Pythagoras
Pythagoras is one of the most interesting and puzzling men in history. Not only are the traditions concerning him an almost inextricable mixture of truth and falsehood, but even in their barest and least disputable form they present us with a very curious psychology. He may be described, briefly, as a combination of Einstein and Mrs Eddy. He founded a religion, of which the main tenets were the transmigration of souls and the sinfulness of eating beans. His religion was embodied in a religious order, which, her and there, acquired control of the State and established a rule of the saints. But the unregenerate hankered after beans, and sooner or later rebelled.
Some of the rules of the Pythagorean order were:
1. To abstain from beans.
2. Not to pick up what was fallen.
3. Not to touch a white cock.
4. Not to break bread.
5. Not to step over a crossbar.
6. Not to stir the fire with iron.
7. Not to eat from a whole loaf.
8. Not to pluck a garland.
9. Not to sit on a quart measure.
10. Not to eat the heart.
11. Not to walk on highways.
12. Not to let swallows share one's roof.
13. When the pot is taken off the fire, not to leave the mark of it in the ashes, but to stir them together.
14. Do not look in a mirror beside a light.
15. When you rise from the bedclothes, roll them together and smooth out the impress of the body.
Excerpt from History of Western Philosophy - Bertrand Russell
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Friday, February 24, 2006
It's every man for himself.
Talk of brotherhood and camaraderie are but lies. Even after spending a long 11 weeks with the people I call my section-mates, I still find the overwhelming self-centered behavior unbearable. Perhaps they have never experienced uniformed group life. Perhaps they are still tethered to the civilian world, unable to accept the fact that the pink IC is no longer in their possession. Perhaps they are just being themselves. The ugly singaporean just rears his head everytime.
One particularly poignant incident was that of 220206. Like every other day, the poor section IC (I have the misfortune to be allocated bed 01) rouses at 0515 to greet a bunk filled with oafish, smelly and fast asleep men. The section IC tries his very best to ensure that everyone falls in on time, so that we may have a peaceful breakfast and not start the day in push-up position. Unfortunately, it takes gargantuan effort to wake a few individuals up - the American and the Aussie especially. No amount of illumination and shaking can wake them up. The poor section IC has to prance about the room with butterflies in his stomach as fall-in time draws closer. With much reluctance, the 2 men wake up only to leave their beds in a unkempt (termed half-fucked in military speak) manner. With blankets strewn all over, toiletries and shoes unkept, it was a receipe for trouble. Considering the fact that OC has gotten us into deep shit just 2 days before, I have no idea why they want to do that. Nevertheless, they didn't care what I said, which was "Please keep your area in stand-by condition.", or something to that effect.
Poor IC by this time couldn't give a fuck-shit about what his section-mates thought or did. He was too jaded to care. All this while, since the enlistment, they have never did listen, never. They did what they wish, which was to do nothing. As the law of entrophy predicted, the condition of the bunk soon deteriorated. Newspapers and magazines were all over the floor; The infamous tekong dustballs collecting in every imaginable corner. Poor IC just didn't have the strength nor mental perseverance to continue nagging at these insufferables.
Then, during strength training, the sergeant (henceforth known as "3SG") dropped the bombshell on he. He demanded why the bunk was NOT in stand-by area condition. He even issued an ultimatum, that the section IC will have to take an extra guard duty if the bunk's cleaniness is not up to muster. Section IC couldn't take it no longer. Those selfish little bastards always adopt the fuck-all attitude because if anyone gets into trouble, it's me, not them. I told 3SG of my problem and subsequently, the whole section got fucked. I was happy then.
And now, the solution was to rotate the appointment of section IC so that them insufferables can have a taste of their own bitter medicine. Touche!
Am I as selfish as they are?
To quote one of my section-mates: "Why should I help them when they don't even want to help themselves."
Even now, the same few insufferables are only preoccupied with doing weird yoga moves, playing with an Ngage and talking on the phone. Another of them enjoys cultivating bacteria, fungi and other adorable protozoans at the base of empty (but not quite so) drink cans. Nobody gives a damn about whether the bunk is in stand-by condition.
Nobody gives a damn whether IC is in trouble.
Nobody cares.
So where is the trust?
So where is the camaraderie?
Where?
Talk of brotherhood and camaraderie are but lies. Even after spending a long 11 weeks with the people I call my section-mates, I still find the overwhelming self-centered behavior unbearable. Perhaps they have never experienced uniformed group life. Perhaps they are still tethered to the civilian world, unable to accept the fact that the pink IC is no longer in their possession. Perhaps they are just being themselves. The ugly singaporean just rears his head everytime.
One particularly poignant incident was that of 220206. Like every other day, the poor section IC (I have the misfortune to be allocated bed 01) rouses at 0515 to greet a bunk filled with oafish, smelly and fast asleep men. The section IC tries his very best to ensure that everyone falls in on time, so that we may have a peaceful breakfast and not start the day in push-up position. Unfortunately, it takes gargantuan effort to wake a few individuals up - the American and the Aussie especially. No amount of illumination and shaking can wake them up. The poor section IC has to prance about the room with butterflies in his stomach as fall-in time draws closer. With much reluctance, the 2 men wake up only to leave their beds in a unkempt (termed half-fucked in military speak) manner. With blankets strewn all over, toiletries and shoes unkept, it was a receipe for trouble. Considering the fact that OC has gotten us into deep shit just 2 days before, I have no idea why they want to do that. Nevertheless, they didn't care what I said, which was "Please keep your area in stand-by condition.", or something to that effect.
Poor IC by this time couldn't give a fuck-shit about what his section-mates thought or did. He was too jaded to care. All this while, since the enlistment, they have never did listen, never. They did what they wish, which was to do nothing. As the law of entrophy predicted, the condition of the bunk soon deteriorated. Newspapers and magazines were all over the floor; The infamous tekong dustballs collecting in every imaginable corner. Poor IC just didn't have the strength nor mental perseverance to continue nagging at these insufferables.
Then, during strength training, the sergeant (henceforth known as "3SG") dropped the bombshell on he. He demanded why the bunk was NOT in stand-by area condition. He even issued an ultimatum, that the section IC will have to take an extra guard duty if the bunk's cleaniness is not up to muster. Section IC couldn't take it no longer. Those selfish little bastards always adopt the fuck-all attitude because if anyone gets into trouble, it's me, not them. I told 3SG of my problem and subsequently, the whole section got fucked. I was happy then.
And now, the solution was to rotate the appointment of section IC so that them insufferables can have a taste of their own bitter medicine. Touche!
Am I as selfish as they are?
To quote one of my section-mates: "Why should I help them when they don't even want to help themselves."
Even now, the same few insufferables are only preoccupied with doing weird yoga moves, playing with an Ngage and talking on the phone. Another of them enjoys cultivating bacteria, fungi and other adorable protozoans at the base of empty (but not quite so) drink cans. Nobody gives a damn about whether the bunk is in stand-by condition.
Nobody gives a damn whether IC is in trouble.
Nobody cares.
So where is the trust?
So where is the camaraderie?
Where?
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Nightmares
Army has finally percolated into the part of me that I fought so hard to keep out - it has invaded my dreams. Unlike the biblical david and goliath, goliath has triumphed. The great beast has breached all of my imaginary moats and castles walls. Everytime I go to lala-land, I see myself in P.Tekong stuck in an awkward situation. Either I am being chastised by a superior for something silly or I am trapped in some jungle. The suffocating feeling has made every sleep very much restless.
Perhaps this is NS - a mere bad dream that everyone is waiting to wake up from. We are just but somnambulating zombies that walk the earth of P.Tekong. Time seems to stop when you enter camp and continues from where you left off. It's really like a time capsule, or a stroboscope.
I have many times felt paralysed when I wake up. Perhaps it's one of those supernaturnal encounters. I believe that I am wide awake and aware of the surroundings, yet I am unable to move my limbs. They are in stasis and it is as if I am in a state of ataxia. I believe it is due to the subtle stresses that NS is exerting on my mental health. It may not be overt and apparent but it definitely has its impacts.
Should I be glad that I am going to POP soon? I pray that I am posted to a slack vocation. None of those chiong sua types and hopefully, no stay-in vocations. I pray that I can return home everyday to rest in my own home and hopefully, the spectre of bad dreams will disappear as well. Nothing haunts me more than NS. It plagues me day and night with no end in sight.
Army has finally percolated into the part of me that I fought so hard to keep out - it has invaded my dreams. Unlike the biblical david and goliath, goliath has triumphed. The great beast has breached all of my imaginary moats and castles walls. Everytime I go to lala-land, I see myself in P.Tekong stuck in an awkward situation. Either I am being chastised by a superior for something silly or I am trapped in some jungle. The suffocating feeling has made every sleep very much restless.
Perhaps this is NS - a mere bad dream that everyone is waiting to wake up from. We are just but somnambulating zombies that walk the earth of P.Tekong. Time seems to stop when you enter camp and continues from where you left off. It's really like a time capsule, or a stroboscope.
I have many times felt paralysed when I wake up. Perhaps it's one of those supernaturnal encounters. I believe that I am wide awake and aware of the surroundings, yet I am unable to move my limbs. They are in stasis and it is as if I am in a state of ataxia. I believe it is due to the subtle stresses that NS is exerting on my mental health. It may not be overt and apparent but it definitely has its impacts.
Should I be glad that I am going to POP soon? I pray that I am posted to a slack vocation. None of those chiong sua types and hopefully, no stay-in vocations. I pray that I can return home everyday to rest in my own home and hopefully, the spectre of bad dreams will disappear as well. Nothing haunts me more than NS. It plagues me day and night with no end in sight.
Bubble Boy
Have you ever heard of the bubble boy? The kid with no immunity to speak of and hence has to live in a clean room environment - a plexiglass hermetically sealed capsule. Voila, there you have it, bubble boy. To date, I feel the same. I feel that I am being insulated from the harsh realities of the world, to put it in better terms. I am, however, entering a new phase of unprecedented ignorance. I used to enjoy my daily fix of The Straits Times. It was really like an addiction, a day without knowing what was happening around me would be agony.
I went through a cold turkey period during the confinement period of BMT. For the first 2 weeks, I had virtually no contact with the world at large. I knew not of major events that were changing the world. I knew not of the scandals of Wang Woo Suk, the unethical quack from S.Korea. I knew not of the Danish cartoons satirizing Prophet Muhd. I knew not of the violence that ensued. I knew not of the stroke that Ariel Sharon experienced. I knew not of the hand over of power to Olbert and the rise of Kadima. I knew not of the existence of Lukid. Most damning of all, I was isolated from the exciting discoveries in the realm of science. I knew not.
My cognitive abilities are surely on a decline. In addition to not knowing, I am unable to perform simple calculus now. Neither am I able to construct a coherent essay that would be necessary to secure a place in many renowned institutions. My vocabulary is shrinking like a supernova that has exceed critical mass and well on its way to its afterlife as a white dwarf. I am scared. I am very scared. The prospect of being so ignorant, like never before, strikes fear in my heart. I feel the reverberations of being ignorant. I forgot about Patagonia. I forgot about S.cerevisiae. I forgot about C.elegans.
Of course, reading quality literature helps to retard the speed of degeneration of cognitive abilities. I am currently engaged in "Lolita" by Nabokov and "Guns, Germs and Steel" by Diamond. An eclectic mix of fiction and non-fiction. Unlike the usual fare of thrillers, Lolita grabs hold of the reader by revealing bit by bit the perverse fetishes of H.Humbert. His obsession with nymphets and how he would try to get near them. His thoughts are so coherent and intelligent, yet at the same time, ironically, so twisted. He lays out his strategy like a panther stalking its prey only to let go because of the vestiges of societal mores left within him. The language, I must admit, is far beyond me. Every few pages would yield me a bountiful word list. But without the aid of a dictionary in camp, I am afraid that this would all be in vain.
O medical school, save me from this abyss of mental degeneration. Put me back into the world of academia where I truly belong. I live for academia - my raison d'etre.
Have you ever heard of the bubble boy? The kid with no immunity to speak of and hence has to live in a clean room environment - a plexiglass hermetically sealed capsule. Voila, there you have it, bubble boy. To date, I feel the same. I feel that I am being insulated from the harsh realities of the world, to put it in better terms. I am, however, entering a new phase of unprecedented ignorance. I used to enjoy my daily fix of The Straits Times. It was really like an addiction, a day without knowing what was happening around me would be agony.
I went through a cold turkey period during the confinement period of BMT. For the first 2 weeks, I had virtually no contact with the world at large. I knew not of major events that were changing the world. I knew not of the scandals of Wang Woo Suk, the unethical quack from S.Korea. I knew not of the Danish cartoons satirizing Prophet Muhd. I knew not of the violence that ensued. I knew not of the stroke that Ariel Sharon experienced. I knew not of the hand over of power to Olbert and the rise of Kadima. I knew not of the existence of Lukid. Most damning of all, I was isolated from the exciting discoveries in the realm of science. I knew not.
My cognitive abilities are surely on a decline. In addition to not knowing, I am unable to perform simple calculus now. Neither am I able to construct a coherent essay that would be necessary to secure a place in many renowned institutions. My vocabulary is shrinking like a supernova that has exceed critical mass and well on its way to its afterlife as a white dwarf. I am scared. I am very scared. The prospect of being so ignorant, like never before, strikes fear in my heart. I feel the reverberations of being ignorant. I forgot about Patagonia. I forgot about S.cerevisiae. I forgot about C.elegans.
Of course, reading quality literature helps to retard the speed of degeneration of cognitive abilities. I am currently engaged in "Lolita" by Nabokov and "Guns, Germs and Steel" by Diamond. An eclectic mix of fiction and non-fiction. Unlike the usual fare of thrillers, Lolita grabs hold of the reader by revealing bit by bit the perverse fetishes of H.Humbert. His obsession with nymphets and how he would try to get near them. His thoughts are so coherent and intelligent, yet at the same time, ironically, so twisted. He lays out his strategy like a panther stalking its prey only to let go because of the vestiges of societal mores left within him. The language, I must admit, is far beyond me. Every few pages would yield me a bountiful word list. But without the aid of a dictionary in camp, I am afraid that this would all be in vain.
O medical school, save me from this abyss of mental degeneration. Put me back into the world of academia where I truly belong. I live for academia - my raison d'etre.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Of The Multitude of Characters
Ever since I have enlisted, I have been exposed to a variety of characters. In the civilian world, one can easily mask his/her true character with minimal effort by either reducing social contact or adopting a public facade. However, in a military context, when one is under constant barrage from one's commanders, the physical and mental stresses experience will invariably cause a break down in one's fabricated facade. This blogentry shall detail a few notable examples in the scale of altruism.
1. Wayang King
Strangely, this character emerges quite frequently in my platoon. Initially during the first month, there was an individual from VJC who would always be extremely enthusiastic in training - he would lead songs, be the timer and generally volunteer for almost anything under the sun. It was not surprising that we found such a behavior revolting as we felt that he was jostling for attention from the commanders. However, after the test of time, we discovered that this person did not conceal his character after all. This keen and exurberant character was innate and not in anyway construed for the purpose of entry into commanding school. This person was very helpful in all aspect and his source of motivation seemed not to stem from selfishness. We could all tell that he was earnest and wanted to go to command school but his behavior did not stem from that desire.
However, there's another uglier character that reared his head. Mr X, who hails from a American school in the land of rising sun, is a despicable little scumbag. Initially, he complained to yours truly about his section not wanting to do area cleaning when told. Yours truly experienced similar problems due to the innate laziness of recruits and emphatized with Mr X. But as the days went on, yours truly found Mr X utterly irritating and a true blue hypocrite. Not only did he not do his area cleaning, he always slept and sly away leaving his poor section mates to clean up after him. During training he would wayang in front of the instructors putting up a very earnest image. But when it comes to getting this done, he would command his peers to do things while not doing it himself. Mr X has expressed keen interest in commanding school but his current state of relation with the platoon will ensure that he gets last on the peer appraisal - sealing his fate for commanding school. Being not very well educated with a mickey-mouse qualification from an american institution, I can safely say that Mr X has a good chance of becoming a rifleman. Mr X has lately tried to mend the strained relationship between the platoon and himself. However, that has been met with hostility and he has been ostracized. The platoon strongly feels against putting such a person in a position of authority.
2. Chao Geng King
The Chao Geng King is one who wants to shy away from all training and slack his life away. In all honesty, yours truly has chao genged a few times because yours truly did not have the mood to train. Chao Geng King also has other nicknames, being Santa Claus and Blink 4102. Santa Claus because Santa only works once every year, on christmas. CGK is works just as little, not because of festivity but because he is lazy to the core. Yours truly thinks that CGK is extremely ugly - both in character and physically. He has the looks of an ugly, down-trodden garden gnome. CGK is also called Blink 4102 because he likes to blink his weird gnomish eyes. 4102 is his 4D identification number hence the moniker Blink 4102.
CGK has exhibited the highest level of chao geng ever seen. He reports to the MO very frequently for the simplest of reasons, such as injuring his ankle. He has used that excuse to not participate in runs and SOC. When there are situations where chao geng doesn't work, CGK will pretend to be weak and do everything slowly. An instance was during fieldcamp. He was chiselling away at the ground with barely 10cm of depth while others were already finishing up their nicely dug shellscrapes. Clearly CGK was waiting for the sergeants to help him out or for his platoon to lend him a hand so that CGK can slack off. Like the malignant WK, CGK shies away from area cleaning. He is invariably in the toilet during area cleaning and once he returned too early, he gave a lame excuse of leaving his underwear in the toilet and promptly left to retrieve it - for an extended period of time.
At this moment, yours truly can only think of this 2 extremes because yours truly is tired of blogging. Till next time.
Ever since I have enlisted, I have been exposed to a variety of characters. In the civilian world, one can easily mask his/her true character with minimal effort by either reducing social contact or adopting a public facade. However, in a military context, when one is under constant barrage from one's commanders, the physical and mental stresses experience will invariably cause a break down in one's fabricated facade. This blogentry shall detail a few notable examples in the scale of altruism.
1. Wayang King
Strangely, this character emerges quite frequently in my platoon. Initially during the first month, there was an individual from VJC who would always be extremely enthusiastic in training - he would lead songs, be the timer and generally volunteer for almost anything under the sun. It was not surprising that we found such a behavior revolting as we felt that he was jostling for attention from the commanders. However, after the test of time, we discovered that this person did not conceal his character after all. This keen and exurberant character was innate and not in anyway construed for the purpose of entry into commanding school. This person was very helpful in all aspect and his source of motivation seemed not to stem from selfishness. We could all tell that he was earnest and wanted to go to command school but his behavior did not stem from that desire.
However, there's another uglier character that reared his head. Mr X, who hails from a American school in the land of rising sun, is a despicable little scumbag. Initially, he complained to yours truly about his section not wanting to do area cleaning when told. Yours truly experienced similar problems due to the innate laziness of recruits and emphatized with Mr X. But as the days went on, yours truly found Mr X utterly irritating and a true blue hypocrite. Not only did he not do his area cleaning, he always slept and sly away leaving his poor section mates to clean up after him. During training he would wayang in front of the instructors putting up a very earnest image. But when it comes to getting this done, he would command his peers to do things while not doing it himself. Mr X has expressed keen interest in commanding school but his current state of relation with the platoon will ensure that he gets last on the peer appraisal - sealing his fate for commanding school. Being not very well educated with a mickey-mouse qualification from an american institution, I can safely say that Mr X has a good chance of becoming a rifleman. Mr X has lately tried to mend the strained relationship between the platoon and himself. However, that has been met with hostility and he has been ostracized. The platoon strongly feels against putting such a person in a position of authority.
2. Chao Geng King
The Chao Geng King is one who wants to shy away from all training and slack his life away. In all honesty, yours truly has chao genged a few times because yours truly did not have the mood to train. Chao Geng King also has other nicknames, being Santa Claus and Blink 4102. Santa Claus because Santa only works once every year, on christmas. CGK is works just as little, not because of festivity but because he is lazy to the core. Yours truly thinks that CGK is extremely ugly - both in character and physically. He has the looks of an ugly, down-trodden garden gnome. CGK is also called Blink 4102 because he likes to blink his weird gnomish eyes. 4102 is his 4D identification number hence the moniker Blink 4102.
CGK has exhibited the highest level of chao geng ever seen. He reports to the MO very frequently for the simplest of reasons, such as injuring his ankle. He has used that excuse to not participate in runs and SOC. When there are situations where chao geng doesn't work, CGK will pretend to be weak and do everything slowly. An instance was during fieldcamp. He was chiselling away at the ground with barely 10cm of depth while others were already finishing up their nicely dug shellscrapes. Clearly CGK was waiting for the sergeants to help him out or for his platoon to lend him a hand so that CGK can slack off. Like the malignant WK, CGK shies away from area cleaning. He is invariably in the toilet during area cleaning and once he returned too early, he gave a lame excuse of leaving his underwear in the toilet and promptly left to retrieve it - for an extended period of time.
At this moment, yours truly can only think of this 2 extremes because yours truly is tired of blogging. Till next time.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
But Momma, I don't want to be a rifleman.
The past week saw me flunking my sitest (situational test - a test for assessing the command ability of recruits for purpose of entry to command school) and a whole week of absolutely boring in camp training. I have also thrown a real life SFG 87 (Frag Grenade) and we're actually drawing quite close to POP. Thus, it made me think about what vocation I might be posted to. Previously, the commanders (3SGs and PC) kept emphasising the importance of command school, namely SISPEC (School of Infantry Specialists or otherwise known as Suffer In Silence Plus Extra Confinement) and OCS (Officer Cadet School). The important point being that it is much better to be a commander (and go through all the shit they make you in command school) or end up a rifleman.
Yes. That's what they all threatened us with - being a rifleman. Seriously, the thought of that will put anyone off. Imagine field camp - 7 days outfield, no clean water to bathe with coupled with the numerous tactical maneuvers to be carried out. Not only that, accomodation will be the nice soggy ground and food will be revolting combat rations.
But I am definitely adverse to being a commander. I don't think I want to take up the responsibility of defending our nation in such an important capacity. Like what one of my friend recently mused about, no one is indispensible. Likewise, the country can do without me serving in the forces. After POP, where will I go then? There are several possibilities besides the much dreaded rifleman. I can be an MP, RP, Signaller, Medic, Technician, Storeman or (god help me) Clerk. However, the more coveted of these non-command vocation is rather difficult to get into, considering the small number of places they have.
Another alternative to escape the rigours of field combat is to go to medical school. In exchange, I'll get back 6 years of civilian life and a 3-bar (CPT) rank. Not a bad deal considering that being a physician will guarantee a stable job for the rest of my life should there, god forbid, be no malpractice. Job, release from NS, money, science. All these are satisfied by the study of medicine. It's just an offer too good to resist. But first things first, I have to apply and pray hard that I get in.
The past week saw me flunking my sitest (situational test - a test for assessing the command ability of recruits for purpose of entry to command school) and a whole week of absolutely boring in camp training. I have also thrown a real life SFG 87 (Frag Grenade) and we're actually drawing quite close to POP. Thus, it made me think about what vocation I might be posted to. Previously, the commanders (3SGs and PC) kept emphasising the importance of command school, namely SISPEC (School of Infantry Specialists or otherwise known as Suffer In Silence Plus Extra Confinement) and OCS (Officer Cadet School). The important point being that it is much better to be a commander (and go through all the shit they make you in command school) or end up a rifleman.
Yes. That's what they all threatened us with - being a rifleman. Seriously, the thought of that will put anyone off. Imagine field camp - 7 days outfield, no clean water to bathe with coupled with the numerous tactical maneuvers to be carried out. Not only that, accomodation will be the nice soggy ground and food will be revolting combat rations.
But I am definitely adverse to being a commander. I don't think I want to take up the responsibility of defending our nation in such an important capacity. Like what one of my friend recently mused about, no one is indispensible. Likewise, the country can do without me serving in the forces. After POP, where will I go then? There are several possibilities besides the much dreaded rifleman. I can be an MP, RP, Signaller, Medic, Technician, Storeman or (god help me) Clerk. However, the more coveted of these non-command vocation is rather difficult to get into, considering the small number of places they have.
Another alternative to escape the rigours of field combat is to go to medical school. In exchange, I'll get back 6 years of civilian life and a 3-bar (CPT) rank. Not a bad deal considering that being a physician will guarantee a stable job for the rest of my life should there, god forbid, be no malpractice. Job, release from NS, money, science. All these are satisfied by the study of medicine. It's just an offer too good to resist. But first things first, I have to apply and pray hard that I get in.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
4 Seasons
I made an impulsive purchase yesterday while milling around the streets at Orchard. I had always wanted Four Seasons by Vivaldi but couldn't find it at any of the CD shops for they were woefully stocked with only cheesy mandopop and other popular titles. My foray into HMV yielded a great selection of titles by different composers. Something tells me that I'll be making more purchases at this great, but expensive, cd store.
Anyhow, Spring Festival is all but over for me. The next 9 days will be spent in camp allowing my cough to worsen and possibly develop into acute bronchitis. It is all very possible considering how P.Tekong (PT) has been a hotbed for viral and bacterial infections.
Camp camp camp... bloody camp. Just thinking about it sends jitters down my spine. NUS med is getting all the more attractive. I want to get out of the army. I can't stand it anymore. Not anymore. Anymore!!! Bloody hell.
I made an impulsive purchase yesterday while milling around the streets at Orchard. I had always wanted Four Seasons by Vivaldi but couldn't find it at any of the CD shops for they were woefully stocked with only cheesy mandopop and other popular titles. My foray into HMV yielded a great selection of titles by different composers. Something tells me that I'll be making more purchases at this great, but expensive, cd store.
Anyhow, Spring Festival is all but over for me. The next 9 days will be spent in camp allowing my cough to worsen and possibly develop into acute bronchitis. It is all very possible considering how P.Tekong (PT) has been a hotbed for viral and bacterial infections.
Camp camp camp... bloody camp. Just thinking about it sends jitters down my spine. NUS med is getting all the more attractive. I want to get out of the army. I can't stand it anymore. Not anymore. Anymore!!! Bloody hell.
狗年大团拜
Following the precedence set last year, the class has embarked on another mass visiting this year. The itinerary is as follows: Xavier's house, My house, Weikiat's House and lastly, John's house. This event has been rather uneventful. All we did was to talk, travel from one place to another and eat. The topics of conversation were trite and circled around army, work and nasty ex-bfs. Anyhow, it was still good to meet up with the old class and see what everyone is doing. People change. Justin has got longer hair, while the other guys have botak heads. The girls have assumed the role of a teacher. For some, the tables were turned on them - vindictive students turned victimized teachers. Things should get better, once BMT is over. I do hope so.
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