Category: The milestones

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  • Of Paris and Passing

    Of Paris and Passing

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    I’m in Paris now. The apartment, easily gotten via Airbnb, is cosy (read: small) and even has a loft.

    Hours ago, Yirui and I headed to the Embassy of Singapore in Paris to offer our condolences to the late Lee Kuan Yew.

    The premises were foreboding, with great black gates hiding all view of the small compound.

    We hesitated for a while before I stepped forward to press the small doorbell. The intercom chirped and a French-accented voice greeted up.

    “Hello? ”

    “Hi, we’re Singaporeans. We’re here to pay respects to Lee Kuan Yew. ”

    It sounded weird, but we were allowed in and an old suited Singaporean man pointed us to the main door.

    The building had high ceilings and not much else. A upper-middle-aged woman received us warmly, and all I could think of was how much I needed to meet another Singaporean.

    The room with the book of condolences was emptier still; aside from pictures framed on the walls, there was a table in the centre which held a vase of white flowers, the book and a framed picture of Mr. Lee, subtitled Mr. Lee Kuan Yew 1923-2015.

    Somewhere in the midst of my condolences, I wrote that “My words are unsure and my adjectives weak.”

    And why wouldn’t they be?

    I’m stuck between travel companions who hate each other and I’m burnt out. This trip of a lifetime is becoming a disaster that I’m stuck with!

    Why do trips always turn out this way?

    I’ve 20 days to go, fuck! Give me strength to find happiness where I can’t.

  • ORD LO

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    We left the camp, toting huge overstuffed bags with items of varying shades of green. First thing we did was to head to a Starbucks (“what’s your name?” “Call me ORD LO.” didn’t turn out so well after all)

    I was devastated for the few nights leading up to the big 030315, sinking my attention into work like sweeping the parade square and ordering people
    to load stores onto tonners to distract myself from the eventuality.

    Anyone can be a hypocrite; obviously I hated it in BMT (and the first half of NS) when every commander was tyrannical and every day was nothing but sweat, sun and aches all over. (I asked my then-sergeant once “do the aches ever go away” and he looked really sad as he had no answer) But at the end of it all, we’ve all been in this depressing pit in the ground for a year and 8 months and that’s gotta mean something.

    Cookhouse food that got better after we returned from Seletar, and even better still after we returned from Thailand; the evening after the CO COC when there was a freeflow of beer and everyone got drunk; that time we kiwied the parade square on all the dirt-stained spots, and the retard of a sergeant had to dismiss us when he realised that rain would fix that problem way better than a different shade of black would.

    That time I joined you in training and we ran past all the Concertina wire, you yelling encouragements while I felt simply infinite.

    And that other time we sat at the pull-up bars one Sunday evening, talking the night away as the others booked in at more sensible timings.

    And perhaps when I saw you alone in the corner, and asked, “Hey, would you kind of want to keep in touch? After all this?” I never really expected you to smile or even say yes, because… I’ve this thing with my confidence.

  • 2015

    2015

    As I’ve done for the past 2 years, I headed down to the ArtScience Museum to watch the fireworks again.

    Fireworks aren’t ever the same in photos or film; you can’t replicate the fantastic shockwaves from each blast nor the chorus of the human spirit, crowds thousands-strong, joyfully yelling in unison. You’ll miss out on having a smile filling from the showers of brilliant sparks, so close, it’d be like golden sand spilling between your fingers.

    The claps and booms were seemingly unending, but when it finally did, the jostling crowds and long journey drifted my mind and body lost once more.

    (more…)

  • Post-Thailand

    Post-Thailand

    [18 Nov 2015]
    I’m alone in the house, awaiting a package which I lamely arranged to be sent today, despite the fact that I was supposed to head out with a few friends for lunch.

    I miss Thailand.

    Usually, long times spent cooped up with dozens of other guys would result in both homesickness and arguments; neither of which actually happened.

    The weather decided to introduce itself with 3 days of intermittent showers, most times lasting no more than a few minutes, but with once lasting way into the night like the white noise of radio silence.

    My bunk, on the second floor, was a 50-metre long corridor split into 3 sections through the long-side: beds and lockers both on the left and right and an empty passageway through the middle, which were all shared by either 72 men or 100 men which the doors on both sides claimed in conflict.

    Much like in Jurong, I took pride in waking up the first every morning, setting my alarm (John Cena’s “The Time Is Now”) 10 minutes before the reveille timing so that I could pop down to the toilet (a separate block from the bunks), have my teeth brushed and face washed, come back up and turn the lights on to wake everyone else up. Every time I woke up, I’d look down the long aisle to see at least 31 other cadavers, still against cool fluorescent glow of the toilet block’s lights.

    The first couple of days were spent in denial / recuperating / doing stores, also termed as the admin phase (gonna steal Chin Ying’s terminology)

    [2 Jan 2015]
    People were adjusting to the new lifestyle of having to hand-wash clothes, and missing the canteen which had the most fantastic of food (which would numb our desire for canteen food in Jurong Camp months later). I say “missing” as the commanders erroneously allowed everyone to spend much of the first afternoon in the canteen purchasing a SIM card, which meant that everyone gorged themselves silly on wondrous Thai food and drinks.

    Me? I sat alone, benumbed by the thought of those I respected smoking and whilst gulping down Iced Cappuccino in a daze. This would be a trend for the next few times we visited the canteen.

    name tag
    Had a name tag made for my brother

    There were 2 brands of SIM card, TrueMove and AIS. Ray Yan, who’d arrived at Sai Yok Camp a week before, told me to purchase TrueMove as he was using AIS which was slower than molasses flowing uphill in January. I had to ask him several times about this due to my numbness and magical ability that day to lose all concentration once he mentioned the third word in any sentence (sorry).

    Unfortunately, as I would find out later, everyone who just arrived had bought TrueMove which meant that AIS was freed from its shackles and TrueMove became the new dial-up modem of this camp. Whatsapp messages took 2 minutes to transmit, media took 2 hours and Instagram was a luxury for those whom were willing to wake up at 2AM to browse it.

    Beyond the first couple of days were preparations; stores had to be moved, sandbags were to be filled and…

    Ah, whatever I’d say would be kind of pointless seeing how nobody really cares and that I’ve written it down mostly in my little Moleskine.

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    This picture’s of a checkpoint we journeyed by on the fourth day as part of a navigation exercise. The locals were friendly and the food (coconut ice cream and Pad Thai) was ephemeral. There was a point where we set off from a checkpoint and bashed through a forest, a river (which I fell into, obviously) and at least 2 farm plots before reaching the original checkpoint again. Fond memories.

    Every night when we returned to our bunks after dinner (excellent, by the way), we would find quite a few flying bugs on our beds which became a non-issue by pretty much the second night.

    There was a night where I laid on my bed and watched Perks of Being a Wallflower which was a huge stress relief and made me feel empty for ages afterwards. It was raining, and the breeze tickled my toes.

    Beyond the admin phase was the training phase which condensed all we had learnt into 3 days of retraining.

    There was 1 final day of “recovery”, which meant doing stores for the whole damn day (imagine winding up 300m worth of wire 12 times). I got to go with the tonner to the vehicle sheds to attach a trailer, which is more fun than it sounds. I also got to play with puppies!

    Then came the actual exercise.

    Deployment was done in an open field. I nearly suffered from a heat stroke, kids ran about selling drinks to us and life went on.

    The rest was interesting as it was mostly detached from what we had learnt from the past 1 year or so of being Combat Engineers. I don’t think I’m allowed to say much on a public platform as this but… let’s just say the other platoons did what they were supposed to do and we were allocated all the explosive tasks.

    I remember sitting alone at the base of Eagle Hill, under the glorious full moon, fiddling with wires and blocks of explosives and tossing bamboo leaves all over as camoflauge.

    I slept on the grassy ground near the detonators and woke up to a crimson sky and birdsong. From the utility pouch of my vest, I retrieved some biscuits and started munching them, amusedly being reminded of a scene in Fury. (As I always do in my usual dreamy state, I associate cool movies with what I do in life)

    Later on, the explosives went off without a hitch and the shockwaves were an odd relief, like a bugle that indicated that all was over and I could relax.

    After the final detonation of another charge 2 days later, I wrote a quote from Fury on the walls of the bomb shelter: “A man is only as strong as the man beside him.”

    I like to think that it’s gonna inspire someone in the future, at least more than the 300 ‘ORD LO’ messages scratched around the bunker as well.

    When it all ended, heat rashes merely prickled my skin and we spent an afternoon dragging stores back to the containers and cleaning ourselves up.

    The next 2 days were simply packing what was left and drinking ourselves silly in the evenings.

    The final day was spent waiting 3 hours at our void deck with our duffle bags for the buses to arrive, going to the JEATH war museum and going to the airport.

    Before we got on the plane back, I had dinner with my #ULTIMATEFANS friends at the airport; an all-day breakfast, which included a cup of coffee, milk, orange juice and a plate of bacon, salad, bread and eggs, together with a mug of Singha. This meant that I had 4 cups of drink and a table full of mockery. Who cares, I got tipsy for the third night running.

    On the plane, I got a playful punch on the arm, and I smiled for the last time in Thailand.


    [29 Jan 2015]
    There’s much that I’ve left out, about the smokes and the scorn and the but my mood isn’t like that right now.

    33 days to ORD and I’m weirdly not looking forward to it…

  • Twenty

    This date begs for a blogpost commemoration, and my mind unspools unevenly in response.

    I had blissful day out with friends that were separated for slightly too long. Nothing had soured nor aged, and everything will be good in retrospect.

    I don’t have much time to say enough now, and when this goes live, I’ll be laying, as spread-eagled as the too-small bunk-bed would allow, writhing in sweat and discomfort.

    There’s so much I could write about; the sorrow at my head’s largesse; the broken earphone jack; the shirt I always wanted to get; the primal glee a trampoline park provides or many other things.

    Add something new to that list: the incandescent smile, with beautifully creased eyes, and the wave I received a few hours ago. Made me blush for ages.

    I’m twenty and I feel no different!

  • INTERMISSION I: FP EGR PNR

    I hope I can finish this before the buzz wears off. (no that was not what she said) That glass was horrible.

    ———–

    You are posted to: 30SCE

    Your vocation is: FP EGR PNR

    ———–

    Every 20+ weeks, a phenomenon in Singapore happens where a 3,000-strong mass of hairless adolescents throw their jockey caps and slack for 5+ days. At the end of this period, a haunting groan echoes throughout the island at precisely 1000H, when they receive their postings.

    Where has my happiness gone? Seems like it can be found at the far-West Jurong camp, where I’m due on Monday (and perhaps the rest of my restless days as a soldier).

    I’ve at least 2 people I know who are already/going over there, and I count on Chin Ying’s words that it’ll be much better than it sounds.

    On the eventful (a fast march, pissed-off recruits and no-pissing oh my!) route march, I lamented to my friends about the sadness that was human selfishness, only to receive the wonderful, golden gift of silence.

    My addled brain will now repeat this mistake, albeit to a web-based audience.

    Have you ever truly tried to live in another’s shoes?

    When travelling through a street full of strangers, have you ever wondered what led every one of them to the street? What led the busker to play his guitar so badly on this very street? Is there more to this elderly mother than her calm demaneour? Would this uninterested looking fellow surprise me with tales of his very own life?

    These questions first hit me when I was travelling around China in a tour bus in December, 2011. As the bus trundled up the spiral hills of Xinjiang, I saw an elderly woman walking alongside the road, toting a pack full of firewood. As I laid lazily on the backseat, the mad contrast of our current lives confronted me,  and I started to wonder. Did that woman live in an apartment or a shack? Was she thinking of her children? What was she doing?

    And I laid back, and wondered a little more.

    And recently, I marched past a group of cyclists, and wondered if they knew what we went through for the past 19 weeks. I wonder how my busy friends feel about me now, and whether they’d be much more happy in my footsteps.

    And we’re all selfish assholes aren’t we?

    Whenever a problem comes, we’re quick to point fingers and shift the blame and jump to conclusions and start flames. We never consider the lives of the others and we love to pretend our problems don’t end. Of course, this leads to misunderstandings that should’ve never happened, and as a result, beautiful things end too soon and the honest never really get the recognition they deserve.

    Every conversation starts with a “me” in mind, and whatever the others say are usually heard, but not listened to, until a gap introduces itself. The one that kept mum will spring his mouth, ready to be the next presenter, and this will go on and on until everyone’s exhausted their words and become disinterested. And of course, altruism is but a method of self-soothing, isn’t it? People do things ultimately for themselves; even the most innocent of actions are just behaviours to make themselves feel better.

    Since when have I become so pessimistic? Such a view of humans is definitely overtly in the negative and I do know that I can be easily proven wrong. I’m bloody selfish and I’ve caught myself conversation-hogging a few times too.

    Excuse: We’re all not perfect.

    But… knowing is half the battle, isn’t it?

    I’m not making sense, heh.

    Next: Absurdism; why life is pointless until you agree with that fact.

    And I’m sorry for not sleeping early, as I’d told you.

  • An Invocation for Beginnings (adapted)

    I’m scared. I’m scared that I’m going to fuck this up.

    I don’t want to start, but I will.

    This is an invocation for anyone who hasn’t begun, who’s stuck in a terrible place between zero and one.

    Let me realize that my past failures at follow-through are no indication of my future performance. They’re just healthy little fires that are going to warm up my ass.

    If my FILDI (fuck it let’s do it) is strong, let me keep him in a velvet box until I really, really need him. If my FILDI is weak, let me feed him oranges and not let him gorge himself on ego and arrogance.

    If I catch myself wearing a too-too (too fat, too late, too old) let me shake it off like a donkey would shake off something it doesn’t like.

    Let me think about the people who I care about the most, and how when they fail or disappoint me… I still love them, I still give them chances, and I still see the best in them. Let me extend that generosity to myself.

    Let me find and use metaphors to help me understand the world around me and give me the strength to get rid of them when it’s apparent they no longer work.

    Let me thank the parts of me that I don’t understand or are outside of my rational control like my creativity and my courage. And let me remember that my courage is a wild dog. It won’t just come when I call it, I have to chase it down and hold on as tight as I can.

    Let me not be so vain to think that I’m the sole author of my victories and a victim of my defeats. Let me remember that the unintended meaning that people project onto what I do is neither my fault or something I can take credit for.

    Let me remember that the impact of criticism is often not the intent of the critic, and when I eat my critique, let me be able to separate out the good advice from the bitter herbs.

    There are few people who won’t be disarmed by a genuine smile. A big impact on a few can be worth more than a small impact.

    Let me take the idea that has gotten me this far and put it to bed. What I am about to do will not be that, but it will be something.

    There is no need to sharpen my pencils anymore. My pencils are sharp enough. Even the dull ones will make a mark.

    Warts and all:

    Let’s start this shit up.

    And God, let me enjoy this. Life isn’t just a sequence of waiting for things to be done!

    —-

    The text was originally from the video linked below, by the most talented person called Ze Frank.

    [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RYlCVwxoL_g]

    Day 1, see you in perhaps 19!

  • 18

    It’s such a wonderful, wonderful feeling to know that everything’s been worth it, that I’m the luckiest person on this planet to have met such an extraordinary set of friends.

    I couldn’t be any happier or thankful.

    🙂