Its been awhile since I’ve been here. The last digit of the 4 digit number that remains constant for 365 days(366 every 4 years) has changed for about a month. The red packet season is also just over. ”Hunting” wasn’t that good this year. Lacking in bounty. But oh well. These are trivial things. Haha

Am now offically a SAF “C” Vehicle mechanic. Just so you know, A is for armour; B is for passenger carrying vehicles; C on the other hand, is for EVERYTHING ELSE with a motor that the SAF owns. WOW right. I agree. Oh chainsaws and the grasscutters that those banglas use to cut grass included. Haha. Singapore Chainsaw Massacre. Sherriff Mao. How’s that man! Heh. 

Oh and I just blew close to 100 bucks yesterday. Bought this amazingly, crazily, whatever-ly thick Shakespeare Collection. Am very proud of it. Now just to find a place to shelve it, and then get down to reading it.

Lastly, a few excerpts from a book I’ve been reading. Reminded me of something, someone..
     “I’m sorry too.” His sorry sounded almost as dry as his thank you. He frowned. ” But I am in love with you.”
     “You love me like a pig loves mud,” she told him.
     “Yes,” he said flatly. It wasn’t a pretty phrase. ” Which leaves me naked. I have a harder time forgiving you then you must have forgiving me. Because you’re not in love.”
     “No,” she admitted. “Not like you.”
      He did not look hurt. He wasn’t being manipulative, merely factual.
     “But I don’t want to lose you,” she told him. ” I don’t want us to have to be all or nothing.”
     “Me neither. But I might have no choice. It’s hard to be friends with an unrequited love. It can make you crazy. It can make you act like a real shit.”
     “It’s no picnic for the beloved either,” she argued. “Feeling guility all the time. Getting sick of seeing puppy-dog eyes.”

If only she understood? Why??

The Spirit is too Blunt an Instrument

The spirit is too blunt an instrument
to have made this baby.
Nothing so unskilful as human passions
could have managed the intricate
exacting particulars:  the tiny
blind bones with their manipulating tendons,
the knee and the knucklebones, the resilient
fine meshing of ganglia and vertebrae
in the chain of the difficult spine.

Observe the distinct eyelashes and sharp crescent
fingernails, the shell-like complexity
of the ear with its firm involutions
Concentric in miniature to the minute
ossicles. Imagine the
infinitesimal capillaries, the flawless connections
of the lungs, the invisible neural filaments
through which the completed body
already answers the brain.

Then name any passion or sentiment
possessed of the simplest accuracy.
No. No desire or affection could have done
with practice what habit
has done perfectly, indifferently,
through the body’s ignorant precision.
It is left to the vagaries of the mind to invent
love and despair and anxiety
and their pain.

Anne Stevenson

A certain friend thinks the poet’s been through a hell load. Whatever. Did the poem struck you too? Haha.

Apparently thats what I am suspected to have. No, I didn’t offend anyone. Not that I know of anyway. Lame. Haha. Well, I probably should be more precise. SLAP tear, where SLAP stands for Superior Labrum from Anterior to Posterior. Haha cool name huh. One wonders whether medical students have nothing better to do, coming up with names like this. But oh well, I guess cool people just gotta have cool injuries with even cooler names to match. Haha.

Oh and the chief clerk’s being an arse. My medical status is obviously out and that idiot insists that it isn’t. My ‘sources’ or ‘source’ for that matter tells me it is in the middle of her inbox; right smack in the middle of 80-plus unread emails. How’s that for S-L-A-C-K man? Oh and my ‘source’ happened to chance upon it when she was out on one of her regular 1-plus hour lunch jaunts. The woman didn’t even bother to lock her computer. Says a lot eh.

Oh and I have found something meaningful to do! Read this magazine people. The Atlantic. It’s fabulous! Or as fabulous as anything can get when you’re like stuck in a computer lab from 8 to 530 everyday. And its FREE! Bah. Certain stories in the fiction issues really hit home though. Damn you pencil.

I picked up a new book: Penguin’s poems for life. Seemed like a cool collection, its holding up so far. I feel a rough patch coming. Someone(s) getting jaded? I don’t know. Ahh well. Lastly.. Today was just wonderful.=)

Experience has taught a soldier how to pack his pannier,
with the stuff he needs most
near the top, where he can get at it. In the outer pockets
he stows his onions and garlic, sealed tight so they don’t
stink up the weather kit and half-fleece on the other side.
At the bottom, deep inside, he stashes those items that must
at all costs be protected, against dust, against being
dropped, against the elements. There, in the doeskin
you gave me, I keep your letters, my darling wife.

If any of you people out there are wondering, the poem is found in “The Afghan Campaign” by Steven Pressfield. Its about the march of Alexander the Great on the way to conquer the world! Not about George W. Bush vs Osama Bin Laden/Taliban. Haha. But yeah when I read it, it just somehow tugged at my heartstrings? Considering that I’m doing my national service now and all, it just seemed so.. pertinent? Maybe I’ve watched too many war movies, where the enemy kills the guy then finds on his dead body, letters from his mother/wife/girlfriend/loved ones. Then they proceed to realise that actually, WOW the enemy is human too! Then they start asking why are they fighting this war and all.. Zzz. Haha. But thats like not the point. The point being, its touching how a single person can be another’s motivation(for the lack of a better word) to fight and kill other sentient beings and sacrifice his conscience and all. Deep huh. Aiya. I don’t know. All I know is that..

I love you.

Something I’ve been ripping off my head these few days. Tufts of it. Then trying to stick them back on, with the sweet-stickyness/sticky-sweetness that’ll be oozing from me. Haha. Lame. Zzz. 

Anyway, Im more than glad the whole thing’s been resolved. And that you’ve experienced the ‘ULTIMATE’ sensation! I’d never forget this day man. Really. Oh, and did I mention? I’m good. GO ME!=)

Oh. And the poem I wrote just for you? I’m very proud of it! Thats why its going to be placed up here! Courtesy of me. Heh.

To Make You Smile

I love my earth.
Her delicate curves
shoot up all my nerves.

I love my goose.
Her full, full lips
make my heart do flips

I love my square-face.
Her big, huge eyes
see through all my lies..

Dearest love.

By: ME!!

Wow? I can’t believe I wrote that. Serious!

On another note. Now that I’ve promised everything, I’d give everything. No-holds-barred, for better or for worse, everything. But, its like pencil still pops up (sometimes?). But even once is one time too many. And now that I know how better, i daren’t say anything. Least of all to you. But it sucks to keep it all cooped up. Especially from you. Kind of painful. How How How? Blegh. 

Lastly, you rock. Yeah man.=)

Been reading catch-22. Its cool. In a whatever, hard-to-plough-through way. But cool nonetheless. Its absurd, crazy but oh-so-true. How people are impervious to abolutes, being only able to measure their own progress in relationship to others. His writing style is damn WTH-this-guy-is-IRRITATINGLYYY-good! Stuff like:
“Colonel Cathcart was greatly indebted to Colonel Korn and did not like him at all. The two were very close.” Nice huh?
“Losing money was no simple matter. It took months of hard work and careful misplanning.”
and..
with a character named Major major major major. (1st major being his rank and last one being his surname.) Can I say more? I love him.

Having said that, I have become a special report vetter. Haha. And he had to give me all those bull about how this is good training for the future when I become an executive or whatever. And when I commented that execs don’t get $400 a month, he had the cheek to say.. TREAT THIS LIKE AN INTERNSHIP! HA!
and that wasn’t even half of it. BUT, I  actually learned quite a bit. Ahh well. Training to be soldiers.. Why must we serve? Haha

And.. Lastly. Been hooked to this song today. WEELLL. I hate to admit this, but. Its a ‘pencil’ song. Sucks man. Zzz.

Now its my turn to tell you, you’d do ok too.

How come our lives ain’t like movies?

I miss the sparkle in your eyes..

But these mean thoughts and cheap shots won’t last for long

Coz i’d with you; fighting in all these rounds..

Spread your wings and soar!

Rawr?;)

Amour

She said i was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Not true.
i was a lamb, in armour.

Brian Patten

Cool right. For people whom are wondering, Amour is not a spelling mistake. Amour means love in French. Yeah. In the first line ‘She said i was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’ The poet aptly describes the way most women feel towards suitors. A little apprehensive, suspicious, wondering whether the guy has any ulterior motive; he just wants to get into her pants aka ‘bed and breakfast’ or whatever.

Then the last line. ‘i was a lamb, in armour.’ Here, Patten uses a befitting analogy. The guy as a lamb; an pure, vulnerable creature that’s innocent and has only recently come into this world. Yet, despite all that, he dons on a suit of battle armour. Armour that prepares him for all the trials and tribulations(ie, any shit) love throws his way. That, although he himself is not acclimatised to this world as of yet, he is willing to fight and protect the one person he holds most dear: his girl.

Sweet huh. I know.=)

One word describes the turns my life has taken. Who would have thought that I’d spend 10 hours a day learning about engines, admiring the cold, flawless metal plates of an armoured vehicle and last but not least, ’looking forward’ to getting up to my elbows in thick, black, sludgey machine grease. Ahh the Fates are unfanthomable. Life is a joke? Haha.

That aside. Yeah. Went to watch Avenue Q last Sunday. Enjoyable. Witty and Satirical. Although its EXPENSIVE like VERY. Zzz. And although i felt extremely sleepy, (All thanks to Messrs Leopard tank, M113 and Bionix. Haha.) thank YOU(you know who you are).=)

TIP outing last Friday/Saturday was cool. Walking around NTU in the middle of the night. Wowza. Oh and it was nice catching up with them people. And to the fellow non-sleeper: We’re cool. And to the ammo tech: Nice fire. Really warmed me up so early in the morning! Haha. LAME.

Oh and to my neighbour/ex-classmate/DotA-fellow/whatever, last night was cool. We should like so totally do it again. Good prep for when we become old and senile and hunched and toothless and the works. Old ah pehs at coffeeshops. Reminiscing about old times.. Hahah. And you’ll never know. They flock to me. I’m pro. HAHA.

To someone who called last night even though I knew she was going to die and she knew that i knew that she was going to die and i knew that she knew that i knew that she was going to die and…. yeah.. Thank you. I Love You. Though i wish things were different and all. Blegh.

Oh and second-lastly. I don’t know why, but i haven’t been reading lately. This is BAD. Really BADDDD. Someone help me. Save me. Please..?

Lastly, something dedicated to Someone Somewhere. I (wish I could) hate you. HB. Bah.

An Early Afterlife

Why don’t we say goodbye right now
in the fallacy of perfect health
before whatever is going to happen
happens. We could perfect our parting,
like those characters in On the Beach
who said farewell in the shadow
of the bomb as we sat watching,
young and holding hands at the movies.
We could use the loving words
we otherwise might not have time to say.
We could hold each other for hours
in a quintessential dress rehearsal.
Then we would just continue
for however many years were left.
the ragged things that are coming next-
arteries closing like rivers silting over,
or rampant cells stampeding us to the exit-
would be like postscripts to our lives
and wouldn’t matter. And we would bask
in an early afterlife of ordinary days,
impervious to the inclement weather
already in our long- range forecast.
Nothing could touch us. We’d never
have to say goodbye again.

Linda Pastan

Sweet huh. But quixotic? If you ask me, living each day as if it were my last would entail doing alot of TRIVIAL things that i wouldn’t have done otherwise. All the small little things that i wish i would have done? But that would mean i would pass up on the BIG SIGNIFICANT ALTRUISTIC things that i might have considered doing had i not treated it as my last day on the face of the earth. Then when im really dying and look back, I’d probably realised that I’d led a beautiful life, but not a meaningful one. Blegh. Why can’t we have the best of both worlds? Haha.