A Moment For Eternity

My girlfriend has a more exciting life than me

2010-04-15T17:31:00.005+08:00

This is my girlfriend.

And this is me. FML. I need to get out more. More when my exams are over.

We will remember the fallen.

2008-11-09T17:07:00.003+08:00

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

Mary Elizabeth Frye

If

2008-04-18T22:04:00.003+08:00

For those who wear specs or are above the age of 50, or both, poem is reproduced below for your failing eyesight. Too good not to be shared, again.

If, by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!

4790m later...

2008-01-07T11:33:00.000+08:00

It was a 4 day slog, through lush temperate woodlands, frozen streams, snow-covered fields, sheer rock walls, pecarious goat paths, and windstruck passages.

It was 3 lung-fuls of thin mountain air for every step, frozen fingers, frostbitten toes, muddy boots, snow-blinded eyes, 15 kilos on my back, -15 degrees celsius atmosphere, 3 layers of protection and a stomach full of determination.

It was conversations with your teammates at 3000m, words of encouragement every 5 minutes at 3500m, whispers of encouragement every 20 minutes at 4000m, and only the 20 knot wind and the sound of your heart and breath at 4500m.

It was goat shit, yak shit, bull shit (literally and metaphorically), horse shit and 'OMG WTH did I get myself into this shit'.

It was ceaseless cursing, ceaseless yearning, ceaseless complaining, ceaseless faith, ceaseless pain, ceaseless hope.

It was worth it.

Black Tuesday

2007-11-26T03:16:00.000+08:00

It was the absolute worst day of my life, almost a full year ago. Progress Check Flight, and I needed to demonstrate my flying abilities to the test instructor so he could clear me for my next sortie. I can still remember every detail like it was yesterday, and as I learnt in psychology, that is one of the symptoms of PTSD. But I guess it's a haunting memory which serves to teach me now, a lesson I have to learn even now.

I prepared for the flight, every detail from before take-off to after landing. I spent the weekend in base to prepare, I took time during my breaks to mental fly every detail, and the night before, I kept going over each detail again and again, to make sure I didn't make them.

Then it came to my flight, and the errors started from the ground. Weather came in, it became a touch and go whether I would be taking off that day for my tests. I did, and I forgot details I had practised many times before even before walking to the aircraft. My checks went on with difficulty, I made some error calls on the radio, I took off late because there were too many aircraft in the circuit.

In the air, clouds obscured my vision at the altitude I was supposed to operate. There was supposed to be inclement weather, so I took my aircraft down below the operating level to do my air exercises. Bad call, as turbulence affected me throughout my tests. I screwed up on stalls, I made bad judgements on area management, and my flying simply wasn't up to par as I wrested control over my plane with the weather. Then, I was supposed to recover back to base.

I wasn't sure with the recovery route having panicked throghout, I missed a call, switched to traffic controller at the wrong time. Then, while making my descent, I busted protocols and went faster than normal, and on my way back, I focused on lowering speed I forgot my altitude for low level recovery. I was 900ft AMSL(above mean sea level) and ground was at 300ft AMSL, if I was overflying the CBD, I would have been been a permanant fixture on UOB tower. My instructor had been watching throughout and letting me commit all these errors, until I was so low he was worried I was going to let him become more acquainted with the vegetation. He took over and quietly brought me home. My nerves were wracked, I wasn't able to even do after-landing checks without screwing up. I got out the aircraft wrong, I almost walked into another aircraft taxying out, and when I reached the water cooler I was trembling and ready to break down.

It wasn't over. I had my debrief to go for still, and for such a screwed up flight which I had prepared so well for, I was not looking forward to it. My test instructor took one look at me and asked if I had come all the way to fail on purpose, to collect good money and go home when I had made my share. At that point, I was ready to find a really tall building to jump off. I walked/stumbled my way to the toilet and just broke down. That was the absolute lowest point in my life. Worse than having not done well for A-Levels, worse than not qualifying for any scholarships, worse than death even. At that point, I was a good for nothing, money grubbing, worthless piece of roadkill, and I still do not know how I managed to get out of that day alive.

Maybe it was the anger, that I was called a money minded cock-up, that I was there for the salary. I wasn't, I was truly hoping to make a career of flying then, and I made my point after going to the test instructor after work to clear up my reputation. I wanted to pass, because it was my dream.

Maybe it was the eternal idealist in me, that failures never seemed too far from me but I never seemed to cave in. Breaking down in the toilet, I picked myself up and walked straight to my review instructor for some coaching before the end of that horrible day.

Maybe it was just a quote which stuck in me. 'Why do we fall? So that we learn how to get up.' It was another failure in the long list of screw-ups which define my life, but hell if I'm gonna lie down and stay down.

I learned some things on that Black Tuesday, things which stick with me till now. Prepare too much, and improvisation becomes difficult. Take things too seriously, and life becomes seriously screwed up. Every day, is another day. I am still learning lessons, as evidenced by this post-study reflection which I am undergoing now.

Pain is inevitable, suffering optional. That's a new lesson, and I think most relevant now. I make some pretty lousy decisions sometimes, but suffering the consequences far longer than they are supposed to last is entirely up to me, and I think it's about time I end it. I'll make small changes, not drastic ones, but changes nonetheless. I've got to find new focus, a new direction, and not blindly stumble again like I did after that check flight from hell.

I'm finding new meaning in the quotes I get from that test instructor oh so long ago, in that debriefing room. In one year, the meaning has changed for me, 'When everything seems to go against you, remember that pilots take-off into the wind, not with it' It's a matter of taking failure in stride, and just going on to achieve what you want, even though you might not know what you want yet. I might have FUBARed on military aviation, but that ain't the end yet, there's something else for me still. Something I need to find.

Don

PWNAGE!

2007-10-05T18:17:00.001+08:00

17 Hours to...

2007-09-24T18:59:00.000+08:00

OMGawd. OMGawd. OMGawd. Fanboy raves... Jumps around like mad monkey. I'm such a nerd. But I can't help it, IMHO, it's just the biggest video game release OF ALL TIME.

2007-09-04T17:27:00.000+08:00

2 pictures which turn me on. John-117...

and err...Jinling-86...

Lest we forget

2007-06-18T03:06:00.000+08:00

It is an honourable and serious charge
that I today lay upon you,
(name)
in appointing you
(position)
Maintain by your bearing
And conduct the diginity of your position.
Protect the weak, spur the faint hearted,
Curb the unruly and the thoughtless.
Suffer your own cheerful devotion and zeal.
Be firm, be discreet,
Be as far above favour as you are above fear.
Go now on your path of leadership,
Conscious of the trust reposed in you,
And may God prosper your work.

So maybe I can remember the entire Officer's Creed even now, and recite back from front, but hey, this one still beats every pledge out there. This one means something, and doesn't compromise. It still takes the cake, every time.

Covering my six, 24/7

2007-06-10T12:46:00.000+08:00

The Sunday Times Lifestyle section covered an interesting trend nowadays. Nicole and Celeste Chen, 21 and 17 respectively, have 16000 friends. Each. And that's going by official numbers, unofficially it may be double that. How you may ask? By a very vague, superficial and utterly derogatory definition of the word, friend. Click on friendster, myspace, facebook or any of the other gazillion services available on the World Wide Web, find a handsome/pretty face, then look for the button which says 'add as friend'. Making a friend is as simple as that nowadays, you don't even need to know the person, or have met, spoken, even communicate before. Just add him or her.

I admit I was part of this fad a while back. It certainly seems enticing to have your profile page full of people, and to have hundreds, even thousands of people who 'know' you, makes you feel like a celebrity. You have so many people whom you can call on to hang out with, and those many good-looking people makes you look good by association. But that's where the illusion ends. You really don't know those people, and a good majority will never want to meet you anyway. You only see the public image people want you to see, but never the private person underneath. You might argue the 'body count' matters only for instant gratification purposes, just to feel 'shiok', but then at the end of the day, when you lower the expectations for a friend, then that's what you have left, 16000 faces who only smile for you.

A friendster only smiles for the camera. A friend cries with you, gets angry for or over you, feels for you. A friendster writes a testimonial which lists all your positive points. A friend tells you all about you, good or bad, and still sticks with you, despite the shortcomings, flaws, imperfections. A friendster is displayed on your profile page for the world to see. A friend couldn't care less whether anybody else knows about him or her, as long as he or she is by your side, or your back. And they'll stay there, as long as you do the same for them.

I have this small group of real friends. Maybe even brothers, since we have shed tears, sweat and blood together, and that's even before all of us were sucked into the Big Green Machine. We were together since our secondary school days, where friends are hard to come by and good friends even more so. We went through the same school, ate the same canteen food, suffered through the same camps, slept in the same tents, ogled at the same girls, basically lived through the same school life. But that's where the similarities end, because we dealt with life in our own way. Some of us lived next to MM, own 2 cars, have a bungalow, while others dwell in modest HDB housing. Some were popular with girls, having had 3 or more girlfriends, while others were content to have known any girls at all. Some are destined for greatness, studying in prestigious schools on government scholarships, while others are happy to be in SMU, NUS or NTU. With so many factors in between us, you ask how the hell did we stick together for almost a decade already?

Frankly, I can't explain. This 'band of brothers' wasn't formed by clicking on an 'add' button. Maybe it was those camps where we had to endure. Both the camp, and each other. Endure the cooking without salt, or the loud snore kings, or the sabo kings who almost always accumulate push-ups for us, simply by opening their mouths. Maybe it was the guyz outings. Where we lanned, or watched some movie and utter 'banzai!' or 'ahhooohhh!'(like a wolf, or a Spartan) for weeks after. Maybe it was the scheming. Against 'the man', who insisted on tradition in all that we do and loved to have a Coke can in his hand. Or the plotting of campfires, to flood the Atrium with people and make them cheer and vote for lip-syncing performers. Or planning to go some 'nua' beach in the region, or climb a mountain. There are so many maybes, but most probably we became friends because of everything.

We live through the best and worst of what each one of us had to offer. I know who has the worst smelling feet, who snores loudest, who is afraid of the dark, who has what problems in his life now, who needs to have a girlfriend real soon. Likewise, these guyz know my vulnerabilities, my strengths, my lowest point, my highest point, me. We know each other so that we can cover for each other, hold on tighter when someone falters or close ranks when hardships are abound. It's like the Spartan shield wall, an impregnable wall of shield and spear, made up of the man who stands to your left and right, who will not retreat because you are by their side. They trust you to cover their six, all the time, and they'll do the same for you. So maybe we had the occasional betrayal or pang seh (sorry mew and nick), but when it matters, we'll be there, for each other.

So when you ask me if I'll trade these 10 friends for your 16000, it's like Xerxes offering the world to King Leonidas for his 300. I'll give you the same stoic look, and ask you to take your offer. And shove it.

Don

Need some pretty things?

2007-06-09T02:09:00.000+08:00

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ps. Brandon chen rules the world

RI that was...

2007-06-04T23:13:00.001+08:00

RI looks so...functional now...The beloved prefect's room is now relegated to a corner booth, in the CCA room's section. Looks like the bookstore if you ask me, but then Welfare Dept. has always been the place to lend out stuff. But it's so small, puny by Gryphon's Lair standards. Those days, the prefect's room wouldn't be closed at 6pm! I know it's the school holidays, but even during my school holidays, I don't remember having a life outside of school! It was spent in the PB room hatching a plan to take over the school! OK maybe not, but it was along the scale of something like that. We were always busy with something, and the room was always open, with someone strumming the guitar or playing Liero or Pikachu volleyball, others sitting by the big table planning an event or other, and still others on the carrom board.

Then of course there's the scout's den. But it's in such a mess now I'm afraid of posting any photos of it in its current state. I know it's annual camp and all, but for the place to be so messy is inexcusable. GQM! Horseshoe! Clean up the den before I make you lick the place till it's spick and span. Plus we had parents and old boys today, if they saw how we maintain our den, we'll be classified as glorified rag and bone men.

But as usual, the sun setting in RI can never be missed. It's a sight to behold, either while sitting on the stadium steps or looking out over the linkway. The sunset photo was taken above the canteen (you're reading that right, there is now a floor above the canteen...or rather the canteen has been moved below the floor).

RI that was. Comes from the one-liner in Firefly, where the characters describe 'Earth-that-was' because none of them have ever been there, but all have heard of how it was. The RI we knew then no longer exists in the form that we recognise, it has changed to become something new for a new generation. To all the Rafflesians now, all we can describe to them was RI that was, because they would know the school differently. RI may change, but I hope a Rafflesian never does.

Buddies

2007-04-16T02:02:00.000+08:00

To the less handsome looking gentleman in this photograph, best of luck in your future flying, and here's hoping to seeing you with the coveted wings (I can't remember the young eagles thing already, hahaz sorry mate). Good hunting buddy, and try to keep your appetite too...

Auguries of Innocence

2007-04-12T04:21:00.000+08:00

To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour.
A robin redbreast in a cage
Puts all heaven in a rage.
A dove-house filled with doves and pigeons
Shudders hell through all its regions.
A dog starved at his master's gate
Predicts the ruin of the state.
A horse misused upon the road
Calls to heaven for human blood.
Each outcry of the hunted hare
A fibre from the brain does tear.
A skylark wounded in the wing,
A cherubim does cease to sing.
The game-cock clipped and armed for fight
Does the rising sun affright.
Every wolf's and lion's howl
Raises from hell a human soul.
The wild deer wandering here and there
Keeps the human soul from care.
The lamb misused breeds public strife,
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.
The bat that flits at close of eve
Has left the brain that won't believe.
The owl that calls upon the night
Speaks the unbeliever's fright.
He who shall hurt the little wren
Shall never be beloved by men.
He who the ox to wrath has moved
Shall never be by woman loved.
The wanton boy that kills the fly
Shall feel the spider's enmity.
He who torments the chafer's sprite
Weaves a bower in endless night.
The caterpillar on the leaf
Repeats to thee thy mother's grief.
Kill not the moth nor butterfly,
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh.
He who shall train the horse to war
Shall never pass the polar bar.
The beggar's dog and widow's cat,
Feed them, and thou wilt grow fat.
The gnat that sings his summer's song
Poison gets from Slander's tongue.
The poison of the snake and newt
Is the sweat of Envy's foot.
The poison of the honey-bee
Is the artist's jealousy.
The prince's robes and beggar's rags
Are toadstools on the miser's bags.
A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent.
It is right it should be so:
Man was made for joy and woe;
And when this we rightly know
Through the world we safely go.
Joy and woe are woven fine,
A clothing for the soul divine.
Under every grief and pine
Runs a joy with silken twine.
The babe is more than swaddling bands,
Throughout all these human lands;
Tools were made and born were hands,
Every farmer understands.
Every tear from every eye
Becomes a babe in eternity;
This is caught by females bright
And returned to its own delight.
The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar
Are waves that beat on heaven's shore.
The babe that weeps the rod beneath
Writes Revenge! in realms of death.
The beggar's rags fluttering in air
Does to rags the heavens tear.
The soldier armed with sword and gun
Palsied strikes the summer's sun.
The poor man's farthing is worth more
Than all the gold on Afric's shore.
One mite wrung from the labourer's hands
Shall buy and sell the miser's lands,
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole nation sell and buy.
He who mocks the infant's faith
Shall be mocked in age and death.
He who shall teach the child to doubt
The rotting grave shall ne'er get out.
He who respects the infant's faith
Triumphs over hell and death.
The child's toys and the old man's reasons
Are the fruits of the two seasons.
The questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to reply.
He who replies to words of doubt
Doth put the light of knowledge out.
The strongest poison ever known
Came from Caesar's laurel crown.
Nought can deform the human race
Like to the armour's iron brace.
When gold and gems adorn the plough
To peaceful arts shall Envy bow.
A riddle or the cricket's cry
Is to doubt a fit reply.
The emmet's inch and eagle's mile
Make lame philosophy to smile.
He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt,
They'd immediately go out.
To be in a passion you good may do,
But no good if a passion is in you.
The whore and gambler, by the state
Licensed, build that nation's fate.
The harlot's cry from street to street
Shall weave old England's winding sheet.
The winner's shout, the loser's curse,
Dance before dead England's hearse.
Every night and every morn
Some to misery are born.
Every morn and every night
Some are born to sweet delight.
Some are born to sweet delight,
Some are born to endless night.
We are led to believe a lie
When we see not through the eye
Which was born in a night to perish in a night,
When the soul slept in beams of light.
God appears, and God is light
To those poor souls who dwell in night,
But does a human form display
To those who dwell in realms of day.

- WILLIAM BLAKE

Burrows Syndrome

2007-03-21T07:47:00.000+08:00

Have been catching up on serials I missed while I was away, rented season 1 of Prison Break, which is entertaining in a highly unplausible yet wildly exciting kind of way. Feel a bit like Lincoln Burrows though, like on death row awaiting for the seat, but having hope of escape torturing him throughout. Alas, today is my day though, at least it ends today, and I can stop hoping. Let the DC flow, all 10000 volts of it.

Don

The Torment of Hope

2007-03-19T03:26:00.000+08:00

It's one of those days. And I'm starting to feel like these kind of days are getting a whole lot more common, especially with so much down-time now I am having now. I was MSN-ing with a course-mate who's down under, talking about how things are going down at the squadron, how his first solo was so shit-hot and the course feeling under the weather and all, then the feeling hits me. I know how stressful and crappy things can get when you're there, how the days seem to last forever when you're suffering. And I wish I was with him. Still.

I failed. I thought I had come to accept that fact, adjusted to go on with my life. I planned, charting out a course for which I can take outside of the Air Force, seeing a life ahead without the military in my life. I enjoyed, eating every damn thing I missed in Australia for which I have every chance now to gorge myself with, going out with friends and trying to have a good time with my girlfriend. I looked past my mistakes, past the last shitty sortie I had, putting away the dress blues and peak cap, returning every damn bit of flying equipment back to where they came from. And still I look back. And stare.

It's like I never left. I sleep most nights, late as I can trying to tire myself, so I don't end up dreaming so much, and still I see it. The operations board, the planning room, the safety equipment room, the aircraft, the cockpit. That view from 1000 feet. I wake up, thinking I woke up too late and looking for my flight boots, then I see the view outside my window, and realise it's not the Officers' Mess Annexe I'm looking down at, but Redhill Market. The checks, the R/T, the QFI's voice is still with me. I remember every word.

I've done my clearance, but I haven't had my closure. Maybe signing the contract termination will do it for me, but then it's not till FTS gets the thing together for me to sign. I still have to wait. Life goes on, but painfully slow. I want to forget, move on, but time doesn't want to move any faster or heal any better for me. I want to carry on, but then I haven't ORD. I want to stop flying, but I still have another chance for the commercial route. I want to live my next phase, but it's not here yet. I want to say I quit, but hope doesn't let me. I know it's only a matter of time, but the question of when is eating at me, and somehow, not knowing only makes one think too much, hope too much.

Read somewhere before, some book somewhere, Woman Warrior or something like that, my Lit text, that normal people move on and say different things. They tell different stories. But crazy people tell the same story over and over again. They never stop. Because they hold onto something so stubbornly, they let go of their sanity. Let me let go, please.

Don

Because I Fly

2007-02-28T12:49:00.000+08:00

Because I fly,
I laugh more than other men
I look up
And see more than they.
I know how clouds feel
What it's like to have the blue
In my lap.
To look down
On birds
To feel freedom in a thing called the stick
Who but I Can slice between God's billow-legs
And feel them laugh and crash with His step?
Who else has seen the unclimbed peaks?
The rainbow's secret?
The real reason birds sing?
Because I fly

I envy no man on earth.

Welcome back to the suck

2007-01-01T21:29:00.000+08:00

Someone has been watching too much Jarhead. That's the first thing my friend said to me as I stepped back onto base, back from 10 days home leave. But then again, can't blame him, he had to cover all the duties over here while we were home. He was working while I was partying away Christmas, out with my girlfriend, or simply spending time with the family. Kudos to the men and women who serve while we enjoy this festive season.

I'm back in the suck, and yes, it feels exactly as it sounds. Been here 4 days and I'm bored beyond comprehension. Need to pick up the tempo again, but there's no tempo to pick up until the base reopens. It's a dead town here, no one here except the few of us who have to man the skeleton crew. No one wants to do it, but there's no one else to do it, which leaves us.

Happy new year to all, ain't that merry for us watching the frontier here, but hell, here's to hoping the year isn't half as bad as how it began for me. For one, let this be the year where I get my half-wings. Whole lot of things left unresolved in the last year, but maybe it's the time now for things to get tied up. Or cut off. Either way, resolved is the end result.

Life hasn't been rosy or treating me well, but I won't forget the small graces it shows me. Didn't manage to do as much as I wanted when I was back in Singapore, but now, it doesn't matter anymore. 10 days may be way too short, but hey, I wasn't supposed to be back this December anyway. Kind of wished I didn't go home, now it only makes me feel more homesick. Let time heal these wounds, and work drown those memories. I still have something to accomplish here. I still hope I do.

Don

Terra Firma

2006-12-21T03:12:00.000+08:00

On familiar ground once again, even for just a short while. Cleared my review sorties and my subsequent prog cx again, with the same instructor who failed me the first time round. It was such a relief to get over this hurdle, albeit a small one. Circuit work ahead, and that's the major obstacle. I'm going to be expected to land the aircraft myself within 6 sorties, 6 hours of flying and I'm expected to be able to land by myself. Tall order, but then again, this is my life. Make the cut, or get the chop.

Came home yesterday, flew through all that weather and witnessed superior skills by the SQ pilot who had to navigate and land through the tropical thunderstorm yesterday. Cloud cover was present and at several flight levels, going as low as A030 I think. It was cats and dogs as he came in on the runway, with extra speed to counter the headwind I guess. He put her down fast, was a greaser landing, so smooth I didn't feel the touchdown, then pushed out the brakes fast. Impressive landing, here's to hoping I can do as I've witnessed.

Home now, all I can do over the next 10 days is catch up on food, life and love. I'm always working against the 4th dimension, time, in my line of work. Even having a break means having to put it to a timetable. Just hope to enjoy Christmas as it should be, with loved ones and a hearty meal. Let us enjoy the audacity of hope for a while longer, and see how far it brings us.

Don

Prog Cx

2006-12-10T02:04:00.000+08:00

It's hard to face failure. I'm not ready to go home, don't know what I'll do if I can't make it as a pilot. How can one accept that his one dream in life is not something he can achieve? It's like in that scene in Serenity, when the Operative has seen the truth behind the Alliance, found out the conspiracy behind the Miranda massacre, seen that his 'world without sin' is but a living nightmare, and his famous last words to Malcolm,"There is nothing left to see". A man without a dream, without the one thing which keeps him wanting to breathe, from one moment to the next, has nothing left. He is nothing.

Failing my check ride brought that image in my mind, it's like having front row seats to my own funeral. Knowing how screwed up I was when I was up in the air, making the mistakes that even rookies wouldn't, I don't know what the hell I was doing here. I had gone up more than enough times, practiced my sortie both on and off the ground, and still I was making the errors that I had done previously. What was I thinking? Worse still, my first review flight went worse than my test, and I think the senior instructor who took me was stretching his vocabulary trying to find euphemisms to soften the blow to me. But it didn't take away the truth that I screwed up again, and worse than before.

My next review is on Monday, and this one is make or break. Shape up, or ship out. Everyone's trying to help me out, including the instructors, but it still boils down to me. Because I am in control of the aircraft, and I must fly her. I will, or I will come home. Then again, where is home when there is no longer any heart, no longer any man left.
A man needs no home when he has nothing left.

Desk of a pilot trainee

2006-11-30T00:04:00.000+08:00

Laptop for entertainment in a world without TV, pictures of my other love, BOLDFACE actions to ensure I don't stare blankly at Death when he comes for me, cockpit mock-up to mental fly with, study guide and flight manual. And a picture to remind me why I'm here, lest we forget...

Don

cheesy neoprints

2006-11-23T14:10:00.000+08:00

I got a C for my essay :( so sad. today is a sad day :''''''(

And i missed you a lot today.

So i went to scan our neoprints.

Ta daa~! so cheesy right hahas. aiya. don't care.

:)

Jinling

Break-neck

2006-11-22T22:53:00.000+08:00

Consecutive day sorties, duties which stretch from before the sun rises, till after the sun sets (FYI, sun rises at 0500 and sets at 1900 here in Australia), and insufficient coffee. Things aren't slowing down for base closure, they're speeding up. I have to catch up with the pace, otherwise mistakes will be made. And in my world, Murphy isn't very tolerant with those who make mistakes. Those who go 10000 ft in the air tend to end up more than 6 ft under when Murphy strikes. Need to work, to study, need coffee and a bit of love.

Don

News Flash

2006-11-16T00:55:00.000+08:00

Hellohellohello.

Brandon says he'll be back from 19th-29th december! yay! now is the time to extort him of meals!

Muahaha.

Oi brandon, remember your challenge k. heehee.

Boredly,
I Am Not Stressing You

Missing home

2006-11-06T16:08:00.000+08:00

It's hard, to be away from everything you've known and been with for over 20 years. 1 month in Tamworth was a long time, but 10-12 months here totally makes it a whole new ball game. I miss my bed, my room, the food, the friends, my mum's, sis's, dad's and even my own 21st birthday. I missed our anniversary, I will miss many more days with you, i miss going out with you, holding you, seeing you giggle and laugh and smile and showing farnie faces. I miss home.

But I come here with a mission, a goal in mind. It's a dream to fulfill, something lifelong that I told you since our first 3 months in AJC. It's something which is so much a part of me, that I'm willing to get away from everything I love, just to come here and suffer long days, sleepless nights, endless duties, tears, sweat and blood. This venture was never going to be easy, I acknowledged that, but things could be done to ensure it doesn't get any harder then it already is.

I sacrificed everything for this one shot, to fulfill a dream. It means everything to me, to see through what I sought when I put my name on the dotted line a year ago. I don't know if you ever fully understood what this means to me, but now I'll make it clear. This is me, and I intend to invest the whole of my being to becoming a pilot.

I explained in the beginning of our relationship what this means, but now I hope you recall what I said then. I love you, and I just hope you can see it the way I do.

Brandon

A video of beautiful girls dressed scantily

2006-11-02T15:17:00.001+08:00

Hello amomentforeternity,

You are getting boring cos your owner seldom write anything in you. so lemme feed you with a sexy video of beautiful girls dressed scantily.

Hmmph ok fine. maybe it's not exactly what you expected. it was just one of my rehearsals. but whatever. i think we're chio. spot me!! i'm one of the first 4 girls. and i'm not FAT muahahaha if you get what i mean.

Love,
So I Think I Can Dance

100 kts, rotate...

2006-10-31T23:41:00.000+08:00

T/O done, still alive in Pearce. Moved in newer blocks here, now have limited capacity internet. Resorting to short updates, coz of time and bandwidth, I'm doing almost 1 flight a day. Tomorrow have another GH, so I got to prepare. First flight was stressful, but fun as hell, nothing on this earth can prepare you for a takeoff in a jet. WAY COOL. Will upload picts as i can, till then, lots of love. muacks to love, thanx for keeping ppl updated...

Don

where is dondon?

2006-10-01T16:03:00.000+08:00

Hi everyone! brandon is too busy to blog now. he has left for Perth. so please don't call or sms to his handphone number anymore till further notice... unless if it's an emergency! or if you're willing to pay like.... err... high phone bills. meanwhile, flood his email inbox instead! or nudge him forever on msn!

Love,
I Am A Busybody

Lest we forget

2006-09-22T16:44:00.000+08:00

2006-08-26T16:57:00.000+08:00

Jinling is the chioest girl on Earth. she's very smart too. And I love her oh so very much, not because of that. But because she is who she is. And I want her to have a very nice birthday, and give Piggy lots of love, even if the tickets were a better present. Muacks...

Don Don

Post mortem

2006-08-09T20:57:00.000+08:00

I am human. As any other living, breathing person here on Earth, I am entitled to my own personal character. I may often be mild-mannered and have a cool disposition, but that does not mean I cannot become fiery at times. As like any other, I possess a temper, which I choose to control most times, but not all. Sometimes I lose it, but then again, is it not human to lose your temper at times? My temper may not show itself often, but that does not mean it is absent.

I make assumptions, but name me one person who doesn’t. Who wouldn’t assume that your own heart would carry on beating the next moment? Or that night will not follow after day? I make assumptions based on valid observations, or so I hope they are. If I don’t, then how am I supposed to carry on living in a world where nothing can be certain, or close to certainty? However, assumptions are one thing. Insinuation is another. One is something which one makes after observation, the other is implied by others already, in what they may say. It is because of this I watch the words I say, letting them pass by my gray matter before they leave my mouth.

But then again, I am only human. I get tired. My mind becomes lazy, it lets things get by. Things slip off my tongue, accidental but nonetheless still wrong. I make mistakes. But the apology exists for this reason. Because we would definitely make mistakes in our lifetime, the word ‘sorry’ exists for us to use it, and gives us another chance to correct the wrong. I have apologized many times in my lifetime, and though it may be a difficult word to use at times, I would use it if it was warranted. If it was warranted.

I have certain ways to deal with people. I love my friends with words, I treat all others with silence. Sometimes silence is better. With those you don’t know, it allows you to listen better to what they have to say. With those you may disagree with, it allows both parties to think clearer, and make for better conversation later. For those you hate, sometimes silence is a whole lot less vulgar. Whatever the case, silence lets us think about what was said before, and what needs to be said after.

When I am silent, I am thinking. I am trying to understand. I am certainly not slacking. There is a reason why I like silence, it allows me my own space sometimes. To space out my thoughts, let them run their course. Like in the book “Tuesdays with Morrie”, I don’t understand why people must fill the air with words. What’s wrong with silence sometimes? When two people are tired and having a bad day, wouldn’t it be worse to have both parties talking? Words which don’t carry what they mean get passed around, and worse still, tempers fly. Often over the simplest and most stupid issues we can find, which shouldn’t have surfaced anyway.

I am having a lousy week. It may not be worse than yours, and definitely does not compare to the Israeli soldier having to storm an enemy-occupied house or the Lebanese who just had his home shelled. But comparison does not make anything better. It never does. If it’s bad, it’s bad. Right now, I don’t feel like hearing another word. I don’t want to apologise. I cannot tolerate the slightest mistake. My temper is on a short leash. I want to have my OWN time. And you can’t do anything about it, why?

Because I’m simply being human. And since it takes one to know one, the only thing you can do for me? Understand, and empathise.

I am human, so are you. Let’s start acting like so.

What it takes

2006-07-29T02:40:00.000+08:00

Seeing the images of war in Lebanon is a disturbing reminder of what can happen when we let things slide, sooner or later it gets out of hand and we get a catastrophe on our hands. The catalyst for the current war was a single soldier, now I don't think anybody even remembers his name already. The army has focused its crosshairs on Hezbollah, and will only stop with its complete annihilation. Or so we hope.

What does it take to end a conflict like that? Is it doomed to be a perpetual cycle of hate? All we hear everyday is another escalation, more people hurt, more blood spilled. Rockets bombard Northern Israel, or suicide bombers hit another market or bus or crowded street. Then Israel responds with bombings, and tanks roll into another town. While all this is happening, the UN sits in a meeting debating mere words to reach an agreement to send a peacekeeping force in.

I did a project on the cycle of violence in the Middle East in JC, think I got a B for it because none of those grading it could ever give a project on this subject an A. We see the violence and it makes our stomach turn. When both sides are right and wrong at the same time, who can we support? What would begin as a war to ensure the right to live, would end as a battle of those who are left behind from that war. If this cycle carries on, the inevitable last stroke would occur. That last escalation, which would mean unprecedented destruction. Who would make that last escalation? It doesn't matter, because nobody would be around to debate that anymore.

What can we do with such a dire situation in the Middle East? I no longer think anything can be done, we can only sit back and watch as basic humanity and rationality ends, while politics and irrational hate takes over.

Pursuit of happiness

2006-06-18T23:20:00.000+08:00

Singtel obviously does not endorse my blogging at all, I have been totally unable to post anything from home, and the only way I can get anything online is by going to a wireless hub somewhere to post. Irritating as hell, but at least I've got some other way to put stuff online.

So basically my past few weeks have been rather relaxed, enjoying life as I promise I would before having to leave home. Finally got my license last Monday, and never felt such a sense of liberation before, removing the shackles of SBS and SMRT schedules, and away from the tortures of paying Comfort and Citycab another fare. Driving does have its down side (pump price and CTE jams), but hey, I'll rather deal with those then go on another ride with a taxi driver who doesn't know how to change gear and has a sense of direction so weak he can't find his way around Singapore with a GPS hardwired to his brain. Managed to drive my parents, my girlfriend and my buddies around, soon I hope I can drive myself to work.

Speaking of my buddies, just had them over yesterday to catch the World Cup matches last night. Admittedly I am not a fan of soccer, but much entertainment could already be derived from watching Jun Seng cringing dramatically as Ghana misses a goal, and Fabian battling it out with Zhaoyang and shouting "SHOOTO!" at the top of his lungs. Furthermore we had a special guest yesterday, Lau who makes a rare appearance at Guys outings once in a while. Sharing my lack of interest in the beautiful game, I was glad he still came at least to meet a couple of the Guys.

While walking him home very early this morning, we somehow arrived back at my level of happiness, and how I filled my time with things to occupy myself and fill my inner void. Lau probably didn’t notice it himself, but I knew that his evangelistic streak was making its appearance again. Somehow the purchase of my Xbox 360 and me getting the Guys over for a round of soccer, even when I talked about living life while having a girlfriend was becoming a routine, all of it narrowed down to a problem. There was something missing in my life. There must be. I may look happy on the outside, but inside I’m depressed and suicidal, because my life is seemingly incomplete.

No offense to Lau, it’s not that he was doing anything wrong on his part, I know it is the duty of every Christian to spread the word. It’s just that I can smell a sales pitch from a mile off. Maybe even 2. But here’s a counter-argument which I feel I am obliged to provide to those who feel their lives are empty, and that there is more to life then the ‘pursuit of happiness’ by being with friends and loved ones and having your own Xbox 360 to play with.

I am happy when I smell the shampoo in my girlfriend’s hair, or when she tugs my hand along and giggles gleefully as she spots a sale item which looks particularly appealing. I enjoy the company of friends, and their interactions. Putting Guys like Fabian and Alvin and ZY in a room elicits a smile simply from how they GL each other, and nothing can garner laughter better than watching a bunch of my pilot trainee dudes getting drunk off their arses. It’s these simple moments which give me the motivation to live on, and get from one moment to the next.

The problem comes in when we question ourselves, is there more to life then this? It is when the pursuit of happiness no longer makes one happy, and one is convinced that he or she needs something more in their lives. There has to be an eternal happiness, not that type of fleeting happiness which one derives from the things one experiences in life. There must be the Holy Grail in happiness, that one thing which will ensure happiness in any situation, and it lies with…well now it’s up to you to decide which name suits you better.

Lest we forget, having a religion doesn’t absolve you from having to pay your bills, or getting fired, or having a quarrel with the missus, or losing a loved one. It provides one with the mechanism to cope with sadness, and that is the crux of the issue. Religion is only a mechanism for sadness, or happiness. What can truly keep one happy, eternally? You could keep yourself full of marijuana at all times of the day, everyday, but even then, you are still prone to the low when the weed runs out. Truth is, eternal happiness doesn’t exist, and if you’re about to be convinced by someone selling the notion that believing in God is eternal happiness, stop and ask yourself, am I just getting more depressed listening to this guy?

So how can I be happy? The answer lies in that bit of gray matter which lies behind your eyes, above your nose and is encased in your skull. For me it’s simple pleasures like having loved ones over for dinner, or seeing a smile on that old lady’s face when you give her 2 dollars for nothing when she offers to sell tissue to you, or playing with a bunch of orphans and letting them be the pilot while you fly them around a room. For religious folks, it might be prayer or singing your lungs out every Sunday. But if your idea of happiness involves the police or armed forces in any way, I suggest a chat about it with your psychologist first.

What I’m advocating here is that everyone has his or her own way to being and staying happy, and we should respect that. It disgusts me when I have to fend off people who insist I’m internally unhappy, and that my pursuit of happiness is futile. I hope I don’t have to waste another breath in explaining to someone how my Xbox 360 can keep me happy, because it simply does. Do I have to know why it does? No. Sometimes, ignorance is truly bliss.

But if you’re unhappy, then what’s a surefire way to happiness? If you lack the $660 for an Xbox 360 Premium, then here’s a method which work for me almost all the time, and which people have proven to work.

Make someone else happy.

It’s as simple as giving a treat to someone you love, or just giving a dollar to the tissue paper auntie, or simply keeping a smile on your face. With those first steps, you are on your first steps towards your own pursuit of happiness, and happiness you shall get.

Don

Farewell and godspeed

2006-05-31T14:12:00.000+08:00

Today sent off my fellow course mates from 130 BWC, who leave for 130 SQN today. It was with a tinge of sadness that I could not leave with them, but I guess the sacrifice is worth it. Hope my buddy does well, and don't get too demoralised over there, seeing how he looked to be a bit low today as he walked through the gates. My turn will come in a few months, but till then, it's about making my rolling over worth the while. Time after all, is a luxury not many in my line get...

Don

and i love you too

2006-05-16T01:46:00.000+08:00

Yay! someone loves us! he's so sweet! yup we're fugly and compatible woohoo! not to mention sweet and intelligent beyond belief and so totally happy together. aren't we sweet honey buns fruit tart apple pie sugarsugar candy darling light of my life? don't you love 'em 'passerbys' giggles

Love,
Fugly girl

Walkway

2006-04-23T15:24:00.000+08:00

The walkway leads from the academic block to the canteen and hall. Every Rafflesian who has been to the Bishan campus, will remember the House and ORA boards, the wooden benches, the chairs and tables stacked inside the stairway to the top of the clock tower. The open air walkway with bougainvillea flower bushes on the second level, and that breeze that never goes away. This was the only photo I ever took from the Gryphon Lair, next to the prefect's room and the scout dens, a picture of just the shetted soccer field. Now walk that same walkway from the staff room and you hit a wall, cordoning off the construction site where once the canteen was. Where the physical world has left nothing behind, your memory carries on...

I used to just sit on the portion of the walkway where they cut off, inches behind the wall that stands now. The never-ending breeze would blow, and I would just have my random thoughts, or not even think at all, just taking in that moment between lessons, enjoying the view of the field or people walking to the canteen. Or watching the sun set, slowly but surely over Junction 8 in the distance.

Further on, it was the Gryphon's Lair, the relac corner above the canteen. It was the place for some carrom or board games, or just to sit on the old, discarded couches. If you were from 01 or 02 and more recently the RIPB, you would be in front using the lousy and loose powerpoint, connecting your hifi or radio and practicing some funk dance. Scouts would be having their meetings, or having first aid, rope tying or any number of activities in the Gryphon's Lair.

In the midst of all that activity outside the prefect's room, some poor prefects would be trying to plan an upcoming event, or would be holding a departmental meeting. The radio would be on to compete with the noise outside, the phone might be ringing off the hook with some teacher trying to reach a prefect for an event, someone would be shouting in jubilation for scoring an ultra-difficult win in carrom, the guitar would be playing as someone strums a tune, or at least trys to, and I would be writing in the board diary about that 'quite chio' gal.

Across from the PB room, would be the scout dens. The 01 den would be in its usual state, with that funny but familiar smell coming from the carpet from god knows when, and god knows what has gone into that carpet over the years. The cupboards lining the side of the den would be filled with patrol logs all the way from the first years of our group, the table surfaces would have been lined with notes for lashing or pioneering or (name your scout skill), 486 computers would be operating with someone playing some real oldie, older than doom or dune 2. Think really old. Some poor Sec 1 would be having his first lesson in playing expert carrom, getting trashed by a J1 or other who would be teaching the finer points on a seasoned carrom board (A secret which neither the prefects nor the 02 scouts have been able to crack, how 01 gets super-smooth and shining carrom boards without powder. I have made my , and shall say no more.) If you came really
late one nite, hear laughing and then bored voices, a long sermon-like speech on the essence of scouting, or just plain bullshit, relax, it ain't the moose head hanging on the wall of the den talking, nor have our dead old boys paid a visit. It's a GC meeting.

02 scout den? no comments, too boring. Oh maybe one thing, they like to throw shit over to our den, because the dividing wall between our dens is really that low.

Then there is the canteen, heaven on earth, provided you're willing to queue, you can find a seat or table without bird shit on it, and YOU ONLY ORDER FROM THE LEFT SIDE OF THE CANTEEN. LEFT SIDE. SAY IT WITH ME, LEFT SIDE OF THE CANTEEN. EMPHASIS IS FOR A REASON, REPETITION IS ALWAYS FOR IMPORTANT POINTS. LEFT, LEFT, LEFT SIDE. Drinks, dessert, WESTERN FOOD, and KI. Kampung Istimewa. Genetically modified HUGE chicken thighs fried with an oily but oh so wonderful batter. Nasi Briyani, only on Fridays, and only if you come fast enough and auntie can remember your name. Nothing else. Right side at ur own risk, it's your digestive tract so heed my advice if you want to continue having one.

The atrocious first floor toilets, where people eating from the wrong side will converge, and the banner painters, and the sportsmen who need to take a leak running in with their shetted boots, and the odd Rugger who has just been stepped on in training with metal studded soccer boots, and is bleeding profusely with a head wound above his right eye and getting his red Moor House shirt even redder, washing his wound in a basin where someone has spat in, washed his dirty hands or leg in, washed his paint covered hands with thinner in, and others we shall leave unmentioned. That odd Rugger is still very much alive...

And he is currently feeling nostalgic. That was the RI canteen block, as I remember it. Now there is nothing there, a construction site with piling equipment and cranes. Soon it will be the new auditorium, from 2007 onwards. Soon it will give some new Rafflesian his own memories, something he can hold onto even when he is old and graying, and the building itself no longer exists.

I guess this was how the Old Boys from the Grange Road or even the Bras Basah campus felt, seeing their school only in their memories. Bras Basah campus is now Raffles City, you can read the plaque for the memorial for Raffles Institution. Grange Road is now still part of MOE, but no longer a school. But I guess in feeling this sense of loss, I feel something else, that I have moved on somewhere in life, I am walking on in life. But right now, I'm just taking a glance back, through that walkway I have passed through, past that metal wall the world has constructed, but where my memory doesn't stop.

Happy Birthday to me.

2006-03-31T14:46:00.000+08:00

So this is me, or a recent collage of what has been my life recently. Some photos are obviously not taken by me, and some seem totally irrelevant, but hey, I'm entitled to say what has inspired me right? After all, it's my birthday. I can't display some of the stuff I've taken, so there are some replacements for the things I can't put up. Overall, the things which matter to me most are in here, including the lady in my life now, who is coming over tonight to cook me dinner, even when I'm sick and grumpy and picky about what I eat (warning to her now), of which I am highly appreciative. I'm going to do something which I haven't done in some time, which is to end with a quote.

'Our lives teach us who we are.'
Salman Rushdie

Don

2006-03-22T15:02:00.000+08:00

Omg brandon chen junhao you just melted my heart. i love you. =)

Jinling

Learning to fly

2006-03-07T19:16:00.000+08:00

Absence makes the heart grow fond. When you're thousands of miles from home, on a dark, wintry night and after one hell of a sortie, you will wonder why you put yourself in such a position. Why did I sign on? Why do I want to fly? Is being a pilot really what I want? Such questions run through my mind during that time, and gradually I was losing the battle to fight on. I needed a familiar voice, who could listen to me gripe, who would tell me what is going on at home, who could just say, "It's alright." I gave her a call, and listening to her voice at the other end of a 3000 mile line, I found my little piece of heaven right there and then...

I sat quietly beside her, looking far beyond the rooftop to the docks in front of us. A gentle sea breeze blew, and our swing seemed to follow the swaying of the wind, the beat of our hearts. There wasn't much else to be said between us. I asked, she said yes, and that was that. That was all I needed, in that one moment. Her long hair stroking my face, my hand around her, the smell of her, all my senses were engaged, filled with her. That was my moment for eternity, the moment i said I loved her...

I held on tight to that moment, trying to feel again her warmth. The rain came down hard, and fast, and relentlessly. Lightning streaked across the dark night, illuminating the jungle which surrounded me. I was soaking wet, and trembling violently, and feeling so tired because sleep was being robbed from me by the rain, the 2nd night in a row. My shelter could not serve its purpose because the roof wasn't up yet, and left me exposed to the elements. My uniform was drenched, I could barely feel my extremities, and I was losing my will to fight on. The radio crackled, there was a lot of traffic even though it was 3 in the morning. Someone's structure collapsed, someone's area was flooding, someone was experiencing complications, someone needed help. Everyone wanted to go home. I was tempted to just call it a day, radio in and surrender. But I held on, because I knew she would have wanted me to. I gripped my rifle tighter, tucked it in close. I sensed her again, close to me, smelling her hair, touching her lips, and hearing her say she loved me. Tears ran down my cheeks, mixing with rain to become indistinguishable. I held on, because of her. Maybe this was true love, one that transcends all boundaries. A thousand miles away from home, in the middle of a tropical rainforest living up to its name, in the dark of night, soaked completely and trembling, hungry after days without food, I felt love. Her love.

Don

So the lady says

2006-03-01T00:47:00.000+08:00

The first time i saw him. the first guy hand i held for a friendship dance. little did i know that this would be the man whom i'd go through so much together with, for the next 3 years and counting...

A typical RI boy in my impression. quiet, intelligent, a gentleman. i was impressed, by the way he carried himself. i wanted to know him more. he drew me closer to him with time, but seemed to be holding a distance at times. for the year or so, i was confused. i couldn't make out our relationship. are we heading towards something more? or maintaining merely a friendship is what he wants? as our conversations grew longer over the phone, and as our 'outings' got more frequent, these thoughts began to haunt me, more frequently, more intensely.

Inevitably, a turning point of our relationship has to come. i began to realise that nothing is going to happen between us. that i shall let things be the way, i perceived, as he wants. merely friends. i became more receptive to the advances of others, and paid less attention to him. guess i was somehow... annoyed? tired? of the ambiguity of our relationship. somehow, i decided that i had enough. i wasn't to dwell on him anymore.

The Lady

Reminiscence

2006-01-26T20:18:00.000+08:00

I stood at the MRT station control, waiting for my friend who was late, again. 'He's closer to Yio Chu Kang MRT, and he's later than me. AND it's our first day of school, wtf.' I thought to myself. Watching the streams of multi-coloured uniforms passing me heading for AJC, I wondered if I was going to be late. Then i felt a tug behind me, Lau finally here. We made our way like mad dogs, not wanting to be late on our first day in school. Then she caught my eye, a gal in Cedar uniform, standing by the gate seemingly waiting for someone. I thot to myself, thank God i'm finally out of a boys school. Time to get to know more gals in JC, and smiled to the pretty gal in blue, who probably thot of me as a flirt...

...My luck couldn't be that great, could it? That gal by the gate, is in my OG? If I was going to be so lucky with gals, might as well juz wait for love to find me...

It’s been 3 months, a good 3 months. Life in JC was expectedly full of surprises, just a continuing wave of contradictions. In 3 months I found so many new friends, yet juz when we had got past the hellos, I had to say goodbye. In 3 months I found another life outside of the rat race of top schools, but now was leaving to join back something I loathed. In 3 months I found someone I liked, and now had to leave her before I could love. It was so impossible, seeing her on the 1st day, then having her in my OG, then totally not talking after that. I thot we couldn’t click, that there was no chance. Thank god she had a nephew with my name, it’s funny wad kind of topics can get people talking…

Somehow we kept in contact, something kept us talking. We went out once in a while, for a movie or just a meal. The late night MSN sessions continued, then progressed to calls which went on forever. We talked, or we just kept silent on the phone, content only to know someone else on the other side of the line was ready to listen to anything if we opened our mouths. The relationship lived a paradoxical existence, and seemed it would have to meet its inevitable end, an end which came all too suddenly. I wished her all the best with the guy, let her go. I told her it was alright, what we had wasn't love. I assured her we would still stay as friends. I lied. The calls ended, the outings stopped. Who cut who off? It didn't matter, the result was the same. We, was now you, and I. Alone.

to smelly

2006-01-09T12:25:00.000+08:00

Happy belated anniversary to mr smelly!

Thanks for all the bigsmall things that you've done for me...

Helping me move in and out... going shopping with me although you're obviously bored... sheltering me from the rain while getting yourself wet... popping by just to countdown with me... just being there wih me...

Sorry for showing you bad attitude at times... hope you'll still love me despite... hahas... thanks for putting up with me...

Heehees.

Loving you,
miss shot

amomentforeternity. hacked.

2006-01-05T16:13:00.000+08:00

This is no don. this is a hacker. muahahaha.

I can't continue your story cos my story doesn't start from here.=P you write more first lah.

Omg who's that pretty girl in blue?!? huh!!? *mumblemumbles

Love,
hacker

I'm a survivor

2005-12-08T20:28:00.000+08:00

Someone get that Runt of the litter to sing me his song. I managed to come back in more or less one piece from the jungle, perforated with bites but still alive.

E&E

2005-11-21T10:15:00.000+08:00

Off to a jungle somewhere out there, hopefully able to come back in one piece. And breathing. Let the rain pour, or the spar be ever elusive, let the road be long and the journey ardous, I will escape and evade, I will not lay down my arms or raise the white flag, I will never give up. All for you.

Don

TO SOMEONE SPECIAL

2005-11-08T21:04:00.000+08:00

Happy Anniversary.

Jarhead

2005-11-03T06:41:00.000+08:00

*Reville song plays in the background. Good morning one and all. Rise and shine! Just booked out from camp, what a way to spend a holiday, being holed up in the Duty Room staring at the wall...But it's ok, I had much entertainment and I was about to waste my day sleeping at home anyway.

Jarhead, cool movie. I am so going to catch this one with the guys, it's like BMT all over again. Except we'll be the one watching someone suffer in boot camp. Synopsis, real story of a Marine who goes through boot camp then goes to Iraq for Ops Desert Storm. The life of a soldier, the months of training, days of waiting, hours of boredom, minutes of unsurpassed excitement, and seconds of sheer terror. Wow, I might as well be an ad for the movie or something, but hey, I guess it's cool to see how my life looks like dramatised for the silver screen. Ok, so maybe not my life, but generally so.

It's been one year exactly since I started this little blog, and have been rereading my entries since day 1. How I have grown, from an idealistic schoolBOY, to kickass pilot...err, trainee. Hahaz, I never expected to take this path, but hey, people grow along the way, and things change. Like I said in my first post, change is truly the only constant. In one year in the army, I have learnt more, done more, than in my entire 12 years in schooling. I feel that the armed forces have given me something most will never have, a chance to do and dare, to be and bear. I love my job, and I thank God everyday for giving me a chance to be in the force which is above all.

Making pledges

2005-10-16T00:59:00.000+08:00

I admit I took my time to write this up, having not blogged for well over a month. I must try and at least keep up the schedule of updating my blog, and not be so lazy. Lots of stuff has happened between the last post and now, with certain milestones in my life having popped up in my life. I chiong Peng Kang sua, ate CS gas, CASEVACed, got initiated, switched to No.3, learnt stuff most people will never get to know, blew targets away estatically with my P226, and I guess the most important one of all is when I found a part of myself, in someone else. Life has never been better.

Sitting here writing this up in my wing line, I guess it's a blessing in itself. The SAF is evolving, and I think I'm in the force which will see this transformation first. To all those in NS and who cannot imagine the SAF to be nothing more than wayang, I challenge you to sign on and find out more, because there is so much more.

Happy Birthday to the various people who are having theirs this month, including my mum and sis. A year older, but also a year wiser, or so I hope. Some people just don't grow up, and though sometimes that may be a good thing, most times it just makes you backward, lost in a world which has gone on without you. Let's hope 'forward looking' becomes a mainstay in the vocabulary of more people around the world.

A blog without a point, but hey something is better than nothing. When I'm a bit more awake and sane, maybe I'll put in a more substantial entry. Till then, let fly yourself, don't hold back. You never know what heights you can reach...

Don

Like Nothing on Earth

2005-09-12T21:39:00.000+08:00

My next ride in the sky, looks kinda cool. At least I no longer have to suffer the torque and mannerisms of a single prop aircraft anymore, I hope. Yes, the SIAI Marchetti S211, a jet aircraft built for "anti-insurgency operations" and more importantly, as a trainer jet for people learning the ropes of flying (aka me). It's an aging beauty, soon to be retired and replaced by another trainer aircraft, but hey, I'm thankful for small graces, being the last few batches to fly a jet for basic wing course.

Met up wif Lingli and John and all her pals for her birthday cum farewell party, seems I'm not gonna be the only one doing all the flying. To my co-OGL, best of luck in London, and here's hoping you can navigate safely with my gift. I'll be there to send ya off, even if it means I gotta make the long trip there and back at 3am in the morning...

It's just one day after the 4th anniversary of 9/11, feels like a long time already since I got glued to the TV set that night, seeing all the death and destruction. I went to bed that night, thinking what I could do in such a situation. And I felt helpless, even when I was half a world away from where it happened, there was nothing I could think of doing. Guess that is when it hit me, that the only way to respond to such a terror attack, is to prevent it, and maybe that was my impetus for wanting to join the armed forces. Put those terrorists where they belong, not in a commercial jet airliner, but in a hole deep enough they can hear the devil call their name.

The RSAF new line in their TV ads, a force like nothing on Earth, I truly hope we can live up to that motto. It's the only way we can stop those who threaten me and those I love, by an unprecedented action that they will never expect, giving them back the nasty surprise they first threw on us. By giving them 1 X GOOD ONE, like nothing on Earth.

Picture says it all

2005-09-04T16:09:00.000+08:00

CAVOK

2005-08-28T02:39:00.001+08:00

WARNING, OBNOXIOUSLY LONG ENTRY.

Ok, now that I have warned you already, I shall go ahead and let off 6 weeks worth of rants and raves. So much has happened it's hard to remember where it all started, so maybe it's better to just go in dribs and drabs of information. I've been training overseas, and it's been quite a long month. Now I know what it means to miss home, every smell and sight and sound and touch. And especially taste, goodness gracious you won't know what hell it is for a Singaporean not to have the assortment of food we have here. Char Kuay Teow, Bak Kut Teh, Nasi Lemak, ROTI PRATA, I miss you!

And then there are the long and lonely nights, when you just miss the voices of those you love. I feel that my 170 dollar phone bill is worth every cent, considering how just listening to those I love back home when overseas is such a precious thing. To all friends and family, you kept me going when I thought there was nothing left in me. In aviation terms, you were the wind beneath my wings, that kept me flying.

Flying is an experience that really help me see who I am, it puts you in a situation where how well you do depends on how much you ask of yourself, and the rest was just up to how good you are. Anyone can fly a plane, but it takes grit and natural talent to be a pilot. Seeing how naturally my instructors took to flying made me envious, flying seemed as easy as breathing to them. Of course they have the advantage of thousands of hours of experience, but I think it was more of an innate ability then anything else. To be able to control a plane, watching for aircraft all around, handle 20+ instruments and watching gauges and pushing the right switches at the right time, navigate the area, AND still enjoy doing all these, it takes a superhuman. I enjoyed flying, but am still a bit wonky on multi-tasking.

I have to thank all the instructors who took me, for being the devil in the plane, taking me apart on the smallest of mistakes, shooting my ego to pieces, and generally giving me 1 x good one in the air. Without all of you, I don't think I'll ever keep a plane safely in the sky, let alone keep my country's skies safe. Despite how ruthlessly I was clamped down on in the air, I thank all QFIs, you taught me what it means to be a pilot, and more importantly, all of you let me discover what I truly loved to do, something I loved so much I was willing to 'tahan' everything you could throw at me and still want to go up again. I may never be as great a pilot as any of you, being only a 'justifiable training risk', I sure as hell will give it everything I have.

To 0805, it's been a pleasure to fly with all of you. Thanks for all the movie nights, the morning ops briefs, the minesweeper matches, the walks down Peel St. , the $8 pizzas, the guniang soccer games, the EODD 'tips', the callsigns (Black Lips, Harry, Chui chui, CB Lips, Room, Countryman, Grago, Wings Already, 07.505, Magneto, Stupid, etc.). The memories. Special mention to the 'Cold 4', every Friday we were out on a balcony sipping Carlton's or Coronas and paying tribute to Philip Morris with our lighthouses. I would gladly freeze my butt off any day to sit with all of you anytime again, to drink myself silly till I get liver cirrhosis and smoke till my lungs fill with tar. Cigarettes and alcohol, forever.

A quote, about flying, from none other than the father(s) of modern aviation

More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination.
— Wilbur Wright

My fellow aviators will know what CAVOK means, but here's to all who don't. It basically means great weather to fly in, and that describes my life now. Perfect.

Don

Trying hard to stay in the air

2005-08-14T18:03:00.000+08:00

It's been some time since i last updated, but it's also been some time since i've been allowed near a computer too. Been busy here trying to stay up in the air, flying's quite a handful/headful. Never knew it was so tough just to keep a plane in the air, and starting to see that being a pilot means having more than a hotshot attitude and perfect eyesight.

I try my best on the ground preparing as much as i can, but like i said to many before, it's simply different when you're in the air. I have only started to be able to manage some semblance of flying, still making mistakes in some basic points of flying, and they're already teaching more advanced stuff, wondering how i can ever catch up to this pace. But like the instructors say, i try my best, they do the rest. if i can't make the cut, then i guess i wasn't made out to be a military aviator in the first place.

Missing everyone at home and all my friends, but i should be wrapping up soon here, as a pilot or not. Here's a lil shout to all the scouts and councillors and frenz, gd luck in all that ur doing, meet u soon.

Don

Not goodbye, just see you later

2005-07-12T00:27:00.000+08:00

Just came back from the airport, sent off a classmate leaving for Australia. It was kind of like rojak, with her friends from secondary school, JC, church and CCA, plus her family to see her off. I guess it was very emotional for her, seeing so many people who cared about her all together seeing her off, and makes it all that much harder to drag oneself to the check-in counter, and bid everyone goodbye just one more time. So here's to you April, for being so brave to leave the only world you know for another, and best of luck in Melbourne.

I'm probably not going to reenact that scene on Monday, a quick goodbye suffices for me. Plus, I'm only gone a month or two, think I can live through that without saying so many goodbyes. And, I don't think I'll be able to survive seeing so many people who know me together in one place, think cardiac arrest would make me depart this world earlier than I could make it to my plane.

We always say goodbye thinking we'll never meet someone again, like that last chance we have to see each other is right there and then. I think we take too lightly the power of coincidence, and since Singapore is such a small place, bumping into each other is almost an inevitability. I think I'll make this promise out to anyone who I treasure most, that the next time we're leaving each other, I won't say goodbye. I'll say, "I will see you again, soon." That's a promise, on my honour.

Your brother in scouting,
Don

Why I look like a tree

2005-07-04T23:36:00.000+08:00

It's been some time since I felt like how I did today, that sense of clarity over why I have chosen my path as so. And of all the people to make me feel so special, you could not possibly guess who. A child, not more than 4 years of age, made me feel whole again today.

He's the son of my dad's friend, a little bundle of chaos. Running all over the place and screaming at the top of his lungs, hyperactive like any other kid his age. And then he saw me, in my No.4, with a military buzzcut, and the standard "mess with me and you'll know what's pain" look on my face. Catching him in the corner of my eye, I tried to salvage my image which had most probably seared itself into his young mind, with a smile. He took off for his mother's arms, all ready to burst into tears...

Curiously though, he didn't erupt into a pool of tears, but just kept staring at me, in the safety of his mother's arms nonetheless. And then came the torrent of questions which any toddler unleashes on his parent when he's in doubt.

'Why does that kor kor (Hokkien for brother) look like a tree?'
'He's a soldier, that's his uniform. Like your school uniform liddat, just that his have to help him hide.'
'Who he hide from? Teacher?'
'No lah, from bad men who want to hurt him, and us.'
'What does a soldier do mummy?'
'...To protect you, and mummy and daddy, and our country.'
'Why?'
'Because bad men will hurt us if he doesn't protect us.'
'Why?'
'They're bad men, they only do bad things remember?'
'Ohh, but daddy says bad men hurt people, kor kor not afraid meh?'
'I bet he is, but he loves us more than he afraid of bad men. That right Brandon?'

I give a nod, and just smile.

'Mummy, can I be a soldier when I grow up?'
'Why you want to be? Uniform very nice izzit?'
'No, because I want to show you how much I love you and daddy. I love you very much mummy.'

It's one of those picture perfect moments, the mum totally astonished by what her little kid has just said. As for me, I just smiled, which was totally spoiling my camouflage. After all, a tree doesn't have teeth does it?

Happy Independence Day, and let us all remember those who sacrifice themselves upon the altar of freedom, so that we may live to see another kid learn not only how to camouflage effectively, but also what it means to love someone.

Don

Time will tell

2005-06-26T02:28:00.000+08:00

It's going to be another 3 weeks or so before I leave for airgrading, guess that leaves me with what mog describes as the "long goodbye". Maybe I shouldn't be so sentimental about the departure, it is only going to be a month away for me. But I can't help but feel the finality of it. And what the trip entails, like the rest of my life, just makes me feel more apprehensive about it.

I used to dream about flying in a jet, ala Top Gun and all the cool fighter jet shows of the 90s. And seeing those space shuttle launches made me even more starry eyed, wondering if I'd ever get the chance to fly and then soar to the heavens. It's those dreams that make me who I am today, a pilot trainee now drumming his fingers in anticipation of the coming test, whether I get to be a fighter pilot and maybe even more.

But like I told those interviewers at Air Force recruitment, I grew up, and now I wonder how much of that starry eyed boy I still have in me. In the years of RI and RJC, I saw how much was needed to be done on the ground, and my wings fall away. I saw the need for 'boots on the ground' in so many situations, where all people needed for some hope was the soldier who was willing to put his live on the line for others. I felt selfish, to dream of being able to fly, without giving this same hope to children who could not ensure their own life beyond their next meal. Wearing a blue beret and enforcing order in chaos seemed a right thing to me then, even now.

Which leaves me in my dilemma now, which do I hold more dear? I need to give my best, but which one demands my effort? It's a feeling one should never have to feel, being torn over what to love more. I guess only time will tell me the answer. Sooner or later. Time will tell.

Don

Leaving for a jet plane

2005-06-19T22:00:00.000+08:00

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

I'm ...

There's so many times I've let you down
So many times I've played around
I'll tell you now, they don't mean a thing

Every place I go, I think of you
Every song I sing, I sing for you
When I come back I'll wear your wedding ring

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time, oh, let me kiss you
And close your eyes and I'll be on my way

Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times that I won't have to say ...

Oh, kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

And I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

But I'm leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
(Ah ah ah ah)
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
Leaving on a jet plane
(Leaving) On a jet plane

And it's confirmed, I'm in the Air Force as of Friday. Flying off soon, to begin my training and hopefully be selected to stay on. It's funny, how I was always waiting for this to drop on my lap, to get out of commandos, but now, when I get it, it feels like the shit has hit the fan. I am going to miss my buddies with the red berets. I'm going to miss those 10km morning runs. I'm going to miss the field. Ok, everything about the field but the rations...

Never thought about who will send me off, it feels awkward to say goodbye. At least for me, I never was one of those who could handle farewells well...I hope it's a flight at 2am or something, save me the fuss of having to say goodbye and blow kisses off and looking back over the shoulder. Just drag the duffel bag along, board the plane and look forward to sunrise on the coast down under.

Life is rolling on faster. I hope I can catch up. Afterburners on, let's go all ahead full.

Don

Initiate rapid environmental restructuring, commandos...

2005-06-04T00:59:00.000+08:00

Should be quite obvious I'm trying to make some new designs on this blog, but still very much a work in progress here, so bear with me. I don't have the luxury of this weekend to make the necessary changes, got to serve my nation by protecting it's "key installations".

They make it sound so nice, don't they? Key Installations Protection Force. Wow, wayang to the n-th degree. I'm most probably doing duty because someone in the camp doesn't like our singing or does not appreciate the amount of pride we have in our unit. Correction, amount of pride I have in my unit. I hardly see any of the other 'brothers-in-arms' around me feeling that swell in their throats and that tear in the eye when they see a red beret or hear the word 'commando'. It's a shame, the best combat unit and we have people who aren't inspired even to maintain minimum standards.

I love the army. Or at least I want to, though it is hardly giving me a chance to. The calibre of people I interact with, their level of faith and commitment makes me pause as to whether I am putting my hopes and dreams in the wrong place. My experiences continue to drain me, I feel stuck and plain disappointed. Lost.

Maybe that's not the word to use. A scout is never lost. Just temporarily disorientated. Here's to hoping I find my bearings soon, maybe today as I prowl the camp and keep it safe from terrorists who plan to initiate their own "rapid environmental restructuring" aka demolitions on my camp. Have many hours of soul-searching and intruder hunting to do, so I'm signing off.

Auspicium Melioris Aevi, truly.
Don

Where Heaven Lies

2005-05-08T03:03:00.000+08:00

"Be without fear in the face of your enemies.
Be brave and upright that God may love thee.
Speak the truth always even if it leads to your death.
Safeguard the helpless and do no wrong.

That is your oath."

Just got back from watching Kingdom of Heaven, quite a movie I have to say. It is a bit draggy in some parts, and seems a bit decapitated at certain portions, but overall the package comes across largely as a success. And I guess part of the success comes from the fact that is has only a simple message to bring across, the danger of religious fervour but more importantly, where heaven lies.

It's so blindingly obvious I guess people tend to miss it nowadays. The whole movie revolves around the Christians and Muslims fighting over stones and walls in the desert, their "Kingdom of Heaven", Jerusalem. But I guess we forget, that heaven lies within us, and as pointed out in the movie, "What God desires" is but our mind and heart. Nothing depicted this endless war between religions than the scene where both armies clash in a narrow breach in the walls of Jerusalem, both sides unable to gain any ground but still losing men by the hundreds. Do we love God by hating each other? Do we find peace and solace by waging war? Do we get our own "Kingdom of Heaven", only by wracking hell on Earth?

Everyone who loves God should take the time to consider, do we need religion to tell us how to love God?

"Holiness is in right action, and courage on behalf of those who cannot defend themselves."

One of the quotes from the movie which I find thought-provoking. Perhaps if we opened ourselves more, and let in the light, we will truly find where heaven lies. Within each and everyone of us.

Don

Serenity

2005-05-01T00:55:00.000+08:00

Take my love.
Take my land.
Take me where I cannot stand.
I don’t care, I’m still free.
You can’t take the sky from me.

Take me out
to the black.
Tell ‘em I ain’t comin’ back.
Burn the land and boil the sea.
You can’t take the sky from me.

Have no place
I can be
Since I found Serenity.
But you can’t take the sky from me.

"Ballad of Serenity" - Theme from TV series, Firefly

Ok, so this may seem like I'm promoting the movie shamelessly. I am. It's one of those witty shows with humour that requires some grey matter so you can actually catch the plot, and I hope anyone with half a functioning brain will take the time to catch Serenity when it comes out really much later in the year, and rescue a dying genre of movies, sci fi-western ( yeah you heard me right, Joss Whedon actually managed to put two different genres together ).

It's a pretty twisted sort of future that the writer creates, but I'll try and string it as best as I can. Earth depleted, we colonize many planets, some want to remain independent, but a core group decide to form the Alliance and stamp out the independents. Think American Civil War, and the Union wins again, and our main character is a Confederate ( called Indepedents in the movie ) soldier who moves on from the defeat in his own ship, the Serenity, to do odd jobs and simply stay alive. He's a rebel who has seen his cause shot to pieces, but decides to live on.

Looking at life from the losing side, I guess that's what the show manages to present. History is written by the winners, so therefore history tramples on those who lose. The Confederates were slave-owners who wanted to keep their black men and women under their chains of subjugation, and the Union freed these slaves. That's the version we are taught, but what happens if the USA was the CSA instead? I guess the Confederate states would look more kindly on the benefits of slave ownership, and the rest of the world would have agreed. Case in point, history is all about interpretation, and should be never taken as truth. History contains many facts, but they support different truths, and politicising history (hint hint China and Japan), will only lead to the one thing which history loves to do. Repeat itself.

Then there's another lesson which I derive. No matter how deep you are in shit, finding no way to climb out of a seemingly bottomless pit of lost hope, or simply wandering and trying to find purpose in life, don't give yourself a discount and find the tallest building around to jump off. Climb that tallest building, seek serenity, and you will find direction. I think I have met with several dead ends in my life, whether it was during my Sec 3 life or post A-Levels, I had moments to simply sit down and think things through quietly, either in a chalet up in Malaysia or on an army bunk somewhere in Singapore, and found myself again. The key component is serenity, that peace of mind so you can re-evaluate what has meant a lot in your life, and what will keep you breathing past that low point in your existence.

Live for something rather than die for nothing.
- George S. Patton

We all have our dreams, but let us not follow them into oblivion. If they die, then so be it, let life give us another path to follow. After all, many paths still lead to the same end. We all die, just let us find the longest, most fulfilling path to walk.

Don

The world, from 1000 feet

2005-04-17T01:46:00.000+08:00

Two words. Sensory overload. There's no other way to describe my first jump out of an airplane flying at 1000 feet, with so many things happening at the same time, it's hard to catch everything that happened, and savour each moment to its last detail. I guess the most tense moment was when you are still in the plane, doing the final checks before going out the door. Then the command to stand in the door comes, and you know you have about 10 seconds. But guess what, my detail was already over the DZ, and as the first jumper just got to the door, he was given the green light. "Green on, GO!" With a shocked expression permanantly plastered on his face, he was shoved right off the aircraft. "GO, GO, GO..." 1 second, 1 jumper out the door, and before I knew it, out I went. "BLAM!" The slipstream hits me pushing me to face the rear, and I saw the tail of the aircraft for about a microsecond, and the canopy of the jumper before me deploys. Falling yet still moving, I felt weightless till I was suddenly jerked back by my own canopy deploying. Checked my canopy, and then did my observation of the immediate area. I guess the beauty of the world at 1000 feet didn't come through to me then, but the more I reflected upon that moment, seeing the mental picture more clearly, it dawns on me how miniscule we are in this large world. Floating around at 1000 feet, feeling no earth beneath the soles of my boots, I felt so small, insignificant. And it was only 1000 feet.

The landing was horrid, as I literally went splat all over the runway. The impact just took the wind out of me, and if not for my training, I think all I would have done was lie on that runway and wallow in my pain. PJIs always taught us to land like a bag of potatos, rolling with the fall and distributing the energy around the body. But that day, all I could think of my landing was, well, mashed potato.

And that was the beginning of my week. Rest of it was tough training after another, and today, SMU interview and 01 Campfire. Went for the interview expecting to answer questions, but never expected to answer some questions of my own in the process. My little chat with the professors allowed me to gain an insight on why I take so much punishment nowadays and still live with it. "Endurement" as my sergeant puts it, stems from an innate desire not to let anyone down. Or put simply, I have a very big problem with losing face, and will do whatever it takes, even if it kills me. Maybe it's a Chinese thing.

Talking about Chinese, it's hard to miss the patriot games China and Japan are playing now. I found out about even while I was in camp, and that just shows the level of security concerns it raises. Chaos Theory anyone? Every small random event, seemingly unrelated and no one pays attention to. Then they grow, multiply. And then they rear their ugly heads, show their razor sharp teeth, and take a big bite out of the peace we have built. No one believes this will lead to war, not the angry young men protesting on the streets nor the officials on top who sit quietly and allow the protests to grow out of hand. I wonder how long a fuse this crisis between Japan and China has. Unless definite steps are taken to not only repair relations, but also to curb brinksmanship on both sides ( like taking all their ultra-nationalists out and putting one round square between their eyes), we're looking at a conflict which will shake the very foundations of this world. It took Europe two world wars to realise the dangers of nationalism and the necessity of union, forming inter-state organisations like the EU. I hope we don't need the same reminder to chuck aside our differences and just learn to live with each other, instead of throwing missiles and troops at each other.

Poring through the rest of the week's papers in order to prepare for my interview ( which resembled coffeeshop chatter, and totally wasted my effort in digesting a week's worth of news ), I found out more about the casino debate, the Pope, Ganga and Jamuna, and a most interesting perspective on the Terri Schiavo case. The fiasco surrounding her passing arose because no one seemed to respect the will to die, going away gracefully instead of stirring up a hornet's nest. Singapore has the AMD to allow anyone the right to pull the plug on himself/herself in terminal illnesses where continued treatment would most certainly be in vain, and the person would remain in a comatose state without the ability to say "Let me go". But the author argues for the will to live, where he states that if we had the same amount of conviction in dying peacefully put into living well, life would be so much the better. Summed up, life is a terminal disease, don't waste time bothering when the end comes, direct that energy into making the black-caped fella with a scythe regret putting you 6 feet under.

I come back from my first live descent somewhat changed I guess. Maybe everyone should be given the chance to be thrown off an aircraft at 1000 feet, then they'll see the world differently. A world where people are smaller than ants, and our daily concerns even more miniscule. A world where colour or religion or ethnicity or seniority or rank or class or simple differences don't matter, because the parachute doesn't care who the hell you are, it either deploys, or it doesn't based on pure circumstance. A world where you can truly see everything, and let the horizon surround you for about 30 seconds. A world without fear of death, because you'll be too busy living each and every last second in the air.

That's the world, from 1000 feet.

Sticks in the wind

2005-03-27T00:39:00.000+08:00

Just came back from dinner with a few friends, including a primary school friend whom I have not met for years. How time flies, and as it does, how it changes all we once knew to be cast iron reality, to something familiar yet totally different.

Once, I was idealistic, looking through rose-tinted glasses and ready to challenge the world. Once, I was driven, wanting to climb every ladder I came upon, determined to reach the top and be the best. Once, I had faith, that things would turn out right on their own in due course, and God would make sure of that.

Once, I was young. And how I've grown, matured, experienced what 19 years of life can throw at a person. Meeting up with an old friend, and seeing her cynicism at the system and life in general, I saw myself for a moment. She was so sure about getting that scholarship, sure she could score that A, that distinction, sure she would be the next success story based purely on her ability and drive. However, life has a way of taking away those things that seem to matter most to you, leaving you with what seems to be nothing. However it is only life's way of showing you something which matters more.

My friend may not have gotten those grades, that scholarship, but she has gained something more. The experience of such failure to attain her goals, only teaches one to accept and move on. With her type of drive and passion, I think she will go far in life, much farther than if she were bonded and stuck in a civil service job and led down a path which others have laid for her. She's a runaway locomotive, looking for tracks to guide her to the next stop.

Why do I see myself in her example? I have failed too and failure has shown me what matters more. Only difference being I'm already at the door, and looking at the DZ, ready to jump and knowing where to land. I may be disillusioned at times, not being able to see my objective which may be covered by clouds of self-doubt. I may be blown off course by the winds of necessity, when change will force me to alter my course. But the dream of being able to reach out and touch someone and give hope to those who feel they are forsaken, to "protect the weak, spur the faint-hearted, curb the unruly..." (If the 01 Oath of Responsibility becomes a guiding principle in our lives, the world will be a better place), will be my personal compass, that true North which will never shift, and which will put me on the path to my DZ.

"Sticks in the wind" is a signal given to airborne troops to jump, taking that leap into the wild blue, stepping off the only solid ground, the only reality we have known, putting all we have to gamble that the chute will open, that the wind wouldn't be too strong, that cloud cover won't be too heavy on that day, that the DZ is still within range. Taking that step out the plane, putting all we have on the line for that one chance to reach our goal, may seem too much to lose. But hey, how can one ever hope to fly without being prepared to take a fall first?

Give me the green light, I won't freeze at the door.

Don

Charlie Mike

2005-03-13T00:07:00.000+08:00

Charlie Mike, or CM, or in military lingo, Carry on Mission. It means that an objective has not been met, but that the mission has to carry on anyway. Two weeks passed again, but what an eventful two weeks it has been. No longer is the A level results looming over my head, and the prospect of not passing out a threat hanging over me. I got my results, and I'm now a private.

But, there's a reason that I'm doing a Charlie Mike. Results weren't great, B, B, C, C and a disappointing B4 for GP. Definitely takes scholarships out of my grasp, and at first when receiving the results, that overwhelming sense of disappointment in not meeting expectations hit me. That same night, after receiving my results, I had to book in back to camp after again, failing on that same morning my Standard Obstacle Course by a timing of 10:48, 18 seconds too late, despite the best run of my life at the end. 4 March 2005, will remain as the lowest point in my life for quite some time.

Booking in at 1930, Sergeant gave me a quizzical look. The time to book in was 2100, I was way too early and recruits NEVER book in so early. But when he found out it was due to results, all he gave was an understanding look on his face, and these three words of wisdom. Life goes on. I got into an empty bunk, dumped my stuff one corner, got on my bed and stared at the whirring fan right above me.

Life never stood still until that moment. My mind just kept flashing back to the moment I picked up that result slip, and staring at it blankly. The pain of receiving the dismal results repeated itself, over and over again, each time piercing harder into me. My thoughts seemed so fixated on that moment, that it stopped time itself. I was so deep in depression if anyone read my diary entry on that day, they would probably think I was already doing my airborne course, without a parachute. I went as far as writing a last letter, the type which family and friends receive posthumously. Then, the whirring of the fans caught my eye. They kept moving, were moving all the time, and will continue to move. In a half-depressed. mostly maniacal mood, my interpretation of the fans moving was this.

Life goes on.

Despite what happens, when the shit hits the fan or when you're in a bed of roses, time still continues. And if there's one thing I picked up in 9 weeks of being a commando trainee, it's that when you feel drained or stumble and fall, you pick yourself up and move on. Every moment you may feel like you're dying, or that you cannot continue anymore, you remind yourself of one thing. You're not dead yet, and while you're still alive and can will yourself to stand on your own two feet, you keep moving until those legs give in, not when your mind wants to give up.

I accept defeat, but not surrender. It's in my character now, and soon I hope I can imprint that on my genetic code as well. The results may suck a whole lot, but it's over and I can't afford to sit down and moan about it. Maybe it's a blessing in disguise, allowing me to focus more on my mission in life, rather than trying to climb the ladder. My sights are now set on signing on, and doing well enough to qualify me for an overseas mission, and for this, I accept nothing but success.

Passing out today, I have moved out of a phase in life. No longer am I watching the front and waiting. No longer sitting in a foxhole, waiting. I'm out, charging into the future, and giving it the best run i can. It's all, and nothing not accepted.

In "The Last Samurai", just before they move in for a suicidal frontal charge, a "Pickett Charge" against a superior force, someone asked "Do you believe a man can change his destiny?"

The reply? "I believe a man does what he can, until his destiny is revealed." Life is just like that, a charge into an end, which we do not see yet. But it's not about the end that matters. It's the journey, and I'm walking it the way I feel is best. I may be breathing hard, feeling the weight on my shoulders, and the sweat trickling down my face. I may stumble, may even fall. But I'm determined to do one thing. Charlie Mike.

Don

Watch Your Front

2005-02-27T04:51:00.000+08:00

It's been a long two weeks, spending a majority of it in the field. I'm totally burned out now, just came home from a gathering of my detachment. Few of us only, the others being totally off the bola and really not giving a shit about meeting up. "We see each other 7 days a week anyway." being the common line. Oh, and so is "My OC is a liar", "insert any imaginable line of complaint about life in the field". I don't get it, is kao bei so enjoyable? Must we be totally hypocritical and complain about everything under the sun, wait, everything including the sun? Everyone complains about the hot weather, then drinks up more then 12 litres of water everyday and pisses it all away all over the damn forest like water was free and easily available, forgetting that someone always had to fill all 100 jerry cans a few times a day. Everyone gets heat rash or abrasion, but don't give a damn about powdering down before sleeping, choosing to just plop down and go off to dreamland. Everyone gets cuts and bruises, but all act like babies and run to the medic expecting a quick fix-me-up all the time. Well guess what mother sons, you're in the army now. FORGET about living a comfortable, cushy life. YOU'RE a recruit, life is SUPPOSED to be tough. FIELD CAMP IS NOT A WALK IN THE PARK, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO EAT SOME SHIT, AND SWALLOW WITHOUT ASKING WHY.

I came into army expecting to come out a better person, I don't know what the rest of the company expected, but it seems more and more like they were expecting to be pampered. "3G army, where we get the gain without the pain." I think someone forgot what it meant to be a soldier. We sing the songs, to defend our land and our people with our lives, but don't mean it. They forget what it means to be an army, what it means to fight for what you stand for. Complacency has set in, and the "disease in the SAF" which my senior officers love to repeat is slowly eating away at the "thinking soldier", who thinks more of his own personal welfare and safety then the security of our nation, who wants to chao keng, run away, escape.

Retreat.

I fear what happens when the button is pressed, when push comes to shove, and Singapore has to stare an enemy in the eye. How many will hold the line? I know the regulars would, they understand the importance of what they have to do. But what about those whom we need to count on most, the man on the street? When that mobilization notice flashes, will he answer? From what I see, the picture ain't pretty. I hope that older generations, those who understand the value of our defensive force, do their part, because it seems the younger generation seem only interested in reaping without sowing.

I want to do my part in the army, but now that all depends on what comes out on 7th March, the release of my A level results. I'm sure of my role in the army, in wanting to correct the 'disease' any way I can, and also to protect all that I love and cherish. The senior officers in our company, some of them having spent more than 20 years in the army, pass on their experience but more importantly, their fervour in maintaining Singapore the way they got it when they were recruits. A place of opportunity, safe and secure, and always ready to adapt to the next coming age.

I stand at the crossroads now, one week before A levels, two weeks before passing out, the future of my life to be revealed in the time ahead. In two weeks, I will know where to go. But for now, I can only do one thing. Be ready, and watch my front.

Don

Into the darkness

2005-02-13T00:30:00.000+08:00

Another short break before heading in again, this time for a longer haul. Booking in to field camp tonight, going over for a little adventure on another island. Not sure what to expect out in the field, but if it's anything close to scouting, then I think I'm in for a ride.

It seems to have become an endless cycle, this ritual of booking in and out. I don't know if it's fatigue or just plain boredom, but I'm starting to get the numbness, feeling an emotional desert when I book in and out. There doesn't seem to be anything to look forward to whether in or out of camp, just the same old cycle. I hope something comes along to break up the routine, it's starting to get to me, and paying the Institute of Mental Health a visit isn't exactly something I want on my calender.

Range and the idea of live rounds does give a kick, albeit a small one. I know all about the shitty feeling one gets when you stay too long out in the field, and that is going to be a major obstacle for everyone to overcome once we're out there. Range and grenades only serve as a temporary distraction, there's got to be more to keep one sane out there. Maybe the stars.

I forget, when was the last time I just looked up and appreciated the night sky. Seems like forever, but I vaguely recall looking up one night in camp, when all was dark and quiet, and the stars spanned the entire night sky. I had a dream, once so long ago, just to reach out and touch the stars. That childhood desire to reach to the heavens, be an astronaut, explore new worlds, wear cool-looking EVA suits and make Darth-Vader breathing noises. That dream faded, as did childhood and those younger times. Like I said to the Air Force interviewer who asked me what happened to my childhood dream to fly. "I'm no longer a child." But growing up, have I started to dream bigger dreams, or let reality shape those dreams smaller?

That final frontier, can we hope to explore it? In a world so troubled by strife and suffering, where even the human capacity for compassion and empathy seems limited, is the human desire to explore the unknown a valid one? A necessary one?

"Mankind is led into the darkness beyond our world by the inspiration of discovery, and the longing to understand"
-President Bush, Address to the nation on the loss of Space Shuttle Columbia

I dream the old dream.

From Zero to Hero

2005-02-09T22:44:00.000+08:00

A hero. What does it take to become one? Doing the courageous thing? Daring to live your dream? Or the classic Black Hawk Down definition, "Nobody asks to be a hero. It just turns out that way." Like the guy in the picture, a lieutenant who flew into the hornet's nest, saw that some troops on the ground needed his help, and went in to knock out a couple of Japanese Zeroes. He flew to the rescue, twice, each time putting his life on the line, so that some other person could get away with his.

I'm seeing my inspiration in my own sergeant. He is truly the professional soldier, taking his job seriously and our training even more seriously. He's been to Iraq as part of Singapore's contribution to the reconstruction effort there. He has pride in his work, and takes the time and effort he deems necessary to get stuff done, right. Too bad we only get him for the first 3 months, and I'm probably shipping out anyway to be like Lieutenant Hanson.

I wonder if I'm truly ready to start the next phase of my life, ending years of study to exchange for another life, to be a pilot or a professional soldier. I'm sure about signing on, much to my parent's discomfort, because I believe in the mission of the SAF as not only to protect Singapore, but also as an extension of its diplomatic arm. Send me anywhere I need to be to make a difference, I don't want to be cooped in an office cubicle, like my sergeant likes to put it. I guess it's just a bit overwhelming to decide the rest of your life on a single form, signing off 12 years of my life to the armed forces. But it's been done by so many before me, and if I heard correctly, by too many these few years. Hope I get my chance to fly the Rafale / Eurofighter / Apache, top of the line. I don't mind being a high class taxi driver or lorry driver, but given a chance, I rather be thrown in a fighter and just set loose.

Heard the State of the Union a few mornings back, when the fever bug caught me and didn't let go. The ending of the speech caught me, political theatrics and all, "Each age is a dream that is dying, or one that is coming to birth. And we live in the country where the biggest dreams are born. The abolition of slavery was only a dream - until it was fulfilled. The liberation of Europe from fascism was only a dream - until it was achieved. The fall of imperial communism was only a dream - until, one day, it was accomplished. Our generation has dreams of its own, and we also go forward with confidence." I don't see my life as an age which is passing, I'm not that important, but what Bush has to say seems to have parallels to each person's life. One stage of life passes, no more schooling, but as it dies, another stage takes over, new dreams and aspirations. Will I grow out of this period, when the dream of making a difference dies out, replaced by other priorities like finding love or settling down, or will this dream grow on me?

I'm going to live my dream, but hey, it's not for me to decide where it takes me. It just turns out that way.

Don

On the ball

2005-01-23T14:08:00.000+08:00

It's been two weeks since I enlisted, and I'm back for the weekend. Time passes quickly inside, the routine keeps one going, at least some form of predictability in life. Training is tough, but manageable still. I think they'll up the tempo and severity now, since the adjustment period is over, and they get free rein to do anything they wish now. I want to get a book before I go in, but have no idea what to get. There usually is enough free time for one to read, during the night when I have no calls to make. All those in my detachment seem to be attached, leaving me to quietly while away my time between 2130 and 2200. I don't see it as a curse, some quiet reflection time is usually good, and getting ready for the next day usually fills this period which I have at night. But I guess it's just envy on my part, seeing all the other guys having someone they can talk to, and have someone listen to them.

Just managed to pick up bits of pieces of news while I'm out. Taupok, Meulaboh, Presidential Inaugaration, all these things have happened as I stayed in the time capsule that is my base. The world speeds by while I do crunches and pull ups (or attempt to). Subscribed to Time magazine, hope that can keep me up to date from week to week. The SAF really is doing a good job in Aceh, seeing from the picture above how they mix with the locals. The peacetime SAF really is showing itself to be worthy of 6% of Singapore's GDP. I wonder if I'll get my chance to do some work like that as well. As a recruit, I guess my job now is just to get my basics right, learn as much as possible, and prepare to deploy when I'm ready.

Watched Hotel Rwanda on Friday, can't say it was really that moving, I guess because I read up on all the statistics and the news coverage, and the fact that the film was sanitised, made it less impactful. The scouts I watched with seemed surprised, like they never heard of the incident. Maybe when we were in primary school, such things never stuck in our minds. I faintly recall the "Rwandan Massacre" when I was in Primary 2 or 3, and if not for my history lessons on the failure of the UN, I probably would be as ignorant as others. Like the reporter said in the show, "People are going to watch this genocide on their TVs over dinner, they're going to say 'Oh my god, those poor people'. Then they're going to continue eating their dinner."

It really seems so true, that the colour of our skin really matters. The only reason why the Western world even bothers with aiding in the tsunami is because white people in Phuket and Sri Lanka were involved. I don't recall the same amount of effort being spared to help those in the Iran Bam earthquake last year, or the Sudan crisis. I don't know how long it will take to realise that despite the colour of our skin, or the choice of our faiths, we are all still human. Maybe the next Ice Age.

I guess I'll have to try my best, sort the world out one person at a time. That's how miracles start, one small step at a time, and with determination to carry the task through, staying on the ball and sticking with it all the way, we'll make it. Like my former RJ principal once said, "The impossible we do now. Miracles, take a little longer."

Don

Under Section 11 of the Enlistment Act...

2005-01-06T23:38:00.000+08:00

I enlist tomorrow morning, and I guess this is a goodbye. As my parents put it, a goodbye to the boy that was Brandon, who will now change. For better or worse, that we will have to see, but I guess it's something that we have to go through. Change, the only constant. I started this blog with that in mind, I hope I can start army life and like it just as much as I always think I will.

It's something I always look forward to, a new beginning, away from all the schooling and the people I know since Secondary 1. That second chance to start anew, I'm getting tomorrow. I hope I make an impression, and hope that all my dreams in army can be pushed through with sheer effort on my part. Officer, Sword of Honour, and being on an international mission. I can only cross my fingers that the commandos get sent over to Meluaboh, I do want to get my hands dirty and actually do something to help others. Let's hope the red berets are truly the pride of the army, and get some time overseas helping others, and not let the tan berets get all the attention all the time.

To a new beginning, and a brighter time ahead.

Cheers,
Don

They ask me why

2005-01-04T23:55:00.000+08:00

Private First Class Edward J. Moskala, charged 60 meters to enemy machine-gun emplacements to destroy them with grenades. Covered the withdrawal of his squad, for three hours. Found that one of his squadmates was left behind, without hesitation charged back to get him. Protected the wounded while help was sought, found another man left behind, went charging into enemy fire to get his buddy back from the jaws of death, before being mortally wounded. Awarded Medal of Honor, the highest military decoration in the U.S. Armed Forces.

This happens ever so often, and World War Two may have been 60 years ago, but courage like this still lives on. Why do men take such risks to themselves, for others? Ask our Hollywood composite character Hoot in Black Hawk Down, he'll give the classic response a Delta guy, any army dude, would give. "They won't understand, that it's not the war, it's about the man next to you. That's all, nothing else matters."

Military types think only they have this type of bond, but I guess the current disaster shows otherwise. The ourpouring of goodwill is unprecedented, you cannot imagine how much aid is being poured into the affected regions. I was working as a volunteer at SPH, and the amount of logistics we are sending over is phenomenal, there is no wonder why a bottleneck occurs, I cannot imagine any airport, cow herds running over the runway or not, will be able to cope with all the materiel. And aid money is estimated at 2 billion dollars, well over a hundred times worth the initial amount pledged. Some may call this guilt at work, we are alive and well but they aren't so let's pour in money to assauge our guilt. I call it basic compassion. We feel for those who may be thousands of miles away, in a totally different life, because we are all human. Religion, culture, politics, take a back seat.

And look who are on the ground first, providing the humanitarian assistance. Soldiers, the military. U.S. , Singapore, Indonesia, Australia, Sri Lanka, India, Thailand, all have military personnel on the ground first to do the heavy lifting. The next time some pacifist goes rioting, asking for world peace and demanding an end to starvation and suffering, let him see who first goes in to give the helping hand. The next time some idiot at the U.N. complains how much the U.S. spends on the military instead of humanitarian aid, he should be denied space on the aircraft carrier sailing on a beeline to the devastated region. Maybe people should be reminded, that those with the greatest power to take lives, also have the strongest urge to give life back. These are the guys who will not only do it for their brothers-in-arms, but also anyone in particular. That's what they exist for, to defend lives and livelihood, and I swear the next idiot who comes up and complains about the military being useless/unworthy/wasteful/no longer valid, will never hear the end of me. No other organisation can muster the strength and discipline needed to truly provide the aid necessary for the victims. Who will do the airlifts, clear the roads, mop up the area, bury the dead, set up the refugee camps, and organise all the aid? Not the Red Cross which does not have such equipment (besides if they do, they don't have the expertise), or some church or mosque which can send all the money and a token number of people but not its congregation who nevertheless can only go there and pray for aid since they have no organisation whatsoever to handle the humanitarian work, or some aid organisation or the U.N. .

Why the military? Precisely because they don't ask why, they do the necessary without the questions. Like PFC Moskala, only the military can see if something needs to be done, and do it, well and without any bureaucratic nonsense or politicking. Or at least without the notion or perception of it, much better than politicians or bureaucrats who take forever to decide what needs to be done, and still not do it. Soldiers do it, because that's what they signed up for, to help defend freedom, life, livelihood. Defend something, that's what they work towards. Civil strife, genocide, terrorist camps, nuclear weapons proliferation, unrest, insurgency, natural disaster, man-made disaster? Send in the marines.

The weapons of war are the greatest tools for peace. Paradoxical? Open your eyes, and take a new look at that Chinook, LST, CVBG, C-130 Hercules, that man in camouflage uniform. He will make the difference, because he's trained to. You can ask him why he does it, but don't expect an answer. He's just there to do the necessary.

Don

An article on the Straits Times

2005-01-01T21:55:00.000+08:00

Read this on the Straits Times today, an essay by Asad Latif, titled "Amid tsunami hell, a glimpse of heaven"

"THE words have all but become a signature line: Hell is other people.

Spoken by a character in No Exit, a play by French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, the line captures the claustrophobia and hopelessness of a banal world where people loathe one another from the shallow depths of their fickle being and false words seduce communication.

There is more to hellishness, of course.

Hellish characters have peopled history and they lurk in the dark alleys of the present.

From Nazis, fascists and perpetrators of genocide, to those who profit from slave labour, to intellectuals who rationalise injustice or are silent about it, hell is these people.

Hell is ordinary people as well: corrupt bureaucrats, black marketeers who profit from food scarcity, the denizens of Third World high-rises who sleep peacefully while, in the slums below, children cry out in malarial delirium.

Hell is anybody who glides through life, gracefully immune to the blighted reality of millions of other lives.

But such is the destiny of man that if hell is other people, so is heaven.

Unfortunately, it sometimes takes a calamity to prove this truth.

The year 2004 ended with a resounding reminder of the truth.

Like the Greek Furies, the cataclysmic tsunami fell upon its victims with the pagan force of nature gone berserk.

Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, residents, foreigners, animals, trees, homes, shops, boats, cars - whatever stood in the way of the maddened waves was snatched up and swept along with manic abandon.

Everyone and everything was dispensable. What mattered was how angry the waves were, how far inland they invaded, how long they battered human habitation before retiring, clawing screaming innocents away from life and land.

The tsunami has left in its wake an epic trail of death and destruction.

The dead are gone. It falls on the living to wail, powerless to give even decent burials to family and friends who were torn out of their lives and, sometimes, their very hands.

Mankind stands reminded: Nature is more powerful than him. Nature is supreme. Nature's hidden moods determine the Darwinian rituals of life and death.

But mankind refuses to be humbled, to bow to tyrant nature's decree and give up on itself.

Even though battered by an earthquake that may have permanently accelerated the Earth's rotation and altered the global map, humans have reached out to one another in the very midst of their collective punishment.

Heaven is such people.

Stories abound about them.

People who lost almost everything themselves offered clothes to protect the modesty of a couple whose clothes were ripped off by the ferocity of nature.

There have been reports of looting, pillaging and theft, of course. It does not take long after the waters have subsided for human nature to sink to its lowest common denominator.

But far more numerous have been uplifting stories of human solidarity.

My colleague Ben Nadarajan reports from Sri Lanka about the head monk of a Buddhist temple on a hill. The monk had looked with disdain at the people pandering to the foreigners who lazed on the beach, played in the water, and gathered around the seafood and the nightlife.

But since the calamity struck, the monk has turned host to about 1,000 of the same people, whether tourists or locals.

The stricken have found a place to stay at three temples.

Truly have houses of worship fulfilled their human mandate as well.

Over in Iran, where thousands were killed by an earthquake in Bam a year ago, an Associated Press report mentions struggling survivors thinking of the victims in this part of Asia.

'Some school kids came to me and asked how they could help people in South-east Asia,' a primary school teacher said.

Across the world, including in Singapore, the response to appeals for aid has been overwhelming.

Looking at the outpouring of human solidarity, it is impossible not to think that heaven is other people.

Heaven is other people working for the community, compassion and comradeship. These are the higher possibilities of the human condition.

People are working for them.

For me, the tsunami has brought about a rather strange conversion.

Coarsened by the hellish suffering that has become commonplace around a six billion-strong globe, I have wondered for some time whether there are not too many humans around for their own good.

Famine, pestilence, war, civil war, religious strife, inhumanity to the old, the infirm, children: these multiplying attacks on humanity are fuelled, after all, by the sheer numbers of people who are willing to kill, or are helpless to fight and are therefore ready to die.

Perhaps a world of three billion would have fewer monsters and victims, I thought. The scale of human iniquity might go down even if the propensity towards violence did not, I thought.

Then came the tsunami - and the heartbreaking images.

And this old, calloused heart of mine stirred. I saw each death for what it was - one too many.

The vile idea that there are too many humans vanished.

I looked more carefully for signs of life in the murderous epic. I found them in stories of humans holding hands and facing the ravages of chance.

I realised: Hell might be other people, but so is heaven.

And heaven is more powerful than hell."

Maybe there is hope for the human race after all. Score one for the humanist good guys.

Don. PS, Happy new year, may pure, simple humanity take the wheel this year and let compassion flow forth.

Sea surge

2004-12-30T10:57:00.000+08:00

The tragedy is "unprecedented", the devastation "unimaginable". So many countries hit in so little time. An earthquake in Aceh measuring 9.0 on the Richter scale, detected first by the US Geological Survey, causes a tsunami which hits Indonesia, Phuket, Thailand, Penang, Malaysia, India, Sri Lanka and even states in the East African belt. The toll is set to rise above the 100,000 mark before the year ends. International relief efforts have been sent from as far as the US, which pledged the highest amount of aid set at US$50 million dollars. Britain and Australia follow closely behind with pledges of US$30 million or thereabouts. And of course, the EU with its 25 member countries and the world's highest GDP per capita, donates a measly US$4 million, dwarfed already by the contribution from Singapore.

It's quite a sight, seeing how many different groups of people band together when a common threat exists. And once that problem goes away, we resort to the same behaviour of fighting among ourselves. Aceh is one of those states which wanted to break away from the Indonesian archipalaego, it's independence hopes crushed when the Indonesian military moved in. Now look at who go begging to that same government who not too long ago it was telling to screw off. And that military which was not too long ago shooting people in Aceh is helping with relief efforts. In Sri Lanka, no matter if you're Tamil or Sinhalese, Buddhist or Hindu, when the waves come, nature gives the same treatment. And because it's holiday season, we have tons of tourists from all over the world scattered throughout the many island resorts, which by the way consists of a large number of Europeans (EU better wake up), a truly international humanitarian crisis exists. It's strange that so many people must die before the rest of us wake up and do something, together. A tragedy of such proportions is necessary for international cooperation?

Furthermore, it's not a uniform level of commitment from all parties. As mentioned already, the EU has the most reason to help but seems to flounder when it is needed most (Iraq anyone?). Further demonstrates that they are just full of Chirac nonsense and irrelevant until they can get their act together. However more tellingly, it depends which country you are from that the aid amount differs. The Bam earthquake in Iran last year was just as bad, but guess what, you're Iranian and since you insist on holding on to some nuclear technology, go rebuild your own damn country. The fault of the government burdens the people. But guess what, in government you get what you deserve, and from a theocratic government which the people ushered in less than 3 decades ago, this is what you get. No aid and lots of bullshit on the international stage. In Indonesia, where the democratically elected President watches as key members of his government who are needed most in this crisis cut loose and run, corruption runs rampant. The disaster is a reminder that unless SBY is serious about dealing with corruption, this is the kind of crap he faces each time the shit hits the fan. Instead of ministers doing their job when they are needed, they find the nearest hole to hide in.

I live less than a thousand kilometers from the epicentre, and felt the slight tremors which reverberated throughout the island when Aceh was hit. No tsunami, thankfully, but no lack of compassion either. The amount of money donated by Singaporeans to date now goes several times above the amount the government pledged. The Red Cross alone has received the same amount the government has pledged from walk-ins to its office, and different organisations, even my former school, is doing something to help the affected people. I'm sure this scene is repeated in about any country on Earth with news channels now. Pessimists may say this is a slow week, and as news channels have nothing else to broadcast, the disaster takes centrestage everywhere and people get out all their year-end bonuses to help. In this case, even the pessimistic view has optimistic undertones. Individuals are doing their utmost in helping others they don't even know, putting money and aid in the hands of people far from their own homes. Shouldn't you too? Go to the Red Cross website and do your part.

They say it's an omen that 2004 ends in this manner, and the beginning of 2005 is greeted with such tragedy. But I say we must see the bright spark in the darkness, that in tragedy we see compassion for our fellow human beings, regardless of race, religion or creed. The event does not signal any change or reveal any new trends in world behaviour. Mother nature does not have a political agenda, if plates have to move, they move. No omens or portents exists, and we should not try to taint the new year with any predictions or otherwise. Right now, the most pressing thing to be done is to do what we can for the tsunami victims, and let learning to empathise be on our list of resolutions for next year.

Don

Faith keeps us standing

2004-12-27T23:52:00.000+08:00

Invictus
by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul

Believe.

2004-12-25T02:48:00.000+08:00

Ring Out, Wild Bells
By Alfred, Lord Tennyson

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Merry Christmas, and may we remember those who serve and preserve the peace we enjoy. Oh, and screw the last line.

Don

Tis the season, again

2004-12-23T16:32:00.000+08:00

I'm feeling totally stoned. 8 hours sitting at the Aeromedical Centre, with a stupid machine blowing air into my eye every hour, to measure my eye pressure. Not only did I discover how boring TV programmes are in the morning, I have discovered Einstein's Theory of Relativity all over again. The PAINFUL WAY. Time really passes more slowly when all you got to do is nothing. At least found a new friend while stoning my time away, VJ's volleyball captain. I look like a complete joke next to the guy, who is buffed and looks ready to punch my lights out. Good luck in NDU bro.

At least tomorrow promises to be an interesting day, with a good dinner and something to do after it. Hope we can make it more memorable, last few chances to meet before I go in, and haven't seen you since prom. I have no idea what to give you for a present, so I hope you don't get me one, and make me look totally guilty and embarassed.

Mogilan comes out on Christmas day, the guys(tm) will probably surround him and find out more about army, and get to finally solve the mystery if the skin under all that hair on his head is truly as dark as the rest of him. Hope we can have a wonderful last meet at my place on the 31st, just like old times, like how we did when we were just getting into J1.

Just read about the bombing in Iraq, this one hitting the mess tent for the troops. It's odd, the season for peace is just around the corner and militants are taking the chance to hit out at the troops. US is closing the consulate in Surabaya because they are afraid that with Christmas, they are most likely to be bombed by militants. What respect these barbarians show for a peaceful celebration, and this gives proof of how stupid religion can make people become. The holier the day is on the religious calender, the more likely violence is about to break out, even if it's the celebration of peace and joy. What irony. Perhaps if we spent less time celebrating the birth of Jesus, and spent more time on actually building peace around the world, perhaps if we stop spending money on gifts for people we know and put that money in the hands of those who deserve it, perhaps if we just stop fooling ourselves in mindless beliefs which are more than 2000 years old and totally inapplicable in the world which exists now, and put that faith into people who actually do a goddamn thing in making peace possible today, we would have that world of peace and joy every damn Christmas carol goes on and on about.

The iconic hypocrite, I am. I have no idea how I'm going to build that peace and joy, even the chance seems slim. MM Lee just gave had a Q&A session to some foreign correspondent's society in Singapore, and damn if that the guy isn't the most well informed man this side of the world. Who ever heard of the Maastricht Agreement? He can talk about the state of the Euro, the state of Sino-Singapore relations, and the state of Myanmar with impeccable knowledge on all of them. Anyway, he was asked if Singapore would commit troops to Iraq, and to that he gave a flat no. Although the reason was valid, parents would probably object if their sons were forced to Iraq during NS, and the corp of regular soldiers are all officers, I couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment. Singaporeans still can't give a shit about lending others that hand. I hope when I get in, maybe one man can make some things change, and that deployment may be more than just a dream. And wearing a blue helmet won't just be another unfulfilled promise to myself.

Charity sees the need not the cause.: German Proverb

To be. Or not.

2004-12-17T22:14:00.000+08:00

It's quite an experience, when you sit in a chair facing an interview panel which not only holds the power over allowing to get what you want, but loves to get into friendly conversation with you as well. Irony? It's not been my first time facing such high stakes cloaked in cheerful banter, prefect and council interviews, head-prefect interview, GC, AC interviews. I guess this is different because for once, I was not sure if what the panel had to offer, was what I wanted.

"So why do you want to be fighter pilot?"

"I'm not sure I want to be one." Ouch. You can imagine the stares I was getting for that one. Facing a trained psychologist, 2 senior pilots and a lieutenant colonel, I did as I usually do for interviews, tell the truth. The whole, bloody, stinking truth. And nothing but it. I swear.

And sweat for my answers too. The interviewers were relentless, giving me the rope to hang myself. I guess I was quick enough to tie the lasso and throw it back on them, because surprise surprise, they gave me the letter. With a contract in it, to be a pilot trainee and work with the air force. You would think I'll be jumping for joy, being offered a career before A level results are released. I thought I should too, but look at me now.

Confused, totally and utterly without an idea what the rest of my life should be spent on. I looked at the contract all night in the chalet, and this morning I look at it again with the same feeling. This was a dream come true, that childhood dream which I had not too long ago. But as I told the interview panel, I'm not a child no more. We grow up, we learn that there is such a thing as responsibility, the rose-tinted glasses come off.

I spent the night at Sentosa with the Group, playing Risk and listening the GC debate the same things we did not 2 years ago. They still have the idealism to carry it through, and I envy the innocence they still possess. The old boys were just there to relive old times, when the world was so much simpler, just Scouting and schooling. I look at those faces last night and the guys no longer seemed young and eager as they were when I met them in Secondary Two. But they were just as passionate to get that innocence back. We played and drank the night away, with Risk and stupid dare games and lots of Coke, no beer or alcohol. Just as we had before. We talked and listened, stoned and did lots of thinking. What future to come, what had past, didn't matter because the important moment was the present.

And now, the letter stares me in the face again. The future. What's to come, and I can decide it now. I must.

"The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealised past."
Robertson Davies

Hold the line

2004-12-10T02:37:00.000+08:00

"For the honor of the fallen,

For the glory of the dead,

The living line of courage held the faith,

and move ahead."

Hope.

2004-12-06T12:20:00.000+08:00

The end, prom nite came and went. But the devil is in the details. It started off on a wrong foot, and almost ended up a disaster. But I guess the saving grace was not in the event itself, but what it meant to me and the rest of those I know.

Many saw prom as the end, graduation as goodbye and farewell. But I guess I got a better deal, making a new friend, hopefully a good friend, in one night. It started off rather coldly, but I guess all things take time. The photo-taking went like the flash of the camera, many snaps but soon it fades. Then I thought I had lost her in the crowd, or she had gone back to the room, and I had absolutely lost my chance to have the chat I had looked forward to all evening. But she didn't disappoint. The long walk to the Esplanade, the initial reluctance, we overcame. We talked, walked, sat, and talked some more. So many things I learnt in just two hours, and I so wish I had known her earlier. There was so much yet to be said, but I guess, the rest of it will have its own time and place. I hope to meet you again soon.

Sitting at the lobby at Conrad, I was stilled psyched up, and I'm just the luckiest guy around I guess. So many people popped by, and conversation was light, but poignant due to the inherent goodbye. Pamela and her uniqueness, Lingli (rest assured we haven't said our final goodbye) and ... , 'Mum', the scouts, the old classmates. I just sat on the sofa as the world popped by, alone at first but soon enough surrounded by familiar company.

0400, though not everyone appeared, it was still significant. Shows one thing, the scouts never play out. Never disappoint. And I guess the sense of virtue and honor which 01 instilled in us still holds strong, we are still the 'guys of honor'. No one can ever take that away.

Then silent walking, along the Esplanade, WWII memorial, Padang, City Hall, all the way back to the hotel. It was precious time spent on precious thought, memories. I have eluded sleep long enough, but in the process, found some hope, of something new and promising. I'm going to do my best to make sure this night has not gone to waste.

"Faith is, at one and the same time, absolutely necessary and altogether impossible."
Stanislaw Lem

The new beginning

2004-11-28T01:43:00.000+08:00

...This is the preferred prom gear.

A Marine's dress blues. I wonder if I can ever get the honor of wearing that. As a Marine. I have an idea of how to get myself in those shoes, but a chance which is so small that it is tempting to say there is no chance at all. Perhaps all I need is some time in the military, see how life is, then maybe I can make a sound choice. But truly, I see myself in no other vocation which can sustain me for the rest of my life. Perhaps just a short-sighted youth with no work experience speaking now. I will get that chance soon, a military life awaits me, but I guess I'm going to enjoy my first months of basic.

It's over, an entire chapter of my life. Studies no longer, I will probably reminisnce of this period of life where everything did not matter so much, where innocence still existed as more than just a word in my vocabulary. A reality which will disappear, with the real world sinking in deeper. It's funny how we always look back in wonder, at how we never appreciate the moments where time didn't matter, and life was simply a joy. I probably will only remember the camps, my failed attempts at soccer, my first three months in AJ, my JC life with GC, the Guys(tm), my abysmal friendships in JC, and that overwhelming urge, to join the military. Perhaps I am made out to fit well in SCHCDO, SPECWARTAC.

Prom is the only day in my calender now. A long goodbye, and I truly hope, a last friendship to be made which would last. Thank you for acceptance. I hope I can make the best of what you have offered. May a friendship blossom in fading light.

A true waste of time again, but salvaging as always, a quote.

Someone once told me that time is a predator that stalked us all our lives. But I rather believe that time is a companion who goes with us on the journey that reminds us to cherish every moment because they'll never come again. What we leave behind is not as important as how we live it. After all, Number One, we're only mortal.
-Captain Jean Luc Picard

Don't give a damn about legacy, it will build itself from the way you choose to spend your life. Spend wisely.

Don

2004-11-28T00:42:00.000+08:00

This is how I look...In prom gear. But...

Rounding the bend

2004-11-23T21:40:00.000+08:00

What's round the corner? A question the Marine may be asking, and me as well. The conclusion of 12 years of schooling, and I'll be in the army next year. The next step will be stepping into the unknown, but what's round the bend you won't find out just standing there. I'm going to have to take the plunge, and find out just what life, army life, has to offer.

Just visited the blog of the guy who ratted out on the Marine unit he followed. Truth, that's his prerogative. He needed to make sure he put out the truth. Let the truth set you free they say. But that's just it, it doesn't. It just put someone behind bars, and made the battle for peace in Iraq one notch more impossible. Margaret Hassan's death occured around the time the news of the Marine shooting came out, Al-Jazeera chooses not to publicise the footage of her killing, but splashes images of the Marine shooting all over the headlines. Truth?

Fact, Marine may not have followed Uniformed Code of Military Justice. Fact, he would be punished nonetheless, with or without the publicity. Fact, Margaret Hassan was executed. Fact, she was defenseless. Fact, she helped the people of Iraq. Fact, the people who killed her are still on the loose, and people put more emphasis on the shooting of a known insurgent who probably killed innocent civilians. In all these facts, where is the truth? Our journalist publicised a fact, which simply hid the truth, and put a false image in peoples' minds, that Marines just enjoy nailing themselves some 'hajis' and totally give no shit about the rules. The media as a source of truth? That's a new one, anyone watched "Wag the Dog"? Truth can be created, and the media can manufacture one, splash pictures it creates and sway you with its words.

Hiram Johnson once said, "The first casualty when war comes is truth". Truth is something to be sought, the carrot on a stick which is always just a finger too far. We chase it, but it just remains out of reach. Does not mean we lose faith and forsake it, but we shouldn't go out of our way to distort it. Facts like the Marine shooting go out and simply skew the truth further, not bring us closer.

What a world I will go into. Where falsehood is perpetuated by facts, and the truth remains so elusive. The lesson which education will never teach, just experience. Before I lose my rose-tinted images of the world, and lose the belief that everyone can make a difference in this world, I can only hope that I do something to prove that perhaps there is still some good left in this world for me to save. Let's hope Mr. Frodo was right.

Don

2004-11-21T14:51:00.000+08:00

The battle is over, but is victory one step closer? Is Iraq one battle less? Or has Fallujah been just the beginning? Mosul, Ramadi, Baghdad? Like late Yasser Arafat once said, to the United Nations General Assembly, "Today I have come bearing an olive branch and a freedom fighter's gun. Do not let the olive branch fall from my hand." Yasser Arafat could not stop his organisation from fighting, the olive branch fell and Israel and the dream of Palestine seems as far away now as it was then. Will a free Iraq, from dictator and now more importantly, from fear, ever have a chance? Someone get those Marines an olive branch each.

It don't mean a thing, man. Don't mean a f***ing thing

2004-11-19T10:09:00.000+08:00

Marine shoots dead an insurgent. Now, this probably ain't news-worthy enough, so they probably had to give it a nice spin.

Marine shoots dead a wounded insurgent. Still doesn't have a ring to it...

Marine shoots dead a wounded, defenseless insurgent at point blank range. Wow, that totally will flood the headlines and totally make everyone MORE pissed off over the war in Iraq. Put some footage of a guy blowing away someone lying prone on the floor, and you got your story. But guess what, here's some news to that dumb embedded reporter who decided to screw the guy who had ensured he was alive to send that footage out.

It's war, people get killed. All the time. No matter who you are, what you do, once a bullet comes at you at 1100m/s, you don't have much of a chance. Plus, it seems every coverage of that story only wants to show the shooting part, ignoring what had happened to that unit earlier. The marine had almost had his cheek blown off, they lost a man to insurgents who pretended to surrender, and they just spent the better part of last week clearing street after street of people wanting to kill them. In those kinds of situation, the guy lying on the floor PRETENDING to be dead could well be holding a fragmentation grenade and waiting for me to walk near him (which the insurgents have been known to do way too often.). It seems the BBC is the only objective voice here, actually telling what had happened to the unit before they entered the mosque. Perhaps American media should learn a lesson from their Atlantic neighbour, and learn to tell THE WHOLE TRUTH.

Now that marine is waiting to be charged with violating the rules of war. I wonder how civilized those insurgents were when they blew away an aid worker. A woman. Nobody is complaining about that. Headline: Insurgents kill innocent, defenseless aid worker, who spent the better part of her life helping Iraqi children get on their feet again. Who railed against Clinton and Bush for the sanctions. Who was helping others till she was kidnapped and killed by insurgents. Margaret Hassan, a true heroine.

Nobody gets surprised at those headlines anymore, I wonder why. We truly believe that this insurgents no longer need to follow the rules? And the American soldier who must fight them have to follow military code of conduct or face being charged? Very soon, we'll have another Vietnam, because the media seems to give no shit about telling the whole truth, giving that sensationalist view of Americans killing 'innocent' insurgents, rather than insurgents killing real innocent civilians. Why report a single insurgent who had previously been trying his best to kill Marines and civilians, when everyday a bomb goes off killing tens of hundreds of civilians? Many more will die if the US were forced out of Iraq before its mission is done, and all because CNN or NBC needs a headline.

The good guys need to follow the rules when fighting the bad guys. Agreed. The bad guys need not follow the rules. Agreed. But let's not put more stress on the good guys anymore. They got a war to fight, an enemy who follows no rules to defeat. They don't need to face the prospect of having their faces plastered all over the evening news because they made a mistake. They don't need others to make judgements on them, blowing up minarets, where snipers are hiding, and killing wounded insurgents, who for all we know might be holding a grenade. Others who make judgements while they sit peacefully in their offices, or homes, without mortar rounds coming in on their heads, and can be certain they won't have an IED, AK-47 or RPG going off anywhere near them.

The title, it's a favorite line among GIs in Vietnam. They no longer saw the point in fighting an enemy, if all they were rewarded with was condemnation and scorn upon reaching home. A war they never volunteered for, but were drafted into. A war the media dramatised to get troops in, then dramatised to get troops out. Vietnam was a tragic error, like my history essay said. Let's not make Iraq one too.

"People sleep peaceably in their beds at night because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf"
-George Orwell

Let's not forget that.

Don

2004-11-15T03:59:00.000+08:00

The picture in my head, an impeccable illustration. The Enterprise leaves dock, as I imagined. The songs plays in the background. Then it goes to warp, the song slowly fades away. The hope of humanity, away on its maiden voyage to explore the great blue. A picture truly says a thousand words.

I.D.I.C.

2004-11-13T03:12:00.000+08:00

"Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations". Vulcan philosophy, that tolerance is the key because diversity is inevitable, since the universe is infinite, and like it or not, we're stuck together on this puny Earth. I guess it is the brainchild of Gene Roddenberry himself. Interesting that the things which mattered in the 1960s, still matter now. Old prejudices die hard, and we take time to change. Or will we ever?

Nazis and their "Final Solution", America and the Civil Rights movement, apartheid in South Africa, even now, the branding of all Muslims as terrorists. All are instances of when we try to achieve uniformity, and deny that diversity is all around us. Perhaps Star Trek needs to make a huge comeback, teach the lessons all over again to a generation which came upon "ethnic cleansing" as a new term, where wars are fought because we cannot stand each other. The fundamentalists are again running the show, with their own notions of what is good or bad. While they battle, the innocent suffer. While Fallujah burns as US and Iraqi forces battle the insurgents, the civilians are unable to get any medical aid. No food, water or safety. Perhaps the insurgents like to see the suffering, maybe that's why they keep taxi drivers and innocent civilians in slaugterhouses in the city, and torture and kill them only when US forces arrive. US places approaching? Mosques are protected under the Geneva Convention, let's shoot at the Marines while hiding in mosques and get them to blow up those minarets! Excellent Kodiac moment, while those dumb embedded reporters film all that down and label the US as insensitive and barbaric while we sit in the basement torturing innocent civilians!

Everything is a symbol these days. I blow up a mosque because the enemy fires at me from inside it, I'm labelled a hater of Muslims. Even Yasser Arafat can't get a final resting place in Jerusalem because that would mean the Israelis recognise the Palestinian claim that Jerusalem is part of Palestine. All that religious talk about forgiveness and tolerance, from both Jews and Muslims, and a man can't get his final resting place because of politics, that's got to be a first. The Israelis don't earn any brownie points with that gesture of theirs, they're simply perpetuating the endless round of violence they want to put a stop to. How many more lives does it take for something to become wrong? When did numbers matter more than actual morality? People obviously don't give a shit about what their religions preach, as they continue to keep a conflict which should have ended a long time ago going.

Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. Perhaps like in the Earth in Star Trek, when we start World War III and nuke ourselves to oblivion and back, then we might understand, and treasure, what it means. Question is, will we get that chance to survive Armageddon?

"If man does find the solution for world peace it will be the most revolutionary reversal of his record we have ever known."
George C. Marshall

2004-11-11T21:42:00.000+08:00

Satellite picture of Fallujah. As usual, the "insurgents" are cowering in mosques or schools, to avoid getting shelled by the American and Iraqi forces. Perhaps it has to be mentioned again, there is no chance, not even an iota worth, that the insurgents are going to triumph. They keep locals back at gunpoint so they can have human shields against the Americans, and they continue to take hostages like nobody's business. Don't think that'll work wonders for their public relations, but I guess the image of terrorists is bad enough that nothing can save it. They'll lose Fallujah in the next few days, then run to Ramadi, which they'll lose again in a couple of months, maybe even weeks. Where next? Perhaps they haven't seen that the US is determined to ensure Iraq is safe, and Iraqis themselves want safety and stability above all else. Keep fighting, but be assured, you're going down. Hard.

2004-11-09T01:04:00.000+08:00

SEAL team. Get in, get down, get them, and get out. Enough said.

I am my father's son

2004-11-08T13:51:00.000+08:00

It was on Saturday, after tuition when I had dinner with my dad, both of us sharing a meal. He talked to me about the issues for the family, especially my sister's dismal results. Previously, he has told me about the business opportunities, asked me for my views and what he planned to do. We talked about my future, most probably in the military, and at that moment, it may have seemed how similar I was to my father more than 2, 3 decades ago. He gave me his usual warnings about how the army works, that I must be academically accomplished or I will be a nobody. But through the warning, I heard the unspoken words, (perhaps my over-active imagination at work) "My son is turning out so much to be...like me."

I don't know the circumstances that led to my father joining the army, he may have done so out of necessity. But it may be just like mine, a genuine desire to help others, and at the same time, see the world. It would be an interesting moment, when I am the one in uniform, and my dad pins on my stripes. That would be a dream, not the President handing the sword of honor to me, but my father, and so I could salute the man who has done so much for me.

Would my family be proud of the course I have chosen in life? I do not know, but I know that they would be happy at least that I choose to walk my own path. To honor, and glory? No, I think something simpler would be more fitting. To ideals, and dad.

Don

2004-11-08T02:33:00.000+08:00

The forgotten. Values over troops in Iraq? America may have just voted wrongly, and these Marines may have to suffer their mistake. Would President Bush be the right choice for Iraq and the rest of the world? Only time will tell. 4 more years will tell. http://www.time.com/time/photoessays/ramadi/

It's almost 3, I ought to make this short. One day from my greatest fear, Maths C 9233 Paper 1. Guess it's nothing compared to the terror these Marines will be facing in Fallujah. I don't know about the comments some of them made, that "Satan is in Fallujah. And we're going in to fix him." Naviete? I guess they live up to how Lord Alfred Tennyson describes the soldier in "Charge of the Light Brigade", "Theirs not to make reply,/ Theirs not to reason why,/ Theirs but to do and die."

The higher ups will do the thinking for us, we're going in just to kill the bad guys, the generals and the President will make sure we're fighting the right people. No children in the streets, no fraticide, no innocent civilians. The insurgents will have horns on their heads, tails sticking out their butts and carry pitchforks, not RPGs and AK-47s. Right?

Right?

2004-11-05T00:23:00.000+08:00

Ain't she a sight for sore eyes...

When will your moment come?

2004-11-04T22:17:00.000+08:00

The inspiration for the title of this page is a rather odd one. It's one of those things we think up in the middle of the night, when the restless mind refuses to submit to sleep. I think it was a few months back, after June Common Test, when I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. I had just finished reading "A Company of Heroes", the exploits of Mike Durant during his capture in Somalia in 1993, after the operation to capture Aidid's top lieutenants went horribly wrong. I think it would be easier for most to remember it as "Black Hawk Down", the book and the movie which tried to capture the essence of that day in history. Two names stay with me after personally reading the book and watching the movie (I was watching the NC-16 film while I was 15). Their names stick because of the actions which they undertook to save the lives of their comrades, that of the crew of Super-64. Randy Shughart and Gary Gordon, I have the greatest respect for both of you.

The title came to me, because as my sleep-deprived mind wondered that night, I came to a sudden realization that perhaps all of us have that one moment when a choice had to be made, the definitive point in our life, where all previous actions and deeds pale in comparison to what we had to do next.(maybe the caffeine I had a few hours before sleeping was getting to me) It was the moment when nothing we did before ever mattered, rather, it was our next step which meant everything. Heroes I guess, are made in that moment, when that one choice would define you, where either you simply choose the highway to obscurity, or your own way to live on in eternal memory. Therefore, a moment for eternity.

Perhaps it may be a bit too simplistic to think that one deed would serve to validate our personal existence, but being the idealist I do think we each have our own personal choices which would affect people around us, and how we go about resolving our issues show who we are. Though the choices matter, I guess the experience is still the most important. I do hope that when my moment for eternity comes, I choose my way.

Choice. Today's General Paper comprehension passages delved into it, whether too much choices in modern day life is a bane or a blessing. My personal view is that though life is not our choice to make, how we live it is and always has been our own choice. Having only the contemporary worldview, it may be an over-generalisation on my part, that my ancestors had as much choice as I do, but it is my view that the fundamental choices in life exist now as they have before. Perhaps education is the key, that with more knowledge come more complex decisions. Therefore is ignorance bliss? Less choice better? An endless path we tread on now, and I choose to stop.

America has made its choice, and it is George Bush for another 4 years. I only hope he sticks to his word, unlike 4 years earlier, when he said he will be a unifier. The world and America has become more divided, even polarised, since he took office. I only hope we do not descend into chaos because of irreconciliable differences, and truly hope that we can rise above to find common ground and seek understanding rather than war. Then we can concentrate on digging Osama's ass out of the hole he crawled into, and send him on his way to Paradise.

Ideals don't come cheap, if we want peace, then we must prepare to combat those who threaten it. I've always been of the mind that force is necessary because there is such a thing as irrevocable evil, that will not compromise. Pure evil, and we can only protect the ideals we hold dear with M-16 in one hand, the other extended to offer peace if and when we find the source of evil eliminated. Osama is one source, the others are all the radical teachers of fundamentalist, extremist religious and social beliefs. Terrorism may have many tentacles, but an octupus still has a head which a 5.56 round can easily ventilate. The old axiom, that old men talk while young men die, still holds true. Take out the old trash-talkers like Osama and Bashir, and young men would have a chance to live again, to utilise their lives in service of peace and all mankind.

Off the deep end again, I have a tendency to ramble into the totally incoherent. Again, I provide salvation in quotation marks, a quote from John Stuart Mill.

"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks nothing is worth war, is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free, unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."

Sincerely,
Don

Captain's Starlog, November 3rd, 2-0-0-4

2004-11-03T02:16:00.000+08:00

Change is the only constant. How true that rings now. I always criticised others about blogging, saying how childish it is, and that it was attention seeking behaviour at its worst, since it clogs up an already garbage-filled Internet. Then change occurred, I start to see things from their view, and found that it is indeed a good way to let off steam, and keep tabs of our own growth, as we grow from strength to strength. History, even if it's only our own, in the making, with each new entry. I believe it was Frodo who said that the best anyone could get to living forever was in songs and books, and though the Lord of the Rings was a work of fiction, it is without doubt the method with which Tolkien will live on forever.

First entry, and yes as seen in the title, I am clearly a Trekkie, though you could consider me a late bloomer. I didn't grow up on Kirk or Picard, but the most recent iteration, Captain Jonathan Archer. My starship is the NX-01 Enterprise, not the NCC-1701 classification, without deflector shields, tractor beams, phaser arrays and quantum torpedos, just polarized hull plating, spatial torpedos, phaser cannons and magnetic tractors. There was no Federation yet, no Prime Directive, just Starfleet with no Vulcan commanders. I saw the pilot while on holiday in Malaysia, Desaru if I recall correctly. At 1200 midnight, alone in the hotel room with everyone conked out, I saw the Enterprise hit the threshold at Warp Factor 5. I was at my lowest then, having screwed up Common Tests, and preparing to do worse for Preliminary Exams. My prefectorial term left me with nothing worth remembering, I regretted not spending more time on my scouting, feeling fatalistic when I looked at the sum of the parts of my life, and saw it amounting to zilch. Nothing.

That episode ended on a cliffhanger, though I wouldn't call it so, because it didn't leave me hanging. I was beamed up, metaphorically speaking. At the end the crew was faced with an ion storm, which was an uncertain obstacle, since Starfleet never equipped its crew with what it needed most then during its maiden voyage, experience. The navigation officer Ensign Mayweather (Dickens would be proud of how that name seems so ironic now) advises to go around the storm. But our captain simply looks at the obstacle facing him, smiles and shakes his head gently. "No. Let's go through it." I found a new way to look at things, and no longer did I see the predicament I was in as a bane, but an experience waiting for me to go through it, to explore and learn more.

The song which plays when Enterprise cleared its moorings, moving out of star dock with the rest of humanity watching, and Archer commanding, "Bring us out slow, one quarter impulse. Warm up the warp engines, we're going into the deep blue." It plays everytime I face an insurmountable obstacle, with overwhelming odds stacked against me. It plays, and speaks softly into my ears, don't always find triumph when it doesn't exist, don't admit failure and go away defeated, don't avoid the situation, go through it and gain what is most precious, the experience. From out of the blue, Enterprise pulled me from the gutters, and I am all the better because of it. The show gave me back what I sorely lacked to face my trials ahead, the idealism and the faith. At the end of my journey, I would love to say that despite regrets in certain points of my life, there would be no other course I would have taken.

Perhaps that is why I never found God like those who tried to convert me. To all those who have in one way or another felt hurt or doubted their faith in God due to me, I offer my mea cupla (I believe it is used in this context). I have found my own way of seeing things, and having faith in something more worthy of trust, that humanity is still human, as long as we believe in it and put our life's work to it. The world today may be a different place if we put more faith in ourselves, than in some divine being who might right our wrongs, and forgive our sins, and heaven or paradise would await us at the end. Instead of "In God We Trust", I humbly propose, " In Humanity We Believe."

Deep. I'm probably sounding like I have gone off the really deep end, like the Marianas Trench. But I guess I'm doing my little bit in pushing what I believe, hoping that perhaps I would do some good in this first post. If you manage to read up to here, I commend you for your perserverance, and put across this little notion, perhaps you may have gained something from the traumatising experience of reading through this storm of random ideas?

I'll try and salvage this experience for you, by making sure you do gain something from this. A quote, from Samuel Butler.

"We can do very little with faith, but we can do nothing without it."

Sincerely,
Don