a major shopping district, and students from various schools going on field trips to markets to learn about cheese and yoghurt. These kids certainly do not pursue thermal physics or electrolysis as their core subjects. And while they are unlikely to match the mathematical and scientific abilities of Singapore childen, they are more in touch with their interests and are given greater scope to discover the tangible things in their world. Some learn about the different animals which exist in the many wildlife sanctuaries scattered throughout South Australia, about astronomy and the constellation of stars, about the Australian deserts and the environment, about Australian Football and its history, about conflicts in the world, about moral issues and current affairs. Some learn to bake the most remarkable pies and cakes and muffins and sell them for a living. Most importantly, they are given sufficient space to seek answers and think deeply about the issues which interest them, instead of being shepharded into a strict Ministry of Education regime which inhibits their ability to think for themselves. On the other hand, the brightest Singaporean kids are also, unfortunately, the most linear examples of how education can backfire. Ask them about current affairs, about monetary and financial issues; ask them to think out of the box, to invent and innovate; throw them into the deep end without a set syllabus, and the result is always the same - even the brightest students will inevitably panic and struggle.

I guess I'll have to save my ramblings for another day. And perhaps the old adage holds true, that the grass is always greener on the other side. Then again, the magnificent foliage present in the Hills is undoubtedly a fresher and more vibrant shade of green when compared to the greenery we have in Singapore. The Hills was an amazing experience thanks to its breathtaking scenery and fresh air, while Melbourne was mostly hustle and bustle with fantastic food and fun shopping adventures. Oh, and Australia has the most diverse selection of wine ever. Well, I'll find another time to post again then! It has certainly been a fantastic holiday, and definitely one of the best ever.

Two Weeks.

The clock is ticking even as I am typing this.

My hair's so darned short, but I don't care.

Only two weeks more and I'm off to paradise.

Officially The Owner Of The Best Birthday Present In the World

As of the 16th of March 2009, I am officially the owner of the Best Birthday Present (BBP) in the world! :) I can't hide how thrilled I am by it. It means so much to me and I'm going to keep it with me for the rest of my life. Really, anyone who sees it will agree its the nicest thing ever. I am the LUCKIEST GUY in the world. 

Patience.

Patience is a virtue. 

Sometimes, the best things in life come to those who wait for it.

I am waiting, patiently, expectantly.

28 days and counting.

Singapore: The Tenth Most Expensive City To Live In

Singapore is now ranked 10th most expensive city in the world, but economists here note that this reflects sharp exchange rate movements rather than changes in living costs.

Dramatic shifts in currency values have propelled Singapore towards the top of a survey of the world's most expensive cities. The Republic leapt five places to 10th costliest city in the world in just six months, as European cities like Brussels and Dublin have become relatively cheaper places following the euro's plunge in value, according to the Economist Intelligence Unit (EIU) survey of 140 cities. London fell from 8th to to an incredible 27th on the list - reflecting the near 30 per cent depreciation of the British pound against the dollar over a half-year period.

Report editor Jon Copestak said: "Two factors drive the relative cost of living - local prices and exchange rates. Normally, the ranking of cities by cost of living is relatively stable, but in the current global climate, changes in exchange rates have significantly altered our assessment of the most and least expensive cities."

Analogies and Quotations

Dr Linda Lim

On Her Choice Analogy Of Singapore

"Singapore is like a tropical fish tank - beautiful, luxurious but expensive to maintain, and very vulnerable to balance in the water and loss of other external inputs. And even if everything works well, all the time, it is still just a fish tank, not the ocean itself, with its greater dangers, challenges, opportunities and treasures."

On Her Greatest Worry For Singaporeans

"That by clinging to the past and being wedded to old models and old ideas in a world rapidly changing beyond our control, in refusing to change, in being risk-adverse and conservative, the country and the people will end up being marginalised in the new global market economy, unable to compete with other more energetic, self-reliant, entrepreneurial and innovative populations, and being overtaken by them."

On Thinking And Saying

"I say what I think. A lot of people here think the same way but not say it. There's a "Don't quote me culture here, such that bad ideas don't get shot down and good ideas don't get volunteered."

On The Best Way Forward For Singapore

The way forward for Singapore, she says, is to allow the market to diversify on its own, with resource allocation done by market forces and entrepreneurs, instead of the state and bureaucrats.

"Do we devote our carefully husbanded national savings, accumulated over generations, to letting the state make big bets on a few major, capital-intensive, risky and expensive projects?

"Or do we privatise the economy, releasing capital and talent to local entrepreneurs to create value in smaller but nimbler enterprises? At least, if they fail, it will take only small parts, rather than big chunks, of the economy down with them.

"It's much better to send out 100 motorboats, rather than one huge aircraft carrier, into the unknown. I would bet on at least some of the motorboats making it, instead of the aircraft carrier, a sitting duck, which could get blown up."

Barack Obama, on the importance of education:

"In a 21-st century world where jobs can be shipped wherever there's an Internet connection; where a child born in Dallas is competing with children in Delhi; where your best job qualification is not what you do, but what you know - education is no longer just a pathway to opportunity and success, it is a prerequisite. So let there be no doubt: the future belongs to the nation that best educates its citizens."