I once wrote on Facebook: My life is a matter of luck and coincidences.
I have no doubt now, after the events that lead up to the climax on April Fool's, that God is real, and he is a film scriptwriter.
Which other profession reserves its sadistic views of life for the pleasure of seeing its' characters suffer?
I thought I got life all figured out. And that the many turns of events that has shaped me into who I was has plateaued. I guess not, and there seems to be more surprises up the road.
I lost a friend, only to have another come in. It'll be just a stroke of luck, if it wasn't because they bear many similarities between each other. The coincidence is frightening. Sort of god's way of saying, "Here, you can have second best!"
I'm not afraid of meeting new people. In fact, this new person is mighty fine. But I yell with frustration to the man who giggles as he plays my strings.
I took the one thing I loved and broke it to pieces. What more do you want?!
I've done quite a lot of things for the past two weeks. Things that I have deep urges to write about. But a book won't do, and I find satisfaction in putting it online for all to see.
But I can't put it up here. Not with my parents wandering around. Or potential employers fishing for background information.
I guess it does, indeed, kind of suck to not be able to express myself fully. Just as a simple hug, an expression of love, could be deemed a major abomination of whatever dogma one follows. Crossing the line, they say.
I found love, in a way. But a different kind of love. It's the kind I would love to keep to myself.
Maybe, one day, you'll find my blood writings online. As a different person. And you'll understand.
And you'll understand what lies behind some of the posts here. Veiled behind the cover of awkward poetry.
The essence of my demise stares me in the face As I pen my thoughts with words misplaced. A world of beauty have I lived with haste A wandering gaze away from truth but a view replaced.
A secret undressed, the mind obsessed but the heart protests. I listened to the words you used on me. And you deny the truth of your words laid on your breasts. A joke as it was, I have to agree.
The seeds of your lives is the beauty I seek. The empty touch of the girls who work I cannot feel. Why can't I put my lips on your cheek. A life of lies I've lived With you it cannot heal.
I'll be staying in camp from today till Friday morning. I'm a heavy sleeper so it's best I stayed in camp so that I won't be late. At least my curfew's at 2359... before the guards lock the main gate.
I turn 21 in exactly a week.
There's a saying that goes,"Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer it gets to the end, the faster it goes."
Twenty-one is a big number for me. They'll usually give a key to the guy on their 21st to tell them that they're a man. Or now liable to be sodomized by the thick arm of the law.
If I could, I would love to finally throw a party... or a gathering... at least for once. Just once. I'd invite everyone I've ever been thankful to meet and we'd mingle and shoot the shits the whole night.
I've never celebrated my birthdays. I keep telling myself I'm too busy. Obviously, I'm only making myself feel better.
But this is me. This is who I am.
I have no cash. I have no ideas. I'm overall a very boring person in real-life. Even my Internet persona isn't exactly something to fancy all about. The best friend I ever had was a QWERTY keyboard.
As much as I'd like to have something big done this year, I'd most probably spend this year like the usual: At home, on the computer, probably surfing porn. I'll occasionally get the usual SMS-es from a couple of guys and get on with life. Once, I had a friend call me up to get him out of debt.
If I could have at least one day where I'm not bothered by aimless pedestrians blocking my way, the nagging of my parents or useless bickering on the newspapers... it's on my 21st.
This will be the day.
The day where I can walk around in the middle of the night in the city with another person. Our hearts in a knot. I will lay myself on that lap to cuddle up and weep. Weep at the joy such a night could bring. When the life I knew has gone and I've reached a place of no return.
Dreams are dreams. And that's where they will stay. I am not a king. And I don't ask to be treated like one. I don't ask for gifts. I don't ask for women. I don't ask for all the money in the world.
I only want silence. For that one day.
No more nagging. No more dollars. No more worries.
All I wish for is to look down that night... only to see your hands in mine.
These roads of life, will I then march with courage.
You'll probably be hearing this again in the next minute... and a few hundred more times later through the day. But I'd like to wish you a great twenty-six ahead. We've never really talked and I was merely that 'fan' overstaying his welcome in your home with that little video camera of mine. Must have been really tough having someone like me floating around.
I don't have much to provide. I'm much of an empty person to think of great gifts to give you.
I've known you since 2006 and you've given me more than I could repay. You brought me into the world of music and I have had endless joy exploring the world of guitars, drums, and gothic fashion. I've seen slices of your life and how you handle them. To me, you were not an idol that I was a fan of. You were a hero to me, at that point of my life.
The day we first met.
You brought me into Dragonfly, in 2007, through the staff entrance and that was the day I recorded and edited a video for you. The band was playing a birthday song in Cantonese and I savored the moment - because that day happened to be mine too - even if the song wasn't dedicated to me.
All my teenage life, I have never held a gathering... nor a party... nor really celebrated my birthday. I wasn't capable, and I never knew anyone who would make that effort. I lived it like it was just another day with a mask over my face.
Silver Wonders concert at Ngee Ann Poly.
But on that year, you were there.
I remember when I entered your house after we got back from the show and the place was dark. No one was around. A moment later, the lights went on and you, Uncle Larry, Auntie Avi, Stacie, your sister... the whole family... surprised me with a little cake with a picture of Doraemon on it. The candles were lighted and all of you sang me a birthday song.
Then you asked me,"Let me take a video for you." and I handed over my camera. It was a such a quiet surprise. But it echoes so loudly in my ears. It's a birthday I cannot forget. And it pains me more to think back that I could ever let our trust down.
You handed me a present. I think it was a t-shirt. I will never know. Maybe God has it in for me - I left it in the cab when I got home at 3am in the morning.
I swear, I searched the whole week for the present, calling the cab line as many times as I could. I never got it back.
All that remains of that day lies in the video tape that was inside the camera when you recorded the whole affair. But on that day, the tape snapped. I never got the chance to put it on playback. Here it lies with a dozen others of my tapes. Nothing else can touch it now.
I'm not ashamed that I've met you, Sly, no matter the flak that I've received. You have always been a great person to hang around with. You were always mindful for what the people around you needed.
Others may see you as a musician... a singer... an idol... but to me, from the bottom of my heart, you will always be the light that shined on those dark years of my youth.
Wouldn't it be so convenient if we could somewhat transport ourselves into the body of the people we obsess with?
If I had just two wishes that would be granted, one, when I die, that's it, no after-life or anything. Two, I'd want to be able to see through the eyes of people.
The closest I could get to this is labeled as "voyeurism". Sometimes I wonder if this is a medical condition. How do you describe a person when he keeps little trinkets of their friends like... hair samples, handwritten math calculations, photos of them through the years that has been dugged out through people who have access to them? I don't know. I think I'm sick in the mind. I might be missing something from long ago. Too long ago that it's buried deep in my subconscious. I need to know what is it!
I'm getting sick of this habit. It harbors obsession and a possessive character. My deepest fear would be having this habit ruin my life just for that few seconds of voyeuristic opportunity. For god's sake, I set up a telescope once pointing towards a friend's place and monitored his movements often. It's a thrill I can't shake off and a natural high.
I sat up from my bug-infested bed and reached around for my phone. I was pretty much still wide-awake and I sent Jayden a text. It was more of a nod towards his direction about the whole issue of him thinking of getting out of course.
I was stepping on puddles towards his company the next drizzling afternoon. My sergeant major was chasing for a tonner and I was there soaking wet in my long 4s after unloading a big part of the armskote into a tonner and handling the trainees as they perpetually gave that blur look. It was there that I saw someone familiar walk out of the company office. It was Jayden and we made eye contact. We communicated via hand signals and I got the message that he OOC-ed. I didn't see him again till just this morning when he had to rush for the chains that hindered my CSM's rover from moving off. There simply wasn't any time to sit around. Next thing I knew, I was in the front seat of the rover going over to Foxtrot, where I spotted Justin massaging his ankle in a dim corner of the parade square, and then met up with Kyle by chance at the smoking point. I kinda like this whole "MMORPG-esque" environment.
Kyle received his posting today, and Jayden has been transferred out to HQ... not sure how long.
I'm spending most of my time now reading the newspapers and sneaking the TV on to watch Channel News Asia... much to the groans and moans of my fellow OOCs. I'm very anxious about the current economic crisis. I'm anxious because I bombed all my savings just the other day on.. let's just say.. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder". I'm also anxious because it might probably mean that all this money everyone's been saving will go to waste when tomorrow's hundred dollars could be worth today's one dollar. I'm anxious as well at the direction the US is going; government versus people. I'm living in a very interesting period of this decade but here I am sitting in the office, shut from the outside world and cringing at the yellowed breath of authority and government.
It's annoying when you have to sneak and peek every single time at the newspapers just to read the news. And I mean real news, not the sports section... or even the "Life!" section. But first-come-first-serve doesn't work here and I'll just have to wait for the next few hours only to have the newspaper thrown across my face to signify the "priority user" is done with it.
I haven't had an intelligent conversation for days until one evening, while I was letting my thumbs rest from a full day of loading magazines for the SAW machine gun, a commander came and expressed his bemusement of my atheist status. I spoke to him about it, and held my breath for that point in the conversation that would allow us to speak more freely, and deeper, on the subject. Never really came, though, and I didn't continue any further.
While other OOCs regaled in their new-found freedom and how great it was to "slack around", I wondered if we were on the same level. I hated sitting around and I hated being eyed at as if I were disabled. I wanted out... a post out. I did a lot of work simply to get the thoughts out of my head. I had a lot of ideas on my mind and the creative juices started flowing. But without access to a computer, a camera, nor a simple notepad to draw on, I resorted to staring at the blank wall. It's pretty much isolation... which in itself is torture.
I walked into the MO's office today and had a little chat with him. I walked out with an Attend C status on the grounds of slight depression. I needed the break, I guess.
That's it. I admit it. I hate this festive season.
There's never been a time of the year that stretches my patience so thin that it'll collapse at any moment.
I don't know why I don't like it. Maybe it's the thing about reaching home and being greeted not by the sweet sound of silence.. or normality... but the irritating shuffling of feet and furniture as my parents (or, mom, more specifically) scramble to tidy the house because some aunt I don't even remember is coming. Then again, that's the thing about me, I have been so detached with my relatives that they become strangers. I don't see it as a problem, really, more like I led my life to a course way off their predictable racial maps. It's difficult to click anymore with my cousins.
I never liked dressing up at this time of the month. I have always found the material very uncomfortable, gawdy and downright ugly. I could never seem to fit into one of those outfits without feeling awkward. My father is the kind who believes in racial supremacy and he likes to mention how smart we all look in these outfits and that we should be proud to uphold our culture. I compare him to a stereotypical bible thumper from the Southern States of America. Yes, it's that bad. It's one of the reasons why I don't like talking to him.
Quite frankly, I love wearing my jeans, my converse shoes and a tight black T-shirt along with some funky belt. Now, I don't see why that would mean I'm "disrespecting" the elders cause I'm not wearing traditional *costumes*. Then, why not let me wear a suit? A lot of people are wearing them now. Oh, because it's too "Christian-y". Wow... I could suffocate in this blanket of ignorance.
Visiting my relatives is another thing. I don't remember how we're related, who the hell did they marry and when the fuck did they have so many babies? I try to tolerate the little brats running around... they're kids... and settle on watching the TV. The recent economic crisis was something I wanted to catch up on, included other world news that I missed while I was in camp. Time is of the essence. Just as the news on 5 came on my dad comes over and changes it to some variety show on the malay channel. I gave him a stink eye but I can't do much because for some reason, everyone wants to watch that damn show that's been on repeat a million times over, every fucking year. Buy the fucking DVD, damn you!
I finally was able to catch the news on Channel News Asia, not forgetting the usual stuffy environment caused by small houses with an unbelievable amount of laced curtains and frilly textiles covering every single window. Of course, I had to sit near the TV just to hear anything since behind me everyone was talking about this and that person and how great he is to "triumph" over "the Chinese".
I was asked a few times about NS and I told them I was in SISPEC. It was the usual filler conversation but one comment striked me hard. An old man of mine asked,"So after this course you'll be a sergeant?". Yes. "Good. You must get it. So that we have more malays being sergeants and not always the Chinese."
I felt like throwing plates. My thought process worked on overdrive. I wanted to tell him off on a variety of different topics. I felt like pointing him towards Malaysia. I wanted to take a person of these two races, compare them, and show him who puts in more work. I simply do not understand this whole racial thing. It's like the black-and-white thing in the US. If white men win, they are discriminating. If blacks win, it's fair. Then comes around this whole "Affirmative Action" thing.
Why can't people see that when a bomb explodes over our heads, no one will be able to tell the difference between who was brown, who was yellow, who was a Muslim, and who was a Chrisitian from all that gooey pink mess?
The amount of ignorance I face every time during this festive season has fuelled my hatred for anything to do with it. I did try to speak to someone about it - my dad, and it has always failed. I figured being raised in a time where being uncircumcised got you the stink eye is resistant to any kind of change of today's more broad-minded and westernised world. I enjoy the company of my friends - a big majority of them are those they call "uncouth". I enjoy today's world and believe in the phrase, "that all men are created equal & independent" by Thomas Jefferson in the DoI.
How I wish if the next person who asks me why I'm an atheist or "have been led astray" that I could just point out to the people in my home, the way the people of this race think, the way they contradict themselves and the way the parade themselves around. I don't need a crutch. I don't need to "follow the masses" nor do i need to be unique. I just don't want to be fed prejudice and discrimination from the get-go.
I picked Joey up early in the morning of the 20th. SISPEC was waiting for us, and we sat in the care having idle conversations. It was a reflection on whatever that was on our minds for the past few days - we were afraid, unsure, and unwilling. It has become a default answer whenever someone asks what are our aims in SISPEC - "I'll try my best." The truth behind those words, though, were something less optimistic.
We came in just on time thanks to and event along Pasir Laba Highway. I think it was the "Biggest Jam in The World" competition. We bumped into Jayden and then waited to check our postings. Justin had already left earlier on and was posted to Delta Coy. Joey went over to Hotel, Jayden to Charlie and I went over to Bravo Company.
A lot has been mentioned online about Bravo Company, and I've heard gossips about the company. Well, after spending a week with them, I can honestly say that Bravo company isn't what others have made out to be. Just a quick glance across the parade square at Charlie and we breathe a sigh of relief that were weren't there.
I came into to SISPEC in a very unstable condition, mentally. There were a lot of things on my mind. I was homesick, or rather, I missed Yankee Company. A lot. And I cannot deny the many times I've almost teared as I sat in my bunk or on the parade square thinking of Yankee Company. Right now, we were exposed to a more realistic taste to what Army training was like. It didn't help when I realised I was the only Yankee Platoon 1 soldier in the entire company. A quick look at Jayden and I saw six other Yankee Platoon 1 guys with him. Loneliness crept in quickly.
I started the first day with a status from a specialist (Attend B, light duties) and it ends on the 3rd of the next month. I thought that's good - maybe I could start SISPEC slowly.
Training wasn't tough. At least, it wasn't that they told you to do a hundred more sets. It was more of having different training sessions one after the other. We were given a lot of talks and lectures on a variety of subjects and distrubuted materials to read up on. I find them very interesting. Every night I would spend a lot of time in the dark after lights out to read the materials.
Being on status meant sitting around doing the usual menial work and sitting in one place either day-dreaming or having empty conversations with other status-es. Soon enough, I started having a lot of thoughts in my mind. It didn't help and I became mentally worn out as the days went by.
I think it's been made known by other of my consideration of getting OOC (out of course) from SISPEC primarily because of a medical condition. It's sad when I think about it. Back in Yankee I always liked getting down and dirty and donning on my SBO attire complete with my trademark knee and elbow pads. I took training seriously and had the ambitious goal to enter OCS.
But then, here I lay, on the cold hard floor with water pipes leaking over my head, watching my company training on the parade square. It's demoralizing when you have this major urge to stand up and fight but reality sets in and you find that your body doesn't allow it to happen. It hurts more when all your life you've looked forward to being a proper foot soldier.
Loneliness drove me to a slight depression and I found myself walking around aimlessly on the ground floor of the company just reading bits and pieces of paper on the walls. There was Charlie with the biggest number of Yankees and every one else in other companies had someone they knew in their platoon. Of course, you could argue that I should go ahead and make new friends. I have my personal reasons and opinions, and if I were to say more about it, I could be chased after by the authorities for being too honest.
I finally met the Yankee guys from Charlie in the cookhouse. My eyes lit up and I finally was able to speak. The meeting didn't last long and I had to leave. I remember feeling so motivated to carry on. Maybe it wasn't going to be so bad after all.
It didn't really happen, and I was sent over to another cookhouse because of "administrative matters". It was good in a way, I could meet up with more Yankee people at the other cookhouse. I met up with Justin, Kyle, Derricks, Faizal, so and so forth. I couldn't be much happier.
Apparently, though, that wasn't the case. I was bugged out of my mind of something and it didn't go away. I ended up in a worse state that I began with. I wanted to speak to the commanders but there simply was no time. There was no one to turn to to speak about my problem - I'm on the road to OOC-ing and down PES-ing but I still wanted to fight and train.
I weighed every single pros and cons of staying in and OOC-ing. I wanted to get into Combat Photography. But I still wanted to go out-field. I still wanted to be SAW Gunner. I still had MDC on my mind. I still thought about Justin in Delta fighting for his place in OCS. I thought about Nicholas training in SAFTI. I thought about Sgt. Lyndon's little gift for us the day before POP - an IPPT Gold badge. I dream of the day I can sew that badge onto my uniform. I was tied between fulfilling pacts, promises and hopes, and doing something meaningful for my future.
I remember it was Thursday night, the lowest point I've ever been. I sent Sgt. Lyndon an SMS that read, "Could you take us back to Yankee?"
After that was a chain of SMS-es between us. Sgt. Lyndon did what he always did for us; acting as a leader. He told me to move on. Things like this happen, and that's just the way it is. Of course, I knew that, but having it being told by someone else hit me hard in the head. Maybe...
Justin then called and we had quite a conversation regarding the other guys. It was just the way it was - everyone was unmotivated and thinking of getting out. We missed each other. We missed Rocky Hill. Justin and I then had a more personal conversation and the final tone was a more status-quo-esque "we do what we have to do and we can't do anything about it".
Then, I was pleasantly suprised when I received another call. It was from Nicholas. I wondered how he was doing in OCS and no one has heard from him since. I picked the phone, gladly.
The happiness didn't last long. Within the first few words, I was listening to the tearful uncontrollable sobs of a dear friend. Nicholas was breaking down right there and then. I asked what went wrong... was it the punishments?
No, he said, it was the stress level. I listened in as he cried over how lonely he was there, just across the road. It came to the point he was begging for Justin and me to cross over to OCS.
"Nick, I can't do that. You'll have to hang on for another two months.". A lump formed at the back of my throat as I completed that sentence. Two months. Two months!
Nick then said, "No, I want you guys to cross over NOW!"
Was this real? Did my friend here just lose his mind and sense of reality? My mind flashed back to the days we were in BMT. The little playful things we did and the things we talked about.
I tried to calm him down. Wasn't this what you wanted? You always told me you wanted to get into OCS. Didn't you tell me that, Nick? You got what you wanted, stay in it.
It felt like I was listening to him and he was in hell and wanted to get out. I couldn't help him. No one could help him. I couldn't even bear to tell him that I was on status for the whole week. I couldn't even bear to tell him what the others have been thinking. I said, "Just hang in there. Before you know it Justin will be there with you."
At the back of my head, I knew chances were slim for anyone of us to cross over. That was the harsh reality. Nick is pretty much on his own now, and all we could do was support him over a chain of SMS-es.
After that conversation, I couldn't sleep at night. I was thinking and thinking. Choices. I repeated that word many times over the next day. Choices. Should I carry on with BSLC, just to fulfill a pact Nick, Justin and I made? The risk being hurting my body more. Or should I think about my career? Even so, what are the chances of being put into Combat Photography?
The next day, I told my PC, "I want to continue with BSLC. I want to go to OCS."
His subtle reaction pretty much spelt it all. Chances were small.
I'd like to thank Jayden for giving me an honorable mention on his blog, twice, today. Thanks to everyone for the compliments on the photos and the blog. I'm afraid this post wont have photos of the same standards as before since I'm rushing for bed. You're looking for the previous three posts. Editing's a bitch.
On the morning of our posting results, 19th September 2008, I received two calls from Joey and Justin. I got off my bed, woke my computer up and scanned through my list of BMT friends on MSN. The heat was on.
I won't say we were given a wide variety of vocations. A lot of us went over to SISPEC. The others had vocations like Armour Driver, Engineer, Recce, Sea Soldier and so on. I think one of them had "Armored Driver". At that point of time, it didn't sound so bad. I'd love to be an armored driver.
I logged in to check my posting. There you go - it was SISPEC. The feeling was... how should I put it? My reaction was more of a 'meh' than an 'OMG!'. Justin called me and we talked from then on.
We learnt who were the four in our platoon who got into OCS. Nick was one of them. I was happy for him - he wanted to go in. He wanted to go in, but thought he couldn't make it. And that was the confusing part. I met him later that day and he had that 'meh' reaction as well.
Justin was a different case, though. "I think I've crashed and burned already man." He told me that over the phone.
Reality hit us all pretty hard that day. It was an annoying reality. A few people called me that day and the conversations were all the same. We all debated on why Mr. Asshole got into OCS, why the other person with a better heart for others became a man. We debated, and tried to reason, and came to a rough conclusion to everything. It wasn't so much of the accuracy of the conclusion that mattered - we just needed to calm our anger.
I met up with Nick in the afternoon at Bukit Batok. We were meant to go over to Sentosa where there was a gathering but it didn't happen. One thing led to another and I found myself in his house.
Again, things weren't settled yet and we hung around his window, smoking and drinking, as we talked about things that mattered most to us. I have a feeling, though, that we were both afraid of the future.
Personally, I'm afraid of training now. During the course of BMT I had endured and experienced quite a few things that I would call "weird". It's not really a good sign, and I'm afraid my body doesn't allow me to excel to the point I want it to. It sucks when you're a man and you can't even hold yourself up.
We moved on to town again and Justin hooked up with us over there. Nick left, and I had another honest talk with Justin. It's sad to see him trying to build himself up again from the morning news. He pretty much settled on, "Let's see how it goes."
That night we had a round of LAN at Cyberdome under Meridian. Junior joined us later. I needed something else to think about. Call of Duty 4 didn't work that well and soon things got very down.
We gathered for a while after the game and caught up on Junior's recent trip to Genting with Joey, Daryl and Wei Ming. I remember Nicholas standing there and I felt really proud of him. There really isn't much to it - we just went through BMT together. All the nights we lay beside each other talking about our dreams... it became very emotional.
Before we split, he stood there, waving. I knew he had more to show than just a simple twiddling goodbye with his fingers so we opened up and exchanged hugs. Finally, maybe, this was the end. OCS and SISPEC, we have heard stories and we knew we'd be different after it all. Even now, some of us have turned single. When Sgt. Lyndon spoke about how difficult it was to keep relationships while in the Army I didn't believe him that much. But I guess it is part and parcel of NS life. Women may or may not understand the things we go through. Even my father, who has never served NS, doesn't understand. We're having fun, but it's the kind of fun where you're also watching behind your backs every now and then.
I met up with Uncle Jimmy the next day for a job. We were involved with the opening of the Kallang Leisure Park and had some wire work to do. Even he noticed that I've changed, if only a little bit. He was always the one who gave me advice and guide me to the correct path.
He then said, "I can't always be there to guide you. I know you are the kind who must have someone to lead you. But I cannot. I'm not your father and if I were to treat you like my son, that'll be wrong on my part. I have a son of my own."
That night I slept right away. I was awake since 7am this morning. I wanted to pack my things for SISPEC but only managed to finish at around 11pm. I really didn't feel like going. Maybe it's the lack of motivation, or I had a different objective already that goes beyond NS; my career.
From here on starts a new chapter of my NS life. I won't be blogging about it like I did for BMT. Not after the previous incident with the authorities. Instead, I'll keep it all in a hidden place just for keepsake. That's just me, if I don't write or take photos about it, I will forget. I don't think I'd like to forget anything from times like this.
Ten days since we passed-out. I finally met up with Nicholas a few days ago. It's the first time we hooked up again after he disappeared after the parade.
It's been a hellish week. Not because we're rushing... but because we're rushing for no reason at all. We're neither here, nor there, unable to pursue our dreams nor unable to sit back and relax. Everybody's anticipating their postings which will be out tomorrow, Friday.
I spent the week sitting in front of the computer, my chair wet with the humidity my dirty ass creates. I played Armed Assault for hours on end, kept up with the current Internet news and trends (I caught the stock market crash a day before it came out in our local news.) and had a go again at website design and building.
As the days went by I became very anxious and fidgety. Staying at home was a bore - I had my mom nagging me to clean my room and my dad calling me every other hour telling me to remember who God was and how magnificent He is. My field pack, LBV, helmet and duffel bag lay across my room, opened, but still stuffed with zip lock bags containing my clothes. I dressed up and went out.
I caught with some of my old friends. I can't say I looked forward to meeting them. We've come to a point where we have to admit that we're entirely different and stubborn. It was the usual yada-yada-talking-amongst-themselves all over again I didn't bother much. My fingers were itchy, though, and I had this itch to spend - Spend all the money I had.
I took cabs to and fro home and town, bought coffee from those cafes, bought a new cap without trying it on and walked over to Borders at Wheelock and bombed a wad of cash on books like "The Dummies Guide to Dreamweaver CS3". Then, of course, take a cab home. My legs were tired.
When I met Nicholas, I bluffed him into thinking I broke my arm against my room door on purpose. I don't know whether that actually rushed him to come down. I think not... I waited over two hours for him. Bastard.
I was looking for clothes, and he was sporting enough to bring me a couple of rounds around ORCHARD-FUCKING-ROAD. Seriously, what the fuck?
I did saw some clothes that were nice. As he showed me more and more jeans and shirts I came up with ideas for a new image I'd like to adopt. Back in my head, however, I knew I couldn't buy anything that day - I was broke from the days before.
Justin came along after a while and he's been up with a few of his own things. Just chillin', he says.
Of cigarettes and alcohol. These two things accompany many soldiers in their free time. Or maybe not so free time. In any case, these two have been my best friends since I passed out. I seem to have smoked a lot more than usual. Nick and I talked about it. We kinda figured out it was because we've been controlled on our smoking for the past three months. I mentioned there were times I didn't want to smoke at all when there was a smoke break. I could do away with it, but it was a fucking smoke break!
Freedom! Outside in the civilian world - Freedom! And we light another one up. Our eyes look from the corners in an arrogant manner as we flick open our boxes and twirl our lighters. We're free from rules! Free from regimentation! We shall light this stick to celebrate! And then another stick, and another. It doesn't stop.
I wouldn't have thought much about smoking if it wasn't made so obvious to me the whole time in camp.
Joey and a few others left for Genting the last weekend. That gave me good reason to hang around the house. I really didn't feel like doing anything. Uncle Jimmy, even him, the guy whom I respected so much, I didn't even bother calling. I know what he'll say - I've gotten lazy.
Maybe I have. Or maybe I'm tired. Or maybe I'm too involved with something. I don't know.
I met up with Daryl, an old friend of mine from FSV, and he drove me down to Paulaner for a swig. Nicholas was supposed to come along but I think he had more important things to do at the last minute... like tea-bagging his water bottle.
The world couldn't have been better towards me than the time I got into Daryl's car. It was an overwhelming sense of familiarity. That whole night we became what we were - young adults. We drove around Singapore (he got lost), ate at Jalan Kayu and to top it all off, he played a CD, set at random tracks, and the two tracks it played were Guns and Roses' Sweet Child O' Mine and Paradise City; part of the album that actually got me through the lame and boring nights in the bunk at Tekong.
By the time Paradise City ended, we were infront of my place. No more speeding down the highway, no more music blasting out of the car, no more ferocious winds blowing into our eye sockets. I bid him goodbye and got out of the car. It was back to normality again.
Kwang Wei entered NS on the 15th of this month. It was a Monday, I think. I woke up in the afternoon, way past 12pm. A big no-no. I checked my phone and had a message from him.
His message hit me in the face - he was serving his BMT with Yankee Company!
An unexpected rush went over my entire being. I felt like screaming it out to the whole world. I felt like gathering people on the streets and getting them into a circle and sing the "Yankee Boleh" cheer. Even as I was bathing I couldn't stop giggling.
The image of Yankee - of its bunk, company line, sergeants, they kept coming back and I giggled with pride. I called Kwang Wei over and over for a few days but never was answered. I sms-ed Sergeant Lyndon about the news. I finally did get Kwang Wei after Paulaner and I spoke with him at lengths about wherever he was now. He's in Platoon one as well, but in section 2. He's sleeping on Faizal's bed, the guy with the fastest SOC timing in our platoon.
I went further to ask who was sleeping on my bed. I told him by rifle number, its serial, and where Justin slept. I knew it was pointless but I kept telling him to pass on the message to the people who will take over my rifle and my bed and Justin's rifle and bed. I told him everything about every single detail about my rifle. For a moment, I thought I really did miss my rifle.
When Nicholas heard my story he chipped in (in between my stutters, no less) - we don't miss Yankee because of "Company Pride" or any of that. We don't live for the sake of others. Nicholas said we probably miss the smokers and the good sergeants and the environment. Probably. I think what we missed, though, was the daily routine and regimentation. It's been ingrained into our body clock that, I, at least, feel disorientated every morning when I wake up at home.
Maybe I should stop babbling on. I've lost the point of this entire segment.
As the days to our posting, our next goal, came nearer, I spent more time with Nick... only because the fucking dick ditched us the day before. I honestly wanted to leave him hanging this time. Then again, maybe this might be the last time any of us would ever meet again.
We went over to Zouk for their usual Mambo Night event. It's becoming less Mambo now and more generic-clubbing-music. They added new beam lights. It's cool and all but the place is too bright now to go nuts. Nick, Jarrell (MCM guy, we met before in school),Paul (MCM, don't know him, but is Sze Aik's platoon mate) and I spent about half an hour tapping our feet on the dance floor occasionally getting right into the middle in hopes we'll get high with all the bodies around us. It didn't happen, not even after a couple of drinks. We bailed for a couple of sticks and that was pretty much our night. I wasn't happy, to say the least. I wasn't satisfied yet.
Nick then came up with the idea to play LAN over at the Meridian. I had some fun there kicking his ass in Call of Duty 4. I shouted and jeered. The mood died quickly after that and we had supper at a place nearby.
We all talked about Army, again. Nick and I listened in to Paul and, I don't know, it made me miss my BMT. I still believe we haven't gone through a lot... but this feeling was overwhelming. We finally picked up our stuff to go home. Nick and I looked at each other.
He always made this sick joke (maybe it wasn't even a joke) that this was the last time we'll see each other. I got quite annoyed at that idea and I mocked him for saying things like that... it's not the last time!
Back of my mind, however, maybe it was. Maybe. I recalled the times we did random things to each other. Like the time I was minding my own business with Kyle and Nick comes over with the cheap-ass SAF shaver and proceeded to shave my legs. Or the couple of times I came over to his bed and we'd lay together and have random emo-talks about our dreams for the future. The night ended with us sleeping on the same bed. I'm thankful enough no commanders caught us sleeping together (almost did, though. Close call.). There was one morning where we woke up a bit later and when we falled in for 5BX a few of the other guy came over and asked,"Were you sleeping with Nicholas last night?"
Great, now I have homosexual tendencies.
Before we left Nicholas waved goodbye to me. I said bye and he extended his hands for a shake. I just knew what he was about to say.
So I didn't extend my hands out. I told him,"I refuse to shake your hands. I won't even acknowledge it. This is not the end."
With that, we split. Next week we'll be all over the place attending to our new units. It's a new chapter for all of us... and deep in my heart I hope we can enjoy each other's company as we always did for the past three months.
Was it... three days? Three days since I passed out.
I think we all had big plans of relaxing and partying after Wednesday. I can't say we didn't execute it, but we did. We smoked when we wanted, drank however we wanted and wore whatever the fuck we wanted. Finally, we were civilian again!
We weren't.
We went over to Daryl's place that Wednesday night. I brought over my 360 and we planned to get high on drinks. It didn't take long for me to fall into a deep sleep. I hadn't slept at all since the parade and drinking games never made much sense to me... God knows why I participate.
I was woken up at seven in the morning by Paris, Daryl's dog. It was cold and I found myself on wooden panels - I realized I spent the night at the balcony. He lived on the 22nd story.
I finally did get back home at around five in the evening and within the next hour I was out again to Outdoors beside Centrepoint. I was plagued by cough and flu since the 16km route march and I haven't been saving up much but I still took cabs. I cannot argue enough how right it is for us army boys to take cabs. Maybe it's the kind where transport has always been provided for us in the Army or that we're always in this sense of rush whenever we're back outside... am I alone on this?
My sister called me out that night to watch a couple of stand-up comics. Admission for me was free and pretty much everything I ordered was paid for by someone else. I don't know, I was still on a hangover from the previous night and needed a lot of sleep. If you had ever lived in a blur...
It's a few more days left before we get our postings. I haven't seen Nick since Wednesday. We had a plan to go over to Geylang to find some cake. A few days from now a few of the guys would be off to Genting for a holiday. I wonder where the rest will be. Where will I be? So many questions. So many uncertainties.
I graduated from BMTC1, Yankee Company, on the 10th of September 2008. My buddies might remember how unsatisfied I was as BMT came to an end. I think this picture sums up my feelings pretty well after the parade. At the end of the day, none of us went through BMT alone. These were the people I fought with, teared with, cheered with and trained with.
The Platoon One smokers.
Top Row from Left: Ah Boon, Junior, Kyle, Justin, Audi, Helmie, Joey.
Bottom Row from Left: Joseph, Derrick, Wei Ming, Sean Daryl.
Nicholas isn't in the picture, though.
What happens days after that, months after that, years... whether or not we'll still be in touch or slowly dwindle away, I have no idea. I will have fond memories from Yankee Company, though hazy as it may be.
The pictures from that day may seem insignificant to outsiders, but as I look through them they speak a million words. Thank you, Yankee Company.
I ran into some problems with the authorities last week because of my previous posts on NS life. That, of course, explains why they're missing now. I can only hope I've entertained a lot of you for the past weeks. What's going to happen in the near future, I have no idea. It's back to old school journals for me now. Btw, Nicholas was awarded Platoon Best Recruit. Congratulations, faggot! :)
It's been a week so far. I haven't gotten much sleep since the last week as we prepared for our performance... no, wait. I shouldn't talk about that either.
In any case, I went over for an audition with MDC (Music and Drama Company) as both their artiste and technician. I had to sing, act and dance. Well that few hours confirms the fact that I can't dance. I handed over my portfolio to the interviewer and that started the ball rolling. I think I did good.
I'll be passing out this Wednesday. BMT is finally over, and I have to write a reflection on it. I don't feel happy nor nostalgic at all as BMT nears it end. That sense of accomplishment... I seem to be missing it. Joey and Justin and I.. we talked about this before. I have forgotten my first day in BMT, the training, the events that happened. It's like, somehow, they were nothing significant.
I have already forgotten some of the people in my platoon and this ones I describe them as 'invisible' - they are there, but you don't see them. At the same time, I regret not noticing some of them earlier on. It's too late to make new friends now. Of all the things I remember about BMT, are the few people that hang around every now and then. And even then, I don't remember what we did. I only remember the feelings. Must be something I've been smoking.
I walked around the city alone yesterday. I have a new baby now... a Canon 450D. But I didn't spend the time snapping photos. Instead, I was in cabs just going to random places in town. Along Clarke Quay, River Valley, Chinatown. I was bugged by something, I don't know what. I've been smoking a lot more than usual but I keep feeling I left something undone. There wasn't a closure to something.
I thought once I had my first DSLR it'll take my mind of things. I didn't really help and I only managed to spend the rest of the night fidelling around with it and jumping back on aimless photoshopping. I didn't feel like a 'soldier'... I felt free. Even if it was just for a night. The more I discover new things, the more restricted I feel.
My things from the last book-out aren't even unpacked yet. I wanted to give my field pack a wash this weekend... meh.
