March 9, 2005 (The Last Day)

Amazing how time flies, doesn't it?

It only seemed like yesterday that I first came into Tekong, as a civilian, to be transformed into a soldier. Now, it has already been 9 weeks, and today, I had completed my Basic Military Training, and have passed out as a Private, no longer a Recruit. The Passing Out Parade was exhausting, and rather pointless in its rehearsals, but on the actual day, it meant so much to us, for it symbolized the 9 weeks of shit we all had to endure, and the fact that we have endured it successfully.

Now, those 9 weeks weren't all good. In fact, there wasn't much good in there, to be honest. But still, it's over, finally. I'm just about done with Pulau Tekong, and I'm all the more happier for it. Even though I'm still just a puny Private who still has 1 year and 9 month's worth of shit to get through for the rest of my National Service Life, I have passed the first phase of my military life, and while I still have to go back to Tekong every now and then to settle some stuff, the official part is over.

Which, actually, means nothing much. Except that I could probably grow back my hair now, lol.

Well, it's been a long 9 weeks, and while I haven't updated this blog as much as I would have liked, it was still a good 9 weeks detailing my life and thoughts in Pulau Tekong. Unfortunately, everything has to end here now, and I'll see you all back in the original [A.Z.] blog. Until then, ciao, all.

March 1, 2005 (Day 53)

I'm really starting to miss those girls.

Oftentimes, while I am in here, I end up wondering how they are doing right now. I've neber had a chance to meet them ever since the last outing before I first came to Tekong, with the exception of WR, and the way they have become almost uncontactable at this point in time is not helping. They are all out in the world right now, working for their moeny, and I can't help but wonder if they are doing okay. ST has always been working even when I knew her in school, so I have no worries about her, and I've seen WR at her workplace, and from the looks of it, she's doing just fine as well. But I have no idea whatsoever about how EL is doing since I last met her, and oftentimes I wonder about how she is. It's been a long time since I last saw them, and how I wish I could go back to the days of PJC, when, whenever it's not about homework, it's about mingling with them, and having fun teasing the pretty, empty little heads of theirs.

Well, perhaps I would finally meet them this Friday. If rumors about the 'A' Level results coming out this Friday turns out to be true.

It's strange, I know, but when you're in the Army, te life is sufficiently tough enough to make you unable to think about anything else beyond your present predicament. And that's including the 'A' Levels. Even though the outcome would turn out to be the indicator of the direction of my life, I have been finding it hard to think of it that way. For something that was the basis of two years of my life, the 'A' Levels have become frivolous, almost trivial, inits meaning to me. Maybe it's because I have a rough plan as to what to do with my life if I don't make it to NUS. Maybe it's because I am no longer thinking about it as yet to be, but as something that's already past. Whatever it is, it has seemed to cease being meaningful to myself. I wonder what this means.

Things can really change when you're not aware of time passing. Now, whenever I book out during the weekends, and I get home, and after washing myself, I would turn on the computer......and hope to meet that someone who I've been really wishing to meet for the whole week. And she would have been waiting too, waiting for the week so that she could meet me just once on the weekend. That someone is NeNe. I don't know how to describe it, but it really seems like the start of what I hope would be something beautiful. Even though the odds against us are great, I being a 19-year-old Singaporean NSMan with a pittance for an 'income', and she an 18-year-old Craotian schoolgirl, we cherish this hope that we would meet someday, and hope is blind. This much I know.

It could be a long time before we actualy meet, if at all, and in that time, so many things could happen. Still, I will wait, hoping that fate would soon deal the both of us better hands than we have presently.

Jason and Naomi. What a pair.

February 28, 2005 (Day 52)

I thought I was getting confinement last Saturday, since the Sir read out my name for confinees the night before. That was a truly demoralizing moment, for it meant one more day of your life that the Army has taken away from you.

So imagine what I felt, when I found out that the Sir had made a mistake, and I wasn't supposed to be confined after all......20 minutes before the whole company was due to board the fastcraft back to civilisation.

Oh yes, first it was elation, then it was downright panic, as I rushed to dress and pack up, hoping I won't drag back my platoon by being late. They were pretty pissed about it too, but firstly, it wasn't entirely my fault, and secondly, I could hardly care less about what those fucktards think anymore anyway. Why should I care about what they feel, when they don't care about what I feel at all?

I've lived the last 2 years believeing that the best kind of friends, those friends that you can count upon to soothe your soul when you've had too much of life, are the ditzy, airheaded girls who are not smart enough to be truly nasty. I just never expected to prove this theory to be correct, right here in Pulau Tekong. For the comapny I keep in Tekong are all guys with 'A' Levels pedigree......and either they turn out to be worse versions of JC, or worse still, worse versions of the bullies of my secondary school days. Okay, that's tarring everyone with the same brush, and some of them definitely do not deserve such a scathing label. But still, most of them are less hospitable to me than I would have liked, although admittedly I cold be a little more amenable to them as well. But it's just that......well, when you put a lot of pressure on someone, you can't expect him not to retaliate, can you? The wrost thing is, whever I have had enough of this fucked-up life, and called those of my friends who can be considered quite smart, their response tends to be a varaiation of "Stop whining and acting like a wimp, and take it like a man". really demoralizing. And while my more airheaded girls have become increasingly hard to reach, whenver I do manage to contact them, their response tends to be varaiations of, "Aw, just bear with it, it's only so long before it'll all be over. Be strong, okay?"

Just about the same meaning, but such differing impacy. The latter sounds so much more morale-boosting than the former, and how it shows that whoever said it cares about you too. There's something to be said for being not so smart after all.

I have realised that I haven't been updating this diary as often as I would have lifed, and it is because of a sad combination of factors. Either I have had no time to do so, thanks to the sergeants annoying vigilance, ot I have become so tired, , so uncaring of anything at all, that I could not make the effort to write anything, again thanks to the sergeants' efforts at breaking us down. I also realised that the general mood of what I had been writing these days have reverted to the world-weary, deflated tone that I started out with when I started my first blog. Man, it's been a while, and yet it seems like it was just yesterday......well. Let's just say that all the Army has taught me isL I'm no soldier. I cannot take pressure as well as everybody else, and if that makes me a wealking, there's nothing I can do about that, you know? That's me, like it or not, and you can take it or leave it for all I care. I'm someone who works better with gentle encouragement than prodding pressure, and since the Army is all about pressure, no surprise I perform very poorly in such an environment indeed. But that's a story for another time.

Right now though, I've got to get back to reality. Which, in my case, happens to be the business of being a recruit in Pulau Tekong BMTC School 2. And which, at this instant, involves cleaning our the devillishly hard to clean AR-15 assault rifle, a thankless task which could take hours to complete.

Stupid rifle.

February 24, 2005 (Day 48)

The last few weeks is nothing short of disillusioning, to be honest.

It was all downhill ever since field camp. The crumb balls have become three distinct groups: those who are not bad to hang around with, those who are perpetual strangers, and those who are just bloody fucks. Field camp, instead of gelling us together as a team, has only seemed to bring out the true colours in people, and the differences are creating tension that seems to be permanent. For my part, I have been victimized by the fuck who was supposed to be my buddy, and it is really irritating to have to face an exact copy of the bullies who tormented me during my secondary school days. But well. He's only the latest in a long line of fucks I've seen in my life, and besides, if he wants to be the childish one, that is his problem, isn't it?

What is even worse is that I have become a target amongst my patoon mates and the sergeants alike. It's especially the bloody fucks who like to pick me out for sarcastic comments, and being the kind of person who is both too nice and too slow-witted to throw anything back, I have been keeping it in my heart, simmering. One day, it will all explode, I know. But I'll make sure those bloody fucks get caught in the blast as well, for that is exactly what they deserve. No more Mr. Nice Guy. They don't appreciate my nicer side, they can have the roaring mad me of 5 years ago.

Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about the sergeants. All my efforts to stay out of their blacklist have been in vain, and apart from always being picked out, I have also been loaded with quite a few extras......most of it for nothing. POP is only 2 weeks away now, so there might just be a chance I can get away with most of it unserved......but still, it's just demoralizing, to be honest. Taking away our weekends doesn't teach us anything, it only saps morale, and if I get too much, I could very well just break down and give up. Then whether I complete NS or not will become a moot question.......

The worst thing is, it has become too hard to contact the girls anymore. Most of them don't even pick up at all, and when you are looking forward to a kind voice to soothe away your cares at the end of the day, being shut out like that only demoralizes me even more. I still know I can't expect so much from them, but in such a stressful situation, passion is starting to overcome my reason, and it is getting harder to think positively without any feeling of emotional support from your friends.

It's too hard. It's getting too hard. Where can I find an understanding ear to listen to my woes? Who can soothe me when I'm in pain?

Still, reality bites, and there's no ignoring it. It was rifle range last week, and while it seemed fun initially to be firing live rounds, punching holes in cupboard only gets to be repetitive, even irritating, when you have to do it for 3 days straight. Besides, range discipline is so strict, it's easy to fall prey despite all the care you have taken. The grenade throws was fun though, and although it's only a throw, the adrenaline is so much more than anything. The actual explosion isn't as loud as some people believe, to be honest.......but it's the way the earth shakes from the explosion that makes the grenade so scary. Still, it was real fun.

As I'm writing this, I can say that I just came back from SITEST yesterday. The thing about SITEST is, it IS as fun as many people say it is, but it is also very exhausting. It's not as bad as field camp though, in fact it is better when you consider that you're starting afresh with people you've hardly met. It means that for a while, you're free of the prejudices developed in the platoon. But good things don't last. And so, right now I'm sitting in the Discussion Room, waiting for the RASF WSO interview, and hoping I won't get guard duty by the last minute this weekend.