Do you ever get one of those times when you've received so many orders and duties at work you just want to relax at home on a weekend and not do anything at all? I guess it happens to everyone. You serve others so much at work you just want to be served on your off days. You don't want to think about anything even moderately stressful; you don't want to hear the word "duty"; you don't want to do anything for anyone. In short you just want to be left alone. I get that feeling all the time. I think ever since I enlisted I've developed a variation of the victim mentality, that since I do so much shit work (pardon my language) for others throughout the week I demand the best service and pleasure during the weekends. And I get angry whenever my time is wasted during the weekends.
I'll be frank about what started me on this rant. (I rant a lot these days don't I? But what's the point of this blog if not to allow me to purge my frustration?) I was asked to "serve" by doing games for cell group this Saturday. It seriously is not the fault of the person who asked me. It was an instinctive response on my part to shirk away from all responsibility on a weekend, on a day when I feel I should be served, not cracking my brain about how to keep 20 people entertained with some banal game. I know I sound horribly self-centred. But I can't deny the fact that I was irked. I was irked that I was asked to perform a duty for the cell on the first Saturday I'm able to attend after two consecutive weeks of weekend duties. To add insult to injury, I was asked about this yesterday, during my duty in yard.
Her exact words were, "Would you like to serve?" I wonder why she phrased it like that. That was what got to me. Usually people just ask, "Hey, can you do games this sat..." But this was different. And when longsuffering me replied in the affirmative, albeit with a very reluctant tone, her response was this, "Be joyful! It's serving the Lord too! :)"
I don't know, but at that moment I was tempted to reply that certain people believe that blowing themselves up in the middle of a crowd is service to God too. Well, I didn't say that, but her obliviously joyous tone was grating to my heavy spirit.
If I force myself to look at the situation objectively, and in a Christian spirit, then yes, I reluctantly have to say that doing games is a service to God, for whoever serves these little ones serves Him as well, no matter how mind numbingly boring the act may be. And yes, I know I shouldn't let circumstances dictate my happiness. Joy is an act of the will, the decision to rejoice in spite of one's circumstances, and to pray the God will supply the happy feelings. Well then, God help me find a banal game to entertain 20 people this weekend.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Materialism
These days when I sit before the monitor trying to blog I am always struck by a sense of emptiness, as though there's nothing worth saying here. Why do I bother blogging? This is not a private journal, and yet I feel the urge the pour out my deepest, darkest troubles onto the world. Isn't that sheer exhibitionism? Yet I take some comfort in the fact that no one reads my blog anymore, so there is a measure of privacy, even if I'm just trying to delude myself.
What to say though? I just feel empty and shallow these days. I've felt this way before, years back in school. It's the feeling I get when I realise my happiness depends on nothing more than the material, like the next time I book out, or my next meeting with friends, shopping, eating, watching a movie. I enjoy all these things, but nowadays I sense they've gotten too much of a hold on me, to the extent that I wonder sometimes about the day I finally ORD. When all this trouble, the thorn in my neck for two years, is gone, will I just feel empty and rootless? Because as of now, NS provides a counterpoint to my material happiness, the black to my white. How then will I know beauty if I live on a bed of roses? At such a point I usually convince myself that the gloom that's descended on me is linked much closer to NS than just my shallow materialism, and that my ORD will not see a dying out of euphoria a few days after it.
And yet I cannot ignore what I just called my shallow materialism. Shallow, ha. To think I would call myself that. Maybe not exactly shallow. Materialistic more like it. Shallowness would imply an inability to see the emptiness, an inability to notice the deep end a few metres beyond the bathing pool. But how? How to shake this off? It's linked, I know deep down it is, to my increasing detachment from the spiritual life. And what plagues me most is my inertia, my sheer laziness to get up and do something about it. Writing does not help in practical action here. Maybe writing clarifies things, brings thought into focus, but it certainly does not dispel sloth. Prayer? You know alot of times I feel my prayers are mere words without actions, a temporary balm to appease a vengeful deity. Completely erroneous of me I know, but these are the sort of thought errors I am liable to fall into without rigorous correction time and time again. My God is both Saviour and Lord, the Righteous Judge who also stands as my Advocate in heaven. I need to bring back that balance in my life. And yet words without thoughts never to heaven go.
What to say though? I just feel empty and shallow these days. I've felt this way before, years back in school. It's the feeling I get when I realise my happiness depends on nothing more than the material, like the next time I book out, or my next meeting with friends, shopping, eating, watching a movie. I enjoy all these things, but nowadays I sense they've gotten too much of a hold on me, to the extent that I wonder sometimes about the day I finally ORD. When all this trouble, the thorn in my neck for two years, is gone, will I just feel empty and rootless? Because as of now, NS provides a counterpoint to my material happiness, the black to my white. How then will I know beauty if I live on a bed of roses? At such a point I usually convince myself that the gloom that's descended on me is linked much closer to NS than just my shallow materialism, and that my ORD will not see a dying out of euphoria a few days after it.
And yet I cannot ignore what I just called my shallow materialism. Shallow, ha. To think I would call myself that. Maybe not exactly shallow. Materialistic more like it. Shallowness would imply an inability to see the emptiness, an inability to notice the deep end a few metres beyond the bathing pool. But how? How to shake this off? It's linked, I know deep down it is, to my increasing detachment from the spiritual life. And what plagues me most is my inertia, my sheer laziness to get up and do something about it. Writing does not help in practical action here. Maybe writing clarifies things, brings thought into focus, but it certainly does not dispel sloth. Prayer? You know alot of times I feel my prayers are mere words without actions, a temporary balm to appease a vengeful deity. Completely erroneous of me I know, but these are the sort of thought errors I am liable to fall into without rigorous correction time and time again. My God is both Saviour and Lord, the Righteous Judge who also stands as my Advocate in heaven. I need to bring back that balance in my life. And yet words without thoughts never to heaven go.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Drained
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Fishes of Men
A disastrous thing happened today, an event of unprecedented proportions. For the first time in my life, I had to pay extra for wastages at a sushi buffet. Yes, I ended up paying double of the actual buffet price, because the amount of food we had left on the table was equivalent, no, more in fact, than the normal buffet price. It is a sad tale to tell...
Quek and I went to Cineleisure to eat at that smelly place, as no other sushi restaurant serves teatime buffet over the weekend. We reached it after 4, but the buffet ends at 5.30, with the last order being at 5. We only got a table at 4.35, and so we had to rush to order all the extra ala-carte buffet items that are not found on the revolving belt. In our haste we made the foolish mistake of overestimating our appetites and ordered double, triple even, of everything. And having done so, we proceeded to stuff our faces with more food from the belt. A foolish, foolish mistake. By the time the extra food ordered came, we were already full. What a disaster that was.
We were like drunks after that, laughing bitterly, senses gorged, faculties functioning at 10% in Quek's case. It is truly an unprecedented disaster. In our shock I suppose our minds tried to force some meaning into the event. He said this felt important. It is important, but beyond the immediate blow to our wallets the ramifications are harder to explain. One thing's certain; this is a confirmation of our shrinking appetites and ageing bodies. We are growing old, my friend, oh yes. No more feasts for us, I think, but gluttony of delicacy can be a pleasant alternative.
And one more thing. We were lamenting our precarious position in life at the moment, how it seems that, at age 20, we are adrift, directionless, bereft of the joy, meaning and purpose that we, as the redeemed people, should rightfully possess. A quarter-life crisis is upon us. On my part I feel spiritually lazy, and lost as well. I enjoy C.S. Lewis, but I think there's a problem when I read his books just for the intellectual stimulation. Religion cannot be a mere mental exercise, something to muse and ponder about over a cup of coffee or heaps of unfinished sushi plates. And yet I feel increasingly like an armchair Christian. I'd like to say that the idea of the perpetually joyful, faithful Christian who moves through life with purpose and meaning is a stereotypical fantasy that non-believers or the naive think, but truth be told, are we merely using that as an excuse to cover up the fact that our faith is woefully inadequate when in actual fact, the true Christian life is one of power, joy, peace, purpose?
I think I'll end with that rhetorical question for today. Time to think a bit, and hopefully, act.
Quek and I went to Cineleisure to eat at that smelly place, as no other sushi restaurant serves teatime buffet over the weekend. We reached it after 4, but the buffet ends at 5.30, with the last order being at 5. We only got a table at 4.35, and so we had to rush to order all the extra ala-carte buffet items that are not found on the revolving belt. In our haste we made the foolish mistake of overestimating our appetites and ordered double, triple even, of everything. And having done so, we proceeded to stuff our faces with more food from the belt. A foolish, foolish mistake. By the time the extra food ordered came, we were already full. What a disaster that was.
We were like drunks after that, laughing bitterly, senses gorged, faculties functioning at 10% in Quek's case. It is truly an unprecedented disaster. In our shock I suppose our minds tried to force some meaning into the event. He said this felt important. It is important, but beyond the immediate blow to our wallets the ramifications are harder to explain. One thing's certain; this is a confirmation of our shrinking appetites and ageing bodies. We are growing old, my friend, oh yes. No more feasts for us, I think, but gluttony of delicacy can be a pleasant alternative.
And one more thing. We were lamenting our precarious position in life at the moment, how it seems that, at age 20, we are adrift, directionless, bereft of the joy, meaning and purpose that we, as the redeemed people, should rightfully possess. A quarter-life crisis is upon us. On my part I feel spiritually lazy, and lost as well. I enjoy C.S. Lewis, but I think there's a problem when I read his books just for the intellectual stimulation. Religion cannot be a mere mental exercise, something to muse and ponder about over a cup of coffee or heaps of unfinished sushi plates. And yet I feel increasingly like an armchair Christian. I'd like to say that the idea of the perpetually joyful, faithful Christian who moves through life with purpose and meaning is a stereotypical fantasy that non-believers or the naive think, but truth be told, are we merely using that as an excuse to cover up the fact that our faith is woefully inadequate when in actual fact, the true Christian life is one of power, joy, peace, purpose?
I think I'll end with that rhetorical question for today. Time to think a bit, and hopefully, act.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
10 more months to go. Much has happened since I last posted. I went to Port Blair and came back and a few days ago I finally passed out officially from training. Now I'm a posted crew member onboard ship, which means that my life onboard should get better. For those wondering, I did not go to mainland India. I went to the Andaman Nicobar Islands which belong to India. Port Blair is the capital of the islands, which happen to be located in the Andaman Sea, north of Sumatra. For those who don't know where Sumatra is, get a map.
Since coming back I've been sailing practically everyday. It's quite tiring, and waking up freezing each morning is not exactly pleasant. But now that I'm a posted crew member I'll get to go home much more often, and that will hopefully make things better.
I need a new game.. I'm quite bored with the ones I have now, which are fairly old. Sins of a Solar Empire seems quite interesting..
Since coming back I've been sailing practically everyday. It's quite tiring, and waking up freezing each morning is not exactly pleasant. But now that I'm a posted crew member I'll get to go home much more often, and that will hopefully make things better.
I need a new game.. I'm quite bored with the ones I have now, which are fairly old. Sins of a Solar Empire seems quite interesting..
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
11 months to go
I've decided to post an entry on the 15th of each month. This is to maintain a constant stream of updates to this erstwhile dead blog, but most importantly, to mark the the fact that I'm one month closer to freedom. The 15th of December '06, you see, was the date I enlisted, and as you can see from the title of this post, I have 11 more months to go. Short, and yet too long. An entire year! My only consolation is that the previous month passed quickly enough. May all months pass as quickly, but let time stand still once I regain civilian status.
Today is also significant for another matter. I sail for India later in the afternoon, and I won't be back till the 31st, so don't try and contact me. To be precise I'll be heading for the Nicobar islands in the Andaman Sea, which belong to India, so I won't be setting foot on mainland India. Hopefully I won't get seasick. The thought of living with and seeing the same annoying people day after day is really a downer. Oh well, wish me bon voyage!
Today is also significant for another matter. I sail for India later in the afternoon, and I won't be back till the 31st, so don't try and contact me. To be precise I'll be heading for the Nicobar islands in the Andaman Sea, which belong to India, so I won't be setting foot on mainland India. Hopefully I won't get seasick. The thought of living with and seeing the same annoying people day after day is really a downer. Oh well, wish me bon voyage!
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Joy to the world
And it came to pass in those days that the malls began decking their halls with more than holly, and the ceasars of commerce declared that all the world should spend freely. Christmas is here again, my favourite holiday of the year. As commercialised and secular as it has begun, all the red, gold, green and snow of Christmas always conjures up such festive and nostalgic feelings within me. I've always wanted to spend Christmas in a cosy armchair next to a crackling fire on the hearth, while outside my quaint cottage snow falls gently, and church bells chime. An impossibly romantic picture drawn from Disney and Hallmark, but I still yearn for it every time this season rolls around.
This is my second and last Christmas spent while in NS. This time next year I shall be out of the grasp of this wretched organisation, and perhaps I shall then spend Christmas overseas in some snow clad country. I've always wanted to go back to Switzerland. But my mom says you shouldn't return to the same place as the feeling's always different, and I agree with her. But it's been so long. I was P6 then. I wouldn't mind Italy though. In fact I wouldn't mind any place in Europe. I just want to get out of this country. It's NS. It's always NS, getting to me. The army has become my favourite whipping boy. If I could blame every bad thing that happens to me on it, I would. In fact in most cases, I do.
Ah nevermind. Here's to my next Christmas, and better days ahead. Joy to the world.
This is my second and last Christmas spent while in NS. This time next year I shall be out of the grasp of this wretched organisation, and perhaps I shall then spend Christmas overseas in some snow clad country. I've always wanted to go back to Switzerland. But my mom says you shouldn't return to the same place as the feeling's always different, and I agree with her. But it's been so long. I was P6 then. I wouldn't mind Italy though. In fact I wouldn't mind any place in Europe. I just want to get out of this country. It's NS. It's always NS, getting to me. The army has become my favourite whipping boy. If I could blame every bad thing that happens to me on it, I would. In fact in most cases, I do.
Ah nevermind. Here's to my next Christmas, and better days ahead. Joy to the world.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Back in the bully pulpit
Yesterday Owen and I took part in the inaugural Singapore Debate Open, after a painful prelude to it which is too long and messy to be related here. The important thing is that the Open was thoroughly enjoyable and worth all the hassle. We did relatively well, coming in 2nd, 3rd, and 2nd for the three preliminary rounds, which is even more commendable considering the following conditions: (a) we have not debated competitively in over a year, (b) this would be the first time we were debating in British Parliamentary style, and most crucially (c) we are serving NS, meaning our brains have been more or less languishing in limbo for the past year. And now, for a blow by blow account of the day.
For those who don't know, the British Parliamentary (BP) style of debating involves 4 teams of 2 in the same room, with 2 teams on each side. This is why instead of just saying who won the debate, judges rank the teams from 1 to 4, with 1st position worth 3 points and 4th earning you zero. Yesterday we got 5 points out of a possible 9.
The first motion was on political freedom: THBT the West should end military cooperation with Pakistan till it allows political opposition candidates to return home from exile. I shall always remeber this debate as the one where I successfully gave Owen a 10 minute briefing on the Pakistani domestic situation, AND, he pulled it off in his speech. The chief adjudicator was convinced he knew his stuff. As for me he was sufficiently impressed by my in-depth analysis (I ripped from the economist most liberally) to invite me to join NUS debates when I enter haha.
The second was THW ban the extradition of accused serial rapists to countries which might impose the death penalty by stoning. This one was bad. Very messy and frankly, my speech was appalling. We both know next to nuts about Shariah law except that it allows stoning to death and some half-formed assertions on its lack of accountability etc. Ah well, at least we weren't ranked 4th.
Now, the last debate was most interesting. THBT all churches should stop preaching that homosexuality is an abomination. I happened to be on the side of the closing government, so you can imagine my initial doubts about this motion. But as in all debates it really doesn't matter what side you're initially on. Every argument can be rebutted. In this case I suppose it was a little more extreme, but we pulled it off. In fact I gave my best speech of the day for it. I wonder what implications that has...
So, overall, a very fruitful and enjoyable experience. What I like about BP style is its rowdiness and aggression. You have people crying "hear, hear" or "shame, shame" from both sides of the house, and at one point it almost resembled a shouting match haha. I suppose it adds some spice.
For those who don't know, the British Parliamentary (BP) style of debating involves 4 teams of 2 in the same room, with 2 teams on each side. This is why instead of just saying who won the debate, judges rank the teams from 1 to 4, with 1st position worth 3 points and 4th earning you zero. Yesterday we got 5 points out of a possible 9.
The first motion was on political freedom: THBT the West should end military cooperation with Pakistan till it allows political opposition candidates to return home from exile. I shall always remeber this debate as the one where I successfully gave Owen a 10 minute briefing on the Pakistani domestic situation, AND, he pulled it off in his speech. The chief adjudicator was convinced he knew his stuff. As for me he was sufficiently impressed by my in-depth analysis (I ripped from the economist most liberally) to invite me to join NUS debates when I enter haha.
The second was THW ban the extradition of accused serial rapists to countries which might impose the death penalty by stoning. This one was bad. Very messy and frankly, my speech was appalling. We both know next to nuts about Shariah law except that it allows stoning to death and some half-formed assertions on its lack of accountability etc. Ah well, at least we weren't ranked 4th.
Now, the last debate was most interesting. THBT all churches should stop preaching that homosexuality is an abomination. I happened to be on the side of the closing government, so you can imagine my initial doubts about this motion. But as in all debates it really doesn't matter what side you're initially on. Every argument can be rebutted. In this case I suppose it was a little more extreme, but we pulled it off. In fact I gave my best speech of the day for it. I wonder what implications that has...
So, overall, a very fruitful and enjoyable experience. What I like about BP style is its rowdiness and aggression. You have people crying "hear, hear" or "shame, shame" from both sides of the house, and at one point it almost resembled a shouting match haha. I suppose it adds some spice.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
TV is black and white
I just watched Hairspray and it's fantastic. I haven't enjoyed watching a movie so much in a long time. It was thoroughly entertaining, bursting with energy, colour, movement, all the ingredients of a greatr musical. I've always liked musicals. Here's to hoping Hollywood continues to produce more of them.
It's interesting how it took a movie to make me post something new again. Guess I just felt in a good mood after watching it. Haha, anyway, I'll be catching The Campaign to Confer the Public Star on JBJ next month. Hope it's good. I've already missed so many good stage productions this year. First it was Phantom of the Opera, then King Lear (by Ian McKellen no less), and now The King and I. Why do all the big shows come to town when I'm in NS? Ah well, hopefully 2009 won't be too bad.
It's interesting how it took a movie to make me post something new again. Guess I just felt in a good mood after watching it. Haha, anyway, I'll be catching The Campaign to Confer the Public Star on JBJ next month. Hope it's good. I've already missed so many good stage productions this year. First it was Phantom of the Opera, then King Lear (by Ian McKellen no less), and now The King and I. Why do all the big shows come to town when I'm in NS? Ah well, hopefully 2009 won't be too bad.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Passing out, again, and again, and again...
I'm quite sure no one drops by to check my blog these days. I don't expect them to; it's been dead for months. So I'm not quite sure if anyone will read this, but in any case, I feel that I should update, if for no other reason than to keep a record for myself so that 10 years down the road I may read this and laugh. Of course, Blogger might not be around 10 years down the road. That raises interesting problems about sentimentality I suppose.
Anyway, I wanted to say that I'm passing out of my Naval Junior Ratings course tomorrow. It's like the most basic course in the Navy that everyone goes through. Next week I'll be informed of my vocation, so hopefully I'll get a good one. Thuis will be the third time I'm passing out of some course, despite the fact someone once said you only pass out once...
I'm frequently amazed at the places and situations in which I find myself in the military. Amazement does not necessarily connote delight of course, but in this case I find myself pleasantly surprised to be doing something I'm fairly familiar with out in the civilian world. My OC asked me to be the emcee for tomorrow's passing out ceremony this morning. This morning I was onboard ship, entereing harbour. This evening I'm sitting in front of my computer typing. I often find it... interesting to note how much difference a few hours can make in the military. In any case, I find it quite nice to be able to exercise skills one would not normally associate with uniformed personnel haha.
You know, whenever I visit my friend's blog I begin to worry at my increasing lack of introspection. All too often I find myself just being content to let the days slip by without trying to achieve something worthwhile. Or rather, I find myself hoping the days will pass by quicker so I can escape whatever unpleasant activities I have lined up for me on that particular days. There's so much time lost in the process, so much time lost doing nothing that was significant. I have become spiritually lazy. Sitting down to spend some quiet time is almost a chore. I cannot, or rather I'm too lazy, to focus on God. I think I have allowed myself to fall into this habit. After letting time just fly past me, I'm too lazy to get a grip on myself and re-focus. And all the while, the masquerade must go on, while my foundations slip. Perhaps "lack of introspection" was the wrong phrase. I know myself all too well. I'm just too lazy, and afraid, to act on it. Or should I say, to let Him act on it?
Anyway, I wanted to say that I'm passing out of my Naval Junior Ratings course tomorrow. It's like the most basic course in the Navy that everyone goes through. Next week I'll be informed of my vocation, so hopefully I'll get a good one. Thuis will be the third time I'm passing out of some course, despite the fact someone once said you only pass out once...
I'm frequently amazed at the places and situations in which I find myself in the military. Amazement does not necessarily connote delight of course, but in this case I find myself pleasantly surprised to be doing something I'm fairly familiar with out in the civilian world. My OC asked me to be the emcee for tomorrow's passing out ceremony this morning. This morning I was onboard ship, entereing harbour. This evening I'm sitting in front of my computer typing. I often find it... interesting to note how much difference a few hours can make in the military. In any case, I find it quite nice to be able to exercise skills one would not normally associate with uniformed personnel haha.
You know, whenever I visit my friend's blog I begin to worry at my increasing lack of introspection. All too often I find myself just being content to let the days slip by without trying to achieve something worthwhile. Or rather, I find myself hoping the days will pass by quicker so I can escape whatever unpleasant activities I have lined up for me on that particular days. There's so much time lost in the process, so much time lost doing nothing that was significant. I have become spiritually lazy. Sitting down to spend some quiet time is almost a chore. I cannot, or rather I'm too lazy, to focus on God. I think I have allowed myself to fall into this habit. After letting time just fly past me, I'm too lazy to get a grip on myself and re-focus. And all the while, the masquerade must go on, while my foundations slip. Perhaps "lack of introspection" was the wrong phrase. I know myself all too well. I'm just too lazy, and afraid, to act on it. Or should I say, to let Him act on it?
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Collective Punishment
It's not often these days when I find something noteworthy to post about, but today I feel particularly determined to discuss one of the main reasons I dislike the military. The reason I've taken so long to write about this is because I've never really formed a cogent argument about it till recently, and after this week I am determined to present my clearest exposition on regimentation. This is partly to clear my brain of all its internal agitation, and partially to correct the notion some outsiders have about the army being simply about training. "How hard could it get?" is the question that irks me the most.
There are many things that make up the Army Experience. Combat training, physical training, lack of freedom, staying away from family for extended periods of time; these are some of the few. To me though, the defining characteristic, nay, its most abhorrent characteristic I should say, is regimentation. Regimentation means discipline, means having everyone look the same, think the same things, move the same way, and otherwise behave as one man. On paper, this does not sound that bad. After all, standardisation and discipline are crucial to the success of any army. Indeed they are, and for this reason it is a necessary evil. But while I recognise the necessity, not for a moment do I lose sight of the greatness of its evil. And its evil is this: regimentation means that men are inevitably punished for the mistakes of others.
Put it this way: If I make a mistake, I do not mind being punished. The punishment is justifiable. When I say I "do not mind", it does not mean I like punishment. I hate it. What I mean is that I feel the punishment is fair, since I myself made a mistake. However, when I am punished because some people in my company made a mistake, that is when I feel great indignation. I understand the logic behind such a policy. In order for, say, 50 men to work together as a team, everyone must be made to understand that their individual actions affect the group. One of the clearest ways of conveying such a message is by punishing the whole group each time someone messes up. That way, people will be forced to work together in order to minimise individual errors.
It is a harsh policy, an unpleasant policy, but unfortunately, it seems to be the only policy that works. At the very least, it has been tried, tested and proven down through the ages. And yet, I cannot accept it. If the policy had a 100% success rate, it wouldn't be so bad, but the problem is that no matter how much punishment you mete out, there will always be the incorrigible few, and under such a policy, a few is enough to cause misery for the many. The continuous usage of collective punishment is frankly very stressful to me, and very unfair.
I cannot adequately explain to you the feeling of trying to complete your own work as best as you can, while at the same time worrying about others, because doing your best is not enough. If others screw up, you will pay for their mistakes. For 18 years, I was brought up to be accountable for my own actions. In school you were paid or punished for what you did. Other people's business remained strictly other people's business. That was the environment I grew up in.
When I entered the army I suddenly entered a world where what you did was not enough to ensure you a good life. That would depend on whether others cooperated with you. And it has proven to be a most stressful experience. It is not the training per se that bothers me. If training was all we went through I would still be upset at my situation, but less indignant about it. The problem is that I go through training and collective punishment. That increases the stress factor tremendously. It's the one thing that drags down my mood on book-in days, that brings about a black depression in my heart each time I think about camp. Yes, training, physical or combat, staying away from home, marching, all these things are tolerable, but it is the regimentation, the stifling of one's freedom and individuality, the constant fear of punishment no matter what you, THAT is what makes my life so miserable. Henceforth my friends, do not assume that my distress stems merely from training. It is the least of my worries.
That being said, I realised, as I thought about it, that collective punishment is part and parcel of life. In life the actions of others will affect you no matter what, and many a time we will have to suffer for the mistakes of others. Indeed the more I thought about it the more I realised that despite my intense dislike of the situation, it was the very same situation that drove Christ to the cross, where the faultless Lamb of God was slain for the sins of the whole world. He suffered the ultimate punishment for the mistakes of everyone else. And it is this thought that stops me in my tracks. In fact, it lightens my burden, and makes life in camp more bearable, knowing that I have a Captain who sympathises with me, who knows what I'm going through, having Himself been there and done that. It always amazes me in camp to discover the great variety of situations in which God's promise to Paul comes true, that His grace is indeed sufficient for me, because His strength is perfected in weakness. This is the answer a suffering world requires. Not an instant, miraculous deliverance, though that assuredly has been vouchsafed for the future, but rather the present, comforting assurance of a Brother in arms.
There are many things that make up the Army Experience. Combat training, physical training, lack of freedom, staying away from family for extended periods of time; these are some of the few. To me though, the defining characteristic, nay, its most abhorrent characteristic I should say, is regimentation. Regimentation means discipline, means having everyone look the same, think the same things, move the same way, and otherwise behave as one man. On paper, this does not sound that bad. After all, standardisation and discipline are crucial to the success of any army. Indeed they are, and for this reason it is a necessary evil. But while I recognise the necessity, not for a moment do I lose sight of the greatness of its evil. And its evil is this: regimentation means that men are inevitably punished for the mistakes of others.
Put it this way: If I make a mistake, I do not mind being punished. The punishment is justifiable. When I say I "do not mind", it does not mean I like punishment. I hate it. What I mean is that I feel the punishment is fair, since I myself made a mistake. However, when I am punished because some people in my company made a mistake, that is when I feel great indignation. I understand the logic behind such a policy. In order for, say, 50 men to work together as a team, everyone must be made to understand that their individual actions affect the group. One of the clearest ways of conveying such a message is by punishing the whole group each time someone messes up. That way, people will be forced to work together in order to minimise individual errors.
It is a harsh policy, an unpleasant policy, but unfortunately, it seems to be the only policy that works. At the very least, it has been tried, tested and proven down through the ages. And yet, I cannot accept it. If the policy had a 100% success rate, it wouldn't be so bad, but the problem is that no matter how much punishment you mete out, there will always be the incorrigible few, and under such a policy, a few is enough to cause misery for the many. The continuous usage of collective punishment is frankly very stressful to me, and very unfair.
I cannot adequately explain to you the feeling of trying to complete your own work as best as you can, while at the same time worrying about others, because doing your best is not enough. If others screw up, you will pay for their mistakes. For 18 years, I was brought up to be accountable for my own actions. In school you were paid or punished for what you did. Other people's business remained strictly other people's business. That was the environment I grew up in.
When I entered the army I suddenly entered a world where what you did was not enough to ensure you a good life. That would depend on whether others cooperated with you. And it has proven to be a most stressful experience. It is not the training per se that bothers me. If training was all we went through I would still be upset at my situation, but less indignant about it. The problem is that I go through training and collective punishment. That increases the stress factor tremendously. It's the one thing that drags down my mood on book-in days, that brings about a black depression in my heart each time I think about camp. Yes, training, physical or combat, staying away from home, marching, all these things are tolerable, but it is the regimentation, the stifling of one's freedom and individuality, the constant fear of punishment no matter what you, THAT is what makes my life so miserable. Henceforth my friends, do not assume that my distress stems merely from training. It is the least of my worries.
That being said, I realised, as I thought about it, that collective punishment is part and parcel of life. In life the actions of others will affect you no matter what, and many a time we will have to suffer for the mistakes of others. Indeed the more I thought about it the more I realised that despite my intense dislike of the situation, it was the very same situation that drove Christ to the cross, where the faultless Lamb of God was slain for the sins of the whole world. He suffered the ultimate punishment for the mistakes of everyone else. And it is this thought that stops me in my tracks. In fact, it lightens my burden, and makes life in camp more bearable, knowing that I have a Captain who sympathises with me, who knows what I'm going through, having Himself been there and done that. It always amazes me in camp to discover the great variety of situations in which God's promise to Paul comes true, that His grace is indeed sufficient for me, because His strength is perfected in weakness. This is the answer a suffering world requires. Not an instant, miraculous deliverance, though that assuredly has been vouchsafed for the future, but rather the present, comforting assurance of a Brother in arms.
Sunday, April 01, 2007
Smooth sailing, my foot
Ok, time for another rare post. For all those who have yet to find out, I've been posted to the navy, and no, I am not going to become some vulgar, tatooed Singaporean version of Popeye or Jack Sparrow, although, as I told Owen, this adds new meaning to my title as captain of the 2005 debating team. In reality my job is far more mundane, or at least, I hope it is. For now I think it involves mainly pushing buttons, but I haven't been assigned a specific post yet since I haven't been trained. I will not say more about my posting here because, well, if walls have ears, then the Internet has too many eyes. With regards to my feelings about my current situation, all I will say is that I hope I will be able to tolerate one month of inanity because after that, my life, from what I gather, will literally be smooth sailing. Right now, frustrated tedium would be a better term to describe it.
Moving on, I went down to ACJC yesterday to watch my new juniors debate. Thankfully they show much more potential than their immediate predecessors, and are far humbler and willing to learn. Of course if you think about it, the person who admits he has still much to learn is often the wiser person. In any case, these are diamonds in the rough who just might be able to move past the quarter finals at this year's Nationals. It remains to be seen however, what the impact the entry of polytechnic teams into the championships will have on the dynamics of the debating circle. I foresee some interesting arguments.
Anyway, those few hours spent listening to debates made me realise how much I missed being on the floor. Hopefully I'll be free enough to adjudicate in the Nationals. After all, if I can't debate, I guess judging would be the next best thing, painful though it often is...
Moving on, I went down to ACJC yesterday to watch my new juniors debate. Thankfully they show much more potential than their immediate predecessors, and are far humbler and willing to learn. Of course if you think about it, the person who admits he has still much to learn is often the wiser person. In any case, these are diamonds in the rough who just might be able to move past the quarter finals at this year's Nationals. It remains to be seen however, what the impact the entry of polytechnic teams into the championships will have on the dynamics of the debating circle. I foresee some interesting arguments.
Anyway, those few hours spent listening to debates made me realise how much I missed being on the floor. Hopefully I'll be free enough to adjudicate in the Nationals. After all, if I can't debate, I guess judging would be the next best thing, painful though it often is...
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
When a Saint goes marching in
I did not, indeed could not see this day when first I set foot on that wretched island 13 weeks ago, and yet here I am, sitting back at home typing this, after having successfully completed my BMT Graduation Parade.
I am officially a private now. I have passed out of basic military training into almost two weeks of block leave. The sequel to this is something I will not think of now, since I'll only know of my new posting next Friday. Until then, we may rejoice.
Rejoice! Rejoice! And again I say rejoice!
Right, anyway, my immediate concern is my university application. I'm pretty set on NUS, since its the only uni in Singapore with a credible Arts Fac. Why not overseas you may wonder. Well, firstly, there is the question of money. Secondly, even if money wasn't an issue, I can't bear to leave home for long. Staying on a bloody island off Singapore's shores is bad enough, what more studying on an island off Europe's shores? At the heart of the matter, I'm just too lazy to do my own laundry. And, I'm sick of communal living.
So, back to NUS. I'm currently interested in majoring in philosophy, because I'm fascinated with the subject. The philosophy class at NUS is very small yearly, but that's fine with me since students will get greater attention from the professors. Personally I would like to sit in an ivory tower for the rest of my life musing on life's imponderables, but that's impossible, so I'll settle with a philosophy major. If possible I'd like to do a double major, with Lit as the second major. Alternatively it could be history or political science. I haven't made up my mind. I'll wait for the first year when I take the introductory modules. The problem with university education, especially in the Arts, is that I find so many things I'm interested in, and yet have so little time, and energy, to do them. Ah well, one cannot have one's cake and eat it.
Ok, I'm tired. Going off now.
I am officially a private now. I have passed out of basic military training into almost two weeks of block leave. The sequel to this is something I will not think of now, since I'll only know of my new posting next Friday. Until then, we may rejoice.
Rejoice! Rejoice! And again I say rejoice!
Right, anyway, my immediate concern is my university application. I'm pretty set on NUS, since its the only uni in Singapore with a credible Arts Fac. Why not overseas you may wonder. Well, firstly, there is the question of money. Secondly, even if money wasn't an issue, I can't bear to leave home for long. Staying on a bloody island off Singapore's shores is bad enough, what more studying on an island off Europe's shores? At the heart of the matter, I'm just too lazy to do my own laundry. And, I'm sick of communal living.
So, back to NUS. I'm currently interested in majoring in philosophy, because I'm fascinated with the subject. The philosophy class at NUS is very small yearly, but that's fine with me since students will get greater attention from the professors. Personally I would like to sit in an ivory tower for the rest of my life musing on life's imponderables, but that's impossible, so I'll settle with a philosophy major. If possible I'd like to do a double major, with Lit as the second major. Alternatively it could be history or political science. I haven't made up my mind. I'll wait for the first year when I take the introductory modules. The problem with university education, especially in the Arts, is that I find so many things I'm interested in, and yet have so little time, and energy, to do them. Ah well, one cannot have one's cake and eat it.
Ok, I'm tired. Going off now.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Reader, with a word unbury him
And thus do I resurrect my blog, which has not seen a post since the last day of the A Levels. Perhaps it is fitting that as the results loom ever closer I should deliver a new post.
I find that there is surprisingly little that can be said here about my recent history. I cannot condense my army experiences into a few words here. All attempts invariably result in a patchwork of fragmented incidents and anecdotes that, while providing glimpses into that world, fail to convey the full extent of my experience. In any case, it is not an experience I wish to relive here. What I can say is that I am passing out from Tekong soon, in fact that will be in two weeks time, following which I will have two weeks of leave. At present however I am only concerned with the coming week.
The reasons for this are few and simple: This week promises to be one of the most strenuous weeks I've had in a long time. Starting from tomorrow I will have a 16km route march, and then a whole week of repetitive and tiring exercises. But the real terror lies at the end of the week, when the results are released. It is a thought that robs me of joy in many moments, because I simply cannot predict what my scores will be. When I think back on those stressful days not too long ago (and yet to me I can now barely recall them), they fill me with uncertainty. I do not know whether I wrote those essays correctly, whether they were good enough, and deep down inside of me there is a real fear that they did not meet the mark. But fear has a strange way of making me feel as though I am the only one who feels this way, that I am alone in my fear, although I know this to be untrue. In all probability the people around me fret as much as I do. They just don't show it. And yet how well I know that misery loves company. It is the reason why I get irritated when I am surrounded by happy faces in the midst of my gloom. Thankfully I've found a few friends in camp who share similar feelings. In my worst moments, the bitterness I feel usually stems from the fact that there are too many people with whom I do not connect, not that I want to, because their company is not exactly pleasurable. It therefore helps a lot to meet a familiar face here and there who understands, or whom I think understands. In any case, in most instances, the silences are enough for me. Indeed they are what I want, and do not want.
My one hope to which I cling as I face Friday is and has to be God, Whom I have found to be dearer and more faithful to my unfaithfulness than I've ever felt before as I plow through army life. It is true, after all, that in the wilderness experiences we often encounter our appalling inadequacy and then run to the source of all fullness. What a joy and comfort it is that His love is so humble it accepts even these pitiful excuses we give when we turn back. After all, how noble can we seem if we only run to Him when our ships are sinking? And yet even so, His grace is sufficient for me.
I find that there is surprisingly little that can be said here about my recent history. I cannot condense my army experiences into a few words here. All attempts invariably result in a patchwork of fragmented incidents and anecdotes that, while providing glimpses into that world, fail to convey the full extent of my experience. In any case, it is not an experience I wish to relive here. What I can say is that I am passing out from Tekong soon, in fact that will be in two weeks time, following which I will have two weeks of leave. At present however I am only concerned with the coming week.
The reasons for this are few and simple: This week promises to be one of the most strenuous weeks I've had in a long time. Starting from tomorrow I will have a 16km route march, and then a whole week of repetitive and tiring exercises. But the real terror lies at the end of the week, when the results are released. It is a thought that robs me of joy in many moments, because I simply cannot predict what my scores will be. When I think back on those stressful days not too long ago (and yet to me I can now barely recall them), they fill me with uncertainty. I do not know whether I wrote those essays correctly, whether they were good enough, and deep down inside of me there is a real fear that they did not meet the mark. But fear has a strange way of making me feel as though I am the only one who feels this way, that I am alone in my fear, although I know this to be untrue. In all probability the people around me fret as much as I do. They just don't show it. And yet how well I know that misery loves company. It is the reason why I get irritated when I am surrounded by happy faces in the midst of my gloom. Thankfully I've found a few friends in camp who share similar feelings. In my worst moments, the bitterness I feel usually stems from the fact that there are too many people with whom I do not connect, not that I want to, because their company is not exactly pleasurable. It therefore helps a lot to meet a familiar face here and there who understands, or whom I think understands. In any case, in most instances, the silences are enough for me. Indeed they are what I want, and do not want.
My one hope to which I cling as I face Friday is and has to be God, Whom I have found to be dearer and more faithful to my unfaithfulness than I've ever felt before as I plow through army life. It is true, after all, that in the wilderness experiences we often encounter our appalling inadequacy and then run to the source of all fullness. What a joy and comfort it is that His love is so humble it accepts even these pitiful excuses we give when we turn back. After all, how noble can we seem if we only run to Him when our ships are sinking? And yet even so, His grace is sufficient for me.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Omega, and Alpha
There's nothing like a walk down Orchard late in the year to stir up my Christmas spirit. But before I go any further, allow me to make the mandatory announcement everyone's been making on their blogs, and one which I now declare with unabashed delight:
IT IS OVER. IT IS ACCOMPLISHED. IT IS FINISHED.
Apart from the unexpected easiness of the paper (it was remarkably straightforward, compared to what the other papers have been. One of the comparative poems for the PC section was even one of the comparative poems that came out for our prelims!), the sheer joy of having the weight of the A Levels being lifted off my shoulders is cause enough to make me smile all day. And indeed I have been doing that mostly today. First there were charming Brazillian chefs fawning over us with assorted skewers of meat (I personally loved the lamb. It wasn't that smelly. Too bad I discovered it late into the meal), then a cruise around Vivocity, then mindless entertainment by none other than Jack Black himself (I loved Ben Stiller's cameo), topped off with another meal. By the end of the day I was so bloated I felt positively nauseous at the sight of food. All that meat at lunch went a long way towards keeping me fairly fed for the rest of the day. Oh! and I even discovered my favourite type of coffee! The Columbian Supremo, from TCC. It is, as the menu eloquently puts it, the strongest of the mild coffees.
Yes, yes, yes, so Joel was a busy boy today, indulging in a whirlwind tour of entertainment not seen since, the end of the prelims? I doubt if I even came close then. And tomorrow, we shop!
I actually had a forecast of what prom would look like this evening. I was walking down Orchard past the Meritus Mandarin around 7, and as we looked in we realised another school's prom was about to begin. Lots of teenagers milling about fashionably dressed. I liked the look of it. I think this year's setting is much better than what it could have been, the Grand Copthorne. The Christmas decorations of Orchard certainly up the glitz factor, as well as making me feel all Christmassy and nostalgic. I always feel nostalgic when I look at Christmas decor. There's this sense of warmth, and longing within me for the past, and the nagging sadness that what was can never be again, at least, not for this year. Ha, well do I remember my incessant search for a Braun Buffel wallet last year. This year, such things matter so much less. Indeed, I don't even have a gift list for Christmas. My greatest wish is to snuggle up at home, next to the tree, eating roast beef and turkey and admiring the beauty of my boned in ham all sliced up on the table (it really looked like it was straight out of a catalogue when we set it up last year. Should have taken a picture). Oh well, one cannot always get what one desires.
To tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow! May all our days be as carefree as this season!
IT IS OVER. IT IS ACCOMPLISHED. IT IS FINISHED.
Apart from the unexpected easiness of the paper (it was remarkably straightforward, compared to what the other papers have been. One of the comparative poems for the PC section was even one of the comparative poems that came out for our prelims!), the sheer joy of having the weight of the A Levels being lifted off my shoulders is cause enough to make me smile all day. And indeed I have been doing that mostly today. First there were charming Brazillian chefs fawning over us with assorted skewers of meat (I personally loved the lamb. It wasn't that smelly. Too bad I discovered it late into the meal), then a cruise around Vivocity, then mindless entertainment by none other than Jack Black himself (I loved Ben Stiller's cameo), topped off with another meal. By the end of the day I was so bloated I felt positively nauseous at the sight of food. All that meat at lunch went a long way towards keeping me fairly fed for the rest of the day. Oh! and I even discovered my favourite type of coffee! The Columbian Supremo, from TCC. It is, as the menu eloquently puts it, the strongest of the mild coffees.
Yes, yes, yes, so Joel was a busy boy today, indulging in a whirlwind tour of entertainment not seen since, the end of the prelims? I doubt if I even came close then. And tomorrow, we shop!
I actually had a forecast of what prom would look like this evening. I was walking down Orchard past the Meritus Mandarin around 7, and as we looked in we realised another school's prom was about to begin. Lots of teenagers milling about fashionably dressed. I liked the look of it. I think this year's setting is much better than what it could have been, the Grand Copthorne. The Christmas decorations of Orchard certainly up the glitz factor, as well as making me feel all Christmassy and nostalgic. I always feel nostalgic when I look at Christmas decor. There's this sense of warmth, and longing within me for the past, and the nagging sadness that what was can never be again, at least, not for this year. Ha, well do I remember my incessant search for a Braun Buffel wallet last year. This year, such things matter so much less. Indeed, I don't even have a gift list for Christmas. My greatest wish is to snuggle up at home, next to the tree, eating roast beef and turkey and admiring the beauty of my boned in ham all sliced up on the table (it really looked like it was straight out of a catalogue when we set it up last year. Should have taken a picture). Oh well, one cannot always get what one desires.
To tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow! May all our days be as carefree as this season!
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Hatred
Words cannot fully express how much I hate the army right now. I cannot even bring myself to write down here all that is running through my mind because I can only do so with such bitterness, such anger, that it can only come out with the foulest vulgarities.
My friends, I beg of you, from now till the 15th of December, please, say absolutely NOTHING at all about the army in my presence. Not a word about the SAF, not a word about NS, not a word about enlistment dates. Nothing. No institution in the world right now can foul my mood faster than it can. Please, as a friend, I am asking all of you now to never ever mention anything about it again. We can talk about absolutely any other thing under the sun, but not this, not this, please. Don't even try to console me, or I shall suspect that you do not understand. Indeed I suspect only very few people have any authority at all right now to speak to me on this matter, and the only one I know is leaving very soon, and I shall miss you dearly, old friend, when you are gone. I hope with all my heart you enjoy your stay on Langkawi.
Sometimes it is better to remain silent on a topic you don't understand than to offer words of pity that can only engender more hatred.
My friends, I beg of you, from now till the 15th of December, please, say absolutely NOTHING at all about the army in my presence. Not a word about the SAF, not a word about NS, not a word about enlistment dates. Nothing. No institution in the world right now can foul my mood faster than it can. Please, as a friend, I am asking all of you now to never ever mention anything about it again. We can talk about absolutely any other thing under the sun, but not this, not this, please. Don't even try to console me, or I shall suspect that you do not understand. Indeed I suspect only very few people have any authority at all right now to speak to me on this matter, and the only one I know is leaving very soon, and I shall miss you dearly, old friend, when you are gone. I hope with all my heart you enjoy your stay on Langkawi.
Sometimes it is better to remain silent on a topic you don't understand than to offer words of pity that can only engender more hatred.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Well! I have a new template. It's um, very boring, yes, but I can't be bothered to find anything else. I'll just stick to what Blogger has. I changed because I;ve just switched to this new Beta Blogger thingy. Now it has improved layouts and management desktops, yada yada. I've been meaning to do it for a while now, never had the time. Well, this weekend just presented an opportunity, so here it is!
Friday, November 24, 2006
The End (almost)
I must say that I didn't feel particularly exhilarated after today's paper, partly because there were so many things to do immediately after it, like sign Mr Smith's card and rush off for lunch, and partly because, as always, the thought of the S Paper still to come was foremost in my mind. You'd expect that with every passing hour as the end draws nearer I'd get more excited, but the truth is actually counter-intuitive. I find that when the A Levels started, last Monday for instance, I was more hyped up as each paper passed, because I had the feeling that the end was drawing closer, that I was completing more papers each day, that I was actually doing productive work. Then, this week, today especially for instance, just when the A's are ending, I feel more and more impatient and lethargic actually, instead of happy, because to me it seems that despite all that's been done the end is still not here. This feeling happens all the time to me actually, on journeys especially. Like when I'm coming home from school sometimes, I feel ok at the start of the journey, but as I draw closer to home I get impatient cos each step is taking so long to bring me home. Actually come to think of it, I think it's a normal feeling. Beginnings are always fresh, but ends are often stale.
Anyway, I had lunch with Mr Smith today! He kept up a running commentary during lunch as you may imagine. Most of it was about dogs. He keeps a dog, a large crossbreed between Alsatian and something else which he's not sure of. He got it from the SPCA in 2000 anyway. Oh yeah, he's going to Cairns, and his dog has to leave one month in advance cos Australia has a one month quarantine rule for all animals entering the country. To prevent rabies epidemics and all...
But the most interesting thing was this. Owen asked him what Irish sounds like. Now a lot of us think the Irish speak English, or at least a variant of it, but in reality Irish is not English at all. It's Gaellic, with it's own alphabet and writing style. In pronunciation I suppose it sounds close to Tolkien's Elvish. Anyway, his name in Irish is actually Shawn MacGowan! That's not the proper spelling, I can't remember how he spelt it. I'm just typing it out the way it sounds. The "Mac" is pronounced as "muck", not "mack" like Macdonalds. "Mack" is the English pronunciation of it. In Irish it's "muck". And, "Mac" means "son of", like "Bin" in Malay. So he's basically Shawn son of Gowan. Ah, so now we know that Ewan MacGregor is the son of Gregor. (Ok, irrelevant digression)
Ah, dear old Mr Smith. I shall miss him when he leaves.
Anyway, I had lunch with Mr Smith today! He kept up a running commentary during lunch as you may imagine. Most of it was about dogs. He keeps a dog, a large crossbreed between Alsatian and something else which he's not sure of. He got it from the SPCA in 2000 anyway. Oh yeah, he's going to Cairns, and his dog has to leave one month in advance cos Australia has a one month quarantine rule for all animals entering the country. To prevent rabies epidemics and all...
But the most interesting thing was this. Owen asked him what Irish sounds like. Now a lot of us think the Irish speak English, or at least a variant of it, but in reality Irish is not English at all. It's Gaellic, with it's own alphabet and writing style. In pronunciation I suppose it sounds close to Tolkien's Elvish. Anyway, his name in Irish is actually Shawn MacGowan! That's not the proper spelling, I can't remember how he spelt it. I'm just typing it out the way it sounds. The "Mac" is pronounced as "muck", not "mack" like Macdonalds. "Mack" is the English pronunciation of it. In Irish it's "muck". And, "Mac" means "son of", like "Bin" in Malay. So he's basically Shawn son of Gowan. Ah, so now we know that Ewan MacGregor is the son of Gregor. (Ok, irrelevant digression)
Ah, dear old Mr Smith. I shall miss him when he leaves.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
It started last Friday. First my grandmother came down with stomach flu, vomitting and all. Then late Saturday my maid had stomachaches till Sunday morning. During that night my mother got stomach flu too. And on Sunday morning my brother woke up not feeling well. It later developed into diarrhoea and vomitting.
Just as it seemed to subside (my brother's problem cleared up quickly on Monday and my maid was fine by Monday too. My mom was feeling better by yesterday night), my father caught it. He blames it on the char kway teow he ate yesterday for lunch. So now he's stuck at home with stomach flu too.
I have no idea why, but one by one all the members of my family are coming down with stomach flu-related problems. The symptoms seem to be primarily occupied with what comes out of either end of the body. Now, I am the last man standing, ha!
Just as it seemed to subside (my brother's problem cleared up quickly on Monday and my maid was fine by Monday too. My mom was feeling better by yesterday night), my father caught it. He blames it on the char kway teow he ate yesterday for lunch. So now he's stuck at home with stomach flu too.
I have no idea why, but one by one all the members of my family are coming down with stomach flu-related problems. The symptoms seem to be primarily occupied with what comes out of either end of the body. Now, I am the last man standing, ha!
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