1. ns. having less time for youself and all. makes you either want to spend all your remaining time at home with family, or out exploring the real world. (bloody cny season, had guard duty on day 2!!!!) thank goodness i'm happy with my present vocation.
2. the anticipation. of life after ns. i got everything planned out, you know!
3. food. vivocity restaurants (good). holland v laksa (good). the cookhouse food (bad). and the resulting bulges in my thighs and stomach, thanks to the fried food i eat everyday.
4. people. all my ex-es (jc friends and teachers) more specifically, mep and chorale buddies i love you all! i wish i could see my jc classmates for a nice, tenseless chit chat, though. can i please relive those memories...
5. more people. the people i see in camp. the bastards (certain platoon mates and colleagues) and the good ones (certain platoon mates, colleagues and my 04/07 Z/plt3!!!). you're nonetheless unforgettable :)
6. MUSIC. i still love utada hikaru (somebody buy me her 1st three albums and a large poster of her please). i also like angela aki, shiina ringo, ken hirai, fir, jj lin, jay chou, fergie, corrinne may, rachael yamagata(!) etc. i miss classical music. and so i watched quite a number of classical music concerts.
7. university plans. psc/hdb/ura/bca scholarships. andrew chin of psc. my a level results. my nus archi + usp application process.
8. more ns. 2 + 5 months of training to be a 3sg. days in bmtc, sispec bslc and aslc. the occasional night out, an odd feeling. finally earned the rank after countless attempts on the soc. the field camps and overseas exercise (the navigation one was rather memorable and fun). TAIPEI CITY.
9. clothes. i'm gearing towards a wardrobe revamp. how trivial this memory is, haiz.
10. fearing for the future. already my school knowledge is leaking out. of what use is my knowledge of organic chemistry?? i realise ib is less rigorous but way more enriching. so i became smarter at the expense of having less knowledge.
(need to rethink my selections)
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 13, 2007
memoir
the boys learnt of the imminent, as early as a year ago. that year, they had time to mull over their future, and maybe take action for (or against) it. but, no amount of preparation can take away their apprehension for what was to come.
the surrender of their two years to their country. for those two years, they will be reined by the inescapable arms of the constitution, compelled to submit, unwillingly for most.
and then the two years began, with their entry into an island even smaller than the mainland. all food and accommodation paid for nine whole weeks. they'd rather pay to be elsewhere, of course.
the boys did not know what to expect. fearing, perhaps even loathing, everything: the people, the system, the new life.
three weeks. confined within the recesses of a clearing within thick, untouched jungle. in only three weeks, they experienced the toughest transition in their lives.
some were high fliers in the academic and working realm. some experienced the pleasurable life, complete with a mane, clothes to go with and girls to top it all off. some were happily holing themselves at home, cemented in front of the computer or encircled by mountains of books, a la hermits. whatever their background, they were the same as soon as they underwent the symbolic haircut. the last time most had such a hairdo was when they were infants. gone were their flashy clothes, they either wore spartan shirts and folded their socks like schoolkids do in elementary school, or green spotted outfits that could fade into the jungle which surrounded their surrogate homes.
every day, they were under the watch of superiors, who would physically punish them for any misbehaviour, however trivial it may be. the strictness of it all was unparalleled by anything else they had encountered.
with an aching in their muscles and heart alike, many confided in their loved ones, who were living across the straits or overseas, covertly over the phone, which was the only means of reaching out to the world outside.
what was to become of them in the following weeks on the island, they thought? much less how to survive two years. why are they here, in this god forsaken place. why.
everything they did was challenging. receiving and carrying out demands from the superiors, executing commands to manoeuvre the marching group, waking up and gathering before the sun even takes a peek at them.
especially arduous was their six-day jungle experience. six days spent crawling, running, sleeping (and alternate leg thrust-ing) on mud and plants is no doubt a distasteful experience for the boys who were accustomed to being pampered with a luxurious car to be chauffeured in by day and a large soft mattress and air-conditioning by night. many shed tears, some belched.
fortunately, the boys were entitled to return to their rightful place in the mainland every weekend. the precious weekend was spent mostly on healing and rejuvenating the wounded, tired soul, be it in the company of their newfound comrades or their beloved family and soulmate.
the weekly cycle carried on for nine weeks. and finally it was time. the final trip out of the island. their parents watched them with pride as they marched smartly in the parade.
they somehow did it. the boys became warrior men. they will remember those days of their lives, their infancy in the organisation we call the army.
remembering the spartan warriors of 04/07 batch, zulu company platoon three.
***
to my platoon: thanks for the experiences we shared together. it is especially heartening to know that i have changed some of you, or made your bmt experience much more bearable. and it's touching to unbashedly introduce me to your parents during graduation parade (sorry boxun for excusing myself immediately after the introduction, was helping 2IC with something then) or repeatedly proclaiming i'm your favourite sergeant. you guys make me feel i achieved more than my worth :) geez.
anyway, you people have been more than mere recruits to me from the start, seriously. maybe i treat all of you too civically, but each of you are a person, a human being, after all. and i'll try to act upon your appraisals and improve myself as a commander :)) all the best to your future, whichever path you take. it's alright if you forget me, but do honour yourself, family and friends in whatever you do.
the surrender of their two years to their country. for those two years, they will be reined by the inescapable arms of the constitution, compelled to submit, unwillingly for most.
and then the two years began, with their entry into an island even smaller than the mainland. all food and accommodation paid for nine whole weeks. they'd rather pay to be elsewhere, of course.
the boys did not know what to expect. fearing, perhaps even loathing, everything: the people, the system, the new life.
three weeks. confined within the recesses of a clearing within thick, untouched jungle. in only three weeks, they experienced the toughest transition in their lives.
some were high fliers in the academic and working realm. some experienced the pleasurable life, complete with a mane, clothes to go with and girls to top it all off. some were happily holing themselves at home, cemented in front of the computer or encircled by mountains of books, a la hermits. whatever their background, they were the same as soon as they underwent the symbolic haircut. the last time most had such a hairdo was when they were infants. gone were their flashy clothes, they either wore spartan shirts and folded their socks like schoolkids do in elementary school, or green spotted outfits that could fade into the jungle which surrounded their surrogate homes.
every day, they were under the watch of superiors, who would physically punish them for any misbehaviour, however trivial it may be. the strictness of it all was unparalleled by anything else they had encountered.
with an aching in their muscles and heart alike, many confided in their loved ones, who were living across the straits or overseas, covertly over the phone, which was the only means of reaching out to the world outside.
what was to become of them in the following weeks on the island, they thought? much less how to survive two years. why are they here, in this god forsaken place. why.
everything they did was challenging. receiving and carrying out demands from the superiors, executing commands to manoeuvre the marching group, waking up and gathering before the sun even takes a peek at them.
especially arduous was their six-day jungle experience. six days spent crawling, running, sleeping (and alternate leg thrust-ing) on mud and plants is no doubt a distasteful experience for the boys who were accustomed to being pampered with a luxurious car to be chauffeured in by day and a large soft mattress and air-conditioning by night. many shed tears, some belched.
fortunately, the boys were entitled to return to their rightful place in the mainland every weekend. the precious weekend was spent mostly on healing and rejuvenating the wounded, tired soul, be it in the company of their newfound comrades or their beloved family and soulmate.
the weekly cycle carried on for nine weeks. and finally it was time. the final trip out of the island. their parents watched them with pride as they marched smartly in the parade.
they somehow did it. the boys became warrior men. they will remember those days of their lives, their infancy in the organisation we call the army.
remembering the spartan warriors of 04/07 batch, zulu company platoon three.
***
to my platoon: thanks for the experiences we shared together. it is especially heartening to know that i have changed some of you, or made your bmt experience much more bearable. and it's touching to unbashedly introduce me to your parents during graduation parade (sorry boxun for excusing myself immediately after the introduction, was helping 2IC with something then) or repeatedly proclaiming i'm your favourite sergeant. you guys make me feel i achieved more than my worth :) geez.
anyway, you people have been more than mere recruits to me from the start, seriously. maybe i treat all of you too civically, but each of you are a person, a human being, after all. and i'll try to act upon your appraisals and improve myself as a commander :)) all the best to your future, whichever path you take. it's alright if you forget me, but do honour yourself, family and friends in whatever you do.
Friday, December 07, 2007
100th post
a trivial and meaningless title, but i shall perform the traditions of honouring the 100th post as a milestone in this blog's history, just because so.
anyway i'm waiting to be fetched to the movies with my soon-to-be-private soldiers. and today, the coy was spurred on, like, awesomely, totally, radically, by my 2IC's discursion about an unwilling NSF's suggestion letter which is a lame excuse for an emotionally-charged immature rant about NS.
parts of the letter rephrased:
"...we have nsfs who enter command school so that they can screw recruits under their charge..."
"...we have the ferris wheel and the shiniest durian (esplanade) and don't-know-how-many soldiers who can't defend singapore against a superpower nation..."
"...ns wastes talents [perhaps such as the author?]. that's why we are facing brain drain..."
to the recruit: you're just bitter that you have to do what everyone else has to go through. someone has to do it, and if you expect somebody to defend you, it's morally fair you should do your part too. ya duh, not everyone is most talented in military-related areas, but who's to look after your apartment, car, orchard road and your dad and mom?
laughable, the mind of such people.
in other words, now i feel absolutely sorry for myself for not putting in proper effort into what i really would like to do in my life, not to mention my dilemna of my choice of career was thrown into the spotlight once again. gah.
ali ord leh. i jealous. not that ns is a waste of time (anymore). just want freedom.
anyway i'm waiting to be fetched to the movies with my soon-to-be-private soldiers. and today, the coy was spurred on, like, awesomely, totally, radically, by my 2IC's discursion about an unwilling NSF's suggestion letter which is a lame excuse for an emotionally-charged immature rant about NS.
parts of the letter rephrased:
"...we have nsfs who enter command school so that they can screw recruits under their charge..."
"...we have the ferris wheel and the shiniest durian (esplanade) and don't-know-how-many soldiers who can't defend singapore against a superpower nation..."
"...ns wastes talents [perhaps such as the author?]. that's why we are facing brain drain..."
to the recruit: you're just bitter that you have to do what everyone else has to go through. someone has to do it, and if you expect somebody to defend you, it's morally fair you should do your part too. ya duh, not everyone is most talented in military-related areas, but who's to look after your apartment, car, orchard road and your dad and mom?
laughable, the mind of such people.
in other words, now i feel absolutely sorry for myself for not putting in proper effort into what i really would like to do in my life, not to mention my dilemna of my choice of career was thrown into the spotlight once again. gah.
ali ord leh. i jealous. not that ns is a waste of time (anymore). just want freedom.
Saturday, December 01, 2007
of perfect pitchers and long lost suspected romances
had fun and casual conversations with my ex-teacher and classmates from jc today.
i related to them how my recruits got so fascinated with my sense of perfect pitch.
*strikes a random note on the guitar*
"F"
*strikes again*
"B flat"
*amazed look on recruits' faces*
tee hee!
"sergeant can you recognise chords?!"
"yes"
*strums a chord*
"F# minor"
sergeant = god-like.
oh, and i baked (rather, froze) a cheesecake for the little gathering :) picture's somewhere in my camera, will upload soon. it received decent reviews.
!!_!!
(^ .^) a happy bunny. inspired by hikki's blog posts :$
|> <|
O__O
i related to them how my recruits got so fascinated with my sense of perfect pitch.
*strikes a random note on the guitar*
"F"
*strikes again*
"B flat"
*amazed look on recruits' faces*
tee hee!
"sergeant can you recognise chords?!"
"yes"
*strums a chord*
"F# minor"
sergeant = god-like.
oh, and i baked (rather, froze) a cheesecake for the little gathering :) picture's somewhere in my camera, will upload soon. it received decent reviews.
!!_!!
(^ .^) a happy bunny. inspired by hikki's blog posts :$
|> <|
O__O
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