Sometimes I think about things for hours on end, not knowing quite how to express it myself, and all of a sudden, it comes to me. So here it is, something that's been washing round my mind (what's left of it anyways) the past week in ETI.
I believe everyone has an inbuilt barometer, one that tells them when something is "screwed-up" and when it is not. Everyone knows it, and nobody wants to go through life doing things which they themselves perceive as screwed-up. And yet, evidently so many people do. Why? It's when external factors are introduced, things that cloud their judgement, over-ride the innate desire to do good. It's the mindset "everyone does it, so if I don't I'll lose out". It's because when the window is already cracked, when imperfections and flaws are present, that they decide, and rationalize, and decide that there's no point preserving something already messed up, so they might as well mess it up more for their own convenience. And I care. I think it's debasing, when we live our lives this way, when we could be and are so much more. And so, despite being the procrastinator that I am, I want to be the one who mends the window, and removes the obstacles preventing us from exercising our better judgement, providing something around which things can crystallize and begin to grow.
A little over-ambitious perhaps? And a short call earlier just illuminated me as to how myopic I can be, to miss out the cracks growing right under my nose. I still have to try, nonetheless.
A question, though: If people really do want to do good, will anything be able to prevent them from doing so? Is aiming to make it less tough for others to make a "right" decision really the right way to go about things?
To the former, I'd really rather not say. As to the latter, I believe that these types of things need to grow and develop incrementally. The first time is tough, the second time isn't easier, nor are the subsequent times, yet as you go along, a habit is developed, and soon it'll become second nature.
People can be influence by the most inconsequential of things. A teacher of mine (I don't even remember who anymore!) shared with a bunch of us about something he observed in some other country at a fast food outlet. Having consumed their meals, customers would neatly fold up their burger wrappers before clearing their trays at the bins. And ever since hearing that, that's exactly what I've been doing. Fold the wrapper into halves, quarters then eighths before clearing my tray; clearing up after myself. A small thing, true, but something that matters to me :)
Do I make sense? :P
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Things move, even if you don't touch them. While it's nice to believe in determination, that the actions one performs/commits/whatever determine one's destiny (for lack of a better word), it's always important to remember that we do not act in isolation. At the same time as we are acting to change our destiny's, others are acting to affect change to their destiny's. Paths converge, diverge, and we move on, not everyone get's their way, and sometimes it's better not to stop and pose the question: "what did I do wrong?" - which is so, so, so bloody tempting, as it encourages and fosters the belief that things are within control - but rather to accept it calmly, take it in stride and move on. Things can rarely be so simply dissected for examination, contributing factors laid bare to be seen, everything's entangled, in a mess;
even if you don't move, a million other things do, and inevitably tug on the strings entwined around you.
And now, to sleep. A new day when I awake (not technically speaking), the world deconstructed and reconstructed once more, a whole new world, machinery churning in the background as I rest, and we shall see.
even if you don't move, a million other things do, and inevitably tug on the strings entwined around you.
And now, to sleep. A new day when I awake (not technically speaking), the world deconstructed and reconstructed once more, a whole new world, machinery churning in the background as I rest, and we shall see.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Holding Together
The sweet taste of freedom is something I managed to savor deeply this weekend. I miss the days when I had the time to stand around with friends, not quite sure what to do, standing in the middle of the pathway, standing in the rain, under the shelter of a tree, as we tried to hash out a course of action, inevitably going off-topic before once again meandering our way back on course. The time to take the long route, a stroll through the heart of the city, chatting, whining and in essence being completely random. The time to sit and watch a couple of "performers" in the spotlight at the Gardens, waiting for them to do something, which they never did. The freedom to not have a plan, activities slotted neatly back-to-back, and an unrelenting encik/PS/CSM breathing down our necks to enforce timings and ever ready to knock us down for being too sloppy. The freedom, in fact, to see adveture in the most miniscule yet crazy little things; clambering onto and bypassing a corrugated metal sheet blocking my path and climbing over the low fence at the longkang, creeping across the ledge to bypass yet another sheet; all in order to leave my estate to get to the basketball court across the road with my cousins, and later, moving to look for another court (that one was already occupied) only to discover that the hoops had broken off, and then playing 2 v 2 ultimate frisbee instead. A sweet nectar that I plan to enjoy fully once I ORD.
Staring at the city lights, at people going about the hustle and bustle of everyday life, it struck me how removed from it all we NSmen are. Once we set foot in camp, we assume our second identities, ones which we've conditioned to willingly accept the rigors, regimentation et al of in camp training, and as we go through the week, one event follows another, in rapid succession, no time to think about other things; best not to think about other things. It's scary how easy it is to lose sight of yourself; who you are, what you're doing, the things you stand for; what you're aiming for in life. It's as if we're safely ensconced in a bubble, removed from the flow of everyday life; and I'd hate to think what kind of lost soul would be released when the bubble pops 17 months down the road. I'd cry out for someone to save me, but really, who's up to the task?
Self-help then, is the way to go, and I hope my endeavor to earn a shiny pointy piece of metal serves to focus myself as well.
Staring at the city lights, at people going about the hustle and bustle of everyday life, it struck me how removed from it all we NSmen are. Once we set foot in camp, we assume our second identities, ones which we've conditioned to willingly accept the rigors, regimentation et al of in camp training, and as we go through the week, one event follows another, in rapid succession, no time to think about other things; best not to think about other things. It's scary how easy it is to lose sight of yourself; who you are, what you're doing, the things you stand for; what you're aiming for in life. It's as if we're safely ensconced in a bubble, removed from the flow of everyday life; and I'd hate to think what kind of lost soul would be released when the bubble pops 17 months down the road. I'd cry out for someone to save me, but really, who's up to the task?
Self-help then, is the way to go, and I hope my endeavor to earn a shiny pointy piece of metal serves to focus myself as well.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
A single day, my weekend cleaved in half by 1x Weekend guard duty, but a day pretty fruitfully spent methinks. I managed to catchup with an old friend (and catch The Amazing Spiderman as well) morning to mid-afternoon, give my boots a pretty decent shine for Monday's parade and dump more than enough books into my new Kindle Touch to last me through the week.
I've probably got alot to think about, what with things developing as fast as they are, but perhaps the best thing now is to simply keep my head down and focus on one thing at a time, to take them as they come and finish them off with aplomb.
That's all I have time for, unfortunately, so till next week~
I've probably got alot to think about, what with things developing as fast as they are, but perhaps the best thing now is to simply keep my head down and focus on one thing at a time, to take them as they come and finish them off with aplomb.
That's all I have time for, unfortunately, so till next week~
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Each day it seems like I lose a little bit of myself, and gain something different in return. A multitude of changes, stacking up imperceptibly, but definitively. Am I who I was a week ago? A month ago? And is that for better or for worse? I'll never know.
"You'll never know" - hauntingly memorable last words.
The past week passed in deep slumber for me, nothing quite registering, events skipping across the waters of my consciousness. It's not that I distanced myself from them, or wasn't involved, or that I found them boring, but that I simply found myself strangely out of it, a little bereft of the motivation and "on-ness" I'd tapped on in SCS. I think I'm still in the process of adjusting; I don't hate ETI, but really miss the bunk environment I enjoyed with the guys in Bravo.
Amidst all this I count my blessings; that I've got the guys who came over with me, and who unquestioningly and unhesitatingly offer me their assistance and support, especially since I'm the store IC for my platoon (stores are the bread and butter of engineers, in case you were wondering) and still not-100%-clear as to which stores go where. Managing a whole platoon of guys who are somewhat reluctant to burn their admin time to do stores can be intimidating, and I could sense them getting quite impatient while I needed to clarify some things with the sergeants. The reassurance that I could count on them no matter what (of course without taking advantage of them) was a much appreciated source of strength for me, and allowed me to be strong myself, despite constantly being the last man up at the end of each session, having to account for everything, tying up the various loose ends and returning the store keys. And sometimes it simply feels good to sit down for meals with the same few familiar faces, be it engaging in the same old banter and mutual whining or consuming our food in silence. Old company enjoyed in a new one.
I think it's good to have friends who both need you and whom you need. Perhaps not the most eloquent way to phrase it, but what the heck. They give you strength with their presence and simultaneously you become strong to give them strength as well.
In a week thoroughly drowned, dampened, battered under, murdered and quenched by a couple of tests and a series of horribly dry and dreary lectures, the demolition live firing was certainly a high point. We'd had to prepare the stores the night before, and reveille at 3.30 to set off as my detail was the ammo party and had to load up to the ammo tonner to collect the demolitions materials from the ammo dump. Groggy were we, dozing off at practically every opportunity, heads lolling around, exaggerated by the weight of our helmets, till it was time to perform our duties. Well let's skip straight to the live-firing, shall we? I'd initially been pretty tense about having to handle the explosives, especially after learning about their destructive power; and having thoroughly mugged the various safety radii and other specs, but it turned out to be nothing much after all. A block 3 charge is just this light brown plastic block, just 0.5kg, which looks pretty nondescript. We just stuck in the det cord and that was it. The rod of PE was even funnier; softer than playdough, and pretty fun to mould and "play" around with, save being able to feel the crystals of explosive in its texture. Wrap it around the det cord and we were done. I was lucky enough to be the firer, so I got to prepare the I-chain, prime the charge, and set off the ignitor on command, shouting "IGNITED" and counting off while running for my life, pushed along by Staff Alfred as we ran uphill to the coverpoint. And I continued counting..and counting...and counting...fifty thousand...sixty thousand...seventy thousand...upon which the charges detonated, one bay after the other. I thought the matador was a big deal, that the M203 was pretty cool, but they're nothing compared to the blast effect of actual explosives lol. Even under cover, the blast effect can be felt rippling through the air, and it actually felt more intense back at the training shed, further from the firing point; shaking the whiteboard there. It's verrrryy shiok.
Well, I think there should be a meaningful conclusion to this post but nothing really comes to mind, so I'll just leave it as such. Awesome Germany vs Greece match I caught awhile ago, albeit wholly one-sided.
"You'll never know" - hauntingly memorable last words.
The past week passed in deep slumber for me, nothing quite registering, events skipping across the waters of my consciousness. It's not that I distanced myself from them, or wasn't involved, or that I found them boring, but that I simply found myself strangely out of it, a little bereft of the motivation and "on-ness" I'd tapped on in SCS. I think I'm still in the process of adjusting; I don't hate ETI, but really miss the bunk environment I enjoyed with the guys in Bravo.
Amidst all this I count my blessings; that I've got the guys who came over with me, and who unquestioningly and unhesitatingly offer me their assistance and support, especially since I'm the store IC for my platoon (stores are the bread and butter of engineers, in case you were wondering) and still not-100%-clear as to which stores go where. Managing a whole platoon of guys who are somewhat reluctant to burn their admin time to do stores can be intimidating, and I could sense them getting quite impatient while I needed to clarify some things with the sergeants. The reassurance that I could count on them no matter what (of course without taking advantage of them) was a much appreciated source of strength for me, and allowed me to be strong myself, despite constantly being the last man up at the end of each session, having to account for everything, tying up the various loose ends and returning the store keys. And sometimes it simply feels good to sit down for meals with the same few familiar faces, be it engaging in the same old banter and mutual whining or consuming our food in silence. Old company enjoyed in a new one.
I think it's good to have friends who both need you and whom you need. Perhaps not the most eloquent way to phrase it, but what the heck. They give you strength with their presence and simultaneously you become strong to give them strength as well.
In a week thoroughly drowned, dampened, battered under, murdered and quenched by a couple of tests and a series of horribly dry and dreary lectures, the demolition live firing was certainly a high point. We'd had to prepare the stores the night before, and reveille at 3.30 to set off as my detail was the ammo party and had to load up to the ammo tonner to collect the demolitions materials from the ammo dump. Groggy were we, dozing off at practically every opportunity, heads lolling around, exaggerated by the weight of our helmets, till it was time to perform our duties. Well let's skip straight to the live-firing, shall we? I'd initially been pretty tense about having to handle the explosives, especially after learning about their destructive power; and having thoroughly mugged the various safety radii and other specs, but it turned out to be nothing much after all. A block 3 charge is just this light brown plastic block, just 0.5kg, which looks pretty nondescript. We just stuck in the det cord and that was it. The rod of PE was even funnier; softer than playdough, and pretty fun to mould and "play" around with, save being able to feel the crystals of explosive in its texture. Wrap it around the det cord and we were done. I was lucky enough to be the firer, so I got to prepare the I-chain, prime the charge, and set off the ignitor on command, shouting "IGNITED" and counting off while running for my life, pushed along by Staff Alfred as we ran uphill to the coverpoint. And I continued counting..and counting...and counting...fifty thousand...sixty thousand...seventy thousand...upon which the charges detonated, one bay after the other. I thought the matador was a big deal, that the M203 was pretty cool, but they're nothing compared to the blast effect of actual explosives lol. Even under cover, the blast effect can be felt rippling through the air, and it actually felt more intense back at the training shed, further from the firing point; shaking the whiteboard there. It's verrrryy shiok.
Well, I think there should be a meaningful conclusion to this post but nothing really comes to mind, so I'll just leave it as such. Awesome Germany vs Greece match I caught awhile ago, albeit wholly one-sided.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Just kill me now.
Argh, a well-documented depression known as the "post SCS depression" has afflicted much of us engineer-commanders-to-be in the ETI. Regimentation on the level of BMT, while understandable on a logical level, will take some adjusting too, especially after being spoiled by the degree of freedom we'd been given during our foundation term. Activities were very packed, had ALOT to do over the first 3 days of the course, and we're still at week 0, 13 more weeks to go. I really don't know. Sometimes I feel things are very screwed up, want to scream out loud, and whine incessantly to someone, but I really can't allow myself to do so. I think some of the others are feeling it worse than me, and while we do find some solace in commiseration, there's kind of an obligation to put a positive spin on things, attempt to be optimistic, try to offer some support :S Can't really tell it to my family as well, don't want to make them worry when they have other more pressing concerns, and it's not a feeling that I can articulate well too; things haven't really been that bad, so I don't want to sound like a whiner haha.
The feeling was most acute late last night, as I sat in front of my laptop, tired, staring at the slides to be tested on, slides which they hadn't gone through, and were well..not that well done up to say the least, trying to absorb the list of facts being spammed, safety distances, etc that were plain memory work, and being unable to retain anything in my brain. Felt even worse than mugging for the As..at least then, things made sense.
Some positives though, but I shan't elaborate on them since I'm not done with my mugging yet. Cheerios.
Expect post frequency to decrease dramatically (but who reads this anyway, eh? :P) due to lack of time and energy, and also because we no longer have laptops/internet access in the awesome ETI, as LEARNet hasn't been rolled out to us yet, a little ironic how much the loss is felt, especially since so many of us were hammering LEARNet for it's uselessness in BMT and SCS. And besides, I think I've been drained of the ability to make semi-insightful posts, so it's no great loss there!
Argh, a well-documented depression known as the "post SCS depression" has afflicted much of us engineer-commanders-to-be in the ETI. Regimentation on the level of BMT, while understandable on a logical level, will take some adjusting too, especially after being spoiled by the degree of freedom we'd been given during our foundation term. Activities were very packed, had ALOT to do over the first 3 days of the course, and we're still at week 0, 13 more weeks to go. I really don't know. Sometimes I feel things are very screwed up, want to scream out loud, and whine incessantly to someone, but I really can't allow myself to do so. I think some of the others are feeling it worse than me, and while we do find some solace in commiseration, there's kind of an obligation to put a positive spin on things, attempt to be optimistic, try to offer some support :S Can't really tell it to my family as well, don't want to make them worry when they have other more pressing concerns, and it's not a feeling that I can articulate well too; things haven't really been that bad, so I don't want to sound like a whiner haha.
The feeling was most acute late last night, as I sat in front of my laptop, tired, staring at the slides to be tested on, slides which they hadn't gone through, and were well..not that well done up to say the least, trying to absorb the list of facts being spammed, safety distances, etc that were plain memory work, and being unable to retain anything in my brain. Felt even worse than mugging for the As..at least then, things made sense.
Some positives though, but I shan't elaborate on them since I'm not done with my mugging yet. Cheerios.
Expect post frequency to decrease dramatically (but who reads this anyway, eh? :P) due to lack of time and energy, and also because we no longer have laptops/internet access in the awesome ETI, as LEARNet hasn't been rolled out to us yet, a little ironic how much the loss is felt, especially since so many of us were hammering LEARNet for it's uselessness in BMT and SCS. And besides, I think I've been drained of the ability to make semi-insightful posts, so it's no great loss there!
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Things will never be the same
Didn't know that it would hit me so hard; a physical manifestation, a gnawing at my heart. Hugging the guys who'd gotten posted to infantry and when they had left, feeling the emptiness of the bunk, bedsheets, pillowcases, blankets removed, all personal artefacts packed up into hulking fieldpacks, ginormous duffels. An indescribable sense of loss. Strange how strong those ties built up over 8 weeks of near constant companionship had become, talking cock, singing song, sleeping, eating together, going outfield, doing pt and other random shit together, spending a whole lot more time with them than I have with my family. Or perhaps I'd come to identify too strongly with the feeling of being in a section, and gradually growing to identify myself as such, such that the breaking up of the section as we each received our own postings was immensely heartbreaking. I'll miss you guys, we spent 24 hours for at least 5 days a week together over the course of 8 weeks, almost a thousand in total, and they were pretty enjoyable ones at that, no matter how much we'd complain or comment about his behaviour or other stuff like that. I teared up, even needing Ying Hui to come over to comfort me :/
Well I'm over that, and alot of them are joining me over at the ETI, so things aren't too bad, and we've gotta move forwards, anyway, right? Just hope I don't end up on bomb disposal or CMRE haha
Well I'm over that, and alot of them are joining me over at the ETI, so things aren't too bad, and we've gotta move forwards, anyway, right? Just hope I don't end up on bomb disposal or CMRE haha
Friday, June 8, 2012
Farewell Bravo~
Last post from this particular laptop as a member of Bravo Coy. I'm nursing a particularly bad bout of running nose so I'll keep this short. The 8 weeks passed really fast, without much time to comprehend what has happened over this period of time. I've managed to do more than in Bronco I think, mostly over the last couple of weeks, where I've been the LSC and LPS. I've made more than a few new friends; possibly closer to them than my BMTC section, and we've had some pretty interesting experiences together. I've come to accept the more unsavory aspects of human nature, mostly selfishness and unwillingness to help out, and I've been guilty of that as well, though I do try to contribute, above and beyond my minimal obligations. I've also discovered the more unpleasant side of my personality; a tendency to get testy with my responses when caught in a bad moment; or at the limits of my tolerance. I've found that I can tahan alot of things though, and that is pretty encouraging. I've learned that the best way to lead and influence (for me at least) is by example, by leading the way, doing it myself first. Morale highground, you know ;) and yet I've also realized that one can't do everything alone, and if you persist in doing so, you only make yourself bitter, angry and frustrated. Best is to encourage and foster participation, while getting yourself involved as well; although coorperation may be grudgingly given, you still get things done, and build up some cohesiveness too. Respect other's opinions, for they may be correct, and you'll earn their respect for doing so as well.
In all, I guess I learnt that I'm not as utterly hopeless as I'd initially thought, yet it's something that I have to put alot more work into, to build up my confidence and awareness in so many ways, and I'm really quite fortunate that I have so many people around me that I can look to for both positive and negative examples hahaha.
Keeping my fingers crossed for a good posting!
-SCT CHRISTOPHER TEOW KANG JUN 2113 BRAVO COY
Bravo's been awesome, more than I could have possibly hoped for :)
In all, I guess I learnt that I'm not as utterly hopeless as I'd initially thought, yet it's something that I have to put alot more work into, to build up my confidence and awareness in so many ways, and I'm really quite fortunate that I have so many people around me that I can look to for both positive and negative examples hahaha.
Keeping my fingers crossed for a good posting!
-SCT CHRISTOPHER TEOW KANG JUN 2113 BRAVO COY
Bravo's been awesome, more than I could have possibly hoped for :)
Monday, June 4, 2012
Carpe Diem
For what does time slither by, so insidiously, to no avail? For whom does it do so?
The birth and death of the Sun means nothing, to those who look upon the world through deadfish eyes. Stagnant they are, to them, nothing moves, the seasons mere annoyances to contend with, calendars but desktop paperweights to chalk and murder the passage of time.
The rebirth of the sun, the rise of the full moon, is for those with wonder in their eyes and see opportunity in the turn of the day. They have a goal, and each day passes with bated breathe, controlled excitement; as the attainment of it draws closer.
This wasn't intended to be an optimistic post, though. Was merely reflecting on how things sometimes seem so meaningless, and wondering, how I could get myself out of this rut, to put some life into my eyes, passion into my step and imbue my actions with purpose and meaning. Sometimes I think we're too jaded; made to grow up too fast that all semblance of youthful vigour has been stripped away.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
It doesn't.
The birth and death of the Sun means nothing, to those who look upon the world through deadfish eyes. Stagnant they are, to them, nothing moves, the seasons mere annoyances to contend with, calendars but desktop paperweights to chalk and murder the passage of time.
The rebirth of the sun, the rise of the full moon, is for those with wonder in their eyes and see opportunity in the turn of the day. They have a goal, and each day passes with bated breathe, controlled excitement; as the attainment of it draws closer.
This wasn't intended to be an optimistic post, though. Was merely reflecting on how things sometimes seem so meaningless, and wondering, how I could get myself out of this rut, to put some life into my eyes, passion into my step and imbue my actions with purpose and meaning. Sometimes I think we're too jaded; made to grow up too fast that all semblance of youthful vigour has been stripped away.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
It doesn't.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Being serious about something. Perhaps being mature and serious about it means not doing it the way you would do it; or maybe not being so lax that you do it any which way, with the excuse that that's simply the way you are, and rather doing it in the way that will allow you to accomplish it successfully. It's very easy to go around condemning people for not being true to themselves, while perhaps they should be commended for wanting it so much, being so serious about it that they're willing to put that extra effort into being something that they're not, just so that they can get it. Eh?
Not quite my style, but perhaps I should steer away from my undeniably stupid policy of almost-full disclosure and try to incorporate just a little guile and finesse into my future endeavors. They don't want to see the mental conflict and anguish resolved over the course of one page of words, what they want to see is simply what is so appealing about you. KISS
Not quite my style, but perhaps I should steer away from my undeniably stupid policy of almost-full disclosure and try to incorporate just a little guile and finesse into my future endeavors. They don't want to see the mental conflict and anguish resolved over the course of one page of words, what they want to see is simply what is so appealing about you. KISS
We’re all seeking that special person who is right for us. But if you’ve been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there’s no right person, just different flavors of wrong. Why is this? Because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. But it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. And it isn’t until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems—the ones that make you truly who you are—that we’re ready to find a lifelong mate. Only then do you finally know what you’re looking for. You’re looking for the wrong person. But not just any wrong person: the right wrong person—someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, “This is the problem I want to have.”
I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.
Let our scars fall in love.
I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.
Let our scars fall in love.
-Galway Kinnell
Friday, June 1, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
I've lost myself somewhere along the way. It's not that I hadn't thought things through, but now with things the way they are, I'm being forced to reconsider, and oddly enough, I find it very disconcerting. Can't help my feel that I'm very half-assed in the things that I do; sorely lacking in passion and determination, and that possibly because I'm relatively open-minded about things, and have a pretty laid-back attitude towards the things I do, which I'm starting to find very detestable. It's not something anyone else can help with, no matter how much I want someone to confide in.
Friday, May 25, 2012
KYan: Guess what? I got 11th in my class!!
Me (a little asshole I guess): Out of?
KYan: 40! I got top for Chinese
Me (genuinely impressed): Congrats!
KYan: Guess my L1R5?
*random guesses, and she bobs her head ever upwards, till I guess 18*
KYan: You were looking at my head right! It's 11! (Troll much -.-) Guess my Poly L1R5?
*shows 3 fingers*
Me: 3?
KYan: 8 la
Me: Do you want to go poly?
KYan: Yeah
Me: Why?
KYan: Because if I fail JC I'll go poly anyway!
....
*takes the iPad from me and goes off*
Me (a little asshole I guess): Out of?
KYan: 40! I got top for Chinese
Me (genuinely impressed): Congrats!
KYan: Guess my L1R5?
*random guesses, and she bobs her head ever upwards, till I guess 18*
KYan: You were looking at my head right! It's 11! (Troll much -.-) Guess my Poly L1R5?
*shows 3 fingers*
Me: 3?
KYan: 8 la
Me: Do you want to go poly?
KYan: Yeah
Me: Why?
KYan: Because if I fail JC I'll go poly anyway!
....
*takes the iPad from me and goes off*
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Field Camp the II
Fieldcamp this week was rather more memorable than the one we had during BMT, which can probably be attributed to the 'favourable' climate this time round. I'll never forget the hours spent - on two consecutive nights, no less! - late in the night and in the wee hours of the morning, hours spent staring morosely into space as rivulets of water found their way through our seemingly non-existent groundsheet (the waterproof lining was compromised, you see) and soaked me to the core. The frantic scramble to set up shelter in the dark proved to be an exercise in futility. Merciless skies unleashed their fury on us throughout the night, and on the second night, sheet lightning flashed through the sky, followed shortly by resounding roars of thunder, from all around us. We were in the middle of the storm, and atop a hill, furthermore, and were seriously praying and fervently hoping that we wouldn't be the catalyst for yet another safety timeout, yet another condemnation to safety in the SAF.
-TBC First Parade beckons
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I realize what I want isn't for you to like me, or anything like that, but rather to hear from you, for all the good that'll do. Grevious foolishness on my part, that.
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Slipping, sliding, scrambling up the treacherous slopes, yet another downside to hilltop life; panting uncontrollably while making my way up with the fieldpack to setup camp; hoisting the MATADOR across my shoulders, and the occasional trip up after returning from the training shed below, heaving a jerry can - nearly 20kg - along for the journey. Even with rotation it was still freaking tiring. And of course the trips up and down made in the dark, simply hoping not to fall, or that if I fell, that I wouldn't land wrongly and OOC from it.
Hours spent sitting in the mud, trying to make myself comfortable, all kinds of positions; iLBV on, iLBV off, sitting on my rifle, leaning against my fieldpack, lying on my fieldpack, sitting crosslegged, rifle across my knees, so on and so forth, doing absolutely nothing, nothing and waiting, random musings passing through my head, the future, first and foremost, but that for later.
The second night, huddling together under the groundsheet, legs curled into fetal position, donning my Goretex, a source of much comfort, a ward against the shivering. Curled up alongside Yan Seng and Theodore, not saying a word to each other, commiserating in the shared situation.
Section Battle Course, much toned down than previous years, yet messed up nonetheless, conducting Fire Movement up the hill; literally 'chiong sua', hilarious when I was the IC yet unable to climb up as it was too muddy at my location and requiring Janus to clamber up first to offer me a hand, when I was taking too long and the rest were several bounds ahead already. I wasn't the only one who had that problem haha.
And of course the simple act of proning on alert, uncomfortable with the magazines pressing against my abdomen, aggravating already present abrasions. Yet you realize there's a certain trick to it; you fidget a little, try to find the most comfortable position, and simply do-not-move. Rest your helmet against the scope, or your chin against the cheek rest, or various other "styles", and settle in.
And of course, the heat rash, a still-present reminder of the days that passed, prickling me into immobility, forcing a slight tightening of the back, and testing my resolution to keep my hands at bay, to not descent into a fit of frenzied, uncontrollable scratching at an itch which simply refuses to leave me alone. Practically the whole company was afflicted..guess that's what happens when you can't bathe for a few days, and changing into fresh clothes is rendered ineffective due to the constant rain and ever-present moisture.
Abrupt end. Pizza in the bunk is simply heavenly.
-TBC First Parade beckons
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I realize what I want isn't for you to like me, or anything like that, but rather to hear from you, for all the good that'll do. Grevious foolishness on my part, that.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Slipping, sliding, scrambling up the treacherous slopes, yet another downside to hilltop life; panting uncontrollably while making my way up with the fieldpack to setup camp; hoisting the MATADOR across my shoulders, and the occasional trip up after returning from the training shed below, heaving a jerry can - nearly 20kg - along for the journey. Even with rotation it was still freaking tiring. And of course the trips up and down made in the dark, simply hoping not to fall, or that if I fell, that I wouldn't land wrongly and OOC from it.
Hours spent sitting in the mud, trying to make myself comfortable, all kinds of positions; iLBV on, iLBV off, sitting on my rifle, leaning against my fieldpack, lying on my fieldpack, sitting crosslegged, rifle across my knees, so on and so forth, doing absolutely nothing, nothing and waiting, random musings passing through my head, the future, first and foremost, but that for later.
The second night, huddling together under the groundsheet, legs curled into fetal position, donning my Goretex, a source of much comfort, a ward against the shivering. Curled up alongside Yan Seng and Theodore, not saying a word to each other, commiserating in the shared situation.
Section Battle Course, much toned down than previous years, yet messed up nonetheless, conducting Fire Movement up the hill; literally 'chiong sua', hilarious when I was the IC yet unable to climb up as it was too muddy at my location and requiring Janus to clamber up first to offer me a hand, when I was taking too long and the rest were several bounds ahead already. I wasn't the only one who had that problem haha.
And of course the simple act of proning on alert, uncomfortable with the magazines pressing against my abdomen, aggravating already present abrasions. Yet you realize there's a certain trick to it; you fidget a little, try to find the most comfortable position, and simply do-not-move. Rest your helmet against the scope, or your chin against the cheek rest, or various other "styles", and settle in.
And of course, the heat rash, a still-present reminder of the days that passed, prickling me into immobility, forcing a slight tightening of the back, and testing my resolution to keep my hands at bay, to not descent into a fit of frenzied, uncontrollable scratching at an itch which simply refuses to leave me alone. Practically the whole company was afflicted..guess that's what happens when you can't bathe for a few days, and changing into fresh clothes is rendered ineffective due to the constant rain and ever-present moisture.
Abrupt end. Pizza in the bunk is simply heavenly.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
NE more of this and I'm gonna explode
Is it ever acceptable to be a "Good Trier" without ever having the results to speak for your efforts? It's really a question of whether it's the process or the results that matter. Not too sure where I stand on that. Of course I'd like to be able to obtain both; impossibility of "obtaining" a process aside, and of course the process is important, but it sucks to not have an external validation of sorts.
And someone told me that he respected me today /excites hahaha how often does one hear that to the face XD
Well anyway, had a horrific 5-10 mins today, but other than that, I'll be fine. Managed to set a PB for the SOC today morning, and that despite having taken the IPPT the day before. Kinda makes me feel proud for not having taken the easy way out and excused myself (as the IPPT-takers were given the option to do) and instead making myself do it.
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Sometimes events that befall me are so ridiculous that I can't help laughing, despite suffering as a result of aforesaid events occurring. I feel like elaborating on the camera chase that played out over the past few days, so that's what I shall do:
I somehow found myself in charge of presenting a board game my platoon adapted (or rather ripped off) from an extant board game for an NE presentation. It's a really really really (I can't quite summon the relevant superlatives, so cut me some slack here) complex game which isn't quite suitable to be presented to large groups. So I found myself with a dilemma. Cause you see, encik had requested/demanded/ordered that we do up a game of some kind - influenced no doubt by the presentation of Charlie which had wrested the trophy from us the previous bactch - and to present it in a captivating manner, and moreover to complete it on a tight deadline. I realize I need to correct myself. I wasn't a dilemma I found myself with, but rather a steaming fresh pile of shit that had somehow landed itself squarely in my hands. Being who I am, I wasn't inclined to engage in shit-slinging and ended up trying to mold the shit into something comprehensible. This "plan" I had in mind involved taking pictures of various set-ups of cards and board for use in a mini-skit of sorts; not the most original of ideas, I'll readily admit.
Anyways, as I alluded to earlier, obtaining that camera was a bloody pain in the ass. (painful imagery, that) Seems like the whole of Bravo is armed with but a single camera, which happened to be drawn out by Platoon 3 just when I needed it. No problem, how long could they take, right?
Wrong. They held onto it for a day and a half before finally returning it to the company office. But. (There's always a but) But they removed the memory card; took it out of camp, in fact, to work upon their video during Wednesday's nights off. And that after repeated attempts to hurry them up. Bandied around the idea of passing the cards and boards to Ying Hui who was going home for him to take the required photographs but it was a no go, apparently cause my partners hadn't finished drawing some things. No matter, can always use the camera when I get back, right?
Wrong. Turns out the WO in charge of the camera took it with him/locked it up (I don't really know which) when he booked out at 5+, and they couldn't sign in the memory card without him being in camp, so on to Thursday, with the IC's promise that he'd return it ASAP. Okay, still one more day till Friday, a little squeezed for time, but still doable, right?
Wrong. They only managed to return the memory card after an arms drill which stretched till 10+, after which I went to the Coy office to look for the WO to borrow the camera. No such luck, he wasn't in. Went to check the store (he's in charge of it) and he wasn't there either. Spied a familiar form at the smoking corner so there I went, taking a deep breath before sallying forth. Mission accomplished (finally) right?
Wrong. Turns out I was one step too late; some of the commanders/higher-ups had taken the camera for a recce of our field camp site, they'd be back after lunch. So up to my bunk I went, fretting over the script which I wasn't sure how to resolve, not to mention the recruitment of my "actors". Down for lunch and back again, first thing I did was to go to the Coy office to borrow the camera. Asked 2IC; YES IT'S THERE, HALLELUJAH. Signed it out after the relevant paperwork and left after entrusting it to some of our OOC personnel to take the required pictures; we hadn't completed the day's activities, you see. Gao Ding! Right?
Wrong. The pictures weren't good enough, as I realized upon first glance, so I did it myself later on. FINALLY. But nope. SAF has a security policy, you see, we aren't allowed to insert/connect storage mediums to our SAF-issued laptops, so any data transfer from the camera to the computer had to be done using the 2ICs terminal. And yet by the time I realized that the pictures taken were inadequate and did the required retakes, 2IC had booked out for the day. Cursing the lack of initiative of the OOC personnel who'd spent practically the whole day in the Coy office with the 2IC, there was really nothing I could do Thursday night except fret endlessly over the whole episode, and ranting sporadically to the more sympathetic of my bunkmates, while sharing endless bouts of laughs at how bloody ridiculous the whole thing had become.
And by the time the photos were finally transferred over to the internal system, there was undoubtedly insufficient time to do up a passable presentation, as I had been planning to use the slides as a visual aid for the presentation. And thus, an onstage crucifixion (not spelt crucification, my bad).
On the whole, events weren't totally within my control (a gross understatement methinks) but I could probably have done alot more towards remedying the situation had I the foresight and been more assertive as a leader. Hope the negative ramifications aren't too much for me to handle.
And someone told me that he respected me today /excites hahaha how often does one hear that to the face XD
Well anyway, had a horrific 5-10 mins today, but other than that, I'll be fine. Managed to set a PB for the SOC today morning, and that despite having taken the IPPT the day before. Kinda makes me feel proud for not having taken the easy way out and excused myself (as the IPPT-takers were given the option to do) and instead making myself do it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes events that befall me are so ridiculous that I can't help laughing, despite suffering as a result of aforesaid events occurring. I feel like elaborating on the camera chase that played out over the past few days, so that's what I shall do:
I somehow found myself in charge of presenting a board game my platoon adapted (or rather ripped off) from an extant board game for an NE presentation. It's a really really really (I can't quite summon the relevant superlatives, so cut me some slack here) complex game which isn't quite suitable to be presented to large groups. So I found myself with a dilemma. Cause you see, encik had requested/demanded/ordered that we do up a game of some kind - influenced no doubt by the presentation of Charlie which had wrested the trophy from us the previous bactch - and to present it in a captivating manner, and moreover to complete it on a tight deadline. I realize I need to correct myself. I wasn't a dilemma I found myself with, but rather a steaming fresh pile of shit that had somehow landed itself squarely in my hands. Being who I am, I wasn't inclined to engage in shit-slinging and ended up trying to mold the shit into something comprehensible. This "plan" I had in mind involved taking pictures of various set-ups of cards and board for use in a mini-skit of sorts; not the most original of ideas, I'll readily admit.
Anyways, as I alluded to earlier, obtaining that camera was a bloody pain in the ass. (painful imagery, that) Seems like the whole of Bravo is armed with but a single camera, which happened to be drawn out by Platoon 3 just when I needed it. No problem, how long could they take, right?
Wrong. They held onto it for a day and a half before finally returning it to the company office. But. (There's always a but) But they removed the memory card; took it out of camp, in fact, to work upon their video during Wednesday's nights off. And that after repeated attempts to hurry them up. Bandied around the idea of passing the cards and boards to Ying Hui who was going home for him to take the required photographs but it was a no go, apparently cause my partners hadn't finished drawing some things. No matter, can always use the camera when I get back, right?
Wrong. Turns out the WO in charge of the camera took it with him/locked it up (I don't really know which) when he booked out at 5+, and they couldn't sign in the memory card without him being in camp, so on to Thursday, with the IC's promise that he'd return it ASAP. Okay, still one more day till Friday, a little squeezed for time, but still doable, right?
Wrong. They only managed to return the memory card after an arms drill which stretched till 10+, after which I went to the Coy office to look for the WO to borrow the camera. No such luck, he wasn't in. Went to check the store (he's in charge of it) and he wasn't there either. Spied a familiar form at the smoking corner so there I went, taking a deep breath before sallying forth. Mission accomplished (finally) right?
Wrong. Turns out I was one step too late; some of the commanders/higher-ups had taken the camera for a recce of our field camp site, they'd be back after lunch. So up to my bunk I went, fretting over the script which I wasn't sure how to resolve, not to mention the recruitment of my "actors". Down for lunch and back again, first thing I did was to go to the Coy office to borrow the camera. Asked 2IC; YES IT'S THERE, HALLELUJAH. Signed it out after the relevant paperwork and left after entrusting it to some of our OOC personnel to take the required pictures; we hadn't completed the day's activities, you see. Gao Ding! Right?
Wrong. The pictures weren't good enough, as I realized upon first glance, so I did it myself later on. FINALLY. But nope. SAF has a security policy, you see, we aren't allowed to insert/connect storage mediums to our SAF-issued laptops, so any data transfer from the camera to the computer had to be done using the 2ICs terminal. And yet by the time I realized that the pictures taken were inadequate and did the required retakes, 2IC had booked out for the day. Cursing the lack of initiative of the OOC personnel who'd spent practically the whole day in the Coy office with the 2IC, there was really nothing I could do Thursday night except fret endlessly over the whole episode, and ranting sporadically to the more sympathetic of my bunkmates, while sharing endless bouts of laughs at how bloody ridiculous the whole thing had become.
And by the time the photos were finally transferred over to the internal system, there was undoubtedly insufficient time to do up a passable presentation, as I had been planning to use the slides as a visual aid for the presentation. And thus, an onstage crucifixion (not spelt crucification, my bad).
On the whole, events weren't totally within my control (a gross understatement methinks) but I could probably have done alot more towards remedying the situation had I the foresight and been more assertive as a leader. Hope the negative ramifications aren't too much for me to handle.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Cause you're here to swim along with me
It's been a week of much irritation for me; despite the relative lehpak-ness due to that safety timeout. Where I had mentally prepared myself for fieldcamp at Tekong, I now found myself spending much of the time at the coy line/in bunk. And yet I've found some joy in all this, in the realization that I've been blessed with some pretty special bunkmates. One who reduced me to tears (from choked back laughter) over the course of a presentation; in front of the OC and half the company no less, and others who've willingly descended into this cesspool of shit I've found myself stranded in to offer a helping hand.
Something I've found to be an extreme pain in the ass though, is the whole bunch of procedural nonsense which has effectively left me with my hands tied in my attempt to see a certain project through to completion. I've mastered the bitter laugh over the course of the week, as I realized how ridiculous the situation in which I am mired in is; a situation which has only escalated, as more and more stupid little things get in my way, the epitome of course being my "quest" to lay hands on the company camera; the Holy Grail for my endeavours, within this restricted area. Typically, once I managed to get it, after a couple of episodes too ridiculous to be worth mentioning, and having captured the required pictures, I'm now unable to make use of them, due to that little technicality regarding the insertion of storage devices into our NS laptops. Go figure :S Presentation on the morrow, and I can't do anything at all ><
Helplessness and stress certainly don't go well together, but it's helped alot to have people to b!tch to about it, and who are willing to help despite how dubious and shaky the whole endeavour sounds. Thanks :)
Something I've found to be an extreme pain in the ass though, is the whole bunch of procedural nonsense which has effectively left me with my hands tied in my attempt to see a certain project through to completion. I've mastered the bitter laugh over the course of the week, as I realized how ridiculous the situation in which I am mired in is; a situation which has only escalated, as more and more stupid little things get in my way, the epitome of course being my "quest" to lay hands on the company camera; the Holy Grail for my endeavours, within this restricted area. Typically, once I managed to get it, after a couple of episodes too ridiculous to be worth mentioning, and having captured the required pictures, I'm now unable to make use of them, due to that little technicality regarding the insertion of storage devices into our NS laptops. Go figure :S Presentation on the morrow, and I can't do anything at all ><
Helplessness and stress certainly don't go well together, but it's helped alot to have people to b!tch to about it, and who are willing to help despite how dubious and shaky the whole endeavour sounds. Thanks :)
Monday, May 14, 2012
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Tradition
In SCS: Lights out: 2230
Reveille: 0500
At home: Lights out: 0530
Reveille: ????
And now that my weekly ritual's almost complete, I can go to bed
Reveille: 0500
At home: Lights out: 0530
Reveille: ????
And now that my weekly ritual's almost complete, I can go to bed
So I got rejected
Mr Ngan: Hi Christopher. How's med applicn?
Me: I was offered my second choice, Science.
Mr Ngan: Haiz. Students like u, christopher, r the ones who should be doctor. One of ur tutors said students like u r the ones we wouldnt mind teaching for 10 years. I nodded in agreement. Tcare.
Me: Thanks alot, really! Don't worry about me..I've decided to pursue an interesting education wherever it may take me..may need your help next year as well, hope you don't forget me! Hope I'm able to go down sometime to thank you properly.
Mr Ngan: Gd ure taking it well. Proves us right.
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Cause my army phone really doesn't have much sms storage space.
What are words, eh? Nothing but vehicles for thought, carriers of concern, empty if there's nothing else behind them. Maybe I tend to read too much into things, but I was touched, though it's such a simple gesture. I'd gotten over it already, but appreciated it nonetheless.
Me: I was offered my second choice, Science.
Mr Ngan: Haiz. Students like u, christopher, r the ones who should be doctor. One of ur tutors said students like u r the ones we wouldnt mind teaching for 10 years. I nodded in agreement. Tcare.
Me: Thanks alot, really! Don't worry about me..I've decided to pursue an interesting education wherever it may take me..may need your help next year as well, hope you don't forget me! Hope I'm able to go down sometime to thank you properly.
Mr Ngan: Gd ure taking it well. Proves us right.
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Cause my army phone really doesn't have much sms storage space.
What are words, eh? Nothing but vehicles for thought, carriers of concern, empty if there's nothing else behind them. Maybe I tend to read too much into things, but I was touched, though it's such a simple gesture. I'd gotten over it already, but appreciated it nonetheless.
It seems like people are making plans for me, considering things, and idk whether I really want to go along with them. Good thing I still have a couple of months left before I really have to make a decision. Why is it that I can be so certain in camp yet come back to be subject to such external influences and pressures, and find myself being swayed to some extent?
Well anyway, I believe in a greater plan, beyond that of my/your/our comprehension. The plan isn't infallible (cause nothing ever is) but the groundwork has been laid. Nothing is certain, of course, since you can plan everything out nicely, such as we did on our NDS/Navigation Data Sheets (Oh I love the NS acronyms) but if the people on the ground don't do their part, or unforeseen obstacles pop up in the way, the plan may just go awry. No choice, detour and get back to navigating. And now it feels like I've de-talced the map limiting me to my AO and I'm seeing everything for the first time. Daunting, yet ultimately inspiring. FOCUS!
So, navigation, simply put, learning how to use the mighty prismatic compass, and an exercise which involved climbing up and down a hill somewhere in the area (codename can't be revealed) looking for checkpoints; without many defined paths, traipsing our way through the deadfalls, vegetation and drops while attempting to maintain the correct azimuth. And at night, stumbling, up and down the hill, trying not to lose my footing for fear of becoming OOC (a noun, a verb, an exclamation and so much more) and joining the pikachu platoon to eventually become a private. Dreadful waste, that. It was quite fun, in truth, especially when I imagined myself having a bird's eye view of the whole affair; cadets crawling over the hill like ants, albeit horribly pixelated, each squinting through the prism, each traveling at slightly different angles to each other, crossing paths to curse about the exercise or ask for tips about the next CP before proceeding once more. I found the section level one a little pressurizing, especially when taking point. It's lonely in front, and when you're in the middle of the forest, hill sloping up to one side, trees all around, it's quiet and you don't really know which way to go, and can't ask for help from the back, like seriously "Hey guys, I think we're lost! Any ideas?" and can only pick a direction, keep on heading uphill, and pray (I use the word loosely) for the best. Thankfully I managed to guide us to our objective, sparing me the eternal scorn of the section.
I'm determined to do well in SCS, not to wayang, nor because I harbour hopes of crossing over (the stories are terrifying..) but as a personal challenge to myself. To become more fit, and to push myself, as I did during the morning's 5km run, which I found quite okay, actually, and to make the most of the time I have there, now that I have a pretty fair idea of how I'll be spending the next year or so. I don't hate NS, and I'm pretty happy to be where I am now, in a relatively conducive environment, so we'll see how things turn out.
Well anyway, I believe in a greater plan, beyond that of my/your/our comprehension. The plan isn't infallible (cause nothing ever is) but the groundwork has been laid. Nothing is certain, of course, since you can plan everything out nicely, such as we did on our NDS/Navigation Data Sheets (Oh I love the NS acronyms) but if the people on the ground don't do their part, or unforeseen obstacles pop up in the way, the plan may just go awry. No choice, detour and get back to navigating. And now it feels like I've de-talced the map limiting me to my AO and I'm seeing everything for the first time. Daunting, yet ultimately inspiring. FOCUS!
So, navigation, simply put, learning how to use the mighty prismatic compass, and an exercise which involved climbing up and down a hill somewhere in the area (codename can't be revealed) looking for checkpoints; without many defined paths, traipsing our way through the deadfalls, vegetation and drops while attempting to maintain the correct azimuth. And at night, stumbling, up and down the hill, trying not to lose my footing for fear of becoming OOC (a noun, a verb, an exclamation and so much more) and joining the pikachu platoon to eventually become a private. Dreadful waste, that. It was quite fun, in truth, especially when I imagined myself having a bird's eye view of the whole affair; cadets crawling over the hill like ants, albeit horribly pixelated, each squinting through the prism, each traveling at slightly different angles to each other, crossing paths to curse about the exercise or ask for tips about the next CP before proceeding once more. I found the section level one a little pressurizing, especially when taking point. It's lonely in front, and when you're in the middle of the forest, hill sloping up to one side, trees all around, it's quiet and you don't really know which way to go, and can't ask for help from the back, like seriously "Hey guys, I think we're lost! Any ideas?" and can only pick a direction, keep on heading uphill, and pray (I use the word loosely) for the best. Thankfully I managed to guide us to our objective, sparing me the eternal scorn of the section.
I'm determined to do well in SCS, not to wayang, nor because I harbour hopes of crossing over (the stories are terrifying..) but as a personal challenge to myself. To become more fit, and to push myself, as I did during the morning's 5km run, which I found quite okay, actually, and to make the most of the time I have there, now that I have a pretty fair idea of how I'll be spending the next year or so. I don't hate NS, and I'm pretty happy to be where I am now, in a relatively conducive environment, so we'll see how things turn out.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Get over it
I seem to run through the five stages of grief pretty quickly, though perhaps I may simply be arrested at Stage 1, only time will tell. But for now, I'm pretty fine.
Dare to dream, and have the resolve to follow through on it. That's what I shall spend the next year doing, to fulfill it with confidence, not step in with naivete. A friend told me once that to become imba you simply have to follow your interests and allow yourself to become immersed in it, without allowing laziness to overtake you. It may be a pretty hefty detour, but I hope to make it worth the effort. Much discussion awaits over the weekend, and I know I'll have to deal with betrayed expectations, but I think I'll be able to get through it.
It's been a pretty interesting week at SCS, shall write more about it later, since I have some SDL and quizzes to be done with xP Let's just say I feel more motivated to perform in here now (not that I wasn't already before!) and to maximize all that I can get out of the experience to develop my assertiveness, confidence in presenting myself and leadership as well. Hehx, all three sound pretty similar now that I think about it, but oh well.
Dare to dream, and have the resolve to follow through on it. That's what I shall spend the next year doing, to fulfill it with confidence, not step in with naivete. A friend told me once that to become imba you simply have to follow your interests and allow yourself to become immersed in it, without allowing laziness to overtake you. It may be a pretty hefty detour, but I hope to make it worth the effort. Much discussion awaits over the weekend, and I know I'll have to deal with betrayed expectations, but I think I'll be able to get through it.
It's been a pretty interesting week at SCS, shall write more about it later, since I have some SDL and quizzes to be done with xP Let's just say I feel more motivated to perform in here now (not that I wasn't already before!) and to maximize all that I can get out of the experience to develop my assertiveness, confidence in presenting myself and leadership as well. Hehx, all three sound pretty similar now that I think about it, but oh well.
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Dota 2 (Y)
My hair just got raped by my mum. I guess I shall have to say that I got assaulted by an errant barber on my way to camp =.='"
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Write for me, so that I can understand, write to me, so you know I do too.
But what are words, eh?
I don't think I make much sense these days; it's much like plucking fragments of thought and dumping them here. Without the contextual knowledge, an overall blueprint, it's pretty much impossible to piece them together in any meaningful way.
My hair just got raped by my mum. I guess I shall have to say that I got assaulted by an errant barber on my way to camp =.='"
-----------------------------------------------
Write for me, so that I can understand, write to me, so you know I do too.
But what are words, eh?
I don't think I make much sense these days; it's much like plucking fragments of thought and dumping them here. Without the contextual knowledge, an overall blueprint, it's pretty much impossible to piece them together in any meaningful way.
A fistful of sand
It's over.
Paths diverge, some branches get cut off. Such is the way of life. No use railing at it, for that's the way things are. It's already happened; I realized myself awhile back, and did nothing to arrest the progression. For that's what I'm trying to see it as, a natural progression, a given, that nothing I do will prevent. Something that is neither undesirable nor desirable but simply is. So why should I try now? Maybe we cup sand between our palms, not out of any particular wish to retain it but rather to enjoy the sensation of it flowing out of them, through the smallest gaps and cracks. Later, we repeat the process, with some grains kept, new grains introduced, and others irrevocably lost to the winds.
For me, all I can do is look towards next week as a turning point. Or perhaps not a turning point, as all the work's been done leading up to it already, but rather an unveiling of the future. My future. It's been at the back of my mind, bothering me, really. Can't get into things fully with this expectant air about things, as I await the unfurling of a map, the unrolling of a tapestry.
Ah and yes, I think I am very much fked up.
Paths diverge, some branches get cut off. Such is the way of life. No use railing at it, for that's the way things are. It's already happened; I realized myself awhile back, and did nothing to arrest the progression. For that's what I'm trying to see it as, a natural progression, a given, that nothing I do will prevent. Something that is neither undesirable nor desirable but simply is. So why should I try now? Maybe we cup sand between our palms, not out of any particular wish to retain it but rather to enjoy the sensation of it flowing out of them, through the smallest gaps and cracks. Later, we repeat the process, with some grains kept, new grains introduced, and others irrevocably lost to the winds.
For me, all I can do is look towards next week as a turning point. Or perhaps not a turning point, as all the work's been done leading up to it already, but rather an unveiling of the future. My future. It's been at the back of my mind, bothering me, really. Can't get into things fully with this expectant air about things, as I await the unfurling of a map, the unrolling of a tapestry.
Ah and yes, I think I am very much fked up.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
I try to keep buried the part of me which succumbs to anger and despair, after peppering it with volleys of optimism and positive rationalization. And these arrows fly fast and true. And yet it sometimes refuses to die, or rises from the grave to once more rear its ugly head. At these times I have learnt to stay quiet, to not let a word spoken in a moment of anger (and my head is practically brimming with these once I get on a roll) slip through my lips, to not inflict my despair upon someone else.
Words. Paltry yet powerful, if one would only pause to let them sink in.
My aim - one of them at least - is to be someone you'd never regret trusting and/or confiding in. Have to be alot more conscious of myself and the manner in which I do things in order to work towards this and accord people the proper respect. I've come to realize that people interact on a couple of levels; some more superficial and ranging to a deeper one. The former is more or less a prerequisite for the latter and one can't hope for too much of the latter as well, if not the relationship becomes very "heavy", which isn't too good as well. As it is in all things, balance is key XD
Words. Paltry yet powerful, if one would only pause to let them sink in.
My aim - one of them at least - is to be someone you'd never regret trusting and/or confiding in. Have to be alot more conscious of myself and the manner in which I do things in order to work towards this and accord people the proper respect. I've come to realize that people interact on a couple of levels; some more superficial and ranging to a deeper one. The former is more or less a prerequisite for the latter and one can't hope for too much of the latter as well, if not the relationship becomes very "heavy", which isn't too good as well. As it is in all things, balance is key XD
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Mission accomplished, yesterday, though I sure did take my time :X Things started off well at first, I woke up at 5.45; not intentionally, of course, merely the result of having an early night and NS conditioning, but immediately went back to bed again, partially dressed for a morning jog =.= well I finally managed to get out of the house at 12, initially simply to go down to the library at Nex, and get some stuff for in-camp use as well, but after awhile I just decided I'd stay out a little longer, and after discovering that the journey really wasn't as long as I had thought, set off for BTNR. Couldn't not live up to hopes afterall haha.
It felt good to get out of the house, and just walk around the place, though I didn't see much wildlife except for spiders and monkeys (no spidermonkeys unfortunately haha). Was quite cool to watch a spider spin its web though; it had the main framework up already, and was basically hopping from strand to strand in a circular manner, laying the strands of silk. It was much faster than I expected! I shan't go into the cliche about finding it a peaceful getaway from life, but I think I made the correct decision in going down :) I actually went to the top this time, panting a little; short of breath thanks to the steep steps..which probably speaks volumes about my physical condition haha. Should probably have taken my time instead of rushing, but the light was running out so I decided to abandon my search for spiderwebs in favour of going up instead. There wasn't much to look at, tbh, but it seems like a good place for a picnic, advice by NParks to not bring food into the reserve notwithstanding. Maybe next time, when I'm not going down alone xP
Had some pretty stupid stuff happen to me yesterday, some of it of my own doing and others completely out of my control, like getting stealth bombed by a ninja bird such that I didn't even realize it till I turned and noticed some crap on my left shoulder. And before that, going to the wrong place at NEX was simply disastrous; stepped in wondering why it looked different, an open concept kind of thing to capitalize on space and functionality maybe? Only to look in horror when I opened the door and saw something which shouldn't have been there, or rather I shouldn't have been there. The gasp emitted when someone saw me was enough to make me apologize profusely and make a quick exit. The signage could really be alot more visible, though I have to admit I wasn't really paying attention.
It felt good to get out of the house, and just walk around the place, though I didn't see much wildlife except for spiders and monkeys (no spidermonkeys unfortunately haha). Was quite cool to watch a spider spin its web though; it had the main framework up already, and was basically hopping from strand to strand in a circular manner, laying the strands of silk. It was much faster than I expected! I shan't go into the cliche about finding it a peaceful getaway from life, but I think I made the correct decision in going down :) I actually went to the top this time, panting a little; short of breath thanks to the steep steps..which probably speaks volumes about my physical condition haha. Should probably have taken my time instead of rushing, but the light was running out so I decided to abandon my search for spiderwebs in favour of going up instead. There wasn't much to look at, tbh, but it seems like a good place for a picnic, advice by NParks to not bring food into the reserve notwithstanding. Maybe next time, when I'm not going down alone xP
Had some pretty stupid stuff happen to me yesterday, some of it of my own doing and others completely out of my control, like getting stealth bombed by a ninja bird such that I didn't even realize it till I turned and noticed some crap on my left shoulder. And before that, going to the wrong place at NEX was simply disastrous; stepped in wondering why it looked different, an open concept kind of thing to capitalize on space and functionality maybe? Only to look in horror when I opened the door and saw something which shouldn't have been there, or rather I shouldn't have been there. The gasp emitted when someone saw me was enough to make me apologize profusely and make a quick exit. The signage could really be alot more visible, though I have to admit I wasn't really paying attention.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Numb. Maybe it's time to give up on that hope in my heart and move on. Argh I think I've gotta get out of the house. Can't be spending the whole day cooped up in my room, with my thoughts for company, and allowing this screen in front of me to drain away my vitality. The internet offers little solace, or maybe I simply haven't found the right sites.
I keep waiting for a reply each and every day, in hope that with it, the path forwards will take shape, and I can stride forwards once more with renewed determination. A yes/no is all it'd take, really.
I keep waiting for a reply each and every day, in hope that with it, the path forwards will take shape, and I can stride forwards once more with renewed determination. A yes/no is all it'd take, really.
Friday, April 27, 2012
Pain is temporary; the rewards, while not eternal, are slightly less so. Look beyond the moment and fight with the end in mind.
Aching quite abit now, but that's probably the mindset I should take into tomorrow, it's served me well for the IPPT and SOC so far. I'll never be one of those uberfit guys who can seemingly run nonstop but I can do that much at least haha.
Though I find it more than a little hard to rationalize and marry the concept of knowing your body's limits and "listening to your heart" to fall out if you can't take it and the concept of pushing yourself via mental endurance, cause when I do, it really feels like I'm going to die, in that instant. Quite cool once I manage to break through though, a really liberating and empowering feeling.
Aching quite abit now, but that's probably the mindset I should take into tomorrow, it's served me well for the IPPT and SOC so far. I'll never be one of those uberfit guys who can seemingly run nonstop but I can do that much at least haha.
Though I find it more than a little hard to rationalize and marry the concept of knowing your body's limits and "listening to your heart" to fall out if you can't take it and the concept of pushing yourself via mental endurance, cause when I do, it really feels like I'm going to die, in that instant. Quite cool once I manage to break through though, a really liberating and empowering feeling.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Some things can't be understood, and that's perfectly fine. But other things merely obstinately defy understanding, which I find a little irritating tbh
We have a little LAN cafe going on, which is pretty freaking awesome. Kinda worried what it's doing for my fittness though.
I don't really believe in a single person forcing his own point of view upon others; while I know that it's necessary at times, that's not really my style of doing things. I'd rather incessantly badger them about it, and leave them alone if they refuse to come around, while sulking myself in a corner. Which is probably why I don't make a good leader hehx.
We have a little LAN cafe going on, which is pretty freaking awesome. Kinda worried what it's doing for my fittness though.
I don't really believe in a single person forcing his own point of view upon others; while I know that it's necessary at times, that's not really my style of doing things. I'd rather incessantly badger them about it, and leave them alone if they refuse to come around, while sulking myself in a corner. Which is probably why I don't make a good leader hehx.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Time seems to be my panacea. Given enough time, all thoughts, worries and concerns seem to dissolve to nothing. Thankfully, time has been on my side, this weekend. Time for the most bothersome of thoughts to pass through my head, and fortunately, time enough for them to dissipate, resolved or otherwise dismissed.
Saturday was spent idling at home, and it seemed like today was going to go the same way as well! Luckily I managed to get myself out of the house to settle some stuff for today's bookin. One of them was to get a haircut to SCS standard, which is a little more lax than BMT; we actually get to keep some hair on top and only need to get the sides and back shaved...only haha. Halfway through my haircut, a mother brought her son who was around 6 I think in for a haircut as well. She was saying stuff like "Do you want to cut like the gorgor over there? Very short and neat!" to which the kid replied "No! I want to cut handsome!" repeatedly; which I found horribly amusing. Got my passport sized photos next at one of those over-priced photo booths before getting a card holder for my camp pass from Popular and a photocopy of my 11B at J8, all conveniently in close proximity to one another. Returned a couple of overdue books and borrowed some others before calling it a day and heading home.
I never got to finish Watt. Reading Samuel Beckett makes me feel almost masochistic; it's a slightly painful experience, especially with the tendency to go on and on, yet there's a certain quiet appeal to that writing style which makes you want to continue reading nonetheless. I wanted to at least read that one to completion yet always found my attention drawn away by less subtle things.. I did manage to appreciate though, the style (or at least my impression of it) of never directly addressing his point and instead incessantly weaving around and about it, in a very relentless and painstaking manner, and in doing so, outlining it in a way; much like that continuous line sketch drawing thing that Tian Yuan demonstrated once. Very subtle and clever, but only if one has the time and perseverance to slowly digest and ruminate over it.
And now, an abrupt end to this post, as I have a monumental task ahead of me: To polish my outfield boots till they're "as shiny as my Encik's head"; which is blindingly so. Why oh why does he have to be bald T.T
Saturday was spent idling at home, and it seemed like today was going to go the same way as well! Luckily I managed to get myself out of the house to settle some stuff for today's bookin. One of them was to get a haircut to SCS standard, which is a little more lax than BMT; we actually get to keep some hair on top and only need to get the sides and back shaved...only haha. Halfway through my haircut, a mother brought her son who was around 6 I think in for a haircut as well. She was saying stuff like "Do you want to cut like the gorgor over there? Very short and neat!" to which the kid replied "No! I want to cut handsome!" repeatedly; which I found horribly amusing. Got my passport sized photos next at one of those over-priced photo booths before getting a card holder for my camp pass from Popular and a photocopy of my 11B at J8, all conveniently in close proximity to one another. Returned a couple of overdue books and borrowed some others before calling it a day and heading home.
I never got to finish Watt. Reading Samuel Beckett makes me feel almost masochistic; it's a slightly painful experience, especially with the tendency to go on and on, yet there's a certain quiet appeal to that writing style which makes you want to continue reading nonetheless. I wanted to at least read that one to completion yet always found my attention drawn away by less subtle things.. I did manage to appreciate though, the style (or at least my impression of it) of never directly addressing his point and instead incessantly weaving around and about it, in a very relentless and painstaking manner, and in doing so, outlining it in a way; much like that continuous line sketch drawing thing that Tian Yuan demonstrated once. Very subtle and clever, but only if one has the time and perseverance to slowly digest and ruminate over it.
And now, an abrupt end to this post, as I have a monumental task ahead of me: To polish my outfield boots till they're "as shiny as my Encik's head"; which is blindingly so. Why oh why does he have to be bald T.T
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Another random thought, conceived in you-don't-want-to-know-where as I watched something plop into the water:
What kind of shape should an object have to make the most minimal of splashes as it falls towards a liquid surface? A streamlined one would seem to suffice, but somehow I think it's the initial point of contact that makes the most difference. I'd go with a pointed stick dropped vertically, but weight distribution does present a problem.
It's probably been solved, but I really can't be bothered to search for the answer right now, so I'm leaving it as it is.
What kind of shape should an object have to make the most minimal of splashes as it falls towards a liquid surface? A streamlined one would seem to suffice, but somehow I think it's the initial point of contact that makes the most difference. I'd go with a pointed stick dropped vertically, but weight distribution does present a problem.
It's probably been solved, but I really can't be bothered to search for the answer right now, so I'm leaving it as it is.
A couple of hours spent aimlessly wandering the Internet while seated in front of my laptop performs wonders as a shock back into civilian life. Though it does have the unfortunate side effect of ridding my mind of all coherent thought, so this will be pretty messy.
I think I'm really fortunate in that each time I bookout from camp, I have a very understanding and accommodating family to welcome me home. Perhaps too accommodating, but I'll leave that for later haha. It's one of the things you learn to treasure more in NS I guess. Despite the mess I left my room in when I left for SCS, things were relatively orderly when I came back, no thanks to myself. I found a new set of bedsheets on my bed, new charcoal pillows which apparently offer better support (I'll have to read the maintenance manual later..) and a new bolster as well. Though my siblings do sleep in my room when I'm in camp, I'm really touched by the thoughtfulness behind such things. Honestly, I think I may be too pampered when I'm home over the weekends, with little expected of me, which I guess may be some manifestation of the oldest child syndrome, which my uncle gleefully terms primogeniture; though I find myself doubting whether he's using the term correctly.
I found myself enjoying the past week in SCS. No doubt it was merely the first week, and things are definitely going to escalate from here onwards, but I'm reveling in this newfound freedom afforded to specialists' in training - ie SCTs - and appreciate the focus on learning and mastering the relevant knowledge and skills rather than the preoccupation with discipline and regimentation we had in BMT. On Friday alone, we learned how to strip, assemble, load, unload, and to perform the relevant IA Drills for the SAW (Section Automatic Weapon; it's bloody unwieldy), the GPMG (Some grenade launcher attachment to the SAR21; it's freaking heavy), the Matador (A disposable rocket laucher; feels even heavier, not to mention bulky) as well as their specifications, capabilities, safety concerns etc. Also learned how to operate the ACES, GPS, and radio headset; and all that before 6pm. Everything's really alot more efficient than it was in BMT, with all the procedures stripped down to the essentials, and much less waiting time between events.
The freedom is simply legendary. We finally have more than 2 hours of admin time each day, not to mention the knowledge to "jailbreak" our SAF-issued notebooks passed down from our seniors to avoid external surveillance. The most epic part is that there're actually games like CS, Pokemon, DoTA, etc available to play in camp. I see mass LAN sessions in the near future haha.
But I guess responsibility comes along with the freedom as well. I shall see more about it in the coming weeks, but basically when we're responsible for keeping ourselves on schedule, and responsible for maintaining our own standards, we have to do a good job if we don't want to be screwed sometime down the road. It should be good training as well :D
Not much else to add about SCS; maybe just that I'm honored to be a member of Bravo Coy, and really lucky to be in it with so many of my Bronco platoonmates who I can freely talk cock with; makes things alot more interesting (Y)
I guess I shall go to sleep soon, though I don't doubt that I'll find myself waking at some ungodly hour in the morning, so accustomed early morning reveille I am that I no longer need to bring an alarm clock into camp..
A weekend awaits, and so long as I'm able to look upon the world with fresh eyes, each waking day shall be a wonderful one ;)
Edit: The fact that we're gonna have to run 3km every morning next week onwards (we started yesterday) on top of PT before meals AKA Meal PT, and that on top of everyday training should show that we don't simply slack in SCS xP Managed to scrape silver for my IPPT this time around for my Cat test, so I'll aim to maintain and hopefully whittle down my 2.4 timing when the next one comes.
Short term goal: Cut away 1 min by the 5th week of SCS!
I think I'm really fortunate in that each time I bookout from camp, I have a very understanding and accommodating family to welcome me home. Perhaps too accommodating, but I'll leave that for later haha. It's one of the things you learn to treasure more in NS I guess. Despite the mess I left my room in when I left for SCS, things were relatively orderly when I came back, no thanks to myself. I found a new set of bedsheets on my bed, new charcoal pillows which apparently offer better support (I'll have to read the maintenance manual later..) and a new bolster as well. Though my siblings do sleep in my room when I'm in camp, I'm really touched by the thoughtfulness behind such things. Honestly, I think I may be too pampered when I'm home over the weekends, with little expected of me, which I guess may be some manifestation of the oldest child syndrome, which my uncle gleefully terms primogeniture; though I find myself doubting whether he's using the term correctly.
I found myself enjoying the past week in SCS. No doubt it was merely the first week, and things are definitely going to escalate from here onwards, but I'm reveling in this newfound freedom afforded to specialists' in training - ie SCTs - and appreciate the focus on learning and mastering the relevant knowledge and skills rather than the preoccupation with discipline and regimentation we had in BMT. On Friday alone, we learned how to strip, assemble, load, unload, and to perform the relevant IA Drills for the SAW (Section Automatic Weapon; it's bloody unwieldy), the GPMG (Some grenade launcher attachment to the SAR21; it's freaking heavy), the Matador (A disposable rocket laucher; feels even heavier, not to mention bulky) as well as their specifications, capabilities, safety concerns etc. Also learned how to operate the ACES, GPS, and radio headset; and all that before 6pm. Everything's really alot more efficient than it was in BMT, with all the procedures stripped down to the essentials, and much less waiting time between events.
The freedom is simply legendary. We finally have more than 2 hours of admin time each day, not to mention the knowledge to "jailbreak" our SAF-issued notebooks passed down from our seniors to avoid external surveillance. The most epic part is that there're actually games like CS, Pokemon, DoTA, etc available to play in camp. I see mass LAN sessions in the near future haha.
But I guess responsibility comes along with the freedom as well. I shall see more about it in the coming weeks, but basically when we're responsible for keeping ourselves on schedule, and responsible for maintaining our own standards, we have to do a good job if we don't want to be screwed sometime down the road. It should be good training as well :D
Not much else to add about SCS; maybe just that I'm honored to be a member of Bravo Coy, and really lucky to be in it with so many of my Bronco platoonmates who I can freely talk cock with; makes things alot more interesting (Y)
I guess I shall go to sleep soon, though I don't doubt that I'll find myself waking at some ungodly hour in the morning, so accustomed early morning reveille I am that I no longer need to bring an alarm clock into camp..
A weekend awaits, and so long as I'm able to look upon the world with fresh eyes, each waking day shall be a wonderful one ;)
Edit: The fact that we're gonna have to run 3km every morning next week onwards (we started yesterday) on top of PT before meals AKA Meal PT, and that on top of everyday training should show that we don't simply slack in SCS xP Managed to scrape silver for my IPPT this time around for my Cat test, so I'll aim to maintain and hopefully whittle down my 2.4 timing when the next one comes.
Short term goal: Cut away 1 min by the 5th week of SCS!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Knowing is just the beginning
They say that knowing is half the battle won; and I used to think the same way as well. Yet I think that as I've "matured" (yeah, in "" cause it's never a given) I've come to realize that things are rarely so easy. At this point of life, I think I'm pretty familiar with my more serious failings, but correcting them are a completely different thing altogether.
On a related note, I've recently been clued on to how I've come to "inherit" some of my parents' let's say not-so-desirable traits. My dad's tendency to lapse into episodes of talking at people rather than to them, my mum's occasional bouts of moodiness due to a moment's insight into mistakes she's made, yet being too resigned to correct them, etc. It feels strange to dissect the failings of such key figures in my life, yet I've found myself doing exactly that on more than one occasion, and thinking to myself that I wouldn't be the same way when I "grew up". It was quite shocking, really, to suddenly see them manifest in myself as well. What to do? I realize that everyone has their own failings, but knowing that such things are present within myself, I can't be satisfied doing nothing about them. A more conscious effort of restraint on my part is all I can do, I guess. Another part of me wonders, though if maybe these failings simply constitute a part of my personality, and whether maybe I shouldn't be trying to rid myself of them afterall. I really don't know.
I honestly didn't plan for the above paragraph to end with that particular sentence, yet it did. So if I don't know, how am I to begin? X.x
On a related note, I've recently been clued on to how I've come to "inherit" some of my parents' let's say not-so-desirable traits. My dad's tendency to lapse into episodes of talking at people rather than to them, my mum's occasional bouts of moodiness due to a moment's insight into mistakes she's made, yet being too resigned to correct them, etc. It feels strange to dissect the failings of such key figures in my life, yet I've found myself doing exactly that on more than one occasion, and thinking to myself that I wouldn't be the same way when I "grew up". It was quite shocking, really, to suddenly see them manifest in myself as well. What to do? I realize that everyone has their own failings, but knowing that such things are present within myself, I can't be satisfied doing nothing about them. A more conscious effort of restraint on my part is all I can do, I guess. Another part of me wonders, though if maybe these failings simply constitute a part of my personality, and whether maybe I shouldn't be trying to rid myself of them afterall. I really don't know.
I honestly didn't plan for the above paragraph to end with that particular sentence, yet it did. So if I don't know, how am I to begin? X.x
Monday, April 16, 2012
I've decided to forgo the mandatory last game of DoTA for a post instead. So maybe I've got my priorities right, for once. I've pretty much been spending the day packing my stuff to go back to camp; admittedly at a very leisurely pace, but still something productive nonetheless. I've also finally gotten round to attempting to resolve the mess which is my room. What I haven't managed to do is decide what to do with all my old stuff. Past years' notes, random little knick knacks (such as the Titanic brochure ><), a whole assortment of stuff that a person inevitably picks up as he progresses through life. Some of them mean practically nothing to me, and those I've tossed already. But the rest are really headache-inducing. There're all those random pieces of paper I never got around to filing, disorganized as I am, which however seem too much of a waste to throw offhand; as I realized while flipping through them. Memories, and lots of value - not merely nostalgic - in them too. So what to do? My uncle (now my neighbour) confided in me once, of having to "close one eye, then close the other one" in deciding what to get rid of when shifting to his present house. He realized that humans actually need very few things to get by. That's something I agree with, to be honest, yet I can't help myself uselessly clinging onto these pieces of paper, out of some misplaced sentiment or I don't know what, knowing that I'll probably never touch them for the rest of my life. I'm currently storing them in my fortunately amply spacious cupboard, putting off the decision till later.
But now for more current matters. I'm feeling rather expectant about SCS. Don't get me wrong, the past week or so of block leave has been heavenly. Civilian life is awesome, and it's a reminder of what we sacrifice by serving NS. Got to meet up with friends, catch up, play, chill. The feeling of having the luxury of being able to sit around and do nothing, sweet, blessed nothing, extended stretches of nothing; if I wanted to, of course, is very liberating. I actually spent Friday and Saturday morning reading the papers, practically cover to cover, reveling in the fact that I had the time to do so, and also hungry for well..news haha. Basically, having the freedom to do what I wanted to do has been a very relaxing and enjoyable experience, and somehow, the past week seems to have lasted even longer than the last few weeks on Tekong, which is saying quite abit. However, I'm looking forward to what SCS has to offer in terms of fresh experiences, and I have to admit that the past week of freedom has left me feeling soft once more, so I probably need it as a wakeup call as well.
But now for more current matters. I'm feeling rather expectant about SCS. Don't get me wrong, the past week or so of block leave has been heavenly. Civilian life is awesome, and it's a reminder of what we sacrifice by serving NS. Got to meet up with friends, catch up, play, chill. The feeling of having the luxury of being able to sit around and do nothing, sweet, blessed nothing, extended stretches of nothing; if I wanted to, of course, is very liberating. I actually spent Friday and Saturday morning reading the papers, practically cover to cover, reveling in the fact that I had the time to do so, and also hungry for well..news haha. Basically, having the freedom to do what I wanted to do has been a very relaxing and enjoyable experience, and somehow, the past week seems to have lasted even longer than the last few weeks on Tekong, which is saying quite abit. However, I'm looking forward to what SCS has to offer in terms of fresh experiences, and I have to admit that the past week of freedom has left me feeling soft once more, so I probably need it as a wakeup call as well.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
That's how I'll remember you,
Eyes intent on the screen, almost eerie blue glow cast upon your face.
That's how I'll remember you.
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I don't seem to feel much these days. The exuberance of POP could hardly last me through the day, not to mention the week. The prevailing emotions during my interviews early this week, besides the desire to prove myself, were ones of exasperation and irksomeness brought out by a certain line of questioning. And yet they weren't that intense as well, and faded soon after. Ditto for the disappointment of reality not meeting expectations, later on. I believe that somehow, that unofficial army ethos of "Suck Thumb" has pervaded my thinking, in a decidedly unhealthy manner. While it may be beneficial not to get too hung up over happenings, one cannot simply resign oneself to them, and even allow them to escalate and develop further. I can't/shouldn't have let myself think that there was no point arguing further, or that there was no point forcing the issue, that I should just let things be. I don't want to be such a dispassionate individual.
Just when I think I'm unbelievably cynical, something happens to make me realize how facepalmingly naive I can be at times. It's extraordinary, really haha. I really need to school myself more in the metagame of society.
Had quite abit of fun yesterday though (since I'm feeling pedantic about it) playing badminton with some of my sectionmates at CCK Sports Complex. I'm really not the sporty kind (no shit, Sherlock) but enjoy playing them; which is quite tragic I guess, but having fun is what matters, right? xP Had to run around ALOT to attempt to get to the shuttlecock for a return, and I'm still pretty much unable to return smashes, but it's very satisfying to win a point after a particularly hardfought rally; the fact that it didn't do much to mitigate the point difference notwithstanding. Well anyway, we checked our postings at the same time as well:
Was kinda expecting the posting so I'm neither elated nor disappointed. BMTC has given me some pretty good learning experiences and some tough times as well, but as always, the veneer of memory smooths over those bumpy portions very effectively. I'm looking forward to learning new stuff there! And not having to be subjected to an effective 1 month confinement is pretty comforting as well!
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And lastly, I think I've adjusted pretty well to my new house. Horrendous amounts of boxes yet to be unpacked aside, I'm relatively comfortable here. For some reason unbeknownst to me, my other siblings simply love to flock to my room, whether it's because they desire to revel in the presence of your's truly (if only other people felt the same way xP) or just because they don't want to climb the extra flight of stairs, I'll never know. But it's led to the common and honestly ridiculous situation where I find myself having to settle on the parquet floor (which isn't too uncomfortable); either that or having to poke and shove to create a sufficiently large space in the tangle of bodies for myself toslip barge my way into. Travel to and from the MRT station is simple enough; a short bus ride away, and the bus stop isn't as far from my front gate as I'd originally imagined. The Yio Chu Kang/Ang Mo Kio area is much more central, which has made travel less onerous I'd say; something I appreciate following this week's outings.
My com's been bugging me to allow it to install some updates, so I shall end here for today.
Eyes intent on the screen, almost eerie blue glow cast upon your face.
That's how I'll remember you.
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I don't seem to feel much these days. The exuberance of POP could hardly last me through the day, not to mention the week. The prevailing emotions during my interviews early this week, besides the desire to prove myself, were ones of exasperation and irksomeness brought out by a certain line of questioning. And yet they weren't that intense as well, and faded soon after. Ditto for the disappointment of reality not meeting expectations, later on. I believe that somehow, that unofficial army ethos of "Suck Thumb" has pervaded my thinking, in a decidedly unhealthy manner. While it may be beneficial not to get too hung up over happenings, one cannot simply resign oneself to them, and even allow them to escalate and develop further. I can't/shouldn't have let myself think that there was no point arguing further, or that there was no point forcing the issue, that I should just let things be. I don't want to be such a dispassionate individual.
Just when I think I'm unbelievably cynical, something happens to make me realize how facepalmingly naive I can be at times. It's extraordinary, really haha. I really need to school myself more in the metagame of society.
Had quite abit of fun yesterday though (since I'm feeling pedantic about it) playing badminton with some of my sectionmates at CCK Sports Complex. I'm really not the sporty kind (no shit, Sherlock) but enjoy playing them; which is quite tragic I guess, but having fun is what matters, right? xP Had to run around ALOT to attempt to get to the shuttlecock for a return, and I'm still pretty much unable to return smashes, but it's very satisfying to win a point after a particularly hardfought rally; the fact that it didn't do much to mitigate the point difference notwithstanding. Well anyway, we checked our postings at the same time as well:
| Your Posting Order is listed below: | ||
| 1. | You are posted to | SCS & SWAS |
| 2. | Your vocation is | INF LDR(TRAINEE) |
| 3. | Your are to report to: | Pasir Laba Camp, Blk 276, #02-15 |
| Reporting Date/Time: | 17/04/2012 at 0800 - 0830 hrs | |
| Person to report to: | Chief Clerk | |
| Contact Number: | 64105597/5594/5533 | |
Was kinda expecting the posting so I'm neither elated nor disappointed. BMTC has given me some pretty good learning experiences and some tough times as well, but as always, the veneer of memory smooths over those bumpy portions very effectively. I'm looking forward to learning new stuff there! And not having to be subjected to an effective 1 month confinement is pretty comforting as well!
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And lastly, I think I've adjusted pretty well to my new house. Horrendous amounts of boxes yet to be unpacked aside, I'm relatively comfortable here. For some reason unbeknownst to me, my other siblings simply love to flock to my room, whether it's because they desire to revel in the presence of your's truly (if only other people felt the same way xP) or just because they don't want to climb the extra flight of stairs, I'll never know. But it's led to the common and honestly ridiculous situation where I find myself having to settle on the parquet floor (which isn't too uncomfortable); either that or having to poke and shove to create a sufficiently large space in the tangle of bodies for myself to
My com's been bugging me to allow it to install some updates, so I shall end here for today.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Monday, April 9, 2012
And it's over. 24km that seemed like it'd never end, each interval seeming much longer than Lt Kai Xun said it was, as left foot followed right foot, and right foot followed left foot, one in front of the other, legs extending, for minutes that stretched into hours. It wasn't so bad initially, while we were still relatively fresh.
And I say "relatively fresh" for two reasons, the first being that my sleep the previous night was disrupted on two separate occasions, firstly waking up to a trickle, something cold and wet on my left cheek, and instinctively reaching to feel it with my right hand, only to find that it had been layered with toothpaste. Getting up in a blur, and seeing some dark forms in our bunk, which resolved into the faces of one J L TAN and someone else after I had fumbled for and subsequently put on my specs. Grumpy and pissed; who wouldn't be, getting woken up in the middle of the night by such bullshit, and having felt decidedly unwell the day before too.., I got up, confronted him, and found myself smearing the remainder of the toothpaste on my hand over his face, before going to wash up and getting back into bed. Next, waking up again, to shouting in our bunk, and groggily feeling a burning sensation on my thighs. Toothpaste once more, this time by some Platoon 3 jokers who'd come up to cause havoc, messing up shoes, spamming powder. It was an uneasy night. The second being having to do area cleaning repeatedly, up to our PS' standards, while the rest of the platoons napped.
But as we marched on, it seemed to take forever to reach the next rest point, which seemed to require an inordinately large number of steps. As the night stretched on, it became a battle of wills against the Zzz monster; to not succumb whilst marching, and also while resting as well, as it'd be so much harder to resume marching if we were to fall asleep. There were stretches where I just kept mum, looked downwards at the boots of the guy in front of me with half-lidded eyes and walked; kept only on the brink of consciousness by Darren talking to Jonathan about his dating experiences at ECP and such stuff. I don't quite know what it was that kept me from falling out; fatigue had accumulated, and I'd been suffering from a cold as well, so not exactly at my optimum condition. Abrasions starting to appear despite the Leukoplast Kai Chin could spare me, and muscle ache as lactic acid built up faster than my legs could clear. So sleepy, bloody sleepy and tired that I just wanted to lie there and do nothing, hugging my rifle and leaning against my fieldpack. And yet each time Lt Kai Xun barked the command "Everything on!" that's precisely what I'd do. Not as fast as I could have been, perhaps, but I still did it. A matter of pride, perhaps, of wanting to complete the whole BMT package, and not having to suffer the embarrassment of telling my parents not to go down to the platform cause I fell out during the march. Or maybe I was inspired by everyone around me; encouraged by the fact that everyone was going through the same thing, yet were not about to fall out. John, who was unwell during the 8km segment yet downed some Panadol and resumed the march, and Zhan Xiong, who was on Attend B
yet came down of his own accord to join us during the Changi Coast Road segment.
The CBD, Singapore Flyer and MBS all contributed to an awesome skyline view, especially from the Garden by the Bay area. It all contributed to a visible lifting of spirits towards the end, where we had seemingly broken through the tiredness and lack of sleep and were looking forward to finally reaching our destination. It was damn irritating though, how the Flyer would seem so close, yet we'd turn away from it and march one big round, or how the Sheares Bridge seemed to be moving ever further away from us haha.
It was quite an ecstatic moment, as I flung my jockey camp into the air, though tempered by having to trace its trajectory through the air to catch it, put it on and resume senandiri position once more, to wait for my parents to pick me up. The reminder, I guess, that BMT is/was only the beginning of this SAF journey ><
A week of leave I have to myself though, a week as a civilian; though graced not only with all the freedom a civilian enjoys but also faced with the realities of outside life, having to prepare for my interview and admission test this week :/
Oh and about the tag in the pic, it's an inside joke xP
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Wonder how many were put off by the word wall hahaha. I never expected I'd write so much during just 2 shifts of guard duty, to be honest. Thinking it through though, I realize how strongly I stick to the principle of thesis, followed by anti-thesis, followed by synthesis. It hounds my thoughts, governing them, like dogs held to a leash, or perhaps more positively, like horses harnessed to a carriage, giving their wild energy direction and guidance.
It's strange. We go through school thinking that everything is pointless; just for show, yet come out with such habits of thought ingrained so deeply within us, ingrained so deeply that we don't even realize it. And perhaps that's the true value of a top class education. Prestige of going to a top school aside, it's the very deliberate process of drilling such thought patterns into our minds that we truly benefit from, allowing us to benefit from a macroscopic point of view!
Views from the Sentry Post
Just going to type out what I spent my hours at that sentry post working on; during my unfortunate guard shift. It's pretty lengthy, and in unedited form, with parts written as I struggled to remain conscious, so I don't expect anyone to read it in its entirety, or for it to be a good read. Call this a temporary escape from reality, with that blasted portfolio to prepare.
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310312 1822
The sight of birds, hundreds of birds, perched on the roof, beaks to the four poles. These birds lifting off simultaneously, coalescing in a feathery cloud, frantic flapping. It wheels and cavorts in the air, joyously, gracefully, and effortlessly, making its rounds around the spires of the cable antenna, wending through the rooftops, to settle down once again. An airshow exclusive; for my eyes alone.
An ant, impressive once more, strength concealed within its fragile frame, hoisting a winged creature of some sort with its jaws alone, not constrained merely to the horizontal but traveling along the vertical as well, making its gravity-defying way up along the guard house window frame. But with its frame so slight, and the corpse it bears (for it is a corpse, surely) so wispy, maybe its not such a herculean feat afterall.
A spider; an odd-looking one, more so than any I've seen before; not that that says much honestly, skitters across uncharted land. It pauses, occasionally, or maybe frequently, I know not. But even as it pauses, its mandibles work incessantly, moving in frenetic manner, one moment towards what I must presume is its mouth, the next, extending to touch that which it treads upon. What is it doing? I wonder. The movements look a little too deliberate, if a non-sapient creature could ever be accused of being deliberate, to not have a meaning behind them. Setting the foundations for a web, perhaps. And behold, the right foremost limb decides now, to partake in this most curious of activities as well. And yet, as it moves on, continuing its journey, there is no thread.
Why? Why do we use words such as journey? An implied beginning, middle and end; and if not end, then at least an intended destination, for I speak of course, of journeys that never reach completion. A meaning attributed where perhaps whence there was none. Over-compensation, perhaps, like how the deprived adolescent sees and hears innuendo in each thing he encounters. Hence Shang Hsuen’s epiphany, an emphatic declaration “Everything’s a phallic symbol!” way back in Sec 2. A lacking inside, the answer to which we hope to find outside, foolishly assuming that if we but seek hard enough, ask the right questions, that the answer will come eventually. And yet I can’t help but feel that the sensation of lacking only intensifies the harder you search, the longer the search extends, and if you don’t seek, you may never realize something is missing at all.
And still I choose pain. Forlornness over ignorance. The hollow; the mirthless, these laughs are mine, tireless companions on this journey of mine.
A cat, black as midnight (clichéd?), not-quite-emerald eyes (to turn the cliché on its head), stalks the footsteps of my prowlers as they make their way along their route, path momentarily passing my lonely post. Bad luck stalking their heels? Hope not. Amazingly lithe form though, legs moving in an effortless display of coordination as it leaps forth in bounds, muscles pumping under its fur, black lightning streaking across the field of grass in its pursuit.
And behold, an hour has passed, almost forty minutes, incessant writing, penning down, thoughts to paper. How strange I must look, to an observer, just outside. A green clad man, under cover from the elements, under cover yet he insists on donning that cap. A black watch he wears, rotating his wrist, ever-so-slightly, in degrees, all so frequently, what use would a man have for knowledge of the time so often? In the window he stands, doorway to his back – I call it a doorway but it’s more an opening, really, what’s a doorway without a door, afterall – windows open to his left, right and front; windows open yet down he looks. Rifle, B197, if my eyes don’t fail me, slung around his neck. Carrying a rifle, yet down he looks. A pen he clutches, and with this, he writes, writes about things he sees while looking down, writes about things he thinks about, while thinking about what he writes. What is the meaning of this? How could meaning possibly be attributed to something which itself is used to pass the time while doing something meaningless? The man stops. Has he finally realized his folly? No. Furtive glances around. Reaches into his left pocket and extracts his phone.
And now he resumes his lonely, and very distracted vigil.
To my left, beyond the gate I hold the keys to; have opened and pulled apart, ponderous weight, inertia rendering it both hard to set into motion and arrest; the inbetween being no difficulty at all, beyond that gate lies a sea of green; blue-ish tint cast by the clouded sky above. It’s hard to make out anything in particular, indistinct outlines blend into the approaching darkness. I see dark silhouettes against the blueness of the sky; skeletal, bushy, though even they are soon to vanish, devoured by the dark of night.
A cacophony, a thunderous roar, ridiculous, to think that so many small chirps could accumulate to something so much greater. It erupted, from nowhere, it seems, silence shattered in one moment of concerted noise. I willingly concede though, that perhaps, intent as I was on this meaningless endeavour, I may have subconsciously filtered out the noise.
Dark has fallen, in what seems to be mere moments. The winged creatures have emerged, flittering about on gossamer wings, that look like they’d fall off with the most careless puffs of breath; and indeed did, as I unintentionally discovered, much to my regret. They congregate in numbers, as they are wont to do, around the sources of light, as if seeking solace from the darkness, solace in these bastions of light. Much like myself, as I cower in my sentry post, to be honest. Yet I find myself disinclined towards sharing this outpost of mine with such unruly visitors, who annoy me to no end with the disregard for my personal space in their ill-disciplined flight routes. I turn off the white halogen light, to signal the end of visiting hours.
Now comes a visitor who I take no offence against. Reptilian; padded toes, obsidian eyes glistening, reflecting the street lamps. Abrupt its movements are, limbs flashing momentarily, in a great flurry, seemingly here one moment and there the next, without much passage, if any, through the interim. It doesn’t stay long, a flurry of limbs, and it’s gone again.
And so the second shift ends; with a going in the shadow of a coming, a coming in the shadow of a going, and all of it, it all shrouded in the shadow of purposeless.
010412 0023
And now begins the third. Dark has truly fallen, painting the land a coat of matte black. Street lamps struggle valiantly, and do have some measure of success, in collective effort, but strain futilely against the peripheral darkness, impenetrable to their greatest efforts. Rocky Hill Camp, I must imagine, a luminescent pearl amidst the darkness, as I imagine, is Ladang Camp. And between them, Tekong Highway, 2x street lamps erect on either side, silent sentinels along the entire stretch, or so I am led to believe, the shimmering thread connecting them, in this dark of night which carpets the land. All this I imagine, postulate, for I have not been graced with an aerial view, at night, and never shall. Postulations, handwavings in the air are thus all I have to offer you, which, if you but take the time to ponder upon, can’t help but wonder if those are all the halls of academia have to offer as well.
The winged creatures of yesternight have retired; for good or temporarily I know not, and care not, save being able to say with certainty that they are no longer here; no longer pestering my person so. My sentry post is bright, once again, and I am at ease, as much as a man in my predicament could possibly be at ease, anyways. Idle wondering. Those winged creatures, did they really do wrong? All they sought was solace in the light, solace in each others’ company, as they clustered and milled around. Their fragile, short-lived existences – for though I know not the exact fate of the ones milling about that particular lamppost, I know, at least, the fate of those I saw, eyes irresistibly drawn to, really, struggling on the basin top in the guardhouse toilet, struggling in what I deem to be their death throes – which could not, would not outlive the night. Did they really do any wrong? And now, not a trace has their being left, besides some minor annoyance to be washed away, look of disgust painted upon face whilst doing so. Perhaps, there is meaning to be found, meaning of the most primal sort, as the mate in the light, each generation a testament to that which came before, and they a testament to that which came before that. An organic will passed through the ages, a living testimonial to the existence of their forefathers. But even that is insufficient for me! When the earth finally terminates its orbit in the sun, and all upon it turns to ash along with it, what then? When the Wheel of Time finally, well and truly, grinds to a halt, having ground itself down to pieces, and those pieces ground themselves even finer, and so on, till naught is left, what then? What of this living testimonial then? Anyways, to have been on this planet from XXXX to XXXX is not the kind of legacy I’d want to leave behind, or be remembered for, accounting, of course, for the frailties of human memory which I shall not delve into at this point of time. Are we to be satisfied with this? Is this its meaning in full? The here&now, revelling in the light among multitudes, cowering alone in the dark in solitude, the flavours, distinct flavours, of these moments, replayed over and over, ad infinitum, a cassette player set on repeat, till the tape inevitably wears down and breaks. The answer is beyond me, has always been, will ever be, so it seems, will always lie beyond the confines of this impenetrable sphere of reality, which defies even my most valiant of attempts to pierce, to discern the nature of reality not as an agent of it, but as an observer would, from the exterior.
I tire now, of this thinking and writing, writing and thinking, so I think I shall think and not write, or write and not think; as I think about writing about not thinking, or write about thinking about not writing.
The night is quiet, human traffic minimal. Guttural grunts from the dark outside, of frog or boar or something else entirely, I know not. There is much I do not know, that I know, and can say with much certainty. Insects chirp, a night orchestra, and I am at peace. Even now, the feathered ones persist in their calling, though much more muted, then before, and I am at peace. A little tired, true, but peacefully so. I acknowledge the meaninglessness of this activity, so anything I can take away, the most minute of impressions, of the warm orange glow cast about the camp; rays of light appearing to my bleary eyes, of the play of light on tree, gentle shadows cast, all around, of everything I have noted herein, and everything I have observed without, all a boon to me. And presto! I have created something, from nothing, working the most wondrous magick of all. And when I get back I will type this, and you will read this, and sparks are created, once again, the striking of flint against metal, sparks in the mind. Whether a fire ignites, something truly lasting, that which lies beyond the material, in the realm of spirit, that I cannot say; will not say. But the sparking is enough, for me, here&now, as the green clad man writes in the little yellow book, the material melded seamlessly with that which is plucked out of the air, melded seamlessly and transcribed, tirelessly, left hand clutching the pen, the conduit which makes it all possible, ink flowing to paper, order given, meaning invoked, and where there once was a clean meshwork of cellulose fibres and coloured fluid packed uniformly into a tube; the fluid now lies enmeshed in the fibre; no, no, it is so much more, the whole greater, much greater than the sum of its component parts.
An outburst, the breaking of a dam, and now, after what seems like an eternity, gushing forth, yet can’t have been, as the watch invariably shows, finally, the pen rests, the paper rests, but the green clad man does not rest, no; the man – and I no longer shy from using the word “man”, after BMT – the man, he continues his lonely, not as distracted vigil.
And the last shift nears its end, as the yellow book, light yet heavy, laden with hours’ exertion and dreams, is kept, safely and securely, once again. And there is a going in the shadow of a coming, a coming in the shadow of a going, and in it all, whilst the shadow of purposelessness lingers, the go-er is content.
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310312 1822
The sight of birds, hundreds of birds, perched on the roof, beaks to the four poles. These birds lifting off simultaneously, coalescing in a feathery cloud, frantic flapping. It wheels and cavorts in the air, joyously, gracefully, and effortlessly, making its rounds around the spires of the cable antenna, wending through the rooftops, to settle down once again. An airshow exclusive; for my eyes alone.
An ant, impressive once more, strength concealed within its fragile frame, hoisting a winged creature of some sort with its jaws alone, not constrained merely to the horizontal but traveling along the vertical as well, making its gravity-defying way up along the guard house window frame. But with its frame so slight, and the corpse it bears (for it is a corpse, surely) so wispy, maybe its not such a herculean feat afterall.
A spider; an odd-looking one, more so than any I've seen before; not that that says much honestly, skitters across uncharted land. It pauses, occasionally, or maybe frequently, I know not. But even as it pauses, its mandibles work incessantly, moving in frenetic manner, one moment towards what I must presume is its mouth, the next, extending to touch that which it treads upon. What is it doing? I wonder. The movements look a little too deliberate, if a non-sapient creature could ever be accused of being deliberate, to not have a meaning behind them. Setting the foundations for a web, perhaps. And behold, the right foremost limb decides now, to partake in this most curious of activities as well. And yet, as it moves on, continuing its journey, there is no thread.
Why? Why do we use words such as journey? An implied beginning, middle and end; and if not end, then at least an intended destination, for I speak of course, of journeys that never reach completion. A meaning attributed where perhaps whence there was none. Over-compensation, perhaps, like how the deprived adolescent sees and hears innuendo in each thing he encounters. Hence Shang Hsuen’s epiphany, an emphatic declaration “Everything’s a phallic symbol!” way back in Sec 2. A lacking inside, the answer to which we hope to find outside, foolishly assuming that if we but seek hard enough, ask the right questions, that the answer will come eventually. And yet I can’t help but feel that the sensation of lacking only intensifies the harder you search, the longer the search extends, and if you don’t seek, you may never realize something is missing at all.
And still I choose pain. Forlornness over ignorance. The hollow; the mirthless, these laughs are mine, tireless companions on this journey of mine.
A cat, black as midnight (clichéd?), not-quite-emerald eyes (to turn the cliché on its head), stalks the footsteps of my prowlers as they make their way along their route, path momentarily passing my lonely post. Bad luck stalking their heels? Hope not. Amazingly lithe form though, legs moving in an effortless display of coordination as it leaps forth in bounds, muscles pumping under its fur, black lightning streaking across the field of grass in its pursuit.
And behold, an hour has passed, almost forty minutes, incessant writing, penning down, thoughts to paper. How strange I must look, to an observer, just outside. A green clad man, under cover from the elements, under cover yet he insists on donning that cap. A black watch he wears, rotating his wrist, ever-so-slightly, in degrees, all so frequently, what use would a man have for knowledge of the time so often? In the window he stands, doorway to his back – I call it a doorway but it’s more an opening, really, what’s a doorway without a door, afterall – windows open to his left, right and front; windows open yet down he looks. Rifle, B197, if my eyes don’t fail me, slung around his neck. Carrying a rifle, yet down he looks. A pen he clutches, and with this, he writes, writes about things he sees while looking down, writes about things he thinks about, while thinking about what he writes. What is the meaning of this? How could meaning possibly be attributed to something which itself is used to pass the time while doing something meaningless? The man stops. Has he finally realized his folly? No. Furtive glances around. Reaches into his left pocket and extracts his phone.
And now he resumes his lonely, and very distracted vigil.
To my left, beyond the gate I hold the keys to; have opened and pulled apart, ponderous weight, inertia rendering it both hard to set into motion and arrest; the inbetween being no difficulty at all, beyond that gate lies a sea of green; blue-ish tint cast by the clouded sky above. It’s hard to make out anything in particular, indistinct outlines blend into the approaching darkness. I see dark silhouettes against the blueness of the sky; skeletal, bushy, though even they are soon to vanish, devoured by the dark of night.
A cacophony, a thunderous roar, ridiculous, to think that so many small chirps could accumulate to something so much greater. It erupted, from nowhere, it seems, silence shattered in one moment of concerted noise. I willingly concede though, that perhaps, intent as I was on this meaningless endeavour, I may have subconsciously filtered out the noise.
Dark has fallen, in what seems to be mere moments. The winged creatures have emerged, flittering about on gossamer wings, that look like they’d fall off with the most careless puffs of breath; and indeed did, as I unintentionally discovered, much to my regret. They congregate in numbers, as they are wont to do, around the sources of light, as if seeking solace from the darkness, solace in these bastions of light. Much like myself, as I cower in my sentry post, to be honest. Yet I find myself disinclined towards sharing this outpost of mine with such unruly visitors, who annoy me to no end with the disregard for my personal space in their ill-disciplined flight routes. I turn off the white halogen light, to signal the end of visiting hours.
Now comes a visitor who I take no offence against. Reptilian; padded toes, obsidian eyes glistening, reflecting the street lamps. Abrupt its movements are, limbs flashing momentarily, in a great flurry, seemingly here one moment and there the next, without much passage, if any, through the interim. It doesn’t stay long, a flurry of limbs, and it’s gone again.
And so the second shift ends; with a going in the shadow of a coming, a coming in the shadow of a going, and all of it, it all shrouded in the shadow of purposeless.
010412 0023
And now begins the third. Dark has truly fallen, painting the land a coat of matte black. Street lamps struggle valiantly, and do have some measure of success, in collective effort, but strain futilely against the peripheral darkness, impenetrable to their greatest efforts. Rocky Hill Camp, I must imagine, a luminescent pearl amidst the darkness, as I imagine, is Ladang Camp. And between them, Tekong Highway, 2x street lamps erect on either side, silent sentinels along the entire stretch, or so I am led to believe, the shimmering thread connecting them, in this dark of night which carpets the land. All this I imagine, postulate, for I have not been graced with an aerial view, at night, and never shall. Postulations, handwavings in the air are thus all I have to offer you, which, if you but take the time to ponder upon, can’t help but wonder if those are all the halls of academia have to offer as well.
The winged creatures of yesternight have retired; for good or temporarily I know not, and care not, save being able to say with certainty that they are no longer here; no longer pestering my person so. My sentry post is bright, once again, and I am at ease, as much as a man in my predicament could possibly be at ease, anyways. Idle wondering. Those winged creatures, did they really do wrong? All they sought was solace in the light, solace in each others’ company, as they clustered and milled around. Their fragile, short-lived existences – for though I know not the exact fate of the ones milling about that particular lamppost, I know, at least, the fate of those I saw, eyes irresistibly drawn to, really, struggling on the basin top in the guardhouse toilet, struggling in what I deem to be their death throes – which could not, would not outlive the night. Did they really do any wrong? And now, not a trace has their being left, besides some minor annoyance to be washed away, look of disgust painted upon face whilst doing so. Perhaps, there is meaning to be found, meaning of the most primal sort, as the mate in the light, each generation a testament to that which came before, and they a testament to that which came before that. An organic will passed through the ages, a living testimonial to the existence of their forefathers. But even that is insufficient for me! When the earth finally terminates its orbit in the sun, and all upon it turns to ash along with it, what then? When the Wheel of Time finally, well and truly, grinds to a halt, having ground itself down to pieces, and those pieces ground themselves even finer, and so on, till naught is left, what then? What of this living testimonial then? Anyways, to have been on this planet from XXXX to XXXX is not the kind of legacy I’d want to leave behind, or be remembered for, accounting, of course, for the frailties of human memory which I shall not delve into at this point of time. Are we to be satisfied with this? Is this its meaning in full? The here&now, revelling in the light among multitudes, cowering alone in the dark in solitude, the flavours, distinct flavours, of these moments, replayed over and over, ad infinitum, a cassette player set on repeat, till the tape inevitably wears down and breaks. The answer is beyond me, has always been, will ever be, so it seems, will always lie beyond the confines of this impenetrable sphere of reality, which defies even my most valiant of attempts to pierce, to discern the nature of reality not as an agent of it, but as an observer would, from the exterior.
I tire now, of this thinking and writing, writing and thinking, so I think I shall think and not write, or write and not think; as I think about writing about not thinking, or write about thinking about not writing.
The night is quiet, human traffic minimal. Guttural grunts from the dark outside, of frog or boar or something else entirely, I know not. There is much I do not know, that I know, and can say with much certainty. Insects chirp, a night orchestra, and I am at peace. Even now, the feathered ones persist in their calling, though much more muted, then before, and I am at peace. A little tired, true, but peacefully so. I acknowledge the meaninglessness of this activity, so anything I can take away, the most minute of impressions, of the warm orange glow cast about the camp; rays of light appearing to my bleary eyes, of the play of light on tree, gentle shadows cast, all around, of everything I have noted herein, and everything I have observed without, all a boon to me. And presto! I have created something, from nothing, working the most wondrous magick of all. And when I get back I will type this, and you will read this, and sparks are created, once again, the striking of flint against metal, sparks in the mind. Whether a fire ignites, something truly lasting, that which lies beyond the material, in the realm of spirit, that I cannot say; will not say. But the sparking is enough, for me, here&now, as the green clad man writes in the little yellow book, the material melded seamlessly with that which is plucked out of the air, melded seamlessly and transcribed, tirelessly, left hand clutching the pen, the conduit which makes it all possible, ink flowing to paper, order given, meaning invoked, and where there once was a clean meshwork of cellulose fibres and coloured fluid packed uniformly into a tube; the fluid now lies enmeshed in the fibre; no, no, it is so much more, the whole greater, much greater than the sum of its component parts.
An outburst, the breaking of a dam, and now, after what seems like an eternity, gushing forth, yet can’t have been, as the watch invariably shows, finally, the pen rests, the paper rests, but the green clad man does not rest, no; the man – and I no longer shy from using the word “man”, after BMT – the man, he continues his lonely, not as distracted vigil.
And the last shift nears its end, as the yellow book, light yet heavy, laden with hours’ exertion and dreams, is kept, safely and securely, once again. And there is a going in the shadow of a coming, a coming in the shadow of a going, and in it all, whilst the shadow of purposelessness lingers, the go-er is content.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
First post from you-know-where haha, in the early morning moments while the rest are doing their re-IPPTs; which I thankfully avoided by a narrow 2 seconds margin. Neat, huh? Anyway, just had a heads out, we're supposed to be doing LEARNet now, so I shall do this concurrently, while waiting for the page to load.
You've probably noticed that I've been posting much less here. That's not due to unwillingness on my part, but more due to the fact that blogging has more or less become an unsatisfactory conduit for me to express my thoughts; thoughts that won't wait till the weekend, thoughts that come in what I'd like to think are momentary flashes of insight, which tend to dwindle and pale as I try to elucidate upon them in writing. Things don't flow as freely anymore, as I try to polish my expression; choice of words etc, instead of throwing out everything in its raw form, which I find decidedly unrefined. It takes much effort; effort that I don't really have the time for.
Everyone seems to be so consumed by life lately; the immediate pressing concerns that drown everything out in the background static. Interviews, admissions, applications...all the talk of the town. And yet I find myself very much out of it; something which I felt before awhile before the As as well. It's a dangerous one; as I realized when I heard about everything that has to be prepared for Med, for example, and I also realize that I'm wholly unprepared to sit in front of a bunch of people and bloody well convince them that they've gotta take me in. Honest. Yet while I'm swarmed by the concerns of the here and now - preparing to POP, Med interviews, unpacking and tidying my room, finding my A levels cert, getting along with my section mates, to name a few, in no particular order - I find myself preoccupied with (or is it preoccupied by?) thoughts of the future. I think I'm a pretty meta kind of person, to put it in horribly vague terms, so when everyone's out there discussing interview questions, likelyhood of getting accepted into accounting or something. there I am sitting there, having extricated myself from the mess and looking at myself and saying, oh, that's where he's headed, that's where I'm headed, doesn't seem very interesting to me, to be honest; why am I doing this? Why should I make myself do this? Expectations? No, that's not it, not at all. Then why? People only have so few reasons for doing something, don't they? But none of them are really that perfect a fit! Because it feels right. Because it feels right? Yes, because it feels right. So you're telling me that you're going to stand before them and tell them that you want to do it "because it feels right?"? Well of course not; they'd think I'm a fool. But at least in the theatre of my mind, where I perform for, and appeal to an audience of one, where the only person I have to answer to is me, that is enough. The feeling of rightness isn't something easily accounted for, yet isn't something easily obtained either. There've been times in my admittedly short 18 years wherein I've had all the reasons yet none of that feeling, and I haven't been able to carry on successfully, so I'm just going to trust in this feeling and see where it brings me. Now, now I have a problem. Cause you see, I can't tell them that I want to do it because it feels right; not in so few words, so naked and direct. I've got to dress it up a little, throw in some snazzy stuff; though I do admit, I'm probably being a little too cynical right now. I've always believed that to sound convincing, you first have to convince yourself; so that's what I'll work on.
That and finding my A level cert. Neat, huh?
Oh, and all the best, if you're reading this ;) Relax, and approach it with calm and composure. You'll have no trouble, I'm sure. Things may get you down; but disappointments are Life's great gift, once you manage to keep things in perspective. They inspire you to try harder, while success only breeds complacency; while is my greatest problem, I'm afraid, when I've taken long, hard looks at the course of my life.
You've probably noticed that I've been posting much less here. That's not due to unwillingness on my part, but more due to the fact that blogging has more or less become an unsatisfactory conduit for me to express my thoughts; thoughts that won't wait till the weekend, thoughts that come in what I'd like to think are momentary flashes of insight, which tend to dwindle and pale as I try to elucidate upon them in writing. Things don't flow as freely anymore, as I try to polish my expression; choice of words etc, instead of throwing out everything in its raw form, which I find decidedly unrefined. It takes much effort; effort that I don't really have the time for.
Everyone seems to be so consumed by life lately; the immediate pressing concerns that drown everything out in the background static. Interviews, admissions, applications...all the talk of the town. And yet I find myself very much out of it; something which I felt before awhile before the As as well. It's a dangerous one; as I realized when I heard about everything that has to be prepared for Med, for example, and I also realize that I'm wholly unprepared to sit in front of a bunch of people and bloody well convince them that they've gotta take me in. Honest. Yet while I'm swarmed by the concerns of the here and now - preparing to POP, Med interviews, unpacking and tidying my room, finding my A levels cert, getting along with my section mates, to name a few, in no particular order - I find myself preoccupied with (or is it preoccupied by?) thoughts of the future. I think I'm a pretty meta kind of person, to put it in horribly vague terms, so when everyone's out there discussing interview questions, likelyhood of getting accepted into accounting or something. there I am sitting there, having extricated myself from the mess and looking at myself and saying, oh, that's where he's headed, that's where I'm headed, doesn't seem very interesting to me, to be honest; why am I doing this? Why should I make myself do this? Expectations? No, that's not it, not at all. Then why? People only have so few reasons for doing something, don't they? But none of them are really that perfect a fit! Because it feels right. Because it feels right? Yes, because it feels right. So you're telling me that you're going to stand before them and tell them that you want to do it "because it feels right?"? Well of course not; they'd think I'm a fool. But at least in the theatre of my mind, where I perform for, and appeal to an audience of one, where the only person I have to answer to is me, that is enough. The feeling of rightness isn't something easily accounted for, yet isn't something easily obtained either. There've been times in my admittedly short 18 years wherein I've had all the reasons yet none of that feeling, and I haven't been able to carry on successfully, so I'm just going to trust in this feeling and see where it brings me. Now, now I have a problem. Cause you see, I can't tell them that I want to do it because it feels right; not in so few words, so naked and direct. I've got to dress it up a little, throw in some snazzy stuff; though I do admit, I'm probably being a little too cynical right now. I've always believed that to sound convincing, you first have to convince yourself; so that's what I'll work on.
That and finding my A level cert. Neat, huh?
Oh, and all the best, if you're reading this ;) Relax, and approach it with calm and composure. You'll have no trouble, I'm sure. Things may get you down; but disappointments are Life's great gift, once you manage to keep things in perspective. They inspire you to try harder, while success only breeds complacency; while is my greatest problem, I'm afraid, when I've taken long, hard looks at the course of my life.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Have about 10 mins to post something before I'm off to the (hopefully) sunny island of Tekong once again.
Pretty eventful bookout this time; as it coincided perfectly with us moving from Woodlands all the way to Luxus Hills in AMK/YCK. I did manage to eke out the time for a little trip to Woodlands library to borrow some books for in-camp reading; it's been a while since I last touched a book (not counting that Book of SAF Core Values) and even longer since I've last set foot in a library of any kind, so was a pretty cool experience. Coolest part was that after that; I spontaneously decided not to take the bus/MRT home and instead marched my way back; with my fieldpack on my back; singing army songs all the way. I surprisingly managed to make it all the way back without exhausting my entire repertoire so maybe it wasn't so far after all, probably 4km at most? I'd never walked home from WRL before, so *dundundun* ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! haha.
Lots of packing, damn hectic, slept at 3+ on Friday, on the cool marble floor of the Woodlands house, in front of my laptop. Last time I'll get to do that, methinks. And last night was the first night here, not too bad; but surrounded by towers of cardboard boxes urgh, sneezing from all the damn dust.
Signing off prematurely, time to shower and set off ><
Pretty eventful bookout this time; as it coincided perfectly with us moving from Woodlands all the way to Luxus Hills in AMK/YCK. I did manage to eke out the time for a little trip to Woodlands library to borrow some books for in-camp reading; it's been a while since I last touched a book (not counting that Book of SAF Core Values) and even longer since I've last set foot in a library of any kind, so was a pretty cool experience. Coolest part was that after that; I spontaneously decided not to take the bus/MRT home and instead marched my way back; with my fieldpack on my back; singing army songs all the way. I surprisingly managed to make it all the way back without exhausting my entire repertoire so maybe it wasn't so far after all, probably 4km at most? I'd never walked home from WRL before, so *dundundun* ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED! haha.
Lots of packing, damn hectic, slept at 3+ on Friday, on the cool marble floor of the Woodlands house, in front of my laptop. Last time I'll get to do that, methinks. And last night was the first night here, not too bad; but surrounded by towers of cardboard boxes urgh, sneezing from all the damn dust.
Signing off prematurely, time to shower and set off ><
Sunday, March 11, 2012
In and out again; week after week, the cycle repeats itself, undeniable, immovable. No sane man curses the rising sun, nor the waxing moon; both things, I must add, I played audience to with much interest throughout my time in BMT.
6 days outfield for fieldcamp. A very eventful one, to say the least. It'd be all too easy to romanticize the whole bloody affair, but that doesn't do it justice one bit. I'm running out of time here, so I'll just describe it in a snapshot of moments:
The most pleasant one: Lying down in my shell scrape at night; head resting on my field pack, the utilities pouch on my iLBV pushed up to support my lower back, arms against the side walls. Head tilted towards the sky; admiring the almost full moon poking through the clouds; framed by the skeletal branches of surrounding trees. Insects chirp peacefully; and while I know I share my temporary home with various bugs, they don't bother me much, so I'm at peace. In the early morning, a light drizzle awakens me, it's a little cold, and I shiver, but it's not an unpleasant feeling, very cooling and refreshing, actually, the feeling of water hitting my body, and the iLBV keeps my core warm.
Most intensely horrible one: An Artillery Drill right after I'd "finished" digging the shell scrape, having expended about twice as much energy as you'd think it'd take to displace a shitload of clay from the ground with helmet and iLBV on, not to mention having to chip away; loosen and haul out the ever-present rocks with a hoe. (World Food Programme seems like nothing now~) Loud bangs shattering my brief respite; courtesy of some bang sticks or whatever thrown by our CSM, and shouts of "Arti!Arti!" hurting my ears. Rifle frantically transferred from a back sling to a neck one; right hand fumbling behind for the clip to release it. "Faster, gentlemen! You're all dead! Dead!" Dropping prone on the ground, rifle clutched protectively beneath my body, hands interlaced over my neck; frantically echoing "Incoming! Incoming!" every few seconds, till the command "Arti lifted!" is given. It's quite a draining exercise, you know: Chest compressed by the ground, rifle and iLBV, with my body pressing down upon them, unable to draw breathe, while the weight of the helmet clamped my head to the ground. I could hear my voice; relatively strong at first, gradually - very gradually - falter, till I was reduced to weakly gasping under my breath, spluttering out the words as explosions sounded in the background.
TBC. Because off I go again. Just wanted to get something down before I left, so here it is.
6 days outfield for fieldcamp. A very eventful one, to say the least. It'd be all too easy to romanticize the whole bloody affair, but that doesn't do it justice one bit. I'm running out of time here, so I'll just describe it in a snapshot of moments:
The most pleasant one: Lying down in my shell scrape at night; head resting on my field pack, the utilities pouch on my iLBV pushed up to support my lower back, arms against the side walls. Head tilted towards the sky; admiring the almost full moon poking through the clouds; framed by the skeletal branches of surrounding trees. Insects chirp peacefully; and while I know I share my temporary home with various bugs, they don't bother me much, so I'm at peace. In the early morning, a light drizzle awakens me, it's a little cold, and I shiver, but it's not an unpleasant feeling, very cooling and refreshing, actually, the feeling of water hitting my body, and the iLBV keeps my core warm.
Most intensely horrible one: An Artillery Drill right after I'd "finished" digging the shell scrape, having expended about twice as much energy as you'd think it'd take to displace a shitload of clay from the ground with helmet and iLBV on, not to mention having to chip away; loosen and haul out the ever-present rocks with a hoe. (World Food Programme seems like nothing now~) Loud bangs shattering my brief respite; courtesy of some bang sticks or whatever thrown by our CSM, and shouts of "Arti!Arti!" hurting my ears. Rifle frantically transferred from a back sling to a neck one; right hand fumbling behind for the clip to release it. "Faster, gentlemen! You're all dead! Dead!" Dropping prone on the ground, rifle clutched protectively beneath my body, hands interlaced over my neck; frantically echoing "Incoming! Incoming!" every few seconds, till the command "Arti lifted!" is given. It's quite a draining exercise, you know: Chest compressed by the ground, rifle and iLBV, with my body pressing down upon them, unable to draw breathe, while the weight of the helmet clamped my head to the ground. I could hear my voice; relatively strong at first, gradually - very gradually - falter, till I was reduced to weakly gasping under my breath, spluttering out the words as explosions sounded in the background.
TBC. Because off I go again. Just wanted to get something down before I left, so here it is.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Previous post prematurely ended as I went out for lunch with the family.
Anyways, summary: I believe in change; but don't think these kinds of changes occur easily or all that frequently.
I'm thankful for my results; and that's all I'm saying about that.
Now off to check into Resort Tekong; and I've got a week outfield waiting for me when I get there. Ciao.
Anyways, summary: I believe in change; but don't think these kinds of changes occur easily or all that frequently.
I'm thankful for my results; and that's all I'm saying about that.
Now off to check into Resort Tekong; and I've got a week outfield waiting for me when I get there. Ciao.
I find I'm reshaping myself in NS; in ways not entirely clear to me, yet, but I can already see some of the changes reflected in the way I behave with friends and acquaintances.
I believe everyone has a right to change, to reinvent themselves as they see fit. And yet I find that as I try to go forward, and look towards the future; I find myself hindered by the past. Things I've done, decisions I've made, that have somewhat irrevocably cemented people's perceptions of me, or have on a deeper level affected the way I perceive and consequently carry myself. Baggage.
Despite this belief, I find myself more than a little cynical of whether people really can change. They may be exceedingly vocal about it; or come up with a laundry list of reasons for their change; but I've grown too skeptical about such declarations. In general, I don't believe in large, abrupt changes that seemingly occur in the snap of the fingers. These changes have to occur at a fundamental level; building up from deep within. They don't burst to the surface in their full glory but rather steadily bubble up, bit by bit; and are all the more beautiful for that as you see the change express itself before your eyes. They require effort; constant reflection and introspection. It's all too easy to say that you've changed only to steadily regress.
So, I guess time will tell.
I believe everyone has a right to change, to reinvent themselves as they see fit. And yet I find that as I try to go forward, and look towards the future; I find myself hindered by the past. Things I've done, decisions I've made, that have somewhat irrevocably cemented people's perceptions of me, or have on a deeper level affected the way I perceive and consequently carry myself. Baggage.
Despite this belief, I find myself more than a little cynical of whether people really can change. They may be exceedingly vocal about it; or come up with a laundry list of reasons for their change; but I've grown too skeptical about such declarations. In general, I don't believe in large, abrupt changes that seemingly occur in the snap of the fingers. These changes have to occur at a fundamental level; building up from deep within. They don't burst to the surface in their full glory but rather steadily bubble up, bit by bit; and are all the more beautiful for that as you see the change express itself before your eyes. They require effort; constant reflection and introspection. It's all too easy to say that you've changed only to steadily regress.
So, I guess time will tell.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Reality
Had one of the sweetest dreams I've ever had after returning from Tekong last night haha. I don't usually post song lyrics here but since it featured there, that's gotta make it special, right?
Some people live for the fortune
Some people live just for the fame
Some people live for the power
Some people live just to play the game
Some people think that the physical things define what's within
And I have been there before, and that life's a bore
So full of the superficial
Some people want it all
But I don't want nothing at all
If it ain't you baby
If I ain't got you baby
Some people want diamond rings
Some just want everything
But everything means nothing
If I ain't got you
Some people search for a fountain
That promises forever young
Some people need three dozen roses
And that's the only way to prove you love them
Hand me the world on a silver platter
And what good would it be
With no one to share, with no one who truly cares for me
Some people want it all
But I don't want nothing at all
If it ain't you baby
If I ain't got you baby
Some people want diamond rings
Some just want everything
But everything means nothing
If I ain't got you
Some people want it all
But I don't want nothing at all
If it ain't you baby
If I ain't got you baby
Some people want diamond rings
Some just want everything
But everything means nothing
If I ain't got you
If I ain't got you with me baby
Nothing in this whole wide world don't mean a thing
If I ain't got you with me baby
If I Ain't Got You - Alicia Keys
I'd love to share my tales of fail, but I've recently come to realize the importance of dignity, and why I should try to preserve mine, so I'll refrain from doing so. Suffice to say; falling sick in camp is not something I'll want to do again. Totally not worth it; have to do random saikang without any consideration for your condition, you don't get much rest, and you'll have to make up for whatever you miss.
Spent the day gained from early bookout recuperating at home; alone. It was quiet, something I haven't been able to experience for way too long; late night trips to the toilet aside (which can be freaking scary, trust me). I can't remember the last time I was able to take an afternoon nap like that one, just lying down on the cool marble floor and awakening to find that hours had passed as I dozed peacefully. Freaking refreshing. I really don't see why they have to keep us awake for at least 15 hours straight in BMT, it's really not conducive to our concentration and/or morale. Might seem like a waste of the precious time I have off Tekong but oh well, what's done is done.
1 more week. I really should be more stressed about it, but I haven't really had much time to think about it during my incarceration, what with the constant flow of events as well as my illness lately. I don't think I'm all that anxious.
Que Sera Sera.
I love that phrase.
Strangely, and this is really strange; despite all the time I spend with my section and platoon mates, and occasional conversation with my family, I crave human interaction. Interaction of the decidedly none banal sort.
Some people live for the fortune
Some people live just for the fame
Some people live for the power
Some people live just to play the game
Some people think that the physical things define what's within
And I have been there before, and that life's a bore
So full of the superficial
Some people want it all
But I don't want nothing at all
If it ain't you baby
If I ain't got you baby
Some people want diamond rings
Some just want everything
But everything means nothing
If I ain't got you
Some people search for a fountain
That promises forever young
Some people need three dozen roses
And that's the only way to prove you love them
Hand me the world on a silver platter
And what good would it be
With no one to share, with no one who truly cares for me
Some people want it all
But I don't want nothing at all
If it ain't you baby
If I ain't got you baby
Some people want diamond rings
Some just want everything
But everything means nothing
If I ain't got you
Some people want it all
But I don't want nothing at all
If it ain't you baby
If I ain't got you baby
Some people want diamond rings
Some just want everything
But everything means nothing
If I ain't got you
If I ain't got you with me baby
Nothing in this whole wide world don't mean a thing
If I ain't got you with me baby
If I Ain't Got You - Alicia Keys
I'd love to share my tales of fail, but I've recently come to realize the importance of dignity, and why I should try to preserve mine, so I'll refrain from doing so. Suffice to say; falling sick in camp is not something I'll want to do again. Totally not worth it; have to do random saikang without any consideration for your condition, you don't get much rest, and you'll have to make up for whatever you miss.
Spent the day gained from early bookout recuperating at home; alone. It was quiet, something I haven't been able to experience for way too long; late night trips to the toilet aside (which can be freaking scary, trust me). I can't remember the last time I was able to take an afternoon nap like that one, just lying down on the cool marble floor and awakening to find that hours had passed as I dozed peacefully. Freaking refreshing. I really don't see why they have to keep us awake for at least 15 hours straight in BMT, it's really not conducive to our concentration and/or morale. Might seem like a waste of the precious time I have off Tekong but oh well, what's done is done.
1 more week. I really should be more stressed about it, but I haven't really had much time to think about it during my incarceration, what with the constant flow of events as well as my illness lately. I don't think I'm all that anxious.
Que Sera Sera.
I love that phrase.
Strangely, and this is really strange; despite all the time I spend with my section and platoon mates, and occasional conversation with my family, I crave human interaction. Interaction of the decidedly none banal sort.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
So, some time for a quick post; though my body seems soundly settled into that BMT rhythm and is clamoring for some sleep. Shush; I'll give it to you in a while.
I've diverted most of my recollections, random thoughts and whatnot into this little diary I'm keeping; a yellow exercise book, scribbled on either under the covers under the light from my NS phone - chugging away valiantly on its indefatigable battery - or at the head of my bed, partially shielded from the doorway by a locker. With these chickenscratches - the best I can manage - I note down the thoughts of the day, as time permits. Pretty mundane thoughts usually; with a countdown to bookout thrown in somewhere for good measure. The army's shown itself to be horrifyingly effective at deadening my brain.
Awesome to bookout. 3 weeks - plus or minus a few days - was a little too long; towards the end, I could already sense how some of us were feeling more stressed and more easily irritable, prone to flareups. So I think it quite understandable that we were all feeling super high as we marched towards Tekong jetty after a hurried dinner; crying out "BOOKOUT!" every step or so, even going so far as to replace the lyrics of AIRBORNE haha. It was hard to keep a smile off my face as I stepped onto the dry dock, which was slowing bobbing along with the waves. Singapore never looked so beautiful before haha, and the sunset just outside the Penguin's window was simply stupendous. Need to make good use of it though, seeing as we'll be booking in Sunday evening, which is in a little more than 24 hours time. It's only in such circumstances that you really start to treasure the time that you have, yeah? When the time allotted to you can't be measured in days and years, but rather hours, minutes, or even seconds.
I've diverted most of my recollections, random thoughts and whatnot into this little diary I'm keeping; a yellow exercise book, scribbled on either under the covers under the light from my NS phone - chugging away valiantly on its indefatigable battery - or at the head of my bed, partially shielded from the doorway by a locker. With these chickenscratches - the best I can manage - I note down the thoughts of the day, as time permits. Pretty mundane thoughts usually; with a countdown to bookout thrown in somewhere for good measure. The army's shown itself to be horrifyingly effective at deadening my brain.
Awesome to bookout. 3 weeks - plus or minus a few days - was a little too long; towards the end, I could already sense how some of us were feeling more stressed and more easily irritable, prone to flareups. So I think it quite understandable that we were all feeling super high as we marched towards Tekong jetty after a hurried dinner; crying out "BOOKOUT!" every step or so, even going so far as to replace the lyrics of AIRBORNE haha. It was hard to keep a smile off my face as I stepped onto the dry dock, which was slowing bobbing along with the waves. Singapore never looked so beautiful before haha, and the sunset just outside the Penguin's window was simply stupendous. Need to make good use of it though, seeing as we'll be booking in Sunday evening, which is in a little more than 24 hours time. It's only in such circumstances that you really start to treasure the time that you have, yeah? When the time allotted to you can't be measured in days and years, but rather hours, minutes, or even seconds.
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