Stuff

Endpoint

2011-01-12T00:45:00.001+08:00

Well, I've reached the end of this blog. What can I say. I can never find the stuff I want to blog about, and I end up staring at a screen. No more now.

In a sense, this blog has been a way for me to let out my musings. My feelings. Even now, I still have many unvoiced feelings. Many things which I burn to say or do, but never do. Out of fear, cowardice. A foreboding of bad consequences which may or may not ensue. As would almost anyone else.

But army life has taught me to keep a diary. Plus most importantly, I have God. Wherever I walk, I know that He will teach me all things. And maybe I might even make another blog. But one thing's for sure here...

This marks the end of this blog.

EDIT: Moved! Guess I need somewhere to shout. Click here

Outward

2010-12-14T02:12:00.001+08:00

Where was I..?

But first, ORD loh. Maybe I'll have more time to blog ^^

Anyway.

I have noticed many a time, people (admittedly, myself included!) where people put up a front. They would act differently when with others as compared to, say, when they are by themselves. Discounting performances, play-acting, prank-playing or the like, where people would premediate to entertain (or mock) an audience, people do put up an act for whatever reason, to show people a person different from themselves. And they often do succeed. Initially. But as the facade peels away, so does the person's psyche, as they either scramble to maintain and utterly fail, and fall back into their natural selves eventually, or they give up, and still fall back into their natural selves even faster. Either way, people get disillusioned, feeling like they've been tricked into believing that that person was something else.

Why?
Sometimes people think they are unfit, maybe even inadequate. They think that their peers do not like aspects of their character, and they do their best to suppress them, and then fabricate or emphasise traits which they think will turn their peers on. A generally quiet boy could become a hopping fanatic, jumping and screaming with his OG mates during Orientation camp, when honestly a good day for him, rather, would be to play a good game of checkers with a close friend. Another, more blatant display of this is a boy trying to impress a girl, but I think most of us already know how that story goes.

The above examples of showing a facade were incentive-motivated. By becoming a hopping fanatic, the boy hopes to bond with his mates better, and perhaps even make good friends with them after Orientation. By trying to impress the girl (Being more macho? Haha), he hopes to win her affection. Then there are disincentive-oriented scenarios. For example, when in a board meeting. All the department heads have to exude a sense of knowledgeability and control over their department, even if they may not feel so. If they show insecurity or confusion, their fellow heads will see it as a weakness, and his standing in the board will be diminished. In a cut-throat corporate world, it might not be surprising to see such a person ousted hastily.

What is the difference between incentive-oriented and disincentive-oriented? For the most part, it is often easier to walk away from putting up a facade for the former than it is for the latter. For example, it is easier to not show off to a girl than it is to lose your job. Additionally, in the latter, it is more out of necessity than out of personal gain that the person would put up a show.

If in a world where everyone has differing standards, it is not easy to "be yourself". What then should you do?

As far as possible, steer clear of disincentive-oriented scenarios. Many people find themselves trapped, forced to put up a show. And when it all falls apart, the result is never good. Unfortunately, "being yourself" just doesn't quite cut it in a highly competitive modern society.

The solution to that is to change yourself. Thousands of office workers attend countless self-improvement courses, attempting to become more outspoken, more confident, more charismatic. And many testify to these courses' effectiveness. The danger, however, lies in what frame of mind these office workers enter these courses with. Why do they enter such and such a course? To command better paychecks? To impress the boss? If not taken with the proper mindset, these courses could end up teaching them how to better portray the facade instead of substituting the facade, and not solve the problem at all.

One way to overcome this is to take the lessons and apply them into your daily life. By doing so, you would use what you learned so often that it would become natural to you, and you would not feel like you're putting up an act, suffice to say you're not showing a facade anymore because that's what you really are. If what you learned is generally good, such as responsibility or being considerate (say, for client and family), then the problem is well solved. What if the stuff you learned is specific?

Then it's time to cherry-pick. Decide what you want to learn, and what you do not want to.

Maintain the balance.

It's getting late. Again. Meh.

Inward

2010-11-21T23:41:00.003+08:00

How much do you know yourself?

How ironic that despite living and knowing so many other people, you do not even know yourself. "Oh, he or she's such and such a person, who likes this and that", but yourself, you hardly stop to describe in equal detail. You do not think about what makes you you, because you know you are you simply because.

To you, there is no need to decide what or who you are. You just are. And for the good majority of your life, you will be more than happy to live in denial of that knowledge of who you really are. That is, until someone tells you.

Is it because you are afraid of what you might realize you are? That you may be of a character that you actually openly despise in others? Or perhaps, you realize that your character is not what you envision a generally good person to be.

Or is it because you are too lazy to bother? In which case, you have deciphered one part of you already.

Or maybe... it implies that you have less than complete control over your actions. Having surrendered to an identity which you inadvertently place yourself in the moment you define it. Because you are such and such a person, you should therefore act in such a way? One can say that you would have acted in that manner with or without having defined your identity anyway, but oh well.

As humans we are wired to rebel against restriction, unless a rationale which we accept as valid is provided. Even if that restriction is placed upon ourselves. The answer? We justify our character within ourselves, even if others do not approve. We will say that we are like this because of so and so. We effectively ignore peer opinion by doing so.

Whoops. It's late. More next round.

Forward March

2010-11-06T21:35:00.000+08:00

A chapter in life has ended... for some. I still have one more month.

When I look back at the friends that I have kept, I realise that some of them... are... out of the ordinary. I've made some good friends, some bad "friends"... But most importantly, I learn from each and every one of them.

Maybe it's all about the experience. Perhaps that is what it's all about then. Learning from a mistake is the whole point of making a mistake.

I have a feeling that last sentence went wrong.

Are we?

2010-10-09T22:11:00.000+08:00

Are you sad, O smart guy?

The more you know, the more you think you know. A new idea emerges, and you test it in your mind. You put it through your trials, your mind mashing. Processing. You understand, and pass judgment. And the idea will face either of two fates: acceptance, or rejection.

But what if you do not understand, O smart guy? Just because you are so smart doesn't mean that you know everything. What will you do then, O smart guy?

Will you treat the idea with distrust? Apprehension? Even contempt? Or will you ignore it, comforting yourself with notions that the whole idea is meaningless to you, since you cannot understand it? You are missing out on a great many things, O smart guy.

Or will you be enthusiastic? Optimistic? Hopeful? Will you consider the idea with an open mind, giving it a chance? Then you must be naïve, O smart guy, but you realize your humanity.

That is the first step. Unfortunately, by being optimistic, you are open to tricking yourself. And then you will be mocked. What then, O smart guy?

You must be sad, O smart guy.

Dead

2010-09-25T00:31:00.002+08:00

Haven't blogged for a while.

Less to talk about. Less to expound on.

Maybe things will change when I go to uni.

ORD loh. Coming up this December XD

Wisdom Complimentary

2010-08-29T21:40:00.000+08:00

"I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go." - John 21:18.

Maybe I'm getting old.

Hope

2010-08-13T08:49:00.000+08:00

Well, I guess I did try.

But everyone's busy. Everyone's always busy. But the point is that I tried.

Block leave is ending soon. Must say I've thoroughly enjoyed it. But all good things come to an end, I guess.

4 more months to ORD. Gotta get smart.

Reach

2010-08-08T00:59:00.000+08:00

ATEC is over. I'm grateful for that. Because that means block leave. My whole week is free ^^

Time to mend my contact with the outside world. This... won't be easy.

Time now to see what kind of a person I was before did to my, well, friends in the past. If they think I'm their friend.

No breaks here, but either way, I know I enter His rest. Does any other rest better satisfy the soul?

Anyhow, I must always serve.

Cohesive

2010-07-26T12:12:00.000+08:00

Company is holding some cohesion event today. They probably believe that it will help the company to bond better.

Honestly.

If everyone is having a horrible time, having enough trouble fending for themselves, will one cohesion day solve the problem?

But I'm at home on a Monday. I'm not complaining.

2 weeks and I'll have some... Rest. I think. They never tell us anything, never disseminate any information that may help us decide what to do or what to expect. We make our way feeling for the exit in the pitch black labyrinth that is camp.

But while my body is trapped within that dreadful place, my mind and my spirit will forever remain free. Free from sin and death.

Free to see glory.

What an amazing privilege.

Nightmare

2010-07-15T21:00:00.000+08:00

After 4 days in camp, I return home. But it seemed so much longer.

I doubt I can enjoy an existence where my every action is scrutinized and critiqued. This army experience has been one long nightmare.

I have to go back to camp now. Driving, no less. Hehe.

I pray that the days ahead will be better.

This is Real

2010-07-10T23:05:00.000+08:00

I am who I am. And I can only be who I am.

You may like me, you may not. Even though I would like to treat people equally, I do not. Although I would logically defend myself by saying that people are different, which justifies unequal treatment, I feel that there is no need.

I may work hard, I may not work hard. I may look like I'm putting in effort to others, I may not. And people might disdain me for it. But I know where I put in my effort, and when I need my rest.

Love me, hate me all you want. But I will not bend just because you want me to. I will not change just because you say I should. And the more you push, the more I will push back.

That felt good.

Post 227

2010-06-27T20:32:00.000+08:00

What does 227 mean?

It means I've been blogging too much on the same title. But I think the title suits me anyway. I think I'll continue on this site for quite a long time.

Maybe.

I don't feel good anymore. I thought weekends were meant for me to rest my mind. Not anymore. Not now, anyway.

Makes me kind of wish I didn't pick up driving.

Echoes

2010-06-20T01:02:00.000+08:00

When I see photos of old friends, I remember. They are like echoes, bouncing within a small space in my head that refuses to fill. I remember friendships long dead, their ashes scattered far and wide by the winds of change. And then I suddenly feel sad, like the times we enjoyed together came to nothing. Like they were vanity. I mourn the opportunity lost, and pray to God for others.

Not all friendships last forever. Some will die. Some will carry on. But now with Facebook, they will never be forgotten.

Imagine That

2010-06-13T23:40:00.000+08:00

Imagine that everyone was well-fed. A world without poverty. Where everyone could return home to a well-stocked kitchen, a hearty dinner, and a loving family.

Imagine that there was no divorce. Families would not break up, and childrens' lives would not be shattered. A world where a child would be raised under the loving care of his/her parents, and grow up to be a civic, right-minded person.

Imagine that God manifests himself to everyone in this world. There would be no conflict of religion. No ambiguities, no confusion. There would be no Muslim extremist terrorism. Everyone would know who's in charge of the world.

But if poverty did not exist, more problems will creep out of the woodwork. You won't be hungry. You'll be fat instead, for example.

But then again, who says that a solid family upbringing will build up a child well? To quote, the Bible speaks of Ishmael, a man whose hand will be against all around him. Despite the best efforts of his family. Things happen.

And then again, if you were God, creating humans to be special beings with free will, would you make all that pointless by making them worship you out of fear?

Guess it's not so easy to imagine your worries away, huh? There will always be something.

Sitting here, before this computer screen, I suddenly felt nostalgic. All my JC friends that I haven't seen for months, years even. Most of them have moved on with their lives, but sometimes I like to look back. I hope they look back once in a while too.

I was thinking about something I wrote before (link here). And I realized that I don't write about that stuff anymore. I don't know, maybe people just don't read, or they can't be bothered either way. But.. I'll have to consider revisiting it sometime.

Perhaps someone will take notice this time.

Distressing

2010-06-07T19:57:00.000+08:00

I feel freaking sian. Like there's something wrong, but as to its cause, I cannot identify.

I am returning to camp tonight. To people who I am not so sure are friends anymore. Which makes the feeling even worse. People who are of the world only know the ways of the world, and can only teach you the ways of the world. Which is why I now understand. That there is no communion between me and everybody else in my bunk.

And yet there are more problems. Of the mind, of the heart. Something... closer to myself. It challenges everything that I have purposed in myself from the beginning of my enlistment.

I just came back from church camp. And I think if I am to settle myself, I should try not to let the thought float into my mind's eye too often. But I usually end up wrestling with myself in thought. And then I get all flustered and stuff.

Guess it's not easy to ignore such a cute face.

Meh

2010-06-02T18:34:00.000+08:00

I don't even know what to say.

Had the longest trip ever in my life. And I have never felt lonelier than ever before.

It was a journey unearthing all my deepest fears, my.. inadequacies, my feelings of helplessness, hopelessness, dejection, rejection.

Scouting is definitely not my line of work. I think it's BMT all over again.

It is in a time like this, I think, that prayer is best.

Where I am inferior, God is superior. Where I am superior, God is superior still.

Malu

2010-05-05T01:41:00.001+08:00

Flying away liao.

Cannot even blog for the next few weeks.

Malu loh T.T

I don't always sound like this. But I guess it's kind of amusing to try something new every now and then.

Whipped

2010-04-20T01:05:00.001+08:00

"Do this!" and I do it. "Help lah!", and I help. "Leave me alone!" and I clear out. "Do it this way!" and I follow blindly. "Shut up!" and I clam up.

I have been raised from young to unquestioningly follow orders, reprimanded for infringing on others' personal space, and generally angering the close to heart. In my youth, as any human being would, I fought back to reclaim what I thought was my personal space, that it was my right to do what I did, mostly within reasonable bounds. Alas, I was of lowly mettle and, having realized the monolithic reality before me, copped out, tail between my legs. When they strode straight at me with a thunderous noise, I meekly stepped out of the way, sometimes hoping that I will somehow, someday, become strong enough to stop them cold, sometimes realizing that hoping in itself was futile, and then sometimes hoping that I would go beyond hoping and find a way.

As I endured jostling after jostling, my angsty, vengeful will retreated into embers, fading into obscurity. I was no longer cunning, no longer sharpening the daggers beneath my sleeves. I was meek. I had given up the fight, and accepted the prospect of forever bowing to everyone else, never having a will of my own, never having an sovereign, unfettered opinion. Forever in compliance with everyone around me.

Day after day, month after month, year after year, I have been whipped in the ears. Repeatedly, time and time again. Even though that was as far as the whippings went, I became whipped in the heart. Giving up. Supporting others instead of standing for myself so that I would no longer suffer the lashings that I came to dread. I became weak.

Am I just a whipped dog?

God, please help me find my will. I think I've lost it...

I need it, God. If not yesterday, or today, then as soon as possible. Because there are people who need me to have it with me.

I am tired of opening the box of my life. There is simply too much broken glass to throw out without cutting my hands.

What I Want

2010-04-04T10:08:00.001+08:00

I just realized what a bore my life really is.

I will probably never run into any of my JC friends for the rest of the year. The girls have gone uni, some of them overseas. The guys are suffering the same predicament as I, or also in uni. Either way, they wouldn't spend that much time out.

Aside from those in camp, I don't really talk that much. Often, I cannot find the words to speak, or the courage to talk to someone I haven't talked to for so long. Would they even approach me with the same enthusiasm as I approach them?

The pain of being trapped. The best part is that it's even worse when you realize it, but can't help it anyway.

God, give me something to do. Someone to talk to. Someone to catch up with.

Someone out there... who will care.

What now?

2010-03-29T07:34:00.000+08:00

My friends seem to be disappearing. My scope of work has changed so dramatically that I fear I might not adjust fast enough when I get out.

Is this how it's meant to be?

My former self is slowly dying.

I haven't blogged for another long time. I've had one thing after another that I've been meaning to do, and that takes up the valuable time I have. Every single day is spent pursuing what I want to do, and that's a pretty long list.

Ah, opportunity cost.

No Feeling

2010-03-14T18:46:00.000+08:00

Suddenly I find it so hard to think of things to blog about...

Is it because of army life?

We never do anything that requires intellect. We just do stuff. Put this in the jeep, pack that in your field pack. Drive around, make sure this and that form is filled out. So much drudgery, which we stoically put up with anyway.

When I go to uni, I'm so going to die.

Little Wonder

2010-02-28T01:46:00.000+08:00

Wow. 4 weeks since my last entry. Been neglecting this thing...

Sometimes I wonder why I wish to talk about God. It's a peculiar thing. A wish to spread the Word, yet I have tempered it with a mindful restraint, always laying low until I believe it is time to strike. Alas, the opportunity rarely presents itself.

Sometimes, I myself do not really know the motive. I don't know if I preach to this friend because I find him easier to talk to because he is, say, what everyone may call a Methodist or Presbyterian Christian, or if I preach to that friend because I simply want to be around her at the end of the day. They are imperfect motives, perhaps even selfish. Because I give preference to this person, even if God chooses to save that person, then another will certainly be condemned. But yet...

Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe...

Maybe God is using my imperfect motives anyway. Using my fallible attempts at doing something back for God to advance His Will. Then...

I don't have to worry about motive. I don't have to worry about whether I'm preaching to a girl because I like her, or to a guy because he's my best buddy. I can forget about all that, and just preach.

And I Thank God for it.

But of course, God's always got another lesson lined up with every experience. This is where I should always keep my eyes on the horizon. Always looking out for that next lesson. Because that is how I see the blessing.

Thank God for it.

I was driving my jeep from camp, when I saw a girl. She looked astonishingly familiar, like one of my JC classmates (I think it was her almond eyes. made her look a little cute, I guess). The sight of her stunned me for a split second, and I glanced around to get a second look at her, to no avail. Anyway, I thought it was interesting, since it never happened before, and I talked with my sergeant in the jeep about JC.

His response? "JC ended when NS started."

Well, it wasn't that curt. Anyway.

It's kind of true. JC did end after the A levels. Your friends stay. The memories stay. When I think back about them, the kind of lives they lead, I can definitely imagine the impact God can have on them. How receiving salvation, receiving God's very own Holy Spirit, can turn things around. Free thinkers, "Christians", Buddhists alike. All could see a gigantic overhaul in their lives. Turn their frown into a perpetual smile. And then I think,"Gosh, they could use that."

I think that, THAT, is the reason I want to preach God's Message. Crushes, acquaintances, friendships, they are all means to this. Come to think of it, either way, if I didn't make friends with these guys, I would be making friends with some other guys. It doesn't matter a mite. What does matter is that it is preached.

Isn't it?

And I will certainly have to pray about this. Perhaps this must be some sort of revelation...

Now I'm beginning to sound mad. Haha.

I guess that's what camp does to you. When you become tired of messing with people who swear in every other sentence, play pranks on you at whim, peek on you in the shower (even though we're all still guys.. Sick!), and try to manipulate you in every imaginable way, I guess you try to get away from it all. And this is just one way to alleviate the stress.

Evidently, it's not the best way.

Tiring

2010-01-30T23:56:00.000+08:00

Camp life is... tiring.

I don't know how many things I am neglecting. My health, my sanity, my school knowledge. My family.

The bigshots in camp... They want big things for us. For themselves. And they keep pushing us to work harder. Hold us back to train us some more. Doesn't occur to them, then, that some people just want to ORD in peace. That we have civilian lives to live.

That we're not really soldiers.

But in the end, what can I do? I'm just another minimum-wage conscript. They call the shots, play the cards as they see fit, and all we can do is move along like prodded cattle.

I can only pray to God for strength, then.

And no, Hsu Li, I didn't profess my LOVE. The temptation to inflate an expression of emotion, no matter how juicy it sounds, is never necessary.

2010

2010-01-19T20:58:00.002+08:00

A new year.

Or at least, another another arbitrarily imposed span of time that society accepts as something special, which everyone should celebrate.

Is it that important? All these New Year Resolutions? Wishing each other Happy New Year?

I haven't met up with my friends for a while. Maybe I should find a time...

Xmas Sorrow

2009-12-25T04:44:00.001+08:00

Last time I blogged was 3 weeks ago. Unacceptable on my part, I admit. I apologize to any regular viewers. But then again, my old comp refuses to boot up, the internet on my new comp failed because my stupid wireless adapter spoiled, and blogging on this even stupider laptop is a pain in the nether world, so give me a discount there. At least I haven't left my blog out to die.

Well, guess I'll just have to cover up. Even though it is now 2:30 in the morning. Too bad for me.

Just went to an Xmas party at my uncle's house. This one didn't feel as festive as all the others in the previous years. Or maybe it's because I don't believe in Xmas. After some digging, in light of Xmas having pagan origins, and no mention of Jesus wanting his birthday (It's most likely not even his birthday anyway) to be celebrated, Xmas has lost meaning to me.

No, I'm not trying to siam the part where I have to buy presents for everyone.

My mood then was strange. I know I should have been happy to see relatives I rarely had the opportunity to talk to. Some of my cousins from Australia had come, and usually they only come once a year. I think that bears some cherishing of the time spent with them.

But no. For the first hour, I mocked up an impression of an Anton Emo.

Thankfully, I sobered up as the night progressed. First was Rock Band on a laggy drum set / guitar. Then it became Pictionary. We played until 1:30! That was crazy. But alas, it was too short too.

And as the night drew to a close, my mind moved again to one of my cousins. I wondered if I should "pitch" to her. I had contemplated it several times that night. It would have been difficult to bring the message across to her if certain others overheard; it would set them thinking, and start to enter the... civil discourse with ideas of their own, and break track from a witnessing to little more than meaningless bickering. Since time was short, it seemed logical therefore to save it for another day. Yet, I had a yearning to remain vigilant for signs of opportunity. So look for opportunity, I did.

Alas, there was none. I finally got off at my destination, waved my goodbye, and headed for the lift.

Maybe next time. Next time, I'll be ready.

It's strange that it seemed right for me to pitch only to her. Maybe she's the type I find easiest to "pitch" towards. She reminds me of `Ris a lot. Or maybe the Holy Spirit is trying to tell me something here. I don't know.

Gotta sort this out.

But then again, God knows. Why not ask Him?

Okay, this monologuing thing is making me sound stupid. Unfortunately, this is a blog. Not much leeway here.

With both siblings far far away, I have a little more freedom at home. Yay. Even though home would be very lonely with only 3 people (and 1 dog) at home, my time now is a break from an overwhelming social pressure that is communal living. Especially with people not in the Lord. I daresay that I bordered depression. Overworked, underpaid (as many would cite), and demoralized, my happiness was at an all-time low. And now I can enjoy a brief respite. Praise the Lord.

But through that, I realised that I love my family. I miss them terribly, and I wish I could come home more often. Stupid army.

I miss my mum, I miss my grand-dad, I miss my brothers, and most of all... I miss my dog.

A moment while I fight back the tears, so that I don't spoil the keyboard.

What the heck. That was a lame excuse.

I miss having to sayang my dog when she crawls up next to me below the computer table, shivering in terror from the thunder. I miss playing co-op games with my little brother on the computer - I mean computers. I miss mentoring my big brother on every game which for some reason, he always ends up turning to me for advice even when sometimes I myself have no clue either. I miss my mum's incessant need to remedy my acne using that metal ring of terror. I miss helping my granddad with stuff around the house that his old age hinders him from handling with ease.

I miss it. I miss it all. 5 days a week, I am alive to my family only through a handphone. And the rest of the time... We live on different frequencies. The truth is, you can say all you want, but I have brought my army life home with me. Heck, any guy who lives 5 days a week inside an army camp will bring back their army life back with him. Before, I tried to learn Singlish in the army and keep it in the army. Now, like some virus or trojan, it has busted its way into my whole life, strutting its stuff with great fanfare in every facet. With every book out, I am starting to sound more and more, well, curt and unmannerly.

On a personal level, I don't see a problem. But now when I'm with my family, all I can think about is army, army, army. How we do this in the army, what we do when that happens in the army, what we have in the army. Every single blasted thing is about 'in the army'. It sickens me to know that that is all I know.

People around me tell me that army will teach you a great many things that everyone else pays just to learn. That I am privileged to get the chance to learn. Sorry. There is no point in gaining such privileges at the cost of family.

I know I'm in my house right now, but I still want to go home. God, please let me come home.

*To all you jack-offs contemplating the meaning of this, this is not a suicide note. 'Home' means 'Home'.

I hope this was long enough for an overdue entry.

And I pray to God, that He may show me the opportunity for me to sow, and for Him to grant the increase. Lead me to some soul today, God.

Gosh, it's 4:45am already. Have I blogged too long?

Burnout

2009-12-02T13:40:00.001+08:00

Haven't blogged for a while. Maybe it's time to get into the habit again. The army just had to put me in a 'stay in' job for the past year.

Hm. A year already. It's a terrible year, though. If I could, I wouldn't want a repeat, although it did teach me a lot of things, to say the least. But I'm tired. If I had the choice, I would get an office vocation in the army, but face it, the army won't let me. Suck thumb.

Even though there's always time to rest in the bunk, there's never time for anything except to rest, especially when you can't do stuff privately. There's always someone peering over your shoulder wondering what you're doing, and inciting some form of embarrassment on top of violating your privacy.

Now I really wish I had a 'stay out' job.

Now I had better continue on something else before I get arrested.

Just came back from church camp. What I saw... let's just say that some of it was TV-worthy. On the other hand, the teens were working like dogs, so some might look for relief, others might stop thinking and enter 'Man Mode'. A real drama, really.

I work even harder for church than in camp. Because I get time to sleep in camp.

I hope I can blog longer than this next time.

Pride

2009-11-11T20:10:00.000+08:00

People Rest, I Do Extra.

I have encountered this word often. Pride. They like to use it, and exploit it to motivate us. It is their justification for going the extra mile; to sprint that extra bit faster, to shining those boots until you could look at yourself with them. I do not enjoy its use. Most of us know that it is a lie, but nonetheless perpetuate its use, albeit sarcastically. They're not stupid, at least.

After all, everyone still gets the same meagre pay. Everyone is still serving the same force. And everyone is going through the same nonsense.

In a world governed by rules, there is a world of motivation to do what is required, but about zero motivation to go beyond that. And what is their answer? Pride. A distraction from the drudgery of daily life. An excuse for the man to work harder without expecting return or reward.

Do not mix up pride with passion. Passion is intrinsic. The drive that can only come from within, which does not easily wane or subside. Pride is a choice. To believe that what you work in has some sort of prestige, and work harder to advance that image of prestige. Friends cannot pressure you to have passion. But they can pressure you to have pride.

I'm all out of pride. And I certainly don't have that much passion for scouting.

Does it matter?

2009-11-09T11:43:00.000+08:00

We, as humans, inevitably compare ourselves with each other over everything. Over riches, talents, abilities, anything and everything under the sun. All because our selfish desires of being (or feeling) better than the guy next to us, so that we may feel a little more self-esteem.We will scrutinize, envy, and covet what our peers have, and struggle to achieve or gain it ourselves. Or play the 'sour grapes' card and say "I have my own things. They are better."

Does it matter? Should it matter?

Maybe I'll find more to say next time.

Crunch

2009-10-30T23:52:00.000+08:00

Today, I lived an entire day in an hour. I haven't felt this happy the entire week. To be in the presence of God's people. To be able to be yourself, after putting on a show for the whole week. To stand before God, knowing His promises for you.

Sounds weird, doesn't it? But that's the way I like it. I think most people would not know what I'm talking about...

Army... I've been in it for 10 months. Sad to say, I grow weary. I'm tired. Say what you want, tell me to suck thumb until my ears grow numb, whatever. I'm tired. I pray that something happens. Something that will jolt my army life in a better direction.

...I guess that's all I want for now.

Running Out

2009-10-25T01:10:00.001+08:00

Running out of stuff to talk about. When I come before the computer to blog, once again, my thoughts escape me.

So many pursuits I have. So many things I want. But in the end, all I really need is some rest. I spend 5 days a week stuck in camp struggling to survive, and am forced to spend the remaining 2 days working out everything else in some twisted mad rush. The life of a soldier.

On the other hand, maybe this is the time to work out my independence to some degree. My FTT is finally booked. Perhaps this is time for me to make some headway in driving after long last.

Running out of time too. So much for a content-filled blog. More like a content-free blog. Good night.

Third Time Coming

2009-10-14T09:00:00.002+08:00

Since I can't think of how to sum up my Brunei experience (and since I'll get arrested for writing it here anyway), I'll talk about something else.

.

.

I've been overseas for so long, this blogging thing is becoming... a little difficult. Nothing comes to mind. This is sad.

The odd thing is that I had some good ideas before coming before the computer screen. Now that I'm here, I just want to chill out playing TF2. What am I gonna do now, this sucks...

Oh yeah.

What I'm going to do tomorrow.

Fly off again. My goodness. But at least I'm going somewhere nice, and this time I won't be going with an entire battalion of noisy, rowdy army boys. Plus Penang food is good too.

But in a sense, I'm still going for a mission. My grandfather is there...

'Til then.

Shapeshift

2009-09-24T15:41:00.001+08:00

One form is assumed, and then another. I am slowly eaten by my latter self.

How do I stay good? How do I know what I am becoming? I don't care. I find solace in the knowledge that God knows.

Brunei tonight. Ooh. I can't wait.

Mediator

2009-09-20T22:22:00.000+08:00

When misunderstandings arise, communications break down. When communications break down, more misunderstandings arise. Who can break the vicious cycle?

Enter the mediator.

The mediator controls the medium. He controls the channels and sets the ground rules by which both parties send their messages across. Watchwords like "Tone" and "Take Turns" can go a long way in an effective conversation bringing benefit to all.

The mediator interjects only when necessary. He monitors the conversation, and should it take a turn for the worse, he nudges it back into a more constructive direction. Gentle reminders of the main grievances and agenda at hand prevent the discussion from slipping into redundancy and avoid the trap of pedanticalness.

Most importantly, the mediator is strictly a third party. He does not take sides. Taking sides defeats the purpose of being a mediator. He should not aggravate the dispute.

Such is the life of the mediator. To provide the base so that both sides can tell their story.

But who shall listen to the mediator's story?

Quick Thought

2009-09-13T20:42:00.000+08:00

I only have about 8 minutes, so this is going to be super off-the-cuff, and short.

Why do people play with the system?

Do they see some joy with bending rules, seeing what they can get away with, escaping the wrath of superiors who bear down and tear apart anyone who infringes (or gets caught infringing) the regulations imposed by a monolithic system? Maybe they enjoy the thrill of breaking a rule and not getting caught, like the little boy who filches one too many sweets from the restaurant counter, or the father who passes his 13-year old kid as below 12 to save money on the buffet dinner. Even when sometimes it's not exactly worth the risk to cheat the system that way, they do it anyway because the feeling is worth it.

As if they have freedom.

Freedom. So much talk about freedom, but so little actual freedom.

Ooh. I only took 6 minutes. Wow. I think it's enough.

Block Off

2009-09-09T10:23:00.000+08:00

Well, the work is over, for now. But then again, life is never fair.

I get 3 days of off. The sad thing is that eventually I still have to go back to my unit. Gosh, I like being on course, and I hate my unit. Back to reality...

On the other hand, I have block off.

9 months soldier. I never thought I would see this far. Even though I'm not even halfway through. God help me.

Crashed a uni lecture the other day. I realised how slow an FASS lecture can really be. Suddenly, the idea of getting psychology in NUS doesn't sound so appealing...

I think I'm gonna blog off here.

Return from Mordor

2009-09-06T00:55:00.000+08:00

Alas, I have returned to the Shire. After an arduous adventure through the harsh mountains of Mordor, I am back at home.

That's a pretty drama way to put it anyway.

So I'm back from Taiwan. I missed home, and now that I'm back, I don't feel that much different from when I was in Taiwan.

Praise the Lord. I am finally back home.

Too bad life there was pretty busy. Not much opportunity to witness. I pray that I will have more opportunities.

Goodnight, all.

Starlight

2009-08-18T18:12:00.000+08:00

By some twist of fate, I am suddenly able to blog. Proof that you can send me wherever you want. I'll still be able to get online one way or another.

Taiwan is cooler. And hotter. Well, depending on the time. The sun, unfettered due to the absence of cloud cover, scorches. But the breeze is super cool. It's amazing that the plants aren't ash yet. Got some super long walk tomorrow. Unfortunately, I can't go into details for fear of being arrested.

And...

Well, I think that deserves more time. There's a timer on the computer I'm using. 16 minutes left. Sian.

Still Alive

2009-08-09T03:20:00.001+08:00

Well, I'll be running away from everyone to Taiwan soon. Because the army is making me. Too bad. In view of this, I have decided to blog extra this time to cover up for the weeks I'll be absent from home. So to start, I'll toss some ideas, and write a story of my lovely Saturday.

Oh yeah, I'm still on course, lucky me. PTL.

Have you ever met someone who can do something better than you? For example, I know of people around me who can do 12 pull-ups, or can draw like a pro. And when you see them do what they do, sometimes you cannot help but envy them. But then again, one can always say that they deserve some respect, because after all, they invested so much time, effort and dedication into what they do, and thus have become the pros they are.

But then someone will always come along and seem to do what you took months to be able to do with an almost magical ease. Despite having little experience. Throws away everything that your elders teach you, that success is always accompanied by hard work. That someone can work so hard for so long only to be outshined by some random upstart guy. What do you do about that type of people then? To that, I have no answer. If you have one, do give me a call.

Come to think about it, I'm building a story based on my day's experiences later. If I build a story that's highly factual, I'll be building a cluttered story that seems long-winded, blabberish and largely uninteresting. The obvious solution for most writers, in this case, would be to tear all that away, and substitute it with more interesting material, or abridge the entire thing with a comparable intepretation of happenings occurring within the story. Yet it seems unsatisfactory, almost wrong, to chop off parts of the truth just because people don't want to see it. It's like telling people only what they want to hear.

Reminds me of religion. Many people turn to religion only in times of trouble, or for protection, or for good luck. Once the storm passes, it's life as usual again. It's as if they only see the parts of religion that they want to see. They do not bother with the deeper side of it, instead applying religion as some form of good-luck charm. It's sad.

Alright, I'll leave it at that. Time for the story.

Happiness (Chapter 1)

2009-08-09T03:20:00.000+08:00

Names have been changed to protect privacy. You might know what kind of a story to expect then.

Today, I felt, would be special. Finally, I was going to meet up with some friends. Friends, who for months, I have kept contact with through characters on a phone screen. As I reached the meeting area and loitered around, I wondered to myself: How have they been all this time? Slowly pacing up and down, I downed a bottle of Sprite™ whilst waiting patiently for the two of them to arrive.

About 5 minutes later, the two of them appeared, ascending up the escalator. Jane was just as distinguishable as ever with her sienna-brown hair and almond-shaped eyes (her braces gave her away too). Even though Rick was doing his duty to the country as an MP, he was still as recognisable with his smile, which would narrow his eyes to produce a surprisingly relaxed feel about him. As they got off the escalator, we exchanged gazes as they relaxed the grip on each other's hands to tap themselves past the gantry. If anything, they were just as close to each other as ever, if not even more so.

The first thing on the agenda was Jane's piano recital. Her big diploma exam day was coming up, and she was determined not to fail. So as we walked to the venue, laughing and chatting along the way, I slowly smiled to myself. Even though MP life had pinned Rick's life down, he was still the same old Rick I had always known, still able to put on a smile and shrug off his troubles. Jane was the same old Jane I have known since Day One: The cheerful girl in green uniform baking cookies for her classmates then was no different from the talented young lady endearing herself to her friends. Rick and I had a hearty chat about how different our lives were in the army, and soon enough we found ourselves at the front door of a music school, our first stop for the day.

Her recital room turned out to be an entire auditorium, albeit a small auditorium. I was amazed. Never have I seen anyone book an auditorium just to practise their music. In the auditorium, a sole grand piano standing in the center of the stage poised itself eminently, its solid black finish reflecting the spotlight that illuminated the piano strongly. It was a remarkable sight, just the 3 of us in the auditorium. Rick and I put our bags down and took one of the seats around the middle, while Jane put her bag down and took out some sheet music. Sauntering up the steps towards the piano, she adjusted the seat, sat down, and began to play.

The pieces she was playing were technically demanding, but playing them was probably rewarding for her. The pieces had intensity and illustrated the composers' vivid imagination and design, sure to wow many a listener. Despite the pieces' colourful arrangement, her interpretation was not as animated. The flow of the pieces would abruptly halt with an awkward trip over the notes. At some parts, more feel could have been exuded where I felt did not, leaving a feeling of emptiness instead of satisfaction. Even then, the were parts where I was captured by her firm grasp of some sections of the piece, taken to another world with the elegance and energy of the music as it rose and ebbed ever so gracefully.

A little time passed. I got up, walked over to my bag, and pulled out a bag of chips. Rick saw the bag, and laughed as I proceeded back to my seat and ripped open the bag. Jane looked down at the bag, and chuckled too. I enjoyed these little things, like they were my contribution to my friends. A little joke to enrich the day, if you like.

Alas, the time came to leave, and we packed up and left. Next stop: A petite tea shop, which was a new place to all three of us. As we walked along the busy street, Jane, being the only girl in the group, brought us to go shopping. Everything went like clockwork: First, we would shop for things that we had planned to buy. After that would come things we planned to browse. Then we would look for something else to browse, until everyone wakes up and finds that there's nothing else to browse. But I realised then, through all the random poking at clothing, trinkets and each other, that Rick and Jane had a life together much deeper than what I knew. A life that I did not see a need to know.

After taking the train, we got onto a bus, taking us down memory lane. Seeing the landmarks as they whizzed past reminded me about the times Jane and I shared in the past, the days when we would race the school bell by taxi and foot, praying hard that the driver would not hit a red light or fake a Sunday drive. The days when times were much more carefree and simple (come to think of it, yesteryear always seems more carefree anyway). Happily chatting away about lives past, we suddenly found ourselves coming around at our stop. Time does fly when you're having fun.

Time does also fly when you're writing a story. But I think I have to stop here for this entry. This chapter is getting long. Read further below.

Happiness (Chapter 2)

2009-08-09T03:19:00.001+08:00

Yeah. Chapter 2. You'll know why I changed the names now.

The cafe was cozy and had a peaceful feel to it, like it was a little corner of the world where your troubles could not follow you past the glass doors. Walking inside, Rick, Jane and I sat down on the soft, comfy seats and began to place our orders. On the left, magazines and board games filled a bookshelf, which was pretty thoughtful of the cafe owners to keep around. They added an entire dimension to the experience there, and enhanced the jovial atmosphere to create an amiable and relaxing mood in the place.

As our food arrived, we slowly tucked in. For the first time in goodness-knows-how-long, I had the time to truly enjoy my food. No hustle of army timings to meet. No book-in timings to keep. Just me, them and the food sitting in the plates before us. Looking at the bookshelf again, I picked out an all-time favourite of mine: Scrabble™. Smartly enough, Jane declared to everyone not to keep score, whereupon Rick was relieved: He did not play it much, and thus was so-so.

Time passed. Scrabble™ eventually got old, and we switched to Taboo™. The game was a hit, and we had many good laughs. From the unexpected nuances to the desperate flailing of hands and stunned faces, the game drew out the creative side of all of us, forcing us to use contexts and strange approaches which, like a good joke, would set us giggling away every time.

Soon enough, sunset was past, and the main course was long gone. Jane, again being the only girl amongst us, was clamouring for dessert. It was the opportunity I was waiting for. It was my only opportunity to celebrate her birthday. Immediately, we got up and walked over to the counter, browsing the cake section. Conveniently enough, Jane had to disappear for a potty break, giving us time to order the candles along with the cake. She soon returned, suspecting nothing, until the cake came. It was a pleasant experience everyone thoroughly enjoyed.

I noticed a theme, however, about Rick and Jane that had been consistent and pervasive. They had a clear affection for each other. It could have been them taking turns to feed each other that gave it away. It could have been the putting of their arms on each other's shoulders, or the holding of each other's hands. I don't know. Even so, I found this to be insoluble. Looking at them, however, reminded me of the burden of a relationship. Jane probably misses Rick every day that he is in camp. It's not something I would necessarily want for my girlfriend next time. Despite that, deep down inside, I envied Rick a little, having someone, who doesn't need a reason to care for him, caring for him. Then perhaps, I thought, within this little reunion, I was an outsider, maintaining contact with a couple who were enjoying their lives. But then again, that's the way I always liked it anyway. Being the third party. And I should merely stand aside, and let their relationship bloom.

Digging out my PSP, I asked Jane if she would like to play it. She smiled and agreed. The game itself was music-based, and she reached a song which she could not play. And astonishingly enough to me, she asked me to play along with her. On that one PSP. It was odd. People normally play alone. Adorning a sarcastic grin, I played along. Sitting down next to her, I held one side of the PSP while she held the other. As we played, something occurred to me. That perhaps she just needed company. Romance was probably friendship with the best icing on top for her. It would have been selfish of me to stand aside. I was very much happy being just friends with her, and she probably felt the same too.

Leaving the place with a good smile (and a lighter wallet), we took the bus, and I eventually alighted, waving Rick and Jane goodbye and goodnight. I brought back with me a little happiness, the kind that lasts longer than usual. The kind which gives you a small measure of inner peace, that someone out there still knows you, and enjoys having you around. The few smiles hiding in the huge unforgiving world out there that makes the whole world feel like it's smiling too.

Oh well. Forget about story. Now I'm just pondering the two of them. They really do exist, you know...

It makes me wonder: They may find happiness in each other now, but will it last forever? She imagines, although almost playfully, the kind of house they're going to stay in, while he is busy getting through the day. Despite the polarity, love grows. Now I'm no master in relationships, nor do I suppose I know more than the next guy, but I see two outcomes: They get along, or they do not.

I want to see that through. Call it being the best man or being just that good buddy. If they get along, it will be a beautiful sight. If they do not (nobody's hoping for that, right?)... it will be a huge fall. Someone has to be there to help catch the both of them.

More importantly, I still have a message to spread. A message of salvation to announce. That they will remember that God is still there, pleading for them to take up his offer.

When they do, then they will discover true happiness. One that never dies or fades away with time. Renewing itself daily with everlasting life.

Well, that was a lot. I guess I'll be off now then. Gosh. Tiring. This took me like, what, 4 hours?

Disengage

2009-08-01T18:49:00.000+08:00

When the going gets tough, disengage.

When people get tough, disengage.

When you feel the steam lines flow out of your ears, disengage.

Cool off. You could be wrong. Take some time off to think. To pray.

It's not about payback. It's about sorting yourself out.

Cowardly? Maybe. Better to live to fight another day.

Sickness

2009-07-25T21:51:00.000+08:00

I wake up one fine day feeling like hell. Looking at the clock, I realise that I have slept only 4 hours. Not the healthiest of things to do, but then again, I have had been through worse without feeling so bad. Fighting off a fit of coughing, I slowly get up, push open the bedroom door, and scan a nearby cupboard for a thermometer.

The reading? 39.4 celsius.

My recce course ends here for me.

Oh well. At least I can still recourse XD

I guess I'll be staying home for the rest of the week.

Tighten

2009-07-18T17:20:00.000+08:00

I have but two homes. The former, I have been forced to abandon for the latter. The latter, I have been forced to abandon for the latter. My second home always changes, never ceasing to produce more and more surprises and challenges for me. Bringing more stress and pitfalls with each passing day, I feel a rope, tightening with each day. The rope is everywhere, around my arms, my legs, my neck. With each tug, my limbs, my body, seem to become more numb, yet searing with pain. As the pain excruciatingly tearing through every ounce of flesh in my body, racing up and down my spine, I struggle to face left and right, and I realise that many others around me are suffering as well. And I do the thing which none of them can ever imagine doing.

I smile. A lone smile amongst the sea of gritted teeth.

Because I know that tangible ropes cannot cut the soul.

Long roads, uncertain futures, and interweaving lives lie ahead. I pray for tact and wisdom in these troubling times. Oh, and strength...

Life (Part 1)

2009-07-11T03:34:00.001+08:00

The square room was bland and empty, save for the oak door on one wall and the wooden crate sitting at a corner. Horatio stood at the door, facing Alan, who was also facing him from the opposite side of the room. Alan gestured to Horatio, pointing towards his left towards the logo on the box.

"Want to play?", he asked.

"What's that?", Horatio replied.

"A game called Life."

"Don't you mean 'Game of Life™'?"

"No, really. This is a new game. It's even more interesting. Now they've got a lot more things in there."

"Okay, let's give it a go, I guess."

15 minutes of unpacking later, the whole room was covered by the board game itself. The stacks of cards never seemed to end, and there seemed to be dice of innumerable colours and different numbers of sides. The board game itself seemed impossible to finish, with the game tiles snaking left and right, up and down, making the end indiscernible.

Horatio looked around on the board, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Then he turned to Alan and asked,"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, what?"

"Erm, how do we play?"

"Oh, yeah. You start from there..." Alan pointed to a tile five feet away from Horatio.

"Uhh, okay..." Horatio mumbled. "But don't you think it's a little... complicated for a board game? What IS the purpose anyway?"

Alan paused. "Look, the game is pretty easy to pick up. You're still gonna finish at the end point anyway."

Horatio furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't know... Maybe they have some manual or something. Tell you what, I'll go check."

Horatio walked over to the box and lifted the lid. Searching through its contents, Horatio eventually managed to find amidst the various random blocks and mock buildings an instruction manual. Peering inside, Horatio began to read.

Horatio's perusal of the manual was interrupted by Alan's sudden interjection,"Can we hurry up? Just play, man..."

Horatio stopped reading, and looked up towards Alan. "So what exactly are we supposed to do in this game, then?"

"Well, just play. Make money, live an enjoyable life, I guess. Anything you want to do. It IS Life, after all..."

"Sounds silly. Then it doesn't matter what we do. That's not right..."

Horatio quickly scanned through the manual. Poring through the thick book, suddenly something caught his eye. Something about a Heaven and Hell. That's interesting, Horatio thought. Who would have thought a board game would have a Heaven and a Hell inside too? Pricked by that thought, Horatio read further.

"Depending on your actions during your actual life, you may go to Heaven or Hell. Unfortunately, we cannot tell you how to get to Heaven or Hell, but we'll give you a clue: It's very hard to get to Heaven by your own deeds. Most people end up in Hell."

To that, Horatio lowered the book and asked Alan,"Hey, what's this about a Heaven and Hell?"

Alan stared at Horatio.

"Huh? You mean that corner over there?" He pointed to the far side of the board, where one red square and one white square sat nicely on the board. "Never used it. Makes no sense to me. Why the heck should there be anything else to do after life? Die means die, right?"

"I don't know about that...",pondered Horatio. For some reason, Horatio knew within himself that this Life game seemed more realistic than what meets the eye. And he was determined to find out how to go to Heaven.

"Let's play."

-Gah! It's 3:30 AM already! To be continued...

Fairytales

2009-07-05T18:27:00.000+08:00

There was this manga I had been meaning to read. Average length, but pretty old. A childhood favourite which I never got around to finish. So I burned my whole weekend to finish reading it.

Now I know why I don't like storybooks. They eventually come to an end, whereupon you are abruptly thrust back into reality. Fairytales aren't forever, after all...

I will write my own story. It's called my life story. And the best part is that I don't get bumped into reality when it eventually comes to an end. Because the story is reality.

110% Self

2009-07-04T02:45:00.001+08:00

Why do we say "the wrong things" in front of others, or piss people off without even realising it?

We build our personalities, and present them to everyone we meet. The way we talk, the way we react, everything. Our personality bleeds everywhere, and by itself, it's impossible to miss it. Fortunately for most of us, we are social beings, and tend to conform nicely so that most of us don't even realise that everyone is unique in their special way.

As always, there exists a group that does things differently. Some people possess more eccentric personalities, be it a guttural Aussie accent or frequent usage of incomprehensible language. Drawing away from such social norms encourages differentiation, and in the worst cases, segregation. Being humans, the tendency to bond with other humans does exist, and we will try to gain acquaintances based on common interest, hence the socialising process. However, if a certain eccentricity makes someone so uncomfortable that he believes that he has nothing in common with the other person, then you begin to see some segregation taking place.

So what's wrong with this segregation?

First, we may try to enforce this segregation by drawing the line. The actual actions taken vary, but examples include ignoring the other person, or basically minimising social contact with him. By drawing the line, we create distance to make ourselves feel comfortable. At the same time, we send a clear message to the guy that he is being segregated, and possibly lead him to consider why the distance is being created.

A less drastic alternative is to maintain contact, but to show contempt for the personality trait concerned. The action can vary from poking fun at the person to open mockery. They usually focus on the person more than the trait that has brought upon him such grievances, which obviously does not do the person much good. Often, the person does not know why people make fun of him, nor does he know if there's anything about himself that can be improved upon to be more socially amicable.

Even when the person realises that something is wrong, he may not feel a need to fix his personality to resolve the issue either. As social beings, even if we are eccentric, we will find others who share the same eccentricity. The result? More segregation.

As human beings, we will always try to be superior. If there is a course of action which is better in your opinion, you will by all means take it. Nobody in their right mind would choose something which he knows will disadvantage him in pursuing his objectives. Likewise, we will choose over time to behave in a way we feel is best. However, upon chancing upon someone with a personality quirk, we panic. "Is the way this guy is acting cool?" Every now and then you find someone who you think is cool, but for every cool person, there are many not-cool people out there, the eccentric ones whose traits make them "socially inferior", which thus make ourselves "socially superior". By believing that we are superior, we therefore see no need to change ourselves, and continue the way we are.

The problem now is that when everyone believes the same thing, nobody changes.

Luckily, while humans try to be superior, they also try to find people who have things in common with them. When they do find fellow beings to relate to, a mixing of personalities occurs which defies their superiority complex. Now, the new persona they have created becomes the superior choice, because it is the choice that they eventually found themselves best with.

Of course, such processes do not occur without attrition. Hence the times when you say "the wrong things".

Sadly enough, some people don't change. They're too full of themselves. Which is what makes them outcasts. Some of them don't even realise that being socially adept is a matter of survival in this cut-throat world.

Well, was that good? Haven't done something like this for a while...

Anticipate

2009-06-28T09:27:00.001+08:00

If every day in camp is not strenuous and discouraging, it's boring and discouraging. I can already feel the absolute lack of purpose leaching into my brain. Every day is becoming a chore, where the human mind is slowly transformed to function in a drone-like state. Will such trials be rewarded?

Perhaps. I can at least wake up when I want to with a little more... discipline. The watchword in this island nation.

Things are happening that are beyond my control. But it is in times like this that I know faith is the best solution. When you have true faith, for some reason or other, things just happen, that happen to go your way.

Freedom

2009-06-19T18:41:00.000+08:00

Something I'm pretty short of. Back for a few hours again, and then back to camp. Now I'm not sure which one is my real home anymore...

Hang on. Never mind. Civilian wins hands down. We always shift bunks anyway.

...I won't get arrested for this, right?

Now all I have left is to serve God. I can't bring my computer to camp anyway.

Faith

2009-06-14T10:04:00.000+08:00

The substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.

Yesterday... was a day I took such a long time to achieve. A day that I thought would not exist for an even longer time. But it happened. And I praise God for it.

For that day, I nearly forgot the sorrow of detachment from the rest of the world.

I pray that she makes the right choice. For this may be her only chance now. And oh, for God to reveal His truth to her, it must have been a real stunner.

The items didn't have the bang I thought they would. Although on hindsight, it should have been expected. But that's not important anymore. Now, lives are at stake.

What for?

2009-06-03T23:42:00.000+08:00

Why do I even blog?

Nobody reads anyway. I think I'm talking to myself...

Maybe I need just that. Somewhere to pen all my thoughts so that nobody but me knows.

Yes... just what I needed.

Trouble on the Sides

2009-06-03T00:14:00.001+08:00

Trouble on my left and right. Sometimes, things don't go the way I hoped they would, or people refuse to do the things I hope they would, and people do things I hoped they wouldn't.

That's why sometimes I find it so easy to simply look straight. Because the focus isn't on how much things screw up around you. The focus is what you choose to focus on.

Window Shopping

2009-05-31T22:06:00.001+08:00

I'm not even going to repeat myself...

I don't know how it happened, or whether I had planned or even expected it or not, but I found myself browsing a store full of random trinkets with her. Such times, I reckon, are God-ordained, and usually I just leave it at that. The store itself was petit, and one wonders how the shopkeepers managed to cram so many things into such a small space. You couldn't stretch your arms without knocking something over. After squeezing through an aisle, we stopped to scan for objects of interest. Then she found one: A teddy bear, but the size of a fingernail.

"Wow, people actually make things like these?", she remarked. I feigned surprise, and replied, "What the heck..?"

After putting the teddy down, we continued finding random things to comment about and marvel over, until I suddenly realised that everything was too natural. "Naturally", I stepped back and thought about what I was doing. It felt... different this time. The urge to avoid her was gone, like it just disappeared. To everyone else, we were just friends window shopping at some random store, despite the fact that we rarely talked to each other. But when I stopped to think, suddenly I felt unsafe, like on thin ice. Even though everything we were doing was okay, I felt off-kilter then, as if I shouldn't be there.

"And what if she already knows?" "Why are we even here, maybe she just wants to be a friend?". The worries and questions piled. While she seemed engrossed in the cute music boxes and intricate toy puzzles, I was immersed in a world fraught with thought and speculation. I chided myself for "thinking too much", as my friends have so passionately pointed out to me many times. Yet if I put thinking aside, I would be even more insecure, doing things recklessly. But perhaps, I thought to myself, I should not be thinking about things like this so much.

After all, we were just window shopping.

Knowledge is power - sometimes I fear I give away too much.

Friday

2009-05-26T23:55:00.002+08:00

Once again, too much free time in the training shed.

And so it was that on every Friday night I would visit a "Family" gathering, where people from all over the country would come together and share with each other. I walked down the corridor, lit only by a single white fluorescent ceiling light, and reached out my hand to push open a teak door. As I gave the door a push, the door pivoted open with nary a noise, as if due to expert craftsmanship or frequent maintenance the door's movement was peculiarly smooth. I slid in quietly and found a seat along the side of the hall, for the meeting had already begun. Everyone had already taken their seats here and there. Along the left, whispers and snicking could be heard from among the teens, while at the back, mothers tended to their adorable children.

Amidst all the singing and the sharing during the gathering, I noticed a girl to my left, four seats to the left, if I recall. This girl was special (just like everyone else). Like any other girl, she would style her long, flowing hair to establish her outer (as well as her inner) beauty. For some reason, she looked like a portrayal of a sttereotypical Chinese lady, plucked out from some American cartoon. It could have been the eyes, or maybe the shape of her head. Or maybe it was the fact that she meticulously kept her complexion pristine and blemish-free. I don't know...

But she was a cup of trembling for me. Every time I looked upon her face, I feared that my eyes would paste themselves there. Upon realising her presence, I would spontaneously tense up for no reason, and conspicuously avert her gaze as if fearing being turned to stone. My ears would prick up upon hearing her voice. I wouldn't think of coming within 6 feet of her, yet somehow I felt that it was only right for me to say something to her. After all, she wasn't stupid; I'm not like that with everyone else. Even if it was to "throw smoke", it seemed good for me to engage in some sort of conversation with her.

But when I turned to ask her something, no words came out, nor did I even open my mouth. All I did was turn to face her. She replied the gaze, to which I instantly, with an air of nonchalance, continued turning my head left to look over my shoulder, as if looking for someone else. Just as I had practiced every time we were about to meet eyes. Suspecting nothing, she turned back to face the front. I silently heaved a sigh of relief, even though I probably had gone through the same thing a million times.

I turned back to face the front as well. That was when I noticed how much I was missing out on. My friends were clustered a few rows away from me. I slowly got up and moved over to find a seat next to them, and after a while, my worries seemed to disappear.

Even if for that moment.
-What's wrong, did I reveal too much?

The Sunset

2009-05-25T22:54:00.000+08:00

Too much spare time...

As I once again walked out of those metal gates, field pack weighing heavily on my back, I gazed upon the road ahead of me with anticipation. But alas, my transport was not due for half an hour. So with a slight sense of dejection, I drifted right towards the kerb, and sat down. While I put down my field pack and began to rummage through its contents, a slight breeze blew, lifting my spirits. The trees, swaying to and fro as if announcing the arrival of that benevolent breeze, seemed to sway in harmony, bringing life to the otherwise bland compound. My hands eventually chanced upon a brown book, and I quickly fished it out. Picking out the pen from my left breast pocket, I flipped to an empty page, and began to write.

But try as I might to write, after a while my pen began to grind to a halt. I simply could not write any further. Cursed writer's block. 5 minutes passed. All the way, I was staring at the book, pen poised to write, yet never striking. The book simply stared back, as if mocking me. Part of me wanted to shred the book into a million little pieces in frustration, and throw the bits into the nearest fire, but that wouldn't have solved my writer's block. So the book survived, continuing to mock me. All I could do was silently grimace back while I racked my brains for something inspirational to write.

And then something caught my eye. A glint on my glasses. I looked up, but only to see the long, menacing road ahead of me. Seeing nothing of interest, I turned my eyes back to the book. And that glint came back again. Then I realised; the glint came from behind! So I whirled around with great anticipation of something inspirational. And so it was: The sunset, looming over the horizon, had set the clouds alight with a fire red hue. The whole sky seemed to glow, accentuating the skyline where blue sky met green canopy. The very same thing which had inspired poets and writers of ages past had now reached my eyes.

I smiled to myself, and continued writing.

"And the sun will set for you".

Skittish

2009-05-24T00:21:00.001+08:00

I never thought I would recycle old ideas, but guess what, the time has called for it once again.

Apparently, people think the Teens Skit 2008 ("My" skit hehehe) is pretty good. They want to show it again. Wow. I didn't think it would be such a blast...

But now I have to find the script. And it's lost to the wind!! T.T

Guess I'll have to build the script from scratch. And memory...

Good night.

Remembrance

2009-05-20T00:35:00.001+08:00

NS is like The Mist. You're locked in with a bunch of guys, and if you leave the country, you'll regret it.

The more I serve my country, the more I lose my JC friends. But there're so many of them to keep in touch with anyway. When I talk to one, the others slip through. In the end, I'm going to lose them with time anyway.

So I figured that I should at least pay them some homage for making my JC life exciting and enjoyable, before I forget to do that too.

Thanks, guys. I have learnt to enjoy company. I have learnt how to deal with girls, well, "safely". And many many more things. The memories, greying with time as they eventually will, I will keep as far as I can.

I may not keep all my classmates as friends, but I will certainly do so with as many of them as I can.

Conformity

2009-05-12T23:24:00.000+08:00

"When in Rome, do as the Romans do". The gist of this widely known quote has served many an individual in finding social acceptance, thereby integrating himself into society with ease. It is no surprise, then, that society does not churn out as many minority groups and misfits as it will if people do not understand the importance of the symbiosis between society and individual. The individual, desiring company, will seek companions from the most convenient source: Society in general. Society, likewise, requires individuals to exist and thrive, and likewise will admit individuals with relative ease.

How relative this ease is, however, depends on the society concerned. Some societies require the individual to sacrifice certain freedoms. Being a Singaporean, for example, requires the individual to learn Singlish, for one, in order to facilitate integration into society, or being an academic requires you to use language which identifies you as a learned individual.

Likewise, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. Do things as though you were a Roman. Work like a Roman, do business like a Roman, eat like a Roman, and finally, talk like a Roman. With this base concept firmly grasped, practically anyone can fit reasonably well into society.

Unfortunately for everyone, the world is not as clear-cut as that. There is no one absolute society encompassing all of Earth's 6 billion human inhabitants. There are innumerable smaller societies scattered all over the world, some bigger than others, while some are so small they barely exceed family size. Most individuals might find trouble using one code of conduct, which worked well for them in one society, within a different society. The need for code-switching, or rather, the ability to change one's own behaviour to fit the respective society, has been and always will continue to be an ability which can determine a person's very survival.

I have talked to people from various backgrounds, and one thing I find is that code-switching is a quality commonly found among successful people. Never mind the scholar or the foreign talent to whom Singapore rolls out the red carpet to, because not everybody goes to Singapore. Businessmen, managers, even teachers depend on this skill to appeal to people affiliated to different societies. For example, businessmen need to speak professionally to their clients, or teachers may have to resort to foul language to encourage delinquents to co-operate. They learn to speak to others on the others' terms, not on their own, so as to establish rapport.

The interesting thing, however, is that I realise that it is the people who are supposedly most well-geared for success who often do not have this ability to code-switch. The nerd is a common stereotype endowed upon such people, who are highly educated formally but apparently not so informally, and the fact that such a stereotype exists implies that nerd-like people are common enough to be stereotyped as such. People like, say, foreign scholars, who have been raised and schooled with friends of similar calibre, would not see much need to code-switch as the demand for such is not hard-pressing. While there are indeed success stories of "nerds" becoming successful, I dare say they are few and far between in comparison to the amount of "nerds" out there.

That said, it still doesn't explain how the stereotypical nerd forms in most schools, where everybody eventually meets everyone. Why do nerds become nerds?

The solution is simple: Priorities. Most nerds give their academics high priority, and put aside many hours into studying, and conducting such related activities. While such actions are no doubt beneficial to them, they do this at the expense of doing other socially constructive things, like going out with friends, or even playing soccer or mahjong. Socialising, like studying, is a skill. Nobody becomes the "highlight of the party" instantly. They build up their charisma, their flair through regular, active interaction with those around them.

As to why academics is a priority, the answer varies. Some do it because they need a scholarship. Others have ambitions which require them to study in order to reach. There are even some who put certain fields of academics first purely out of sheer interest. The list goes on.

As we can see here, studies can be important thus. You need good grades if you want to become an engineer, or a doctor, or a lawyer. You need a mind for maths when handling the house accounts. You need a command of language (like English) when dealing with letters, documents, and all that red tape. You could have spent your entire life mingling with all kinds of people, and learnt the ways to charm the people around you, but if you've got little actual skills or knowledge, then you will become dependent on those around you for many things. The converse is true. Having the smarts but not the interpersonal awareness is dangerous, leaving you open to being manipulated and your skills exploited and your ideas stolen.

As a result, having a balance between social and mental acuity, which most people eventually tend towards, is the best option. We may not be born a maths genius or a master at smooth-talking, but at least we're not manipulated or handicapped to such an extent.

Got bioengineering. Sian. Guess I'll have to appeal for psychology. Here I go again...

Driver

2009-05-06T22:48:00.000+08:00

Well, I've hit a windfall. Praise be to God. I'm in driving school. Which entitles me to stay out. Which is the reason I'm able to even blog on a fine weekday. We get to eat at the canteen at least 3 times a day, and it's pretty cool to learn how to drive.

But here's where the fairy tale ends. After all, it's army.

It only lasts 1 month, I have to endure a vulgar instructor who thinks he's your king, and the hours vary from 7 to 6 or 7 to 8. It's worse than office hours. The canteen food sucks, and the lessons are boring. If you sleep, you sign extra. But what do you know, this is army. You win some, you lose some.

Bah. I think I just need some sleep.

Long Weekend

2009-05-03T03:37:00.000+08:00

As the soft rain pitter-pattered on the side of the window, the writer sat in repose upon his brown leather armchair, gazing out the window. A fork of lightning tore through the sky, and for a moment, it seemed like the very sky had shattered, as if made of glass. The writer got up from the armchair, and began to pace back and forth behind the chair. Something was not right. It wasn't the huge mess on the computer table just in front of him. Neither was it that it was way past bedtime. Something had intrigued him, which simply demanded his utmost attention, that try as he might, he could not toss aside.

The writer sat on the armchair, and began to type.

As he sat there, looking at the white computer screen, he thought about the week that just passed, all that had transpired between himself and those around him. All that just came to pass would eventually be forgotten by everyone, including himself. Which is why, he thought to himself, he should write, lest memories that could be important would be very well lost to history.

Even as it pleased him to write about his reflections on the week, it seemed good to him to spice up his writing. After all, a bland reporting of the week's happenings just does not sound intelligent, and he felt that it would be demeaning to himself. After all, he could always use the practice.

And so he put his fingers to the keyboard, and click-clacking in cadence with the raindrops, the writer began to type.

"As the soft rain pitter-pattered on the side of the window, the writer sat in repose upon his brown leather armchair, gazing out the window..."

This week was good. Long weekend. Since Wednesday, imagine that. Booking in tomorrow. This has been one of the best weeks of army which has not taken any of my leave away from me. Next week will be good too. Vesak Day. But after that, it's open space. Sians.

I pray that I can become a GP. Don't we all always want to find a means of escape?

Goodnight.

Blanks

2009-05-01T02:17:00.000+08:00

I took a seat as I slowly placed the toy gun on the black table. The toy, shaped like a huge kiddy yellow pistol, contrasted strongly with the matte black finish of the wooden table, giving the weapon a striking appearance. Screwdriver in hand, I began to slowly locate and unscrew every single screw he could find on the gun. One by one, with each screw drawing more beads of sweat, until at last no more screw was to be found on the toy. To that, I proceeded to remove the toy's plastic skin.

It seemed easy. The plastic cover should simply come off, as if removing a teapot lid. But as it seemed, the toy gun was not a teapot lid. The gun had bits and pieces that did not seem to want to come out, and some separate pieces that intentionally impeded the movement of the cover. Nonetheless, with a little crackling sound, the cover popped out, and little plastic pieces began to fly here and there. I panicked, and began frantically searching for pieces. Fortunately, nothing was broken, and with a little intuition I figured out what went where.

I pulled out a little tube. An innocent looking ordinary orange tube. But I had plans for this tube. Looking inside, I noticed that there was a plastic piece which prevented me from looking right through. Hacking out that piece was my objective. My first attempt was with a screwdriver, where I hammered at the piece as if the screwdriver was some sort of pile driver. But the stubborn piece of plastic refused to move.

Irritated by this setback, I took to the drill. Alas, the drill bit was too short, and could not reach into the tube to attack the offending plastic piece. Unfettered, I continued to search for alternatives, until it dawned upon me. I could melt the thing. Enthusiastically, I searched the tool box for a metal rod. Upon digging one out, I turned up the stove and placed the rod above the flame, as if roasting an imaginary marshmallow. With a little pressure on the piece, the air began to reek of a pungent smell as the plastic melted. Not wanting to die from cancer, I quickly turned on a nearby fan to blow away the deathly odour. Finally, I inspected my work. A clean hole. I breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing else was damaged.

Another half hour of screwing things in, seeing springs fly here and there, the toy gun was good as new. And if all goes well, even better than new. I picked up a foam dart, slid it into the orange clip, and shoved it into the gun. With a smooth sliding action and a sharp click, I pulled the slide mechanism. I then pushed the slide mechanism back, cocking the weapon. With a tingling in my toes and a tightening feeling of anticipation, I squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

The toy gun had grown up. Immediately, I suddenly realised that it was already midnight, and quietly put the gun to one side of the room. My job was finished, all right.

Overload

2009-04-25T17:48:00.001+08:00

My church is holding a "Family Night" Concert this coming June. Naturally, I, having itchy fingers, wanted to perform an item, like play in a skit or sing a song, this time. Having better experiences with the latter, I went with performing in a skit, hoping I could serve the Lord well that way.

Hsu Li was kind enough to have a nice script all lined up. Thankfully this time I have to toil too much, for all I have to do is make sure I remember my lines. No more pestering people to turn up for rehearsal dates, or begging people to remember their lines and put together their props. The decrease in burden is timely as being a conscripted soldier robs me of much precious time.

Then comes along Uncle Bobby. He asked me if I could sing an item during the concert as well. The song, "Draw Me Close to You", was familiar to me, as I had performed it before. Nonetheless, at least one run-through would be helpful in dusting my memory. I willingly took up the challenge. It's a slight raise in the tasks set before me, but I suppose it's not overwhelmingly difficult to complete.

And then one fine day, comes Aunty Ferlyn. Below is a transcript of the actual encounter.

(I am walking down the hallway, headed towards the toilet. A. Ferlyn is ahead, walking in the opposite direction.)

A. Ferlyn (Approaches me): Hey, Mark, you're in the Noah's Ark skit.

I (Looks at her, stunned):...What?

A. Ferlyn: You're in the Noah's Ark skit.

I: ...What?

A. Ferlyn: Yeah, you're playing as one of Noah's sons.

(Nat, at this point is walking in my direction from behind me)

A. Ferlyn: Oh yeah, Nat, you'll be playing Mark's wife.

Nat and I (exchanging sarcastic looks): Ooookay...

That's the story of how I possibly bit off more than I could chew. By God's grace, I'll make it through. Guess that's the beauty of it all.

2 skits and a song. I can't wait.

Trapped

2009-04-18T21:41:00.000+08:00

Again, I saw that girl, sitting by herself by the side of the hall. When everyone was clustered around chatting merrily, there she was, silently sitting all alone, as if blending into the environment, perhaps taking in the sights and sounds. Yet occasionally she would quickly glance around with a slight sense of excitement, as if hoping for someone to notice her, and then slink back into a passive stance. Maybe she yearned to be just like everyone else, to be able to talk like everyone else, laugh with everyone else, but simply did not know how, leading her to resign to a lonely spot in the hall.

For some reason, I felt obliged to sit down and just talk with her, as if the simple action would mean the world to her. Like it would get her on her feet, to release her from her timidity. With a little brashness and open-ness, I approached her and started a lively conversation. But as I talked, I began to wonder: What about me? Maybe, just maybe, I could have taken a fancy for her. Admittedly, she was a little pretty. But then again, it didn't cross my mind when I sat down next to her.

When the time came for us to take our leave, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. Sitting in a jet black car, looking out the window, I pondered my actions then. Why did I do it? Was it because I empathized with a timid soul who did not understand how to enjoy company? Or maybe it was for much more shallow reasons? As I reflected upon this enigma, it dawned upon me that the latter was most unlikely. It would have been extremely difficult for me to get into a relationship at that point in my life.

For like her, I was trapped as well. But only in a different kind of trap.

Nights Out

2009-04-16T21:09:00.002+08:00

Yay! We get Nights out!

And... I spend it at home, blogging. What a great use of time.

What can I say. Maybe I'm a home kind of guy.

But on the bright side... night's out. At least I can play TF2 now. I'm beginning to enjoy this nights out thing.

Hypocrisy

2009-04-10T02:33:00.000+08:00

There was this time. An ordinary day in army life, sitting with my ordinary platoon mates in an ordinary cookhouse, eating an ordinary (and distasteful) meal. The windows had been replaced with metal mesh fences, painted in bright colours, giving the cookhouse a playground cum prison feel. The disgruntled aunties and uncles, wearing food-stained white aprons, dumped dollops of whatever stuff they were serving using the various utensils they brandished, while the embittered privates grudgingly stretch out their plates to receive their chow. One by one, the privates, upon collecting their lunch, would slowly find a place among the rows of tables to join the throng, to join in the eating and chattering.

I came to my seat among my platoon mates, and slowly picked up my spoon to consume the nutriments. My arduous ritual of consuming my food was suddenly disrupted by a voice coming from my left.

"Hai, all you 'A' level people all have no table manners one".

To that generalising, scathing remark, I examined myself. I was eating with my right hand below the table, while I used my left to handle the spoon. With a pinch of spite in my heart, I glanced around the cookhouse. With their supposedly superior table manners, other privates, of which the majority comprised of 'N' and 'O' level students, were eating while talking, playing with each other's plates and cups. The list goes on.

I said nothing, looked at my plate, and continued with my meal.

There was no point messing with them.

Scouting

2009-03-21T22:07:00.000+08:00

What the heck...

Scout in secondary school. Now I'm posted to recce. Scouting again. Freaking sian.

But at least I'm not some tortured OCT.

Well, gotta pack then. I have a feeling my entries will become drier with time. The things army does to you.

Enigmatic

2009-03-14T15:18:00.001+08:00

If you want to hide what you feel from someone, that's normal. But why do we hide things?

The obvious reason is so that others cannot find them. Like hiding your Game Boy so that your snotty little brother can't spoil it, or even holding back your tears so that others will not know how sad you feel.

Sometimes we hide stuff, but we don't hide them well, too. Could be like in Treasure Hunt, to add challenge, or to fake an expression for dramatic/humorous effect. But never mind that. I want to focus on feelings for now.

Say I pen what I feel onto this blog, and word it in a cryptic manner, and nobody understands it. What meaning does it have? Why should I have even penned it down for people to see if they cannot comprehend it? After all, the very purpose of communication is for the other party to receive information, which eventually leads to the other party gaining knowledge.

Or maybe I would be just looking for someone who understands me enough to understand why I penned it down. If that's the case, then I'm just sitting on my hands, waiting for that special someone. A good friend, or a soul-mate. Whatever.

On a bright note, POP LOH!!!!

My block leave is finally here.

POP

2009-03-07T22:44:00.000+08:00

Now things are beginning to branch out.

I could... on the highest note, become an MO.

Or I could... become a service medic.

Or... I could become a rifleman.

I would like to be an MO, thank you very much. Not exactly a straight-A's student, but I could always try. By God's grace, I'll get there.

I finally got to attend the Friday meeting. What the pastor brought up in the talk really struck me. About cleaning up your life. Sorting out your life, you know. Got me wondering. Should there be people I am subconsciously clinging onto in my mind that I should be letting go? Commitments I'm better off casting away?

I really want to move on, but there are some people who are special to me. Special people I do not wish to leave behind. Because I've known them for so long.

And I only pray for God to have mercy on them. Which is why I refuse to let go of them.

There is this story about a guy who walks along a beach littered with starfish. And then he sees this kid picking up these starfish, one by one, and tossing them into the sea. The guy asks him,"Why are you throwing these starfish into the sea?" The kid replies,"If they stay here, they'll die." The guy replies,"But there's so many of them. You can't possibly save them all..."

The kid throws a starfish into the sea, and replies,"That's one I've just saved."

Okay, I don't fully remember the story. But at least my sentiment is expressed.

Benji. Ewen. PJ. WH. How could I ever let you guys go? I'll never let you guys go.

Unless I can't contact you or I forget.

On a brighter note, 4 more days to POP. POP loh!!

I'll have more time to blog soon.

Stress

2009-03-01T00:57:00.003+08:00

After 3 months of suffering...

POP is 10 days away. An uncertain future awaits.

I'm not going anywhere just yet. The stress isn't going to go away.

Sad to say, I haven't blogged for a while. Nor does it matter eventually.

I'm signing off for now. I'll be back. Eventually.

I have time

2009-02-01T15:56:00.001+08:00

You know what?

I have too much time at the moment. If I spend this playing TF2 I'll never forgive myself, so here goes.

My friend stumbled upon this site (intp.org), and strongly felt that I should give it a read. Naturally, I gave it a read, and I have to say it's quite a good description. But one thing that struck me is that according to the write-up, INTP's have good memories. Self-flattery aside, it explains why I can recall things like my book outs, but it also explains why I can remember long-lost friends so well, down to the irrelevant moments spent with them after classes. Okay, maybe not every moment, but you get the idea.

Will I live with these seemingly irrelevant moments for the rest of my life? What will I do with them?

The guys I've met, the girls I've met, they all come and go. Will they still remember me one day if I pass them on a busy street? Would it matter?

Like the article said, melancholy.

I still remember when I thought I had found the one. And then she dumped me. And I was sad. Went on for quite a while. Took a year to return to speaking terms. Praise the Lord. Some people don't even come back to speaking terms. And now we're still friends. For now.

It's these things which are unique. It's a real shame to let them go. I want to keep them, but even that's not an easy task, because there are simply too many of them.

I guess it's time to choose. All or nothing. If you're my friend, then I'll never give up. On the other hand, if you're not, then too bad. You'll be but another memory for me to sift through when I take my leave in solitude.

Okay, maybe I'll leave this for later. I think I'll pack for camp now... or play some CS haha.

Bye. Again.

Halfway

2009-02-01T15:09:00.001+08:00

Well, here I am. 7 weeks down. The enhanced batch says I'm through only 3 weeks of BMT, but I don't care. I'm through 7 weeks.

Getting tired of leaving home again and again. Every week coming back more and more tired. I'm sick of this.

At least I have unit life to look forward to after this. And a 1 week rest time after I finish this. Thank God.

Day by day, I guess.

'Til then.

Abandonment

2009-01-26T22:39:00.001+08:00

JC life for me came to a close months ago, but questions still linger.

Who do I leave behind? Who do I keep with me?

You know, it probably won't matter 20, 30 years down the road, but somehow... I feel sad for those I'm leaving behind, like I'm throwing them away. Casting them into the shadows.

You see, Christianity is a peculiar religion. What God teaches Christians (in a nutshell) is that unless one is baptised by "water and the Spirit" (John 3:7). Never mind that my last sentence may not sum it up 100%, but the point is put across there. I don't know how many people out there have been baptised by water and the Spirit, but I know that pretty much everyone I have met have not. If they say they're Christian, most have bought into a "give your heart to Jesus" one-liner, or with the additional "say the sinner's prayer", well, add-on.

If I leave these people behind, I leave them to an eternity in Hell. I will leave with a bitter taste in my mouth, believing that I could have done something to bring them to the Lord.

Yet if I keep those people, the burden of being a friend to them will linger. It's not easy keeping touch with friends, making time to talk to them, go out with them. Sure, it's enjoyable and I like it, but the effort is there. I've got my business to settle too. How could I possibly keep all my friends?

And looking forward, I can see more people entering the picture. Guys from all walks of life, rich and poor alike, all suffering in army just like me. It's an enriching experience, but I feel... sad. Because all these people will spend a long long time in Hell unless God sends someone in. And I want to say,"Here I am, send me". And then it's one person in the whole company of who is spreading the word. The labourers indeed are few.

I feel sad for everyone around me.

But I have hope. Because it's God who's behind me. The church is here. Everyone in the church is pining away hard, just like me. I know something will happen, and I simply gotta work hard.

Now, where did I put my dog tags?..

Survival

2009-01-25T01:53:00.001+08:00

Oh yeah. 6 days of outfield. My knees are aching, my stinky feet have survived the foot rot, and my thighs bleed from the crawling in the soil. But I have survived. W00ts.

Words cannot describe how glad I am to be home. Where you don't have cranky sergeants bellowing down your back to move faster and work harder. Like if you don't give them anything less than your utmost, they'll chop off your head. I don't want a life like that.

Then again, I'm already halfway through. Only, what, 7 more weeks to go? Yay. Then I'll phase into unit life, and I heard the grass is greener there.

You know, army life is such a detaching experience, I actually have a list of things to do every time I book out. You know, like eat something, or play the piano. Things like that which I cannot do in the army. I hope things will change for the better when I get to my unit.

Farewell.

Confined

2009-01-11T16:15:00.000+08:00

Well, I WAS confined. I don't feel any different. So much for feeling bad about punishments.

So confinement stories? Almost nothing happened during confinement.

Exactly just that. In the morning, you go and fall in. No morning exercises. You just fall in, go for breakfast, come back, and they throw you some nonsense work like clean up the area. And then you go back to your bunk to do whatever you want. Except maybe watch porn.

But at least I had plenty of time to do all the other things which I didn't have the admin time to do before. Which is pretty good. Maybe every now and then I should find a reason to get confined... maybe not.

My bunkmates were telling me not to sleep alone in the bunk because they thought it would be super scary. I didn't think so. It wasn't scary at all. Like some hantu will come and get you in the middle of the night. Riiiight...

Sorry, I don't believe in ghosts.

Off to field camp for me, then. Be blogging in about 2 weeks. Gosh, the only thing I can think of blogging now is army, army, army...

Ciao.

Confinement

2009-01-03T01:08:00.000+08:00

They said confinement week would only come once.

Well, now I can fully enjoy the wonders of confinement. I just got confinement for next week.

Wah, quite sians. I've missed so many Sundays. NS sucks. But at least I'm doing something with my time.

This time, I'm going in for 13 days. Hooray.

I can't think of anything else to say.

Oh yeah, I'll bring confinement stories.

Happy new year, all.

NSF

2008-12-26T00:16:00.001+08:00

I just booked out from NS for Christmas, so FINALLY I can blog again.

Oh yeah, I'm not allowed to blog anything about my NS life, except to blog that I cannot blog about my NS life. Oh well, that's military life for you.

Instead, I will blog about my Christmas day.

Many people would be celebrating Christmas on Christmas eve. For my dad-side family, it was no different. I tagged along, as usual. It was fun, typical family fun. Gathering around a Wii, catching up with cousins who live overseas. But with each passing year, I find Christmas to have less and less meaning. Does anyone even think about what they're celebrating? Christians and non-Christians alike, celebrating a supposedly Christian holiday. If you're Christian, it's because Jesus was born on that very day. If you're non-Christian, it's because you want to experience the gift of giving, which is one of the themes of Christmas.

I don't know on what day Jesus was born (And it's probably not on 25 Dec anyway), but Jesus definitely doesn't need us to celebrate his birthday for him. And if you want to experience the joy of giving, buy your parents dinner.

Or... maybe you're doing this because everyone else is. Fair enough. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

Oh well. It's past Christmas now. And I don't feel that anything special has passed. After all, it's just another day. To me, at least.

It's relatively late now. Good night, all.

Cruising

2008-12-06T12:14:00.001+08:00

Yeah, I'm going on a cruise.

I won't be blogging for a while, too, because after that's NS.

Sucks, doesn't it? But at least I won't have to worry about what to blog about.

I'm leaving my friends, making new ones, and coming back for my old friends again. Result: More friends. Okay, that sounded creepy. Never mind.

Good day.

Camping/Prom

2008-12-03T00:01:00.001+08:00

Well, been out for a while because of camp. Back now, I guess.

Oh yeah, just had prom night too.

What to say...

Camp was cool. First time I messed with videos, and the first time the skit I (With my team, naturally) pulled together has been called "High Standard". Wow. I get "Good" and even "Funny", but now "High Standard". I should make myself a medal for this.

Now's the hard part. Every time I make a skit, I add a tinge of innovation, like placing the stage amongst the audience, or in this year's case, videos. Now I'm all out of ideas. How am I going to make next year exciting? Put both in?

At least I have a year to figure that one out.

And now prom night.

One word: Informal.

I somehow managed to identify the girls despite the excessive make-up and minimal clothing. That's a good start :D

Managed to catch up with friends. Needless to say, I won't be seeing them for a while, given that.. Well. Duty calls.

Don't have any pics yet. I'll just have to loot off my friends then, before I can show them off...

Well, I remember saying last time that you would be able to gather information from my blog to understand me. I haven't been fair. I don't go that far as to pour out my soul onto a webpage. You're going to need to peel that from me some other way. That is, if you know me.

Then again, every word I have used could be for a reason... Hah. Now you'll all think yourselves to death. Right? Oh, right. People don't think that much...

Oh well. Goodnight, all.

Deep Impact

2008-11-26T03:49:00.000+08:00

People are breathing down my neck to get training before NS trains me. And I can't say I blame them. Been a little busy lately...

I think that I have made a deep impact in someone's life. That's a start. At least I'm not just some smear on the wall. I have made a deep impact, left my mark. And whether good or bad, it gives me the strength to live another day.

To hope to see her again. And free of the rancid gas that surrounded us. And then to see God touch her through me. Hopefully.

Isn't it odd that when we argue with each other and end with a stalemate, you always believe that you proved the other guy wrong more than vice versa? And at the same time, feel that you could actually have been the wrong one?

I like to believe that in that case, everyone wins. Because even if you bicker till bitterness, you learned someone else's point of view. And in a world of lies and twisted perceptions, every view counts. Plus, you learn to argue better. Amazing how sweet a bitter word war can be.

That is, unless you don't kiss and make up... (maybe I should use another phrase... Nah.)

Gosh. It's that late already?

Ah well. Goodnight.

Can I?

2008-11-24T22:11:00.002+08:00

Can I live like this?

Can I leave them like this?

It's almost like I failed again. Like every other guy and girl I've encountered. I don't know if I should let them go, yet I sense them slipping away.

Gosh, I don't even have the strength to type.

It's that feeling where your words fail to reach others' ears. That feeling when you've been brow-beaten by your peers because of your very core beliefs, and having no means to bring them to understand them.

Like you've lost.

If I let go, I condemn them. I cannot let go. I must not.

But they don't see it that way. I'm just one of the crowd to them now. To step into the limelight for a fleeting moment, only to fade like a dying flame. And vice versa.

In the end, all I've got is God, the Spirit and His bride.

So can I let go? Yes, but if I can hold on, I will.

Sigh.

End post.

Loyalties

2008-11-22T23:59:00.003+08:00

I want to introduce to you a place

Where there shall be no more pain

No more crying, no tear shed

Loved ones to keep, to cherish

Never to leave you, ever

Where everything is just right

Perfect, in every sense of the word

That's right, the place is Heaven

But the thing is I haven't seen it either

I'm more like a travel agent, then

I've read the file, heard about it

It seems pretty fishy, I know

But I can tell you how to get there

But you gotta believe first

In me? No, not really. Try the big guy

You have probably heard of him before

A lot of people have different names for him

Like... oh yeah, you know... God?

Jehovah? Maybe even Allah if you want?

But I digress. The point is that, well, God

Can get you a trip to Heaven. Here's how.

First you need a passport, obviously

But this kind of passport is strange,

It's not even a book, oddly enough

Instead, God (he knows we lose things often)

He attaches His Holy Spirit onto you

It's pretty cool. It even has voice confirmation

To prove you have it, just speak in tongues

Next, you need to pay for your flight tickets

But you don't pay in dollars, yen or roubles

You pay in your allegiance, your stewardship

Tell people about this great offer

Bring people to the Big Guy's office

Oh, by the way, his office has a direct hotline

Anyone can reach it if they merely pray

But I know many people out there

Who haven't read the brochure well

And they think you don't need that passport

In order to gain admission to Heaven

Some even want you to pay your way in

Whether by your service, or even in money

They say almost anything, it's becoming confusing

Well, I can't do anything about them

But all I can do is be God's travel agent

I humbly ask whoever will listen

To procure their travel documents

The sooner, the better, get that Holy Spirit

Oh yeah, follow that brochure, get Baptised

And live your life in God's grace.

I'm not worried about whether I sound arrogant; I'm worried that others will be too arrogant to consider this opinion.

Paradigm

2008-11-20T01:36:00.002+08:00

When you tell people you go to church, it's fine. When you tell people you play the guitar in the youth service, they go "Not bad." But when you tell them you go to church in the morning and come back late in the evening every Sunday, they give you that look.

Like you're a fanatic.

When you tell people you don't pray at home, they begin to wonder if you're Christian. When you tell people you do pray at home, they think "This guy is serious". But when you tell people you do pray at home IN TONGUES, they draw back.

Like you're a fanatic.

I don't think any of that is fanatic at all.

Now being "Slain in the Spirit", or even hanging yourself on the cross, THAT's fanatic.

You can see a spectrum forming already, can't you?

So what is fanatic?

As a Christian, I want to do something for God, not to score points with the Big Guy. I do it because I want to. Gratitude, if you want. That's why I ask people "Hey, would you like to visit my church?" sometimes, even when people think that odd, maybe even invasive (I don't know). That's why I organise talks to give during meetings. That's why I go for meetings on Fridays. I want to take God seriously.

But then I become fanatic to everyone else.

When I spell it out like this, you're probably thinking now,"Well, it's your business. Who says you're fanatic?" But would you do the same for your faith? Would you take your faith seriously, and examine your faith, spend hours poring through your Koran, or Bible, or what your faith uses, to make sure your faith is accurate?

Hang on. If you do things like that, you're fanatic, aren't you? Looks like being serious has become being fanatic :\

People nowadays view their lives as the most valuable thing they have. For people who don't believe in God, it's fair enough: It's they only thing they really have. For those who do believe in God, and continue in their view anyway, God takes second to last place. He is the blessings dispenser, the fallback, the cushion in their lives.

And if they think any more of God, they are fanatic.

I'm tired now. Off to bed then.

Goodnight.

Survivor

2008-11-18T23:47:00.004+08:00

Aww yeah...

A's are over. Alas, the cruel beast has been slain.

Now all that's left for me to do is to run. And run. And run. I'll die in NS less quickly that way.

Ciaos.

In the meantime, I think I'll enjoy my days a little more, in view of current windfalls...

Gilding

2008-11-15T23:35:00.000+08:00

When people talk about someone being cold, or warm, they usually mean that they are friendly, or unfriendly. Whether they are more willing to show feelings, or not.

Maybe I'm the latter. Maybe. But anyone who says he or she is all cold or all warm is a liar.

Which makes me wonder. Is the smile we put on when we greet each other fake? Are we laughing with each other out of social imperative, or because we really want to be friends with each other?

And it doesn't stop here. When we tell each other "I can play jazz" or "I can do 30 pull-ups in one minute", are we hiding things? I for one know I am. I'll bet everyone does it too. Like how you failed your tests, or how lazy you are.

When we talk to people, we tell them what we think is worth saying. We will tell them the good things about ourselves. Rarely does someone open a conversation with how horrible he is in sports. He would talk about how he beat someone in badminton with a fluke shot, or that goal he got with a 30m kick. The gilding.

When we face each other, all we see is the gilding. Below that is the rot. The challenge is to peel away the gilding.

How much gilding have you got on yourself?

Your real friends aren't the ones whom you know all the good things about. Your real friends are the ones whom you know all the bad things about. The ones truly close to you, at least.

Good night, all.

Abrupt Plot Ending

2008-11-13T00:46:00.001+08:00

The A's were going so well.

And just like a bad story with a horrible plot, the Econs papers came.

And just like in a horrible story, "Suddenly a nuclear bomb dropped and everyone died".

At least everyone died. That way nobody really died. My econs might just have hope after all. At least I can rest easy.

Managed to mend an old tiff yesterday. A little. I'll see what happens soon. In the meantime, I think I'm going to enjoy my time a little more.

Goodnight.

Shear Factor

2008-11-10T00:36:00.001+08:00

While I try to be tolerant of most things under the sun, there is but one thing which pins my head to the wall and explodes, causing the walls to be coloured with various shades of red and pink.

It's basically people. Especially when you've got to gather a bunch of people together, at some given time. They're always bound to have timetables, schedules of their own. It's all right to have lives of their own, but when you have a whole lot of people with their own timetables, nobody seems to have a common time when they can all get together. It really sets things back, especially when there's a deadline to meet.

When I work on a project, sometimes I feel like nobody's doing anything, save me. Granted that I can't peer into everyone's minds to see if they want to actively work in the project. But when I get something done, and then look around to realise that not everyone has done likewise, I begin to wonder if I should be working with such fervor. It's a shame to work so hard and then have to wait for other people to finish their share of the work.

This is why I partially cannot stand working with other people. I respect that they have their own lives, just like I have my own life. Nonetheless, I still somewhat cannot stand working with other people.

Can't we just get the job done and over with? Why the eccentricities? Get it done, return to your normal lives. How hard is that?

Meh. I'm ranting again.

Goodnight.

Whut The

2008-11-06T23:36:00.002+08:00

And I thought the A's were supposed to be difficult.

While everyone's mugging away, I'm playing TF2. Despite that, this week I have made history (for myself). This is the first time I have managed to finish a Chem and Maths paper before the time is up.

During the O's it was CS. TF2 requires a little more skill. Keeps my mind going, you know. That might explain things.

Needless to say, the papers have been going well for me. I'm think I'm going to enjoy the A's after all. The school has betrayed our innocent minds by setting us incredibly difficult questions, so that we will fear like mad and mug like mad too. The vicious heathens.

Ah well. Good night.

Barack

2008-11-05T12:49:00.000+08:00

That's right, the Democrats won. Hooray to democracy!

(Then again, it's not like he's going to save us all with a swish of his wand)

I think I'm going to enjoy the news for a while. That's a first.

Good day.

Flip-out

2008-11-02T21:24:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow is the day when everyone is going to begin flipping out.

It's also the day when the A's start.

Coincidence? I don't think so.

To all who are going through crunch time these 3 weeks, I bid you good luck.

As for me, only God is there, I guess.

Good night, and don't forget your Red Bull.

Cool

2008-10-30T00:47:00.001+08:00

Wow. First time I've been called "cool".

Apparently, when people are gluing their textbooks to their heads, drinking Red Bull and OD-ing on coffee just for that 2 week crunch, I'm doing exactly the opposite. I'd elaborate, but my peers would pelt me to death with their books before that happens.

And to that, my tutor say's I'm "a pretty cool guy". Riight.

It's not like I'm the only guy who does what I'm doing. Right?

I feel that if you put in your best, you will end up where you are most comfortable in. Look at it this way. If you throw weeks of work into your studies, fine, you get good grades and you can get into the university course you want. If you're fine with working hard, that's fine. But first up, ask yourself if you are going to reap any serious rewards from this at the end of the day. For example, getting straight A's, and then realising that your favourite course, like Engineering, only needed 3 B's.

Then there's the "Just burn the weeks for now and reap the rewards later" retort. Oh well. I've got nothing to say.

Maybe I should pick up my chem notes...

Goodnight.

Ascend

2008-10-27T01:22:00.004+08:00

It's time I stepped up. Taken a more active role. Made more use of my time, doing things that matter.

Well, that's what I keep telling myself anyway.

And in case people begin to wonder if I'm going to go anywhere further than that, I will tell them, "Step by step".

It should work. For a while. Which is just about as long as I need, actually.

Goodnight.

Centrifuge

2008-10-25T02:34:00.003+08:00

When I see her, I get that tight feeling, like I just have to say something to her, but utterly cannot. While everyone else seems oblivious to my dilemma (which is fine anyhoo), I cannot help but feel that we are drifting apart. While I cannot say that I look at her with indifference, neither can I say that I have dumped the thought of being a friend to her, because I cannot do that at all costs. When I look at her, it is not love, nor lust, that I feel.

It is fear. Fear of becoming too distant. Fear of always seeing her, and realising that you've got nothing to say to her, and most likely vice versa. It is the fear of being fearful of her. That the only words you'll exchange with her one day will be "Hi" and "Bye". The fear of choking on words, which would give any girl ideas about how you're looking at them.

How can I live my life watching every move I make? Every sentence I utter? God forbid. I am not a paranoiac. I am not going to cower behind a stoned face forever, while the playing field becomes a wasteland. I'm not going to let this centrifuge of fear tear me away from being who I am.

Then again, what AM I going to do?

Lol. This could be tougher than I thought. All I can do is pray.

Goodnight, all.

Risk

2008-10-20T01:51:00.009+08:00

First time I've played Risk in church. It's also the first time I won at Risk upon consensus after running out of time to dominate the world.

When the game whittled down to 3 people, it began to look like some '3 Kingdoms' style drama, only Risk style, with people making diplomatic alliances, breaking the alliances and such.

I told the other players that I was going to keep the balance of power in check by invading every now and then. Actually, it was so that nobody could overpower me, and that I could build enough armies to beat everyone to a pulp. They bought it anyway.

Whether they actually thought better isn't really important here, though. What I'm wondering here is whether manipulating people can actually be moral.

Think about it. Nobody likes feeling manipulated, or used for that matter. The feeling you get can range from feeling outsmarted to wanting to unload an SAR21 into the guy's face. On top of that, people who are manipulated usually end up feeling that the guy manipulated them for his selfish reasons, because that's the quickest and most convenient way to rationalize being played by the person. "Oh, he did it for his selfish reasons."

Before I continue, I want to clarify: Manipulation, as opposed to influence, technically means to influence for personal gain. Since 'manipulation' has such a strong tone, which 'influence' lacks, I am leaving out the 'for personal gain' part for the sake of this write-up. When people say they influence one another while being aware of it, I believe that that's manipulation, and that's what defines manipulation in this entry.

While sometimes people DO manipulate others for selfish reasons, such as in this Risk game, however when people categorize manipulation as selfish, I personally find it very easy to dispute that. What about psychiatrists treating their patients of their illnesses, or the average dad encouraging his son to clean his plate after dinner by promising him a treat to KFC if he did it regularly? Aren't they manipulating their subjects too?

How about morals? Can manipulating people be moral?

When morals are laid out, often they are laid out so that everybody benefits. In order for everyone to benefit, everyone must be considered. That said, morals often require that the individual consider the bigger party i.e. others, before self. Sharing is good, while selfish greed is bad. Manipulation could work both ways. In the real world, people play office politics, sometimes reaching soapbox drama levels, such that it becomes truly immoral in more ways than one. On the other hand, manipulation could be for the greater good. The dad could manipulate his son to save money by topping up his account the equal of what he saves. The psychiatrist could manipulate his patient to combine his split personalities so that his condition would be cured.

When I brought forth the idea of the psychiatrist's good in manipulating people, some imagined that to be "Playing God". So when you manipulate people for personal gain, it is selfish and therefore inherently immoral, but when you manipulate people for their good, you are playing God, which is implied as immoral too.

I have many defenses to that, so I'm going to start with this one.

When psychiatrists train, they are taught about sociology, how people interact with one another, that kind of stuff. They are also taught how the human mind perceives things, how they normally react to certain things, and how certain actions are considered abnormal. They also learn about how the human body involuntarily exhibit unique or distinctive behaviours, like in their handwriting or body language, that describe their thoughts or feelings at the time. When psychiatrists learn all this, it is to diagnose and treat mental disorders using various techniques, and sometimes, medicines. It's their job to cure people using the skills and tools they pick up. If that's playing God, then what are all the other doctors doing? From the ones who give cancer patients a time limit to their lives to the ones who prescribe Gabapentin for that migraine? Are they all "playing God" too? They're all informing and treating their patients wherever they can based on what they have learnt. Give the patient a pill and the pain goes away. Talk to the patient the right way and his depression is gone. See the parallel? How then, can psychiatrists be seen as "Playing God" when they are doing what doctors always do, that is to save lives, only on the mental level? Saving lives, as far as I know, isn't "playing God".

While manipulating mental patients, even if for their own good, seriously does sound like "Playing God", then again, is the woman who has a bipolar disorder going to deal with her problem just fine? No, she is not. If God wanted to cure her of her disorder by His Will, He very well could, but He could just as easily use the psychiatrist as an instrument of His Will. How is being an instrument of God "Playing God"?

On top of that, psychiatrists, many of them men, often learn what many women already subconsciously put into practice in what is known as "women's intuition". Often when a woman senses something being off about someone, it would be that the guy showed some sort of sign of strange behaviour that doesn't make sense, which men are not tuned to pick up because of the way they are wired, which she was sharp enough to pick up. It naturally gives women the upper hand in relationship management, although strangely enough, it is the men and not the women who go pro with it into psychiatry. Hang on. If women apply the 'leisure' version of psychiatry, it's excusable, but when you go pro with those very skills, you're "playing God". Is that it? I hope not.

Can think of plenty more ways to fight, but you have to admit, on the surface, psychiatry seems so invasive of the human mind, it is to no surprise that people think that psychiatrists "Play God". I wanted to show here that manipulating people, which is what psychiatrists do professionally, is something that you and I do more often than we would expect. From the simple smile to the apology letter, we manipulate people in our lives, time and time again, and we too get manipulated by others, sometimes even knowing that we are manipulated, time and time again. If your motives are moral and with good intent, then when you manipulate someone with those motives in mind, then manipulating people, with all certainly, will be moral for you.

Wow, from moral manipulation, to psychiatry, to everyday manipulation. At least I stayed on the point of manipulation. That's an improvement.

It's late now. I'm going to sleep.

Goodnight.

Retract

2008-10-18T15:54:00.000+08:00

Sometimes you think that you could do something nice for someone. And then you wonder if it's really going to do him any good, or if it actually would cause something bad to happen even. At the same time, you feel that not doing it would be something very awkward for you.

And then you decide not to do it anyway.

I'm all out of exposition for today.

Forked Roads

2008-10-16T21:55:00.002+08:00

Now that the school year is finally drawing to a close, I can tell myself in good conscience that I can let go. Of things. Of people. Of relationships.

But I guess the nagging feeling that I could have done things differently will always poke me every now and then. And then I will have to remind myself every time that whatever that happened is the very reason I am able to look back and wonder so.

Even so, when it comes to my kind of stewardship, it's lives I'm dealing with here.

What do I have to say
Maybe I should do what I have to do to break free
What ever happens to you, we'll see
But it's not gonna happen with me

I guess that this is where we've come to
If you don't want to, then you don't have to
Believe me
But I won't be there when you go down
Just so you know now, you're on your own now
Believe me

16 Days

2008-10-15T18:18:00.000+08:00

Never thought about counting the days til the A's until now.

Doubt I'll ever think about it soon either.

I've been taking life one step at a time. And it looks... intriguing as of late. I've been trying to talk to my friend about the Lord, trying to use cues I find when I talk to him. Apparently he refuses to talk with any sense once I talk about anything related to religion.

Maybe the Lord has hardened his heart. I'll just have to wait, I guess. All in the Lord's timing, right?

Right.

My prayer is that he will listen. For a change.

More mocks again tmr. I "can't" wait.

Goodnight.

Irritation

2008-10-13T01:26:00.001+08:00

After baccalaureate service, I thought school was supposed to end.

Now we have mock exams. (I've given up on the pun)

I guess it's school as usual. Only this time I'm voluntarily going for it.

Meh. At least I can see my progress. Or progress compared with my friends. Hehe.

I... don't really have much to say lately. Wish I could provide some exposition on something. Hm.

Let's see.

Let's introduce a guy. I'm gonna call him Louis. Louis' motto is "Impossible is nothing". Because to him, problems are challenges, and when he sees something he is interested in, he will relentlessly pursue it with great passion. And given his accolades as valedictorian in every school he has enrolled in, and his countless medals from various sports and academic competitions, he is obviously beyond capable of succeeding in what he wants to succeed in. He even succeeds in beating his friends in computer games, come on.

You might be jealous of him. I wish I could be like Louis. Unfortunately, I am not, and neither are you. Live with it. Nobody owns in sports, schoolwork and computer games, all at the same time. But you get the drift about Louis. When he is passionate about something, he is unstoppable.

Now I want to introduce a girl. I'm gonna call her Pearl. Pearl is quite the opposite of Louis, although she doesn't always fail in whatever she works on. For Pearl, status quo is everything. She takes an incredibly long time to get used to changes in her life (She's quite slow in that sense), and believes strongly in her morals. If someone suggests that she change her mind about how her set of rules may not be the best, she shuts off. According to her, her values are good, and nothing about that needs to change, period. The moment things are not the way they were, Pearl makes every attempt to revert everything back to the way they were, in perfect harmony with each other.

Pearl is obviously quite the harmonious person, and we do need someone like that in our lives, although it would be nice if he/she was not as obsessive as Pearl. But the point is that Pearl won't budge. She's like this immovable being that you will have to work around if you can't work with her.

Now this is where it gets a little interesting.

Louis likes Pearl, and now Louis is going to try to get to know her. Obviously, she is not going to take too kindly to Louis' entrance into her life, given that not only will harmony be disrupted, but by someone who's 'larger than life' too. She's going to try to retain the status quo. But Louis won't be flattened just yet. When he works at something (or someone), he works with an unparalleled drive, like an unstoppable force. Pearl, on the other hand, refuses to budge too, like some immovable object.

So the question is this...

What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

I'll let you figure it out. Why?

I can't be bothered. I only wanted to ask the question anyway.

Now I know I have nothing better to do.

I'd practice for my piano exams, although playing the piano at 1 in the morning is something your neighbours don't take too kindly to.

Bye.

Understanding

2008-10-10T00:52:00.000+08:00

What my pastor said to me this day, can never be bought with mere money. It got me thinking. For real...

Have I been hiding?

Reality can be scary. So many things which can rip families, even friendships apart. It reveals how fragile our securities are. Yet our lives by themselves are exceedingly strong. Strange, huh?

Maybe I've been hiding from reality. Hiding behind the screen of guns, song and writing. Pointing fingers at others' faults, while closing my eyes to my own. Playing dumb while the family fabric continues ripping.

I think it's time to stop hiding now.

Gotta pray about this.

It's late now. See if I can sleep. Odds are I won't. I have just discovered the power of Red Bull. Next time I drink it will be one hour before my exams.

Good morning.

Roflwaffles

2008-10-08T00:02:00.000+08:00

When talking about people's minds, I remember someone saying something. Men's minds are like waffles, while women's minds are like spaghetti. When you pour syrup on waffles, they settle nicely into the neat squares. On the other hand, when you pour sauce on spaghetti, it gets everywhere.

Although this sounds almost male chauvinistic, there is no prejudice here. I actually find it to be rather true. While guys tend to compartmentalise every aspect of their lives (Work life has nothing to do with personal life, for example), girls have a tendency to connect things together. While this makes women better at people skills, it also gives rise to a potential to mix the professional with the personal, or things that otherwise are not and should not be linked. For example, some women who have personal issues with one another, even petty issues, simply cannot work with one another on any level.

Men, on the other hand, are not free from problems either. While men can easily focus on finishing individual tasks thanks to this thinking approach, they can also neglect parts of their life which are actually connected to each other. For example, Workaholic men can neglect their families, thinking that their work has absolutely nothing to do with their personal life.

What does all this say?

Men. Women. We're different. Even in the head. We're so different, it drives everyone crazy. While men scratch their heads over why women can be so emotional, women scratch their heads over why men can be so un-emotional. That's why, if anything, I'm going to try to understand girls, in general, better, how they think, why they do what they do. As a guy in a country with crashing fertility rates (I'm not suggesting anything further), I think that suggesting to you, the reader, to take on this same pursuit to understand the opposite sex is a must.

Hais.

Sandwiched

2008-10-03T19:39:00.001+08:00

Sometimes I find myself looking back at the past. And I realise then that I've come such a long way. But then I would look forward, and realise that there is still an eternity to go.

Always stuck in the middle we are, sandwiched between the past and the future.

We walk through an endless barren time continuum, plowing our way through, making our own landmarks so that we can recognise our past. Even if it turns out to be meaningless.

And the future is misted before us. While we can see, clear as crystal, our past, the future eludes even the sharpest of eyes Man has borne. While we love and loathe our past, our future we likewise await with eargeness or dread.

We meet within this continuum, and we separate. In the end, you are alone.

In the end, you find that your life is but a vapour in the wind.