Good, honest work

Today was a lot less boring and meaningless than other days.

We shifted like, 12 cupboards and 7 beds up and down. But it was only one storey and we had the lift and trolley to help us, except for the beds lah. But it was good physical work. So good that because of one of my friend's excellent steering of the trolley, I got my right knuckles all smashed up. Don't worry, my bones are made of titanium. I'm more worried for the other guy, he's gonna become a driver le. Ahaha...

But it was good honest work. And the talking cock in between made us better friends. And we went for our 'rejects' dinner today. At KFC. ARGHHH FAT.

I'm liking this place more and more. Since I've been chosen by the staff sergeant to be IC (he called me ang moh, so racist), I've been popping in and out of the office, which is an annoying thing because you've got to recite this standard line stating your name, IC, purpose of visiting and your asking for permission to enter sir/maam. And so all the officers and warrant officers and other office dwellers know me darn well. ARGH. I think since BMT, they've been preparing me for an office-bound job, or at least, something dealing with an office. But anyway, everyone is really friendly and so far I haven't been tekaned at all. They treat privates with a lot more decency. The only way I've been abused is when staff threatened to push his sergeant stick up my.......

I was walking back home today and somehow, I realised that all my life I've been wanting a dog. What a random thing to think. For some reason, I've always been wanting to become closer to a person who's had a dog, for the selfish reason of playing with the pooch, ever since young. HAHA. And when my mom toyed with the idea of buying one recently, I've been spending my days in BMT on Tekong wondering if that wonderful gift had been bought. No it hasn't anyway. But it's funny how such a silly little thing can get me so excited. I guess there are many childhood dreams that haven't been fulfilled yet...

Speaking of dreams, it's quite sad because I realised that the only few dreams I had for the army can never ever ever come true. They are very trivial and nonsensical dreams. One is to wear the No.1 ceremonial uniform (the pretty white one they wear during National Day Parade). The other was to do lots of parades cuz for some weird reason I feel very shiok standing for hours and doing stupid little drills to the command of one stupid person. I think I just like being watched. Or maybe, I like to be in a big performance. I always like performing in big groups, like in dramas, choirs, bands blabla. Not much of a soloist, because I know I can't shine. Anyway, I don't ever think I'll ever get to see a No.1 uniform in my life, neither will I ever have the joy of ironing my uniform and polishing the boots till I can see my teeth in them. This is really sad...

But never mind, I'm very glad for this humbling experience. It's teaching me that my dreams may always be shattered, but there's always a better and more perfect plan for me in such circumstances. And I'm learning to be thankful in all things...

So here I sign off again. From next week I'll be staying out again. This time got not many area inspections so can slack muahahahaahahhaha

And the days go on and on

Currently doing nothing constructive in my new posting.

Right now, I'm going through a very humbling process. Well, I've been going through humbling processes right through BMT. Keeps me in check I guess. Teaches me that true satisfaction comes from not getting the recognition you want but in just being a good and cheerful worker.

Due to chance and randomness, I was one of the few people the staff warned us about who would not go for the transport supervisor course, but the subsequent one. It is frustrating. It feels horrible because you just wanna finish the whole thing in one shot. But it's a blessing because while the rest are all training to become commanders, I've already begun to clock my 7,000km that'll entitle me to a civilian license. And I get to understand the culture at the roots. So it's better.

And the funny thing is how rejection can serve to bond people. The 9 of us 'rejects' (so called) clicked and are ready to go for dinner this friday. Haha!

I guess this new lifestyle is going to be a complete turnaround from BMT. For one thing, there's a possibility my fitness will suffer. Running and jogging is not allowed during the course. That's like, totally insane??? Light exercise in the gym is allowed so I can only maintain myself that way. Anyhow, I try to jog when I get home, like I did yesterday. But today I was too lazy lah. I mean from next week I'll be in confinement again. Rest lah, rite?

Hmmm, lastly, my english is evolving and I'm becoming more accomodating to Singlish all sorts of colloqualisms...I'm getting more and more fluent siaaaa...

TTW: Road to Success

I think the motto is quite cute.

Anyway, here we are, the lowest in the core of command. It's nice to hear though my SSM making fun of the combat personnel (he used to be a commando) and stressing the importance of the service and support line. The blue beret used to indicate that you were a 'second class citizen' of the army, but now more realise the absolute necessity for strong logistics. There was some story of the a US convoy getting into big fat hot water in Iraq when their logistics got lost in the desert. But I'm quite confused how they got lost in the first place....ok let's not dwell on that...

But yeah. Was quite inspired by what they said. If you don't want to be a second class citizen, but be a first, it's up to us. I'm committed to do my best. And it's good that they psycho us to say things like "Serve with Passion" though it sounds so corny because it is in these vocations one may take it to be a vacation and sizzle off. My job sounds tough as it is. The training is going to be mentally strenuous if not physically tough. I will find satisfaction no matter. The only worry now is my fitness...sitting around driving ain't too healthy...

Anyways, the commanders are all too friendly to be true. But cannot abuse their niceness. Anyways we're all going to become sergeants in the long run so we gotta start behaving more maturely. Apart from thems guys, there are muh fellow 'platoon' mates. We don't really have a platoon system here, there are only 58 of us jokers lah. But strangely, within the ranks of privates there are two staff sergeants and a first sergeant, which is weird. But then, they are students like us. One of the staff sergeants has made friends with all the privates already which is so cool. The other two are amicable chaps. I wonder if they have the power to grille our butts. Don't think so. Maybe if I scold them @#$@# you they may make me knock it down. But I won't try it out. There are a few of my Dragonians there so I feel slightly at home. Cliques forming though...

I hope I do manage to clock 7000 km. Then I don't need to get a civilian license! Woohoo!

Saw a couple PDA-ing in the bus today. It wasn't the intense kind, just the very innocent kind, which still shouldn't be done anyway. So shameless lah. But it was kinda entertaining also. Gives goose pimples. I was concentrating more on my Superman Bizarro comic. It's darn hilarious. I would have made a perfect comic writer for Bizarro, the Idiot of Steel!

The night before a new begining

So tomorrow will be my first day as a transport supervisor-in-training. I have no idea what to expect of it- heck, I've never even heard of the vocation before and I know no senior or friend who has that vocation.

But it's ok. I don't have to bring much and I think it's basically a 9 to 5 job. Unless I've got night training, like how to drive a tonner at night wahaha. But I'm guessing the next day will be off day, if that were the case.

Life is gonna be slack now, I think. Frankly I have no idea what it'll be. I'm guessing they're gonna teach me an array of vehicles, how to drive 'em, fix 'em, etc. I really hope they won't stop there....I will really miss having a rifle and ammunition around me. At least teach me how to use a handgun or some pistol. I mean if I have to transport something in the midst of war the enemy will go straight for Mr. Driver to stall supplies rite? They should at least teach how to defend myself. Anyway, I'm gonna miss the chionging life of BMT and all the rest. I can't say though, that my new life is not going to be chionging because who knows, there may be a component where they make us run after a run away or hijacked vehicle or something...and they'll test us on how to fix an engine within 5 minutes, like assembling rifle and all that. I never understood why they had to time us on that. Like in the middle of the battlefield you'll have to whip out your groundsheet and dissemble everything and lay it nicely for the sergeant to see and the enemy to laugh at you.

Ok stupid ranting. I just hope nothing goes wrong tomorrow and I don't become anyone's mortal enemy on the first day. And worse still, I hope I don't arrive late. And make a fool of myself. Or forget anything. I'll be armed with my Superman comic books in case things get boring. Somehow I feel I'll be having more canteen breaks from now on. Only time will tell.

Oh two years of our time. Won't make it a waste. I can come out and get myself a car soon! Yay.

Oh and I forgot to say. Since it's at Sembawang camp, which is like super close to where I first stayed when I came to Singapore, it will really be a walk down memory lane. Of course everything would've changed by now. Hope I can still remember everything. I may just decide to take a walk down the old buildings. Oh man just thinking about it now is making me horribly sentimental. More confused than sentimental; I can't believe how simple life was then, where it was me, mummy, little brother, daddy, my kindergarten, playground, police post (I was scared of police), food court, econ minimart, stupid road where my stupid brother dashed across while I wasn't watching and nearly got knocked down, stupid drain which my brother fell into and got cut on his forehead and had to go for stitches (my mom blamed me the whole time and then felt extremely guilty, I was just a little kid myself). Oh anyway, I recall getting stitches a year ago also. It was on the same position as my brother's stitches. That's retribution for me haha.

Well. Life can only get more beautiful. To my buddies still stuck in hellhole I mean Junior College, hang on in there and don't lose your heads! It'll be over soon, and guys will be having two year chalet while girls will be seeing hunks and getting boyfriends and everyone will be oh so happy. Due to my lack of socialising with members of the opposite sex I have extended my oath to celibacy so I can concentrate on protecting this nation. Oh what retardedness. Somehow my mom thinks I'll get a girlfriend by next year but I can't see how much of a joke and impossibility it is.

Nice way to conclude an entry.

Oh the miseries of people

I'm suddenly feeling mildly depressed for a couple of reasons.

The POP ended without much pomp and circumstance. People were more interested in getting off the island than to spend their few fleeting moments with their friends before, perhaps, never seeing them again. There were few camera flashes and few phone number exchanges. It's quite sad because I thought that the last part of POP would be just that. And I'd be able to look at all the pictures when I get home and tell myself they'll soon be good memories. But it never happened.

My buddy called up today asking me about where I'm going. He's going to signal. But we had a nice chat that I normally wouldn't have on a handphone and ended it pleasantly. I'll miss the chap.

So it seems the sentimentality is on the rise. I'll only be meeting one other person at my camp, I think. Maybe a few more Dragons, but so far only one known person from my platoon.

I guess I'll have to agree now with my mom that these are good memories that are supposed to turn foggy but not forgotten.

But then apart from these uncertain relationships, there are others that have always been certain but now stand shaky. My vow is to never forget certain people and to always keep in contact with them. Some (okay, one in particular), I've left to become another festering memory. As for someone else, I'm afraid I may have hurt that person. There has not been much communication ever since, and even if there is, a distance seems to have been created. I can't stand for this to happen, and I hope that one day something will happen where everything will come back to normal, and I can smile and be happy with that person again.

Kinda like my buddy. I liked him initially. 5 days into BMT, I began to feel bitter against him. He was insensitive, and was very brash. He even subjected me to some really hurtful criticism (which made no sense. When it's driven by irrational anger it never makes sense). But I misjudged him and he, me. Field camp and other events gave us intimate conversations where we started to understand each other and become inseparable. So much so that if someone even dared to tease me, he'll jokingly bash up that guy. He was like my security guard sia. Thus was the beautiful relationship between the eldest in the platoon, and the youngest (that would be me).

Apart from that, I feel helpless to help other people who are being bogged down by the pressures of this life. Last year I was crushed when the same person seemed surprised at my lack of self-esteem. I took to that knowledge as such because I never knew that the person (as she professed) looked up to me and respected me, and all of a sudden I realised I had been a shameful and unworthy example. The tides are turning now. Where I was given encouragement, I want to return it now. But will it help?

It was like Hong Mei. When I was at my lowest point in secondary school, one person cared to remind me of my worth and what I was capable of. If I hadn't realised that people still trusted me, I mightn't have cared anymore, and I wouldn't be the proud leader of AMB's best section. If there wasn't someone to remind me of who I and I alone was, then I wouldn't have had a change of attitude, and salvaged my own situation. I believe no one can help you. You must save yourself. But other people can provide you with that will to save yourself. That is why friends, especially good friends who keep a constant lookout for you, are essential.

I can't help you. You can only help yourself. But I will be there to remind you how you can help yourself practically in certain aspects. I will always remind you who you are and what you are capable of doing. Make known to yourself always who you are, how you are special, and what a superman you have been. Then you can help yourself. I can suffer as you suffer, but I can't take away your suffering. I can only share your joy, it's all for you to keep. But I think you like any human being would fancy joy over demise...

Well. To keep me happy I've been indulging real heavily in Superman comics! Can't believe I'm a fan. Oh, and I just discovered this Superman-a-like called Supreme. In fact, I like it better cuz strangely, the comics are a wee bit more ridiculous (fantastic) but seem to have more continuity and soppiness. It's quite humourous actually. And oh, what beats having a white-haired superhero. I love white hair. Guys with white hair are absolutely stunning, like the guy I saw while getting lost at Novena. His suit is less cumbersome than Superman's, too. And he has a talking dog and supersister as a common feature in all his stories, not like Superman, where Supergirl and Superdog (can't remember his real name) come and go here and there.

Wish I were a superhero, and I could save everyone...

Transport Supervisor

I was at the National Skin Centre wasting time because there were two idiots who were late for their appointment, thus making me suffer as a consequence. Fortunately I was armed with my Superman comic book and my MP3 player. But I couldn't ignore the longing to know what my posting was. So I told my mom to check. And she baffled me.

You are posted to SUP&TPT training centre. Your Vocation is TPT SPVR.

The army has this horrible habit of using abbreviations shamelessly. It confuses a man. I was thinking along the lines of Superman and Trumpet. With a vocation of Trumpet Superviser. But I was quite sure I had no idea how to play the trumpet, and the superman inspiration was due to my comic book. I smsed my mom asking her to enlighten me.

The grandfather was smarter. He said it was Supplies and Transport. It made perfect sense.

And my heart broke.

There were other vocations I would have preferred. A medic wouldn't have been bad. What I really really wanted was that black beret and to be able to drive a Leopard tank (I heard they're air-conditioned). But alas, the closest anyone got to that dream in my platoon was an armour scout. That sucks. I wouldn't have minded doing something at sea! Someone became a Naval Systems Operator. Imagine being at sea! And my father would've been so happy because anyway, he was a seaman.

And the stigma attached to anyone in transport. People of low qualification go there. It's a slack vocation, etc etc.

What I couldn't bear the most was my grandfather knowing it. We're talking about one of the biggest men in Indian military, more decorated than any Singaporean soldier, more experienced than any Singaporean soldier and more capable. We're talking about a man who knows war, while Singapore has been so sheltered even the generals here don't know what blood tastes like. This proud man here has had a leg blown off and still has shrapnel in his arm. His grandson wasn't even capable enough to get a lousy chocolate bar that'll just make him an exhibition piece saying "Look I'm an officer!". Not even that close. A sergeant would be an ant just as a recruit would be dust. So a transport supervisor would fall in between there somewhere.

I wasn't thinking straight. I'm going to be a transport supervisor. There'll be people under me. I will have to use my leadership and brains to instruct people and get a job done quickly. I'll be taught how to drive different vehicles, and if it works out, I won't have to bother about getting me a driving license for a car. I mean, if I can drive a 5-tonner, then a F1 racer wouldn't be a problem....

The most amazing thing was that my mom started of the sms with a congratulations. My dad smsed me not too long after with a word of congratulations too. Why in the world would they congratulate me so fervently for something that seems to others so lowly? I can't believe how much support my family has shown me. It's not like they're consoling me. They're doing it as if it's an achievement. It may baffle me, but it's amazing anyhow. I'm glad I have a family that loves me for anything I am or do. Other parents may tick their kids off for their unworthiness. That's such an Asian thing. Pride and honour. When will we learn that pride and honour come from doing what you do best...

In any case I'm determined to do my best wherver I go and I won't say no or die. I know I'll come to love my vocation in the end.

Oh and the surprising thing? My grandfather saw me in the evening, and congratulated me even more than the others. He told me what I got was a splended posting, thanks to its practicality to me in the future. Oh and he surprised me one step further. Before he met my grandmother, he was a Mechanicl Transport Officer (MTO) essentially the same thing as a transport supervisor, except an officer who taught the technicalities. So he's familiar with my scope. He thinks that it's the best I could've gotten. I can't be more relieved at his opinion..

To my friends in command school, congrats, I hope I get to drive you one day. I'll salute you if need be. Just remember to call me your friend ;)

Passing Out Parade

My POP was yesterday. And oh was it an ending worth dying for, worth those endless hours spent practicing, frying in the sun, having your eyes burn from the sweat and losing sleep at night for practice.

And my parents, as well as others, concur that the drill squad section was the best part of the whole parade. I was really glad, because this was the culmination of a dream I had 5 to 6 weeks into my army life. It was proof that I was able to carry that dream right through difficult times, times when you wished you could drop out or give up. The drill squad started out with about 50 over wannabes, some of great calibre, others just deluded. I felt the competition but persevered. Many dropped out because they weren't very enchanted with the idea of doing drills anymore, others annihilated because of their incompetency. I stayed on until the competition, and practiced hard. When the normal arms drill sessions had ceased, it meant that we had to use our coy admin time to practice. That wiped out our dreams of getting that much needed rest. It paid off when we got second place, but it meant something worse: doubling, even tripling our practice to learn how to do fancy drills from scratch, within two weeks. It was done, the parents saw it, and were impressed. It was plain euphoria that we could barely contained when we fell out after the performance.

It was all worth the gruelling practice. Never mind the fact that the bunkmates were slacking away sinfully while we practiced hard. The music of boots banging in perfect unison compensated for the unfairness. The fact that we could say we did our performance with pride. And most of all, I was glad I could make my parents proud. That was all I wanted to do. That was why I joined and didn't waiver until the end.

And the parade proper. After being scolded like mad by the Sergeant Majors for not wheeling properly, not keeping dressing, not banging loud enough, not executing the drills properly or together, for not singing loud enough, for various other mistakes. If not for their nitpicking and quest for perfection, the parade would have been in shambles. It would have looked more like a comedy of clueless crusades marching through a parade square looking like clowns with leaves on their heads. I guess I didn't mind wearing the darned Load-bearing bests and helmets because in the pictures it looks quite cool. The only hassle was that impedes rifle movement. During one of the practices, my rifle flew out while doing a rifle salute because it got snagged in my magazine pouch, but I caught it before it touched the ground (phew). No such thing happened this time, thankfully. And the best thing was that the weather was perfectly fine. Got a mild sunburn this time, but not as severe as last thursday. No one passed out during the passing out parade, too.

Talking about passing out, not many of you know what it's like to stand under a hot sun for up to an hour. I had the luxury of supporting my body with my rifle this time, fortunately. Surviving the POP is testament to the fact that your body can be weak but your mind must be strong. With sufficient mental power, you can keep yourself from blanking out. One mustn't give up and give in to their weakness. And in conclusion, I'm thankful that I've learnt this lesson in army: that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. But you must be able to swallow the pain, or suck thumb as they say. My 2.4, 24 km march, other physical sessions, parades, as well as the POP have all shown me the way, and I've become stronger, definitely. Now, I must maintain this strength and not lose my discipline to become a better (looking) man.

So this is it. I'm a graduant of BMT and a private. I can pick on recruits now, grow my hair again and get myself new boots for goodness sake (can't wait for those credits to roll in). Now I await my posting. I'm eager to know where I'm going...

Can't believe 15 weeks are gone. But there are another 90 weeks to go before I am a civilian again...sian.

POP LOH!!!

POP LOH!!!!!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

POP LOH!!!

POP LOH!!!!!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

The End is nigh...

Hello everyone.

This is the last book out.

I may never be going to Tekong again.

While many of my other friends are already resting back at home, not needing to return to Tekong unless they are posted there or go to command school, I still have a little bit more to go before I POP. And that's where the complication arises.

I got totally burnt during the rehearsal. First of all, they demand perfection for our drills. Secondly, after making us march in the hot sun like mad, while recruits dropped like flies from the heat, I still had to do my drill squad number. Twice. This was even tougher than 24km, to be honest. But it was all worth it cuz I was doing something I loved. It gets even more exciting when you nearly drop your rifle while doing a hormat senjata right in front of your drill commander. Fortunately I caught it, and fortunately, he only clicked his tongue in irritation. Well, it's the stupid magazine pouches' fault. I have no idea why they want to humiliate us on a glorious day by making us wear the vest and that ridiculous helmet with the leaf netting.

I was in extreme pain yesterday. My skin turned chilli red and it burnt. Fortunately I was wise enough to put some life-saving Vaseline (that thing saved me from abrasions during route march, too) so the magical ingredient that is petroleum jelly keeps my face nice and supple with a red glow today. And for some weird reason, my tans always seem to fade the next day. I think 4 days from POP, after resting, I'll be as white as I was before. Unless, the melanin in my skin diffuses down my skin or something, causing the difference between pale and dark skin to be less detectable. What can I say, I've got good skin...

Anyway, what is BMT to me now? It means having a whole section skyving during area cleaning, leaving me running around sweeping like a madman after having cleaned the office. It means me having to do two to three drills practices everyday. While we do drills, my pals are back at bunk doing a few things: sleeping, drinking canned drinks when we're not supposed to, talking cock or reading the newspaper. Or meditating in the toilet. Somehow, a lot of time is spent in the toilet to the point that toilet paper has become a commodity so precious, it can start wars.

My point is, a lot of people are becoming keng-sters and I don't have the luxury of being in their ranks. It has been the most tiring week for me because since Monday I've had the least amount of rest compared to everyone else. The only luxury I have is the chance to indulge in 20 minutes of power nap time after meals. This time would be spent by the rest playing with their PSPs and Nintendo DS (when will boys grow up), inevitably making my sleep a little bit less peaceful when they conglomerate and cheer each other on when having wireless football matches. Oh, and there's this new phenomenon, some Dynasty Warrior thing. The most ridiculous and blasphemous thing to the Chinese culture. As it is, it's a bit strange to see Chinese looking game characters have Chinese names but speak with an American slang. The game basically involves taking some guy and chopping lots of soldiers to bits as if you're some demi-god. How senseless is that. A baby could win that kind of game, especially with the game characters kick-ass kung fu powers. How silly. They should play more classy games, like Sonic Rivals................

However, the feeling that we could possibly never see each other again carries, obscure feelings. I will not deny I will very much like to not see a few people ever again. On the other hand, there are some very good people I will forever remember. Nothing beats male bonding. They can be friendships that'll never shatter. I will surely meet them sometime soon...

And now, my posting. Command school has been thrown out the window. That's kind of a relief. May mean I can slack. Ok fine, not slack, but keep my civilian alter-ego in check. Maybe start studying again, before my brain turns into pure pulp. Or take up driving. Learn new things. Go fly kite. Watch paint dry...

Well. Who could believe 15 weeks would fly by like this. I'm a bit sad that I may never get to see Tekong again. Girls always wonder what Tekong is like. I think many guys will agree with me that it's some kind of Resort Island. Really. It's not backward. It's not a mudhole, unless you go for field camp. Just to digress again, when you hear the word field camp, there's some jolly connotation to it. You know, like field day, field trip. Field camp is nothing too fun...especially when sandfly attacks.

Ok. Pulau Tekong...ah forget about that place. I secretly just want to get off that island and out of BMT ASAP.

Went for NUSSO concert today. The second orchestra performance I've been to. Saw Edo and Meera perform and was impressed.

Ok. I'm real tired. I'd better sleep and blog tomorrow perhaps. My command of English declines and so does my zest for blogging...

BMT 98% FINISHED!

It's true! I'm going to pass out in two weeks! And the two most harrowing events that I've been fearing for the last two weeks has come to a glorious end! Well, in summary, my drill squad got runner up for the Obese companies. The winner was, some may be horrified, Eagle company, the extreme obese batch that will call Tekong their home for another three months. But I tell you, they deserve it because they are honestly very good. But it doesn't matter we got second best, because we'll still be performing for POP! That's a dream come true for me. I remember the excitement I had when the drill squad team was being formed and I really wanted to win and perform for my loved ones so they could be proud of me. Well, it's accomplished. Apart from that, the dreaded 24km is complete. I did relatively well, considering that it was on the same day of my competition. Imagine being tired and cramped after the first two km, with 22 more to go. But I survived and managed to push my friends too. It was sad that many had to drop out, meaning they'd have to redo it. That's gotta suck...

Hey I shouldn't be so happy because a lot of my friends who enlisted after me, go back home next week. How that sucks...

I'm really glad that BMT is over. But I'm more glad that I went through BMT. It's not the ending that gladdens me but the being in it. I've learnt a lot, and regained a lot of my esteem. At the same time, I've learnt that it's important to do your best and help others instead of striving for prestige, honour and recognition. You may be the best even though you're not recognised. Some say they expected me to be platoon best, although I admit my IPPT failure doesn't warrant me anything so worthy (oh, not to mention my little crime...). The platoon best really deserves his award. I respect him very much. But I realised that the words of my friends is encouraging enough. I don't have to come up to the front of the company and receive claps and applause. What matters is that I've made the difference in certain people's lives...

On to more dark topics. It is true that supernatural activity is rife on Tekong. Within this week itself, three things have happened in the bunk. Two incidents, I had the honour of being involved in. If you want to know what happened, the first time, dogs started collecting at my basketball court and howling in despair. A weird high pitched sound emanated from there. Some theorise it's Pontianak, I rationalised it as being a scared cat. But there are hardly any cats on Tekong. A while later I started having weird images in my head, and then I started getting jabs from some invisible character. It poked me in the closed eyes, and all over my body. I couldn't see it at all. It annoyed me, and I was also gripped by heartwrenching fear a few times. The next day, a mate of mine woke up feeling some unwanted presence inside, and saw a dark figure patrolling my side of the bunk, and stopped in between bed 4 and 5 (I'm bed 3). Bed 4 claimed he woke up and turned around, and saw a dark figure practically fly away from his position. He ducked under his cover in fear haha. I had a similar experience two nights ago, except when I looked over my bed, I saw pitch blackness, like that half of the room had disappeared. I thought I'd show the thing a bit of my displeasure and prompt him to leave me alone by making some grumbling and grunting noises while lying down. To my surprise, 'it' replied with the same grunts and grumbles I used. It paralysed my mind for a moment and a second later I woke up fully conscious and realised everything was normal. Strangely, the whole orientation of the room was changed when I woke up. I think I might've been sleeptalking...

The funny thing is that when these things happen, and when it's over, you're inclined to think that they're just dreams: your imagination gone wild. But the fact that I've been hearing a lot of stories involving a inhumanly tall dark figure visiting bunks at night makes one thing there's really something out there. I do believe in supernatural beings and I believe that that thing is creating fear and panic. Fortunately most of us aren't very disturbed and wake up and talk about it as if it was funny. BUT I NEED THE DARNED 7 HOURS OF UNINTERRUPTED SLEEP FOR GOODNESS SAKE! Especially since I've been running on a short fuse lately.

Well, Tekong life is ending. Very soon, my future awaits me. I went to NUS today. Somehow felt like I didn't want to go back to school. Now am very tired. I want to sleep...argh good night

Thank you everyone

It's only God's blessings I got my satisfactory grades of As for Bio Chem and Maths, but a D for history. It's probably because as usual I neglected it. Chem S was a U, but nevermind, I'm undeterred. I got an A2 for GP which is already very good, although I really wanted an A1. But like I said I'm very thankful.

The most amusing thing is that I just only realised I got a distinction for my Malay Orals. HAHAHAHA!! Anyway it's also pleasing because I learn a language to converse and not to wow people with my extra-literary flair...I will confine it only to English and any other language I deem necessary for now haha...

I'm also thankful to all those who've been encouraging me and cheering me on, like Huifen etc. Never in my two years in NJC had I known I made such an impact on you people. I've always been in this slump of a self-esteem. I feel like I can do great things now, most of all for the betterment of society and for His plans...

I've been thinking very hard about what I want to do in university, thinking about what scholarship I may try to take up to complement my studies and give me more opportunities at work. What is the noblest thing to do? I've been thinking a lot and two things still jab me...army or teaching. Erm, I'll settle with teaching haha...

I'm trying to go for a MOE teaching scholarship but I'm such a greenhorn I've no idea what to do. Time is running out but I'll do my best. I know I can do it. Considering all the things I've managed to accomplish not out of my own strength as of late, plus all your good words, I am confident of achieving my dreams.

Now, back to Tekong. I've got more barriers to break down. I don't know about IPPT; failing it gives me a better chance of getting into the band. I need to survive the 24 click march thought. Considering how much fun the 16click was, I can do the 24. I just need to sing more songs and lead more songs. It's all mental. But I will survive; I'm having fun doing so...

SAF bands

I went for the auditions and did quite well. It feels quite good to play after so long. There were many people whom I recognised in that stuffy room, and met ol' faces like Eng Hong, Ching Tong, Ashley, other guys like Jgan Daryl and whoever else. There were about 8 other flautists there. They are all very good. So competition is very intense. It doesn't matter.

I did my best and I have no regrets.

Only diff is that my audition didn't go as badly as William Hung's...hahaha

So there...that's my first audition. I'm hoping it wouldn't be my last. Only the future will decide...

Emo toxicosis

I woke up at 0430 hours (Army term for 4.30am) feeling extremely groggy. After the twenty minute interim I give myself before I clamber out of bed, I suddenly felt this surge of inexplicable excitement. I felt like dancing around the bunk, in the toilet (where urinal 2 was flooding again oh and I helped change the bucket that was overflowing from collecting the waste water) and back into the bunk where I polished my boots with instant shine (that's cheating) and made my bed. I sang. I pranced. I had no idea why. Perhaps the results were coming out. But why would that be a reason to be in such a celebrious mood? A dosage of adrenaline had unnecesarily been shot into my bloodstream, causing my heart to race, but not with fear. What was it? Maybe that I'd see her again after three months? Or...

But obviously my body took to the excitement prematurely, and soon my body was disillusioned. It finally realised it's true exhaustion, and breakfast was a trudgery while area cleaning was a bore. The book out was assured though and soon it was back on the mainland. But I was confused as to why people were finding me PMS-y. True, I had suddenly become unnaturally irritable, but I didn't know that people found me overboard.

Came back home. Slept for one hour. It is a privelege to be able to sleep, almost a unique oddity, considering the fact that many others failed to sleep well thinking about what would happen the proceeding day when the slip of fate would be issued them. Why this calmness, yet excitement? It was weird. Oh, did I mention the sleepiness?

The sleep did me good. I woke up, bathed, changed, missed a bus, caught a bus, got off the bus and came back to the institution I dreaded for two years. Yes, it was the place where I experienced love, hate, stress, fear, pain, extreme pain (think of cutting your forehead on a wire), resentment, jealousy, pressure, but very low self-esteem. In the army, though but through milder pressure, I realised that my body could do things I never knew it could. It gave me confidence. I gained rapport with my peers and earned their respect in certain ways. I tried my best to do my best and many times I came out confidently. I realised I could overcome. But why not earlier, while still in school?

But here I was. I saw old faces. I saw new faces: old faces that had undergone radical transformations. Girls had naturally dolled themselves, guys obviously lost their hair or made their hair grow wild. Boys will be boys. It was time. I got my results. I saw the people get theirs. Everyone was happy. Some were sad. It was a very jubilant day.

There was something utterly wrong. There were faces I longed to see but didn't. I searched for him. I searched with indescribably intensity. Shall I attempt to describe it? Well, here goes. I scanned the whole hall, asking people if they had seen him. Where was he? Naturally he'd be with his class. Checked. Not there. No one knew where he was. Strange. The canteen? He didn't really like eating, unlike me. Oh, it was so obvious. The toilet. How foolish my conclusion was to be proven...

There was something else bothering me. To be precise, someone bothering me. I did not see her. I heard news of her though. So it was true. And he was cute. His name was not known. I was glad. The only way to completely let loose of her was to respect their affiliation to each other. I don't mess around. I'm glad I'm wired up properly.

I was glad. People said I looked better. Thank you BMT! I spoke with my male classmates about BMT. They had amazing stories to tell. I had mine to tell too. The ladies were clueless as to what BCCT, Field Camp, M16, SPG, etc were all about. Explaining wasn't very helpful. We were more interested in telling each other our war stories. We talked about our commanders.

I love my commanders. They're warrant officers. I have a slight grudge against officers. Someone said that they make recruits feel like crap. I might be inclined to agree. Warrant officers are called welfare officers sometimes. They're prided for their many years of experience though. You feel like your grandfather is taking care of you, not some older brother from hell. That's how I view some of the officers who strut down the aisles sometimes. I despise youth. I despise the impulsive, irrational and brash lives we live.

Speaking of which, I hadn't gotten over my PMS. My PS told me he signed on because he was enlightened. He realised there was too much to lose. He wanted to protect and guard all he held dear. I was thinking to myself. The trip to the Discovery Centre made me think too. So did the stroll down Orchard Road. The lunch at McDonald's. What happened if you woke up one day and Orchard Road, the consumer's paradise, was reduced to rubble? What if McDonald's was the past and starvation was the present? What if you saw your loved ones smothered in their own blood, life slipping away from them by the second? What if you saw them die? Somehow, all these things were getting into my head.

Someone touched a raw nerve. I became impulsive and did something I never imagined I did. It ended with regret. I loved that person very much and I still did that stupid thing. I was angry that the person did not see it my way that there are more precious things in life than grades. Why did I bark back? Am I not a mature adolescent, reaching the end of my teenagehood, now at the threshold of adulthood? I was bitter that they made me redo something I resisted doing. I was satisfied with a D7. Why did they force me to retake it against my will? Why did they not see it my way? Perhaps in life, you don't expect people to see things your way. You're being selfish. I've learnt that now. It's time to grow up some more.

Well, in the afternoon, I had a talk with my mom. In the morning, I had similar feelings of humility. Last night, I decided I should respect people and stop drilling them for answers when they get worked up, even when they're in the wrong and accountable for their folly. I thought I knew something new about humility. I thought I'd grown up. Why did I do something so childish? It's biting me. I asked for forgiveness and I have faith I have found favour.

Tomorrow will be a harrowing day. It will be my auditions for the SAF band. I was told to go for it, although I was hoping it would be my safety net in the military. I am not confident I will do well because it has been so long. But I decided to take a look at my past and listen to Etude recordings. Good recordings. I was surprised at my sound. But I may not sound like that in a long time. Was I for the band, or has my predicted 'end-of-the-musical-road' finally reached? I want to protect my country. I want to play music. They conflict. One seems more noble than the other. What will my grandfather think?

I've been very confused these last few days. Am I not old enough to make my own decisions? Then why is it becoming more difficult to make choices? I see these gadgets. To me they're toys. I lust for them. I make my own money. I have enough money. But it's sinful to own them. I can do many more things than play stupid computer games. Like reading books? Expanding my mental horizons. There's a world out there beyond Tekong that I long to see. I want to go to Armenia one day and cry like they did for the blood that was spilt along the dust roads and rivers. I want to see France and visit one of the proudest civilisations in the world. What could Sonic the hedgehog possibly show me?

Oh no, my life lays before me. What will I do? More choices. Science? Too rigid. Humanities? My history is proof that I cannot make it. Journalism? Writing is fun but I can't do it well. Music? Fullstop, I'm incompetent. Join the army? I can do 0.8 chin ups according to my OC. How in the world will I be able to save you people if I can't save myself? Medicine? They say it's a noble job to save lives. Do you know what it's like to fail to save lives? The trauma of telling your patients they won't make it? Law? Is there justice in the world anymore? Dentistry? I haven't been to the dentist in 2 years, but please don't tell anymore people about that. I do invest heavily in Listerine, though. Where will I study? My friends are trying to psycho me to go to UK. Somehow, there's a better place out there. Or maybe even here.

It's been a week of emotional flurry. Ironically, the 16km march wasn't painful at all. It's the simple things in life we take for granted that can affect one's mind so much sometimes...