note to self

every week NS boys book out and try to outdo each other with the saddest story about their NS lives.

when i read it, this blog seems to be a tad too dedicated to my afflictions. so much so that it has become a shrine to my pains that no one bothers to read or visit.

so this is a note to myself.

life's not over.

the Lord is my shepherd, i shall not be in want.

medical officer = devil

so i had a fever on thursday night, with a temperature of 38.7 degrees. after taking medication and being sponged down, went on for a 6km run the next morning. then, i decided i couldn't take it anymore and decided to go report sick.

walked down to smc to see the MO(medical officer), had my temperature taken by the medic, and waited for my queue number to be called.

and then the horror started. proceeded in to the consultation room, to see a skinny doctor-in-training, who happens to be the MO i was to be consulting. asked a few questions, and had no examination from him whatsoever. after assessing my condition, i hear him say(with a hint of sadistic glee), that i was to be sent to the sickbay.

and the sickbay was where i was put on drip the MO's order, where i was poked three times because saf trained medics aren't good enough, and where i fell even sicker only to tell the doctor i am well so i could get out of there as soon as possible.

i find the SAF's policies on their treatment of ill soldiers questionable.

firstly, why the use of sub-trained doctors and medics to treat your soldiers? it seems to be that they do not really care about the well-being of their soldiers, making use of only whatever available resources they have, even if it is insufficient. they do not really care about whether their soldiers are able to recuperate well or not. they have doctors-in-training on scholarships and they are gonna use them.

secondly, SAF doctors are possibly given a directive with vested interests. or they themselves probably have vested interest. like the policy of putting fever and vomitting patients on drip in the sick bay, which is absolutely unnecessary. do you see doctors in normal clinics hospitalizing you? the purpose of such an action is quite unlikely to make you get better, as it didn't work for me. it is probably to deter you from reporting sick again.

SAF may probably look very good on paper, with medical centres to give you ready medical attention, and sick bays where care is given for sick soldiers, specialist centres to see for your injuries and all. but look beyond the paper, ask us soldiers is SAF really treating us well? a specialist appointment usually takes more than a month to get, to get treatment for an injury you acquired in service to this organization. and the service which we get at medical centres and all, ask us soldiers.

if the nation is going to take family's son away from them, they probably should assume some responsibility in the care of these people.

but then again, maybe this is not the case in every camp. maybe it is just the woes of us lowly-paid combat men or just us divers. tell me how it is for you.


and give me novacaine.

real life..

So i was walking around looking at stuffs today, mostly electronics, when i was bemused by an irony. They are making television images look so good that they actually look better than real life!

Are the things that are shown on tv supposed to be a re-enactment of real life? Why is it so that manufacturers are continuously researching and developing new ways to bring out better visual effects, aiming not just to recreate a scene you'd see with your own eyes but something that is better than what you'd normally see. Sharper colours, more vivid details.. The television brings out more than your eye can behold.

Maybe real life has become too boring. So much so that people have to come up with new things to enjoy aesthetically. There are not enough colours in the world, not enough scents in the morning air, not enough curves on the human body. And so we must alter it ourselves.

Maybe real life has disappointed us too many times. How many times have you wanted to go somewhere only to have your hopes drowned by the rain? Or how many times have someone you placed your faith in let you down? Or how many times have you thought that this one, this one, was the perfect one that would work out, the one to spend your life with only to be crushed by the realization you could have made a mistake. That is why we have to think up romantic fantasies, and create entire separate realms to live a perfect life in.

And as i looked at all the wares people were trying to sell, i wondered if any of these could actually make life better for me. If the purchase of a t-shirt would make me more attractive, or a book would give me new meaning to life. I would like to believe too, that purpose and meaning could be bought over the shelf for a bit of money, disguised under something with nice shiny plastic wrapping or whatever.


I wonder what'd make real life beautiful, and give me some meaning in life.


and they say His name is Jesus.

glass window.

sometimes i feel like i'm standing behind a glass window, watching everybody getting on with their lives. getting married, going for trips, growing up, falling sick, falling in love, building friendships, getting over heartbreaks...

and i have no part in any of this.

what used to be my life seems to have been left behind me, and pushed to the back of the memory of others. my life is leaving me behind.













today i was just the stranger playing the guitar.

or it felt so.


the day is over and i'm in love with you again.

cause when i take a look around,
everybody seems so strong.
i think they'll soon discover,
that i don't belong.

so I tuck it all away,
like everything's okay.
if I make them all believe it,
maybe I'll believe it too.

so with a painted grin,
i play the part again .
so everyone will see me,
the way that I see them.

this week

so, another week is over.

this week was the week when we got liberty, in navy lingo, or night off in army lingo. where we got about 3 hours to go out of camp to do whatever. spent it at sun plaza with my friends, and got calmino palminero, china version.

this week was the week where i witnessed 3 boys cry. supposedly there was a 4th, but i didnt see it. is this torture or training?

this week was the week i got a nose bleed from going 3m underwater with a blocked nose. it was bleeding till yesterday, pray it doesn't act up.

this week was another week i've learnt that no man can go alone, without friends and without God. in good times you might forget one, in tough times you'll want both. but at all times, you need both, and they are always there.

my bags are packed, i'm ready to go..

i'm standing here, outside the door..
i hate to wake you up to say goodbye..

well, not quite. my bags are still not packed yet and i am right in front of the com. also, there is nobody special to say goodbye to, and most importantly, i am NOT ready to go.

so its back into camp to get some shit, and 5 or 6 days later, i'll be back out here again, only to go back in, then out. and in, and out. and in, and out. and again. its becoming such a nary routine, and whats scary that i sometimes cannot find anything meaningful to do when i book out. its 2 years, this way or another.

i'm glad for my wonderful friends, like my t19ers, like the stones peeps, like the girls with them, apple, ann, chloe, mel and all.. like eric, like lydia who gives me something to look forward to every bookout, who gives me all the loving i need to last me for the week long isolation i have to go throught when i go back in.

but sometimes i feel like i need this.....

so kiss me, and smile for me,
tell me that you'll wait for me,
hold me like you'll never let me go..

my bags are packed, i'm ready to go..

i'm standing here, outside the door..
i hate to wake you up to say goodbye..

well, not quite. my bags are still not packed yet and i am right in front of the com. also, there is nobody special to say goodbye to, and most importantly, i am NOT ready to go.

so its back into camp to get some shit, and 5 or 6 days later, i'll be back out here again, only to go back in, then out. and in, and out. and in, and out. and again. its becoming such a nary routine, and whats scary that i sometimes cannot find anything meaningful to do when i book out. its 2 years, this way or another.

i'm glad for my wonderful friends, like my t19ers, like the stones peeps, like the girls with them, apple, ann, chloe, mel and all.. like eric, like lydia who gives me something to look forward to every bookout, who gives me all the loving i need to last me for the week long isolation i have to go throught when i go back in.

but sometimes i feel like i need this.....

so kiss me, and smile for me,
tell me that you'll wait for me,
hold me like you'll never let me go..

i remember how i used to be. i kinda miss who i was.

but i'm excited about who i am gonna be.

just that i hate who i am right now.


God, please hold my heart in Your hands.