Big Basket Balls

2005-09-02T06:29:00.000-07:00

I'm experimenting with a parallel blog, at

nobilitas.blogspot.com

It's an allegory thing about the duality of my character.

Which is not split-personality schizophrenia, mind you.

2005-09-02T05:32:00.000-07:00

I have mustered enough strength to blog again.

Well!

There's so much to report on. I'll briefly record the Armour stuff first.

Straight after the technical handling tests on the heavy weapons we went for a simulation shooting practice.

Its like those arcade video games, except that instead of a screen and plastic pistols they have a 360 degree screen and projectors plus a mock-up turret/cupola of the vehicle smack in the middle of the room. You manipulate the cupola and the weapons systems (including the smoke grenade launchers) just like the real thing, including the loading and firing of the auto grenade launcher and the heavy machine gun.

Wicked sick indeed. WICKED!!!!!

Problem was the 40/50 cupola has no electronic targetting sight scope so everything had to be engaged with the naked eye as the only targetting system. Which, of course, isnt very useful when you're shooting at enemy APCs 1500 metres away.

But it was still dead fun, the ultimate arcade experience. As i said, it was WICKED.

Then came the driving course. Was another fun thing except that the instructors became alot more temperemental, especially when we didint drive the 23 tonne armoured vehicles properly, and screamed at us alot more as a result. Which, naturally, stressed us out even more to the extent that more mistakes were committed.

Like driving into the gullies.

Sergeant: OII!!!! SLOW DOWN!!! @#*%$@)^%)^(^^&$# (@)#)##!!

Me: Yes sergeant im doing my best

Sergeant: You best cant even include stepping on the #($*#*@#& brake pedal and $)%@!*_) releasing the accelerator and setting gear to L range???

Me: Sorry sergeant

Sergeant: Never mind give me 30 (pushups) after this circuit.

Ok it didnt exactly happen that way but you get the rough idea.

Then we had to break the damn tracks. Crazy stuff that. I dont wish to record the whole process down, suffice to say that my uniform was soaked with sweat after just 5 minutes into the process. Exhausting stuff.

After driving was LIVE FIRING. WOOOOOOO

Setting up the target butt was another case study in insane and inhuman slave exploitation (what with moving 90kg concrete slabs around), but firing the heavy weapons was WICKED SICK.

The auto grenade launcher goes CHAKCHAKK CHAK CHAK CHAK CHAK CHAK and you see the little black grenade rounds fly off and go CHOOM CHOOOM CHOOM CHA-CHOOM with clouds of black smoke and bright flashes. Just like the grenade throw in BMT, but multiplied by twenty. Ho boy was my adrenalin on max.

The heavy machine gun was funky. The damn thing bangs like nothing in the world. And the rounds have this cool effect on the target barrels; they leave this small almost innocuos hole in the front but rip out the whole of the back of the barrel, like some maniac came and twisted and and tore our the metal with a chainsaw. WICKED SICK!

The GPMG was cool, because even though it was the lightest of the weapons it was the most accurate and easiest to control. Its the midway thing between the SAW light machine gun and the heavy machine gun, being a medium machine gun (DUH). CHARTT CHARTT CHRRAAAAARRRRRTTT!!! It was quite a beauty to shoot it espcially at night when all the red tracers go whizzing and richochetting just like in star wars. But one of the guys had the some ejected cartridge casings stuck in his sleeve and got 3 inch blisters on his arm because of that. Ugh.

Following that there was nothing much except the field camp, where I fell asleep on sentry duty after the laager and got one extra for that.

And now I'm sitting here waiting to be shipped out to Taiwan for platoon training.

Its quite a shitty feeling now, especially since the chaps in infantry and signals and combat engineers have all gotten their sergeant stripes already. Whereas we poor sods in armour still have 2 months to go.

Oh well. The two sides of every coin cant be seperated can they.

2005-08-01T19:19:00.000-07:00

Hanging like a sine wave through the years, its always been the same crests and troughs.

It never changes.

Re-offender indeed.

In all my relationships, in all my duties, in all my life.

I am the Re-offender, always re-offended, always re-offending, forever cursed with this exceptional ability to raise the shadows of the past and bring black darkness upon whatever new light that shines.

But that's because light is illusory, light is of no substance. I am the re-offender beause Light is im-material, it has no matter and no weight to itself. Inconsequential, if you like it.

Therefore who would be so imbecilic as to have faith in light? If the physical manifestation of light is so transient, so temporal, what more the metaphorical conceptions of light?

Are not hope and dream and promise and love-blasted love- mere flashes of impermanent brilliance, sparks from that grindstone of deception that so quickly fizzle and fade?

No, the rock we are founded on is one of despair and the need to accept brutal reality.

The reality that hits us again and again and again.

Denial and delusion-these are the true form of the light of hope, its very core. How seductive hope is! So beautiful and attractive a facade it bears, with the fanged jaws of reality concealed behind, slavering and waiting to rend and tear vulnerable, soft, human imagination and dream.

I foresee more sleepless nights.

Nothing compares to you- but to what avail do I struggle, and to what effect are my prayers?

2005-08-01T19:15:00.000-07:00

Re-Offender, by Travis

Keeping up appearances
Keeping up with the Joneses
Fooling my selfish heart
Going through the motions

But I'm fooling myself

I'm fooling myself

'Cause you say you love me
And then you do it again
You do it again
You say your sorry's
And then you do it again
You do it again

Everybody thinks you're well
Everybody thinks I'm ill
Watching me fall apart
Falling under your spell
But you're fooling yourself
You're fooling yourself

'Cause you say you love me
And then you do it again
You do it again
You say your sorry's
And then you do it again
You do it again
And again and again and again and again

Oh
But you're fooling yourself
You're fooling yourself
'Cause you say you love me
And then you do it again
You do it again
You say your sorry's
Then you do it again
You do it again

You say you love me
And then you do it again
You do it again
You say your sorry's
Then you do it again
You do it again

And again

and again

and again

and again

2005-07-16T04:16:00.001-07:00

I am sick, having gotten a sore throat and a slight chill from all the dust from outfield. I forecast a fever soon, at this rate.

Why did Patrick Viera leave? Why???? Why????

Arsene Wenger should have sold someone like Pascal Cygan instead!

There's now a vacuum at the heart of the Arsenal- no one, not Hleb, not Flamini, not Fabregras, nor even Gilberto can fill those monster-sized boots that were Viera's.

In any case, I'm into the Drifting again. The drifting is like the Dreaming, realm of Neil Gaiman's Lord of Dreams, except that this is my own realm where majesty and passion and glory and darkness meld and merge into my sentiment. I shall go on with this...

And off into the sky

Its night. Nights are longer than daytimes, say twice as long. And when there is daytime, its not humid nor buggy nor stifling nor windless. Daytime should be sunny and windy and the skies must be clear and blue, with huge swollen sheep-clouds, but all in the right proportions. If there's rain, then it must come in thunderstorms, with dark majestic sheets of grey lashing out with lightning and thunder. But for the most part it must be sun and azure sky.

But night- ahh night. This is when the clouds dissapear and the stars emerge. And the stars will be as numerous as the grains of sand, each like a diamond against a velvert backing. Pure beauty. And we're in the sky now at night.

And the stars, they're breathtaking. This big swirl of diamonds, out there sparkling in the void. Fantastic, they glimmer in your eyes, their reflections magnified and amplified into points of light brighter than day. And they sparkle, its pure magic, pure bliss, so small a pair of eyes encompassing the light of a thousand million stars in an obsidian night sky spanning half the galaxy.

Yes, night- overwhelming, colossal, all glorious and majestic and burning with the fires of a thousand passions and dreams, that are so very small but still blaze away, fueled by hope, the hope that you've given me, the hope that can never be put out nor extinguished by neither space nor time, not ever, not until you say otherwise.

That is my Drifting, my drifting into a world of beauty and nobility. Call it soppy and cheap sentimentalism, but that is my domain, my realm of hope and dream, my sanctum from the torrid stench of reality, my House of Healing, and I will not let it fade for as long as my God and my Hope lives.

2005-07-09T06:28:00.000-07:00

Armour is taking its toll on me.

I have never known such fatigue before- mental spiritual physical etc etc etc.

But oh well.

Enough about whining, I guess its just the fact that I miss my home with an unprecedented intensity.

Home, home, where I wanted to go.

Such a wonderful place, on the East Coast, next to the beach. With sea breezes and all that. None of the satanic carbon encrusted chimneys that define Jurong and Tuas, nor the endless drab HDB slabs of Toa Payoh or Ang Mo Kio, nor the filth and farms of the Chu Kangs up north. Oh man.

Home, home, where I wanted to go......

Condolences to the good folk of London, who have just witnessed yet another onslaught of that demon Terror wrought by them motherfuckers from arabia.... Condolences and may they be strong

2005-07-02T03:13:00.000-07:00

"Do you think she's pretty?"

What a DUH!! question to ask me!

2005-06-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

Watched Batman Begins the other day with the Dreikaiserbund.

The whole concept of the Bat-man is quite fascinating, the darkness, the fear, the deep brooding guilt and regret that lies at the heart of the whole story.

I dont know. I need a role model who's survived a tragic loss and has gained strength from his fear and hatred and grief, to become a wielder of terror and darkness to compensate for a failed past.

Where does God figure in all this?

I know not. Then again, I dont suppose that God figured much in The Cataclysm either.

2005-06-24T06:52:00.000-07:00

School of Armour
Specialist Training Wing
Bionix Armoured Infantry Section Leader Course

Somehow, life on the mainland doesnt seem so much like its on the mainland in Lim Chu Kang.

To the south, cemetries define the landscape. To the north, chicken farms as far as the eye can see.

And all the atmosphere is filled with that noxious vapour that is chicken flatulence.

But on the bright side, the instructors there are good, as is the cookhouse food.

I guess that about sums up the environment I am in.

Ahh but the circumstances, the situation, that is so much more complex, so much more dynamic, than the smell of the surrounding air or the geography of the camp or the taste of cookhouse food.

I am numb.

Nothing new there, you say. Youve always been that numb, immobile, dead persona ever since this blog was set up eons ago. What's so much more number about you now than that numbness that gripped you years before?

You see, the whole thing about Mechanized Armour training is that its the toughest course I've ever had. So much more physically demanding than SISPEC. Sure, SISPEC was numbing because it was just plain mentally deadening, but Armour cauterizes your awareness, your consciousness, by making you go through circuit training after circuit training.

Dont get me wrong, its an exciting place to be in. The vehicle Im on is a Bionix 40/50. As the name implies, its got a 40 mm Automatic Grenade Launcher , a 50 calibre heavy machine gun and a General Purpose Machine Gun on it. That is seriously awesome firepower vis a vis the infantry section that it is intended to fight and annihilate. The 40mm AGL is a piece of art in itself. Imagine your M203 firing. Just one shot per 5 seconds. This baby can fire up to FIVE HUNDRED 40mm bombs in a MINUTE. Pure, beautiful, devastation.

But oh, the price you pay for wielding such power. My arms are still aching even now from all that handling and physical training. It does not come cheap at all.

That about sums up the initial week of my Armour stint.

2005-06-03T09:41:00.000-07:00

Was reading George Orwell's Coming Up for Air.

Panoramic and funny stuff, and very penetrating too, in typical Brit fashion.

Somehow I feel I can idnetify with it- that unbearable tension of coming war, of massive overwhelming nostalgia and sentiment for the old times, completely at odds with the Bruce Springsteen song I'm listening to now.

Ah yes Springsteen- whoes songs are the embodiment of that upbeat, on-the-bounce, optimistic, victorious frontier spirit of the US of A. The US of A indeed! A land in the ascendent, of high hopes and high dreams, and totally high-spirited, as depicted in Springsteen's The Rising. Even I the cynic am drawn to that spirit of hope and renewal.

But about Orwell's Coming Up for Air. Thats what I can identify with more. About the times when I was in good company and in a good school surrounded by good stuff. And what good company!

Oh I'm not going to start about that company again. I've grown numb to it. I meant the sort of people- my classmates, my church clique- that I did stuff with and had a good laugh about it all.
Man do I miss those times.

And now all that has faded. The rest of the world has moved on into scholarships and relationships and universities and bright sparkling futures. Whilst I look into 5 months of Armour Infantry training. About rushing out from the Bionix IFV in full battle order and all that.

I cant whine and gripe, it solves nothing. I just can't help reflecting on how things are, and how I long for the things of the past.

2005-06-03T09:11:00.000-07:00

Clocks, by Coldplay

Lights go out and I can’t be saved
Tides that I tried to swim against
Brought me down upon my knees
Oh I beg, I beg and plead

Singin’, come out if things aren’t said
Shoot an apple off my head
And a, trouble that can’t be named
Tigers waitin’ to be tamed

Singing, yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh

Yoooooooooooo ohhhhhh

Confusion never stops
Closing walls and ticking clocks
Gonna, come back and take you home
I could not stop that you now know

Singin’, come out upon my seas
Curse missed opportunities
Am I, a part of the cure
Or am I part of the disease

Singin’, yoooooooooooo ohhhhhh
Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh
Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh
Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh
Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh
Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh

Oh nothing else compares
Oh nothing else compares
And nothing else compares
Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh
Yooooooooooooo ohhhhhh

Home, home, where I wanted to go
Home, home, where I wanted to go
Home, home, where I wanted to go
Home, home, where I wanted to go

2005-06-03T07:59:00.000-07:00

Withdrawn (I) 66.67%, Outgoing (E) 33.33%

Imaginative (N) 65.85%, Realistic (S) 34.15%

Emotional (F) 57.45%, Intellectual (T) 42.55%

Organized (J) 56.52%, Improvised (P) 43.48%

Your type is: INFJ

You are a Guide, possible professions include - career counselor, psychologist, educational consultant, special education teacher, librarian, artist, playwright, novelist/poet, editor/art director, information-graphics, designer, HRM manager, merchandise planner, environmental lawyer, marketer, job analyst, mental health counselor, dietitian/nutritionist, research, educational consultant, architects, interpreter/translator.

So says http://similarminds.com/career.html

Am I really?

How interesting. Withdrawn, imaginative, emotional, and organised.

Intriguing.

2005-06-01T20:34:00.000-07:00

Days of Darkness 3: Tales from the School of Infantry Specialists
Endgame

The bulk of Term Two seemed alot more easy than Term One.

I don't know how to put it; it just seemed that the programme was smoother and more coherent, notwithstanding the fact that I was made the Platoon In-Charge and then the Company In-Charge the week after.

Being an IC is quite an experience, to say the least. Suddenly everything changes. Your whole perspective is strained, you're more aware of the need to be on the ball, to be updated with as much information as possible about the next programme and so on, and above all theres that incredible pressure on you to account for each and every trainee, be he on medical status or on off-pass or whatever. And you're the punching bag for the instructors, as exemplified during the Matador live firing.

We'd just finished with the last of the rocket launching when dinner came at 1745 hours. So there was I, making sure everyone had their food, and about to tuck into my own, when good old Frankenstein tells me to fall in the company at 6pm sharp. 15 bloody minutes to consume dinner!!

Frankenstein's real title is 2WO Goh (my Platoon Commander), but his nickname fits him better, as all nicknames tend to do. He's a skinny but realll tall walking corpse complete with facial features in permanent rigour mortis. He keeps a meat cleaver under his desk, which everyone says is the tool with which he murdered his family 35 years ago. And I'd never disliked him more than that point of time at the Matador Range.

Everybody had trouble accepting the instructions. Twas by only the grace of God that we all managed to declare ourselves free from ammo 10 minutes behind schedule.

Ahh but the live firing was fantastic. Live firing is always fantastic; a pity they dont have live targets for live rounds. Some people do deserve to be shot. But anyway the only drawback to fire the Matador is that the range is all the way in Pasir Labar Camp.

I didnt fire the real thing, but the sub-calibre rocket was good enough.
BUUNNG-WHOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH-BBAAANG!! I think I missed my target but heck the adrenaline rush was immense. The real rocket was cool too, it was exciting watching it streaking at a crazy speed to the target. Then there's the flash of yellow, a cloud of black smoke, and the thunder-bang that sounds like the bursting of a great big kettle-drum's skin.

Same for the M203 firing. The recoil was heavier than I expected, but it was like having a mini mortar in your hands. The round goes Thoouuunk! when the trigger was pulled and the weapon jumps back into your body with a whiff of cordite. And up the round goes, landing with a small puff of grey smoke. A second later the bang sound is heard.

Live firing was cool for the SAW and SAR as well. The SAR has a screwed-up scope, and that meant I kept missing my targets and getting screwed by the instructors. But firing the tracer rounds with the Laser Aiming Device was wicked enough.

And as for the SAW- whoa nelly! The thing goes CHAT-CHAT-CHAT-CHAT-CHAT-CHAT whenever you touch the trigger and you feel like youre having an orgasm. It feels just like in the war-films where you see the machine-gunners having a go at the enemy with all the golden cartridges flying everywhere. CHATCHATCHATCHATCHATCHAT!! Wicked, I tell you. Simply wicked.

The rest of Term 2 involved some ropes courses like rappelling and more obstacle stuff, just like in Outward Bound. But the climax was the 3 day trench digging exercise where we dug till our deaths.

It was incredible. Non-stop plugging away at the ground, which was thankfully softened by previous rains.But I had armpit abrasions after the first night, which turned every motion into pure torture for me. But thank God I survived the whole mad thing. I made a vow to forget all about it, and I'm glad I'm mostly successful. Enough about trench digging. Enough. Enough.

Another interesting experience was the visit to the Tear Gas Chamber as part of the thing on chemical defence. Had to wear the bleeding cumbersome chemical uniform for almost an hour, and in the end you take it off and let the tear gas corrode you face away. But it was cool in a wierd way, cos the mask makes you look like Darth Vader or those troopers of the Combine Overwatch in Half Life 2. And the Warrant giving us the course was a real funny chap, he kept insisting that we called the gas chamber the "CS Smoke Trainer" and not "gas chamber" because the latter made people think of the Nazi extermination camps. HAHAHA. Which, of course, only made us refer to the smoke room as the "gas chamber" even more.

Missed the section live firing and the 32km route march thanks to pain in my flat feet. But well the anti climatic feeling was rolled over by my posting:

SCHOOL OF ARMOUR, Armour Infantry Section Leader Course. NUTS!!

5 months to my next rank!

That was the end of my days in SISPEC.

2005-05-23T02:04:00.000-07:00

How long, O Lord?

Will You forget me forever?
How long will You hide Your Face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, O Lord my God.

Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death.

My enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

But I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in Your Salvation.

I will sing to the Lord,
for He has been good to me.

-Psalm 13

2005-05-22T22:27:00.000-07:00

A certain female Scholar and her master have made it into my list of the people I despise the most.

The former claims that "once (Singaporean men) enter NS, they complain a lot. Perhaps, they're not used to the physical training or regimentation...easily bullied by females".

The latter asserts that Singapore males are "whiny and immature" and that he will take out anybody "if you stand in my way".

I have nothing but the utmost contempt and loathing for these people.

The former has not even the slightest inkling of what NS life is like, and has no place in commenting on what she has never experienced for herself. It goes against all logic and good sense and morality to put down those who have gone through what you will never go through. Who are you to talk about conscription? That fugging bitch's comments are a total outrage. I hope that she will be utterly humiliated in the years to come for that extremely malicious remark. She and her abominably skewed and twisted perspectives must be obliterated, if this little island is to keep up whatever pretense it has at being a "just" society.

As for her Master, he ranks even lower. Was reading about his interview in a newspaper and I have never come across such naked, blatant arrogance, not even in Mourinho, not even in hitLEE He may have engineered some technological success in Singapore but that does not make him the god he deems himself to be. His eagerness to use the legal system as a weapon also demonstrates that very sickening mentality of the island's rulers, using force and fear of force to get their way done in all things. It is my sincere hope as well that he will meet his downfall and be exposed for the malicious, power-hungry and graceless maniac that he is.

Enough bitchery for the day. Its just that at times like these certain people must be illustrated as who they really are, not who they paint themselves to be.

2005-05-22T09:10:00.000-07:00

Broken, I must rise.

Stop languishing in self pity, yes, that is the imperative.

The Imperative.

The Imperative.

Fight for hope and all that, under the sleepless stars, under the keel of that half-lunar night.

And on it goes, I wrestle into the wee hours with the demons that come in the name of noble beauty.

A part of me cannot help but lament, though it has been well nigh two years after the Disaster.

How tragic the choices were, how crippling the consequences.

Now I like Baldwin IV of Jerusalem lie behind the Silver mask, a victor turned leper bound in the cloth of self-deception, a shadow-remnant of his former self.

And what a self that was! At 16 defeating Salahdin the famed Saracen conqueror. What skill! What fortitude!

Now, now, all has changed.

Devastated, and never to recover fully.

Most of the pain has gone, leaving seared, cauterized numbness.

I feel the loss, though, like how one feels the loss of a limb, feeling a phantom sensation even though all thats left of his arm is a stump.

All that I treasure, all sunk.

God remains, of course. God will be God. Inscrutable, powerful, all-loving, yet all mysterious and all-silent.

I'm quite alone here in this crystal night of mine. All the world has emptied into a vast crystal sheet glimmering with them stars. None shine as bright as a certain pair of eyes, of course.

I cannot mourn. Of course I fight. I forge ahead. But there is no forgetting this anniversary of the wrong choice.

God, oh God. Wherefore art Thou.

Circular reasoning awaits.

And to my dear friends who've been so well informed of my problems, and are struggling with your very own now:

Do NOT take my path.
Do NOT be bound to the falls of the past, nor the fate of the future.
Do NOT re-commit my mistakes, because they are costly.
Let go and let God, else you be consumed by pride and self obsession and the overwhelming desire for control and perfect performance, as I am now.

Let your life be driven by grace and not by failure and fear.

For that is how I am living my life- fear and failure fueling every little success- and it is corrupting me, destroying me slowly.

Appreciate the beauty of what God has given. What grace there is- do not take it for granted, as I have.

I cannot pretend to fully understand your desires and problems, I am limited. But I ask that you hear these words- this is not a sermon- these words are the best advice I can give you, my dear, dear friends, out of gratitude for the grace you have shared with me.

It's blatant hypocrisy that I cannot follow my own advice. But there is time left for you still. My time is over, I have to assume the inevitable.

Stand firm, stand tall, where I have fallen, and rise to His light when I have departed from His.

This I ask of you, those who have stood by me for so long.

2005-05-22T07:22:00.000-07:00

I am so high,
I can hear heaven.
I am so high,
I can hear heaven.

Oh but heaven,
no heaven don't hear me.

And they say that a hero can save us.
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

Someone told me
that love would all save us.
But how can that be?
Look what love gave us.
A world full of killing, and blood-spilling,
that world never came.

And they say that a hero can save us.
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

Now that the world isn't ending,
it's love that I'm sending to you.
It isn't the love of a hero,
that's why I fear it won't do.

And they say that a hero can save us.
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles.
Watch as we all fly away.

Yes, these lyrics have been on this blog for some time, but that song really hits me even till now.

I dont need a hero, though.

Heroes are for women.

I need God.

Will God's love do?

What would God know of mortal love?

sending to you. sending to you.
why then is nothing ever returned?

Explain.

Define.

Elaborate.

Speak and talk and communicate else I perish of ignorance.

2005-05-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

On Penalties:

ARSENAL 5 MAN UTD 4!!

NYAH NYAH NYAH!

Rob our trophy and we'll rob yours!

To be fair, Man Utd were the better team, with Ronaldo and Rooney running havoc in the Gunners' rear ranks.

But to be equally fair, they didnt deserve the 2-0 win back in October.

What goes around comes around.

And Lehmann of all people is the unlikely hero! Hah!

Its a happy weekend!

2005-05-20T09:52:00.000-07:00

I think it's about time I started to de-formalise this blog entry system.

It just goes to show how much of a negative impact the military has had on me- everything is regimented to the extreme.

I suppose the main army stuff will continue as per regulated log entries, but this'll be a kind of civilian alter ego entry. So-

about my non-army friends' blogs.

Amazing sense of life and zest and colour- above all, life- all screaming at me, telling me what I'm missing, reminding me of what I look forward to when I step off the fastcraft at SFT (as if I need reminding about those sort of things).

Entries of movies watched, of people met, of scholarships (rejected and earned) and schooling, of books, and music,of religion and of overseas trips and all the rest of that wonderful world of CIVILIAN LIFE.

These people are so incredibly free to ponder and reflect and -above all- ENJOY the life that they live.

I say this not out of a wimpish oh-army-is-too-tough kind of attitude, but rather one more of envy. I can take and endure SISPEC (albeit only by the grace of GOD) and most of the SAF-issued crap, but I do NOT enjoy it one bit (except for anything involving weaponry).

Life truly is amazing. Cliche phrase? I don't know how else to put it.

You tend to apreciate that, once your life is taken away-not literally of course, but you get my point.

Ahh, life.

From zenith to nadir, a sine wave having over the span of 80 years.

Speaking of zenith to nadir, I hope Arsenal dont go that way on the morrow, and win the FA Cup in style. I hope they give Manchester Untied the proper screwing they deserve at Cardiff (though no-one deserves a more proper screwing than Jose Mourinho and his Russian boss).

Anyway its been a bad season for the Gunners- but things still bode well for the next one. Watch out, chelski..

And Liverpool vs AC Milan in the Champions League Finals is just surreal/unreal. Its not the wacky, colourful, kind of face-off, like say PSV versus Barcelona or Lyon vs Inter Milan, nor the straight-laced old-guard contest, for example between Juventus and Real Madrid. Liverpool vs Milan is just..... wierd. Different. The kind of "no-link" feeling, to use the Singlish word.

It'll be a whole new night in Istanbul.

But thats soccer, where anything goes.

I wish I could say the same of the other issues in life.

Got accepted by NUS for their Law and Econs Double Degree. Feel like a bit of a cheat, because my real intention is to do International Relations at LSE or somewhere. Again, the only obstacle I've got is money, or lack thereof. I dont want to burden the folks with a hundred thousand pounds of additional expenses on me and my brother, but at the same time I'm not good enough to qualify for them scholarships at PSC or FIREfly or wherever. And a trip to the US is ruled out, because of SAT underperformance.

Yes, thats your typical gripe of your typical Singaporean A level grad who's good enough to go overseas but not good enough to get the money from them bigwig organisations. I know its downright over-heard and over-whined about, but thats the big fix of my future right now. I need to find a way out.

Or rather, I need to find God's way out. See, thats the thing about living for a Higher Purpose. You dont make decisions without consulting your Father in Heaven.

I recall trying that once, trying to move ahead without the Heavenly Green Light, and it made everything go into one big meltdown. My close associates would know about The Catastrophe.

Boy was that a big screwup. I keep trying to replay everything in my mind, sifting and sorting for mistakes that can be rectified, trying for new ways to recover what tattered remnants remain of the situation, all to no avail. The mistakes, as I see it, were due to inherent flaws in my character, ie they come from some hideous weakness of mine that cannot be removed without altering my very person. The situation now is beyond redemption; a certain key person is moving overseas now and that will be the end of that. With that person's departure I will have no real option at rebuilding and re-consolidating.

So this is my other fix, then. The Pastor says that I've got to move on and "let God heal that hole in your life".

Well thats all fine and dandy until you consider the cost I've been paying all this while- in terms of time, and prayer, and money, and sweat, and yes, tears.

One of the other main gripes I hear about religion (read Christianity) is that its too much of a mass cult invovling hysterical worship sessions and self-righteous preachers screaming at you to turn or burn.

Thats true, but thats not the main issue with religion. Of course the Church has not been the ideal organisation-community for those who have chosen God. Of course some enterprising "pastor's wife"-cum- potential-Hollywood-singer and her "pastor"-cum-businessman-husband will turn the church into some maniac's conception of a private entreprenuerial corporation, complete with rock music and halls for masses of prancing young people. All that is due to fundamental human weakness- that same weakness that sees Pastors embezzling funds and Bishops molesting little boys. The Church is not perfect (and it shouldnt pretend to be so), so get over it already. All that matters is that God is perfect, and that we humans have oversized egos.

The main issue I have with the idea of God is that He cannot communciate with us. We have to do it on His terms. That is not wrong, because He IS GOD, but it is just about possible as an amoeba trying to discuss chess with a supercomputer (which is to say, not at all). I dont say this to stumble anybody, but to inject a sense of realism- since we all know that God is real.

He hears our prayers- but we have no way of knowing what He is doing to act on them. Faith pleases Him, but faith by itself does not reassure us very much for very long, especially those of us who are particularly vulnerable to the effects of the physical world of hunger and hurt and all that.

And getting to know Him and His plans for us is notoriously difficult. There is no standard formula for Him talking to us- so we have to do it as if we are doing lottery. Sometimes you get lucky and He sends you a clear message, more often you dont and go blundering into where He does not want you to go- and you hurt yourself, sometimes real badly, as was my case.

Sometimes this really gets my goat.

What a long entry. Enough. Good night you civilians. Enjoy your lives.

2005-05-07T08:03:00.000-07:00

Days of Darkness 2: Tales from the School of Infantry Specialists

Ah, SISPEC.

For years that very name has instilled fear and demoralization into the heart of many a conscript.

And suddenly the nightmare was realized in full detail on that fateful morning of the 21st of March.

Term 1, of course, saw the nadir of my morale in my already de-motivated tenure as a foot-slogging conscript.

Day One was quite an experience, with me doing push-ups in the bunk as Razak the Bastaric PWO didn't take kindly to not being greeted by us maggot-trainees.

The rest of week one was spent in a daze because I was not used to waking up at five bleeding fifteen AM every morning, and having breakfast a full bleeding ungodly hour before sunrise. Lecture after lecture passed quickly, and I cannot remember anything about them, being unconscious with both eyes open through the whole week.

But such hazinesss passes quickly in the SAF, morphing into complete, total, and utter numbness.

Thus it came to pass that I went through the motions of navigation and wandering around in the dark with a compass and getting lost, and taking tests on signals and communications.

Then there was the week of weapons training, just about the only interesting experience in Term 1 where we got to fiddle around with the Ultimax 100 Section Automatic Weapon ( a 5.56mm light machine gun), the M203 Grenade launcher, the M18A1 Claymore anti-personnel mine, and that bastard-beast of an anti-tank weapon, the Matador.

The Matador is insanely heavy. It is an 8.9kg rocket launcher which will kill its carrier through exhaustion as much as it would kill a tank at close range.

Then there were the navigation exercises where the instructors threw us into the jungle and got us all lost, returning to bunk at 1 am the next morning.

But anyway, the outfield training followed all too fast.

Ambushes, tactical movements, fire-movement drills, and all the rest of that infantry stuff filled the remnant of the Term.

I dont know how to describe it.

The whole period of life in SISPEC is incredibly numbing and deadening, not to mention claustrophobic.

Imagine yourself in this room with all its dimensions at 3 meters. A work-out machine is the only object in the room.

You do the exercises all day, until you're dead beat.

Then you sleep for 5 hours.

Upon awaking (let's call it "reveille") you do the exercises again.

And this goes on day after day after day, for week after week after week.

That's what SISPEC feels like.

That is the path of a Specialist.

****play music here, that sort of music that goes when the hero makes a startling, horrible, sickening realization that the he WILL die after all and there is no hope left****

Postscript::::
What a deadening, negative entry!

Was reading my non-army classmates' blogs and was amazed at how much life and colour they can experience and enjoy.

I need a life. A non-army life.

2005-05-01T05:57:00.000-07:00

Days of Darkness 1: Tales from the School of Infantry Specialists (SISPEC)

Prologue

Yes, I woke to a nightmare.

After a week or so of block leave, my posting to SISPEC demolished whatever high spirits I had grown to have.

The return to hell island was extremely hard to accept, despite all the prayers and support from Uncle Mark and my parents and good old Daryl.

And then there was Bravo Company. And First Sergeant Razak the Razor Rat.

That madman made us do push ups on the first day of SISPEC because we failed to greet him when he entered our bunks.

And that was a ominous portent for things to come.

The Sergeants in SISPEC are truly a different breed from those in BMTC or the rest in Singapore, for that matter.

If my BMTC sergeants were inhuman, these were sub-human.

I still can find neither the superlatives or expletives to describe the instructors in SISPEC, let alone the Warrants.

Ahh but the Warrants are very intriguing, the way a sentient alien race would seem intriguing to us.

Dont get me wrong, some of them have actually rediscovered what little humanity they once possessed when they got married and had children, but The Warrants as a species of instructors are like this overlord kind of caste. They are the kings of the SISPEC animal Kingdom. Crazy people.

This was the demon-world of SISPEC, in the Heart of Darkness.

Here ends the Prologue, I shall add the rest of the Dark Chronicles later...

2005-04-30T08:50:00.000-07:00

In the Interim.

I shall proceed to recall my SISPEC days later.

For now I shall ruminate over some very old issues. And some very old acquaintences.

Yes. I have met you before.

Out of the past, that glorious past, you've returned.

Amazing.

And you've taken the glory of the past (our past?) and made it yours, I can see it in your face.

In your eyes.

Glory and glory upon more glory.

Not that kind that shines from the Almighty.

But more human, more wonderous, and all the more... glorious for that.

It is strange, this evocation.

Why is this happening

again? Out of the past, out of the past.

It is far away. You've travelled a long way.

And I even further

From that past.

But the now is different from the then.

So.

We meet again.

Until you go into the west.

What does God want with me?

Dreams and plans lie shattered.

If only His Will matters and not ours, why then do we have this capacity to think for ourselves?

It would be so much easier to be automatons.

So much safer.

And with much less hate, hurt, and hinderence.

Enough of this sentimental mush.

Enough.

I am troubled.

By that glorious past.

2005-04-30T08:34:00.000-07:00

3rd Iteration: Culmination

The weeks preceding Graduation Parade were routine. About the only enjoyable events were the live grenade throw and the shooting range.

The SFG87 fragmentation grenade- now that’s a nasty piece of work. It seems to be such a small little metal ellipsoidal canister, almost inconsequential, yet it contains so much raw elemental power. The damn thing spews two thousand red hot ball bearings in every direction when it explodes, ensuring instant death for whoever is within 5 meters of it. Not exactly what I wanted to hear when I had taken the safety ring out and was squeezing the safety lever for dear life.

Then came the throw, and the big BOOM!!! which shook the known universe. That was about the biggest explosion I have ever experienced. Massive. Shock and Awe. Thunderous.

But apparently the C4 demo charges used to clear the unexploded rounds packed an even greater bang. And the demo expert was damn funky. Clad in his orange vest, he would calmly walk right up to the grenade and set up the charges. Then, as the rest of the world lay cowering in the concrete bays, he would stand up, completely exposed, his only actions being covering his ears, and smiling with satisfaction as the explosion went off.
What a guy. I bet he sleeps to the sound of banging.

The live shoot was good too, especially the night shoot. Tracer rounds really made the whole thing seem like Star Wars, red bolts blazing their way across the range to their targets. And due to some temperature difference in the air, they made this “tieuuu” sound just like the lasers in Star Wars.

But the rest of the time was spent cleaning the damn rifle and sleeping on the dusty floor of the training shed, while the OC spent his time hunting for copies of FHM and Maxim. White Horse Welfare got us a TV with some Cantonese VCDs, and one Sergeant Juandi got so fascinated by the films that he began to name himself Hong Heng after one of the heroes in them. Since then Hong Heng became the main cheer of his platoon.

Then there was the 24 km Route March, which was one continuous undifferentiated hell from start to finish. White Horse Welfare tried to lighten the load on our backs by stuffing shoe boxes and newspapers in lieu of metal tools and clothes, but the jealous Jaguar folk tipped off the commando RSM who majorly screwed us and our sergeants. So we went through the whole thing on low morale and 20 kilos on our backs. I got a blister covering half my ankle. But heck, once it was over, it was finally over.

Grad parade summed everything up. What a fantastic relief to fling my cap up in the air and head home. I had thought the worst was over, and didn’t really think about the future save for block leave.

And that saw an end to Basic Training. I thought it weird when people told me that I would miss those days, but subsequent events would show me that weirder things would happen.

As it was, I would later miss the days in Basic….. badly.

2005-04-29T07:38:00.000-07:00

2nd Iteration: Field Camp and Situational Test

Nowhere in the known universe does so fine an example of relativity exist as in the SAF. If Einstein and his fellow cranks were still alive, they'd be singling out Tekong for special mention as the Theory of Relativity Incarnate.

Allow me to explain. The key to all this lies in one's own perspective.

We thought our bunks were uncomfortable and made us sleep-deprived.That was until they made us sleep in the tents (called Bashas) and the trenches.

We thought cookhouse food was swine-feed.That was until we tasted our first DSTA-manufactured combat rations-ESPECIALLY the "Braised Chicken Rice with Mushroom".

We thought doing Combat PT was useless and exhausting.That was until they forced us to dig the trenches.

We thought sitting in a 5-Ton truck made for rock-bottom morale in the sweltering stench of each other and the jolts and bumps of "Tekong Highway".That was until we were halfway through the 8km Route March to our first campsite.

You see, whatever the nature of the experiences one has had, be it "good" or "bad", all will be simply reclassified as "better" or "worse" after one's tenure in the SAF.

Those military folks have developed foolproof methods of making an extra 5 minutes worth of free time seem like 5000 hours worth of block leave, or using a stay in the run-down FIBUA village in the middle of Field Camp to elict thunderous roars of approval from many an enlistee. In many ways Field Camp made the rest of BMTC life seem like Shangri-La. Camo on your face 24/7, humiliating (but fun in a twisted way) powder baths, eating combat rations, and doing the route marches was quite simply entirely degrading. I could actually feel myself adopting the persona of one of those filth-encrusted Orc warriors in the dust pits of Mordor, complete with black mottled face and rusty weapon and the stench of a thousand bathless days.

But it was good fun doing the combat movement drills. And the firing of blanks. And the talk cock sessions with the OC and the PS.

SITEST was better in a way. Was a Navigator, which meant that I carried a miniscule compass and map whilst the rest of the world struggled under the burden of 6kg Light Anti-Tank Weapons, Stretchers, Demolition charges and the like. Not that I slacked off, though. Felt morally obliged to carry my detail mates' LAWs or stretchers and stuff (the LAW, or Light Anti-Tank Weapon, has what looks like a prismatic/laser/holographic aiming and range sight like those high-tech weapons in the sci-fi flicks, but its actually just a piece of plastic).

And we got to execute cool missions like blowing "enemy" stuff up and rescuing hostages and defending "installations". And thank God for 3SG Raziff the Big Friendly Bear, who turned our supposed leopard crawl through mud into a 2-second prone on the side of the road. What a great guy. All Sergeants should be like him.
He was telling us a bit of his life story, wanted desperately to be a driver and instead ended up as a trainee in Foxtrot Company of SISPEC, the hell of hells. Well it didn’t really dent his sense of humanity; instead he became renowned as “the driver in a Sergeant costume”.

One thing that I hated, though, was the route march through the sandy dusty tracks. Made your mucus turn brown, as if your nasal cavities suddenly morphed into dual anal orifices.

In any case those weeks saw my taking of the PSC Interview in place of the Battle Inoculation Course, and then my rejection from the hallowed halls of that famed bureaucracy. From thence BMT would turn out to be a formality.

2005-02-10T08:30:00.000-08:00

1st Iteration: Orientation

"We the Unwilling
Led by the Unqualified
To do the Unnecessary
For the Ungrateful"
-Anonymous graffitti scrawl in FIBUA village

Well, I guess that quote sums up the first 3 weeks of conscription in the SAF.

It wasnt so bad to begin with, because I had quite an important platoon-mate whose father wielded almost unimaginable power in the highest echelons of Our Benefactors (translation: I'm in a White Horse platoon. The dad's the minister of defence. If that aint big enough, I dont know what is). Things couldve been alot worse.

They started slow, as they always do. Orientation, they called it. Lectures by the OC and the OO (he's the living incarnation of 'mid-life crisis'), the presentation of the M16/AR-15 assault rifle, the various forms of physical training like Ability Group Runs, 30:60s, Strength Training, etc and the incredibly useless CPT warm up. There were also the route marches and Standard Obstacle Course sessions, and the marksmanship and grenade practice. It all became a routine, blurred, transient; each day varying wildly in terms of daily activity, yet managing to remain indistinguishable from the others by the time the lights went out in the bunk. The only time I enjoyed myself though was the visit to the E-Mart where I could buy chocolates and biscuits, having become so darn deprived. (I think I'll add an index of all these abbreviations and their respective explanations for the non-military readers out there, but for now I'll have to get on with this..)

The more interesting aspect to this period were the people I met.

Not that my platoon-mates came from diverse and dissimilar backgrounds, as the PAP propaganda phamphlets are prone to suggest. In fact we were/are all S paper students. The elite of the nation's educational elite.

But having said that there was a very wide range of personalities and character types. There were the skivers, the workers, the jokers and the groupies; all unique in their own sort of way. I'd like to elaborate more, but for reasons of courtesy and time constraints I shall move on.

Then there were the officers and their beloved subordinates, The Sergeants.

Again, they represented a plethora of characters.

There was 2SG Joe, the "Mohawk" Man, who became renowned for his pet phrase ("Are you a fucking pussy??!!") and his umistakable hairstyle (note that "mohawk" is in inverted commas).

There was 3SG Raziff, The Big Friendly Bear.

There was 3SG Daryl, the Mad Horse, famous for his temper and his idiosyncracy of pronouncing "Right" as "Aite".

There was 3SG Goh, who got attached 3 days after meeting a girl at Zouk on our first book-out night.

There was the Officer Commanding, LTA Melvin, who till now is a rabid Manchester Untied fan but redeems himself through his wacky sense of humour.

There was my Platoon Sergeant, Denzil Ong, who would later prove himself to be the only SGT on Tekong to have retained his humanity in an island of madness.

And there were the clerks at the Medical Office, who played console games behind their desks, while the rest of the world sat morosely in the patients' waiting area, wracked with the horrible Tekong Cough. Quite an amusing spectacle, that one was.

And Sam's PC, a 2LT who kept calling everything "outstanding".

And the list goes on.

Yes, it was very interesting, but at that point I didnt realise it because I was sick and loathed my circumstances horribly.

My thoughts at that point of time were focussed on the negative aspects to the whole thing.

And I did get several insightful ideas about it.

It is said that the Army is essentially a Coming of Age ritual for the Singaporean male, a transition from a short sighted and immature juvenile to a robust and resilient adult capable of surviving the rigours of the working world.

Now this is only partially true, according to my observations. It is a certainty that quite a few consripts are transformed into that archetype of the mature male specimen, ideal and idealized, but the bulk of the "enlistees" either retain their immaturity or degenerate into subhuman forms of life.

It is the last category that attracts most of my attention and evokes much of my disgust.

These "men" (called only so because they resemble humans) are of overbearing demeanour and overwhelming temper, yet their facutlies for both reason and emotion (save that of anger and brutality) are at an absolute minimum. In short, the level of their inhumanity is matched only by the extent of their stupidity. Colonel MacAdder in Waugh's Decline and Fall describes it perfectly: give hell to the man immediately below you and you can rely on him to pass it on with interest.

I could elaborate more on these hideous, twisted life forms, but suffice to say that these untermenschen with oversized egos will continue to be the subject of my utmost contempt and disdain, what ever the outward facade of respect I display....

Now thats when this Iteration ends, whenever I trail off into a ramble of grumbles and whining.

This will be modified in the future as more memories squeeze themselves out of my underused brain.

But if anything, I am grateful to all you folks out there who've been supporting me through prayer or SMS or practical help. Many thanks and much gratitude to you lot, and to God my Father too, Who's always been there for me.

You citizens may sleep easy under the watchful gaze of the Singapore Armed Forces!!

*cough cough*

2005-02-10T08:22:00.000-08:00

After a month in the Army I've decided to return to this blog, in order to keep a record of my experiences and thoughts. This has been given a renewed sense of urgency recently because I now find myself becoming more and more forgetful and less and less articulate as my brain shrinks due to prolonged exposure to SAF regimentation.

So here goes the Account, roughly divided into 3 Iterations:
1st Iteration: Orientation (weeks 1 to 3)
2nd Iteration: Field Camp/SITEST (weeks 4 to 5)
3rd Iteration: Culmination (weeks 6 to 9)

Such a wonderful experience, the Army....

Hah who am I kidding?

But seriously the whole thing and my constant shifting of paradigms make for interesting memories..

2005-01-04T05:31:00.000-08:00

Finally, its back to the old blog. I'd better get my mass of messy thoughts down before I enter the Army.

Much has happened since I last came here, and more will transpire before I return again.

First there was Christmas.

Before I elaborate, I have to say that my cousin and cousinette in the USA are incredibly, totally, adorable!!

Yes it sounds bimbotic but its true.

At 6 and 4 years of age respectively they have completely redefined "cute".

Man, viewing their photos makes me feel good and warm, somehow. Reminds me that there is real beauty around no matter the circumstances.

Speaking of the circumstances, this festive season (personally at least) was neither better nor worse. But it wasnt the same.

It was different, more mysterious, more... enigmatic.

There was the unusually large Christmas works in town and the usually disgusting commercialism beneath every programme on TV, but I felt something to be amiss.

I guess my God was trying to speak. I dont know.

I kept thinking about it (as I always tend to do) and the sense of mystery stuck through the whole weekend. Through the dinners and visiting, through the sleepover at the Regent Hotel Suite with good ol' Yan and his Xbox. Boy that was one wacko night. I slept in the wardrobe because it was so roomy and with Yan banged out the whole breakfast buffet.

But what does God want with me? What could He ever want with me and my powerlessness? When I am shackled by sin and shame and error? What's the point of sending Christ?

And I didnt really find out. And that spawned a whole series of questions and doubts. I dont really think that God can ever fully sympathize with us puny humans because He will never know what its like to live under the burden of sin's guilt and shame. Sure Christ has been tempted but what He wil never know what its like to commit a crime and spend the night sleepless thinking about it, crying out confessions and repentence but always knowing that it'll happen the next day or the day after, making a repeat is inevitable, and thus making a full mockery of the whole process of repentence and forgiveness. God will never understand what its like for a pathetic mortal to live every waking moment in dread of his own actions against His Majesty.

Always falling, and always rising to fall again, to fall into sin most vile and most loathsome.

Sure, they say Christ came for that very reason. But its pointless to keep repenting and sinning all over again.

I felt quite condemned, actually. But thats only half of it. I felt (and feel) quite frustrated with His perfection.

Why should God apply His perfect standards onto such an imperfect world, especially when He knew beforehand that all mankind would be damned by one man's actions? I had no choice but to be born a sinner! Nobody was given the option to be born a sinner and stand accountable to God's wrath. And thus nobody deserves to be judged according to the sins he commits. The football analogy puts it more simply. Everyone judges the goalie by the number of goals he concedes, not the number of saves he makes. And that is utterly unfair. Then again, as a "spiritual goalie" I'd be something closer to Massimo Taibi then Peter Schmeichel or Petr Cech.

So that was my first issue. The next day, the blinkin earthquake's tidal waves sent over a hundred thousand people to their doom. And so the questions continued. To see the bloated corpses of children on the beach... It's bloody replusive and disturbing, to put it mildly.

The irony is that I spent a night last week telling a friend that Christianity is flawless, and arguing about the perfection of the faith. And she went away thinking that my faith is all solid and ironclad.

But enough of the theology heavycrap, I have decided to ask Pastor Jenni about these things on Wednesday at lunch.

And God willing, my problems will surface, though I distinctly hope not.

My problems follow me into the New Year.

But I'm very glad that its a New Year with a new start and all that! Its quite wicked in a way.

Saw good old Mr Cook and his wife at MPH! The subsequent chat was the most amicable one I had ever had with him. Must've been the fact that I wasnt in uniform. He had just returned from the UK only 20 hours ago, right on the very first day of school. Thats the old Cook for you.

Class chalet was quite funky. Spent the time getting trashed by DVA on the playstation and playing Scrabble and bridge and monopoly and watching Bring It On and all that. Pity I had to leave early to prep Army stuff.

But now I am a mere 36 hours from conscription.

My mind is dead, and my heart heavy.

But I know my God is sure and steadfast, no matter my doubts and sin.

To all my friends and companions and classmates, I thank you for your prayers, for your company, for your time.

Never will I miss you lot more than I will in 36 hours.

To Theoden King: Sorry for not being able to chat, its just that I'm not home most of the time and when I am, I'm asleep. Pray for my army stint old chap. And God Bless for your CS project. Remember that above all else you must listen to God no matter how hard it seems. Only then will you understand.

To you: I hope you got my email. I know there are scars, but I also know that our bond is too strong to decay with time. I know it will heal and get better, and I'll be there to help as much as I can. You take care and trust God, and remember not to give in to temptation, and to pray, and to let His healing begin.

To Virtuoso Ang and Greg and co: Its been a wicked time with you guys. Probably this will be the last time we see each other in a long while, but we must have that round of drinks we've been planning for so long. Hah.

Well. That is it. Sounds so melodramatic, but I guess some stuff has to be said, and there is much more to be done.

To God be the glory.

2004-12-22T02:20:00.000-08:00

Saw Ocean's 12 on Monday night with some sec school mates, including one former best friend who has made it big in the world of success. What a guy.

Unfortunately, that came at the expense of celebrating a church friend's birthday party.

It was a good night, though.

But for some reason I am very tired now. Bone weary.

The emotional oscillations have started again.

I am feeling increasingly disconnected from people, some more so then others.

I think about it all the time.

Spending endless nights staring wide awake at the ceiling watching those images replay themselves mercilessly across my mind's eye again and again.

It haunts me.

I feel betrayed.

Out of the past.

2004-12-19T07:31:00.000-08:00

Ah yes its the blog again. Haven't been here in a week.

Today is a Sunday, the 19th of December. I am tempted to calculate how many hours are left to NS, but I will restrain that worry-bug that has infested my mind for too long.

Today was a good day!

Woke up at 10am and then went for the 2nd service at Church. Stoned around Tani until lunchtime, and after that the whole gang were coerced by Josh Tan to go play LAN.

Come to think of it, there WAS a time when I actually found LAN enjoyable. But I got top frag for one of the maps, so that wasn't so bad.

The real fun started at 5pm when we played soccer with the chaps from St. Paul's Church.

A bunch of skinny teens versus a formation of 20 something year olds. The odds were against us, but it took them a whopping 55 minutes before we got kicked out.

And even that goal was not counted because their lob was actually going out, so I let down my guard.

But then it hit a tree branch and fell back in and some guy slotted it in before I had the slightest idea what had happened. But it wasn't really incompetence on my part. I did have a good game helping Tim our last man keep a clean sheet for a long time, including one very close slide tackle that very nearly turned into an own goal. I must improve my dribbling, though.

In any case the Phuket cruise was the highlight. It was brilliant, even for a family occasion.

First, the food was beyond description. About the only word I can use is incredible.

Jap sashimi, Indian curries, Italian pasta with crayfish bisque- that stuff redefined delicious.

The shows weren't bad except that the blinkin laser lights kept mercilessly stabbing away at my retinas on the first night.

Took a gym course, and now my long-delayed fitness programme is under way.

There was a topless revue show at midnight, but I didnt go for it, thinking it to be inappropriate on a family cruise.

Then my parents brought me into the casino.

The games were all very interesting, though of course I wasn't allowed to play any of them.

One interesting fact I noticed was this:

Number of Indians playing in the casino: 0
Number of Malays playing: 0
Number of Caucasians playing: 2
Number of Chinese playing: 10 billion and five.

It's quite intriguing how this gambling thing is a congenitally Chinese trait.

Then there was Phuket itself. Quite cool, aside from the initial shock of seeing a transvestite tour guide with one of the other groups. But I was really relieved that our tour guide was normal.

We went to quite a few places; there was first the "cashew nut factory" (I had no idea that the things even existed), a "diamond making factory" (which didn't just sell diamonds but also leather wallets and glass lamps)
and some funny place that sold all sorts of dried seafood. Then we went to the market place where I bought an Arsenal jersey and jacket for $45. The jersey was Reyes', the No. 9. Was looking for Cole at first, though. Wanted to bargain for less but we were short of time. Pity.

The trip back to Singapore was hideous and reminded me why I hate the place. From a clear blue sky and vast blur waters the whole scene soon degraded into a cloudy overhead with greenish-grey water, and the air was acrid with the stench of smoke and fumes.

And then the whole refinery-shipyard-reclaimation industrial complex comes into view looking like it came out of the Isengard or Mordor scenes of the Lord of the Rings movies. All that was needed was the the Eye of Lee filled with a sleepless malice looking over the Island of Shadow.

But life has been good after returning, though.

Now I must make haste, for certain people are returning from overseas...

2004-12-09T05:13:00.000-08:00

Well, I've got the FIREfly programme tomorrow

.... but I decided to do up my other blog instead.

It's quite wierd maintaining two blogs, but I guess it makes it easier, in the sense that the emotional stuff won't be mixed with the normal day-to-day log entries.

Come to think of it, I should start up a third blog to dump my writing sketches.

In the meantime, the cruise awaits.

2004-12-09T02:51:00.000-08:00

1 Have mercy on me, O God,
according to your unfailing love;
according to your great compassion
blot out my transgressions.
2 Wash away all my iniquity
and cleanse me from my sin.

3 For I know my transgressions,
and my sin is always before me.
4 Against you, you only, have I sinned
and done what is evil in your sight,
so that you are proved right when you speak
and justified when you judge.
5 Surely I was sinful at birth,
sinful from the time my mother conceived me.

Psalms 51: 1-5

I have to repeat these words because of my great sins. Sometimes I just give up on living for God and then I plummet into this pit of wrongdoing and despair. The Lord is my sole hope now.

I have said these words so often, and always my flesh is weak.

2004-12-08T20:55:00.000-08:00

ARSENAL 5 ROSENBORG 1

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Fabregas' goal was DAMM PRO
Henry's chip was brilliant

WICKED!!!!

Well I certainly hope they bash Chelsea this Sunday. That asshole Mourinho is needing one big fat punch on that puckered face of his right now.

I think we'll see a lot less emotional cartharsis on this blog, now that I've set up another concurrent one. It will seem a bit schizophrenic, but I suppose it's better that way.

It's already the 9th of December.

What in blazes man!! It's already over a week of holidays! Time moves too fast.

My fitness programme is barely off the ground, I'm stuck in an endless grinding of FIREfly stuff, and in Half Life 2 I'm still on Highway 17- while my brother is already storming Dr Breen's Citadel. Not to mention the fact that I have to start gettting Rome Total War soon, and go out with Greg and Shawn and the other dudes.

And, of course, that same old issue.

But enough. Time to seize the day.

Oh yes I will be cruising away to Phuket with the family on the 12th to the 15th of December through the pirate-infested waters of the Malacca Straits. So I will be taking neither calls nor messages. Thanks.

2004-12-07T03:18:00.000-08:00

Without the exams my interest in the humanities has far from deadened.

Suddenly the worlds of literature and history have become more appealing to me, all those stories of Conrad and Waugh, all those chronicles of the Seluccid Empire and the Thirty Years War and all that.

Immensely fascinating stuff. The worlds of non ficton and imagination have never seemed so intriguing.

2004-12-07T02:49:00.000-08:00

Went to the GRAND COPTHORNE last night to celebrate the end of the exams with good old Yan and his family.

I ate:

1 crayfish hors de'oeuvre
2 oysters
3 prawns
3stuffed egg slices
1 seared tuna with roe
4 slices of smoked salmon
2 Shashimi bluefin slices
2 shashimi salmon slices
2 shashimi tuna slices
2 shashimi unkown fish slices
Romaine lettuce, baby corn, Russian salad, and "salad of the day" with French, Caesar, and Thousand Island Dressing
1 bowl of Green Pea Soup
1 slice of Japanese egg
2 slices of grilled red snapper
1 chunk of Tandoori chicken with mint sauce
a serving of fried rice
2 slices of roasted salad beef
1 piece of some bread
bread and butter pudding
6 tarts with apricot/strawberry/kiwi
1 pineapple slice
1 slice of tiramisu
1 chocolate tart
1 cream puff
1 glass of chocolate syrup
1 apple pudding

This was as good as the previous one at the Hotel Continental, but I preferred the previous one because it had pasta. Having said that this one totally kicked ass. I felt so bleeding stuffed, but it was blinkin worth it.

Well, we tried going up to the penthouse suite but then found that none of the lifts' buttons worked. So we could only hop from floor to floor whenever one of the guests was calling a lift up. In the end, we discovered that the buttons could only be operated by a guest sliding his/her key into a slot below the button panel! So in fact we were stuck in the bleeding shaft!

Fortunately you didnt need a key to press "1" and this we did.

On the 4th floor we found a wedding in progress. We nearly gatecrashed it. HAH!!

Wicked place, this Grand Copthorne. Wicked food. Yan and I have made plans to stay over there on the Christmas weekend playing the Xbox and eating massively delicious hotel food- they're having an Italian chef over on that period. WICKED, no?

2004-12-06T02:48:00.000-08:00

The photos are finally uploaded on shutterfly.

The trick now is to make em available to my friends.

Oh well.

The fact is that I still have a billion other things to do after school.

The firefly crap and church stuff... bugger.

And then the whole crystallization of boredom is slowly getting to me.

Yes.

that's it. I'll start a new blog, a concurrent one.

2004-12-04T06:03:00.000-08:00

With the ending of Lit S the Epoch of JC has passed into memory, fading as quickly as mist.

The A Levels.

The hectic build up to prelims.

The events, the CCAs, the companions, the lectures and the ponning of lectures.

The insane math tuts and history essays.

Old Cook's and Harris' crazy repartees.

Mucking around at the stone tables.

All over. All into the pages of yesterday.

Do I miss them? Am I feeling those silly tugs of sentimental nostalgia?

In a way, yes.

But I am just glad that the blinkin exams are over.

OVER!

WICKED!!!!!!

DEAR HUMANITY.

WE REGRET BEING THE ALIEN BASTARDS.

WE REGRET COMING TO EARTH.

AND WE MOST DEFINITELY REGRET THE CORPS JUST BLEW UP OUR RAGGEDDY-ASS FLEET!

HOO-RAH!!!!

HALO 2 rocks. Pity I can't play the thing. At least I've got Half-Life 2 now. Wicked!

Went to Prom.

Immense occasion. The stage performances were substandard (except the school rock band and Vintage Flavour) and so was the food but the photo taking was dead fun.

For once I was pleased with what I wore. Heh must've been my subconscious German fetish; my colour scheme was inspired by the Deutsch national flag. With the Eurofighter Typhoon collar pin, I sort of envisioned myself as Die Rote Baron of der Ottokommando von Luftwaffe. But that wasnt the point. The record number of photos I took was.

Will upload the pics over the course of the next week; I must first figure out how that complexicated shutterfly thing works.

But THAT PHOTO.

So incredibly fascinating.

It brings out so much of these.... sensations in my mind.

Went to camp.

Felt that other than the worship and the soccer, it was quite flat. Or maybe its just because Im jaded from all these camp stuff. Good effort by the comm, though. Great mix of newcomers.

Went to a Firefly interview.

It was an unnatural experience, but at least I'm through to the second round.

Went to the PSC tea session.

Quite fascinating, actually. Looks like the MFA is the thing for me. Great chance to start a world war.

Heh. Heh. Heh. Heh.

The only major bone up my arse now is the fact that as I type Chelsea is going 8 points clear at the top of the table.

I loathe that club, its owner, and its manager. It is a pretentious outfit with a filthy rich Russian asshole and a bloody effing, annoying, and even bigger asshole of a Portuguese coach.

The only positive perspective I have about them is my respect for Lampard, Terry, Robben and Petr Cech.

Well, looks like I will go and upload the photos now.

Lets hope Arsenal and pull through the long winter ahead.

I will blog again shortly; the feeling of having neither school nor homework is very, very, new. So my thoughts and emotions are still half assembled now.

2004-11-27T05:03:00.000-08:00

Went to Sentosa today with the YM.

The games programme wasnt bad at all, but the whole idea of going to Sentosa sucked majorly.

A whole legion of PRC tourists descended on the island and flooded the place with their Renminbi, clogging the buses and monorails, and wreaking ordered havoc on the beaches.

So I had to brave the massive hordes of chittering China people to fight my way out of that cursed island.

Got home and am really tired.

I've never been this tired before.

It's not just physical exhaustion. Every single part of me- spiritualy, emotionally, mentally- has been drained flat by the events of the past months. One colossal battering of exams after the other, with a major friendship crisis in the middle, and the whole stinking business of the bad memories from last year's Debacle coming back to haunt me in my sleep.

Not to mention the guilt from my sins that plague me. Nor my increasingly depleted state of social life.

And then I've got the Army in a month's time.

I can't bitch about it, of course. Action is more effective than words. Action to fight and win and progress.

So action it shall be.

BUT then, I am really very tired.

So thus I shall drift around, as I myself dissolve into this nebulous mass of semi-existential being.

Its not a fun thing to be caught between a deep burning desire within your soul and a total exhaustion that prevents you from doing anything about it.

I dare not let it out on my old pals; they've enough on their plates.

Somehow.

Somehow.

beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppppp

low battery.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

2004-11-24T04:40:00.000-08:00

Boyakasha! AliintheOperaHouse AliintheOperaHouse!! Hey!!!

WICKED-

Today is the day my A level papers ended, but not the S level papers. Bugger.

So I went out with the classmates for lunch and shopping.

Yes, shopping! Do not mock me, though. Of the 8 people who went out 7 were girls, so being heavily outnumbered, I had to quietly endure the ignominy of standing in the ear-ring and female clothes sections.

It is amazing how emasculated one can feel when permeated with the essence of female.

But it was interesting cos I got to see ears being pierced for the first time, though. Hah!

Went to Topman and looked at potential prom suits. Negative.

Then a bunch of RJ fellas came round, one of them being my old friend from my sec school.

"Hey!" he says to me.

"Hey man never seen you for a long time"

"So your A levels ended anot?"

"No lah still got S paper. Hah you leh?"

"Still got physics tmr basket"

etc etc etc

"Eh that's your class ah?"

"Errr ya. Haha.."

"wah all girls ahhhhhhhhhh"

at this point i'm like dude i'm in an arts class! Dont stare at me and them like they're my harem or something!

Feeling very very embarassed I mumbled some lame farewell and then walked away.

Gee!

GEE!!

Oh man.

Hah don't get me wrong, though. My class are fine folks. But it makes for a bizarre sight for one guy to go out with a whole bunch of girls. It's not entirely normal if you ask me.

But then, life is far from normal. Hah!

AliintheOperaHouse AliintheOperaHouse!

In any case I was playing this game called return to Castle Wolfenstein online.

Because it was my first time playing I ended up blowing up myself with the Panzerfaust.

And then my effing team mates kicked me.

What the blazes man??!! Give the new guy a break! Blinkin fools. Blast them all.

Now being liberated from the A levels I will proceed to master new fields of knowledge. Enough of the blasted sine curves and derivative scherivative faeces. Its time to read up on philosophy. On Hegel and Plato and Nietzsche.

In fact, its time to do a whole lot of things.

Its time to add muscle mass. It's time to run 10 kilometres at one go. It's time to get a 4 pack and from thence a 6 and ultimately 8 pack.

It's time to seek out my God and know Him.

It's time to work on my university applications and scholarships.

It's time to get a tan

to play soccer and tennis and warcraft with folks

to write that book

to grind the principles of economics into my brother's head

and to use every scond of time between the 30th of november and the 6th of january.

It it time.

For:

"They said this day would never come. Well, what have they to say now?"

-Halo 2 trailer

2004-11-20T19:47:00.000-08:00

Boyakasha! AliinthelandofWales AliinthelandofWales!!! Ho!!

WICKED-
I have just had 14.25 hours of exams in 4 days. This has drained me so much so that my facial expressions are now carved in stone. But for some reason my mind is ever twisting and turning and tumbling. I think some of my sanity went that way. HA!

I think that children should never be given the name Dennis, or at least it should have 2 n's in it like D.E.N.N.I.S and not one n like D.E.N.I.S. The latter is too easily mistakable and misspelt so that it becomes a name for a particular(ly) male organ. "Hi Pen- I mean Denis!" and that sort of thing. Right that's not the point.

9 days to the end. I'm beginning to wonder about the aftermath. The 37 days to conscription. Of which 4 will be in a ship in the Straits of Malacca and 3 in a chalet in Tampines (it should be pronounced Tam-Pines not tampeenees). Ok, that's not the point too. My intensive fitness programme will go into full swing. I intend to be able to run 9-10 klicks without pause by the time the Army comes calling.

I am very very isolated. I'm reminded of the Pract Crit piece for the Prose question, the passage from Jasmine Nights by that Thai guy Sopwon or something. An incredible piece of writing. Very beautiful. Very poignant, yet not soppily sentimental. I must read that book. His writing is so vividly descriptive, without being drony, that its almost as if you're looking into a photograph with 10000x100000 resolution. Very artistic. Exceptionally fascinating.

Somehow I feel chosen for the life of a hermit. And its not only because I can't connect with people. Of the top four scenarios on my holiday wish-list, 3 are the sort with minimal human contact.

Well, here they are (not in any order of merit):

1. A soccer-watching/shopping/heritage/history trip to European cities of Munich, London, Edinburgh, Paris, Budapest, Vienna, Stockholm, Copenhagen, Venice, and Florence and Milan. Maybe Constantinople too.

2. A stay in a Log Cabin in winter in the American fir forests in Oregon, or in Canada, right in the heart of wolves and wildlife and the like.

3. A stay in an island in the Pacific Ocean with crystal clear waters and white beaches and that sort of thing. And with the whole island to myself.

4. A stay in the Savannahs of the Serengeti in Kenya or Tanzania or something. Looking at the vast expanse of animals and vegetation under the clear African sky and with Mount Kilamanjaro as a background.

So many places to go to. Incredible stuff.

2004-11-13T05:52:00.000-08:00

Tottenham 4- Arsenal 5.

That is frrrrrrrrriicckkkking close if you ask me.

They should fire Cygan.

But heck I'll take the 3 points anyday.

Phewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

I am feeling less down- marginally so. I still feel angry at myself for all my stupidity and incompetance. But I've no time to dwell on that.

2004-11-12T05:09:00.000-08:00

It chanced that they met under a pewter-grey sky, an unchanging uniform sheet of lead curtain.

It was no contrast to their meeting place, the courtyard of a broken and shattered cathedral, the stained glass smashed, the tombstones and Virgin Mary statues as heavy-coloured as the sky above.

The silence's grip upon the landscape was ironclad.

At length the Red Duke spoke.

"Why do you delay, O Baron? You know Lord Cromwallis the Usurper marches on the Capital on the morrow. Its defenders are in disarray, they have no leader, now that their King is dead. Yours is the last loyal garrison between it and the Enemy. Why do you sit here, Baron? Time is of the essence."

The Baron stirred, cold eyes gleaming from beneath the shadow of the hood.

"Why do you presume that my loyalty to the King stands even in his death? You know full well that the Kingdom has been sent down the path to chaos, and that its course is unalterable. Speak not of loyalty to me, Lord Falstaff. You yourself know who killed the King, do you not?"

"You would agree that that was a tragedy, Baron."

"The King died by the hand of his own Prince! I saw it with my own eyes, Duke Falstaff. I was in the acloves when he came striding through the bronze doors unheralded, and walked unhindered right to his Majesty, and knelt before he drew his sword and-"

"Yes, Baron, I have heard all the accounts"

"So do not speak to me of loyalty any longer. If our Prince- who, mark you this, is by right our new King- can slay his own father right on the Golden Lion Throne, what use of loyalty is there in this land?"

"Our alliance stands, Baron. You should mark that as well."

"Do not bandy words with me- our alliance, as you noted, stands; but only because we have a mutual interest in fighting the chaos that could be the end of both our Houses."

"So is it not right that we extend that fight to save the Kingdom as well?"

"I have no wish to do so. Nor have I any fealty to a King who lies dead by the hand of his own successor."

"That is treason, Baron."

"One does not betray the dead, Lord Falstaff. The old King was a fool. You know that too. The Prince was right in a way. His father was leading the land to destruction."

"And the Prince isn't? You sound as if you are backing the Prince and his champion Cromwallis."

"I do not condone regicide, Falstaff, let alone patricide. But I empathize with the Prince fully when he looked upon his father's incompetence drag our country into shame and humiliation and weakness."

" Take a care, Baron, as to what you say. I will not brook such disrespect towards His Late Majesty-"

" He is dead, Falstaff."

"-all the more reason we should defend his memory!"

"Let me say this just once, my Lord Duke, and let that be the end of it. Our King was a fool and dotard. I did not plot his death, and I am deeply shocked at the manner of it. But the very method of his killing simply strikes me that the old man got what he was asking for. He had it coming.

He spent the last 5 years making a treaty with the Austrian Whore, the Empress Mitchra. He sold off half our colonies, downsized our army so that we may be vulnerable to the Scots, and promised an annual tribute of 60 million thalers- for what? For her unworthy hand in marriage and a mere statement pledging 'the eternal friendship of our two Houses'. That is the hallmark of a senile King- a King not fit to rule.

So this is my point, Lord Falstaff son of Falkenhayn. I am horrified at that bastard Prince's crime- and I will not give my pledge to him. But neither can I fight for the memory of our late sovereign- his dotard actions have cost this country dearly- too dearly. I will not fight Cromwallis. The Capital will fall."

A long pause descended.

"If that is your answer, Baron, then may God help us all"

A shorter one.

"So be it, Duke. So be it."

2004-11-09T02:24:00.000-08:00

Right its time to move.

And move it big.

Here's to all the old values of honour, valour, and nobility.

And strength.

Lets roll!

2004-11-08T03:34:00.000-08:00

Thanks to everyone for the prayers and words of encouragement, I guess they really helped.

It's just my nature to question everything that there is.

After months of deception and disillusionment and disappointment I guess I have to get moving.

At the same time I cannot let certain things go, because I have to bear these hard earned lessons when I face the future. They came at so great a cost; I cannot throw them away just like that and blunder into another debacle which would shatter my perceptions and break assunder the foundations of my faith.

As a historian I cannot relinquish the lessons of history. History! What a word. The story of humanity and human beings.

Or is it just hubris? Rubbish that drifts down the wheels of time and is swept into dust by the winds of change?
I don't know, the whole world's gone topsy turvy.

I still pray for God- not for His intervention, but for Him Himself, to be by my side in my agony, to remind me that no agony can be worse then being slain by one's own loved ones.

But I still ask myself questions too.

Why is it that no matter how hard I try, no matter what I do, people tell me that I'm wrong, that I should not do this or that, that I should shut up and stop whining and get on with it?

Why is it that the harder I try to heal things, the more I end up hurting those whom I love?

Why is it that I always seem to bear the burden alone, when all are at peace with the world?

I'm not begging for pity here, I am just sincerely confused. If anyone has answers to offer, then speak.

I'm sorry to those who came here expected a brand new me, a bright and cheery person with a bright and cheery life. I'm sorry to disappoint you because I have not learnt to perceive things properly. Because I have not learnt how to please the others enough. Because I have not learnt how to assert my individuality in a way that is not detrimental to those around me.

How pathetic, eh? I am merely stating the reality. There is hope and strength, yes, but they are shackled by my confusion.

I had a spate of nightmares. Horrible ones. But I'm not the only one with them though.

Yes I am a bleeding insecure person. That's why I cling so desparately to God. Because I realize that I am weak. But it's not self pity, that I know. It's an admission that I as a human being have failed my God. And I cannot do anything without Him.

But my Lord will stand me strong. That is the one hope that I have. And so should any of you, my brethren, who are struggling with sin or circumstance.

2004-11-03T23:47:00.000-08:00

This is an extract from the Heart of the Matter by Graham Greene.

I'm repeating the words of Major Scobie:

O God, kill me now, now. My God, You'll never have more complete contrition. What a mess I am. I carry suffering with me like a body smell. Kill me. Put an end to me. Vermin don't have to exterminate themselves. Kill me. Now. Now. Now.

O God, I am the only guilty one because I've known the answers all the time. God- You are ill with me. I can't go on, month after month, insulting You. I can't face coming up to Your altar at Christmas-Your birthday feast- and taking Your body and blood for the sake of a lie. I can't do that.

And God seems to speak: "I made you with love. I've wept your tears. I've saved you from more than you will ever know; I planted in you this longing for peace only so that one day I could satisfy your longing and watch your happiness. It's not the repentence you lack, but just a few simple actions."

A few simple actions, Lord. I can't even do them. Its spiritual suicide to keep on like this in the midst of so crucial a time. Oh LORD forgive me. I cannot go on insulting You at Your Own altar.

I know this is completely at odds with what I wrote earlier but I have to get it out of me. I have sinned one time too many. GP was fine but that isnt the point. Nothing matters if my spiritual life is crap. And its crap like anything now.

2004-11-03T03:38:00.000-08:00

I find it quite funny and freaky that there is a US Presidential election going on the very day before the General Paper A Level exam. What coincidence!

Ohio is being the idiot state, refusing to get its votes all counted in so the rest of the world can hang on in front of their tvs in heart wrenching anxiety. But oh well.

So I whittled my day away following the reports on CNN. Hey, dont blame me- these free and democratic elections are, like most things, stuff that you don't get to see very much in Singapore- it's like this new and wondrous thing that the thralls of certain tropical "republics" have never seen before. Like: "WOW! You mean that there can be more then one party in an election? You mean we can actually vote our ruler out? Incredible! How subversive! That is wicked, no?"

Right I guess thats going abit far but my point stands.

On a heavier tone, yes, it is the Big Day tomorrow. Forty centuries look down upon us, as old Napoleon told his Egyptian expeditionary force, prior to their epic victory over the Mamelukes at the Battle of the Pyramids. Well, forty centuries aren't exactly staring down on me and my peers, but the weight is there.

But I will not do this alone. The Lord my God is my strength, my Refuge, my strong and mighty tower. If anything I will win victory in His Name. Of course it's His Will that must be done, not mine.

I stand on the threshold of history. Before me there is this multitude of tangential possibilities- each going off on its own separate course. My futures have never loked so diverse and dissimilar from one another. The board is set; the pieces are moving.

I feel like going on and on spouting these famous sayings. The die is cast, let us cross the Rubicon. and so on and so on. But what matters is that from now on my course is set on God's.

These next few weeks- they are immense, monumental, the very fire in which my destiny will be forged. This very day will not be marked by weeping and despair and helplessness, but a sense of purpose and peace, and the assurance that the inevitable outcome is nothing but absolute victory- as irrevocably held in the Word of God.

And to my brethren who are struggling in our parallel paths, I urge you not to give up but to stand firm in His Promises. For He is as Righteous as we are sinful. Surrender, trust, obey, and He will lead you into His glory. No turning back, no turning back at all.

To victory.

For the KING.

2004-10-31T03:00:00.000-08:00

We go into this together.

Everyone each with his or her own struggles, but united in one goal: vicotyr.

Yes, victory, not mere survival.

Forge ahead.

2004-10-26T04:03:00.000-07:00

Still in shock from the Old Trafford game. Bad refreeing, but well Arsenal have had got away with bad refreeing themselves so there's not much point in complaining too much. But van Nistelrooy should get at least the 3 game ban.

I guess its a good wake up call for the Gunners. Oh well...

Question: What is an addiction?
Is it something that is unhealthy and cannot be stopped?
If not, can we say that we are all addicted to food, water, and air?

What is the difference between a need and a lust (not just in that way, just a general form of desiring something immediately)?

Is it death? As in if you go without Thing A and die, then it's a need; but if you go without Thing B and don't die, then is the initial desire for Thing B a lust?

Define a need, a lust, and an addiction.

Define it. I need some solid answers for once in my life.

Too long have I sat and wondered and thought and pondered and sank into confusion over things.

I need hard definitions.

2004-10-25T04:38:00.000-07:00

Arsenal....lost. They lost. No. They cannot break and shatter.
They must fight. Fight. They must win.

Ok that's not the point.

Just obey Him and do His Will, I said.

Well it's not all that simple, actually.

Once again I suffer from those bad memories. I doubt the pain will ever go away- I mean, even our Lord still bore scars in His Hands even after He was resurrected.

But the lessons learnt- ahhh these are the stuff of treasure. Not totally useful, and very, very, hard to apply, but they were bought at so dear a cost- so very expensive.

1. Never assume you are always right.
2. Never trust your emotions- if the Enemy is the Father of Lies, then human feeling must be the Mother
of Deceit. And together they breed lies upon lies that will only give humanity false hope and despair.
3. Hope spawns despair
4. Despair forms faith
5. And faith in God will save you- a sort of help beyond hope.
6. See archive entry 05/01/2004 - 05/31/2004, on the Successful Guy Quotient

How do these people do it so successfully?

Is there any secret to it?

Or am I condemned to live without success, as Paul did with the "thorn in his side"?

I guess the only thing that matters is that I live to glorify God and God alone.

But why, Oh Lord, why?

The pain sometimes grips me so hard I wonder if I should take panadols.

Battering, blazing, bashing
Oh when will it end.

It doesnt make sense for me to be bogged down with this when people out there are getting their heads hacked off for even believing in Christ. But I need that measure of solace to anchor me.

Elohim God on High
will You hear Your people cry
help us now
this dark hour

2004-10-23T20:53:00.000-07:00

Exodus 7:5/6

"Do not come any closer", GOD said."Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground." Then He said, "I am the GOD of your father, the GOD of Abraham, the GOD of Isaac and the GOD of Jacob." At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at GOD.

vv 14

GOD said to Moses,
"I am Who I am.
This is what you are to say to the Israelites:
I AM has sent me to you"

vv10-12

Moses said to the LORD, "O LORD, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since You have spoken to Your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue."

The LORD said to him: "Who gave man his mouth? Who makes him deaf or dumb? Who gives him sight or makes him blind? Is it not I, the LORD? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say."

If any of my brethren are struggling with sin or circumstance, look to this passage. With the LORD your creator at your side, nothing will stop you. Just obey Him and do His Will, no matter the cost.

2004-10-13T06:38:00.000-07:00

Finding myself increasingly trapped by circumstances, I am now fighting like a man possesed.

I lash out at anyone, friend or foe.

It does me no good.

But as much as I wish to get rid of these blinding bouts of emotion, I intend to retain and hone this sense of fanaticism that has come over me.

If I can shape it into a source of energy for my efforts- ah! what an immense help it could prove.

Was watching the Discovery Channel's show on Kamikaze pilots- and reminded me of the Jap pilots in the movie Pearl Harbour. What an UBER sense of devotion they had about them. Utmost dedication to their land and emperor.

Well that would be of great inspiration to me- I'm not going to die crashing a plane into an American ship, but I hope to die doing God's will and improving myself as much as possible.

I need a greater degree of personal strength and excellence. Insecurity? Not quite. More like ambition. More like a desire to avoid the disasters of the past. There is a fine line I admit but it is worth it.

2004-10-12T23:26:00.000-07:00

Ahh mistakes. Mistakes, excellent opportunities for learning.

What does not kill us will make us stronger.

Yes.

But the cost- the cost is very, very, high.

And I have to admit my mistakes.

I have been too tempremental, too insecure, too possesive, too insensitive to others. I don't really suppose it's a purely relational problem, actually- this goes straight into neurosis and schizophrenia.

I have mis-understood much- too much.

I am now cast adrift, somehow.

But is it too late? No hope?

This is my distress call then. Please keep me in all your prayers. Forgive me as I have wronged all of you- my sins against all of you have cut deeper than anticipated- and have cut both ways. I have fallen and failed- I can only rise if you all are willing to let me.

Boy do I sound like an ex-convict. But in essence that is what I am. A dastardly sinner without anything in the world save the grace of God.

2004-10-11T04:01:00.000-07:00

Cost-benefit analysis:

Cost: 18 months of time

Benefit: 0 units of reciprocrity, 19 107.5 units worth of negative spillovers

Analysis: Bleeding utter waste of time and effort.

Conclusion: Never again must we undertake such projects. Greater emotional discipline required. All non-conformist dreams/hopes/ambitions/fantasies to be exterminated with extreme prejudice.

I sound like a computer. But if I were to quantify The Debacle, it would look like something like that.

Economics is an bug-ugly subject. But highly fascinating. Just like how some insects are utterly hideous in appearance, but extremely interesting in the way they live and do stuff like build nests and infest people's homes. So I do enjoy Economics- that ugly subject.

Betty and I were having this dialectic about the role of practical economics versus
human love in one's life. Love, it seems, is without the quantifying of any costs or benefits. You spend without limit because you love someone (or something), and you don't bother what you get in return. That is true love.

But since we do not have unlimited resources (time, money, effort) at our disposal, some measure of economics MUST be practiced in our lives- we have to find some way of determining who gets our time and money and effort and who does not.

Let us consider the hypothetical situation:

Besotted Lover Boy A likes this girl. And he devotes 34 hours a week trying to win her affection. But he has a sister who is under severe stress from her exams and needs someone to talk to.

He has a miniscule, no, infinitesimal, chance of winning that girl's affections (let us assume she is already attached to someone else). In contrast, it is clear that spending a little more time with his sister would be of a tremendous help to her, in terms of easing her stress and helping her feel loved (that blasted word again!).

But being the Besotted Lover Boy that he is, he decides to throw his time into chasing that girl whom he likes. For a year he tries and tries, but gets nowhere. In fact, she rejects him! He goes into a downward spiral of losership. In the meantime his sister, for lack of attention, goes into despair and depression, and eventually attempted suicide.

The result: a complete waste of time. A tragic loss of life that could have so easily been prevented- but was not. In pure economics terms, a total mis-allocation of resources with immense opportunity cost- to use that ugly phrasing.

Why do I type this? It just strikes me that many of my prayers have been "mis allocated"- praying after things that would never be granted, when those around me, who would have been helped by my prayer, went without a single moment of blessing.

I find myself disgusted by my own blindness and weakness. It is a horrendous business to be governed purely by instinct and emotion, I feel. So much waste. so much despair. So much disillusionment.

Maybe I am seeing things wrongly. The way McNamara tried to win the Vietnam War with all his data spreadsheets and statistical analyses without bothering about the human psyche of the Vietnamese people and the American public, and in the end he lost the war. Maybe I am repeating his mistake.

I have in mind one of those scenes from a fictional movie script.

A film noire type setting. A dimmed room, windows with shutters down, slight haze of cheap cigarette smoke drifting through the air. Not cloudy to the extent that it obscures everything, but just enough to complement the dimness of the room.

Non-descript furnishings. A lamp in a corner. Desk, messy, with poker cards strewn all over.

Two men, Mike and Charlie, clad in fedoras and trenchcoats. Mike sitting, looking absently into his glass of Cognac; Charlie standing, peering through the shutters, occasionally polishing his .38 Magnum.

Say, Mike, don't think about it too much.

Yeah. 'Course I won't.

No, really. It's been eating you. Let go of it! The folks out there are worried about you. Ease up, man. How's a dinner at Ernest's sound to you?

No thanks, Chas.

It's not your fault, is it. Who would've known the dame had it all? She had it coming to her- all strings attached. And you didn't know about it. You couldn't. So stop beating yourself up over nothing.

It's not that, Chas. I could have saved her if I'd acted sooner. At least given her a chance at survival.

Well it turns out that you were only ten seconds late. So loosen up, will ya?

Yea, I guess you're right. I will.

Sure hope you do. Well, I've gotta type that damned report. You stay here and calm down. Meet you in 15.

Sure thing, Chas.

Charlie exits the room. Mike sits, alone, puts his glass down, and gazes at the far wall.

Yea. It wasn't my fault. Chas is right.

I mean, its just a dame. Dames get shot every other day. It's no big deal, is it.

Yup, he's right. I have to let go. I really couldn't have known.

I suppose I'll have to get on with things. C'mon Mike, be strong.

Mike buries his head in his hands.

Oh God.

What have I done.

2004-10-06T05:03:00.000-07:00

Well that's enough whining done for the month.

I will push ahead with my plan to seek God.

In the meantime, a couple of interesting debates have cropped up about this whole religion issue.
I have heard a lot of reports of evil in the Church- the very bride of Christ itself- and it saddens me.

We hear almost daily of priests molesting children, of pastors embezzling Church funds, of "pastors" going to Hollywood and abandoning their duty to God for selfish commercial glory-all sorts of disgusting sin.

But why do I still seek God in my Church?

I quote from Philip Yancy:
"I mention these failures not to dampen anyone's faith but to add a does of realism to spiritual propaganda that promises more than can it deliver. In an odd way the very failures of the Church prove its doctrine. Grace, like water, flows to the lowest part. We in the church (must) have humiliation and contrition to offer the world, not a formula for success. Almost alone in our success-oriented society, we (must) admit that we have failed, are failing, and always will fail. The Church in AD 3000 will be as rife with problems as the Church in AD2000 or 1000. That is why we turn to God so desperately."

And from CS Lewis:
"The Christian has a great advantage over other men, not by being less fallen (sinful) then they, nor less doomed to live in a fallen world, but by knowing that he is a fallen man in a fallen world"

The Church can only spread the Gospel successfully when we Christians give sincere advice on Christ to others and set Christ-like examples in our lives. To coerce people to believe in God is impossible, and to apply insidious indirect pressure and use commercialised half-truths on the unbeliever is immoral. The only way lies with pure teaching and exemplary living that reflects the character of Christ - only then can Christianity prove its truth in a world filled with cults and false teachings.

The fault of the Church is thus due to man, not God. But I trust in the Church because no matter what God will NOT allow evil to take over His Body- though wracked with sickness the Church not descend into deception and death. That is the promise of God.

2004-10-04T05:50:00.000-07:00

Things are clearing up slowly. Its a steep learning curve but it has to be done.

Well I must stop whining about things so often. It doesn't help. I must take concrete steps to ensure my success in the future.

There was this debate in Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? about the philosophical conflict between biology and history. I find that extremely interesting. The proponent of history argued that ultimately biology is immoral because all it promises is a genetically perfect breed of prefect man, each blond and blue-eyed and muscular, each a scientist and mathematician, each completely alike in pure human perfection. History on the other hand ensures some sort of uniqueness and difference, so that we as humans remain individuals.

Of course, the morally correct stand is that we humans should learn to treasure our individuality and unique character, so that we can remain who we are, instead a race of mere clones.

But therein lies the tricky bit. What if someone were born a retard, a vegetable, a handicap, a hopelessly disfigured person? What would the advocates of human uniqueness have to say then? Would they change their stand had they been born that way instead? This whole thing reeks of the abortion/euthanasia debate.

Very very fascinating.

2004-10-04T01:26:00.000-07:00

Alright folks I will be turning off my cell phone for long periods of time for the next two or three days.

The objective of this is not to ignore anyone but partly to cut my inflated phone bill and partly to detach myself from the fickleness of humanity.

Instead I intend to retreat into solace and seek the one Pillar of Strength that will never fail, my Creator.

And I will emerge the stronger for it.

If anyone has any questions or need to talk (not that you all have been very talkative towards me of late), just drop me a mail and I'll respond.

In the meantime I will be praying for you guys who are getting your results back.

2004-10-03T06:29:00.000-07:00

Ugh I find myself aggravated by close friends not talking to me.
I am too sensitive sometimes I admit.
But I suppose if someone close doesnt really talk to you but someone else instead I don't think that's entirely right.

It seems that non-attached girls chop and change their best guy friends every 3 months. Of course I cannot impose friendships as and when I like, but at the same time I find it very saddening and disturbing when I am brushed aside abruptly for someone twice as attractive or something. I'm not fully correct about all this, I agree, but if these friends cannot see my point then that is really regrettable.

But enough of this. People sure are stubborn. I will have to learn patience.

In the meantime I will be working on my story of the Levenbrech Rhedark

2004-10-03T02:23:00.000-07:00

"We came through Ardwyn's Pass on the night of the Octobyr moon. It was a frigid night, I remember. And dark, too, for the rain clouds had not departed from above our heads. All the men had their cloaks tight around themselves; the horses themselves were reluctant to continue. Our captain, Carridas of Raesphyr, ordered us to bivouac at the foot of the mountain for the night, fearing that we might be caught in a blizzard once we entered the plains.

It proved to be our undoing.

They came out of the mountain, taking us by surprise, their fell battle cries carrying the song of bloodlust through the camp. Dread terror took us all, even the Captain uttered his commands with fear in his voice. The men were prepared when the alarm sounded, though; we had slept clad in our armour. With well-practiced haste, the archers formed up behind the Tarkil (Lotharian phalanx of close-serried spearmen alternated with swordsmen, see Appendix 3A) and sent their blazing shot into the cold night, at once illuminating the enemy and causing disarray in the opposing ranks. The whisper of the steel-bows' song brought reassurance to the company.

But it was not to last. I suspect that The Enemy on that night had fivefold our numbers, and they were not of the uncouth barbarian tribes that sometimes inhabited the caves and ravines of the Pass. These were the elite of the Raakan, the Raaqrim. In the dim light of the arrow-fire we could see their bronze armour glinting, the strange sigils on their faces and shields glowing with malice and malevolence, their helms plumed with sickle-crests. And their mouths moved as one, chanting their cries of doom upon us.

The archers could only do so much before they were upon us. They crashed upon the Tarkil, and our men began to fall. We fought hard and desperately; the body trade was at least two of theirs for one of ours. But these enemies had consumed that drug of beserk rage, Hashish, and they moved with horrific speed. I saw one, with his shield shattered and scimitar broken, leap up and gnash at Gilead's throat with his bare teeth, slaying the tall man from Cair Fontar even as he himself fell.

Within an hour it seemed over. The Enemy had surounded us and were now among the tents and horses. The Captain by then had fallen, with his squires Gonthir and Tion by his side, and the surviving remnant were pressed against the opposite wall of the valley.

Thus the unheralded arrival of the Silvan Rangers was nothing short of a miracle. As their Captain, Reynos Trisphanir, later explained, they were passing nearby en route to the Keep at Tyr's Hand when they heard the sounds of battle from the ravine below them, and at once knew that something was amiss. And when they saw the hordes of Raakan surging down the opposite slope they had their fears confirmed. But they did not intervene immediately, their company was half the size of ours and would have been merely added to the slaughter. They decided to take a longer route to battle. With all possible haste, they had mounted the opposite peak such that they entered the fray in the enemy's rearmost ranks. The Raaqrim themselves thought they were surrounded and their battle plan was shattered assunder. But even then the outcome was uncertain. Only the marksmanship of the Silvan Rangers ensured the eventual victory.

We had survived the night by the barest of fortunes. But at tremendous cost."

-2nd Levenbrech Timothy Lleyto Rheddark, Officer in the Service of His Majesty the High King of Nos Lothar, recalling his experience of the Ambush at Ardwyn's Pass, on the night before the Baron Roscoathe's epic victory at Ravensbruck.

That's what comes of reading too much Tolkien. I am fascinated by that man's works.

2004-10-01T05:52:00.000-07:00

"My Uncle Jamal is trisexual. He is trying anything sexual"
-Ali G

That man is da wickedest bruver in da West Side Massive.
Maximum respect. Boyakasha!

But anyway the results are out, and I am mostly satisfied, yet touched by chagrin.
Careless errors are dead costly, but no matter.
The real batle is ahead.

I feel like I'm standing on the edge of destiny itself, about to be pushed right through the portal into a multiverse of possibility, for better or worse. Everything now seems so transient, ephermeral, as fluid and gaseous like mist. And it'll be all gone in the morning, and what that light will reveal would be of interest. Will I find myself on the rocks or in the fastness of success?

As much as I'm tempted to think that my path is mine and mine alone, I have to remember the Higher Purpose for which all this has happened. I need to purge every last vestige of independence from my God's Will- the last time I failed to do so it cost me dearly.

Friendships are seasonal it seems. And the winter is here. So much for the fair weathers. I try to ignore it, I try to be concerned, but somehow the whole thing disappoints me. Sorely. I did not bargain for permanency, but neither did I this apathy. Everybody else has some other great rambling partner, or is caught in his own little world. And so on. But enough. I can only hope this rot does not persist.

I fear for Arsenal as well. Manchester United are looking very, very intimidating. Rooney had a hat-trick in his European debut! The contrast could not be more stark- Reyes did an own goal on his domestic one!
Blimey. October the 24th could spell disaster for the Arsenal unless they keep their heads together and do their business.

Yes. Keeping one's head together while the world goes to pieces.
Strength, Honour, and Devotion.
That must be the new rallying cry for those of us who would seek victory.

There is a very fine line between self-reliance and independence. I tread it daily.

"There are times when the hand of fate must be forced"

But that is not the point.

Will someone tell me what is the big deal about Singapore Idol?

Why are you so interested in it?

Is it because the participants are of astounding skill and ability, that their dulcet tones of their melodious voices can bring forth the strongest emotions known to man (assuming Singaporeans are capable of emotion)?

Is it because the judges are paragons of excellent taste and remarkable wit and humour,each with his/her own colourful personality?

Is it because the competitors are themselves so engaging and captiviating, equipped with real unique characters?

Or is it because we are essentially a bunch of pathetic sentimental fools who cannot face life as it really is and must thus indulge in fantasies where we see ourselves with these beautiful people on a beautiful stage?

Well we all have our own fantasies I have to admit. But my point stands.

2004-09-25T06:40:00.000-07:00

How can it be, indeed.

How can it be.

I need to reorientate every priority in life now.

2004-09-25T06:36:00.000-07:00

Stand by everything You said
Stand by the promises we made
Let go of everythingI've done
I'll run into Your open arms
And all I know

I love You more than life,
I love You more than life

Fall back on everything You've done
Fall back on everlasting arms
When all the world is swept away
You are all the things I need
You're the air I breathe

How can it be
You were the one on the cross
Lifted for all our shame?
How can it be
The scars in Your hands are for me?
You are the king of all

2004-09-24T20:52:00.000-07:00

Somehow I'm always at fault for what happens, even though I undergo a lot of sacrifice too. And I always happen to take it out on the folks who don't deserve it. Once a bastard, always a bastard. And now I'm getting a dead silence from people even when I apologize. Have I done so much wrong to all of you that my apologies are now meaningless? Is there no way I can make it up to anyone?

Oh bugger.

Yup I'm not very gentlemanly and I apologize to all for that but I hope my real friends won't stay pissed forever at me.

Right. I am sick of all this as usual. But I intend to stop whining. It's useless.

I intend to see my plans to fruition. It's about improving those strengths, shoring up those weaknesses and purging those vulnerable, emotional (what disgusting things emotions are!) points. I suspect many will see me as an even more heartless bastard from now on but I have to eradicate every last vestige of sentimentality that so crippled me for over 18 months. Enough is enough; the buck stops here, here and now and for ever.

No, if I cannot taste the sweet, I have to assume that it's bitter.

And again I have sinned against the Creator, spurning all His blessing.
I cannot give up on seeking absolution. He is the key to everything I hold dear.

2004-09-24T01:08:00.000-07:00

Well, they've ended, finally.

Somehow that does not detract from my ennui, from that glorious sense of listlessness and restless boredom.

I should be a busy man, with things to do, places to go, and people to meet. But for some reason I can't get off and face the world out there. I don't know what's stopping me.
Is the sun too bright?
No it's not.
Then what?

It goes on. It's like a fly in the room, buzzing hither and thither to no purpose.

Whom do I serve?

What would I do?

I feel like Paul Gauguin all over again.

I need PURPOSE and VISION, else I'd go stark raving mad.

Stark raving mad?

Ah yes, insanity. A very intriguing concept.
What defines madness? The lack of "rational", "logical", thought?
So if I can reason my madness does that discount it as madness?
If all madness has some reason to it then there is no such thing as madness.
Conversely, madness can only exist in the TOTAL absence of logic.
(those semi-rational mistakes we make (like superstition) cannot be called madness because there is a ulterior purpose behind them)
Is that it?
As one of the dudes in Hamlet (I think Polonius or the King) said:
"there is method in his madness".

And what does the Creator say about madness?

I think too much. Way too much.
But if I stop pondering I will just fade into nothingness. Like a blank computer screen void.
My screen of conciousness must be stuffed with stimulus- colour and sound and all the rest of it. My own little universe.

And that bloody Bolton had to draw Arsenal at Highbury. Damn idiots- but they'll end up in Europe by the time the season's done, I reckon.

2004-09-18T05:53:00.000-07:00

Listen.

You must not abandon me here.

You cannot.

*********

Boy do I sound like Slyvia Plath on the monthly cycle.

Hah but neurotic schizophrenia is the least of my worries now.

I have been drawing up another of my role model lists for myself again.
And so here are the folks I admire. Not in any order of superority though.
And not that I'll emulate them, but they are the examples I would try to follow.

1. Lleyton Hewitt
2. Michael Phelps
3. Dennis Bergkamp
4. General (ret.) Wesley Clark
5. Billy Graham
6. Elrond of Rivendell
7. Tony Blair
8. Otto von Bismarck
9. Ali G.

More will be added to this list later.
But of course the real number one on it would be my Lord Jesus Christ.
I don't suppose anyone could ever outdo the Son of God when it comes to being a role model.

2004-09-17T02:45:00.000-07:00

1. You have no right to live among us as Jews

2. You have no right to live among us

3. You have no right to live

Those were the three horrifying steps to Hitler's Final Solution.

Was reading a book about the Holocaust and it has really smashed up whatever hopes I had left in humanity.

What a vile loathsome species we are.

And somehow I feel like a Jew. I am an alien- a stranger in a strange land. Isolated (self imposed or otherwise) and completely cut off.

In my sleepless nights I keep thinking about my life- friends, family, studies, future etc- and then I stare into the bowels of Treblinka and Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen and all their mountains of human detritus.

Its that same curse that has got me last year. That one about that struggle and all that.

I can't wrestle with these demons alone at night. I need deliverance and quick.

Elohim
God on High
Will hear Your people cry
Help us now
this dark hour.

2004-09-06T06:44:00.000-07:00

hey guys, this is pastor jenni.
who koped my daughter.
i am offering $1.01 for return of abigayle.
please wrap her up and place her outside church.
also, read your bible.
and pray.
AND CALL ME SIA, ME BORED
ROCK ON.

2004-09-03T04:33:00.000-07:00

So why can't you be yourself?

Because I simply cannot. They won't let me

Who won't?

Them.

Them?

Look out your window, Tommy. What do you see?

People.

Exactly. Society. Human beings. People.

So what's your point?

They won't let you live the way you ought to. The way you need to.

You sound like the usual social outcast wierdo. Get a life.

Can't you see it? Everything you do has to be in line. You have to please them or they won't accept you. They'll condemn you. And you have no choice but to condemn others if you want to survive. It goes on and on and on. No escape. To hell with your uniqueness- you have to compromise your character with the values of all those people out there.

That's your loss, Jimmy. You can't expect everyone to connect with you on your own terms. You revolve round the world, see, not vice versa.

Bloody hell you can't see it can you, Tommy?

No I can't. Who are you anyway, Jimmy? And how did we end up talking like this?

I am you, Tommy. I am you. Tommy "Jimmy" R. Daschle. And that is the debate I will present to the World Sociology Congress in 2 weeks time- "The Individual and Societal Conformity". You can come if you want. Right now you need to get back to the ship. The others must be worrying about you.

**************

Tommy wakes up to the scent of copper. He lies at the floor of the golden room. Hell, he thinks. I've got to get back to that ship and get prepared for that damn Congress in two weeks' time.

**************

I'm becoming schizophrenic and my blog confirms it. That piece was inspired by Michael Crichton's Sphere. Brilliant stuff.

I am sick of all this actually. What sin did my commit that I have been cursed such?
Nothing seems to work. But I must stop whining. Bleeding waste of time, whining is.

Brooding Is

Faint shimmering
Saturates permeates
fills
sparkling with specks of emerald and
gold incandescence
Am I drunk?
I swim to the light-source
Bewildered.

I must stop these silly exercises in pseudo-intellectualism. No time can be wasted.

2004-09-01T03:39:00.000-07:00

Doggone it Rooney has gone to Old Traff.
But well I'd rather he go there than Stamford Bridge.

Anyway today was wierd. Went out to study with some of the tennis-kayakers, and on order of His Imperial Majesty UYH to make sure the gang focussed on mugging instead of wasting time. But I didnt get much done myeslf.

It was quite fun mugging with them though; they make real rocking company. But I felt quite lethargic because
I was in this thick haze that comes with flu. Sorry to those who thought I was damn sian but actually I was just brain dead, pure and simple. And well I did want to go for the prayer meeting but I was just scared that I'd conk out zzzzzzzzz while the pastor was praying. Really sorry to you who wanted to go, but I just couldn't take it.
Then it would have been like "wow that boy is really holy he's still praying even after the pastor has finished!"

Ok whatever.

2004-08-30T02:18:00.000-07:00

So the Olympics have ended.

I am no patriot but I think Singapore should have gotten at least a silver in ping pong.

Li Jiawei so rocked- that blasted Korean commie orgasmatron should have got nothing.
I hope they execute her back in Pyongyang for not winning the gold medal- no more squeeling commie bitch!
"she has done well but failed to win the gold for the Korean people" or something like that.

In any case I kind of enjoyed the pract crit today- and therein is the problem. I hope I dont jinx it.

But I guess the point was that God was with me in the paper. Went into the hall with knives in my throat- but oddly enough I didn't feel a thing in the exam although I coughed a coupla times. Oh well.

To those out there under the flu- sore throats, chest pains, stuffy noses etc etc- dont give up on prayer. If anything its the Master Physician Who heals the most effectively.

2004-08-28T04:31:00.000-07:00

I am getting sick and tired of all this scholarship shit.
They bloody hit you right at the crucial point in the prelims and throw your whole revision into disarray.
Spent 8 hours out of the house going for their talks.
In that 8 hours I could have resuscitated MUGPLAN, but thanks to PSC's exceptional organizational brilliance I am left floundering.

Apparently they haven't got it into their heads to have these things after the exams.

Saw the synchronized swimming in Athens.

It's just like something out of Plath's "The Applicant"- Advanced Doll Model D2000 or something.
They all look really plastic in their loud swimwear, and boy are they unnerving when they do their thing.
Even the most well-drilled soldiers can't hope to match their precision and timing. By Golly.

The Canadian team was cool, the used the Matrix Revolutions soundtrack to accompany their piece.

Machine music for machine movement.

But don't get me wrong I found it highly enjoyable.

2004-08-26T04:13:00.000-07:00

Everton 1, Arsenal 4
Arsenal 5, Middlesbrough 3
Arsenal 3, Blackburn 0

12 goals in 3 games, 43 matches unbeaten.

I don't believe it myself. This team is great.
And that's even without Sol Campbell or Viera!

BUT I hope they dont go screw themselves into complacency again.

There's too much bleeding history to bleeding study, I realize.

2004-08-20T07:33:00.000-07:00

I'm fascinated by the concept of the warrior cadre- an elite within a fighting elite.
Everywhere in history and literature that I read I'm always on the lookout for such things- the Citadel Guard of Minas Tirith, the Imperial Sardaukar of the Padishah Emperor, the Republic of Korea's Capital Command, the US Army's Delta Force, etc etc

The idea of an elite fighting force, efficient in duty, all-conquering in battle, fanatical in devotion, with an intense sense of camaderie and outfitted with cutting edge weaponry and training- the very idea! These people are UBER cool.

Right thats not the main point.

It's 3 days to the Big Push. And I sit here and read about soccer transfers. Oh well.

"Arsenal are doing a fine job of defying logic on a variety of fronts. They don't have a transfer kitty to compare to Chelsea or United, continue to stave off bids for their star players with great success and still manage to batter down their rivals with a stick that shows no sign of cracking. Buying Arsenal could have been Mr Abramovich's quickest and cost effective route to the top. "
-soccernet.com

Those guys at soccernet are dead right. Arsenal are teh pro people.

Its the final breath of air before the dive. I must get those memories out of my mind and into His Hands- else I die.

2004-08-13T09:35:00.000-07:00

And this sounds damn gay but I'm quite happy because my search for buying a new pencil case has successfully been concluded.

I feel like a club manager after getting a new player for the team.

Alright I will smash my right hand the next time it tries to access the blog- or the internet for that matter. Too much wasted time already.

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

2004-08-13T09:14:00.000-07:00

I am stricken by those fears once again- but I am intent on remaining unbowed.

Why must this be at a time such as this? Incredible how the past leeches onto you like some symbiotic parasite that cannot be removed without killing you- wrapped right into the very essence of you heart and mind and soul.

Some of my friends are in similar dismay. Its wierd but I feel pain when they come to me and share their hurt. And I welcome it. And I wish I could provide them as much comfort as they need.

But I find no comfort myself- not in anywhere, not even in Viera's decision to stay. Only in the Word do I gain some measure of reprieve- yet that grows ever lesser as I think back on all those times.

Them idiots out there make it seem so simple to give up the past. They obviously don't have the stuff in the head- or are just stuffed heads themselves. To forget the past is to be foolish, imbecilic, and for lack of a better word, stupid. To actively eject memories and past dreams- that is to be retarded. These are one's most cherished or hard-earned lessons and hopes- what kind of person if not a fool would give them up? I certainly won't, I am no fool.

But neither can I allow the past to slow me in my quest. Is it not foolish as well to be crippled by the unchangeable? We work to make up for our failings- no use crying over them. I will work, all right.

No matter what He will have His Way in me- and I will welcome it. In my sorrow I have no other option.

2004-08-13T05:26:00.000-07:00

LET'S PARTY!!! PATRICK VIERA IS STAYING AT THE ARSENAL!!!

This is indeed the triumph of good over evil.

This is very good news indeed.

You hear that Chelski??? You aint gonna get nothing this season. NOTHING!

The Captain is staying.

Hail to the chief!

Well, my dear Zidane and co, at least you guys got yourselves a brand new striker.. *snigger snigger*

2004-08-13T04:37:00.000-07:00

Excellent stuff- Manchester Untied 1, the Arsenal 3!

Reyes sure has a bright future.

But not so der Hauptmann- the once-stalwart Kapitan Viera is off to join the overpaid fat cats at the Bernabau.

I fear for the Gunners-with that big gaping hole in the midfield and leadership. I suppose Campbell will be the new captain- but noone is big enough to fill the No. 4 boots at Highbury. Bleeding hells.

I fear the worst.

Yet soccer is not the worst; the prels are even closer than ever to me. In fact like 2 inches. And here I still squander time on computers and such. My goodness me...

Well cheers to those done with the O Level orals, hope you guys don't dwell on whatever happened during that exam- the real stuff is right in front of you. Incoming!!!!!

2004-08-10T03:00:00.000-07:00

My plan has crashed and burned and so I retreat to my blog seeking to escape reality.

Today is the 30th anniversary of the Watergate scandal.

Right whatever.

On National Day when everyone was singing the National anthem, I deliberately turned up the stereo to full volume and played the German National Anthem which I then sang at the top of my voice.

Hey I might as well do that since both are Nazi anthems anyway!

Deutschland, Deutschland Ubers Alles
Uber alles in der Welt!
Wenn est stets zu schutz und treuer,
brudderlich zusammenhalt!
Von der Maas bis an die Memel,
Von der etsch bis an den Belt!
Deutschland, Deutschland Ubers Alles
Uber alles in der Welt!

I read somewhere that this was the battle song sung by the Reichswehr as they charged into battle. Damn cool stuff.

Happy Nazional Day everyone- and remember- the PAP loves you. It's true...

2004-08-07T07:07:00.000-07:00

I can't help but go online; its too tempting. Anyway here is a by-product of the recently initiated mugging plan.

Ambassador Adlai Stevenson: Well, let me say something to you, Mr Ambassador. We DO have the evidnece... it is clear and incontrovertible...Do you, Ambassador Zorin, deny that the USSR has placed and is placing missile sites in Cuba? Yes or no? Don't wait for the translation, yes or no?

Ambassador Valerian Zorin: I am not in an American courtroom, sir, and therefore I do not wish to answer a question which is put to me in a fashion in which a prosecuter puts questions.

Stevenson: You are in the courtroom of world opinion right now and you can answer yes or no. You have denied they exist, and I want to know whether I have understood you correctly.

Zorin: Continue with your statement. You will have your answer in due course.

Stevenson: I am prepared to wait for my answer until hell freezes over.

2004-08-02T05:49:00.000-07:00

In my insecurity I have indiscriminately and irrationally hurt a dear friend today.

Well I still am not really mature it seems.

That person was generous and caring and above all, really special. But I still betrayed her all the same, being the callous prick I sometimes am.

So I guess I'm publicizing my sorry to you. You never used anyone and I was wrong in saying that.
You may ask why you should believe this and not the message that was here a few hours earlier, and I say that this is the more sincere one because it will stay here as long as the blog lasts.

I have learnt from my folly and will appreciate you more. I hope- no I believe- that our friendship is strong enough to overcome this, and that the love we have for each other in Christ is powerful enough to heal these wounds, even the deepest ones.

And I am happy for you, to see you serving with joy and pride- such things are indeed of rare value. May you remain happy, for the joy of the Lord will be your strength.

Well, I hope that hurt is laid to rest for good. As for myself this would be the last blog entry that I hope to make in a long, long time. I have no more time for computers and other things associated with a normal life- not anymore.

They draw ever nearer, inexorable, inevitable, unstoppable- and they must be met with all my strength.

Into the breach! For my Father the King.

2004-08-01T02:28:00.000-07:00

Things are falling apart.

But the trend is clear enough. It is when one's relationship with God falls apart that everything will start to follow.

I must get to the bottom of this.

2004-07-31T21:40:00.000-07:00

Ignorance is a double-edged tool.

To be ignored is quite a pissing process- extremely aggravating and painful. Especailly when you need to talk but nobody seems to bother because they're all over each other having fun and all.

It's quite amazing that those who accuse others of insensitivity end up practising it themselves. And the way they take advantage of people, using them like commodities when they really need them, and when not in use they can be simply folded up and put away in the closet along with the vacuum cleaner. Oh well. I myself am one of those hypocrites. But I'm not the only one.

But to ignore- now there's the sweetness of vengeance that you taste, flowing over your consciousness. A pity that it'll be short-lived. Revenge is ultimately not good for you.

Although I still feel bloody useless at times when I can't entertain people or keep them fun company as well as others. But should I even feel bad in the first place?

That is a hard-learnt lesson I've picked up over the years.

Well it's about time I stop learning and start living. For a higher purpose, far greater then all that paltry human company can offer me- even those whom I would call close friends. To live for God, yes that must be my aim: not for humans-not even family or friends who would betray you inadvertantly(or not). Yes, to live for the God that seemingly seems so uninterested in human affairs.

But who are we to question The Authority? When we see ugliness and death and torture in the world we conveniently pin it all on the Almighty ("If your God is such a good one, why does He let all this shit happen?"). What we always fail to see is that human free will has wrought this on us- all the killing and suffering and ugliness- and always has been since Adam's fall. Our God is a sovereign one, far removed from the sin of this world-He does not sin nor cause us to sin. He allows us free choice that is all. If we abuse it, the wrong is not His.

And yet amazingly He would persist in saving us from our own doings. He would humble Himself to death that we may live. And not only do we not thank Him and worship Him for it, we spurn Him and reject Him and grieve Him time and time again. What more can I say? If there is fault in the world the fault lies with humanity- we freely choose to wrong and so we reap the consequences. Only through Him Who was crucified can we live without guilt or shame.

Amazing Love, Oh what Sacrifice
The Son of God has given for me;
My debt He paid, and my death He died
That I might live, that I might live.

2004-07-31T03:39:00.000-07:00

What is this life, then?

We live for the future- investing in studies so that we get the good job, working at the office so we get the big house, exhausting our wallets for braces to get our faces beautified to attract that pretty girl, spending endless time on Church so that we go to heaven and not the fires of hell.

And on and on and on.

When does it end? Will it ever end?

Or is living for the moment a purely disgusting sin? Is it criminal to enjoy the moment? To attain virtue- what does that entail?
Is this our lot then, to work to death?
It must be, that is the curse of Adam and sin: to suffer all our days working the soil of the earth.

Think of it, this is no cynic's rant: when we play our time away we would die for the exams.
When we do play it is in miniscule amounts; it is only simply to allow us to re-energize- for what purpose? To go and work again.

And these good religious leaders- the pastors and the imans and the shifus- they tell us that there can be no "retirement", we work on and on and on to perfection, to fulfill the divine purposes in our lives. No rest, no stop- we climb the asymptote to achievement and perfection. To infinity.

And so we go on, this sole purpose in our lives aided by the advent of revolutionary technology that increases the pace of life exponentially.

Well, dammit, where does it all end?

No rest- no reprieve-we work till death.

What drives us to this? I don't suppose it is merely "divine will"- oh no. The fault lies with base human nature (as do most things). We envy. We look upon our neighbours and fellow man, and covet what they have. "Look, he has a bigger car then I do- I must get one bigger than his". So we go to the bank and find we can't afford one. And so we work even harder for that pay rise to buy the new car. The neighbour does likewise to get an ever bigger car and works harder. And on and on it goes.

This seems to be a quintessentially Singaporean value system- all of us goddamned rats in the sewer race.

What futile lives we live.

2004-07-30T05:28:00.000-07:00

Spinning and twirling with arms across chest and whole body whirling as I rise and then pooooof

there I go into a cyclone of dust that slowly dissipates into nothingness (what a cliche word)

That's what happened today.

2004-07-30T03:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday someone gave me a bottle of Baron's beer for my birthday.

But it wasn't the intoxicating 8.8% alcohol concentration that sent my mind into a downward spiral of dizziness and my whole being into this opaque mist of confusion. Oh no. Far from it. It was something far greater. Far more powerful than mere alcohol.

But that's enough said. I will return the favour shortly. Thanks, Mich!

What can I add here? Things are heating up slowly. I have no idea what to look forward to now. I find that certain things are not at all what they seem. I cannot elaborate on these without jeopardizing some delicately balanced situations; those in the know would understand what I'm getting at.

Bleeding hell it burns me still. Its like the fire of a furnace that pushes a 2000000 tonne locomotive onwards, ever accelerating. The boiler of my engine room. But my course is not set, never has been since the cataclysm completely threw everything out of the window.
There I go again into this sentimental mush.

Sometimes when it's dark at night and I look out of my window I find the sight quite cool. All the street lights blazing bright, the ships at sea like little stars in the dark void of ocean, the neighbouring condo like the white cliffs of Dover gleaming away (yes even at night). Incredible scene. Peaceful yet intriguing. I'd write a poem about it, but it probably won't do justice to the quiet complexity whole scene.

What the F is that Old Sinitic Bastard's (OSB) problem? Political renewal my fat sopping ass (not that I have one but you get the point). What's with the older kid being the new Dear Leader, the younger nipper being the boss of the biggest telephone corp, and the daughter in law in chrage of the bigshit government company? If that is not nepotism I have no idea what is.
Balls to you and your kind, Mr OBS. You may not have killed a million Jews but your lust for power and absolute dominion over mankind makes you no different from Hitler and Stalin and Pol Pot and the rest of them assholes. Democracy eh? You insult my intelligence.
Damned smart of you to give the peasants their bread, their land, and their peace. Else you'd have gone down.

But that is not to say that such a sort of rule is all bad. Oh no. The OSB pulled it off quite well actually. Just like how I'd rather live in Castro's Cuba than the democracy of Israel with bombings everyday.

Well they say I think too much, brood too much, am too cynical and all that.
They obviously haven't felt what I have. I once could not understand the so-called cynics myself. I avoided them for their endless proclaimations of misery, when I was naive and happy and idealistic and in Tao Nan School. But now I am of their kind. It takes certain kinds of experiences to do that to you. Oh well.

2004-07-27T07:50:00.000-07:00

Skipped a bloody useless history tutorial to go to a farewell meal at Seoul Garden.

I ate and ate and ate. But the buffet wasn't exactly spectacular. It was just quantity over quality.

I pissed someone off because of hanging on to a handphone for too long. Looks like I'm turning into a walking social disaster bit by bit. Oh well.

My plan is screwed majorly not least because of too many things in too little time.

What the heck is my problem? I can't seem to be of any help to anyone at all...

2004-07-26T04:53:00.000-07:00

Yet another messy Monday morning.

Dragged myself out of bed with the customary hazed brain. Read the papers.

From today onwards I am not going to read the Sports section until the next EPL season opens. All I see are the titles "(Arsenal Star's Name Here) Wants Out- Possibly to Real Madrid" followed by a long list of how the club can't afford to keep them and that bastardo Florentino Perez saying things like "Oh, no player is without a price. So and so is the best player in the world and we would like to have him here at the Bernabau". Arsenal supporters worldwide need to do 2 things: 1, a massive shopping spree that will boost that magnificant club out of its debt; and 2, launch an anti-Perez campaign and tell him to effing get his hands off other people's Captains.
Right enough of that rant..

At school the class was fantastic. Nearly got me there with the Man United bottle and ball (turns out one of them was the real present). But I really appreciate the UBER Arsenal ball. Great stuff, that. Problem is I won't be using the bottle for quite some time- not that I loathe Man United, I kind of respect them actually (the one English club I hate now is Chelsea)- but because I accidentally (really) broke the nib mechanism by slamming it too hard. So I'm hunting for some non-toxic non water soluble super glue to fix it before I can get round to using it.

So anyway we got back the Lit and Econs results- 54% for econs and 68% for Lit. Expected, but entirely out of proportion to the work I put into them. Bugger.

The genius Vera reinitiated the S-Cube (Scrabble at the Stone-table Saga) Seminar and for the first time school became less sian. Brilliant.

2004-07-25T03:40:00.000-07:00

"Most blessed, most glorious
Oh Ancient of Days
Almighty, victorious
Thy Great Name we praise"

That is now my marching song as I go into the Final Conflict.
There is no more room for error.
For God and His Glory.

2004-07-24T06:43:00.000-07:00

One important piece of advice from Isaac:

"Never think that as a recruit, you are a big guy in NS. If you're a recruit you are as important as the bacteria on the flea on the hair on the left testicle of a sixty-year-old cow. You only get treated with respect when you go OCS."

Fascinating indeed.

2004-07-24T04:38:00.000-07:00

My usual Saturday programme was disrupted thanks to the college day ceremonies in the afternoon.

Not that I minded that much; it was quite interesting. Saw a bunch of my ultra-successful seniors who've made it big and making it bigger in the Army and life- very inspiring folks. The guest of honour was the Chief of the Armed Forces and he looked like Kim Jong Il. And the choir was dead pro.

The seniors were like this cadre of divine beings- looking so mature to the point of being ethereal. Successful and glorified, that the rest of us mere mortal students could only look on with wonder at their splendour. Hah I may sound carried away but that was what I saw- the impression that the valedictorian speech gave me. What would I give to see the day where I ascend into the ranks of the immortals, along with the scholarship and aura of a legend. Right I am spouting too much melodramatic rubbish so I'd better get on with it.

But the real deal was the $80 worth of Kinokuniya vouchers they gave me. Not that I'm going to spend it anytime soon; won't have time to read the stuff. I think I'll blow it all in December and bring the books on my trip to the Maldives.

Ahh yes me and my plans. I hope they work out unlike the ones I had for my birthday. Bloody hell......

2004-07-23T07:10:00.000-07:00

And it's official: I have walked this earth for 18 standard years.

What shall I say?

I intended to go and buy some beer today but I ran out of cash cos I spent too much on the pasta at lunch. But it was quite good, ALL of my class guys went out together for some male bonding...hyuk hyuk hyuk

In any case we watched "I, Robot", starring Will Smith (but not as the robot). Alright, I confess- I'm a sucker for sci-fi stuff, so to me the movie was great, depsite the product placement of JVC, Audis, and Converse sneakers, and the slight rip-off scenes from LotR and the Matrix trilogies. But heck, it was quite good food for thought. And if anything, Will Smith's attitude rules, and the whole concept was cool- especially Chicago 2035- funky vision. Reminds me of the cityscene from Minority Report, which I also find UBER cool. Automated aerodynamic cars, massive skyscrapers that make the KL Towers look like sandcastles, wicked gadgets and stuff- hah it's a very interesting concept-prediction for the near future. Plot/story was thrilling enough but not without the usual cliches of a robot personality (humanity??) and all. But well...

Thanks to my classmates for sharing the present, feel quite pai seh about it all. But well, much appreciation to those folks!

What does it feel like to stand on the threshold of adulthood?

I have no idea.

Actually I have too many conflicting thoughts on this one.

I am about to receive the awards for topping the cohort in GP and History, but my chinese and econs are in the pits.

I have learnt many lessons about much stuff, but at a steep price to my time and my peace of mind.

What have I really accomplished? What will I do now that my childhood is gone and my youth is passing?

It's just like what Paul Gauguin said: "Whence do we come? What are we? Where are we going?"

Indeed I find myself repeating those very questions. My thoughts will assemble themselves over the weekend, I hope.

Quote of the next 10 days:

"You can take the phobia out of the homo, but not the homo out of the phobia"

-Mr Jack Robert Alfred Cook, responding to Harris

Or was it the other way round?

2004-07-22T07:30:00.000-07:00

It has been an incredible couple of days since that haze of blind rage descended and then lifted from me.

I spent 7 bloody hours doing 8 questions of Differential Equations. Just at the precise moment I thought math could not get any more effed up, it did- as it always tends to do.

Arsenal's midfield has been depleted even further with the departure of Ray Parlour to Middlesbrough.

But apparently treachery is not afoot only in Real Madrid; Arsenal have grabbed this guy named Flamini from Olympique Marseille right under their noses, leaving their manager fuming mad. Fascinating. If only Viera would stay, things would be so good for the Gunners... But I shall stop quoting soccernet.com

Ashley Cole looks like a Chinese gangster if not for his skin colour. But he's pro anyway.

Today was spent going through yet another talk from one of them UK universities- this time from Birmingham. Not bad, but I am getting sick of going to university presentations and making big grandiose schemes for success while my studies are barely cracking the BCDE barrier. I shall stop all this prospectus-schmectus things soon- and focus on ironing out those macro economics problems.

Came home and watched "He Man: Masters of the Universe" on the cartoon channel. Enough said.

But I guess the real highlight of the mid-week was the brilliant dinner thrown at Cafe Cartel by the kayaking gang. Crazy stuff, those guys- real crazy. But in a damn cool way.

Thanks to Theoden King and the Sams for organising and arranging the whole thing, as well as the cake. To Samt, thanks for the card and shirt and the LotR cards, that was really great stuff (not the bag though :p). And thanks to the rest of the gang who just came and crapped the place down- you guys are the champions of my world. Hah...

Well I am really grateful to those guys/girls- all 7 of them- for the stuff they did.
Especially Theoden King and Samt- fantastic job. I don't know what I've done for you guys to deserve such crazily good stuff, seriously. Samt, I know I've encouraged you and all that, but the card was simply beyond me- beyond what I deserve- I'm at a loss for words. I can only offer my thanks once again, if such words can even suffice. And to my old allies Theo and Saml, well, what more can I say? We were, we are, and always will be the Brotherhood of the Bridge Kings. Nothing will change that, ever. This Dreikaiserbund will not falter.

In any case I am sounding like some dude who won the Nobel Prize so I shall stop here. But I hope my message gets clear to you guys- yes you fantastic bunch of guys. Cheers! Ahhhh its good to be 18 with such a gang around...

2004-07-20T06:24:00.001-07:00

FCUK THE FCUKING FCUKERS.

KILL THEM ALL IMMEDIATELY.

No.

Desist

Desist

Desist.

2004-07-19T04:39:00.000-07:00

Well the return to school has removed my mind from those curses of history.

Strangely I find that as the perlims loom I am becoming more and more removed from reality. I liken my struggle to study to one of those grand science fiction/ fantasy stories I used to read so much in my youth. I now see myself in fantastic environments of fiction, fighting an unreal war against forces attempting to eradictae humanity.

Indeed I sound like one of those retarded geeks who live in a world of their own, but then again stress has extremely different effects on those it afflicts.

Thus it has come to pass that I see myself as a space Marine cadet, fighting on the fringe colonial worlds against a horde of insectoid alien invaders. Donned in my powered combat suit and loading my Gauss rifle and shuttling from star cruiser to planet-drop and all that. Or I'm some sort of Deep-Elven swordsman in the front ranks of Gil-Galad's Last Alliance, hacking away at the Orkish enemy before the Black Gate, clad in fair blue raiment, sophisticated and intricately decorated plate-mail, bearing the standard of the High-King's heraldic emblem.
Yes I do seem like a hopelessly deluded fool, pathetic in his ability to face reality. But I suppose thats how I deal with the pressure- I identify what I can empathize with-in this case a soldier on the front lines of war- and immerse myself in such imaginery worlds. I can't explain it but it helps me get round all the flak this world is throwing at me. And it seems that fictional soldiers are alot better for this, instead of the gaunt, cadaverous, disease-ridden sods in the trenches of World War 1.

But I prattle too much. The company drops in 5, and I must recharge that M407 before the inspection.

Ok whatever this is really spasticated.

2004-07-18T04:41:00.000-07:00

PS: To you (You know who you are)
Thanks so much for putting up with my grouchy grumpy face just now. I really appreciate you for organizing all the stuff for me (without much subtlety, but thats not the point). Don't feel constrained by my shitty experiences so that you dont share your shit with me, because your sharing distracts me from my problems. In short, I find your shit alot more preferable to mine. So anyway, thanks for everything, and sorry for the times I've been insensitve. Cheers!

2004-07-18T03:57:00.000-07:00

For 18 months I have tried. 18 months! Was it worth it?
Chagrin and cynicism spin their wild circles into and out of my numb brain.

I need strength. Strength and power and an iron discipline to ignore those measly emotions that we humans overrate so much. I am now motivated by fear, driven onwards by fear of failure, empowered by shame and humiliation and guilt. Ahhhh yes I can feel it- the urge to go and work and fight for success- to destroy that aura of a loser that has possesed me all my life.

So I will embrace bitterness. Yes, bitterness. To hell will those naive beliefs in "looking forward to a better future" because for 18 months I have believed in the existence of hope and goodness- and saw none of that. And now that my hope is cheated and my dreams betrayed I have no option but to destroy every last vestige of my feelings.

Of course my allegiance is still with my Creator. He has the monopoly power on salvation and love and since my demand for these things are inelastic I will bear any burden and pay any cost He demands of me. As I said, better damnation on earth than damnation in an eternal hell.

Why my friends still support me, I have no idea. Blessings are better spent on those with a hope and light in life.
But I cannot trust my hope for it has left me. Or never was with me to begin with.

Just look at me rant. Just look at all this emotional detritus. That is what makes us weak.

And will someone go and tell Real Fcuked Up Madrid to shove their 30 million up their filthy rich asses because the cannot take Viera. They simply CANNOT. Arsenal will die.

Happy birthday to me.

2004-07-17T09:08:00.000-07:00

Into the West Lyrics
performed by Annie Lennox

Lay Down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You have come to journey's end

Sleep now
Dream-of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across a distant shore

Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away.

Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping

What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea
A pale moon rises.
The ships have come
To carry you home.

And all will turn to silver glass.
A light on the water
All souls pass.

Hope fades
Into the world of night.
Through shadows falling,
Out of memory and time.

Don't say
We have come now to the end.
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again.

And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping.

What can you see?
On the horizon.
Why do the white gulls call?

Across the sea
A pale moon rises.
The ships have come
To carry you home.

And all will turn to silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the west.

2004-07-16T18:32:00.000-07:00

Transfixed on a Thursday

What goes on in those eyes
They that sparkle with mischief?
I cannot tell, they are dark obsidian
Their gleam is but a reflection of

My own searchlight for Truth.

What is Truth?
I have looked and queried
And avail flees me.

I have looked to the rain
To dissolve these doubts
It did
And then the clouds hid the truth.

What is Truth?
I paced the corridor-miles
To and fro the canteen vastness
Not a trace was to be seen.

So I looked into those eyes
Those sparkling eyes in a sparkling face
I peer into them and they open
Fantastic glitter swirls around me
Golden bubbles

Visions and images fixate me in flight
And then
I see Truth.

She's laughing at me.
Mocking me.

She humiliates me!

composed on 15/7/2004 at 2314 hrs

Well that's what comes of doing too much Donne and Slyvia Plath until midnight. Yet another teenage angsty poem that has its roots in many bitter memories. Hah! But its the best I have so far, so....
Here's to the laughably lamentable world of teenage angst-poetry! *clinks glass*

2004-07-16T05:31:00.000-07:00

What in blazes is Real Mutha Fking Madrid up to??
Can they bloody leave their Beckham-stained paws off Viera?
Dammit Arsenal really need a bigger team and more money

2004-07-13T07:51:00.000-07:00

7 weeks to the prelims and I am still enmeshed in a truckload of backlogged homework.
I can't bloody understand what is the problem with the math and history departments, they think their subjects are the only bloody ones in the whole bloody universe.
So my econs and my lit have quietly gone under the flood of Mussolini and Maclaurin.

To blazes with the darn things! The world of Joseph Conrad and JM Keynes is so much more attractive. But why do I rant about studies? I merely degrade myself to the normal angsty teenager which I must not become. I am made of far superior stuff (I hope).

Ok who am I trying to kid? I am laughing out loud at the inanity of this whole blog. Wahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

2004-07-13T05:09:00.000-07:00

Disgrace

But one day we woke to disgrace; our house
a coldness of rooms, each nursing
a thickening cyst of dust and gloom.
We had not been home in our hearts for months.

And how our words changed. Dead flies in a web.
How they stiffened and blackened. Cherished italics
suddenly sour on our tongues, obscenities
spraying themselves on the wall in my head.

Woke to your clothes like a corpse on the floor,
the small deaths of lightbulbs pining all day
in my ears, their echoes audible tears;
nothing we would not do to make it worse

and worse. Into the night with the wrong language,
waving and pointing, the shadows of hands
huge in the bedroom. Dreamed of a naked crawl
from a dead place over the other; both of us. Woke.

Woke to the absence of grace; the still-life
of a meal. untouched, wine-bottle, empty, ashtray,
full. In our sullen kitchen, the fridge
hardened its cool heart, selfish as art, hummed.

To a bowl of apples rotten to the core. Lame shoes
empty in the hall where our voices asked
for a message after the tone, the telephone
pressing its ear to distant, invisible lips.

And our garden bowing its head, vulnerable flowers
unseen in the dusk as we shouted in silhouette.
Woke to the screaming alarm, the banging door,
the house-plants trembling in their brittle soil. Total.

disgrace. Up in the dark to stand at the window,
counting the years to arrive there, faithless,
unpenitent. Woke to the meaningless stars, you
and me both, lost. Inconsolable vowels from the next room.

Carol Ann Duffy

2004-07-09T07:40:00.000-07:00

Indeed the days are getting messier and nastier. I can't complain about my problems because I see that my friends' problems, especially one of them's, are really really bad.

Today I went to this retarded project work feedback session. Where the wonderful Garmen (Singapore pronounciation of "government") deigns to listen to the voices of the Youth of the Nation.

What an interesting process it was. The students were a bunch of yes-men and pretentious airheads/debator wannabes prissing about their naive little views on how project work was fantastic. The rest were those belonging to the whining squeling category going on about the petty injustices of the whole system. Nobody brought up the macro-policy changes, the long term views, the larger picture. Utterly disappointing.

But the icing on the cake was the woman from the MOE herself. By golly I swear she has testicles. Her voice was deep and manly. And not in the sense of a melodious, dulcet, masculine tones, I mean the sort that you hear from the mouths of East German Olympic weightlifters. Ok not those kind of guttural grunts either, its even worse. She spouted loads of bureaucrat-speak in deep Germanic tones, like "..seeing our future workforce through the myriad economic problems of the 21st century. Project work is intended to give you young people the competitive edge amongst the regional yadayadayadayada" Very, very, annoying. I had to resist an impulse to bash my head on the chair whenever she was talking. It really didnt help that she had that kind of face that reads: "I am anal retentive, my face is my asshole and my asshole is my other, prettier, asshole".
Am I being too mean here? Maybe but she was such a stuck up cuntstick that I cannot help but describe her as such. She was soo blindingly narrow minded that I just cant stop thinking of insults for this epitome of government bureaucrats.

Ok I have wrought enough criticism on a member of the Garmen. I just feel cheated of a whole Friday afternoon and a productive Lit S session with Harris. Good night.