I really question myself nowdays about the life I should be the living and the one I actually am. Is it normal to feel continuously drained and exhausted, barely holding on to the end of the line each day? I know in my heart it shouldn't be this way. My friend tells me he barely sleeps when he gets home from camp. There's so much to do outside that sleeping seems a waste. To me it's the opposite. Once I've bathed and settled into clean clothes back home, a general sense of fatigue always falls upon me, and I crawl into bed. It's as if before reaching home my body's working overtime to maintain this hyped-up state of urgency to detect and pre-empt all nonsense in camp, and once I'm back the line, stretched to breaking point, snaps.
This continuous fatigue is making me feel as though the world owes me something everytime I book out. I know it from the way I react to things. I get so irritated when I reach home and see my brother on the computer, as he invariably is, because I feel I should be granted uninterrupted access to the computer at home. I get mad at the bloodcurdlingly slow pace of human traffic in the train stations, as if the whole world is out to delay my return to home. I fume when I have to eat a lousy meal on the weekends, because I want to enjoy myself after all the crap I stomach during the week. I'm becoming a crabbier, more short-tempered person by the day; I can see it in myself. I am plagued by fears, worries, anxieties, tossed to and fro on waves of uncertainty. I need a break, a very long break to recuperate.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Friday, March 07, 2008
A raging helplessness
Writing has become my final outlet for pouring out my woes, the last medium through which I may attain some measure of catharsis. Only here do I exercise full control over what I say, being free from any of the distracting interruptions that are inevitable in conversation.
I like studying the mechanics of anger and frustration, seeing as they occur so frequently in me. At present, given the topic of my post, I am of course, angry. But anger is too general a term to describe the gamut of emotions I’m currently feeling. To try and bring the reader into my experience, I must describe the sequence of events that brought me to this pass. There is nothing remarkable about these events that have made me angry. They occur very frequently in the armed forces. However, since attempts to describe them in a general sort of way always tend to lack impact, in my opinion, I have decided that I must be specific and describe them as they are.
To begin with let’s start with Monday. On Monday I discovered that my ship would be sailing till 7pm, thereby preventing me from joining my cell group for the dinner they were planning to have in celebration of my birthday the next day. Well and good. Next, I discovered that the whole week’s schedule was to be changed dramatically. Because of that demented fanatic on the loose, my ship has been tasked to patrol the area to look for him. So, that meant spending Tuesday, my birthday, out at sea. To add insult to injury, Thursday, which is now designated as an off day for the crew due to patrol duty this Sunday (yes, I have to sail on Sunday too), became my duty date. This means while everyone goes for an off day, I have to come back for duty. So I’ve been sailing since Tuesday, and only just came back home. This Friday I will sail again, so in effect Saturday will be my only rest day. So much for birthdays.
Hungry, tired, trying to make my way back home, I found the roads jammed with traffic. After an hour and a half from Tuas I finally reached Serangoon station, only to wait a further 15 minutes for the bus. When I got off at my stop, I headed for the market to buy dinner. Realising I had no money, I went to the ATM, and saw a long queue, which meant I had to wait another 10 minutes. That being done I waited 5 more minutes for my food before finally returning home.
That’s the sequence of events that got me into this state. It’s an all too familiar feeling. An angry, frustrated resignation that just drains me. I’m so tired of feeling this way all the time. Overwhelmingly it’s a feeling of helplessness, the feeling that nothing is going your way and you’re powerless to change the situation. It raises strong surges of anger within me, made all the more stronger by the constant recognition that nothing I do will help the situation. It’s a vicious cycle, this raging helplessness. It all adds up to a very potent brew that’s been stirring in me for a long time now, indeed ever since I enlisted. I hate the army, and I’m tired of hating, and I know nothing I do will hasten my exit from the army, thereby making me hate it more, and fall into this weary resignation. How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.
Coda:
The above post is two days late, as it was originally intended for Wednesday. But once again, as part of a never-ending series of little things to annoy me, my modem failed to start up that day, so I saved all my ramblings on Word. Since then I've thought of a few more things to say.
I would like to destroy once and for all the myth that sailing is fun and exciting. I know that to the land-bound person the idea of a ship on the high seas will always carry with it visions of romance and adventure. It is a very easy fantasy to fall into if you watch enough movies and television. But like all such fantasies based on reel life, it is highly erroneous. A few misconceptions must be corrected here.
Firstly, when I sail, I do not end up at foreign port. To the civilian, a voyage must always start at home and end up at some foreign destination. This is wrong. Most navy ships simply sail out to the surrounding straits for patrols or operations before returning back to base. Many of these exercises can be completed within a day, therefore it is not true that a sailor is necessarily well-travelled in the popular sense of the phrase.
Secondly, and more importantly, there is nothing exciting about sailing. It is as dull as, say, taking a ferry to Batam. I simply stay onboard and perform the tasks required of my vocation, which are dull and monotonous too, and basically that's it. All talk of the sun and sea and the salty tang of the air in my face are poetic fantasies written by people who were either sailing in an earlier age when ships weren't completed air-conditioned, or who were sailing for leisure. Most of the time the crew is indoors, watching DVDs or sleeping or eating. As these things can be done much more comfortably at home, I see little excitement to be made about sailing. So please, to everyone who gushes "That sounds fun!" each time I tell them I'm sailing, excuse me if my reply to you sounds weary and cynical.
I like studying the mechanics of anger and frustration, seeing as they occur so frequently in me. At present, given the topic of my post, I am of course, angry. But anger is too general a term to describe the gamut of emotions I’m currently feeling. To try and bring the reader into my experience, I must describe the sequence of events that brought me to this pass. There is nothing remarkable about these events that have made me angry. They occur very frequently in the armed forces. However, since attempts to describe them in a general sort of way always tend to lack impact, in my opinion, I have decided that I must be specific and describe them as they are.
To begin with let’s start with Monday. On Monday I discovered that my ship would be sailing till 7pm, thereby preventing me from joining my cell group for the dinner they were planning to have in celebration of my birthday the next day. Well and good. Next, I discovered that the whole week’s schedule was to be changed dramatically. Because of that demented fanatic on the loose, my ship has been tasked to patrol the area to look for him. So, that meant spending Tuesday, my birthday, out at sea. To add insult to injury, Thursday, which is now designated as an off day for the crew due to patrol duty this Sunday (yes, I have to sail on Sunday too), became my duty date. This means while everyone goes for an off day, I have to come back for duty. So I’ve been sailing since Tuesday, and only just came back home. This Friday I will sail again, so in effect Saturday will be my only rest day. So much for birthdays.
Hungry, tired, trying to make my way back home, I found the roads jammed with traffic. After an hour and a half from Tuas I finally reached Serangoon station, only to wait a further 15 minutes for the bus. When I got off at my stop, I headed for the market to buy dinner. Realising I had no money, I went to the ATM, and saw a long queue, which meant I had to wait another 10 minutes. That being done I waited 5 more minutes for my food before finally returning home.
That’s the sequence of events that got me into this state. It’s an all too familiar feeling. An angry, frustrated resignation that just drains me. I’m so tired of feeling this way all the time. Overwhelmingly it’s a feeling of helplessness, the feeling that nothing is going your way and you’re powerless to change the situation. It raises strong surges of anger within me, made all the more stronger by the constant recognition that nothing I do will help the situation. It’s a vicious cycle, this raging helplessness. It all adds up to a very potent brew that’s been stirring in me for a long time now, indeed ever since I enlisted. I hate the army, and I’m tired of hating, and I know nothing I do will hasten my exit from the army, thereby making me hate it more, and fall into this weary resignation. How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.
Coda:
The above post is two days late, as it was originally intended for Wednesday. But once again, as part of a never-ending series of little things to annoy me, my modem failed to start up that day, so I saved all my ramblings on Word. Since then I've thought of a few more things to say.
I would like to destroy once and for all the myth that sailing is fun and exciting. I know that to the land-bound person the idea of a ship on the high seas will always carry with it visions of romance and adventure. It is a very easy fantasy to fall into if you watch enough movies and television. But like all such fantasies based on reel life, it is highly erroneous. A few misconceptions must be corrected here.
Firstly, when I sail, I do not end up at foreign port. To the civilian, a voyage must always start at home and end up at some foreign destination. This is wrong. Most navy ships simply sail out to the surrounding straits for patrols or operations before returning back to base. Many of these exercises can be completed within a day, therefore it is not true that a sailor is necessarily well-travelled in the popular sense of the phrase.
Secondly, and more importantly, there is nothing exciting about sailing. It is as dull as, say, taking a ferry to Batam. I simply stay onboard and perform the tasks required of my vocation, which are dull and monotonous too, and basically that's it. All talk of the sun and sea and the salty tang of the air in my face are poetic fantasies written by people who were either sailing in an earlier age when ships weren't completed air-conditioned, or who were sailing for leisure. Most of the time the crew is indoors, watching DVDs or sleeping or eating. As these things can be done much more comfortably at home, I see little excitement to be made about sailing. So please, to everyone who gushes "That sounds fun!" each time I tell them I'm sailing, excuse me if my reply to you sounds weary and cynical.
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