High as Helium, Dead as Disco

as my term comes to an end,
its tapered into a season of reflection,
with each new experience considered as a learning point-
consequences no longer have bearing since i'm hardly here anymore.

nonetheless, these past few weeks have taught me so much.

for one,
the reality about power and responsibility and how freedom corrupts an individual.
at the start of this year i took in 9 individuals to train hoping that they would subsequently take over my department. it was meant to be an improvement to our work process.. but these past 3 weeks have rendered it a social experiment of sorts.

i've seen how taking them out from the platoons and letting them report to only me- essentially placing them in a station above and apart from their peers- has changed them in different ways.

some revere the newfound authority they wield and appreciate the privilege given them. others fall into the trap of no-accountability, discovering new ways to tease the system, pushing limits and boundaries.

power corrupts.

so i find myself in a position where i need to take painful steps to ensure this system works and institute enough checks and balances so that things will not fall apart when i am gone. the unfortunate truth and also inherent failure of this new team is that it requisites a person in my position to be the center and hold things together. I'll need to find someone who can fearlessly keep his peers, seniors and at times superiors in check.

Today i meted out the most painful punishment i have ever handed down in my tour as a commander. and to a person i like, no less. People behave in the strangest ways at times, doing things they know can potentially destroy them, but accepting the risk nonetheless for what? A meagre reward- some minor slacking off, hoping against hope not to get caught. Human nature will never cease to surprise you.

"The first problem of any kind of even limited success is the unshakable feeling that you're getting away with something and that any moment now they will discover you."
-Neil Gaimen

after taking over my current appointment 7 months ago,
there was always pressure to grow into my role given the limited experience i had,
the insufficient training, and the unrealistic expectations.

and then there were my predecessors who had done well and set the standard.
so i had to keep on my toes, trying my best not to screw up, not to cave in to
the pressure and stress of the job, the hostile and confrontational environment,
and to keep the wheels turning.

and then as last year drew to an end, there were subtle changes.
as i grew more adept, some sort of recognition began.
small tributes that grew to small awards that grew to bigger awards
that result in the greatest forms of recognition any NSF can hope for.

one day, i was no longer trying to match a standard,
but setting one. i was no longer training to be someone,
but creating qualification packages and conducting trainings.

which brings me to the quote above...
it reflects my exact feelings everyday; that any moment it could all fall apart
that any moment my past mistakes (and there are many) will be exposed,
or i will slip up ( a hundred ways to fall)
every week there are still hundreds of decisions i make and each one holds the potential
to develop into an ugly and potentially explosive situation.

there are downsides to being on a pedestal.
hubris is the first of many dangers.

Last friday i went for my interview with 7 of the highest ranking people in my base.
each of them command hundreds of military personnel and are lords in their own right,
their reputations preceding them ... and some quite terrifying reputations indeed.
and so i was to sit in a chair alone to face these big 7, among them the Big Man himself,
King of the base, whom the many thousands of base personnel bow under.

There are 2 types of fearlessness.
and they both have to do with consequence.

The first.
he knows exactly what the repercussions of his action will be. but he decides that it does not matter. he imagines the worst scenario, the most nightmarish of possibilities...and then tells himself to expect it, accept it, even embrace it. thus prepared, there is nothing left to fear, nothing left to lose, and a man, he becomes fearless.

The second.
Blind foolishness of a barbarian, who does not think of consequences at all. or perhaps does not think per se. so focused on action and reaction and the superficial, seeing only what can be seen and ignorant of motives and manipulation, of hidden agendas and secret hearts, a man becomes fearless because he does not worry about what will or could result. in his naivety, he is fearless.

but really, the people whom we think are fearless, really aren't.
they are neither the first nor the second.

truth is, the people who do these brave things are terrified inside. what appears to us as courage are really scared people who act in fear ... but act nonetheless.
A fireman entering a burning building is not without fear, he merely fights for something more important than his fear.

so there it is, perhaps there are no fearless men in this world, merely men who fight for greater motivations than fear.

"i have visited the offices of four great American newspapers, the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times and the Wall Street Journal. In any one of the four, if you ventured out of their offices at night and strayed a few hundred yards off course, you would be putting your life in jeopardy. Yet, despite this, none of the editorial desks or writers would argue in favour of the reduction of the civil liberties of habitual criminals. Danger from habitual crime is considered an acceptable price to pay for no reduction in liberty. This is one social choice.

In Singapore, you can wander out at night in any direction from the Straits Times and not put your life in jeopardy. One reason for this is that habitual criminals and drug addicts are locked up, often for long spells, until they have clearly reformed. The interests of the majority in having safe city streets is put ahead of considerations of rigorous due process […] This is another kind of social choice.

Let me suggest that none is intrinsically superior. Let those who make the choice live with the consequences of their choice. Similarly, if this statement can be received without the usual Westerns sniggers, let me add that a city that bans the sale of chewing gum has as much a moral right to do so as a city that effectively allows the sale of crack on its streets. Let us try to avoid the knee-jerk smug response that one choice is more moral than the other.
I do not want to belabour this point but it will be psychologically difficult for the West to accept the motion that alternative social and political choices can deserve equal respect.”

— Kishore Mahbubani

Friends Within the Darkness

I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife
inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as long
as possible—
not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:
trying to connect.
the old composers — Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and
they were dead.
finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take away my hours
break them
piss on them.
now I work for the editors the readers the
critics
but still hang around and drink with
Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the
Bee
some buddies
some men
sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone
are the dead
rattling the walls
that close us in.

By Charles Bukowski

---

shall no longer feel guilty for being anti-social

because i have recently discovered that i am after all, against all odds,

in fact, an introvert.

so i " find strength in solitude" and " am comfortable in crowds but will seek solitude to re-charge"

quite so.

explains why im not comfortable with more than 2 social gatherings in a week

and how all my life i've actively preferred meeting individuals rather than groups and rarely or never initiate group outings.

am most tempted to protest the lack of color in my life

but i have learnt the peril of careless wishing

and the treacherous cliffs they take you to

so i shall not think these thoughts

but sit content with shades of white

and black

these days actually

have been quite the respite from when we first begin

as they draw to an end

all i want is to retire quietly into the sunset

without fanfare and hopefully without drama

what a ride its been

this month:

the resurfacing of a familiar trap

which i have taken great care not to spring

last month:

i cannot for the life of me remember when

the light in your eyes went out.

After Love

There is no magic any more,
We meet as other people do,
You work no miracle for me
Nor I for you.

You were the wind and I the sea—
There is no splendor any more,
I have grown listless as the pool
Beside the shore.

But though the pool is safe from storm
And from the tide has found surcease,
It grows more bitter than the sea,
For all its peace.

By Sara Teasdale

What Lot’s Wife Would Have Said (If She Wasn’t A Pillar of Salt)

Do you remember when we met
in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless,
and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing
you, when we were young, and blushed with youth
like bruised fruit. Did we care then
what our neighbors did
in the dark?

When our first daughter was born
on the River Jordan, when our second
cracked her pink head from my body
like a promise, did we worry
what our friends might be
doing with their tongues?

What new crevices they found
to lick love into or strange flesh
to push pleasure from, when we
called them Sodomites then,
all we meant by it
was neighbor.

When the angels told us to run
from the city, I went with you,
but even the angels knew
that women always look back.
Let me describe for you, Lot,
what your city looked like burning
since you never turned around to see it.

Sulfur ran its sticky fingers over the skin
of our countrymen. It smelled like burning hair
and rancid eggs. I watched as our friends pulled
chunks of brimstone from their faces. Is any form
of loving this indecent?

Cover your eyes tight,
husband, until you see stars, convince
yourself you are looking at Heaven.

Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors
are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god.

I would say these things to you now, Lot,
but an ocean has dried itself on my tongue.
So instead I will stand here, while my body blows itself
grain by grain back over the Land of Canaan.
I will stand here
and I will watch you
run.

By Karen Finneyfrock

One Day

Love Song for the Newly Divorced

One day, you will awake from your covering
and that heart of yours will be totally mended,
and there will be no more burning within.
The owl, calling in the setting of the sun
and the deer path, all erased.
And there will be no more need for love
or lovers or fears of losing lovers
and there will be no more burning timbers
with which to light a new fire,
and there will be no more husbands or people
related to husbands, and there will be no more
tears or reason to shed your tears.
You will be as mended as the bridge
the working crew has just reopened.
The thick air will be vanquished with the tide
and the river that was corrupted by lies
will be cleansed and totally free.
And the rooster will call in the setting sun
and the sun will beckon homeward,
hiding behind your one tree that was not felled.

By Patricia Jabbeh Wesley

this whole swimming meet thing has a special experience

because of all the apprehension i had of it

and how it turned out to be such an enjoyable time

and so i find that these seemingly insurmountable odds and challenges

sometimes hide gems of experiences if only we dare.

really, just to dare.

secondly, people make or break experiences.

today, i also made a new friend. and some people you meet and forget immediately,

but others leave an impression. and we may never meet again, but those minutes of conversation are still memorable

there is something to be said for strangers who can speak with the honesty some long time friends can only hope for.

that is all.

a few mornings ago i woke up abruptly with a golden snapshot lingering in my head

it was a scene from when i was 8, a particular sunny day after our exams in school

and all the kids from my class went out into the quadrangle to play with bubbles and fly the styrofoam planes we bought for a dollar from our teacher

and what a lovely half an hour it was, 40 happy kids playing with simple toys on a sunny day when post-exams was the best time of your life.

couldn't figure out why this dream would pop back into my head 13 years later on a random morning for no apparent reason. but i suspect that all of us keep these specially innocent times hidden away somewhere deep, and once in awhile when we're least expecting, our minds conjure them up to remind us how it feels to be young and uninhibited and completely carefree.

perhaps most needed on tough days when life frustrates you and you wish growing up wasn't accompanied by painful lessons...

“So that's how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us--that's snatched right out of our hands--even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.”
― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart

one month since the christmas lights

and the year is heating up

with some interesting developments

8 months still seems an awful long time to go

and this is a job which hangs nightmares on strings ready to snap

at a moments notice and disastrous scenarios stand ready to unfold

at the drop of a hat

but the knowledge that it is so,

and that there is absolutely nothing more i can do to avert these situations

also brings a sense of peace because as i learnt over the past year,

what cannot be helped should not be fretted over.

take things as they come

if you can envision the worst case scenario and the most painful of circumstances,

then there is no longer the fear of the unknown and anything but that is a welcome bonus.

they say that if you want to go fast, go alone

but to go far, find a partner.

well this isn't a journey,

its a sprint

to the end of these long 8 months.

when i think about it,

these 1 year 10 months could be a whole lot smoother

and easier

but then i wouldnt remember much of it,

except that it was smooth...and easy.

but it being as challenging as it is,

and the pressure that i face;

i know that i won't forget these years,

and that they don't run in vain.

and as they say, these years go by with hardly any consequence on the rest of your life

and screw-ups are confined to the moment you commit them, and then no more.

No consequence save for..

the challenges that shape you,

the people who teach you people

the failures and hopelessness

the creative problem solving

with recognition comes expectation and the cycle is vicious and painful

i wonder if every year that goes by shapes who we are and if

one year we reach an end stage where we are finally who we will always be

and if this year is the year or the year our bodies stop growing

does our character solidify too

i wonder if in not keeping our traditions we inadvertently

gives bits of ourselves away and we are always something new

and finally when there is nothing new we are finally nothing

i wonder if a person can be so emotionally detached from his life

that it becomes a compilation of actions

and if life can be physical and just physical and would that still be living

i wonder if your body feels old because it really is and your mind

feels old because your body thinks it is and is it cause and effect

is it chicken and egg and if i keep telling myself i am getting younger instead

will i find myself a child again.

i wonder if this year has changed anyone's life forever,

if something i did made a difference, and if its possible to live a year of life

which has absolutely no impact on the rest of your life and could be edited out without consequence

i wonder if this year was such a year.

how do you measure character growth

is it disturbing if you feel a conscious change in your psyche and your rough edges file smooth

if you feel instead of being polished you are developing gritty sharp corners

if a veneer of mirrors passing for armor snake across your skin

every year is one step closer to who you're gonna be

i wonder if you ever walk the shadow paths

that take you up the silent hill

under an unsmiling moon

on a night you flee flying from

ghosts who take courage from the hearts of

young men on battlefields bleeding bravery

and brokenness too

i wonder if you wander among the gravestones

sidestepping the epitaphs of tragic dreamers

whose ghosts match you step for step

watching you with empty eyes that once held

visions

each gravestone is a memory

and each memory a ghost

each ghost is a vision

Us visions,

with our empty eyes and ethereal forms,

we watch silently,

as you make your way up the shadow paths.

i love this time of the year when the wind changes

and the smell of the air changes

and the gale blows cold.

i like that the shopping malls play jingles

and although i know its part of manipulating consumer psychology purchase behaviour,

it works.

its always about traditions.

"The flirt is a very French speciality. You like to seduce, even for nothing. It's a good experiment to realize you have power over someone. The French consider la séduction to be one of the arts of living." —Carine Roitfeld (French Vogue)

Love—why, I’ll tell you what love is: it’s you at seventy-five and her at seventy-one, each of you listening for the other’s step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime’s talk is over.

- Brian Moore, The Luck of Ginger Coffey

i confess that sometimes i find myself a little lost,

and in moments being thus misplaced,

am drawn into the doing of things which make me feel alive.

sometimes its simply being new, or doing things that are unusual and perplexing

out of character,

but on more dangerous days

i am wont to walk the thin lines of abominations,

crossing the thresholds of the acceptable,

dabbling in the devious.

clinging to the precipice of propriety

i breathe in the fumes of existence

and feel the hole filling, filling,

the gaps plugged.

but you know, as i do,

that the vacuum is never satisfied,

the black hole can never be filled,

never be made whole...

so it takes more each time,

the darkness that is drug

the innocence that feeds it,,,,,

it takes a little more each time.

once in awhile i dream of people i used to know.

randomly and totally uncalled for.

they just appear in my head while i sleep and usually i remember these dreams.

who i am i think, is largely harking back to who i've been.

Words are beautiful because poetry comes from the soul.

Pictures cheat because they come easy. The source of pictures are visual in nature,

and what is seen is rarely as important as what is felt.

Words come from the heart, a wellspring of memories which really means

that because they cannot be seen they can very well be conjured out of ...

really nothing at all.

I like fiction because fiction is an escape

and that is terribly empowering.

i once read that guys have shorter life expectancies than women because they keep everything inside- their emotions and distress buried beneath a strong front. and its like grenades exploding in a room... nothing much can been seen from the outside, but the foundations are shaken, the earth is loosened , and soon the cracks will appear....

i confess that it bothers me a little, because its so true that guys bottle too much up- its our pride that kills us.

and i keep imagining in my head some unseen tension that builds up in my body and will someday manifest in a magnificent heart attack and i will become a statistic of the "guys with short life expectancies".

also because i spent all of this morning getting screamed at.

cant be healthy.

so you see how i'm dancing through time

and the vapors are vipers and there really is no

escape from the form that rages to be free

which comes uneasily to me

that holds on to the handrails of the sands of a

depleted time.

and even if with subdued grace the former returns to form

the stitches remain undone, undone to the bone

a cut, a slash, a gash

a fallen comrade from a greater time

a missing song by missing singers

to placate the masses with

a cut, a slash, a gash

the bird is free today,

yesterday, 3 years hence.

it never returns.

A Caution to Poets

What poets feel, when they make,
A pleasure in creating,
The world, in its turn, will not take
Pleasure in contemplating.

—Matthew Arnold, from New Poems, 1867

In the darkest depths of the deathliest dark,

where fire and thunder torture the heart;

where life is pain and disaster reigns....

and the eternal night repeats again.

here where angels fear to tread

and dreamers stay awake

the blood of saints flow red;

the loftiest brow yet grows afraid

devoid of love and light

but reeking of regrets that

cut like knives and steal your

sense of right like

hooks that pull the hope from

unsuspecting fish.

this torrid tundra of tyranny

drives the wise men mad

evokes the most primal nightmares

of the children who knew no nightmares

bids surrender the knights of light

who take flight at the sight

of the dread foul beasts that patrol the lava streams

of lake lachrymose which flows between

mt despair and the forest of 10 000 tears(behind the path of scars)

and in this miasma of broken glass and shattered hearts,

songs are screams and some sing screams,

in this end of the world,

i keep my favourite memory of you.

sisterdiaries.tumblr.com

It Never Comes Again

THERE are gains for all our losses,
There are balms for all our pain,
But when youth, the dream, departs,
It takes something from our hearts,
And it never comes again.

We are stronger, and are better,
Under manhood’s sterner reign;
Still we feel that something sweet
Followed youth, with flying feet,
And will never come again.

Something beautiful is vanished,
And we sigh for it in vain;
We behold it everywhere,
On the earth, and in the air,
But it never comes again.

—Richard Henry Stoddard

on sat the family went to take a family portrait at a studio.

more than a year since jie graduated from uni and i from poly,

because we were waiting for dad to finish his masters this year.

wearing the graduation gown again, i couldn't help but marvel at how life has changed since we graduated-it seems life a lifetime ago- and yet it still feels like it isn't over.

only yesterday was the time of our lives, as dad never fails to remind me everytime we drive past tp. i don't think that growing up was ever quite so painful in our parents' day... but with our generation there is a heavy reluctance that pulls us back; the recognition that it doesn't get easier or better or happier with age.

Age propels us forward whether or not we like it; nostalgia is the cord that binds us to our yesteryears. And then there's a subtle fear that our best years are behind us.

so we take photographs.

its a nod to the transience of our lives, an acknowledgement of our ephemeral natures, and a grim attempt to grasp the sands of time, hold frozen the moments we don't want to lose.

at the end of the day the best of moments will still pass into silence, which is why the sincerity of photos are such a joy to behold. No matter how much has changed, they remind you of a perfect moment in time.

we all have unspoken fear of losing things forever, coupled with the fear of change.

I read that a person has 3 deaths.

The first is when your heart and brain stops. Your body ceases to function and all that is warm turns soon cold and hard. Then begins to melt away. Your physical existence ends, the space you occupy on earth fades.

The second is when your body is consigned to the ground, in a coffin, or an ash urn. Loved ones accept you gone, and similarly consign you to the corners of their hearts and minds set aside for the dearly departed.

The last death we did is when our names are spoken for the last time, somewhere in the future. Perhaps a casual mention, an absent-minded recollection, an anecdote, but sooner or later, the day will come when henceforth, your name will not be spoken again.

Then, the memory of your existence, in the minds of the living will be forever lost, and you will be truly dead.

macabre thoughts indeed, but as they say,

the heart always brings you back.

waiting to book back to camp in awhile, its been pretty much like this the past week- booking out for a few hours, then back in.

Learning to be unfazed interacting with big shots because rank is really nothing much to shout about. you tend to feel this way after prolonged exposure to undeserving rank holders.

but really, its all about finding your meaning, fitting in (or not), surviving.

i find it hard to fault some of my contemporaries for playing the game, and all the bootlicking and groveling that entails... its just their way of surviving after all... pusillanimous as it may be.

and i play in my own way.

i do my best (more or less), and so when complaint letters come (such as the one that appeared in CO's feedback box over the weekend), i am not unnerved... at the very least i stand ready to defend myself. the guilty sleep uneasy these nights.

and the majors and colonels gossip about each other and then put on their smiley faces and make their small talk; they don't notice the specs watching them from the background and yes, they demand respect still..

TALENT is universally recognized, but so is incompetence. woe then is our organization which on so many levels overlooks both of these.

just last week josh and i talked about how army kills many things in you.

optimism, reason, motivation, and perhaps hope too.

obviously it isn't like this throughout the system and i'm sure many of my friends out there are having the time of their lives (sarcasm unintended)... or at least find meaning in their work.

strictly speaking, someone has to do what i do and there isn't a good reason why it shouldn't be me...

but don't we always wish for something more?

september comes around; somewhere across the world a thousand heartbeats quicken as a familiar dread creeps up- this month of infamy, a decade ago, the spirit of america was crushed in a day. and now 10 years later, the grief has ebbed leaving a familiar throbbing when this time of the year arrives, and they remember their dearly departed.

these people, dreaming with broken hearts.

for our NE excursion 2 days ago, we visited 3 places, culminating in a visit to the Kranji war memorial.
Few people have ever been there, but its exactly my kind of place- the peace, the introspection, the intricately manicured lawns, perfectly lined gravestones marble white shining in the sun...

but most of all, the captured emotion that sings out to anyone who would stop to listen; the thousands of visitors past who come from afar, making their pilgrimage to visit their lost loves buried defending singapore.
I looked though the guest book and was moved by the messages left by visitors from australia and the uk, probably middle-aged now, come to visit the parents they last saw when they were kids, now buried in our soil.

which is why i say, the gravestones sing of forgotten people, people missing people intensely, of young ones come to remember, old ones come to find peace, comrades come to see their fallen, and then there's us,

from what i observed of my men i brought there- a generation of rather ungrateful brats,

shunning the sunshine; playing among the stones, truly truly, lost.

I was particularly jaded that afternoon; it had been a terribly frustrating day. But as i walked the lawn and read the inscriptions, a sort of awe came over me. This was a past era of heros and villains, a bygone time of bravery and selflessness, bloodshed fighting for ideals or survival, and the overwhelming tragedy is war. Men and women who died far from their homes with tears in theirs eyes, died defending what we have today, under a sun that did not shine for them.

and the honorable gurkhas, whose families will never see them here, died anonymous, died fiercely brave, now silent. And where is the glory in that?

one inscription read " .... forever loved and missed by a heartbroken mother"

i thought that was terribly depressing.

i particularly love the silence of it all because it holds so much meaning. Wars end, and the finality of it rests in silence of death. When all is said and done, the dust settles and the blood dries... the years will pass too quick and people will remember until they who remember are dead too but finally there will be a calming peace and life goes on as if brave blood was never spilt. I wish they could see what they fought to create.

kranji war memorial

but this entry is because as september pulls around, it reminds me that a year has gone by since i was in cambodia. this in itself would not mean much to anyone else but me. but because that one month left such an indelible imprint on my life, the fact that it has been so long but remains such a constant thread in my mind was somewhat surprising .

some of the kids visited singapore last week and had dinner at my place, and those few hours brought me back to a year ago. An ordinary year would not have meant that much, but a year in the army is far more than a year without. Hearing their updates, it seems like so much has changed in the past year.

Inevitably, this thread leads me to recall what i achieved there, how i viewed myself then, and how i view myself now. I say inevitable because when you meet someone you haven't seen in a long time, self-consciousness forces you to look at yourself through the eyes of the other party, and so you see how you have changed.

i'd be lying if i said that what i saw then didn't worry me slightly.

or a lot.

again, i would be lying if i said that it was 100% due to the influence of army on my life.

those 3 hours of dinner i spent watching myself, i saw the small almost imperceptible bits of my that i've cut away this past year, and the other coats that i've put on since then.

all isn't lost yet, because as much as seeing the cambo kids makes me reflect on my flaws today, they also remind me of a time when i was greater, and the strength i think i have to change. After all, a year ago, i flew there in a rather messy emotional state, and there through my interactions with them found a long lost light.

so, hope remains.

so as september pulls up, i think about heros and past personas, forgotten people and change, and hope.

its been a year

Chorus:
Bring me home tonight
can we leave for awhile
you said come here child

(Verse 1)

This morning i woke and i wrote please god grant me the serenity/
to know whats gotten into me/
for me to look to the sky whenever i need that help/
for me to look towards god before i look towards myself/
you pulled me out of hell and uplift/
that put me on my way, on my pursuit of happiness/
underneath this exterior dorments something demonic/
solitary confinement dormints something psychotic/
got my back against the wall, up against the bricks/
on the edge of the surface which is digging into my skin/
knowing that this aint for me, its for them/
their drowning hopefully that one day their able to swin/
what this song needed was a voice which i gave/
like a rock struck by tidal waves/
how much more can i take of this before i break/
will this overcast fade or be the last i see the sun today.

(Verse 2)
Fixated on becoming this prodigy/
blinded not by the sun but blinded by this oddessy/
cause what i got to be is prophecy redirect my approach/
and to make sure in this game i go harder than most/
once the beast is provoked and with all that i am/
simply articulate, a prison of passion/
just a artist, a slave to the pen/
it only takes the slightest spark for the artist to be awaken/
when i’m awake i’m thinkin wield words from the cranium/
When i’ve got god impacts become spontaneous/
never asked for this, god must have something instore/
strike the lighter let my fire rekindle/
songs in my head waiting to form stanzas/
this may be the death of me but i’ll take my chances/
as the novice advices, lyrically inhances/
plunge this battlefield with spears, swords, and lances.

i like birthdays

designed for fuzzy warm feelings ... or wistful resignation, depending on which end of the age spectrum you arrive at.

thankfully, im still in the first quadrant, enjoyable at least for now.

i've come to believe that the two best époques are childhood and old-age (if you're healthy) .

being a kid is joyful innocence, and learning about life and love and not quite seeing things as they are, just rose-tinted glasses and rainbows, holidays, crayons.

and most of that is lost quite soon as youth rides by in a cloud of cigarette smoke on a Honda bike. lost in first-loves and first heart breaks, failures and distance and expectations and betrayal and pride.

so learn your lessons early,

or the next 30 years is a struggle to survive, and hit the terribly unrealistic goals you as a youth set for yourself- but lets face it- not every one of us will grow up to be rich and healthy and happily married.

some of us will get sick, divorced, killed in accidents, broke, jailed... and every other manner of calamity we shut our minds to now (other than insurance-related purposes)

and the education continues into adulthood- that no financial institution is infallible, nor any government, nor any other institution- those of marriage, family etc

and many will carry these burdens into the final leg of their lives, which is a tragedy.

their ghosts will stalk them into the sunset of their lives, bankrupting their hopes and taking their light until they are shells in perma catatonic states, wasting away in one of the many old-folk homes in singapore.

but if they be blest, then they will find a balance in their lives, and success, and start to leave the striving to a younger generation, releasing their yokes little by little,

and find their childhood again, returning to memorable paths once walked on tinier feet, lost loves and dreams unexplored. And discover new things, as only people who have nothing to lose can discover.most importantly, to make peace with the skeletons that remain, and the cobwebs of yesteryear that cast shadows on their twilight days......

here also some will scramble, upon realizing that time gathers momentum and their legs grow unsteady... and finding that their lies thus far have been empty pursuits and suits and chasing and striving... and completely meaningless. so comes charity and volunteering and milking the last drop of their energy to validate their lives, hoping that it meant something to someone..

until death comes, and their final victory is to lie still and silent, leaving behind legacies and stepping into the light knowing that

life was not in vain.

so i think childhood is the best- young or old.

and i like birthdays, because jaded as i may be,

they still remind me that i am blessed

beyond what i deserve, more than i can hope for

or dare to ask.

hfsn

2am on a 8hr midnight till dawn,
an enclosed room with nothing but machines for company and graveyard silence..
chilled by a cooling system designed with the machines in mind, so we dress for winter in here

at the risk of sounding jaded (which i'm frequently told i advertise), i would venture to state that the challenges i face here are unprecedented ... both in scope and scale.
and while the past 7 months have prepared me somewhat, life in an active (and frequently activated at that) unit is quite different.

the lack of reason, the stubborness, and even the well-intentioned but poorly-advised intiatives..
also the respect that superiors will demand but never earn, the hierarchy which really is a glorified food-chain, and how sometimes its better to be the bottom than to be sandwiched somewhere in the middle with a semblance of authority but with no room to execute it efficiently.

and then there is the satisfaction i secretly derived today after an incident which made me realize that regardless of how mild his personality, how kindly, how helpful, finally everyone really is selfish. and obviously this doesn't show easily for people who are generally nice...

but one thing about the army is that it provides ample stressors that quite effectively strip away false pretences and forces a person to show exactly what he is. like a 48hr standby shift.
and then even the nicest most accomodating chap is a war-machine, desperate to argue borrow beg steal kill to get out of it at the expense of anyone and usually,everyone.

and this is why they say that the army is where Holiness goes to die, and i can say it is sadly quite an accurate statement, although not a definitive one.

still, one grows and learns in such situations, and skills learnt here are as good as any other,
and small acts of heroism are sporadically apparent.

To Adriel :

Dear Ge,

Happy 21st Birthday! Congrats, you are now an adult and i pray that you will continue to mature physically, mentally, and spiritually as you embark on the journey of adulthood. Too bad that i'm younger and i can't tell you about your birth like you told me about mine. Even if i did, you probably wouldn't believe me haha. It was really saddening that u could not follow us to Australia. there was a sense of 'emptiness' among us as we toured around.

Wah how u type my letter so long sia idk what to say now...oh. Also stay close to God as when you are an adult you will have to make life-changing choices. Always make him part of your plans and never leave him ouy. Haha I know you know much more than me but i'm speaking for my innocence. ;) Thank you for occasionally bringing me out for movies, buying Daniel X: Watch The Skies by James Patterson for me, sharing your Garrett Popcorn with me. Thought i do not like to say thank you but deep down in my heart, i'm grateful.

Also, I am happy that you are making an effort to come to church even though you always sleep late on saturday nights. And don't always stay up late outside, I second the parent's thoughts and sometimes are conscious for your safety. Anyways, you know martial arts so you are probably quite well-versed when killing your enemies. Congrats for completing almost 1 year of army! Endurance, endurance! Every day spent in army gives you 1/99% of your future six packs. Stay close to Him because I believe we is shaping you and moulding you into the person he wants you to be.

I agree that Mom is indeed getting older, as she thinks her rheumatism is acting up. As their children, we must join hands and unite, only then we can overcome our obstacles and ensure the continuity of our kind. You are really really big now as compared to 21 years ago. Read you bible more, I always see it dusty and its like the same bible since 50 months ago under your stack of magazines! Haha. You look really cute when you march at your various POP's. Continue to always read the newspapers and books, setting a good example for me. I love your hair sometimes. I know army life is tough and i will be glad to support you in any way possible. Thank you for all the advice in the letter for my birthday. Hmm... in conclusion, always stay close to Him, all the best for the next many months in the army, God bless you and i pray that God will see you through your whole adulthood.

Time really flies and you are 21 already. I adore you for not making this a need for a big celebration, like Jie's HORT PARK (FLOWER ROOM SEED ROOM) HAHA. But most importantly, it is the heart feeling that you're 21 and earthly things do not matter. Okay, I know that my letter isn't that good cause i don't write to girls.(like you) :) Haha I also know my sentencing sucks, vocabulary etc sucks but its the though that counts!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND GOD BLESS AS YOU VENTURE INTO ADULT HOOD!

21 July 2011

7:16pm (sorry its rushed)

Thursday CRAP YOU'RE CALLING NOW BYE!

DANIEL EN

so instead of sleeping with one eye open and walking tightropes,

i'd much rather be reclining in a dim-lit room listening to classical music and tasting whiskey.

but then so do most people.

but i'm learning, and only in extreme situations do you learn new things about yourself.

like how i've learnt that i'm actually bad at concealing my feelings, contrary to what i've always believed.

twice in the past month i've been told by trainers that my expressions make it very clear what i think of them. so not as stoic as i thought then.

and these are precious lessons that teach me how to better live my life.

and in these times the world revolves around a few simple things, re-classified into simple missions and objectives that must be attained. leave emotion out of the equation, and then really, its all about mental endurance.

also, i've been contemplating my relationships with people, and the dysfunction which has set in by no conscious choice of mine, a shadow that extended from ghosts of years long past.

and i wonder where they are now, and if life is everything they wanted it to be, since the last time we looked eye to eye.

the thing about being a solider- as least one in combat- is that it pushes you to explore limits of yourself that you never knew existed.

and only after you have crossed the peak and look back across the plains you have traversed, that you think yo yourself "wow, that was a dark place i was in"

you can't quite remember what got you through, or wherefrom the strength you drew, but that you are here today where you are is a testament to your ability to survive.

and that is always worth celebrating.

Steel Wall last week was an unprecedented challenge, because i did not expect that we'd be put under such strain because of the nature of our vocation.

One thing i've recognized these past 7 months as a soldier is that under intense duress, the voice that screams impossibility and surrender is a powerful force. And every cog in your brain turns to rationalize giving up and giving in, until hanging on or moving forward seems almost foolish.

As fatigue and lack of sleep overwhelm, these mental and emotional struggles grow more frequent and the arguments harder to win. I was like that last week, after sleeping 4/65 hrs,

and my argument was that the commanders were unreasonable to expect so much, they did not understand our physical limits, their planning was flawed etc

But then the other thing i've learnt is that with every decision you make to press on, you build mental strength, and the longer you hold on, the sillier it becomes to give up before the race is won.

and again, in the darkest moment, still there remain small pockets of peace to find.

i have lain exhausted on the grass after striking down and rebuilding a 400sandbag weapons emplacement at 2am, and then looked into a star-filled sky and for a moment forgotten my fatigue and enjoyed a moment of serenity.

on sat night i heard a tragic love story, which isn't as uncommon as it should be nowadays.

thing is, we cannot choose who we love, or vice versa, but our actions are always conscious choices.

and i think love- even true love- cannot be blamed for the foolishness we perpetuate, or the people we hurt in the name of it.

and because of this, hate springs from love and from deep love spawns rancorous hate.

a few days ago i had a weirdass dream.

i like the feeling of dreams ending.

i rarely wake with a start; its usually the sensation of tug-of-war between reality and dreams..

it feels a little like inception.

my dream is a perfect world albeit one without rules and reason, an upside down world without gravity or consequence. but we never realize the impossobility of our dreams until we see them in retrospect.

and then as your mind slowly awakens, you begin to process things with a rational mind; paint peels, cracks appear in the walls, a black hole begins to swallow and suck and with piercing revelation you suddenly see that this cannot be, and it is not your world; this is a dream ergo you must be asleep.

the sensation is akin to that of surfacing in a pool, rushing upwards toward a light, leaving a swirling whirlpool of grey mess behind, breaking the surface,

and then i open my eyes and i am in my bed and it is saturday morning.

I was thinking about Mr Chiam and how he must have felt that night.

I always feel more for the lesser characters, those whose grief are not trumpeted to the world.

I wonder how he would have felt, his failed gamble, and perhaps more at the loss of his party in his longtime fortress.

did he feel betrayed, at the 50% that jumped ship, did he regret venturing out, did he feel like this was an unfitting end?

what annoys me is that at the end of the day, people are just unable to recognise how blessed they are to have what they have. and they fail to recgognise that there will always be trade-offs no matter what government you have. but the nature of humans is such- to ever search for a nom-existent perfect, wallow in perpetual discontent, and whine whine whine.

its the shallow idealistic who think themselves well-read - they've heard the whispers of criticism from the west about freedom of press and speech, and fancy themselves freedom fighters for a glamorous cause.

if they were truly informed, they would see the miracle that is our govt, and how rare it is to find. virtually scandal-free, incorruptible, and intelligent above all.

i support the policy of fielding only the best and most intelligent. its the igonorant who believe that a government can be made up of people running on passion. fact is, it takes careful study and in-depth knowledge to craft policies, an intricate understanding of economics and cost-benefit analyses. so far, the opposition talks and talks but fails to give plausible alternatives. everyone of the manifestos are riddled with feel-good alternatives that would appeal on a superficial level, but it doesnt take much analysis to realize the deeply flawed "solutions".

not to mention the reputation of our country to the international community. doesnt bode well for our generation if we comprise an electorate that votes the unqualified and unthinking into power.

i like a comment i read by someone who attended a rally and observed that the crowds cheered wildly everytime the opposition speakers derided the pap, but soon fell silent when the speaker started proposing alternatives. they fight by appealing to emotions and play on people's dissatisfaction, without proposing anything worthy in exchange.

it's easy to criticize from the comfort of your armchair, in the house you own, on internet infrastructure not found in many countries, on phones, laptops, and other forms of technology that put you in the top 10 percen of the world's rich.

it's easy to criticize the architects of our systems, easy to fault them for the tough decisions they've made, the people they've hurt, wrongly or rightly.

it's easy to forget how rare good leaders are, easy to be greedy for cheap ideals, greedy for what the western press pressures us to think we need, greedy for the promises offered by a few newcomers.

what is not as easy is giving credit where credit is due, recognizing quality, taking pride in their achievements, and giving your support as an encouragement to do better. it's not as easy.

their flaws abound, arrogance and monetary blackmail and bribery or sorts too. they don't often listen , if at all, and can be merciless in incapacitating dissenters.

but i think it takes one with foresight to realize the wisdom of their approaches to many issues past, and their (our) results speak the volumes that the naysayers don't. look past flaws to see the potential for growth, pay no heed to the whining and tired rhetoric of an opposition that stumbles over itself and provides alternatives that cannot be reasonably supported by actions- untried and idealistic, pandering to the emotions of citizens who cannot tell the feasible and untenable apart.

i do not support the government becase it gave me $600, i support them because their stewardship of my country puts it in the enviable position of being able to expand billions in payouts to its citizens. that speaks more to me than silly suggestions to close the casinos and shorten ns, cut the infantry, let go of manufacturing.

i have an agnes b bracelet that has the label 'think' .

i got it because the theme resonated with me- too many people go through life not contemplating their actions and decisions, and one of my pet peeves are people who have low situational and self-awareness.

but recently i've begun to think that there really isnt that much value in the consideration we give things after all. questions beget questions, and answers are rarely final. some of the most enlightened people i know choose to breeze through life whistling 'carpe diem' , ignorant of the world around them. there is value in that too, and perhaps all this thinking about thinking is merely overthinking.

Tous les méchants sont buveurs d'eau;

C'est bien prouve par le déluge

[The wicked are great drinkers or water,

as the flood proved once and for all]

high-handed and arrogant was never really an issue with me,

because it was done on a scaffold of superior intellect and experience.

A proven track record and august credentials lend authority to the tone by which the incumbent chastised the hopeful.

but this time round they seem to have fallen to cheap tactics of mudslinging and name-smearing, nitpicking and personal attacks.

perhaps the prospect of real challenge and loss this time pushes them to desperate measures, and their near panic and insecurity shines through amidst the aspersions they cast across the river.

but that's politics for you, more often than not a race to uncover dirt and scandal, and less often a contest of superior decision making and policy crafting. i had hoped we would be different, but recent events prove disappointing, even the most austere of personalities fail to maintain the dignity of political jousting.

and... why do our politicians speak so poorly?

also,

i'm and increasing less social, the past few book outs have been spent at home,

reading in a silence or to 92.4.

a growing partiality to classical music, i think i am falling old.

when the modern guy lacks i think, are the olde worlde attributes that used to define manliness.

Hardly any guy i know, myself included, still posses that kind of charm and chivalry that used to be so prized a trait in men.

gentlemanliness, i think is the single most lacking trait in men, especially asian men. we just don't have it in our culture.

more than opening doors and pulling out chairs, its a respect for others, old and young, both male and female, and includes an element of selflessness too.

And really, thats the hardest part.

Perhaps we are no longer knights because ladies are hardly distressed damsels anymore, , or perhaps chivalry died somewhere in between feminism and modernization ....

but it would still be charming if men still behaved the way they used to back in the day.

and also it would be nice to wear hats and tip them at passing ladies.

earlier today dad was commenting about how sad it was

that children no longer play in the sun.

he was referring to one of those olden-style funfairs that had been set up outside century square.

he mentioned how when he was a kid , children went crazy over those rides and begged their parents to take them.

but little kids these days tote ipads and iphones and shrink away from sun and sweat, not to say old rickety rides that can hardlly rival the glory of the universal studios, roller coasters.

but i think even in the young people today, there is a yearning for things of the past, a curiosity about the days of old, the sunshine days of our parents' bygone era. i always feel a little sad for the operators of those old funfairs, because they fight a losing battle, against the giants of technology and novelty and a ever changing definition of fun.

who would have known that someday , children would no longer love the sun?

so what happened was that on friday an hour before book out,

it suddenly struck me that i wasn't nearly as excited/pleased about it as i used to be

about my station now-

a strange experience, a mix of motivation and demotivation,

constantly torn between extreme action and simultaneous malaise,

languid body and inert mind.

and an overwhelming and inescapable notion that all pleasure (if any) is ephemeral.

i cannot say i hate it,

nor can i say i live inspired.

but as in all things, i find that pondering these things is meaningless, to borrow from the ecclesiastical theme.

and perhaps there is no fault in merely existing, floating, spinning in and out of purpose and detachment. many things are made more bearable.

which of course has consequences.

but still.

truth.beauty.freedom.love.

also,

the frustrating lack of intelligence.

happy birthday cons,

some things will always keep changing,

other things once established never alter.

High as Helium, Dead as Disco
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
as my term comes to an end, its tapered into a season of reflection, with each new experience considered as a learning point- consequences no longer have bearing since i'm hardly here anymore. nonetheless, these past few weeks have taught me so much. for one, the reality about power and responsibility and how freedom corrupts an individual. at the start of this year i took in 9 individuals to train hoping that they would subsequently take over my department. it was meant to be an improvement to our work process.. but these past 3 weeks have rendered it a social experiment of sorts. i've seen how taking them out from the platoons and letting them report to only me- essentially placing them in a station above and apart from their peers- has changed them in different ways. some revere the newfound authority they wield and appreciate the privilege given them. others fall into the trap of no-accountability, discovering new ways to tease the system, pushing limits and boundaries. power corrupts. so i find myself in a position where i need to take painful steps to ensure this system works and institute enough checks and balances so that things will not fall apart when i am gone. the unfortunate truth and also inherent failure of this new team is that it requisites a person in my position to be the center and hold things together. I'll need to find someone who can fearlessly keep his peers, seniors and at times superiors in check. Today i meted out the most painful punishment i have ever handed down in my tour as a commander. and to a person i like, no less. People behave in the strangest ways at times, doing things they know can potentially destroy them, but accepting the risk nonetheless for what? A meagre reward- some minor slacking off, hoping against hope not to get caught. Human nature will never cease to surprise you. 11:09 PM
Sunday, May 20, 2012
"The first problem of any kind of even limited success is the unshakable feeling that you're getting away with something and that any moment now they will discover you." -Neil Gaimen after taking over my current appointment 7 months ago, there was always pressure to grow into my role given the limited experience i had, the insufficient training, and the unrealistic expectations. and then there were my predecessors who had done well and set the standard. so i had to keep on my toes, trying my best not to screw up, not to cave in to the pressure and stress of the job, the hostile and confrontational environment, and to keep the wheels turning. and then as last year drew to an end, there were subtle changes. as i grew more adept, some sort of recognition began. small tributes that grew to small awards that grew to bigger awards that result in the greatest forms of recognition any NSF can hope for. one day, i was no longer trying to match a standard, but setting one. i was no longer training to be someone, but creating qualification packages and conducting trainings. which brings me to the quote above... it reflects my exact feelings everyday; that any moment it could all fall apart that any moment my past mistakes (and there are many) will be exposed, or i will slip up ( a hundred ways to fall) every week there are still hundreds of decisions i make and each one holds the potential to develop into an ugly and potentially explosive situation. there are downsides to being on a pedestal. hubris is the first of many dangers. 2:28 AM
Monday, May 14, 2012
Brave new world Last friday i went for my interview with 7 of the highest ranking people in my base. each of them command hundreds of military personnel and are lords in their own right, their reputations preceding them ... and some quite terrifying reputations indeed. and so i was to sit in a chair alone to face these big 7, among them the Big Man himself, King of the base, whom the many thousands of base personnel bow under. There are 2 types of fearlessness. and they both have to do with consequence. The first. he knows exactly what the repercussions of his action will be. but he decides that it does not matter. he imagines the worst scenario, the most nightmarish of possibilities...and then tells himself to expect it, accept it, even embrace it. thus prepared, there is nothing left to fear, nothing left to lose, and a man, he becomes fearless. The second. Blind foolishness of a barbarian, who does not think of consequences at all. or perhaps does not think per se. so focused on action and reaction and the superficial, seeing only what can be seen and ignorant of motives and manipulation, of hidden agendas and secret hearts, a man becomes fearless because he does not worry about what will or could result. in his naivety, he is fearless. but really, the people whom we think are fearless, really aren't. they are neither the first nor the second. truth is, the people who do these brave things are terrified inside. what appears to us as courage are really scared people who act in fear ... but act nonetheless. A fireman entering a burning building is not without fear, he merely fights for something more important than his fear. so there it is, perhaps there are no fearless men in this world, merely men who fight for greater motivations than fear. 12:25 AM
Friday, May 04, 2012
judgmental glances "i have visited the offices of four great American newspapers, the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times and the Wall Street Journal. In any one of the four, if you ventured out of their offices at night and strayed a few hundred yards off course, you would be putting your life in jeopardy. Yet, despite this, none of the editorial desks or writers would argue in favour of the reduction of the civil liberties of habitual criminals. Danger from habitual crime is considered an acceptable price to pay for no reduction in liberty. This is one social choice. In Singapore, you can wander out at night in any direction from the Straits Times and not put your life in jeopardy. One reason for this is that habitual criminals and drug addicts are locked up, often for long spells, until they have clearly reformed. The interests of the majority in having safe city streets is put ahead of considerations of rigorous due process […] This is another kind of social choice. Let me suggest that none is intrinsically superior. Let those who make the choice live with the consequences of their choice. Similarly, if this statement can be received without the usual Westerns sniggers, let me add that a city that bans the sale of chewing gum has as much a moral right to do so as a city that effectively allows the sale of crack on its streets. Let us try to avoid the knee-jerk smug response that one choice is more moral than the other. I do not want to belabour this point but it will be psychologically difficult for the West to accept the motion that alternative social and political choices can deserve equal respect.” — Kishore Mahbubani 11:17 PM
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Friends Within the Darkness I can remember starving in a small room in a strange city shades pulled down, listening to classical music I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife inside because there was no alternative except to hide as long as possible— not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance: trying to connect. the old composers — Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and they were dead. finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and monotonous jobs by strange men behind desks men without eyes men without faces who would take away my hours break them piss on them. now I work for the editors the readers the critics but still hang around and drink with Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the Bee some buddies some men sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone are the dead rattling the walls that close us in. By Charles Bukowski --- shall no longer feel guilty for being anti-social because i have recently discovered that i am after all, against all odds, in fact, an introvert. so i " find strength in solitude" and " am comfortable in crowds but will seek solitude to re-charge" quite so. explains why im not comfortable with more than 2 social gatherings in a week and how all my life i've actively preferred meeting individuals rather than groups and rarely or never initiate group outings. 1:11 AM
Friday, April 20, 2012
in the arms of an ocean am most tempted to protest the lack of color in my life but i have learnt the peril of careless wishing and the treacherous cliffs they take you to so i shall not think these thoughts but sit content with shades of white and black these days actually have been quite the respite from when we first begin as they draw to an end all i want is to retire quietly into the sunset without fanfare and hopefully without drama what a ride its been this month: the resurfacing of a familiar trap which i have taken great care not to spring last month: i cannot for the life of me remember when the light in your eyes went out. 12:43 AM

After Love There is no magic any more, We meet as other people do, You work no miracle for me Nor I for you. You were the wind and I the sea— There is no splendor any more, I have grown listless as the pool Beside the shore. But though the pool is safe from storm And from the tide has found surcease, It grows more bitter than the sea, For all its peace. By Sara Teasdale 12:38 AM
Thursday, April 05, 2012
What Lot’s Wife Would Have Said (If She Wasn’t A Pillar of Salt) Do you remember when we met in Gomorrah? When you were still beardless, and I would oil my hair in the lamp light before seeing you, when we were young, and blushed with youth like bruised fruit. Did we care then what our neighbors did in the dark? When our first daughter was born on the River Jordan, when our second cracked her pink head from my body like a promise, did we worry what our friends might be doing with their tongues? What new crevices they found to lick love into or strange flesh to push pleasure from, when we called them Sodomites then, all we meant by it was neighbor. When the angels told us to run from the city, I went with you, but even the angels knew that women always look back. Let me describe for you, Lot, what your city looked like burning since you never turned around to see it. Sulfur ran its sticky fingers over the skin of our countrymen. It smelled like burning hair and rancid eggs. I watched as our friends pulled chunks of brimstone from their faces. Is any form of loving this indecent? Cover your eyes tight, husband, until you see stars, convince yourself you are looking at Heaven. Because any man weak enough to hide his eyes while his neighbors are punished for the way they love deserves a vengeful god. I would say these things to you now, Lot, but an ocean has dried itself on my tongue. So instead I will stand here, while my body blows itself grain by grain back over the Land of Canaan. I will stand here and I will watch you run. By Karen Finneyfrock 1:15 PM
Saturday, March 31, 2012
One Day Love Song for the Newly Divorced One day, you will awake from your covering and that heart of yours will be totally mended, and there will be no more burning within. The owl, calling in the setting of the sun and the deer path, all erased. And there will be no more need for love or lovers or fears of losing lovers and there will be no more burning timbers with which to light a new fire, and there will be no more husbands or people related to husbands, and there will be no more tears or reason to shed your tears. You will be as mended as the bridge the working crew has just reopened. The thick air will be vanquished with the tide and the river that was corrupted by lies will be cleansed and totally free. And the rooster will call in the setting sun and the sun will beckon homeward, hiding behind your one tree that was not felled. By Patricia Jabbeh Wesley 4:53 PM
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
fish am i this whole swimming meet thing has a special experience because of all the apprehension i had of it and how it turned out to be such an enjoyable time and so i find that these seemingly insurmountable odds and challenges sometimes hide gems of experiences if only we dare. really, just to dare. secondly, people make or break experiences. today, i also made a new friend. and some people you meet and forget immediately, but others leave an impression. and we may never meet again, but those minutes of conversation are still memorable there is something to be said for strangers who can speak with the honesty some long time friends can only hope for. that is all. 11:19 PM
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
a few mornings ago i woke up abruptly with a golden snapshot lingering in my head it was a scene from when i was 8, a particular sunny day after our exams in school and all the kids from my class went out into the quadrangle to play with bubbles and fly the styrofoam planes we bought for a dollar from our teacher and what a lovely half an hour it was, 40 happy kids playing with simple toys on a sunny day when post-exams was the best time of your life. couldn't figure out why this dream would pop back into my head 13 years later on a random morning for no apparent reason. but i suspect that all of us keep these specially innocent times hidden away somewhere deep, and once in awhile when we're least expecting, our minds conjure them up to remind us how it feels to be young and uninhibited and completely carefree. perhaps most needed on tough days when life frustrates you and you wish growing up wasn't accompanied by painful lessons... 9:20 PM
Sunday, February 19, 2012
“So that's how we live our lives. No matter how deep and fatal the loss, no matter how important the thing that's stolen from us--that's snatched right out of our hands--even if we are left completely changed, with only the outer layer of skin from before, we continue to play out our lives this way, in silence. We draw ever nearer to the end of our allotted span of time, bidding it farewell as it trails off behind. Repeating, often adroitly, the endless deeds of the everyday. Leaving behind a feeling of immeasurable emptiness.” ― Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart 11:33 PM
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
one month since the christmas lights and the year is heating up with some interesting developments 8 months still seems an awful long time to go and this is a job which hangs nightmares on strings ready to snap at a moments notice and disastrous scenarios stand ready to unfold at the drop of a hat but the knowledge that it is so, and that there is absolutely nothing more i can do to avert these situations also brings a sense of peace because as i learnt over the past year, what cannot be helped should not be fretted over. take things as they come if you can envision the worst case scenario and the most painful of circumstances, then there is no longer the fear of the unknown and anything but that is a welcome bonus. they say that if you want to go fast, go alone but to go far, find a partner. well this isn't a journey, its a sprint to the end of these long 8 months. 11:57 PM
Thursday, January 19, 2012
when i think about it, these 1 year 10 months could be a whole lot smoother and easier but then i wouldnt remember much of it, except that it was smooth...and easy. but it being as challenging as it is, and the pressure that i face; i know that i won't forget these years, and that they don't run in vain. and as they say, these years go by with hardly any consequence on the rest of your life and screw-ups are confined to the moment you commit them, and then no more. No consequence save for.. the challenges that shape you, the people who teach you people the failures and hopelessness the creative problem solving with recognition comes expectation and the cycle is vicious and painful 10:58 PM
Saturday, January 07, 2012
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Monday, January 02, 2012
end year reflections i wonder if every year that goes by shapes who we are and if one year we reach an end stage where we are finally who we will always be and if this year is the year or the year our bodies stop growing does our character solidify too i wonder if in not keeping our traditions we inadvertently gives bits of ourselves away and we are always something new and finally when there is nothing new we are finally nothing i wonder if a person can be so emotionally detached from his life that it becomes a compilation of actions and if life can be physical and just physical and would that still be living i wonder if your body feels old because it really is and your mind feels old because your body thinks it is and is it cause and effect is it chicken and egg and if i keep telling myself i am getting younger instead will i find myself a child again. i wonder if this year has changed anyone's life forever, if something i did made a difference, and if its possible to live a year of life which has absolutely no impact on the rest of your life and could be edited out without consequence i wonder if this year was such a year. how do you measure character growth is it disturbing if you feel a conscious change in your psyche and your rough edges file smooth if you feel instead of being polished you are developing gritty sharp corners if a veneer of mirrors passing for armor snake across your skin every year is one step closer to who you're gonna be 11:47 PM
Sunday, December 18, 2011
i wonder if you ever walk the shadow paths that take you up the silent hill under an unsmiling moon on a night you flee flying from ghosts who take courage from the hearts of young men on battlefields bleeding bravery and brokenness too i wonder if you wander among the gravestones sidestepping the epitaphs of tragic dreamers whose ghosts match you step for step watching you with empty eyes that once held visions each gravestone is a memory and each memory a ghost each ghost is a vision Us visions, with our empty eyes and ethereal forms, we watch silently, as you make your way up the shadow paths. 9:09 PM
Sunday, December 11, 2011
i love this time of the year when the wind changes and the smell of the air changes and the gale blows cold. i like that the shopping malls play jingles and although i know its part of manipulating consumer psychology purchase behaviour, it works. its always about traditions. 11:03 PM
Monday, November 07, 2011
"The flirt is a very French speciality. You like to seduce, even for nothing. It's a good experiment to realize you have power over someone. The French consider la séduction to be one of the arts of living." —Carine Roitfeld (French Vogue) Love—why, I’ll tell you what love is: it’s you at seventy-five and her at seventy-one, each of you listening for the other’s step in the next room, each afraid that a sudden silence, a sudden cry, could mean a lifetime’s talk is over. - Brian Moore, The Luck of Ginger Coffey 9:59 PM

i confess that sometimes i find myself a little lost, and in moments being thus misplaced, am drawn into the doing of things which make me feel alive. sometimes its simply being new, or doing things that are unusual and perplexing out of character, but on more dangerous days i am wont to walk the thin lines of abominations, crossing the thresholds of the acceptable, dabbling in the devious. clinging to the precipice of propriety i breathe in the fumes of existence and feel the hole filling, filling, the gaps plugged. but you know, as i do, that the vacuum is never satisfied, the black hole can never be filled, never be made whole... so it takes more each time, the darkness that is drug the innocence that feeds it,,,,, it takes a little more each time. once in awhile i dream of people i used to know. randomly and totally uncalled for. they just appear in my head while i sleep and usually i remember these dreams. who i am i think, is largely harking back to who i've been. 1:14 AM
Wednesday, November 02, 2011
Words are beautiful because poetry comes from the soul. Pictures cheat because they come easy. The source of pictures are visual in nature, and what is seen is rarely as important as what is felt. Words come from the heart, a wellspring of memories which really means that because they cannot be seen they can very well be conjured out of ... really nothing at all. I like fiction because fiction is an escape and that is terribly empowering. 11:21 PM
Monday, October 31, 2011
i once read that guys have shorter life expectancies than women because they keep everything inside- their emotions and distress buried beneath a strong front. and its like grenades exploding in a room... nothing much can been seen from the outside, but the foundations are shaken, the earth is loosened , and soon the cracks will appear.... i confess that it bothers me a little, because its so true that guys bottle too much up- its our pride that kills us. and i keep imagining in my head some unseen tension that builds up in my body and will someday manifest in a magnificent heart attack and i will become a statistic of the "guys with short life expectancies". also because i spent all of this morning getting screamed at. cant be healthy. 10:49 PM
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
so you see how i'm dancing through time and the vapors are vipers and there really is no escape from the form that rages to be free which comes uneasily to me that holds on to the handrails of the sands of a depleted time. and even if with subdued grace the former returns to form the stitches remain undone, undone to the bone a cut, a slash, a gash a fallen comrade from a greater time a missing song by missing singers to placate the masses with a cut, a slash, a gash the bird is free today, yesterday, 3 years hence. it never returns. 10:54 PM
Friday, October 21, 2011
A Caution to Poets What poets feel, when they make, A pleasure in creating, The world, in its turn, will not take Pleasure in contemplating. —Matthew Arnold, from New Poems, 1867 10:38 PM
Monday, October 17, 2011
In the darkest depths of the deathliest dark, where fire and thunder torture the heart; where life is pain and disaster reigns.... and the eternal night repeats again. here where angels fear to tread and dreamers stay awake the blood of saints flow red; the loftiest brow yet grows afraid devoid of love and light but reeking of regrets that cut like knives and steal your sense of right like hooks that pull the hope from unsuspecting fish. this torrid tundra of tyranny drives the wise men mad evokes the most primal nightmares of the children who knew no nightmares bids surrender the knights of light who take flight at the sight of the dread foul beasts that patrol the lava streams of lake lachrymose which flows between mt despair and the forest of 10 000 tears(behind the path of scars) and in this miasma of broken glass and shattered hearts, songs are screams and some sing screams, in this end of the world, i keep my favourite memory of you. 9:10 PM
Sunday, October 02, 2011
sisterdiaries.tumblr.com 9:56 PM
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
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Thursday, September 22, 2011
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Monday, September 19, 2011
It Never Comes Again THERE are gains for all our losses, There are balms for all our pain, But when youth, the dream, departs, It takes something from our hearts, And it never comes again. We are stronger, and are better, Under manhood’s sterner reign; Still we feel that something sweet Followed youth, with flying feet, And will never come again. Something beautiful is vanished, And we sigh for it in vain; We behold it everywhere, On the earth, and in the air, But it never comes again. —Richard Henry Stoddard 6:34 PM
Sunday, September 18, 2011
the heart always brings you back on sat the family went to take a family portrait at a studio. more than a year since jie graduated from uni and i from poly, because we were waiting for dad to finish his masters this year. wearing the graduation gown again, i couldn't help but marvel at how life has changed since we graduated-it seems life a lifetime ago- and yet it still feels like it isn't over. only yesterday was the time of our lives, as dad never fails to remind me everytime we drive past tp. i don't think that growing up was ever quite so painful in our parents' day... but with our generation there is a heavy reluctance that pulls us back; the recognition that it doesn't get easier or better or happier with age. Age propels us forward whether or not we like it; nostalgia is the cord that binds us to our yesteryears. And then there's a subtle fear that our best years are behind us. so we take photographs. its a nod to the transience of our lives, an acknowledgement of our ephemeral natures, and a grim attempt to grasp the sands of time, hold frozen the moments we don't want to lose. at the end of the day the best of moments will still pass into silence, which is why the sincerity of photos are such a joy to behold. No matter how much has changed, they remind you of a perfect moment in time. we all have unspoken fear of losing things forever, coupled with the fear of change. I read that a person has 3 deaths. The first is when your heart and brain stops. Your body ceases to function and all that is warm turns soon cold and hard. Then begins to melt away. Your physical existence ends, the space you occupy on earth fades. The second is when your body is consigned to the ground, in a coffin, or an ash urn. Loved ones accept you gone, and similarly consign you to the corners of their hearts and minds set aside for the dearly departed. The last death we did is when our names are spoken for the last time, somewhere in the future. Perhaps a casual mention, an absent-minded recollection, an anecdote, but sooner or later, the day will come when henceforth, your name will not be spoken again. Then, the memory of your existence, in the minds of the living will be forever lost, and you will be truly dead. macabre thoughts indeed, but as they say, the heart always brings you back. 9:37 PM
Saturday, September 17, 2011
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Wednesday, September 14, 2011
on the eve of a show, though we are acting all the time waiting to book back to camp in awhile, its been pretty much like this the past week- booking out for a few hours, then back in. Learning to be unfazed interacting with big shots because rank is really nothing much to shout about. you tend to feel this way after prolonged exposure to undeserving rank holders. but really, its all about finding your meaning, fitting in (or not), surviving. i find it hard to fault some of my contemporaries for playing the game, and all the bootlicking and groveling that entails... its just their way of surviving after all... pusillanimous as it may be. and i play in my own way. i do my best (more or less), and so when complaint letters come (such as the one that appeared in CO's feedback box over the weekend), i am not unnerved... at the very least i stand ready to defend myself. the guilty sleep uneasy these nights. and the majors and colonels gossip about each other and then put on their smiley faces and make their small talk; they don't notice the specs watching them from the background and yes, they demand respect still.. TALENT is universally recognized, but so is incompetence. woe then is our organization which on so many levels overlooks both of these. just last week josh and i talked about how army kills many things in you. optimism, reason, motivation, and perhaps hope too. obviously it isn't like this throughout the system and i'm sure many of my friends out there are having the time of their lives (sarcasm unintended)... or at least find meaning in their work. strictly speaking, someone has to do what i do and there isn't a good reason why it shouldn't be me... but don't we always wish for something more? 9:49 PM
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Last year's hopes are this years apologies september comes around; somewhere across the world a thousand heartbeats quicken as a familiar dread creeps up- this month of infamy, a decade ago, the spirit of america was crushed in a day. and now 10 years later, the grief has ebbed leaving a familiar throbbing when this time of the year arrives, and they remember their dearly departed. these people, dreaming with broken hearts. for our NE excursion 2 days ago, we visited 3 places, culminating in a visit to the Kranji war memorial. Few people have ever been there, but its exactly my kind of place- the peace, the introspection, the intricately manicured lawns, perfectly lined gravestones marble white shining in the sun... but most of all, the captured emotion that sings out to anyone who would stop to listen; the thousands of visitors past who come from afar, making their pilgrimage to visit their lost loves buried defending singapore. I looked though the guest book and was moved by the messages left by visitors from australia and the uk, probably middle-aged now, come to visit the parents they last saw when they were kids, now buried in our soil. which is why i say, the gravestones sing of forgotten people, people missing people intensely, of young ones come to remember, old ones come to find peace, comrades come to see their fallen, and then there's us, from what i observed of my men i brought there- a generation of rather ungrateful brats, shunning the sunshine; playing among the stones, truly truly, lost. I was particularly jaded that afternoon; it had been a terribly frustrating day. But as i walked the lawn and read the inscriptions, a sort of awe came over me. This was a past era of heros and villains, a bygone time of bravery and selflessness, bloodshed fighting for ideals or survival, and the overwhelming tragedy is war. Men and women who died far from their homes with tears in theirs eyes, died defending what we have today, under a sun that did not shine for them. and the honorable gurkhas, whose families will never see them here, died anonymous, died fiercely brave, now silent. And where is the glory in that? one inscription read *" .... forever loved and missed by a heartbroken mother"* i thought that was terribly depressing. i particularly love the silence of it all because it holds so much meaning. Wars end, and the finality of it rests in silence of death. When all is said and done, the dust settles and the blood dries... the years will pass too quick and people will remember until they who remember are dead too but finally there will be a calming peace and life goes on as if brave blood was never spilt. I wish they could see what they fought to create. kranji war memorial but this entry is because as september pulls around, it reminds me that a year has gone by since i was in cambodia. this in itself would not mean much to anyone else but me. but because that one month left such an indelible imprint on my life, the fact that it has been so long but remains such a constant thread in my mind was somewhat surprising . some of the kids visited singapore last week and had dinner at my place, and those few hours brought me back to a year ago. An ordinary year would not have meant that much, but a year in the army is far more than a year without. Hearing their updates, it seems like so much has changed in the past year. Inevitably, this thread leads me to recall what i achieved there, how i viewed myself then, and how i view myself now. I say inevitable because when you meet someone you haven't seen in a long time, self-consciousness forces you to look at yourself through the eyes of the other party, and so you see how you have changed. i'd be lying if i said that what i saw then didn't worry me slightly. or a lot. again, i would be lying if i said that it was 100% due to the influence of army on my life. those 3 hours of dinner i spent watching myself, i saw the small almost imperceptible bits of my that i've cut away this past year, and the other coats that i've put on since then. all isn't lost yet, because as much as seeing the cambo kids makes me reflect on my flaws today, they also remind me of a time when i was greater, and the strength i think i have to change. After all, a year ago, i flew there in a rather messy emotional state, and there through my interactions with them found a long lost light. so, hope remains. so as september pulls up, i think about heros and past personas, forgotten people and change, and hope. its been a year 12:27 AM
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Chorus: Bring me home tonight can we leave for awhile you said come here child (Verse 1) This morning i woke and i wrote please god grant me the serenity/ to know whats gotten into me/ for me to look to the sky whenever i need that help/ for me to look towards god before i look towards myself/ you pulled me out of hell and uplift/ that put me on my way, on my pursuit of happiness/ underneath this exterior dorments something demonic/ solitary confinement dormints something psychotic/ got my back against the wall, up against the bricks/ on the edge of the surface which is digging into my skin/ knowing that this aint for me, its for them/ their drowning hopefully that one day their able to swin/ what this song needed was a voice which i gave/ like a rock struck by tidal waves/ how much more can i take of this before i break/ will this overcast fade or be the last i see the sun today. (Verse 2) Fixated on becoming this prodigy/ blinded not by the sun but blinded by this oddessy/ cause what i got to be is prophecy redirect my approach/ and to make sure in this game i go harder than most/ once the beast is provoked and with all that i am/ simply articulate, a prison of passion/ just a artist, a slave to the pen/ it only takes the slightest spark for the artist to be awaken/ when i’m awake i’m thinkin wield words from the cranium/ When i’ve got god impacts become spontaneous/ never asked for this, god must have something instore/ strike the lighter let my fire rekindle/ songs in my head waiting to form stanzas/ this may be the death of me but i’ll take my chances/ as the novice advices, lyrically inhances/ plunge this battlefield with spears, swords, and lances. 4:19 AM
Thursday, July 28, 2011
if life meant more i like birthdays designed for fuzzy warm feelings ... or wistful resignation, depending on which end of the age spectrum you arrive at. thankfully, im still in the first quadrant, enjoyable at least for now. i've come to believe that the two best époques are childhood and old-age (if you're healthy) . being a kid is joyful innocence, and learning about life and love and not quite seeing things as they are, just rose-tinted glasses and rainbows, holidays, crayons. and most of that is lost quite soon as youth rides by in a cloud of cigarette smoke on a Honda bike. lost in first-loves and first heart breaks, failures and distance and expectations and betrayal and pride. so learn your lessons early, or the next 30 years is a struggle to survive, and hit the terribly unrealistic goals you as a youth set for yourself- but lets face it- not every one of us will grow up to be rich and healthy and happily married. some of us will get sick, divorced, killed in accidents, broke, jailed... and every other manner of calamity we shut our minds to now (other than insurance-related purposes) and the education continues into adulthood- that no financial institution is infallible, nor any government, nor any other institution- those of marriage, family etc and many will carry these burdens into the final leg of their lives, which is a tragedy. their ghosts will stalk them into the sunset of their lives, bankrupting their hopes and taking their light until they are shells in perma catatonic states, wasting away in one of the many old-folk homes in singapore. but if they be blest, then they will find a balance in their lives, and success, and start to leave the striving to a younger generation, releasing their yokes little by little, and find their childhood again, returning to memorable paths once walked on tinier feet, lost loves and dreams unexplored. And discover new things, as only people who have nothing to lose can discover.most importantly, to make peace with the skeletons that remain, and the cobwebs of yesteryear that cast shadows on their twilight days...... here also some will scramble, upon realizing that time gathers momentum and their legs grow unsteady... and finding that their lies thus far have been empty pursuits and suits and chasing and striving... and completely meaningless. so comes charity and volunteering and milking the last drop of their energy to validate their lives, hoping that it meant something to someone.. until death comes, and their final victory is to lie still and silent, leaving behind legacies and stepping into the light knowing that life was not in vain. so i think childhood is the best- young or old. and i like birthdays, because jaded as i may be, they still remind me that i am blessed beyond what i deserve, more than i can hope for or dare to ask. hfsn 1:21 AM
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
the broken clock is a comfort 2am on a 8hr midnight till dawn, an enclosed room with nothing but machines for company and graveyard silence.. chilled by a cooling system designed with the machines in mind, so we dress for winter in here at the risk of sounding jaded (which i'm frequently told i advertise), i would venture to state that the challenges i face here are unprecedented ... both in scope and scale. and while the past 7 months have prepared me somewhat, life in an active (and frequently activated at that) unit is quite different. the lack of reason, the stubborness, and even the well-intentioned but poorly-advised intiatives.. also the respect that superiors will demand but never earn, the hierarchy which really is a glorified food-chain, and how sometimes its better to be the bottom than to be sandwiched somewhere in the middle with a semblance of authority but with no room to execute it efficiently. and then there is the satisfaction i secretly derived today after an incident which made me realize that regardless of how mild his personality, how kindly, how helpful, finally everyone really is selfish. and obviously this doesn't show easily for people who are generally nice... but one thing about the army is that it provides ample stressors that quite effectively strip away false pretences and forces a person to show exactly what he is. like a 48hr standby shift. and then even the nicest most accomodating chap is a war-machine, desperate to argue borrow beg steal kill to get out of it at the expense of anyone and usually,everyone. and this is why they say that the army is where Holiness goes to die, and i can say it is sadly quite an accurate statement, although not a definitive one. still, one grows and learns in such situations, and skills learnt here are as good as any other, and small acts of heroism are sporadically apparent. 2:10 AM
Saturday, July 23, 2011
my birthday letter from En To Adriel : Dear Ge, Happy 21st Birthday! Congrats, you are now an adult and i pray that you will continue to mature physically, mentally, and spiritually as you embark on the journey of adulthood. Too bad that i'm younger and i can't tell you about your birth like you told me about mine. Even if i did, you probably wouldn't believe me haha. It was really saddening that u could not follow us to Australia. there was a sense of 'emptiness' among us as we toured around. Wah how u type my letter so long sia idk what to say now...oh. Also stay close to God as when you are an adult you will have to make life-changing choices. Always make him part of your plans and never leave him ouy. Haha I know you know much more than me but i'm speaking for my innocence. ;) Thank you for occasionally bringing me out for movies, buying Daniel X: Watch The Skies by James Patterson for me, sharing your Garrett Popcorn with me. Thought i do not like to say thank you but deep down in my heart, i'm grateful. Also, I am happy that you are making an effort to come to church even though you always sleep late on saturday nights. And don't always stay up late outside, I second the parent's thoughts and sometimes are conscious for your safety. Anyways, you know martial arts so you are probably quite well-versed when killing your enemies. Congrats for completing almost 1 year of army! Endurance, endurance! Every day spent in army gives you 1/99% of your future six packs. Stay close to Him because I believe we is shaping you and moulding you into the person he wants you to be. I agree that Mom is indeed getting older, as she thinks her rheumatism is acting up. As their children, we must join hands and unite, only then we can overcome our obstacles and ensure the continuity of our kind. You are really really big now as compared to 21 years ago. Read you bible more, I always see it dusty and its like the same bible since 50 months ago under your stack of magazines! Haha. You look really cute when you march at your various POP's. Continue to always read the newspapers and books, setting a good example for me. I love your hair sometimes. I know army life is tough and i will be glad to support you in any way possible. Thank you for all the advice in the letter for my birthday. Hmm... in conclusion, always stay close to Him, all the best for the next many months in the army, God bless you and i pray that God will see you through your whole adulthood. Time really flies and you are 21 already. I adore you for not making this a need for a big celebration, like Jie's HORT PARK (FLOWER ROOM SEED ROOM) HAHA. But most importantly, it is the heart feeling that you're 21 and earthly things do not matter. Okay, I know that my letter isn't that good cause i don't write to girls.(like you) :) Haha I also know my sentencing sucks, vocabulary etc sucks but its the though that counts! HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND GOD BLESS AS YOU VENTURE INTO ADULT HOOD! 21 July 2011 7:16pm (sorry its rushed) Thursday CRAP YOU'RE CALLING NOW BYE! DANIEL EN 2:02 AM
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
comfortable so instead of sleeping with one eye open and walking tightropes, i'd much rather be reclining in a dim-lit room listening to classical music and tasting whiskey. but then so do most people. but i'm learning, and only in extreme situations do you learn new things about yourself. like how i've learnt that i'm actually bad at concealing my feelings, contrary to what i've always believed. twice in the past month i've been told by trainers that my expressions make it very clear what i think of them. so not as stoic as i thought then. and these are precious lessons that teach me how to better live my life. and in these times the world revolves around a few simple things, re-classified into simple missions and objectives that must be attained. leave emotion out of the equation, and then really, its all about mental endurance. also, i've been contemplating my relationships with people, and the dysfunction which has set in by no conscious choice of mine, a shadow that extended from ghosts of years long past. and i wonder where they are now, and if life is everything they wanted it to be, since the last time we looked eye to eye. 10:27 PM
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
this castle is a fortress for your heart the thing about being a solider- as least one in combat- is that it pushes you to explore limits of yourself that you never knew existed. and only after you have crossed the peak and look back across the plains you have traversed, that you think yo yourself "wow, that was a dark place i was in" you can't quite remember what got you through, or wherefrom the strength you drew, but that you are here today where you are is a testament to your ability to survive. and that is always worth celebrating. Steel Wall last week was an unprecedented challenge, because i did not expect that we'd be put under such strain because of the nature of our vocation. One thing i've recognized these past 7 months as a soldier is that under intense duress, the voice that screams impossibility and surrender is a powerful force. And every cog in your brain turns to rationalize giving up and giving in, until hanging on or moving forward seems almost foolish. As fatigue and lack of sleep overwhelm, these mental and emotional struggles grow more frequent and the arguments harder to win. I was like that last week, after sleeping 4/65 hrs, and my argument was that the commanders were unreasonable to expect so much, they did not understand our physical limits, their planning was flawed etc But then the other thing i've learnt is that with every decision you make to press on, you build mental strength, and the longer you hold on, the sillier it becomes to give up before the race is won. and again, in the darkest moment, still there remain small pockets of peace to find. i have lain exhausted on the grass after striking down and rebuilding a 400sandbag weapons emplacement at 2am, and then looked into a star-filled sky and for a moment forgotten my fatigue and enjoyed a moment of serenity. on sat night i heard a tragic love story, which isn't as uncommon as it should be nowadays. thing is, we cannot choose who we love, or vice versa, but our actions are always conscious choices. and i think love- even true love- cannot be blamed for the foolishness we perpetuate, or the people we hurt in the name of it. and because of this, hate springs from love and from deep love spawns rancorous hate. 4:00 PM
Monday, May 23, 2011
between reality and a few days ago i had a weirdass dream. i like the feeling of dreams ending. i rarely wake with a start; its usually the sensation of tug-of-war between reality and dreams.. it feels a little like inception. my dream is a perfect world albeit one without rules and reason, an upside down world without gravity or consequence. but we never realize the impossobility of our dreams until we see them in retrospect. and then as your mind slowly awakens, you begin to process things with a rational mind; paint peels, cracks appear in the walls, a black hole begins to swallow and suck and with piercing revelation you suddenly see that this cannot be, and it is not your world; this is a dream ergo you must be asleep. the sensation is akin to that of surfacing in a pool, rushing upwards toward a light, leaving a swirling whirlpool of grey mess behind, breaking the surface, and then i open my eyes and i am in my bed and it is saturday morning. 9:35 PM
Monday, May 09, 2011
Second Place Victory I was thinking about Mr Chiam and how he must have felt that night. I always feel more for the lesser characters, those whose grief are not trumpeted to the world. I wonder how he would have felt, his failed gamble, and perhaps more at the loss of his party in his longtime fortress. did he feel betrayed, at the 50% that jumped ship, did he regret venturing out, did he feel like this was an unfitting end? 4:39 PM
Thursday, May 05, 2011
the trial of the ingrate what annoys me is that at the end of the day, people are just unable to recognise how blessed they are to have what they have. and they fail to recgognise that there will always be trade-offs no matter what government you have. but the nature of humans is such- to ever search for a nom-existent perfect, wallow in perpetual discontent, and whine whine whine. its the shallow idealistic who think themselves well-read - they've heard the whispers of criticism from the west about freedom of press and speech, and fancy themselves freedom fighters for a glamorous cause. if they were truly informed, they would see the miracle that is our govt, and how rare it is to find. virtually scandal-free, incorruptible, and intelligent above all. i support the policy of fielding only the best and most intelligent. its the igonorant who believe that a government can be made up of people running on passion. fact is, it takes careful study and in-depth knowledge to craft policies, an intricate understanding of economics and cost-benefit analyses. so far, the opposition talks and talks but fails to give plausible alternatives. everyone of the manifestos are riddled with feel-good alternatives that would appeal on a superficial level, but it doesnt take much analysis to realize the deeply flawed "solutions". not to mention the reputation of our country to the international community. doesnt bode well for our generation if we comprise an electorate that votes the unqualified and unthinking into power. i like a comment i read by someone who attended a rally and observed that the crowds cheered wildly everytime the opposition speakers derided the pap, but soon fell silent when the speaker started proposing alternatives. they fight by appealing to emotions and play on people's dissatisfaction, without proposing anything worthy in exchange. 11:12 AM
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
The Powers that Be it's easy to criticize from the comfort of your armchair, in the house you own, on internet infrastructure not found in many countries, on phones, laptops, and other forms of technology that put you in the top 10 percen of the world's rich. it's easy to criticize the architects of our systems, easy to fault them for the tough decisions they've made, the people they've hurt, wrongly or rightly. it's easy to forget how rare good leaders are, easy to be greedy for cheap ideals, greedy for what the western press pressures us to think we need, greedy for the promises offered by a few newcomers. what is not as easy is giving credit where credit is due, recognizing quality, taking pride in their achievements, and giving your support as an encouragement to do better. it's not as easy. their flaws abound, arrogance and monetary blackmail and bribery or sorts too. they don't often listen , if at all, and can be merciless in incapacitating dissenters. but i think it takes one with foresight to realize the wisdom of their approaches to many issues past, and their (our) results speak the volumes that the naysayers don't. look past flaws to see the potential for growth, pay no heed to the whining and tired rhetoric of an opposition that stumbles over itself and provides alternatives that cannot be reasonably supported by actions- untried and idealistic, pandering to the emotions of citizens who cannot tell the feasible and untenable apart. i do not support the government becase it gave me $600, i support them because their stewardship of my country puts it in the enviable position of being able to expand billions in payouts to its citizens. that speaks more to me than silly suggestions to close the casinos and shorten ns, cut the infantry, let go of manufacturing. 8:58 PM

cogito ergo sum i have an agnes b bracelet that has the label 'think' . i got it because the theme resonated with me- too many people go through life not contemplating their actions and decisions, and one of my pet peeves are people who have low situational and self-awareness. but recently i've begun to think that there really isnt that much value in the consideration we give things after all. questions beget questions, and answers are rarely final. some of the most enlightened people i know choose to breeze through life whistling 'carpe diem' , ignorant of the world around them. there is value in that too, and perhaps all this thinking about thinking is merely overthinking. 8:41 PM
Monday, May 02, 2011
le chevalier mal fet Tous les méchants sont buveurs d'eau; C'est bien prouve par le déluge [The wicked are great drinkers or water, as the flood proved once and for all] high-handed and arrogant was never really an issue with me, because it was done on a scaffold of superior intellect and experience. A proven track record and august credentials lend authority to the tone by which the incumbent chastised the hopeful. but this time round they seem to have fallen to cheap tactics of mudslinging and name-smearing, nitpicking and personal attacks. perhaps the prospect of real challenge and loss this time pushes them to desperate measures, and their near panic and insecurity shines through amidst the aspersions they cast across the river. but that's politics for you, more often than not a race to uncover dirt and scandal, and less often a contest of superior decision making and policy crafting. i had hoped we would be different, but recent events prove disappointing, even the most austere of personalities fail to maintain the dignity of political jousting. and... why do our politicians speak so poorly? also, i'm and increasing less social, the past few book outs have been spent at home, reading in a silence or to 92.4. a growing partiality to classical music, i think i am falling old. 4:31 PM

samurai when the modern guy lacks i think, are the olde worlde attributes that used to define manliness. Hardly any guy i know, myself included, still posses that kind of charm and chivalry that used to be so prized a trait in men. gentlemanliness, i think is the single most lacking trait in men, especially asian men. we just don't have it in our culture. more than opening doors and pulling out chairs, its a respect for others, old and young, both male and female, and includes an element of selflessness too. And really, thats the hardest part. Perhaps we are no longer knights because ladies are hardly distressed damsels anymore, , or perhaps chivalry died somewhere in between feminism and modernization .... but it would still be charming if men still behaved the way they used to back in the day. and also it would be nice to wear hats and tip them at passing ladies. 2:50 AM
Saturday, April 30, 2011
I was 19 then I was 20, but that too is ending earlier today dad was commenting about how sad it was that children no longer play in the sun. he was referring to one of those olden-style funfairs that had been set up outside century square. he mentioned how when he was a kid , children went crazy over those rides and begged their parents to take them. but little kids these days tote ipads and iphones and shrink away from sun and sweat, not to say old rickety rides that can hardlly rival the glory of the universal studios, roller coasters. but i think even in the young people today, there is a yearning for things of the past, a curiosity about the days of old, the sunshine days of our parents' bygone era. i always feel a little sad for the operators of those old funfairs, because they fight a losing battle, against the giants of technology and novelty and a ever changing definition of fun. who would have known that someday , children would no longer love the sun? 6:56 PM
Sunday, April 17, 2011
between the sand and an everlasting moonbeam so what happened was that on friday an hour before book out, it suddenly struck me that i wasn't nearly as excited/pleased about it as i used to be about my station now- a strange experience, a mix of motivation and demotivation, constantly torn between extreme action and simultaneous malaise, languid body and inert mind. and an overwhelming and inescapable notion that all pleasure (if any) is ephemeral. i cannot say i hate it, nor can i say i live inspired. but as in all things, i find that pondering these things is meaningless, to borrow from the ecclesiastical theme. and perhaps there is no fault in merely existing, floating, spinning in and out of purpose and detachment. many things are made more bearable. which of course has consequences. but still. truth.beauty.freedom.love. also, the frustrating lack of intelligence. 6:52 PM
Sunday, April 10, 2011
sunshine happy birthday cons, some things will always keep changing, other things once established never alter. 1:23 AM