I eagerly went for another driving lesson this morning. Lesson was supposed to start at 10am. Soon the plump Albert Yap arrived at the pick up point. I approached the car with another golden hair guy in red, smoking away. Instructor Albert Yap stared at us both, stunned. Apparently he had made a mistake and allocated 2 lessons on the same slot. In the end, he proposed to let the other guy take the lesson because his test date is near. I actually agreed and return back home. And the other student gave me cheeky smile as he says, "sorry~~". It could have been a sincere one, but I regard it as a mocking apology. Utterly pissed, I was swearing and cursing on the way back home.
This is a strong sign of my inability to express my anger when I have the right to do so. It is one important quality of a leader to be able to assert authority. I must admit I am a ultimate loser in this arena. It is even hard to recall the last time I actually fired up. It is always post-incident complaining without confrontation.
The last vivid incident that I recall was in JC2. I was truely disappointed to have heard a negative (I assumed it was negative) comment from my dream girl. After school I was on the basketball court playing soccer as ususal. I couldn't get over the comments, and as a result, I was grabbing every chance to play rough and ram the ball. One time the ball went out of the court, and rowed to the foot of a chubby cute angelic little primary school boy who happened to pass by. I named him "Xiao Pang". Xiao Pang carried on walking disregarding the ball. Out of my mind, I screamed at the top of my voice at him, howling for him to pick up the ball. I knew he was damn petrified, and I was about to walk towards him when the others grabbed on to me, trying to calm me down. Xiao Pang kept walking on in rapid steps, not daring to turn an inch of his head.
Well, this is one of the events that was registered in my "Things that I regret" list. To think that I actually vent my anger on such an innocent child. Such a disgrace. I despise myself for that. I would like to express my outmost sincere apology to Xiao Pang.
I am unable to unleash my anger at the right time at the right person. Hell do I need to go through some anger management course.
Given my rare outbreak of rage, I feel that I am apt to customer service line. I seemed to be trying to please everyone, so much so that I am like always giving welfare to the specialists and men under me back in camp. Claiming off days from me could never been so easy. They are more like friends than subordinates. I had agreed to help out a warrant to do his job even when I'm reluctant. My collegues were then saying that people are climbing on top of my head to poo on it, and I reckon this.
I awed at my friends who are able to stand on his ground so firm that he can even make himself sound correct even when he knows he's in the wrong. I applauded a friend who pee into a bottle of Chivas and toasted the other party, whom he don't like, with it.
The key is to exert an aura of confidence around yourself. It makes people wanna trust your words and ask for your opinion. In this harsh society of immense competition and trickery, when everything revolves around $$$, one has to manipulate, or be manipulated. Given my character, I would most likely be taken advantage of. No choice, but I guess I'll have learn to play punk.
Thursday, December 30, 2004
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Thirsty
Nothing beats relaxing at a cafe and having a quality conversation with a buddy. Two cups from the McCafe and a pack of Malboro. 2 empty chaps and an ashtray. Nice cool music lays everything else in place. Even the malay server, Wiwi, at the counter caught my attention. Lam and I decided for the chill out as we parted with Fanny after the movie "Love, So Divine".
A stick each sets in in a routine manner. I was on annual leave this very day. And it's always these days when I meet those "pig-dog" buddies that I found the nicotine level running in my blood rising. What had been so magical about this stick in the mouth then, which many insisted on puffing on despite the clear fact that it is detrimental to the body.
My first puff was about a year ago, whilst in the jungles of Temburong, when my detail were ultimately morale strickened as we were lost in the cold rain. On top of tiredness and hunger and insects, my buddy's map was missing, and we were ordered cease our navigation and backtrack to look for it . We sat down in a circle, despaired, a magical stick (initiated by Shiyi) started to go round the group. Some took a puff, some merely sniffed at it.
In my opinion, this senseless tobacco has a spiritual effect. I associate this with camaraderie. It creates and binds people of the same trade with a special rapport. They like to puff with company rather than alone. When puffing with companies, the members often recognises the group as a gang of the same kind. A form of socialising. The term "social smoking" probably derived from this aspect. Besides that, I heard that puffing in the cubicle is an enjoyment too, which I never tried before. Fortunately, in my case, it wasn't addictive at all, or yet. Thus I am able to just experience the joy of socialising, in exchange of a minute of lifespan per stick, once in a while.
I started this entry intending to write about the conversation with Lam. The cigarettes had, however, caused the sidetrack. Now, back to the topic. We talked about future plans, current situations, and recollecting cheesy incidents of the past. Amidst the conversation, I started pondering upon my behavior lately. I was very into pink colour when it wasn't in trend yet. I wore pink outdoors to receive stares which, at that time, I don't feel quite comfortable with. Then the long hair, followed by a rebond, and a dress sense which people branded as "gay". I came out with this conclusion that I am one attention seeker. I have been looking towards the direction of fame and fortune. I attribute this to the moulding effect of the contemporary trend in Singapore's hectic city lifestyle. I experience ecstasy when I am caught in limelight. It does not neccessarily refer to stardom (though it would not be bad), but it means attaining, in the respective field, a standard high enough to gain publicity. This would well satisfy the thirst for ecstasy as an attention seeker.
We touched on relationship issues concerning boy-girl, father-son, and brotherhood. I never have less to speak when it comes to this. Perhaps a chance to lament. But it always feel good to whine. I like talking about my problems. And perhaps another chance to seek attention? We carried on for an hour plus at the cafe. And by the time Lam need to catch a cab back to camp, there were 8 sticks in the ashtray...
A stick each sets in in a routine manner. I was on annual leave this very day. And it's always these days when I meet those "pig-dog" buddies that I found the nicotine level running in my blood rising. What had been so magical about this stick in the mouth then, which many insisted on puffing on despite the clear fact that it is detrimental to the body.
My first puff was about a year ago, whilst in the jungles of Temburong, when my detail were ultimately morale strickened as we were lost in the cold rain. On top of tiredness and hunger and insects, my buddy's map was missing, and we were ordered cease our navigation and backtrack to look for it . We sat down in a circle, despaired, a magical stick (initiated by Shiyi) started to go round the group. Some took a puff, some merely sniffed at it.
In my opinion, this senseless tobacco has a spiritual effect. I associate this with camaraderie. It creates and binds people of the same trade with a special rapport. They like to puff with company rather than alone. When puffing with companies, the members often recognises the group as a gang of the same kind. A form of socialising. The term "social smoking" probably derived from this aspect. Besides that, I heard that puffing in the cubicle is an enjoyment too, which I never tried before. Fortunately, in my case, it wasn't addictive at all, or yet. Thus I am able to just experience the joy of socialising, in exchange of a minute of lifespan per stick, once in a while.
I started this entry intending to write about the conversation with Lam. The cigarettes had, however, caused the sidetrack. Now, back to the topic. We talked about future plans, current situations, and recollecting cheesy incidents of the past. Amidst the conversation, I started pondering upon my behavior lately. I was very into pink colour when it wasn't in trend yet. I wore pink outdoors to receive stares which, at that time, I don't feel quite comfortable with. Then the long hair, followed by a rebond, and a dress sense which people branded as "gay". I came out with this conclusion that I am one attention seeker. I have been looking towards the direction of fame and fortune. I attribute this to the moulding effect of the contemporary trend in Singapore's hectic city lifestyle. I experience ecstasy when I am caught in limelight. It does not neccessarily refer to stardom (though it would not be bad), but it means attaining, in the respective field, a standard high enough to gain publicity. This would well satisfy the thirst for ecstasy as an attention seeker.
We touched on relationship issues concerning boy-girl, father-son, and brotherhood. I never have less to speak when it comes to this. Perhaps a chance to lament. But it always feel good to whine. I like talking about my problems. And perhaps another chance to seek attention? We carried on for an hour plus at the cafe. And by the time Lam need to catch a cab back to camp, there were 8 sticks in the ashtray...
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Geylang Lorong 13
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After attending Mr John Lim's memorial ceremony, the bunch of NYJC soccer cum noisy gang went to Geylang for the beef hor fun. Ah Pang simply obeys the auntie taking the orders:
"Want xiao long bao?"
"Give us 2 baskets of that."
"How about guo tie?"
"err.. ok lah. 2 lor."
"Carrot cakes?"
"anything lah. make it 2 also."
It's been a while since I saw this bunch. What Minglu said was rather true. "We had been trying to meet each other out for supper or a drink, but we never did. It's always in this kind of situation, a funeral or a wedding, when we catch up with each other." Here we are stepping into another era. Adulthood means getting invited to wedding dinners and paying respects at funeral wakes.
Guofeng and I had managed to pay a last respect to our well respected teacher in spite of all the getting lost and meeting late. We arrived at 9pm (it started 7:30pm) to hear the MC annouce the end of the ceremony, and see everyone leaving. Even though there was no bowing or joss sticks involved, I was glad that at least I was in time to step into the hall to pay him my respect, in my heart.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
It just disappears...
As usual, I ran to the newspaper stand and scrambled for the 80 cents. The train would be approaching in another minute. Fumbling with The Straits Times, I scanned the EZ-link, dashed for the closing doors, found a seat to perk myself up with a current affairs of a brand new day. It appears that I had reached the stage of life that every day seemed so defined. If I stick to the routine, I would doze off from the papers by the time I reach Chua Chu Kang. But on this particular Tuesday, I didn't.
14th DEC 2004. The headlines of the cover page read "Honeymooners die in NZ car crash". It showed a picture of a lady. I regard it as just another common piece of news, which I would read to kill the time during the train ride.
"A SINGAPOREAN couple on their honeymoon in New Zealand died on the spot when their rented car smashed head-on into an oncoming truck on a highway on Friday.... Mr Lim, 31, was a physical education teacher at Nanyang Junior College... (More on H1...) "
Craving a chance for denial, I took out the Home page, but only to see John Lim's photo.
I always had to dart from John Lim and his gang of PE teachers when I discretely enter the gate of the school at 10am, however, trying to look cool about it. Not that I'll be screwed for being late, but they will spot my natural brown hair easily, which leads to the issue of the intolerable length of the hair... After school dismissal, he would sometimes be around to spot for improper attire at the court. Despite all that, John Lim was the Mr Nice Guy.
Upon reaching camp that same Tuesday, I informed Eugene of the news. Having only spent his first three months at NYJC, he recalled, "he was the one who gave me a massage before the cross-country..."
I seldom interacted with John Lim. Nonetheless I was utterly disappointed and sorry that he is dead. It was rather unbelievable. I carried this mentality that another person whom I don't see or hear from would ever continue to live on elsewhere on this surface of Earth. But apparently this is not true.
Lately there was the wake. I did not felt much for the deceased, only concern for the related ones. That was probably because I had never met him in person.
When I visited mum last week, I was told of the condition of her sister. My memory of her strecthed back to the time when she used to call me every night just to ask me, "have you eaten your dinner?" She is almost insane now.
Grandpa came back to my house for a short stay. I didn't know when he came, when he left, how long he stayed, not even a glimpse of his features. I only hear his voices when I was awaken from the hangover from the Maju Dinner, Zouk, followed by a beach volleyball at Sentosa. I was a dead log when I was back home in the afternoon. He came into my room and talked to bro. Vividly, I heard him saying that the travelling was killing him. He began to talk to me, we had a really short conversation, which seemed like a dream to me even now. He asked me about my ORD. After waking up, he was not around anymore, and I had difficulty differentiating dream from reality. A sense of guilt striked me badly in the midst of the dizzy spell. I should have talked more to him, make more eye contact to him, for I contain the fear of not seeing him anymore. He barely come to my house anymore, sometimes once per half a year. I explain this situation with the aftermath of the family misfortune. Everyone grew so cold and isolated. Everyone either stay out late or lock himself up in the room. Grandpa came here only to rest on the sofa, waiting to listen to the news at 6pm and 10pm. Nothing much other than that. Not even interaction. He had complaint to others that his son doesn't care for him anymore. But, dad's problem already deal him a blow strong enough to almost cause him a suicide. What more could he have cared for? I chided myself for the lack of concern. I might not be able to show it anymore soon, however much I want to.
A couple of times when I look at my dad's backview as he washes the dishes at the sink, my thoughts often run wild. I thought, what could be the consequence if my dad is not around anymore?
The vulnerability of a man is often neglected. People simply assumes that life only ends when one grows old. However, the earth continues to spin without your presence. Every mother's son is a dispensable individual.
14th DEC 2004. The headlines of the cover page read "Honeymooners die in NZ car crash". It showed a picture of a lady. I regard it as just another common piece of news, which I would read to kill the time during the train ride.
"A SINGAPOREAN couple on their honeymoon in New Zealand died on the spot when their rented car smashed head-on into an oncoming truck on a highway on Friday.... Mr Lim, 31, was a physical education teacher at Nanyang Junior College... (More on H1...) "
Craving a chance for denial, I took out the Home page, but only to see John Lim's photo.
I always had to dart from John Lim and his gang of PE teachers when I discretely enter the gate of the school at 10am, however, trying to look cool about it. Not that I'll be screwed for being late, but they will spot my natural brown hair easily, which leads to the issue of the intolerable length of the hair... After school dismissal, he would sometimes be around to spot for improper attire at the court. Despite all that, John Lim was the Mr Nice Guy.
Upon reaching camp that same Tuesday, I informed Eugene of the news. Having only spent his first three months at NYJC, he recalled, "he was the one who gave me a massage before the cross-country..."
I seldom interacted with John Lim. Nonetheless I was utterly disappointed and sorry that he is dead. It was rather unbelievable. I carried this mentality that another person whom I don't see or hear from would ever continue to live on elsewhere on this surface of Earth. But apparently this is not true.
Lately there was the wake. I did not felt much for the deceased, only concern for the related ones. That was probably because I had never met him in person.
When I visited mum last week, I was told of the condition of her sister. My memory of her strecthed back to the time when she used to call me every night just to ask me, "have you eaten your dinner?" She is almost insane now.
Grandpa came back to my house for a short stay. I didn't know when he came, when he left, how long he stayed, not even a glimpse of his features. I only hear his voices when I was awaken from the hangover from the Maju Dinner, Zouk, followed by a beach volleyball at Sentosa. I was a dead log when I was back home in the afternoon. He came into my room and talked to bro. Vividly, I heard him saying that the travelling was killing him. He began to talk to me, we had a really short conversation, which seemed like a dream to me even now. He asked me about my ORD. After waking up, he was not around anymore, and I had difficulty differentiating dream from reality. A sense of guilt striked me badly in the midst of the dizzy spell. I should have talked more to him, make more eye contact to him, for I contain the fear of not seeing him anymore. He barely come to my house anymore, sometimes once per half a year. I explain this situation with the aftermath of the family misfortune. Everyone grew so cold and isolated. Everyone either stay out late or lock himself up in the room. Grandpa came here only to rest on the sofa, waiting to listen to the news at 6pm and 10pm. Nothing much other than that. Not even interaction. He had complaint to others that his son doesn't care for him anymore. But, dad's problem already deal him a blow strong enough to almost cause him a suicide. What more could he have cared for? I chided myself for the lack of concern. I might not be able to show it anymore soon, however much I want to.
A couple of times when I look at my dad's backview as he washes the dishes at the sink, my thoughts often run wild. I thought, what could be the consequence if my dad is not around anymore?
The vulnerability of a man is often neglected. People simply assumes that life only ends when one grows old. However, the earth continues to spin without your presence. Every mother's son is a dispensable individual.
Friday, December 10, 2004
Alamak
Eugene did an analysis on my situation today, again. This time it really got me thinking real deep. For that I missed to alight at the MRT station. I was thinking about the damned situation that I am going to face. I called the HDB 2 days ago, and enquired about the situation of our property. It was catastophic. Now that dad and bro were bringing no cash home, I know that it was up to me to shoulder all the shit. I ain't complaining, and I really need to plan and measure the risk ahead...
HDB debt is piling on every month. It's been around 6 months since the last payment. For that, we paid a "tribute" of 1.8k to HDB. (And the HDB guy I talked to happened to be named Chin...) This screwed up system had to be curbed immediately. If we sell it, I estimate a leftover of 20k.. With that, I wonder how much shelter a family of 3 can get. Moreover, if HDB debt exceeds a certain limit, our current shelter will taken away, and there might be a ban from getting another unit under HDB.
Though I dreaded for the day to come, but now that its nearing, I feel lost. Any other A-level graduate would persue the further education somewhere after ORD. I am undecided now. 2 years back, having fooled around and thus achieving a result that no local subsidised University would wana enrol me for its business degree. Private university is probably the only way out, but considering the course fees on top of the debts, I would be like paying for the rest of my life. This route does not seem attractive.
One rational path is to carry on working for SAF. Rational as it may be (in terms of financial), I would be giving up my desire for a job satisfaction. On the other hand, I would be staying in a regimental and inflexible working environment, where a simple game of soccer would require setting up of water points and tons of paperwork. I simply cannot stand it, not even for a short 3 year contract that can pay me 2k per month plus a huge lump sum, or even a subsidy for my further studies.
Start working with a 'A' Level education? Not a wise choice for I would not be employed in a reputable firm. I would then probably be competing in hunting for jobs with other 'O' and 'A' level students that just graduated. A DBS roadshow promoter? Or a server at Chinablack hoping to get transferred into the bar section? How about becoming Singapore Idol?
There's one other path that I'm considering to take instead. It involves a high level of risk, and also debt. If sucessful, however, it can clear up the debts in about 5 years time, and provide for the course fees for further studies. Being my own boss would definitely be a risky venture for a greenhorn like me. I might plan for a simple startup, which requires another steepy loan. Although I very much want to go into studies as early as possible, but it seems foolhardy and a wrong timing now. A failure would probably thrash my hopes for a further study in a near future...
3 months more to a another phase of life. This new phase would be the roughest ride I would face in the 20 years. Well, the storm was over and now it's up to me solely to rebuild what was dad, bro and me have lost. I gladly shoulder this wreckage (and perhaps prepare for a greater one).
HDB debt is piling on every month. It's been around 6 months since the last payment. For that, we paid a "tribute" of 1.8k to HDB. (And the HDB guy I talked to happened to be named Chin...) This screwed up system had to be curbed immediately. If we sell it, I estimate a leftover of 20k.. With that, I wonder how much shelter a family of 3 can get. Moreover, if HDB debt exceeds a certain limit, our current shelter will taken away, and there might be a ban from getting another unit under HDB.
Though I dreaded for the day to come, but now that its nearing, I feel lost. Any other A-level graduate would persue the further education somewhere after ORD. I am undecided now. 2 years back, having fooled around and thus achieving a result that no local subsidised University would wana enrol me for its business degree. Private university is probably the only way out, but considering the course fees on top of the debts, I would be like paying for the rest of my life. This route does not seem attractive.
One rational path is to carry on working for SAF. Rational as it may be (in terms of financial), I would be giving up my desire for a job satisfaction. On the other hand, I would be staying in a regimental and inflexible working environment, where a simple game of soccer would require setting up of water points and tons of paperwork. I simply cannot stand it, not even for a short 3 year contract that can pay me 2k per month plus a huge lump sum, or even a subsidy for my further studies.
Start working with a 'A' Level education? Not a wise choice for I would not be employed in a reputable firm. I would then probably be competing in hunting for jobs with other 'O' and 'A' level students that just graduated. A DBS roadshow promoter? Or a server at Chinablack hoping to get transferred into the bar section? How about becoming Singapore Idol?
There's one other path that I'm considering to take instead. It involves a high level of risk, and also debt. If sucessful, however, it can clear up the debts in about 5 years time, and provide for the course fees for further studies. Being my own boss would definitely be a risky venture for a greenhorn like me. I might plan for a simple startup, which requires another steepy loan. Although I very much want to go into studies as early as possible, but it seems foolhardy and a wrong timing now. A failure would probably thrash my hopes for a further study in a near future...
3 months more to a another phase of life. This new phase would be the roughest ride I would face in the 20 years. Well, the storm was over and now it's up to me solely to rebuild what was dad, bro and me have lost. I gladly shoulder this wreckage (and perhaps prepare for a greater one).
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
LOST
22th NOVEMBER 2004, 0720 hrs.
I lost my most cherished item from her.
The ban came off without notice.
I lost my most cherished item from her.
The ban came off without notice.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Laughter: the Best Medicine
Laughter improves health and extends life. Laughter increases the amount of oxygen in the blood, which not only helps healing and improves circulation, it also expands the blood vessels close to the skin's surface. It can also lower the heart rate, dilate the arteries, stimulate appetite and burn calories. Laughters stimulates and releases endorphins,the body's natural body pain killer and 'feel good' enhancers, which release stress and heal the body. 1 minute of solid laughter provides up to 45 minutes of subsequent relaxation. Having similar chemical composition to morphine and heroin, endorphins have a tranquillising effect on the body, while building on immune system.
Laughter occurs more with social interaction. Watching a comedy alone would result in laughters significantly less than when watching it with a friend, or even a stranger. When you smile at one person, they will almost always return the smile, which causes positive feelings in both parties. Encounters will run smoothly and last longer, have positive outcomes and dramatically improves relationship. Smiles and laughters are contagious. When you give someone a smile,it causes them to reciprocate by returning a smile, even if both are faking it.The unconscious mind exerts direct control of the facial muscles. Naturally, it would be hard to smile at a frowning face, vice versa. People literally mirrors facial expressions.
When one is tensed, angry or sad, he holds a kind of expression similiar to that of a bulldog expression. If he holds this negative emotions throughout the lifetime, the expression will evolve into a permanent bulldog expression.
Pals, humour heals. Stay happy and do not miss any chance to have a good laugh.
Laughter occurs more with social interaction. Watching a comedy alone would result in laughters significantly less than when watching it with a friend, or even a stranger. When you smile at one person, they will almost always return the smile, which causes positive feelings in both parties. Encounters will run smoothly and last longer, have positive outcomes and dramatically improves relationship. Smiles and laughters are contagious. When you give someone a smile,it causes them to reciprocate by returning a smile, even if both are faking it.The unconscious mind exerts direct control of the facial muscles. Naturally, it would be hard to smile at a frowning face, vice versa. People literally mirrors facial expressions.
When one is tensed, angry or sad, he holds a kind of expression similiar to that of a bulldog expression. If he holds this negative emotions throughout the lifetime, the expression will evolve into a permanent bulldog expression.
Pals, humour heals. Stay happy and do not miss any chance to have a good laugh.
Monday, November 01, 2004
Nothing but whining.. I need life man.. Help
Fuck this whole damn week. Screwed up during the working days, and boredom invades when I'm finally freed from work. Not that I'm whining about having work to do, but things just goes wrong. No dates + no cash + no company + boredom= no life. There hasn't been much entertainment lately. The rain outside the window is provoking the dampened spirits.
I spent the whole morning watching pirated VCDs taken from Robert. The camera man who shot the Johnny English simply sux. If he can't get a good seat, then don't film it! Taken from the front rows, it was fustrating to see every fuck shit slanted. No soccer today, no extented hours of mahjong, no movies... Only me, myself, my room, my book, my com. Even my PS2 is showing temper. The pin broke when I plugged it out from the holes. Damned.
Just saw Jialong's blog. Man he's enjoying every bit of life. I kinda get jealous of him as I whine all this crap in front of the screen, while it's pouring hell outside. What a lonely Sunday. Don't even feel like having lunch.
Last night's mahjong with the monkey clan was terrible. Morale hit rock bottom when I entered the game as they were into their 6th round. I gave my virgin "bao qing" to Robert. Somemore it's "man tai". The songs from Simon's mp3 player were also contributing to the irritating headache.
I took over 2 duties for this week. The second duty was rather hectic. My duty clerk is a first timer, and a newly enlisted (less than a month old) soldier. Thankfully this chubby fellow is willing to learn, but handling a newbie is still a chore. He had my DO account an intruder locked out by entering the wrong password thrice (and he's certain he got it correct), and that leads to some extra shitty chores. Next, someone called the ops room to look for me. Chubby called me while I was on the bike to clear armskotes, and told me "Sir, Div 1 Commander is looking for you!" What the hell was that?? Div 1? Is there such a division? And he is so damn sure about it. I called back later, and it's DY Commander... It was a late night for me as I ended up teaching the bugger how to be a duty clerk. And he snores.
On the night Eugene's on duty, Boss gave a late arrow. Man it's 11 pm, and we were tasked to finish a report. Poor Eugene who stayed up the night before playing "Dead or Alive Beach Volleyball", was deprived of his much needed rest. He dozed off a couple of times while thinking how to phrase the shit. The report was finished at 1am, as the most no effort report ever did by us.
Hell do I need to add some spice to my life. I need to find entertaining activities that can be done alone. Something more enriching and active than gaming or reading. Maybe some community service or self travelling? With boredom like this corroding me, I might as well go back to Chinablack and put on my superman suit.
I spent the whole morning watching pirated VCDs taken from Robert. The camera man who shot the Johnny English simply sux. If he can't get a good seat, then don't film it! Taken from the front rows, it was fustrating to see every fuck shit slanted. No soccer today, no extented hours of mahjong, no movies... Only me, myself, my room, my book, my com. Even my PS2 is showing temper. The pin broke when I plugged it out from the holes. Damned.
Just saw Jialong's blog. Man he's enjoying every bit of life. I kinda get jealous of him as I whine all this crap in front of the screen, while it's pouring hell outside. What a lonely Sunday. Don't even feel like having lunch.
Last night's mahjong with the monkey clan was terrible. Morale hit rock bottom when I entered the game as they were into their 6th round. I gave my virgin "bao qing" to Robert. Somemore it's "man tai". The songs from Simon's mp3 player were also contributing to the irritating headache.
I took over 2 duties for this week. The second duty was rather hectic. My duty clerk is a first timer, and a newly enlisted (less than a month old) soldier. Thankfully this chubby fellow is willing to learn, but handling a newbie is still a chore. He had my DO account an intruder locked out by entering the wrong password thrice (and he's certain he got it correct), and that leads to some extra shitty chores. Next, someone called the ops room to look for me. Chubby called me while I was on the bike to clear armskotes, and told me "Sir, Div 1 Commander is looking for you!" What the hell was that?? Div 1? Is there such a division? And he is so damn sure about it. I called back later, and it's DY Commander... It was a late night for me as I ended up teaching the bugger how to be a duty clerk. And he snores.
On the night Eugene's on duty, Boss gave a late arrow. Man it's 11 pm, and we were tasked to finish a report. Poor Eugene who stayed up the night before playing "Dead or Alive Beach Volleyball", was deprived of his much needed rest. He dozed off a couple of times while thinking how to phrase the shit. The report was finished at 1am, as the most no effort report ever did by us.
Hell do I need to add some spice to my life. I need to find entertaining activities that can be done alone. Something more enriching and active than gaming or reading. Maybe some community service or self travelling? With boredom like this corroding me, I might as well go back to Chinablack and put on my superman suit.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
I'm a Superman
Weekends are never the same again, cuz I'm the superman. Previously, weekends' night lives are the highlights of the weeks. But for the past 3 weeks, I never really had time to chill out. Work after work, until I fell sick 3 days ago. Down with fever and an irritating cough, I rested at home since Wednesday afternoon til Saturday evening. Still tortured by the tormenting headache, I had requested not to go to the club house on Friday night. Finally I still have to go. On Fridays, superman work 24 hours, almost non-stop. And after the Saturday night shifts, superman reached home Sunday morning 5am. Soccer match normally kick off 9am, which means 2 hours to sleep! However cool as the edge of steel, superman still give his best and performs in the games, although it's bound to be sub-standard. Supermen may be tough, but they never have long lives.
Clubbing is detrimental to health, in the long run. Firstly, the music. The damage done to the ears are hazardous. When it's already damn bloody loud, and people need to talk to you, he will shout into the ear drum. It almost burst my ear drum once as I felt it vibrated vigorously when one guy merely wanted a beer. Damn. Next, I am supposed to collect the tent cards and place them on top the cabinet. I had put them on top the speaker instead. Arranged neatly, I went away for a while. Then I came back, in a rage, "who the hell messed up my arrangement?" I realised that it was the vibration of the speaker. I can't believe people can dance in front of the speaker. It's either they are deaf, or they cannot hear.
Secondly, the lights. The flashing lights never fail to cast a dizzy spell on me when the DJ activates it. In the darkness, these sudden appearance of the light is an irritant to the eyes, as they are used to the dark environment.
Thirdly, the air. In the house, the air is literally 2nd hand smoke with every breath you take in. I can't see the smoke in the darkness. However I only realised that the smell of the club house is nothing but cigarettes smoke when I happened to breathe in 2nd hand smoke elsewhere out in the open air, and thought, 'hey this smells familiar. It's like my uniform!' I deem it healthier to puff a few sticks out in the streets yourself than to hang around in the house for a few hours.
Fourthly, the drink. For the clubbers, overdose of liquour definitely damage the brain and the body, especially the liver. I often see people who can't hold. They can't stand on their own, they squat by the wall, they lean on the table, and they leave their residues on the floor. And their next precious day (which is a weekend) is wasted.
The above 4 points covers 4 out of our 5 human senses. It is slowly scraping away bits of a man's live as it takes actions on the 4 senses. However, (applicable to guys only) the 5th sense, the sense of touch, often provides psychologically pleasure effect when mars and venus brushed against each other. p.s. this ain't true for me, cuz when I'm on the job, I'm in no mood for such 'pleasures'.
Being nocturnal also has adverse effects upon man. It all eventually leads to a shorter lifespan. Clubbing can allow one to attain 'high'. But when going into further considerations, is it a moment of ecstasy, or a moment of folly?
Clubbing is detrimental to health, in the long run. Firstly, the music. The damage done to the ears are hazardous. When it's already damn bloody loud, and people need to talk to you, he will shout into the ear drum. It almost burst my ear drum once as I felt it vibrated vigorously when one guy merely wanted a beer. Damn. Next, I am supposed to collect the tent cards and place them on top the cabinet. I had put them on top the speaker instead. Arranged neatly, I went away for a while. Then I came back, in a rage, "who the hell messed up my arrangement?" I realised that it was the vibration of the speaker. I can't believe people can dance in front of the speaker. It's either they are deaf, or they cannot hear.
Secondly, the lights. The flashing lights never fail to cast a dizzy spell on me when the DJ activates it. In the darkness, these sudden appearance of the light is an irritant to the eyes, as they are used to the dark environment.
Thirdly, the air. In the house, the air is literally 2nd hand smoke with every breath you take in. I can't see the smoke in the darkness. However I only realised that the smell of the club house is nothing but cigarettes smoke when I happened to breathe in 2nd hand smoke elsewhere out in the open air, and thought, 'hey this smells familiar. It's like my uniform!' I deem it healthier to puff a few sticks out in the streets yourself than to hang around in the house for a few hours.
Fourthly, the drink. For the clubbers, overdose of liquour definitely damage the brain and the body, especially the liver. I often see people who can't hold. They can't stand on their own, they squat by the wall, they lean on the table, and they leave their residues on the floor. And their next precious day (which is a weekend) is wasted.
The above 4 points covers 4 out of our 5 human senses. It is slowly scraping away bits of a man's live as it takes actions on the 4 senses. However, (applicable to guys only) the 5th sense, the sense of touch, often provides psychologically pleasure effect when mars and venus brushed against each other. p.s. this ain't true for me, cuz when I'm on the job, I'm in no mood for such 'pleasures'.
Being nocturnal also has adverse effects upon man. It all eventually leads to a shorter lifespan. Clubbing can allow one to attain 'high'. But when going into further considerations, is it a moment of ecstasy, or a moment of folly?
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Simplicity
A lot of things are missing in my life. Every now and then I get this unfulfilled and sucky feeling. A lot of things need to be done and I am doing nothing. I thought I need some motivation, but idling wouldn't bring about any either. Channel U broadcasted this show "leng nuan ren jian shi" yesterday. The show highlighted the life of the group from the TOUCH, a home for adults with mild intellectual disability. It featured 3 of them. I sensed the satisfaction from within them when they obtain the simple necessitites in life. A lady hopes to buy a house when she reaches 35, to live with her elder brother, who is also mentally intellectually disabled. It's true, as the saying goes: one finds happiness when he don't demands. Is it possible for me to lower my expectations in life, and would it bring about happiness eventually? I have been picturing in my mind that wealth and luxury is a part of my later phase of life. And putting tangibles aside, how can I influence relationships and emotions to affect my happiness? At this stage, I have not found my solution, but instead realised that I am the solution to some other. I hope that he does feel it, when I had taken 2 meals with him for the past 4 days. I always cannot seem to recall when I had my previous meal with him. It seemed ages. Even though conversation was rather minimal, it was a zillion times better than dining alone. Especially when dinner was cooked on Sundays, and he ended up dining alone in the living room. The share of three unfinished, either left to rot slowly in the fridge, one day... one week.. then desposed away in despair and agony. Why cook when no one comes home for dinner? Simple actions do mean alot. Simplicity may bring about simple happiness. But I crave for the taste of glory and sucess, and perhaps fame. Would I lose the simple happiness I that I could enjoy whilst in the hunt for fame and glory? Or perhaps I can achieve both at the same time. But for now, I need to find out what has been missing in my life, that had caused me to feel the emptiness...
Monday, October 11, 2004
4-2
No Yongren, no Guoan, no Faizal, no Eddie, no Kan Di, Jialong to arrive only at second half. 11 men to start with. Opponent was a newly formed squad, and multi-racial.
About 20 minutes into the game, we were 2 goals down. I felt the match without Captain Fu's distribution had curbed our attacking. Without our left-wing, I felt that I had posessed the ball more than usual. Weixiang misjudged a simple lob, and Jason had let the indian attacker loose for a one-on-one. I did not like to lose to people that I do not know, for I don't recognise their skills yet. Somemore they were a team made up of Marseille and Real Madrid jersey.
We had a mountain to climb. Then came an underserved goal from us. A fluke goal, but it brought back the composure, and since then triggered off our endless series of attacks. The 2 hours of sleep after Chinablack certainly affected the stamina. I was blessed to be guarded by a slow left back, however good at clearing. A through ball to Clement had allowed him to display his paced-finshing equaliser. Half time ended a draw of 2 goals each. Morale was further raised when Jialong came back from attending to his dear sheep. Leon was brought to left back, forming the usual partners in crime. It always feels shiok to see how him and Jialong took the ball from our side to their penalty box, otherwise rewarded with a corner kick.
3rd goal was the goal of the match. Wujie's corner went straight in, the same kind of goal I conceded in the match against AJC people. Weixiang took the striker position and redeemed his conceded goal with a classic header from a cross. 2nd half was a one-sided affair in our favour. Kenneth nearly headed in a corner, and we built up some really cool setups. 4-2, the final scoreline. I thought this was a way of wishing Yongren a happy birthday: a victory from his team, although yet again.
Perfect. It all was class to me. The team whose victories not really brought about by the 'trainings' we had, but by the years of bonds and understanding constructed.
About 20 minutes into the game, we were 2 goals down. I felt the match without Captain Fu's distribution had curbed our attacking. Without our left-wing, I felt that I had posessed the ball more than usual. Weixiang misjudged a simple lob, and Jason had let the indian attacker loose for a one-on-one. I did not like to lose to people that I do not know, for I don't recognise their skills yet. Somemore they were a team made up of Marseille and Real Madrid jersey.
We had a mountain to climb. Then came an underserved goal from us. A fluke goal, but it brought back the composure, and since then triggered off our endless series of attacks. The 2 hours of sleep after Chinablack certainly affected the stamina. I was blessed to be guarded by a slow left back, however good at clearing. A through ball to Clement had allowed him to display his paced-finshing equaliser. Half time ended a draw of 2 goals each. Morale was further raised when Jialong came back from attending to his dear sheep. Leon was brought to left back, forming the usual partners in crime. It always feels shiok to see how him and Jialong took the ball from our side to their penalty box, otherwise rewarded with a corner kick.
3rd goal was the goal of the match. Wujie's corner went straight in, the same kind of goal I conceded in the match against AJC people. Weixiang took the striker position and redeemed his conceded goal with a classic header from a cross. 2nd half was a one-sided affair in our favour. Kenneth nearly headed in a corner, and we built up some really cool setups. 4-2, the final scoreline. I thought this was a way of wishing Yongren a happy birthday: a victory from his team, although yet again.
Perfect. It all was class to me. The team whose victories not really brought about by the 'trainings' we had, but by the years of bonds and understanding constructed.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
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Delta Platoon 2 : ACPC
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I feel this was one of the best pic ever taken.. AS IF Shiyi was leading the horde. Maybe that was why I wasn't in it... (actually I was doing sai kang).
Monday, October 04, 2004
Twin promotions for Jack Daniels!!!
Past 2 days @ChinaBlack. Quite a new and gala experience for me, a non clubber. A strenuous 16 hours of walking to and fro the alley, I experienced a couple of first times. My first time to light a cigarette for a lady; first time knowing a lady at a club; first tips from a wrong order taken for a Kilkenny. He was given a tequila shot instead. Angeline was the first friend I met.
The staffs are so far quite nice people. But they all looked older than they are, at least to me. I thought Shermaine is 26 when she's 23. I thought Jaslyn is 23 when she's 20. Weilun looks 27, but he's 23. Danny seems like 23 instead of 21. I heard Mr nice manager Andy was sacked on my second day. He is a damn cool guy. Boss Victor looks like Yekai, but a more confident and strict one....
All thanks to Eddie's connection, I got this oppuntunity, which is a step towards my ultimate plan. In addition I have a more money for my future studies and debts and expenditure, and an expanding network, acquiring new knowledge, learning to be savoir-faire.
The staffs are so far quite nice people. But they all looked older than they are, at least to me. I thought Shermaine is 26 when she's 23. I thought Jaslyn is 23 when she's 20. Weilun looks 27, but he's 23. Danny seems like 23 instead of 21. I heard Mr nice manager Andy was sacked on my second day. He is a damn cool guy. Boss Victor looks like Yekai, but a more confident and strict one....
All thanks to Eddie's connection, I got this oppuntunity, which is a step towards my ultimate plan. In addition I have a more money for my future studies and debts and expenditure, and an expanding network, acquiring new knowledge, learning to be savoir-faire.
Car = ?
Today's Guofeng's birthday. We certainly have had a great lunch at Seoul Garden Ang Mo Kio. Hanjun, Gan, Guofeng, me. Robert went for a play with "Fatimah". We had a fun and quality conversation. Our topic of the day was CARS...
Well, Gan is gleefully driving in his SLK. However he couldn't resist checking out the cool BMW convertable (high perfomance, but high maintenance). Robert is a happy man, who settles for a Proton Wira (Malay model), after meeting with an accident a year back, crashing the old looking model. Hanjun just got his hands on a Nissan Cerfiro, and is obviously contented with it. He never got to drive all these years. Guofeng admited that he is not craved out for driving though, even after few attempts to get one. He would carry on taking public transport for the moment. Me? Hrmmm.. I currently shared the bus with Guofeng. I concluded I'm not suited to drive my previous Mountain Jeep, even when I really adore the car alot. The jeep defeated its very own purpose as I drove it on the expressways when it was meant for the rocky mountaineous paths. I realised that I couldn't even co-ordinate the accelerator and brakes well. I had jumped into the car too quickly, and decided on it without much hesitation. Sometimes, you really have to do a research on the car that you are eyeing on. Now that I'm travelling on the bus, I sweetly recall my times with the jeep. Recently I've seen the jeep, newly painted, upgraded. I'm happy for her for doing so well. Hope she does find a new owner who can drive with purpose served.
Well, Gan is gleefully driving in his SLK. However he couldn't resist checking out the cool BMW convertable (high perfomance, but high maintenance). Robert is a happy man, who settles for a Proton Wira (Malay model), after meeting with an accident a year back, crashing the old looking model. Hanjun just got his hands on a Nissan Cerfiro, and is obviously contented with it. He never got to drive all these years. Guofeng admited that he is not craved out for driving though, even after few attempts to get one. He would carry on taking public transport for the moment. Me? Hrmmm.. I currently shared the bus with Guofeng. I concluded I'm not suited to drive my previous Mountain Jeep, even when I really adore the car alot. The jeep defeated its very own purpose as I drove it on the expressways when it was meant for the rocky mountaineous paths. I realised that I couldn't even co-ordinate the accelerator and brakes well. I had jumped into the car too quickly, and decided on it without much hesitation. Sometimes, you really have to do a research on the car that you are eyeing on. Now that I'm travelling on the bus, I sweetly recall my times with the jeep. Recently I've seen the jeep, newly painted, upgraded. I'm happy for her for doing so well. Hope she does find a new owner who can drive with purpose served.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Show me the meaning of feeling lonely~~~
Mid-autumn festival. Just came home from the investigation branch. It seems a rather bad day for everyone. Eugene had been rushing his powerpoint presentation which met with a last minute screw up. Commander and gang were waiting at the conference room for him. Alas he resolved the problem. Next came the disappointing incident at the investigation branch. It dragged from noon til 8pm. I don't like the atmosphere inside there. It made all my guys looked stress. I felt uneasy. I spent 80% of the time waiting, 20% the time trying to accept a shocking fact. Anyway the truth was out.
Supposed to meet Guoan and co for dinner at 6pm. As I walked out of the camp, reluctantly leaving Bryan and Fabian stranded, I immediately rushed for a cab, hoping to get home asap to get changed and make it for the dinner. If I turn up, they would only be around for another one hour. Suck. I really wanted to meet them, I was feeling down, and wanted company.
Supposed to meet Guoan and co for dinner at 6pm. As I walked out of the camp, reluctantly leaving Bryan and Fabian stranded, I immediately rushed for a cab, hoping to get home asap to get changed and make it for the dinner. If I turn up, they would only be around for another one hour. Suck. I really wanted to meet them, I was feeling down, and wanted company.
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Paper-Thin
I was really surprised when I received a SMS from her last week. And so we had arranged to meet up today, since I last saw her on 16th June, exactly 3 months ago. Work is piling up back in camp and these past few days have been hectic. There are so many things I had to remember, but somehow I forgot the meeting place. So I asked her again. The reply wasn't too friendly. The same old her, I thought.
Happy hour was held after work today. The alluring chicken wings and curry fishhead bidded goodbye to the first shuttle bus. The other bus was to arrive in another half an hour. Being late was the next last thing I would want to do. 7pm was the meeting time. I reached at 7.15pm, inclusive of oversleeping for an extra stop to Bugis. She was later than I was, fortunately.
The same welcoming smile greeted me, warming me the same way months before. However, the feeling was different. The new style fits her real well, bringing out her outgoing and strongheaded characteristic. I feel kinda awkward as the conversation striked. It was rather unnatural and uneasy.
She got a burger. Still stuffed from the wings and fishhead earlier, I had gotten a ice-cream pie to dine along with her. We went straight to the point. Why had she asked me out? I was gunnned down. Do I know the reason behind the breakup? I tried to recollect the events, the emotions. I was momentarily lost for words. I felt embarrassed. And I pushed the pie away. It used to be a torment for me. Passing each night without her in the picture did not happen until recently. It was hard to recollect the emotions that time had already erased.
She was upset by the fact that I had kept to myself all the time since that day. I had not responded even after I had received her parcel. I had wrote a full 3 to 4 pages letter in reply to her parcel. I wrote it the night right after I got the parcel. Even on the way back from the post office, I was so taken over by emotions. The letter was destroyed few days later when the computer crashed. I knew I could never write another letter in the same mood. Maybe it was destined not to reach her at all. I decided to wait patiently for the one and a half month before I contact her again. For this I had never expect another misunderstanding to arise. It seemed to her she was being autocratic while I just took in every command she gave, even the breaking up. I had took her pact of one and a half month so seriously, that I had to emotionally restraint myself from contacting her at all. I promised myself to keep away. It was tough in the beginning. I missed her utterly. I actually thought she had it planned in such a way it falls on my birthday. And thus so full of hope when I asked her out on my birthday. I was disappointed to see her reply. I told myself,'probably she had wanted to come out, but as always, she must be tied down by unforeseen events. She must be busy.' Nor did I receive any word from her on my birthday. A simple SMS could have been my greatest gift than anything else. I waited the whole day, and the day after. I wondered if she had forgotten, or was it intentional. That could have been the day I would officially not called her my elder sister; the day when she had said I would receive a card bigger and more wonderful than the one she made for Edmund. I thought she would not want to meet up ever again. I told myself, it's time to forget.
Upon receiving the parcel, I decided to give the album back to her, filled up. I couldn't find enough photos to fill it all up. I wanted to return it on my bithday. Then I thought I could never had the chance. I was waiting for this meeting. I did not understand why she had so cruelly sent the stuffs back to me. Did it mean that she wanted nothing more to do with me? The album was the last thing I would want to receive. It was meant for her to keep, for me to remember. I was yet disappointed again for her refusal to take it back. All these things actually act as burdens for her. They only remind her of the negative things. What more could I do? Pehaps I could keep all the happy times and sad moments to myself. Let nothing from our relationship affect her in any way. I cherished the time I had with her. These things are important to me. I will keep them dearly.
"Was our relationship that paper-thin? Yes it is..." It had been echoing in my head. She claimed she had never know me well, she had never loved me. "Paper-thin..." For all the tears I shed, all the love I gave, all the torment I went through, I protest that paper-thin is not the word to define our relationship. Perhaps it might appear so for her. I blame it in my part for not being open to her. I simply wanted everything best for her, I am willing to keep all the hurt and disappointment unmentioned, make everything looked wonderful to her favour. It was a totally wrong concept. I was not making myself transparent, so used to keeping things to myself that I seemed more of a stranger to her. It was justified for her to define it as paper-thin.
"It takes two hands to crap."
-- Jialong --
Happy hour was held after work today. The alluring chicken wings and curry fishhead bidded goodbye to the first shuttle bus. The other bus was to arrive in another half an hour. Being late was the next last thing I would want to do. 7pm was the meeting time. I reached at 7.15pm, inclusive of oversleeping for an extra stop to Bugis. She was later than I was, fortunately.
The same welcoming smile greeted me, warming me the same way months before. However, the feeling was different. The new style fits her real well, bringing out her outgoing and strongheaded characteristic. I feel kinda awkward as the conversation striked. It was rather unnatural and uneasy.
She got a burger. Still stuffed from the wings and fishhead earlier, I had gotten a ice-cream pie to dine along with her. We went straight to the point. Why had she asked me out? I was gunnned down. Do I know the reason behind the breakup? I tried to recollect the events, the emotions. I was momentarily lost for words. I felt embarrassed. And I pushed the pie away. It used to be a torment for me. Passing each night without her in the picture did not happen until recently. It was hard to recollect the emotions that time had already erased.
She was upset by the fact that I had kept to myself all the time since that day. I had not responded even after I had received her parcel. I had wrote a full 3 to 4 pages letter in reply to her parcel. I wrote it the night right after I got the parcel. Even on the way back from the post office, I was so taken over by emotions. The letter was destroyed few days later when the computer crashed. I knew I could never write another letter in the same mood. Maybe it was destined not to reach her at all. I decided to wait patiently for the one and a half month before I contact her again. For this I had never expect another misunderstanding to arise. It seemed to her she was being autocratic while I just took in every command she gave, even the breaking up. I had took her pact of one and a half month so seriously, that I had to emotionally restraint myself from contacting her at all. I promised myself to keep away. It was tough in the beginning. I missed her utterly. I actually thought she had it planned in such a way it falls on my birthday. And thus so full of hope when I asked her out on my birthday. I was disappointed to see her reply. I told myself,'probably she had wanted to come out, but as always, she must be tied down by unforeseen events. She must be busy.' Nor did I receive any word from her on my birthday. A simple SMS could have been my greatest gift than anything else. I waited the whole day, and the day after. I wondered if she had forgotten, or was it intentional. That could have been the day I would officially not called her my elder sister; the day when she had said I would receive a card bigger and more wonderful than the one she made for Edmund. I thought she would not want to meet up ever again. I told myself, it's time to forget.
Upon receiving the parcel, I decided to give the album back to her, filled up. I couldn't find enough photos to fill it all up. I wanted to return it on my bithday. Then I thought I could never had the chance. I was waiting for this meeting. I did not understand why she had so cruelly sent the stuffs back to me. Did it mean that she wanted nothing more to do with me? The album was the last thing I would want to receive. It was meant for her to keep, for me to remember. I was yet disappointed again for her refusal to take it back. All these things actually act as burdens for her. They only remind her of the negative things. What more could I do? Pehaps I could keep all the happy times and sad moments to myself. Let nothing from our relationship affect her in any way. I cherished the time I had with her. These things are important to me. I will keep them dearly.
"Was our relationship that paper-thin? Yes it is..." It had been echoing in my head. She claimed she had never know me well, she had never loved me. "Paper-thin..." For all the tears I shed, all the love I gave, all the torment I went through, I protest that paper-thin is not the word to define our relationship. Perhaps it might appear so for her. I blame it in my part for not being open to her. I simply wanted everything best for her, I am willing to keep all the hurt and disappointment unmentioned, make everything looked wonderful to her favour. It was a totally wrong concept. I was not making myself transparent, so used to keeping things to myself that I seemed more of a stranger to her. It was justified for her to define it as paper-thin.
"It takes two hands to crap."
-- Jialong --
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Filthy Lucre : Almighty Dollar!!
Today, I am especially highly motivated. Perhaps driven by the fact that I had treated myself to a half day off from Siberia, I went on to settle some personal stuffs. Suddenly I feel that I have the power to control my life. I arranged to meet my very first insurance agent. I arranged for an interview with ChinaBlack.I feel energised by the power of knowledge as I gradually learn about economics through current affairs. I booked the advanced theory. Even the least expected person had arranged to meet up. I feel accomplished. Life isn't that hard to maintain afterall.
Refreshed after a haircut, I reached home earlier than usual. And dad was home. Envelops and opened letters spread his bed. Not again, the legal firms. It seems that my home is acquainted to quite a handful in the legal sector. At least it is better off in comparison to 2 years back, when boarish debt collectors standing on one leg banged the door, making a scene. The legal firms like to bring along scotch tapes during their visits. That always leaves tearing marks on my door when I took the paper off. I like the way the legal people handle cases like mine. A writ of seizure of property... forced entry.... Act 123 Chapter 456 ... Blah..
I'm beginning to own more properties, at least in name. Everything inside the house except the title deed will soon be mine. The fridge, TV, sofa, computer, etc. Most bills are credited to my name: 3 handphone lines, internet, residential phone. Bro and I always feel the pain when our income goes to the bills. But it would be nothing compared to the debts that dad handles. Lately I'm getting involved in debts. I never bothered trying to find out more about them. I was amused when I saw the letter to seize my properties. "Oops, they have already been seized by another legal firm. Too late, nothing for you..." I will be auctioning for my home properties, and put them under my name. Only then will the pasting of stickers on my properties cease. And they are auctioning things like the whirlpool fridge at an atrocious bidding price of $200!! Darn. Damn no respect for the fridge.
I'm damn pissed at the fact we are paying the debt for someone else. Months of hard earned money down the drain. The ultimate debt came to a halt when 2 in the home were declared bankrupt. But the rest of the side debts still stand. Few thousands here and there really add up to quite alot man. And irritating court fines come in thousands. I thought I could save $300 last month. It all comes to a naught. HDB rings my mobile. Town Council and their flooding letters. But I was startled to hear one of the debtors we entertained is a loanshark. Headache... A mere $1500 and now we have already paid more than that, which are all interests. Sucker.
I come to develop a vengeful theory. No specific offence meant, but I sometimes despise rich people at my age. Some of them are simply spoilt brats, who never seem to understand a world without i-pods and computers and cars. And thus I often tell people around me that I'll rather be the one who lets my decendants enjoy my wealth, than be the one who enjoys inherited fortune. (Perhaps a way to assuage myself)
Money held a respectable position in my priorities in life. Humanity and friendship tops the list. Given the practicality of the society, I fear the day that money overtakes all others. Circumstances can possibly nurture the unscrupulous seed that had remained intact during its youth.
"I feel accomplished. Life isn't that hard to maintain afterall."
I now feel empty. Life hasn't really begun for me.
Refreshed after a haircut, I reached home earlier than usual. And dad was home. Envelops and opened letters spread his bed. Not again, the legal firms. It seems that my home is acquainted to quite a handful in the legal sector. At least it is better off in comparison to 2 years back, when boarish debt collectors standing on one leg banged the door, making a scene. The legal firms like to bring along scotch tapes during their visits. That always leaves tearing marks on my door when I took the paper off. I like the way the legal people handle cases like mine. A writ of seizure of property... forced entry.... Act 123 Chapter 456 ... Blah..
I'm beginning to own more properties, at least in name. Everything inside the house except the title deed will soon be mine. The fridge, TV, sofa, computer, etc. Most bills are credited to my name: 3 handphone lines, internet, residential phone. Bro and I always feel the pain when our income goes to the bills. But it would be nothing compared to the debts that dad handles. Lately I'm getting involved in debts. I never bothered trying to find out more about them. I was amused when I saw the letter to seize my properties. "Oops, they have already been seized by another legal firm. Too late, nothing for you..." I will be auctioning for my home properties, and put them under my name. Only then will the pasting of stickers on my properties cease. And they are auctioning things like the whirlpool fridge at an atrocious bidding price of $200!! Darn. Damn no respect for the fridge.
I'm damn pissed at the fact we are paying the debt for someone else. Months of hard earned money down the drain. The ultimate debt came to a halt when 2 in the home were declared bankrupt. But the rest of the side debts still stand. Few thousands here and there really add up to quite alot man. And irritating court fines come in thousands. I thought I could save $300 last month. It all comes to a naught. HDB rings my mobile. Town Council and their flooding letters. But I was startled to hear one of the debtors we entertained is a loanshark. Headache... A mere $1500 and now we have already paid more than that, which are all interests. Sucker.
I come to develop a vengeful theory. No specific offence meant, but I sometimes despise rich people at my age. Some of them are simply spoilt brats, who never seem to understand a world without i-pods and computers and cars. And thus I often tell people around me that I'll rather be the one who lets my decendants enjoy my wealth, than be the one who enjoys inherited fortune. (Perhaps a way to assuage myself)
Money held a respectable position in my priorities in life. Humanity and friendship tops the list. Given the practicality of the society, I fear the day that money overtakes all others. Circumstances can possibly nurture the unscrupulous seed that had remained intact during its youth.
"I feel accomplished. Life isn't that hard to maintain afterall."
I now feel empty. Life hasn't really begun for me.
Letter in Distress - Uncovered 2 Years Later
Dad has always been my hero. As an infant, I remembered his red Nissan. He drove me to Chong Shan Primary School in his grey Honda Civics. My friends awed as I alighted the dark grey BMW to Mayflower Secondary School. He subsequently drove a navy blue Benz which I never got much chance to sit in. I'm not acclaiming my dad to be my hero for his ability to change cars so often. From Malaysia, he came to Singapore as a amateur in woodscraft. Hard work paid off as he then started his own furnishing company by downgrading to the 2-room flat in AMK. The model of the car was corresponding to the sucess in his career. We moved to the current 2-storey apartment in Woodlands. It all came to an end, abruptly.
Misfortunes combo as the family splitted up. Betrayal. Mistrust. Perhaps a retribution, I almost convinced myself. What happened to mum almost 15 years ago, it was recurring on dad. This incident had lacerated me deeply. My 2 years in JC, especially the 2nd, was a rough period for me and my family. Many nights I had sat outside dad's room, in fear something terrible would happen. Recently, I just uncovered a letter I wrote during one of the nights, in distress.
I'm staring at the door. I dare not sleep, dun wana sleep, cant sleep. I fear they might set fire in the room, or jump out the window. This ain't the first time I'm sitting here, and it would be til morning again. Stepmum has been part of the happy family for the past 10 years. Aged only 12 years apart, we cliqued well.
One night dad came home, and told me," from now on, you must learn to take care of yourself." That same night, she bashed into my room, shouted for me, and his behind me, under cover. It was a night of emotional breakdown not only for the two of them. I had the shock of my life. It was a violent night. Everyone wasn't himself anymore. As if hibernated beasts were awakened.
Soon I got to know the insides of the story. Each of them told me a terrible fact about the other. I was disappointed at them. It's ugly, awful, heart shattering. Only I knew what had happened. Bro had no idea at all. I chided at my own naiveness. Once, she asked for my opinion. She said she was very unhappy in the family. She was utterly stressed out. Tired. And what an idiot was I to tell her, "everyone has the right to seek their own happiness. Deem which is the happy way out, and go for it... ..." What a damn bloody FOOL I was to tell her this. I did not realise marriage is bracketed by the legal bonds, finance, and commitments. Things that not a utterance of "seek your own happiness" can blanket over. In the pursuit for happiness, please take a look around. Would it bring the adversity to the others?
The following months were devastating. Death threats, suicidal thoughts, tears, anguish... They roamed the two-storey apartment unit. The house never looked so melancholy before. An incident nearly left the house charred if I had not stopped a impulsion to set a fire in the nick of time. The lighter was already lit. I can never dismiss the vivid scene of throwing away the oil-soaked clothes. I was near tears. Holding the hand with the fire, I exhorted, "why burn them? We can just throw them away!!"
Another night, I was at Gan's house overnight. The next day was a test. A call came at 3am. Fire threat, again. This time, my nerves seemed to have accustomed the shock. I pretended a worried, almost sobbing tone to calm him down. I did not want to go home after the test next morning. I did not wish to see fire engines and people crowding around my block, staring black smoke emitting the window at eighth floor. I sat in school, troubled. Til evening then did I pick up the courage to go home. When I reached the estate, I was relieved to see people jogging at the park, and kids playing soccer at the void-deck.
For the subsequent months, the sound of opening of the windows from his room never failed to speed up my heartbeat. Pressure was piling up inside me. I once broke down during GP lesson, desk overturned, chair fell, door slammed. I let it all out, bursting out suppressed tears, in the gents. That should have left the class astounded. And that had left me utterly disgraced.
2 years later... Things have definitely settled down. The saga reminded me of the 911 incident. The building collapsed. It was a tough time for the soul and mind. It wasn't easy accepting the reality. The debris snowed the area, waiting to be cleared. He had a rough time picking up himself, rebuilding the confidence he once proudly upheld. Years past as heartstricken people who never will forgive and forget. For him, things could never be the same again.
For me, things had changed over the years. Our relationship evolved into a stage whereby we don't see each other often. Birthdays and other special occasions are not celebrated. I do wonder why my friends would want to celebrate family member's birthdays. Wouldn't they feel akward? Sometimes I considered this running away, but I seek warmth in friends and look for love elsewhere. I'm happy when I see my friends and their blissful family, however, not envy. I can't help but sometimes feel that spending time with family is taking away time from me to spend with my friends. I feel quite bastard. Even though conscience stricken, I rather stick to having fun outside home. Anyway, no one is home most of the time. I know dad returns home every night only to face the walls. I felt his loneliness. I still don't make time for him though. Why is this so?
Misfortunes combo as the family splitted up. Betrayal. Mistrust. Perhaps a retribution, I almost convinced myself. What happened to mum almost 15 years ago, it was recurring on dad. This incident had lacerated me deeply. My 2 years in JC, especially the 2nd, was a rough period for me and my family. Many nights I had sat outside dad's room, in fear something terrible would happen. Recently, I just uncovered a letter I wrote during one of the nights, in distress.
I'm staring at the door. I dare not sleep, dun wana sleep, cant sleep. I fear they might set fire in the room, or jump out the window. This ain't the first time I'm sitting here, and it would be til morning again. Stepmum has been part of the happy family for the past 10 years. Aged only 12 years apart, we cliqued well.
One night dad came home, and told me," from now on, you must learn to take care of yourself." That same night, she bashed into my room, shouted for me, and his behind me, under cover. It was a night of emotional breakdown not only for the two of them. I had the shock of my life. It was a violent night. Everyone wasn't himself anymore. As if hibernated beasts were awakened.
Soon I got to know the insides of the story. Each of them told me a terrible fact about the other. I was disappointed at them. It's ugly, awful, heart shattering. Only I knew what had happened. Bro had no idea at all. I chided at my own naiveness. Once, she asked for my opinion. She said she was very unhappy in the family. She was utterly stressed out. Tired. And what an idiot was I to tell her, "everyone has the right to seek their own happiness. Deem which is the happy way out, and go for it... ..." What a damn bloody FOOL I was to tell her this. I did not realise marriage is bracketed by the legal bonds, finance, and commitments. Things that not a utterance of "seek your own happiness" can blanket over. In the pursuit for happiness, please take a look around. Would it bring the adversity to the others?
The following months were devastating. Death threats, suicidal thoughts, tears, anguish... They roamed the two-storey apartment unit. The house never looked so melancholy before. An incident nearly left the house charred if I had not stopped a impulsion to set a fire in the nick of time. The lighter was already lit. I can never dismiss the vivid scene of throwing away the oil-soaked clothes. I was near tears. Holding the hand with the fire, I exhorted, "why burn them? We can just throw them away!!"
Another night, I was at Gan's house overnight. The next day was a test. A call came at 3am. Fire threat, again. This time, my nerves seemed to have accustomed the shock. I pretended a worried, almost sobbing tone to calm him down. I did not want to go home after the test next morning. I did not wish to see fire engines and people crowding around my block, staring black smoke emitting the window at eighth floor. I sat in school, troubled. Til evening then did I pick up the courage to go home. When I reached the estate, I was relieved to see people jogging at the park, and kids playing soccer at the void-deck.
For the subsequent months, the sound of opening of the windows from his room never failed to speed up my heartbeat. Pressure was piling up inside me. I once broke down during GP lesson, desk overturned, chair fell, door slammed. I let it all out, bursting out suppressed tears, in the gents. That should have left the class astounded. And that had left me utterly disgraced.
2 years later... Things have definitely settled down. The saga reminded me of the 911 incident. The building collapsed. It was a tough time for the soul and mind. It wasn't easy accepting the reality. The debris snowed the area, waiting to be cleared. He had a rough time picking up himself, rebuilding the confidence he once proudly upheld. Years past as heartstricken people who never will forgive and forget. For him, things could never be the same again.
For me, things had changed over the years. Our relationship evolved into a stage whereby we don't see each other often. Birthdays and other special occasions are not celebrated. I do wonder why my friends would want to celebrate family member's birthdays. Wouldn't they feel akward? Sometimes I considered this running away, but I seek warmth in friends and look for love elsewhere. I'm happy when I see my friends and their blissful family, however, not envy. I can't help but sometimes feel that spending time with family is taking away time from me to spend with my friends. I feel quite bastard. Even though conscience stricken, I rather stick to having fun outside home. Anyway, no one is home most of the time. I know dad returns home every night only to face the walls. I felt his loneliness. I still don't make time for him though. Why is this so?
Monday, September 06, 2004
Brian's Essay: The Room
The following is a story that spurs a lot of thoughts. It boils down to the deepest extremity of all that could bring about joy, despair, regret, guilt. However, I only extracted a part of the story. The ending involved God. With all due respect, it was taken out because I did not want the focus to be on Christianity. Read on...
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject as what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote."
It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.
Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. It makes such an impact that people want to share it.
"You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.
"I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay.
She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room... In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifelessroom with its small files was a crude catalogue system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me asI began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so in tense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have given", "Jokes I Have Laughed at."
Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents."
I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows Ihave watched, " I realizedthe files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill runthrough my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almostanimal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now.
I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file toits slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it... The title read, "People I Have Shared the GospelWith." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of fileshelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key...
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject as what Heaven was like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote."
It also was the last.
Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County.
Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, and his homework.
Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized that their son had described his view of heaven. It makes such an impact that people want to share it.
"You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said.
Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted. The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room.
"I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it," Mrs. Moore said of the essay.
She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him."
Brian's Essay: The Room... In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.
As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one.
And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was. This lifelessroom with its small files was a crude catalogue system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.
A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me asI began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so in tense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.
A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed."The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have given", "Jokes I Have Laughed at."
Some were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have Done in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents."
I never ceased to be surprised by the contents. Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived.
Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows Ihave watched, " I realizedthe files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly and yet after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.
When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill runthrough my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almostanimal rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards! No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now.
I had to empty it and burn the cards. But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it. Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file toits slot.
Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then I saw it... The title read, "People I Have Shared the GospelWith." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. The rows of fileshelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes.No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key...
I HATE stickers
My house is broken into again. No one was at home. Wonder how they broke into my home. These burglars are going to reap me of a basic lifestyle. TV, HI-FI, fridge, fans, vcd player, Hi-fi, sofa, tables, washing machine... Fortunalely they decided not to take my PS2 and my computer. Debts sux.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
HsiLgne: What a beautiful language
Jialong says:itz caLLed HsiLgne
Yongren has been added to the conversation.
CleMenT says: wat a wonderful language... pls repeat all to yongren`
Jialong says: woh era uoy?
Kase says:llew knaht uoy
Guowei says: esak gnipyt v wols
Guowei says:ysuol
Kase says:tsum kniht am....
Jialong says:hay roL
Jialong says:gnikuf drah
Guowei says:he nud esu ragluv al
Kase says:kniht tnemelc dna gnoy ner hctac ob llab
Yongren has left the conversation.
Yongren has been added to the conversation.
CleMenT says: wat a wonderful language... pls repeat all to yongren`
Jialong says: woh era uoy?
Kase says:llew knaht uoy
Guowei says: esak gnipyt v wols
Guowei says:ysuol
Kase says:tsum kniht am....
Jialong says:hay roL
Jialong says:gnikuf drah
Guowei says:he nud esu ragluv al
Kase says:kniht tnemelc dna gnoy ner hctac ob llab
Yongren has left the conversation.
Siberia Saga: Living Masked
Another night over in Siberia.. I have developed a really bad habit. Despite the mosquitoes terrorising the bunk in hordes, the bed hogged onto me so dearly that even the ringing alarm went as if it was part of the morning -- chirping birds, trembling ceiling fans, soothing rays of the early sun, and my bunkmate in front of the TV. Such a lovely scene, a wonderful start to a new day... BUT wait (my heart pounded).. I peeped at the time.. 07:35am.
I rushed into the working attire and stumbled to the corridor. Everyone was getting ready to warm up. I made it down to the starting point, looking cool, trying to look like I didn't just woke up. Eyes wide opened, the creases on my arm hidden behind my back, I approached the conducting officer, "so..... how's everything, encik?" We exchanged glances, all in a split second. As his eyebrows met, I figured that he exposed my "effort to make my hair wet and neat from the 'just wake up hairstyle' "
Came the supervising officer. His turn to question me, " you are the safety officer? How's everything? Where's the water point? Comms set up? Safety rover? Medic?" The overly feigned composure probably uncovered the inner turmoil of not knowing a single shit of what is happening. I poped a smoke grenade. (Psssst...) "The water point is on its way. The rover are ready, marshallers deployed, comms settled." (Smoke-screen formed) I then pointed out the running route to him, which subjected me to a even greater deal of unsucessful attempt to enwrap my uncertainty. (The smoke was blown away... Exposed!!) He then told me off on the importance of my role..blah blah.
I've got 2 safety rovers, but none was equipped with ice and water. Both drivers had not drove the route before. No comms set. One medic for two rovers. Marshallers not issued with flag and vest. Medical Officer not around. Water point not even set up when the run flagged off. This was all that I had. Screwed up.
I sent one rover to get the ice; replaced with mobile phone as comms sets and jumped into the rover, avoiding anyone that could have questioned me regarding the flaws in my safety plans. Though full of flaws, I can assure that there was no way my plan could have compromised safety. As expected, the 11km run ended smoothly. I felt I did a good job in making everything look neat when everything is in a mess.
What I am trying to portray here is the ability to remain composed in times of screw ups. In fact, the more I had wanted to deliver a certain state of mind to people, the more I would appear to them on the contrary. My collegues always comment that I looked stressed up, when I actually intended a thoughtful mind. I tend to have this habit to consider what kind of 'self' I need to present in a particular situation, especially in front of subordinates and boss. However, I concede the fact that this is as good as putting on a pretence, a mask. I often spend time searching for my own true self. Or do I call that soul-searching?
I can't seemed to be what I wanted to be. It is always after an incident that I reprimand myself, "I should have acted this or that way." Once, when my group of officers walked past the RP, he pointed at Jerry, scowling, "eh! You! Put on your head dress! And you better stop talking on the phone! Go out then talk!" Jerry put on the beret, but carried on with his conversation as we walked out, disgusted. On the way back, I kept scolding myself for not confronting him for his insubordination. I should have contained his arrogance.
I've seen a lot of my friends who had displayed composure and decisiveness, and I really admire them for that. Someday, I will master living un-masked.
I rushed into the working attire and stumbled to the corridor. Everyone was getting ready to warm up. I made it down to the starting point, looking cool, trying to look like I didn't just woke up. Eyes wide opened, the creases on my arm hidden behind my back, I approached the conducting officer, "so..... how's everything, encik?" We exchanged glances, all in a split second. As his eyebrows met, I figured that he exposed my "effort to make my hair wet and neat from the 'just wake up hairstyle' "
Came the supervising officer. His turn to question me, " you are the safety officer? How's everything? Where's the water point? Comms set up? Safety rover? Medic?" The overly feigned composure probably uncovered the inner turmoil of not knowing a single shit of what is happening. I poped a smoke grenade. (Psssst...) "The water point is on its way. The rover are ready, marshallers deployed, comms settled." (Smoke-screen formed) I then pointed out the running route to him, which subjected me to a even greater deal of unsucessful attempt to enwrap my uncertainty. (The smoke was blown away... Exposed!!) He then told me off on the importance of my role..blah blah.
I've got 2 safety rovers, but none was equipped with ice and water. Both drivers had not drove the route before. No comms set. One medic for two rovers. Marshallers not issued with flag and vest. Medical Officer not around. Water point not even set up when the run flagged off. This was all that I had. Screwed up.
I sent one rover to get the ice; replaced with mobile phone as comms sets and jumped into the rover, avoiding anyone that could have questioned me regarding the flaws in my safety plans. Though full of flaws, I can assure that there was no way my plan could have compromised safety. As expected, the 11km run ended smoothly. I felt I did a good job in making everything look neat when everything is in a mess.
What I am trying to portray here is the ability to remain composed in times of screw ups. In fact, the more I had wanted to deliver a certain state of mind to people, the more I would appear to them on the contrary. My collegues always comment that I looked stressed up, when I actually intended a thoughtful mind. I tend to have this habit to consider what kind of 'self' I need to present in a particular situation, especially in front of subordinates and boss. However, I concede the fact that this is as good as putting on a pretence, a mask. I often spend time searching for my own true self. Or do I call that soul-searching?
I can't seemed to be what I wanted to be. It is always after an incident that I reprimand myself, "I should have acted this or that way." Once, when my group of officers walked past the RP, he pointed at Jerry, scowling, "eh! You! Put on your head dress! And you better stop talking on the phone! Go out then talk!" Jerry put on the beret, but carried on with his conversation as we walked out, disgusted. On the way back, I kept scolding myself for not confronting him for his insubordination. I should have contained his arrogance.
I've seen a lot of my friends who had displayed composure and decisiveness, and I really admire them for that. Someday, I will master living un-masked.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Ambivalence in a labyrinth
20. One quater of life has passed, if not more. Looking back, I asked myself, how has the 20 years been? If a rating is to be given, it would be 6 out of 10. Happy moments seem more; however a single despondency surpassed a million happy moments. Regrets saturated these 20 years. I recently read this from a magazine, "I live my life without regrets. Once I decide to do something, I dun turn back and put in my best to do it." I say it's pure bullshit. For umpteen times, I had wished time could turn back, so I that could reverse the situation. Though living with regrets is inevitable, what matters is the path ahead. The dreams ahead.
Dreams. I have a plan, an attainable plan. But it takes time and commitment. I told alot of people about this. I've got 3 kinds of responses. Tom says,'Good luck, pal'; Dick says,'it's a not easy and you need money. You better start it small'; Harry says,'I'm interested. When you are working on it, count me in.' From where I am, it's hard to find and bash a way through. But eventually, I envisage myself overlooking an empire. A man of great eminence..
Many years back, a friend inspired me with his ambitions. His analogy: being ruthless is the way to the top. One has to step on someone else, as they pile up to make stairway for you. And that's how things work. I agreed with him that time. But soon I witness him putting his words into action, victimising me at the same time. Soon I derived my own analogy: Ruthless is the way. But kinship and friendship comes above all. What had happened to my home had made me a self protective person. I vowed to make the people who brought the damage pay back double. Even if it's politically correct for him to do so, I'll make sure I make him AND his whole fucking family suffer the same thing. I had only less than 1$ in a day for 3 meals. In school, I ordered plain rice with cucumbers at 30cents for meals. At home, instant mee made most dinner. It had made me a vengeful person. It made money the most important factor in life. BUT that was a few years back...
Earlier this year, I met this lady who changed my perceptions in life. Forgive and forget. I actually found it stupid to keep thinking of getting back at the bastards. Perhaps I had something else to think of and to keep me happy, that it overwhelmed the twirling vengence in the mind. She's one individual so strong-willed in realising her dreams it awed me. Though the time was a short 4 months, she changed my attitude.
I was a outright slacker, putting in minimum effort in whatever I don't have interest in. I learnt social responsibility from her. I began to put in effort into stuffs even when it is sucky. It's all attributes to the mission to achieving my dreams, my terok command of english and the intellect to general knowlegde need to improve. For the first time in 20 years, I finished reading my very first novel, all credited to her. Since then, everything I do seems to be for a reason. Maybe I had never felt this much for anyone before, the infatuation was strong. However, it had to end. And to my astonishment, it was a great relief, as if the thorny vines had disentangled itself off the heart.
Laze has brought me to where I am standing now. No specific path ahead in the labyrinth. Ambivalence, unsure where to take off. But still I smile confidently amidst the misty paths. Cuz I'm gonna make evey second in life a moment worth living.
Dreams. I have a plan, an attainable plan. But it takes time and commitment. I told alot of people about this. I've got 3 kinds of responses. Tom says,'Good luck, pal'; Dick says,'it's a not easy and you need money. You better start it small'; Harry says,'I'm interested. When you are working on it, count me in.' From where I am, it's hard to find and bash a way through. But eventually, I envisage myself overlooking an empire. A man of great eminence..
Many years back, a friend inspired me with his ambitions. His analogy: being ruthless is the way to the top. One has to step on someone else, as they pile up to make stairway for you. And that's how things work. I agreed with him that time. But soon I witness him putting his words into action, victimising me at the same time. Soon I derived my own analogy: Ruthless is the way. But kinship and friendship comes above all. What had happened to my home had made me a self protective person. I vowed to make the people who brought the damage pay back double. Even if it's politically correct for him to do so, I'll make sure I make him AND his whole fucking family suffer the same thing. I had only less than 1$ in a day for 3 meals. In school, I ordered plain rice with cucumbers at 30cents for meals. At home, instant mee made most dinner. It had made me a vengeful person. It made money the most important factor in life. BUT that was a few years back...
Earlier this year, I met this lady who changed my perceptions in life. Forgive and forget. I actually found it stupid to keep thinking of getting back at the bastards. Perhaps I had something else to think of and to keep me happy, that it overwhelmed the twirling vengence in the mind. She's one individual so strong-willed in realising her dreams it awed me. Though the time was a short 4 months, she changed my attitude.
I was a outright slacker, putting in minimum effort in whatever I don't have interest in. I learnt social responsibility from her. I began to put in effort into stuffs even when it is sucky. It's all attributes to the mission to achieving my dreams, my terok command of english and the intellect to general knowlegde need to improve. For the first time in 20 years, I finished reading my very first novel, all credited to her. Since then, everything I do seems to be for a reason. Maybe I had never felt this much for anyone before, the infatuation was strong. However, it had to end. And to my astonishment, it was a great relief, as if the thorny vines had disentangled itself off the heart.
Laze has brought me to where I am standing now. No specific path ahead in the labyrinth. Ambivalence, unsure where to take off. But still I smile confidently amidst the misty paths. Cuz I'm gonna make evey second in life a moment worth living.
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