Frog Boiled Alive

You do know what happens when you boil a live frog, don't you?

Knocking off, I managed to catch a lift home and had a curious conversation about career planning, organizational structure, global economics and life in the public service.

Never mind that my new balding acquaintance readily introduced himself as "strange" and began on a spiel of his career bloopers over the past decade or so.



To cut the story short, his take is that wealth will increase globally but wealth distribution will not improve - the richer get richer while middle classers like me will only have to slog harder.

He likened staying in the civil service to an island surrounded by rising waters and people scrambling to prove their strategic value to remain on the island. Kinda sounds like Survivor meets the Apprentice.

His take? Learn to swim. Even better, go swim in China or India.

I Love the Way You Look

Quote of the day: You look like you are from Mindef

Thankfully that remark wasn't directed at me, though the recipient didn't catch it till I repeated it with a chuckle.

Retort: 7 months is enough to get that comment coming



Attended the Spring-organized conference "Best Practices in Customer Service" today. Held at Meritus Mandarin, food and service were expectedly great. Attendance was overwhelming, there must have been 500 people present. But not surprising, given Singapore's positioning as a service hub.

Among the lessons learnt, I've realized that it ain't easy to be a customer service officer (CSO), regardless of which industry you're in, be it F&B, hoteling, healthcare, banking, tourism etc.

As one speaker surmised, customers have unlimited expectations but we have limited resources.

A major thread that ran across the discussions was the concern about motivating and training service staff. Considering how service staff need to be all of immensely knowledgeable about products & services, adeptly skillful, puffed up with pride, and displaying a professional AND amiable AND patient attitude, I think I really look at CSO's in a different light now.

Natalie Dee

Sniff

Busy-ness

Apologies to my fans *wave wave* for the lack of entries over the past week. Have been busy - attended a course on Business Continuity Management over 2 days & attending a Revival Conference over 3 nights. And generally not much inspiration.

Quote of the day: "You are what you eat... & read & think & say"

Today: Mr Brown's Fri Column

Life is getting scary, Mummy ...

An amusing take on the kiasu & kiasee S'porean.

Working

Leaving the office late, I walk out through the cold & quiet lobby.

The sky's darkening, the road's quiet.

A feeling of calm tiredness remains.

Work

V Day: D Day or The Day

Twice last week people's questions about my plans for monday drew a blank look.

"Eh... what's happening on monday?"

That's right, I'm single... and proud of it.

Today, I snorted and flicked my nose to every sms of heartfelt Valentine's Day greetings.

"Nuttin 2 celebr8."

What's so special about V day anyway?

The hopeless romantics say it's a day to proclaim one's love through the extravagant shower of intense affection.

*cue television ad*

Flowers, diamond necklace, lingerie, chocolates, dinner at Top of the M: $$$$$++++

Electric moment when eyes lock: Priceless

For everything else, there's .

The utter pragmatists (usually male, sometimes balding) protest against the wanton commercialization where florists, chocolater makers, jewellers and restaurateurs alike benefit from the simple rule of Economics 101 - Supply & Demand.

Yes, women demand.

Coyly, of course. Some will even reject it outright, yet secretly yearn for that bouquet of roses.

Beware, for hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn.

What else can men do but to hope that a greater reward is waiting at the end of the evening - usually a misguided thought that leaves him high and dry.

Hence the expensive wine.

Oh, don't forget, the bigger the bouquet, the more intense the jealousy aroused in colleagues.

Make sure you get it up to her office first thing in the morning.

So size does matter. Period.

Received this in the mail today: Certified Penetration Testing Professional.

Turns out this adult-oriented title is actually a course on computer hacking. But I'm sure our ladies could do with some reprogramming.

On this very same day, the sad singletons hang out and christen it Friendship Day.

Yup, who better to mourn your failures in one relationship after another than fellow failures?

WHAT?! Never been kissed?? I feel better now.

Remember V the TV series? The one where reptilian aliens disguised as humans invade earth and try to take over the world. When confronted, they shed their human skins to reveal their hideous green selves beneath.

Kinda sounds like marriage.

Happy Valentine's Day. Enjoy it while it lasts.

What Roots?

painting by Xue Jiye

Today's ST ran the articles of 4 Singaporeans each defining their own Chinese identity:

• What it means to be hua ren, a chinese
• Less rigid, not less chinese
• No getting away from my roots
• I won't toss out my salad bowl heritage

Incidentally, I recently wondered if my grandfather would appreciate a visit to his hometown in Shantou, China. After all, there's so much of my roots that I do not know. I also wonder how much of his hometown would he actually recognize, having been away for more than half a century.

When I visited my mom's eldest brother, there was a sepia-toned picture of my grandfather, his siblings and some sworn brothers. Posing with expressionless faces, they were all decked in Western-style suits with hair slicked back. My cousin then pointed out that the "gold" accessories they had on them were all painted on. And on closer look, the crude image-editing became apparent.

But knowing my roots wouldn't make me feel more chinese, would it? Or more Singaporean, for that matter. I definitely see myself as Singaporean, albeit a shallow sense of identity meshed with Singapore's brief history.

What then defines our roots for us? Is it tradition, customs or patois? If yes, then my roots are getting eroded pretty fast.

On the topic of living with parents, a friend commented wistfully that most young Singaporeans long for the day they can stretch their wings and flap off to their own nests (HDB or otherwise) in a proud manifestation of their independence.

In a different conversation about a coming house warming, another friend also voiced his desire to get his own apartment. "Isn't it a curse to be Asian?" he remarked.

Perhaps they, having seen how our Western counterparts are booted out of their homes the moment they turn 18, are more liberalized than I am. But it sounds like a fairly presumptuous to me to state that young Singaporeans value independence more than family.

For one, I love my family and see it as my obligation to look after my parents as they age and to continue to spend time with them after I get married. I've no statistics to prove my point but I would think that for the same reason I've stated, a fair number of young Singaporeans prefer to continue living with their parents.

Ah yes, I also hear the cynics out there pointing out the economics and conveniences of living with your parents. Honestly, that's not among my main considerations but it's definitely a pull factor.

Moving On

Accenture Paper - "Infrastructure: Consolidate, Standardize, Streamline"

You know you're definitely moving on when you're searching NLB's catalogue for books on IT infrastructure, IT service delivery and IT management.

Wanna Be

I recently decided to take up the guitar.

So it's me, guitar and a LIY book.

Actually I did take up the guitar before.

That was in sec 1 under Edward Choo the facially-inexpressive art teacher till he cracked the joke about the G string.

Ha ha.

Ok, I crack that joke too.

Inspired by my fave singers, esp. the folk ones.

Let's see, Natalie Merchant, Damien Rice, Jason Mraz, Joni Mitchell...

Once I was at Somerset's Jazz Bar @ Raffles City and a bluesey band was playing. It was a quiet weekday night so he decided to play on the acoustic guitar.

I was mesmerized.

So there.

Besides, the guitar is way quieter than the horn so I shouldn't suffer much persecution at home.

Damien Rice, Irish Songwriter

Doesn't reflect my state of mind, just think it's a haunting song.

the blower's daughter

and so it is
just like you said it would be
life goes easy on me
most of the time
and so it is
the shorter story
no love no glory
no hero in her skies
i can't take my eyes off of you
and so it is
just like you said it should be
we'll both forget the breeze
most of the time
and so it is
the colder water
the blower's daughter
the pupil in denial
i can't take my eyes off of you
did I say that I loathe you?
did I say that I want to
leave it all behind?
i can't take my mind off of you
my mind
'til I find somebody new

Reunion Blues?! No Way!!

As per Chinese tradition on CNY eve, my extended family of 3 generations on my paternal side gathers at my grandparents for our reunion lunch. We also take the occasion to celebrate my grandmother's birthday - this year she's 78 and I thank God for her good health! :)

Interestingly, I'd just found out from my mom that back then most people lacked calendars so they didn't know their exact birthdays except for the year that they were born in, unless their birthdays coincided with landmark occasions like my grandmother's with CNY eve.

This year's attendance was 14 adults and 9 children (thankfully grown up beyond the ultra noisy phase of endless screaming and running into walls).

And so, without fail, annually we tuck into regular steamboat fare and, recently added to the menu, red wine which also brought much red-faced mirth and mutual teasing about drinking limits.

I used to be awfully quiet at such gatherings because everyone's speaking in Teochew. At least this year I had a 5min conversation with my grandma - in Teochew!

And I found out that her sewing machine that I used to imagine was my war-torn battle fort for my Transfomers toys is actually 22 years older than I am. My grandparents had bought it for $264 in the 1950's and it became a source of income by making school uniforms.

Without fail, we also bring out the birthday cake and take an extended family photo when the same uncle has to set the camera on auto and to the children's excitement and glee, scramble back into the picture. Before the kids grew up, someone had to attract the infants' attention and hopefully solicit a cheerful smile.

After the mass photo, each family then take turns for a Kodak moment with my grandparents. Watching my uncles and aunts organize varying configurations and shouting for the missing members to quickly take up positions amused me to no end. More than that, I'm so glad to be a part of this big fat happy family.

There was the usual bantering, updating each other on the past year's activities (boasting for some), comparing children's growth spurts or performance in school, reminiscing old times etc. The living room was kept abuzz with chatter and the frequent piercing of children's laughter for the entire afternoon.

And then I remember PM Lee stressing family ties. Simply because these are ties that bind and they cannot be broken. These ties are ultimately what's important in life.

Happy reunion.

Know Thy Backyard

 

Against all rational thought and shedding all semblance of sanity, I visited Chinatown last night and spent the evening rubbing shoulders with fellow Singaporeans, buzzing in anticipation of Chinese New Year which is due in 3 days.

Actually the real reason was that I thought I would play the kind tour guide to a Canadian friend. Unfortunately the phrase "I'm ashamed to call myself Singaporean" was uttered or at least flashed in my mind more than once.



So there we were, 1 Canadian and 4 Singaporeans, one of whom hasn't been to Chinatown in 6 years and hasn't even been on the NEL. Granted he did spend 4 years studying in the UK but I didn't even know the street names (directing people on the phone turned out to be quite futile).

Thankfully I was able to educate with what little knowledge of Chinese customs I did have, such as the significance behind the colour red, pineapples and spirally bamboo sticks.

At times the crowd was so thick, we found ourselves stagnating in a pool of thick air and sweaty bodies, but I genuinely enjoyed the evening of endless sights, smells and sounds - all familiar and homely though I couldn't make sense of some.



After milling down two streets, I plainly declared that we had seen pretty much everything there is to see. But today's Sunday Times ran an article with the tagline "Think you've seen it all in Chinatown? Think again. Some sights will surprise you." Yes, there really are a few sights which we'd missed.

I've realized that I and many others are quick to dismiss our traditions and customs, without even trying to appreciate them first - ironically some even lament our brief history.

On a separate matter, my dear mother has taken it upon herself to make pineapple tarts. As proud as I am of her culinary escapades, I'm quite amused to report that batch #1 have turned out as pineapple cookies rather than tarts. Go figure.

Gong xi fa cai.

Of Flies & Bees

Everyday is a day of learning.

A curious phrase appeared in a document being discussed: luring flies with honey.

"Shouldn't it be luring bees?" I objected.

My manager offered, "you can do the same with shit, you know?"

The ensuing guffawing nearly had us tearing.

Over lunch, my colleagues voiced their common gripes about a particular government agency.

Gahmen bashing, I term it, and it seems quite fashionable.

Anecdotes and complaints offered lots of insights...

Eh, into what? I still gotta figure all these out.

Babes on Ice

Went Ice-Skating at Jurong East yesterday. 2nd time I'm there in my lifetime.

Wasn't as crowded as I thought it would be and somehow the rink felt much bigger than I'd remembered it.

Loved it. The lack of friction makes for such easy movements - with a shift of my body weight, I can do spins and twirls and cart-wheels.

Yeah right.

Saw some young girls practising their figure skating moves. Was absolutely amazing, the graceful movements and more so, their persistence in refining each move.

So why Babes on Ice? Because I was there with 3 other gals :)

Another Hot & Sweaty Day In Singapura

Nobody Knows (2005) by Hirokazu

Childhood is such a lovely, carefree time of utter innocence. A period of marvelling at everything around.

One thing that struck me was that none of the children shed any tears. They don't cry over themselves so don't cry for them either.

Another thing that struck me, all children have dreams and desires. The blessed ones get to pursue and fulfill them. What's your dream today?

With New Breath

When you realize how fleeting life is, you sit up and remember the important things.

Often I thank God for waking up each morning with new breath. But of late, I question what I do with this lease of life.

Yes, that's what it is - a lease.

The Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25) tells us "use it or lose it".

Use your daily new breath wisely.

Coffee & Scrambled Eggs & More...

And that's breakfast.

Definitely a Chef Wannabe.

Domestic Wilderness

A few days ago, my mom expressed her craving for mushroom soup. Of course, she only did so indirectly by asking me about the ingredients that went into it.

So Ed the filial son cum house-husband-to-be took it upon himself to prepare a sumptuous dinner of Western food for his beloved mother.

The day began with a vague vision of Western food.

Nothing too fancy, I thought to myself, yet a dinner that will certainly satisfy my family.



Menu

1. Creamy Mushroom Soup
   Using with fresh white button mushrooms and pure cream


2. Panfried Herb Chicken
   With creamy mushroom sauce made with brown button mushrooms, lightly boiled carrot sticks, steamed broccoli with garlic and olive oil dressing and juicy ripe tomatoes

Grocery shopping was enjoyable (somebody say SNAG). But upon discovering the dearth of fresh button mushrooms was NTUC, my emotional rollercoaster went the gamut from disappointment to shame to rage to single-minded determination that drove me onto a mushroom hunt.



'nough said.

Life and Living

I caught the Spanish film, Mar Adentro (2004), translated as, The Sea Inside.

It's a true story about Ramon Sampedro, a quadriplegic who, after 20 odd years, now wishes to die. Though the topic of euthanasia and its ongoing debates is not new, the award-winning film is certainly thought-provoking in how it questions both the meaning of life and the meaning of living.

It also reminds us how people are quick to judge others, based only on what they do see and presume. When other characters voice out their concern and attempt to change his mind, Ramon is quick to point out that they are judging him and his decision to quit life.

What is sobering is that Ramon is not depressed and irrational, instead he comes across as intelligent, witty and seemingly positive. In the 2 decades of his paralysis, he's learnt to deal with it both physically through various contraptions and comforts that makes life possible for him albeit confined to a bed and also emotionally in how he receives and acknowledges the love and kindness of his family members.

Yet he feels no dignity in being alive and is thus determined to die. Ironically a woman who meets Ramon, does learn to treasure her life and even falls in love with him. But her story is only one in the kaleidoscope of human lives reflected in the film.

There is Julia, Ramon's lawyer, who is stricken with a degenerative disease. At first, sustained by hope and determination, she tries to cope with her condition but later Julia decides that she wants to die too and conceives a plan to help Ramon and herself reach this goal. When the day comes, she backs out and never sees Ramon again, abandoning Ramon to despair.

There is Jose, Ramon's brother, who is angry at Ramon's decision to die. We later realize that actually he is inwardly bitter that he had to leave his seafaring life to become a farmer so that he can take care of Ramon.

For me, the most breath-taking scene was when the protagonist fantasizes about leaping out the window to soar across the sprawling hills and valleys towards the sea that he loves, and then to land and kiss Julia, the woman that he falls in love with.

Ramon succeeds in dying but as G pointed out, it's not a sad ending and in fact, it's a happy one. Happy ending or not, I'm again reminded of how life can lose its meaning and we eventually become unhappy and unfulfilled.

Review by Roger Ebert, well-known film critic.

Waltz

At half past 6 in the eve, I was on a bus.

Along Tiong Bahru road, I spied an old man on the road.

Steadily he pedalled his trusty bicycle along the bus bay, one exposed knee following the other.

A load of cardboard trailed behind him, occasionally wavering like a koi's tail.

I gazed at him from the cool of the bus and wondered about this man.

Was his life difficult?

Is he unhappy?

At 10 past 10, I was on an escalator.

Along the sheltered walkway outside AMK MRT, I spied a basker.

It seems that every night without fail, he sings here with his trusty electric guitar.

Tonight, it was a country waltz.

In my mind, I imagined the old man on his bicycle and all these words would be the lyrics to the waltz.

Clothes Maketh A Man?

Think most of us could do with a session on personal fashion sense, grooming & deportment any time. Attended 1 today and was most entertained and learned a lot too. You know, how to dress appropriately, how to match colours and clothing items, how to sit, how to tie your hair (for the ladies), how to greet people etc.

As sartorially and socially savvy as we'd all like to think ourselves to be, most of us are sometimes uninformed or even completely misguided! But I'm not going to ramble about about how I've discovered how to project a confident self-image.

Last friday, I went through a day of team-building and I've come to realize that some people, not only trainers, have a knack for sizing people up quickly. And this is mostly through observations of one's behaviour, including what they say and how they say it.

Initially I was surprised when the trainer commented about my personality - that I'm a diplomatic person - without having interacted with me directly. And quite rightly so, as you may gather from the lack of highly personal entries that really reveal my real inner feelings or offensive entries that are politically incorrect on this blog.

But, as accurate as these astuteness-gifted people may be, I believe they view individuals through readily imposing a set of profiles and grouped characteristics after making observations. And this is what enables them to size up people quickly and usually quite accurately. Just look at the various personality tests that categorize people using unique labels. It's just a little unnerving knowing that some can see right to your inner most being.

One interesting topic the image consultant did touch on today was about how compliments build up self-esteem and yet dishing out compliments is incongruous with Singaporean culture. Interestingly, this trainer didn't equate self-esteem to confidence - actually self-esteem is a deep-rooted sense of self and identity that forms a core pillar in a person's personality. And this goes beyond the clothes that one wears or the possessions that one acquires.

Yes, clothes maketh a man, but self-esteem maketh a character.

Monologue

Every week I click around on my friends' blogs and the blogs of their friends too. And I've come to realize one thing about my blog, I hardly get any comments.

Guess that's what I'm missing from the blogosphere huh?

And this brings me to my next question: Is my blog boring?

Don't answer.

But like any other blog, mine is definitely self-indulgent.

I say what I want, put up pictures that I like, feel little bubbles of glee when people actually comment (sad huh?).

Fine, you want a report of today's mundane activities?

I went to work today. Unexciting.

Went to Orchard library. Magazines I want have been taken. There was a talk about maintaining relationships - incidentally there was this attractive girl sitting at one corner. Why on earth is she there, I wonder? I pretend to read recommended books on display but listening to what was being said (sad huh?).

Got bored. Went to Taka food court for dinner with imaginary friend.

Half-heartedly browsed through shop selling streetwear and remembered what friend said about dilemma in deciding to buy work clothes or casual stuff.

Sauntered home... Ah, the life of a single 25yo S'porean male.

Motorcycle Diaries

for G: poignant music from the film

Man Stand With Mouth Open

Why do you speak? Do you have a point to make?

No really, do you have a point to make?

When we speak, are we simply trying to make our presence felt? Why are some oblivious to the subtle show of discomfort by others when these unpopulars open their mouths to speak?

Why do some persist in making their opinions heard? Why are some the first few to open their mouths in a group discussion?

Why do others keep quiet? If I keep quiet, will others begin to ignore me?

Remembering

As part of a Mindef orientation programme, I visited the Changi Chapel and Museum today.

The sobering visit certainly met its purpose of reminding me about the Japanese occupation of Singapore during World War II.

After all, when confronted with faded images of skinny POW's, you cannot help but realize how close to home the horrifying realities of war.

TGIF Once Again...

Attended a Mindef orientation course today. Activities were fun thought inane but was interesting meeting new people.

Was feeling spent after leaving office so I wandered into Borders.

Met friend for dinner.

Friend brought me to salsa session. Funny seeing his hips getting all jiggy - such a grown-up thing *teehee*

Blogs That Never Came

Every once in a while I get struck by ideas for most wonderful & excellent blog posts, usually through some kind of experiential stimulation.

Here's a list of blog ideas:

• All by Myself - Playing the Horn:
  After attending a series of recitals by the YST Conservatory of Music, I'd so much to say abt my emotions and experiences in making music as a professional amateur (go figure). Particularly, how I veered off the band path and ventured into orchestrael/chamber music. During one recital, an acquaintance played a horn solo with piano. Technically he was definitely there, but his performance lacked soul - guess he was nervous (I've been there). Another time, this Chinese (prodigy?) violinist played a super fast piece - impressive but forgettable. My main point was that playing an instrument solitarily can be a very enjoyable monologue - one of my favourite music is Bach's Cello Suites played by Yoyoma...


• The Art of French Horn Playing:
  I used to practise so hard during my ACS(I) & ACJC days (to the frequent annoyance of teachers in nearby classrooms/staff offices, once I was politely told off by Prof. Lawrence Chia aka Man of Long Speeches). I was also frequently struck with swollen tonsils. And my desire to play the horn started in primary school with a spark of envy when my best friend switched from the cornet to the quirky yet cool-looking mellophone :)


• The Great Singapore Commute:
  Every morning I simmering in my quiet anger at: one, the rushing, unseeing, crowd of office-drones that I'm a part of, and the other, at poor urban planning, evident in the bare patch of land where the AMK bus interchange used to be, which will remain bare for quite a few years to come. But once at clementi MRT, as I trudged along with the crowd down the stairs, I suddenly realized the crowd was being waylaid behind a troop of grandmas plodding down the stairs achey-step-by-achey-step in their walking sticks while bemoaning something in cantonese. Instead of getting mad, I was actually quite amused and couldn't help by smile at the thought of being stuck in a Mr. Bean situation (one of the episodes lah).


• SG Idol Fever:
  Had something clever to say abt William Hung, the anti-idol. And also about why the Idol phenomenon was so interesting: because of how everyone reacts to it, me included.


• The Me Generation
  Read a seminal yet quite irrevent essay by Tom Wolfe where the term "Me Generation" was born. Even did research abt social trends in collective thought.

There's more but that's it for now, because my bro needs the comp...

Pool Anyone?

It's official, I suck at pool.

And it's ironic that I hanker after a pool-cum-dining-table in spite of my inability to control where my balls go.

Happy New Year?

So how did you usher in the New Year?

I was at a party with long time friends, but it wasn't the drunken revelry I used to have just a few years ago.

Because I'd promised myself never to get so drunk that self-control fled out the window and my consciousness took a backseat a la Being John Malkovich. Eh, especially when your gf hears things she's not meant to.

Of course at this party, there was alcohol to loosen tongues and boogey and there was music to groove to and hence there was dancing... at least people attempted to.

But this year's party was unexciting and seem more like an adherence to the tradition of partying together with friends. Guess I ain't 18 no more - in fact, I'm 26 this year.

Why do we NEED to USHER in the new year anyway? Why do we need wild celebrations and mass countdowns that culminates in 5 minutes of enthusiastically hugging and kissing everyone around, total strangers included??

Of course, there are those who just wanna have fun, like a part of me.

Does the human psyche really need to think in terms of years and invariably starting each year on a fresh slate?

Admittedly man is a creature of habit. No wonder resolutions get made and abandoned just a few weeks in.

The best way to live life is to periodically reflect upon your deepest and most worthy desires and to work towards achieving these goals.

Until we give in to the inner sluggard who's always beckoning to stop to smell the roses or to take a leak.

But as I've been telling G this simple fact of life: if you really want to, you will.

If you really want to be a millionaire, you'll scrimp and save.

If you really want to lose weight, you will.

Don't bother protesting, just ask yourself deep down within, do you really want it bad enough?



As has been repeated many times in the past few days, this year's NYE celebration is understandably muted and somber in remembrance of more than 150,000 souls who perished.

Quite expectedly, Straits Times columnists like Sumiko Tan remind us not to take life for granted and even lament how in a matter of weeks, people will simply forget about this entire disaster and the massive loss of lives.

At east coast today, I stopped to watch waves lapping the shore. Instead of the usual refreshing feeling of relaxation, the sight of surfs and swashes, even at such a small scale, brought dread.

Perhaps I've read many news articles and seen too many pictures of bloated bodies and utterly decimated villages and locations. Pictures of people fleeing particularly fill me with a blended feeling of panic, sheer helplessness and a sickening expectance of certain death.



I read this recently: the loss of an individual life makes you sit up and notice whereas 150,000 is simply a statistic. Tell this to the teams bringing international aid to death-saturated Banda Aceh.

But we can't carry on with our lives burdened with sadness and guilt. Life must go on and as cliche as this sounds, hope and dreams displace these heavy feelings and are what keep us going.

My brother asked me why did God allow this to happen? I can only offer that His ways are higher than our ways and His thoughts are higher than our thoughts.

Therefore live everyday like it's your last. Don't regret it in your afterlife.

For all my attempts at guilt and sympathy, I know that I would decline any invitations to fly to the disaster-stricken areas to provide aid. Lacking of medical training and crisis management skills would be my main excuse but more than that, when faced with countless, nameless, bloated bodies, freaking out would be my instinctive response.