daronloo

I've played the piano for many weddings.  I play for at least one wedding a year.  This year, I was scheduled to play for two weddings. Last Sunday's wedding was the second wedding for the year.  I was flanked by two violinists, and we made fabulous wedding accompaniment for the now, husband and wife. Weddings are never perfect, at rehearsals and at the actual event.  There are always glitches, or last minute changes.  There are always people who come late.  Sometimes something explodes and catches fire (seriously this happened once). But I will not talk about non-music related incidents.  Since I think I'm a resident pianist, I will share interesting innuendos about wedding music. #1 - It's always the pianist's fault This happened at one of the weddings I played for in my earlier years in Thailand.  There was this lady, a fellow Sabahan, or Sabahanian, whatever you like to call us, who was assigned to sing a special number for the recept...

I've had some pretty intense situations happen to be repeatedly, like 'falling' at different occasions . Since those falls, I have been quite careful with how I walk, and, I am proud to say that to date, I haven't had any embarrassing falls.  Instead, I have been privileged with other types 'intense situations' - malfunctioning zippers. Zipper Malfunction #1 I was returning to Thailand after visiting my brother in California back in 2010.  On the flight back to Bangkok, from Taipei, my zipper literally popped.  I was wearing short shorts, a grey shirt, a cardigan, and boat shoes.  I was going for the chillaxed, I-travel-a-lot kinda look.  The flight was uneventful, until I tugged on my zipper to check if my fly was secured.  You know how sometimes the tape (the two parts that become connected when the zipper is pulled up) remains connected, even after the zipper is pulled off (maybe because it broke or maybe because there are no top stops) - well t...

Here are some cool/stupid/funny t-shirts you can find in Bangkok.  These photos were taken at Terminal 21, Asoke.

Last Friday I paid a visit to the Malaysian and Australian Embassies in Bangkok.  Getting there from the Lumphini MRT was quite a walk, but thankfully both of them were right next to each other. Australian Embassy People were attended to in an orderly fashion: we had to get queue numbers.  Once at the counter, the officer was very accommodating, but curt.  They certified my Australian documentation in less than 10 minutes.  There is not much I can say about the embassy because the service was so efficient, and fast. Malaysian Embassy I got there quarter to two, and they were still having lunch.  Apparently lunch breaks at the Malaysian embassy in Bangkok are two hours long.  I met the liaison officer at one of the schools where I work part-time.  She has been waiting since noon.  When the doors finally opened, there were no security checks, everyone wandered in and formed a line, with the first person being separated by the rest by a red-lin...

I thought this was pretty provoking.  It was strategically placed right at the beginning of the introductory chapter of Culture, Curriculum, and Identity in Education (Milner, 2010, p. 1). White teachers sometimes do not believe and fully understand that they have a culture [...] or that their worldview and practices are culturally grounded, guided, and facilitated. They struggle to understand that they, like people of color, too are cultural beings and that their conceptions, decisions, and actions are culturally shaped and mediated. They sometimes classify others as “cultural beings” or “diverse” and sometimes do not recognize the salience and centrality of their own culture, and how it is woven through their work as teachers. Culture is steeply embedded within and around each of us, is in and among all groups of people, and is especially shaped by the social context of education.  What do you think? I wish I knew more white teachers whom I can discuss this. In the...

I'm walking down the street, daydreaming.  I think of being next to a gentle stream, where the water takes its time enveloping each rock with a hug.  I walk further down/upstream and the sound of gushing water crescendos.  Wait, I'm not daydreaming anymore.  I smell rain.  I start running, and the rain chases after me.  It overtakes me and I run into a few droplets of rain. I manage to run into the administration building before all (wet) hell breaks loose.  Torrential rain is dumped from heaven.  It's like, here's all the rainwater you need to fill up your drying ponds. That was this evening. This morning was a whole different story.  It was less dramatic.  Well, it did start off dramatically.  I got a little bummed on my way to work because I realized that I had spilled my protein shake all over my shirt.  I was feeling my abs when I discovered that my shirt was sticking to my torso.  I looked down to my fingers, a...

I didn't run after the two #75 buses (airconditioned) that drove by the bus-stop without stopping.  Perhaps my graceful waving needs to be refined.  The third #75 bus did stop, it wasn't airconditioned, but it was the Free Red Bus.  I'm Chinese so anything free sounds good for me. I hopped on the bus and noticed that I, along with another youngish boy, were the only youths on board.  Everyone else was aged.  I initially had a seat to myself, but, being the good boy that I am, I offered my seat to an old lady (and in the process of offering, I stepped on an old man's foot).  I scanned around the bus for empty seats and found none.  There were four other old people standing up as the bus raced through Suksawad road.  The other young boy though, was still seated with an old man standing precariously next to him.  Perhaps the old man was hinting that the boy needs to give up his seat?  I don't know.  Here is a picture of his back. ...