Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori

So much has been said about the unfortunate death of the two servicemen recently, namely Second Lieutenant Clifford Lam and Recruit Andrew Cheah. It is hence of little wonder that certain people have questioned the lopsided media coverage given to the posthumously commissioned officer although both are accorded full military burial, entitled to serviceman who died while on duty or training.

But why? One sensible reasoning offered by the public attributes the amount of coverage to the reluctance of Recruit Andrew's family in appearing on the media. However, in most bereavement cases regarding deaths which are already well-published in the media, it is unlikely that the media would tone down in its coverage of the event as a sign of respect to the family. Would it make sense for Lieutenant Clifford's family be more receptive to the media as opposed to Recruit Andrew's? Clearly, it is likely that the degree of coverage was a choice dictated by the media.

Perhaps it might seem sinister, but a better reasoning would be that the circumstances surrouding the death of Lieutenant Clifford is more favourable to that of Recruit Andrew, at least in journalistic sense. In the latter's case, the recruit was enlisted merely five days into the army, and it is hence likely for the family to be less forgiving to the State. The sister of the late Recruit Andrew was quoted in The Straits Times for her demand of an explanation from MINDEF; the explanation might have already been offered to the family, but is hitherto not provided to the general public for certain reasons. Extensive media coverage would hence likely leave MINDEF and the State at wits' end, from already a difficult spot.

As opposed to Recruit Andrew, the military funeral of Lieutenant Clifford is definitely more suitable for reporting. Here was a soldier who had dreamt of obtaining his pilot wings at the age of fourteen, who was suspsected to have passed away because he worked a little too hard to achieve his unwavering ambition, and who was eventually glorified with what he had sought for, albeit posthumously. If I were the State, I would obviously make use of this opportune moment to repair the damage that was already dealt, and inject a bit of public education simultaneously. Of course his death was highly unfortunate, but given the glorification, is it not sweet and fitting to die for the country? My fellow Singaporeans - if Lieutenant Clifford was willing to lay down his life for the country, why should we not play our part in serving the country through National Service? In truth, dying for the State is only sacred because the State says so, for every State would require peopel to die for it for its greater survival.

Most army friends I have are surprised that given my cynical attitude towards army, I have expressed that I am willing to die for the country if the need arises. I am a soldier, I have taken the SAF pledge and it is my duty to defend the country; that much I must agree. But let me ask the Wilfred Owen's question again - is it really sweet and fitting to die for the country?

Yesterday

Yesterday when I was flipping through my possesions I chanced upon items reminiscence of past angst, several of which painted imageries of my previous self vividly. And even though I loathed evaluation of that particular self, there were memories that unwittingly penetrated through my mind, and perhaps helplessly, I had to tell myself that oh my god I looked dumb and committed many foolish things in the past. It is reproach with the benefit of hindsight and that process might have been harsh, but at least there is a scant consolation - I have matured.

Yesterday I looked at mementos of past relationships and I realised the evanescence of several friendships but appreciate the longevity of the others. And hence, heartless it might seem to be, I discard several surviving relics to relationships I once had because they are of no relevance to my life anymore. To decide on the fate of each relic was an agonizing decision, and there were many of which I ultimately decided to retain. I think that lingering in retrospection is so melancholic; if memories were painful they still bear a scar that bleeds occasionally, and on the other hand, if memories were sweet one invariably mourns about moving on and leaving behind. And I might still be wrong.

Yesterday I spoke to a friend whom I have cleared for national service many days ago, and once upon a time he told himself that he will be liberated and free and happy on the very day he completed NS. Gradually he discovered there is not much of the above. And he has a point. In life, many a times we wait for an event the significance which we overestimate, and only when we eventually complete the wait do we realise that we have wasted our lives away waiting. This is such a tragedy, because there is no better time than now.

On Duty

271 words

Speedtest

Am on duty and am superbly bored now. Haha. Try beating that typing speed.

Best Soldier of the Month

Last Thursday I was awarded the Best Soldier for the Month of January.

Given my attitude towards army which I have not attempted to conceal at all, it is quite bizzare that I was considered for this award at all. Moreover, the award was backdated to the month of January, when I was the most disillusioned about the functionings of our unit.

Moreover, I was apparantly nominated by Admin Officer, whom I swear I am tempted more than once to whack him really hard. He seriously reminds me of the pointed-hair boss in Dilbert Comics. The reason provided for the award was for my invaluable contribution to the improvement of the results of the HR Audit.

What had never failed to amaze me was the fact that I had survived on only three phrases in my conversation with my officer for the whole month of January. The three phrases go like this: "Yes sir!", "No sir!" and "Thank you sir". You could imagine a typical conversation between me and him going like this.

*knocks on the door*
Me: Sir. (passing him a bunch of documents)
Him: What is it?
Me: (stares at him because it is a fucking retarded question)
Him: This is the leave record card for my endorsement?
Me: Yes sir.
Him: (signs and returns me the document)
Him: You look quite tired today.
Me: No sir.
Him: I have some work for you. Can you complete it by today?
Me: Yes sir.
Him: Okay now get back to your work.
Me: Thank you sir.

These three phrases, although seemingly mechanical, embodies the essence of what a SAF soldier in a technological-savvy 3G Army is meant to be. The 3G Army, also known as the 3rd Generation Army, is what our dearest PM Lee and our Cabinet Ministers and all the other generals have been talking so much about. It will be a force to be reckoned with. Basically, all soldiers are expected to be dumber than computers and execute any orders from their superiors without questions. This was how I behaved throughout since January after becoming convinced that my superiors are spazz no matter how much I reason with them. Hence I might as well just follow orders.

Ladies and Gentlemen, presenting to you the Best Soldier of the Month.

birthday wish

It has been a delibrately long time since i have last blogged, because what else can be so consequential following my last post? And hence to terminate this recess with the topic of my birthday wish this year seems to be so irrelevant, but I would feel, a melancholic necessity.

A single event last week, the demise of my grandmother, was probably the inspiration of this wish. On what seemed like ages ago they said that she would probably survive for long if she managed to drag past the cold wintry months of the chinese calender, and hope did i had, but sometimes life has to be life.

There were many issues with regards to her death, to which I cant comment on. One pressing question has to be answered though - why not? Because i believed there should always be faith and hope and prayer that one day ah mah would recover and walk and talk like how she used to no matter how ill she was, and unfortunately that wasnt the case.

A friend reminded me, no doubt, that this time it was a different extent of sadness. But the surrounding air is dark nonetheless and then I read about the passing away of the five canoist. God bless them!

There has been a death too many and so for this birthday which falls on the wintry months i wish, perhaps naively, let there be none of these passing over for many times to come.

Happy birthday to me?

dead letter

it has been more than a month since your death - has life been so much merrier in heaven? initially i have decided to write because there are so much more which were left unsaid, but then i figured upon penning that sometimes things cant and dont necessarily have to be expressed.

things have been much finer than expected at home so dont worry. everyone seemed to be coping well so far...although that might be possibly so because we dont talk much about you anyway. i fear that you might quite easily fade away someday, for after all i havent been seeing you much lately. but i think that might make the process of missing even purer, because missing in terms of physical presence is merely a matter of getting used to being without you, but there is so much more to missing than physically.

i really hope that you havent left...although given the circumstances i understand that you really have to. despite what had ever happened before i still think you are a responsible man and a great father. mum used to say i take after you, and in certain personality aspects i think i do, but in the more admirable ones i think i still fall far short of. i could, for instance, never imagined myself to be as courageous as you.

sometimes i hope that you are really just hiding behind a thin veil of cloth and witnessing everything, because the idea that we will never see you again is depressing, but the reverse is even more so because there will be a lot you are going to miss out on. the idea that you will no longer be witnessing my graduation, my marriage etc. there was still hope but there no longer is. nevertheless, i'm sure your spirit will always been with us, like how it has been so far.

a long time ago when you left you made me promised to take care of the household. now that you have left again - i promise i will.

that's all i think i have for you. rest in peace.

---

dead letter
n.
1. An unclaimed or undelivered letter that after a period of time is destroyed or returned to the sender by the postal service.
2. A law, directive, or factor still formally in effect but no longer valid or enforced.


"Death must be so beautiful. To lie in the soft brown earth, with the grasses waving above one's head, and listen to silence. To have no yesterday, and no to-morrow. To forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace."
- Oscar Wilde, The Canterville Ghost


"I meant to write about death, only life came breaking in as usual."
-V. Woolf

coincidences

Looking at the watch and seeing it is exactly midnight.

Thinking of a person while walking on the street and suddenly bumping into him.

Seeing a fortune teller and subsequently living a life as was predicted.

Coincidences are defined as the accidental occurance of several events or ideas at the same time. Coincidences are pretty much random and they can come in all forms - the breathtaking ones, the meaningful ones, the lifechanging ones and the melancholic ones.

People want to believe in coincidences because simplicity is such a delicate idiosyncrasy of life. To sum up life as a colossal coincidence will be to say that life is of such resplendance. Afterall da Vinci, a man so abstracted, said that simplicity is the ultimate sophiscation.

However sometimes there are so many coincidences in life and such is the significance of several of these coincidences that one no longer wants to believe that coincidences are a matter of mere coincidences anymore. A mere observer might have attributed the events as a happenstance, but even the most rational of participants might be too obsessed in proving the link in a supposed coincidence due to irrationality.

And this process gives rise to the term synchronicity, defined as the occurance of events in a meaningful manner. According to expert psychologist Carl Jung, synchronicity is a natural result of the interaction between the two elements - consciousness and the outer environment, without any of which the term would have been meaningless. It is you who are analyzing the synchronicity after all; nothing happens by itself.

But whether one subscribes to synchronicity or coincidence, one will soon realise that one can only rely too much on coincidence. At times it is possible for one to take it with a pinch of salt, mutter "que sera, sera" and "C'est la vie" under one's breath and move on, at other times it gets slightly more challenging. If so, one might take heed in this particular Einstein's sentence - Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous.

With this new perspective, move on with life.

last words

Linkin Park - Leave out all the rest

1:
I dreamed I was missing
You were so scared.
But no one would listen
Cuz' no one else cared.

After my dreaming
I woke with this fear.
What am I leaveing,
When I am done here?

So if you're asking me I want you to know...

2:
Don't be afraid
Of taking my beatings
Of shit behind me.

I'm strong on the surface
Not all the way through.
I've never been perfect
But neither have you.

So if you're asking me I want you to know...

3:
When my time comes
Forget the wrong that i've done
Help me leave behind some reason to be missed.
And don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest,Leave out all the rest.

Forgetting
All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well.
Pretending
Someone else can come and save me from myself.
I can't be who you are.
I can't be who you are.

---

Death

If i die, survive me with such sheer force
that you waken the furies of the pallid and the cold,
from south to south lift your indelible eyes,
from sun to sun dream through your singing mouth.
i don’t want your laughter or your steps to waver,
i don’t want my heritage of joy to die.
don’t call up my person, i am absent
live in my absence as if in a house.
absence is a house so vast
that inside you will pass through its walls
and hang pictures on the air
absence is a house so transparent
that i, lifeless, will see you, living,
and if you suffer, my love, i will die again.

---

Quotes

Einstein's belief in an undivided solid reality was clear to him, so much so that he completely rejected the separation we experience as the moment of now. He believed there is no true division between past and future, there is rather a single existence. His most descriptive testimony to this faith came when his lifelong friend Besso died. Einstein wrote a letter to Besso's family, saying that although Besso had preceded him in death it was of no consequence, "...for us physicists believe the separation between past, present, and future is only an illusion, although a convincing one."

- Albert Einstein and the Fabric of Time, everythingforever.com

time in army

There is little to blog about these days except army army and more army, which is hardly material for writing at all and that explains why i have yet to update for a long time. Nevertheless, I shall try to wriggle out some crap about time in army. So read with a pinch of salt. Here goes.

One bitter night after a tortorous day in a field camp, with my temperature soaring at an unbearable 38.7 degree celsius, the cold harsh wind presses against my shivering body and knocked some sense into me...

"The future is something which everyone reaches at the rate of sixty minutes an hour, whatever he does, whoever he is." - Lewis Carroll

It is understood that there can be three possible phases of time - the past, the future and the present. It is as a result of the three phases that time can flow in a continous manner. It is also understood that for centuries mankind has functioned by dividing time into equal, measureable and absolute units, as tools such as the sundial, the hourglass and the grandfather's clock have demonstrated. However, these understandings contradict because the former implies continuity, the latter, division into chunks and bits.



"Oh! do not attack me with your watch. A watch is always too fast or too slow. I cannot be dictated to by a watch." - Jane Austen, Mansfield Park

Despite the understanding of division, one should recognize that time is in reality is not a constancy, in both scieintific and psyhological terms. In science space and time intertwines into a curvature and hence it would prove impossible to take a reading from an entity independent of the other, according to the Theory of Relativity. Psychologically, one reads time according to his own perception at the moment, explaining why time seems faster or slower than what it actually is at certain critical times.



"Rushing to wait and waiting to rush. We are always prepared (to do stupid things)." - Chief of Army, Country X

This brings me to the main point of this post. In army, time flows only for a purpose - so that the authorities can say time's up. When time is up an activity has to cut, the question of when is secondary. Maybe the commanders might claim that there is no cutoff for, say, a navigation exercise, but if you fail to report back two days (or two weeks, if you have the audacity) later a search party will be activated and the exercise has to cut. During these exercises the wisest course of action is to complete the bare minimal and wait for the cutoff because if you finish early there is still work to be done. Hence if you are not working you are waiting. Even if you are working you are waiting for time to be up so that you can stop working and start waiting. When life is lived in such circumstances time becomes a monotony - meaningless and trivial. Extending the circumstances, it would not be hard to see why soldiers like (and especially) me view time as a constancy.



“Wherever any one is against his will, that is to him a prison” - Epictetus

When one is imprisoned there are certain symptoms associated with it. There is resignation and helplessness, when one accepts the fact things are what they are and whatever he does is merely futile. There is too cynicisim, for stupidity and wickedness are too plentiful to be of pure coincidence. There are sporadic outbursts of anger, although that eventually fades away when juxtapositioned to the infinitum of time. Occasionally there are jokes, the dark ones, to remind onself that one is at least still sober in the face of absurdity. There is this sense of loss, like a war scar that still bleeds sometimes but makes one more manly. And when the symptoms manifest and the imprisonment within one is complete one feels that the world continue to travel but himself, and suddenly one is left so far behind that any hope turns to dust. And all this in the name of defending the country, as if any sane conscript gives a fuck about it by this time.

“We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams.” - Jeremy Irons

On certain nights when the stars are so breathtakingly clear there remains a sense of obscurity and apprehension as it had used to be. They say stars are a relic of the past for it leaves behind a twinkle long after the time had past, to be observed from someplace faraway. At present when I observe the stars there are memories, memories that has to be there for the past to bear any significance to begin with. But which memory matters more - that one single scene when I was pursuing freedom, or the other when I was marching aimlessly? And hence. with the former deeply engraved and the latter left floating away, suddenly the timeline does not seem so smooth after all.

By the same measure the future is too a rememberance of the present, for in future the present becomes the past and the future present. But the future has yet to be etched on the stars; it is still out there waiting to be discovered. And hence there is a element of hope, there are things yet to be dreamt of and there are infinite possibilities. There are studies, there is work and there is a life out there. But all these has to wait, there is still army. Suddenly the immediate future is all but vanished - what dream can there be in army? And the timeline collapses and breaks down into chunks and bits like how it can be described with a watch.


With this the flasback blurs and time continues its travel, rymthematically and unemotionally...

back to army

Some random thoughts

It was of mixed emotions that i left tekong a week ago while performing my guard duty and that particular emotion i can never forget. It was more than being aware of facts, more than obsession with facts. Facts such as i no longer have to go back to tekong and i have a week of block leave to look forward to. At that point of time it was quite simply a tranquil feeling, aided by the pulse of the calm waves and complemented by the cadence of the process of reminiscing, recalling what exactly had happened in bmt and deciding which memories i will take with me. Memories of friends, of lessons learnt and of melancholy.

---

It's three, in one more day i will report to the army and there is a sense of deja vu. It had been this way the day before enlisting - already awaring what lies ahead and dreading it and realising that there isnt any damn choice because you have to defend the country. sometimes you wonder what this country really has to offer in return for conscripting you - increased gst and increased ministerial pay and increased bus fares and increased foreign talent so that they can outcompete the singaporeans males who are not economically competitive because they have take time off work to do their reservist annually. And then after taking account of the huge opportunity cost of being a citizen of singapore i wonder if the government has been fair to label the quitters as quitters, if it is all worth it after all and i can suddenly sympathize with those who went AWOL (ran away from army).

---

They say SISPEC (School of Infantry Specialist) stands for "suffer in silence plus extra confinements" and for a while i thought it was a wacky abbreviation until one day that prospect becomes horrifying; there is after all a possiblity that it might be true. I am aware that my bmt could have been much tougher, it wasnt but already i can barely stand it and i shudder to think what would happen if it was. as if it wasnt enough to suffer you have to suffer in SILENCE and on top of it you get confined. now i m seriously considering whether to report to my commander tommorow and tell him i am disinterested in being a sergeant anymore can you please take me out of the course? Forgive me for whining but please understand that i will have to suffer in silence in future.

---

I read my recent writings and realized that it no longer flows anymore like it used to in the past. in this post i think my writing has to come in huge chunk because my brain has progressively atrophied, it cant function that well. that's what happens in the army, only those who had served will understand and if there is one word for this whole process it has to be leopardification.

The Little Prince - Chapter Seven

Reread the book recently, and realised that there was a chapter in the book which I had failed to adequately comprehend in the past, the part where the little prince grew angry at the protangonist for failing to provide him with a satisfactory answer to his question because the protangonist has "more serious matters to attend to". As a friend of mine had used to point out, the idea the little prince and hence the chapter conveys seem slightly unwarranted; after all given the desperate circumstance the protangonist's preoccupation with repairing his plane at the expense of answering an assumably irrelevant question seems reasonable. For the little prince, whose ideals the theme of the book centres upon, to imply (through his very negative reaction) that pondering over something as trite as why flowers have thorns is more important than even the protangonist's immediate survival, it appeared then that the underlying message of the chapter is slightly disturbing.

Formerly I would be more inclined to believe that it was a misunderstanding between the prince and the protangonist although such an explanation means the chapter serves no literary purpose, but recently I decided that perhaps there is nothing disturbing about the message after all. Firstly we must understand that the question "why does flowers have thorns" is a question that explores the intrinsic value of relationships, for the flower in this context symbolizes a subject that the little prince loves dearly. Secondly, we must recognise that by this point of the story the little prince is confiding his problem to the protangonist, only to be skeptically dismissed. Thirdly, the claim of the protangonist that he has serious matters to attend to also brings out another issue - what exactly are serious matters?

Whether it is pertaining to survival or not, there are many a times that men perceive that they have serious matters to attend to, and as a result they dismiss what might be more important to them, consequently only to regret his course of action (Think work and family). The chapter seems to be a replay of such a scenario, with the protangonist feeling "like a blundering idiot" consequently. When the issue is indeed pertaining to survival, one can also juxtaposition the process of living with life itself, and the latter would apparantly be the greater of two. However, there too are many people who adapt the "live-in-order-to-survive" meantality that they forget the grander purpose of living, one of which is to understand the essence of life and everything else. Consequently these people merely live through the motions, defeating the point of life itself. Why then, should these people carry on living, when they cant be bothered with the significance of life itself?

In the cut-throat world out there it would indeed be tempting to live in this manner, to live like a grown-up. In fact I have to admit that I am guilty of this in the army as well. It is fortunate that I rereaded the book, and like the protangonist, realised my mistake.

Life sucks?

Two words. That was but all of what was written in that peculiar message a close friend sent in the middle of the night, but nevertheless it inspired this entry because it struck me in so many respects.

It is the context of the message that struck me. When one uses the phrase it usually goes with an unfortunate situation, but in this case i detect none, and so i have to attribute it on a general basis. Why? What happened? When posed after the comment these questions were merely trivial, because the comment is indicative of one's perception towards life. Of course there are evidences to establish the fact that the bottle is half empty, just as you have evidences to support otherwise, but why express it this way? Or rather, what point?

It is the significance of the mesage that struck me. Life. The source of wealth - for it presents value to all things. Live on, they sometimes say, for life is hope, living life is a resemblance to clinging onto hope, whatever you might hope for, however low the statistical probabilty. Seeing is believing, but what seems so spectularly beautiful on the exterior, is it merely a facade?

It is the finality of the message that struck me. Life sucks. A short statement but it seems to be the conclusion after a night of deliberate pondering, it appears to sum up any single thoughts that you might been having recently. So are you sure it sucks? And then you would say yes without hestitation. This is how firm you are, and I am in a loss of words.

It is my reaction to the message that struck me. Me myself, I were and still am so capable of employing such a phrase sparingly, and suddenly i wonder if I had ever meant them before. Why? What do I want before things are better? In what way should I lead my life? Why life?

But then I am a easily satisfied person. Not much actually. I am contended to lead life in a way life is supposed to be led. There may be changes, but I will hold on to what I treasure to the best of my ability. My dearest ones. My wisdom. My survival. The rest matters not.

It is such an irony I have to write this.

But life does not suck.

Excerpts - Part 2

16/01
It is day six, and what really strikes and gets into me is the type of regimental and routinous life that recruits are made to go through. Everyday is nothing; merely another day where commands are to be followed in a mindless manner. There will be people asking what's next - but what point in knowing when you dont have a damn choice? Dont think, dont ask, just follow. That seems to be the key to survival.

Already i can feel the environment sapping whatever thoughts and feelings I might have within me - gradually but certainly. So this is what the adjustment process is all about. Once the diffusion is complete, I would have fully adjusted.

17/01
Fell horribly sick and was running a high temperature. Felt extremely miserable, but was told by the Medical Officer that I would have to stay in Tekong. I really hoped I could go home with this illness.

But someone told me it was all mental. Maybe I am fighting a losing battle in my mind - and it is taking a physical toll on me.

18/01
This is really my first brush with a catch-22 situation I have long imagined about, and it left me very fustrated.

In the army recruits are expected to report sick when they are genuinely sick. If they do not and collapse during training, commanders will blame recruits for acting like a hero. Yet if genuinely sick recruits report sick they will be labelled as weaklings, and receive blame for creating a whole pile of paperwork. To simplify things, sick recruits who report sick accused of malingering, sick recruits who dont report it and thus fall in training are accused of being stupid; inconsiderate to himself and others.

It will always be a recruit's fault for getting sick, even though he doesnt desire to do so, even if he eats, sleeps and trains according to the regulations stipulated by the Army and has no control over his life whatsoever. To simplify further - Whatever happens, the recruit is at fault.

I am a bloody recruit.

20/01
What makes a piece of pawn effective in a game of chess? It is about total obediance towards the player isnt it? If a pawn is capable of self-interest, capable of emotions - one would rather not have the pawn isnt it? This is the same case with recruits, they too have to be conditioned until obediance is reflex.

Missing what used to be is still much of a constancy, but it is already locked somewhere deeply into my heart, there is no much room for such emotions to manuevre around. After all, what is as complex as emotion will soon be irrelevant, replaced by a term as trite as morale.

So far, SAF has proven itself as an effective force.

21/01
I am the only person in the whole platoon to write anything at all, and sometimes I wonder if I am the only person to be going through and feeling what I have been feeling up to now, and I fear the answer is yes.

22/01
It's four more days to booking out, and this afternoon I fell into a deep daydream. It wasnt that fascinating, merely a dream with regards to me leading a civilian life again and being my same normal self. It would have been a breathtaking afternoon if not for the fact that I eventually woke up, saw that I was still stuck in my bunk, and was so agonizingly close to crying.

That afternoon I did not speak a word.

23/01
Standard Obstacle Course today was pretty screwed from my perspective, I simply couldnt pluck the courage to complete the confidence stations. It was a no joke experience, each time when I tried out a high risk station I couldnt help thinking of the horrifying scenes I witnessed in the hospital a few days ago as I was reporting sick - blood splurting so high out of the arteries from the knees of one of the recruits through the bandage, the whole leg was covered with fresh blood, the MO screaming at people to get away and wheeling his patient into the emergency room, the person sitting beside me looking away...

Looking at how effortlessly the others managed to complete the stations, and comparing themselves to the apprehensive me, I really felt like a loser. It seems like it was pure timidity - there is always a risk of injuries and I shouldnt let that episode deter me, but i cant. At the point of crossing the obstacle each time I was so overwhelmed by fear, I really want to do something to cross it but I cant and that feeling is so terrible. That feeling of immobilization.

By the time I negotiated with the SOC my whole face was pale and I felt very sick. I hope I am not developing a phobia towards the SOC.

25/01
It's day fifteen, tommorow is book out day and it occurs to me that I am merely an observer - a cynic contended to observe by the sidelines. Morale was high within the Leopard Company, but for some perssimist reasoning i see a reason not to be as excitable. Maybe observing has been a process throughout my life, my emotions had never seemed to be in sync with my bunk mates at any point of time.

I really want to go home. But I am not happy despite the fact that I can go home tommorow. I think I want something more.


*This are merely excerpts of my diary, not the full version. Some parts are left unblogged for reasons with regards to privacy, but I hope that these excerpts are useful in telling what my life was about in there.

Excerpts from a diary - The Life Of A Recruit Part 1

The following are edited excerpts of what was written in my diary during my life in the army for the past two weeks. The entries speak for themselves.

12/01 - Morning
It's an early friday morning and by this time I am acutely aware of my disillusionment with this whole place, but what actually complicates the problem is the one single scenario that keeps playing through my head. That departure scene was still fresh in my mind, I remembered having to do it so quickly so that I can appear nonchalant but i know it is not the case.

The first day down, it wasnt technically speaking an arduous day, there would be more rigorous activities to go. But that was a day of misses - a very emotional day for me. And some, if not most times an emotional hurt can be more severe than a physical one. At least the latter I can endure.

I think queuing to shave bald in a chilly drizzling evening is quite a quaint atmosphere, it feels as if there is a layer of melancholy in the air but everyone seemed happily knowing one another and chatting, making a mockery out of each other's plight. After the shaving it no longer feels the same - I felt the wind brushing across my head and minute hair particles dissolving in the cool breeze - and then I wonder if the tinge of melancholy mixes with the hair particles. But I know that it feels different too because it no longer will be the same. My emotions are justified.

And so for the last time, farewell.


13/01 - During Lectures
That sickening feeling is still there, it is no longer as intense but it seems like it will be in future be a permanent constant. It was of emptiness, of hollowness, of a lack of substance but not of indifferent.

Maybe it is just the adjustment period. I might get used to it soon. Doesnt everyone goes through the same thing? But what happens after the adjustment period? Does this sense of loss naturally dissipates and diffuse into the thin air, or will it still be present, just that you have gotton used to this sense of loss and learn to live it as part of your life?

Or maybe I will look at this one day and merely laugh at myself for ever feeling this way, so miserable over a minor issue.


14/01 - During lectures
There were lectures all the time which I dont really care much about. It feels much better now, but sometimes you think that there is any meaning no longer; i am passing time for the sake of doing so.

I have decided that this feeling isnt a matter of homeisckness, alhtough that is one of the key points to the issue. The problem is that if I live for the next two years as I have for the past three days i am no longer sure I have the motivation to carry on. Lectures mean free sleeping time, but this was the longest three days ever in my entire life.

But a lecturer said this:
Change the story in your mind and you can change your picture of the entire world.

self reflection before army

The rain has just stopped falling, but at night there could be no rainbow, could there? It is two-forty and on a cherished night i am by myself now, in a night's time i would be spending the darkness in the tekong. On previous nights I try not to imagine or even think about army, but it is of such irony that this rainbowless night marks an end to my civilian nightlife. No, the peculiarity lies not in the phenomena, which I am so used too, but rather, the lack of it. The expectations. The mood. The words. It feels different.

Army stories - I have heard aplenty, experienced some, but never adequately prepared. Maybe it could have been a romantic night if not for this reluctance. Maybe it was the sense of iinevitablity that forces me to cling on tightly; the act of treasuring might never had taken place if there was no threat? Yet besides the sense of impendence the days leading up to now can be said to be the most meaningful I ever had. It was relaxing and I had fun. But just when you are beginning to look forward to you had to let go. And then you will miss a lot too. There is this Singlish word sian, a meaning of helpless fustration. I think only guys conscripting soon will get it.

I dont exactly feel proud that I am serving the nation soon. I mean, the army's propaganda has instilled a sense of necessity and pragmatism into us (which I dare deny not), but how can we take pride in serving, especially after reading how poet Wilfred Owen mocked Horace's adage "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" (It is sweet and fitting to die for the country) in this poem? This would not be the first time I clad myself in the army uniform, and there had never been an occasion I looked forward to wearing it (including promotion) since the novelty of doing so had worn off six years ago. But it has been a while. How would it feel like again?

Though unrelated, I'm vaguely reminded of the question. What if I am trapped in a Catch-22 situtation? What follows next? In the story Catch-22, the catch circles around the basis that sanity is the fundamental criterion to the discovery of one's insanity. The idealistic protagonist, Yossarian, puts up a brave struggle but it was ultimately trapped and yielded to the catch. And eventually it is elevation; a symbol of mediocrity. But whether it is resemblance or not, there are a few philosophies of Yossarian to which I subscribe to. So what do I do?

But Catch-22 is more than a contradiction, for statements from Catch-22 do make logical sense when stand together. It is also more than a paradox, for it reads consistently. It is definitely more than a dilemma, which merely requires a decision. Catch-22 is more than any problematic situation because it effectively means nothing. And the bottomline of Catch-22? You have no choice but to serve.

There was only one catch and that was Catch-22, which specified that a concern for one's safety in the face of dangers that were real and immediate was the process of a rational mind. Orr was crazy and could be grounded. All he had to do was ask; and as soon as he did, he would no longer be crazy and would have to fly more missions. Orr would be crazy to fly more missions and sane if he didn't, but if he was sane he had to fly them. If he flew them he was crazy and didn't have to; but if he didn't want to he was sane and had to.

Catch-22, Joseph Heller


Written at two-forty just now. If this doesnt read much sense, that's because I was slightly drunk then.

A very uninteresting rant about the new year

Why was i looking glum on new year's eve? Basically i have been leading a good life and i m resistant to changes. But here are some reasons.

Personal

Adult fares - This is totally a horrible thing that can happen to a poor child like me who doesnt have the means to support myself, let alone travel. It is superbly inconvenient to borrow my brother's ezlink whenever i need to go out so that i can enjoy concession fares.

Anticipation? - I think I had been too eager in anticipating 2006 the year before, only to be left slightly disappointed. 2006 was a reasonably decent year, but it pales in contrast to my expectations. Hence I resolute to continue hoping, but for less. 2007? There isnt much to look forward to in the first place, so i am just hoping i can continue surviving and get done and over with the year.

Maturity? Note to thyself - You are eighteen and you will be conscripted to the army soon, dear poh wei, so stop acting like you dont give a heck about responsibility, rules and discipline. Toe the line, be more normal and be good for once so that you can survive in the army, wont you?

Army - This topic deserves another blog entry.

Soccer - My favourite West Ham United got thrashed 6-0 by some lowly Reading. A tough relegation struggle is all but confirmed.

Issues regarding economics (which you might not be interested in)

GST to rise again - In the land where chewing gums are banned, the Government will be raising the Goods and Services Tax, which is regressive in nature - SO THAT THEY CAN HELP THE POOR!!! So much has been said about how a GST hike is necessary in keeping the economy competitive, but what detailed plans have you come up with in order to assist the poor, Mr. Minister?

Economic depression - This is merely a prediction, but what does Keynes says when the economy is at its peak? (Depression) What usually happens the year after an election? (Depression) What can result from a combination of the following: A fall in confidence of the greenback, US deficit continues to laden, a US property and asset bubble (burst), uncertainty in oil prices? (Depression on a worldwide scale?)

Poverty - Help me! I think I am in it right now.

Strange Meeting

By Wilfred Owen

It seemed that out of the battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which Titanic wars had groined.

Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,-
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.

With a thousand fears that vision's face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
"Strange, friend," I said, "Here is no cause to mourn."
"None," said the other, "Save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also; I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something has been left,
Which must die now. I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled.
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress,
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery;
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery;
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.

I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now . . ."

Gift-ing - the utilitarian perspective

I remembered reading an article a few days before Christmas highlighting the trend that the most overused gifts from a gifter's perspective are probably, and ironically, the most disappointing gift a receipient can expect. And if you have yet to suspect, chocolates from cold storage tops this list. Given this saddening trend, is gifting still rational and necessary today, or has it been relegated to a mere formality?

There are economic articles examining the validity or necessity of gifting, but most of these articles, including wikipedia's, assumes quid pro quo (a favour for a favour), possibly derived (but perhaps incorrectly) from the fact that all men are rational beings and hence necessarily acts to maximize their satisfaction, hence the expection of reciprocation. In this post, instead of quid pro quo, I shall instead assume that a gift is bought with the intention to maximize the satisfaction of the recipient, which is likely to be a loved one.

If the assumption is true, shouldnt the most rational gift choice involves one gifting money, instead of other objects, to the other, one might ask. After all, satisfaction should be maximum if the recipient is able to choose what he really wants with the money, instead of gifting him chocolates. Money? How insincere, you might say. I would, on the contrary, happily prefer one to present me with money (anyone?) instead of soft toys. Yet perhaps due to issues of tradition or even the question of sincerity, it would seem offensive for me to present money to others as gifts. However, it must be noted that questions of tradition and sincerity does not make the argument of money gifting less rational.

One feasible approach to rationalising gifts is to take into account the time and effort required for the purchase and preparation of the gifts. If one were to present another party with a gift that he or she really desires, it would exceed gifting money because of what comes from the bottom of the heart, which can be reflected by the effort one spends on the gift. But it must be noted that for the previous statement to hold, the gift in question must resemble what the recipient really wants; if not the gift would be of less value to the recipient as compared to what was actually paid for the gift. Besides, anticipating what the recipient wants is a skill too. This effectively puts gifts like soft toys and chocolate out of the question.

Another thing to take into account in gifting money is the prospensity to consume. When gifting money, one should not expect the recipient to spend every dollar on deriving immediate satisfaction. Surely the gifter would expect some of the money to be saved, or donated to the charity, for that matter? Taking this into account, the satisfaction the recipient derives consequently would be actually less than the satisfaction that the recipient could have derived with the actual sum of money given (if the money is converted to other gifts). Remember the last time you feel pleasantly surprised at a gift? This is because unlike the way you save and spend money (bits by bits), what you get in gifts comes at one single time - the pleasure derived from the gift is immediate. Of course, the exception occurs when you receive chocolates. In that case, even after the leakages, money still gives a greater satisfaction.

In reality, there are many irrational issues with regard to gifts that is unfathomable. People want to feel remembered, to feel loved, and not all gifters aim for satisfaction maximization; some simply dont give a damn. There are emotional issues involved that one could pen not. And quid pro quo do hold for most of the cases.

But that is not my point. My point is this: If you are gifting for mere formality, if you are not confident of gifting an item (including effort) is worth at least what it costs, then it is probably not worthwhile gifting. But there is still a point in getting gifts.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

-William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Merry Christmas. I cant believe i spent the silent night writing this, but these days festive holidays are just festive holidays.

a more normal post

I shall mindlessly rant on and on about my life nowadays in this post. So unlike my blog? Dont read then.

Prom Night and Post Prom activities

I didnt actually meant to attend, but my dear friend Jason couldnt because he's in Australia. Being a good classmate as I was, I attended consequently. And it turned out to be not too bad. At least i enjoyed the company of my class.

One good thing about this promenade is that it provides me with the opportunity to talk with and take photographs with many people whom i know, but wont actually be seeing and hearing from for a very long time, possibly forever. It ended up with an exchange of pleasantry and banters with some, and those photographs i will not likely to see it again, but i dont really care much this time. This occasion has made me even more convinced that my fate intertwines with whomever i may have seen or known in the past, in a manner that may appear paltry but actually significant; that may be seemingly calculated but in reality inconceivable. And prom nicely and conveniently summed up everything.

(For those who have photos of me in prom nite and have means of sending them to me, you're not the some i was writing about. However, please kindly send me those photos so that i can decide on whether i look charming in those photos.)


One photo which i actually look decent in

Post-prom was very much wilder. Me and my classmates went clubbing and for the first time i actually entered a club using my own IC (not someone's else). Of course, this wasnt my only first. I managed, together with Zhao Wei, to fall asleep in a club when i would had most likely been dancing the whole night. WTF!?! Fortunately, no photographs of me were taken and i was spared the agony of sighting any pictorial evidence of my reputation as a "night-lifer" being tarnished.

But the highlight of the day has to be the fact that i was late for an hour and managed to arrive later than the principal Mr Ang, who was also the VIP for the event. This completes my hat-trick. Hahaha.


What I am doing nowadays

I am squandering my time away watching DVDs, catching up with all my friends and playing computer games. Sometimes i play music. I think I seriously need a book. If not I will be rotting away. But it doesnt matter. When i am enlisted in the army in 11th Jan 07 i will be rotting in the army for the next two years anyway. So one more month of rotting makes no difference.

By the way i hate how the word "enlist" is being abused in Singapore. "Enlist" has the connotation of being voluntary. It's like delibrately punching someone in the stomach and saying (oh, so nicely) that it was merely an accident. It is pure hypocrisy. For goodness sake be honest and use the word "conscript". If there is any negative implication it lies in the policy, not its wording.


'A' Level Examinations

I never felt so thrashed and pwned in any examination in my life before. This was the first. I shall try to recall some memorable moments.

Exams 0 Poh 1
Maths was a piece of cake.

Exams 1 Poh 1
Physics Paper 1 and 2 were completely horrible. From my TYS experience, I do not believe that there are any years that offered a combination of questions as godly as our year's. I sat like a lame lamb waiting to be slaughtered. I went out of the examination hall wandering if i have sat for the correct paper.

Exams 2 Poh 1
My answers to Economics Paper 3 was totally disgusting. I refuse to comment furthur.

...

Exams 10 Poh 1
I was already feeling quite insecure before fmaths paper 1. This paper was slightly challenging, but it was enough to derail all my preparations and send me reeling in shock. Those who met me after the exams would have observed that my only capable facial expression was a numbed smile. For fmaths paper 2, i seriously doubt (but hope) that i have more than half of the questions completely correct.

Exams 11 Poh 1
S Maths was superbly hard. I left about 30+ marks blank because I was simply clueless. i do not know what else to say about the paper.

Exams 12 Poh 1
2 hours into my S Econs Paper, my hands became cramped from all that insane scribblings and i was unable to write legibly any furthur. Damn.

To sum it all, it wasnt really a very fun examination.


Thoughts

My thoughts are all reflected in the belowmentioned quote.

Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.

-Martin Luther King Jr


P.S: I think i ought to update the very few of you people (my readers) on what type of life i am leading now. Thanks for even bothering to come here - you dont have to. You really deserve more than the sporadic and minimal post frequency my blog has to offer. And it will be long before i write another normal post like this.

a post

How do i pen my thoughts down? Time is arguably the most powerful tool, but they rarely change things, do they? It has been a while since i have pressed the "publish post" button yes. Most of the time it's better to leave words to its own fate.

But i'm going to write and post something today, i promise.


What it takes to forget

He tried.
But failed.
To bid an eternal farewell to these unwanted memories.
It might have been distant,
but that voice pierces through the distance.
In his heart,
he felt it tremble.
All it took was a glint,
and it clung on too desperately.
Or was it illustionary?

They say time heals all wounds.
The hiatus,
a void that disabled the gift,
that disconcerted the thoughts,
that dispirited the atmosphere.
But what if the hiatus is a foregone conclusion?

And so i play in my mind a melody
to the rhythm of farewell.
But time was accompanied by silence,
that stole the tear so i no longer cry,
then took away tommorow so i no longer think,
and froze my heart so i no longer feel.
The music was completely wrecked,
devoured by the silence.

When the song of reflection clashes with silence,
silence drowns everything.



Time to sleep now, there's still maths tommorow. Nitez.