death/wake/funeral/sispec (wk1?)

i've reached some semblance of closure. funeral mass, going to the crematorium, forcing myself through every hail mary in the rosary while the coffin was getting wheeled into the furnace... i guess going through all the rituals did help. some of the prayer services each night were pure hell to get through though.

-----

most old people die of pneumonia, like my grandmother back in 1999 (i think). my dad didn't. on the cert it says "metastatic colon carcinoma" - colon cancer that'd spread. most of his body was still functioning, just that his digestive system wasn't any more, and i guess he felt it was time to pack it in and leave. his pulse just slipped away in the middle of his sleep.

how true it is that the dying often have one final burst of lucidity, they get to see everyone, reassure all their family that everything's going to be fine, and then they leave them. that's exactly what my dad did, i guess, although i'm not sure if it was all up to him. joking with the nurses on sunday too... told adrian's father-in-law that he wanted a carlsberg heh. we really thought everything was going to be fine when we left him on sunday night; maybe that's what he intended. it's what he would have wanted, us not to worry, to go home and rest, to believe that everything would be fine. he was always telling everyone he'd have 5 more good years; i think that was typical of him.

thank goodness adrian managed to rush home in time; he's been a great support and well, a brother to look up to. this must be the 4th time i'm seeing him in the last 10 years, but i guess we've been through a lot these few days and drawn closer. will miss him.

and thank you very, very much to those people who smsed and called, to those offered to come, and to those who actually got the location of the wake and managed to come. your support's helped me to move on. please don't misunderstand me, i did want to keep it private and quiet (my dad's wishes were for it to be "simple"), to have my own time to myself and my family, and i didn't want people to take the trouble to come. i'm sure papa would have protested too; he never wanted to impose on others. but thank you for your time and your thoughts.

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Death

ok i'll try to do this chronologically.

Monday

~4:40am - got up, groaned inwardly, dug out my hp batt to change and charge (heard it might be a 2-wk confinement so didn't want to take chances). i think i might have filled up the electric kettle. these details might or might not be significant.

~4:50am - crawled into bed with me mom (taking my dad's place). she was alr awake, we talked abit bout how we were relieved that my dad was much better and might be discharged.

5:18am - my mom got a phonecall from SGH telling us that his pulse rate was 48 and falling, and asking us to come immediately. couldn't quite believe it; i still insisted on changing into my uniform in case it was a false alarm and i had to report to camp.

5:22am - time of death. although we didn't know at the time

~5:45am - my brother Adrian arrived.

~5:55am - we arrived. i stayed behind at the car a little while to grab the contact numbers for camp and all that, while my mom rushed ahead. when i got to the bed a couple of minutes later, if not for adrian and my mom crying by the bedside, i wouldn't have known he'd left us, he really looked exactly like he was sleeping. it didn't register for maybe 10 seconds, till i saw the ECG. i won't dwell on it; it's difficult.

from then on things are pretty much a blur. lots of crying, phonecalls to undertakers, casket companies, relatives, camp... collecting the death cert at 8am... reaching the funeral home about 9:30am i think... meeting my 1st aunt and 2nd uncle (on my mom's side) on the way (we'd mobilised them)... going home with my uncle to change... manic breakfast... setting up at st. stephen's church for the wake... going to the church of our lady of perpetual succour (OLPS) to get the niche... returning for the wake... my mom and adrian contacting a whole lot of people (this noob, sadly, didn't have very much of a role in arranging things. i've always been looked upon as the kiddo, and i guess that hasn't helped me much).

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Wake - I'm abandoning all efforts to make this chronological, and focus on the main stuff. i was pretty emotional on the first day. cried a lot in hospital, at the wake, when my mum told me he'd be proud of me, when my bro said the suit looked perfect... emotional wreck. i couldn't take it whenever anyone referred to my childhood with my dad, or what he thought of me... he always made me out to be so much more than i really was; i still feel that the real rayner is a dim, pale shadow of what you all think of me. well at least i'm a master illusionist =] bit better on the second day, i was over the emotional hump i guess. less stuff to do and people to handle, i managed to catch up with adrian.

in between there was lots of mundane stuff... meeting relatives i'd never seen before and couldn't even figure out how to address (oh this is adrian's mother's cousin -name- and your dad's father's sister's daughter. and your mom's cousin. and your aunt's husband's sister-in-law.) getting drinks out for people. prayer services. lots of interminable ones.

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funeral. this was really tough. wed morn, got up early. i'd stayed up late (1:30am) to choose a song for the service, my bro's idea. ended up with Panis Angelicus (by St Thomas Aquinas, music by Cesar Franck), really beautiful thing and pretty appropriate for communion (is it called that?). got very emo (by my standards) seeing my dad for the last time. funeral mass wasn't that long, and i guess the church focuses more on hope and life after death so it didn't feel so bad. the cremation was traumatising though esp for my mom, she was really crying all the way. very, very sad for her.

had lunch and then i went with my mom, uncle (mom's youngest brother) and adrian to upper seletar to relax a bit before we went back to collect the ashes. nice peaceful place. collecting the ashes was quite the eye-opener... they give it to you pretty unceremoniously in a toyogo plastic box, and you actually have to crush the bone fragments yourself (unless you get someone else to do it, like we did - a guy from the funeral home). reality is really stranger than fiction. went back to the church (OLPS) to put the urn in the niche.

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lunch with mum and adrian at swensen's at j8 today. talked a lot, joked a bit, rmbered lots of little things about papa. well... it was good to have him back, him explaining all the catholic doctrine about death was a big help. i don't think i'll see him till mebbe next year if i get into an american uni and go over. but yes, a Good Bloke every which way you look at him.

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thanks again to all of you who sent smses and called and came down. i won't name you all it would be very odd. and very long. but it was very generous of all of you to offer your time, thoughts and prayers. a few people who helped very much: zh, where on earth would i be without you? adam, thx for your smses. jon lee, your marathon smses (10+ screens long!) are insane, but thanks so much for writing them. sumae and zm thanks for your sms hugs -hug back- =) michelle for calling and your prayer. sabby for calling from norway. david for risking a confinement and calling back from OCS at midday (!) really gotta respect his guts. seeing mr sze was a nice if unexpected touch; i guess we can put our differences behind now. so many friends and classmates who smsed, i just hope i managed to reply to all of you. thanks one last time for your support, it helped tide me over.

ok then. sleep, and sispec. big sigh.

.

My dad left us at 5:22am, this morning. Peaceful all the way, in his sleep. He'd seen all the people he wanted to see, he'd waited for my A levels and my posting and for Adrian to come home, and I guess he just felt it was time. "Might as well" - he'd have said.

Kyrie eleison. Christe eleison. Kyrie eleison

oh well

and so block leave comes to an end.

time really flew. my dad was in hospital the whole time; a roller-coaster of emotions as you'd expect, what with him getting baptised on the 13th (if i remember correctly) and receiving last rites this wednesday! i spent lots of time shuttling back and forth, camping at hospital 2 nights (wed and thurs), and as you might expect block leave didn't feel like rest for me at all, it was mentally draining and an emotional nightmare. at least he's a lot better now, and i feel a bit more at ease leaving him for a 2-week confinement.

sispec. another blow. i'd hoped so much for ocs, even though the odds were stacked against me. my fitness is rock-bottom and bmt was already trying for me (and with my dad being terminally ill my mind was weighed down with lots of stuff). no matter, i'll try my best; i have to.

-----

it was a real consolation going out with the few friends i managed to squeeze time out for.

YO - fun times again. island creamery with zh/sh... talked some cock, hung loose for a while. saw my section. coming along, you guys. if any of you drop by here: i'm proud of you lot despite all that i say. =)

geog guys - crazy swell time. sweet. i guess my home, being my home, didn't have anything to offer by way of entertainment, but you lot were cool about it and didn't make me feel like a damn no-life fucktard. cool stuff cooking for you guys. first time i did steaks too. haha yeah i monopolised the kitchen because my mom would disown me if her immaculate sparkling pride and glory got sullied by one stray spot of oil or herb. coolio board games from wally really saved the day. haha xy got pwnt in puerto rico (a damn complex board game with about a billion rules) and i surprise surprise came out second despite being the underdog the whole time. and no i didn't mind being left out of the convos, it's fine by me lah. nothing to say about soccer anyway. glad you guys liked my tiramisu and yeah it was really a fuxload of alcohol. i could taste the alcohol fumes, i swear.

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sigh what else. talking to friends really helped. what would i do, where would i be without you guys? those little snippets of convo all over the place that rescued me from depression... those smses that might not have seemed much... the emails that came and brought a smile and a tear to my tired face... thx to all of you.

at least my (real life) bro (adrian)'s back from america. it would be hell trying to explain how he's my bro when he's a whole generation apart (complicated family history), but yeah we do connect despite the age gap and the number of times we've seen each other in the last 10 years (two or three times in total i think). but yeah my dad's in safe hands now... sigh i'm just a tad disappointed that he prefers adrian's company to mine now, but of course he hasn't seen him for so long either i dont really mind. at any rate i was really happy to see him again. funny how i should be an only child in spirit but not, technically, in reality.

and so i'm 11 hours away from sispec, while my friends are the same duration away from ocs. much regret and sadness. wishing them all the best in my thoughts, while praying for the best for them and myself. hope i can loosen up and connect with people.

oh well. bed beckons - my own, for the last time before 12 sad and lonely nights.

dreams

because dreams are all that we can hang on to:

I want to

(next 2 years)

• fit in
• get fit
• make it to OCS after BSLC
• run a marathon

(next 5 years)

• land a place in princeton or LSE or columbia or yale (and a scholarship)
  
• find new friends
  
• learn a new language (german?)
  
• own the complete oeuvre of the beatles
  
• get hung over. just not too often.
  
• see my dad there when i graduate
  

(next 10 years)

• (if i don't get a bond) land a job in London, New York, Chicago or a cool place like that, as an economist with a large financial institution, earning a gazillion bucks a month
  
• find someone to share my life with
  
• own an apartment here and in a swanky part of town somewhere else. like London. Buenos Aires. Vienna. New York. Geneva. Barcelona. with a walk-in bookcase and a soundproof music room with orgasm-inducing speakers and a cool piano
  
• take a train from here to London - i bet it's possible
  
• sit in a viennese coffee house for a whole day
  
• own a car that... owns.
  
• drive like a speed demon
  
• cook like a michelin chef
  
• tango like the devil
  
• go trout-tickling
  

(life)

• have a family with kids to be proud of
  
• travel the world
  
• change someone's life forever, for the better
  
• think up something no one's ever thought before
  
• write a symphony
  
• keep in touch with the best of my best friends
  
• die in peace
  

you're welcome to laugh, i guess. but we're all entitled to dream.

posting.

grats to all you guys who made the cut for OCS.

i didn't. getting posted to SISPEC is immensely demoralising. sure it's command school, but it'll be like BMT all over again, minus the Good Blokes who made life there tolerable. nearly everyone i know is going to OCS. well, except for those who didn't make IPPT or sitest. and the PES C SLACKERS. i'll certainly face an uphill task finding new friends, especially given what's on my mind now (family situation and all).

most people say it's easy to make friends in army; just loosen up and talk cock. problem is that with the set of interests that i have, i can only talk cock to anglophile bibliophile music-lovers with a Pythonesque sense of humour. don't play soccer, don't dota, don't dig any sport at all, don't follow american idol, don't watch tv unless you count things like little britain and peep show... i could go on.

and i'm inclined to be serious; it's a defence mechanism i've cultivated. to loosen up would be dangerously close to revealing too much of myself, and i'm not willing to do that. peel a thin layer off my personality and you'll find some dangerously sore and festering wounds. the upshot of all of that is that i'm a social misfit.

yet if i want to cross over from sispec to ocs after 3 months (bslc), i'm going to have to find ways of turning myself into a Good Bloke. (get my fitness in order too, but that's another story). just don't have an inkling of how to go about doing that. fux.

well... those of you who know me - there aren't many of you - you'll understand?

all you OCS dudes... i'll be hoping to join you guys in 3 months. it'll be hell but i'll make it or die trying.

maybe literally.

fuxorz.

imagine

imagine you might - would, if you believed the doctor - lose your dad before you turned 20 (or worse, 19);
imagine you had to watch him try to, and give up on, sitting up to clear his throat;
imagine you had to watch him ebbing away on a hospital bed hooked up to a drip at the mercy of the needle;
imagine you had to watch a once-strong hand that once held the feared feather-duster struggle to put pen to paper, using the crumbling ruins of an elegant cursive script;
imagine you had to watch as he dozed, occasionally twitching, stirring, lapsing, sleeping again;
imagine you had to watch him occasionally waking up to mutter - "tell the 2 malay deliverymen that they can go back. the lab doesn't need the animals. the animals don't need food. animal psychology" - to ask after your (late) grandmother - "did someone call lee su yee? i heard someone say lee su yee" - or the (non-existent medicine) - "where's my medicine? tell the nurses i've lost my medicine" - or worse - "tell dr tan it's too late to do anything";
imagine you had to watch him give a thumbs up and struggle to find and grasp your hand as you showed him the one sentence - "promise me you'll be around for my birthday" - written because you couldn't summon up the guts to say it;
imagine that you had nothing to do but watch.

now imagine that you didn't have to imagine.

-----

fuck. there i go tearing again, emo shit. so my dad is terminally ill with colon cancer, and the prognosis isn't good. the doctor who's handling my dad's case called my mom on monday to say he probably only has a few weeks left. he's deteriorated quite a bit over the past week. been in hospital since a day before POP (that's last monday), and now although he's still very much alert he's imagining things and can't talk because he's too tired and phlegm's built up in his throat. we're bringing him back home on fri (if all goes to plan), and he'll be on a drip and probably a liquid diet from now till - till it's time. i just feel incredibly helpless, seeing him there, occasionally staring with the eyes that see and don't see.

i had to go out and get a suit for the inevitable, myself, today. my mom decided he'd go off in a pink shirt and a new suit, because i pointed out she should keep the old jacket - the one from their wedding. heavens no i don't think you'd want to burn that one. pink? he's never worn pink as far as i know; his colour's beige. can what he's never worn in life become him in death? not my place to say anything though. so for 2 hours today i could lose myself in all the morbid calculations - either striped shirt or jacket, but not both striped - diagonal stripes? ugh - solid colours? - how about a two-tone shirt? - damn the sales staff they're daoing me - will that go with the red tie we have? - that style disaster for $249? wtf? - heavens no not a blue blazer plz. - those stripes are fucked - etc. but once that was done it was only a short step from visualising him in the suit, to visualising him, lying down in the suit in the hands of the sleep that dares not speak its name.

i'm numb most of the time when i'm not thinking about it. when i am thinking, i'm pining for the papa i know from childhood. the one who found blue food colouring for my cake on my third birthday. who piggybacked me back from the doctor when i was three. who brought me to the zoo so many times when i was four and five. who walked me back from school when i was six. who sent me to school and picked me up without fail throughout primary and secondary school - and halfway through JC before he had to stop. who in his heart of hearts bore all my coldness in my teenage years when people get embarrassed of their parents, before i realised what an utter bastard i'd become. i want to be seven again, when life was expressed in simplest terms and everything that could be perfect was perfect and i thought they'd stay that way for ever and ever amen but i can't.

what tears at me most is that what has to be said can never be said, not any more. even if he could be well enough to listen to what i must say, i probably won't be around; i'll be in camp, torn from my family at the time when most i need them and they need me. i might have to face the fact that come next book-out there'll only be 2 people in my family. and so things pass out of our hands, out of control. i used to think that everything was in our hands; humanity shapes destiny. but how can that be reconciled with the finality of mortality?

i'm sorry, papa. i'll never ever be the son you hoped i would be, i guess. i hope i made you happy in the little time we had; i hope i can still do that in the little time we have left. if i had my chance again things wouldn't be this way.

maybe i shouldn't think. let go, no regrets, shantih, shantih, shantih, amen, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, live on-

oh shit

well it was Pi day yesterday, march 14th (3.14) and towel day a hell long time ago. 2 dates i've missed...

so that i don't miss another cool commemoration... it's st. patrick's day today woohoo. respect to st. patrick and the irish... they're a crazy nation and he was by all accounts an incredible person.

so with the 1 minute you have left, wear green stuff and drink some beer! lmao.

[EDIT: well it's actually 8 hours left seeing as it's still st. patrick's in ireland where it really counts]

todo

list A: things to do.

1. fish for scholarships at brightsparks -.- and do the essays (if required)
   
2. apply for NUS university scholars programme. i.e. do their essay -.-
3. read. like a monster. (refer to list B)
4. go get tim harford's the logic of life. repeat (3)
5. wait expectantly for replies/offers/news from LSE/princeton/chicago/yale/columbia. nowadays airmail just sets me going like pavlov's dog's bell heh. (i should explain: the only airmail that comes for me nowadays is offers from overseas unis.)
6. attempt to make a white russian when my mom's out. (don't tell her.) that is, if the vodka's still drinkable - i suspect it's cold-war vintage though O.o

[UPDATE: I now have an autographed copy of the logic of life. how insanely cool is that?]

list B: reading

1. tim harford: the logic of life
   
2. thomas pynchon: V
3. ahmadou kourouma: allah is not obliged
4. gabriel garcia marquez: love in the time of cholera

[UPDATE: finished (3), on (1) now]

wk 9/end.

so i'm a "trained soldier" now, whatever in blue blazes that means. had my passing out parade yesterday morning (thank goodness the skies held up; commiserations to cougar, falcon, hawk, jaguar and kestrel companies who had theirs in pouring rain!)

i guess the overwhelming feeling now is one of relief - i've survived 9 weeks in some pretty tough training (though certainly not as tough as some of my friends') and in a pretty unforgiving environment. i certainly didn't thrive on it, but under the circumstances, keeping my sanity and brain intact is certainly a signal achievement. i still write idiomatically, speak coherently, and i haven't gone caveman and lost the skills needed to survive in polite society... like remembering to cover your mouth when you cough or to yawn silently (how easy these little things just slip away unawares). so yes, i've survived.

i'm trying not to be too worried about my posting. it won't be out till the 21st (unlike what we were led to believe - they told us it'd be out yesterday). whatever it is it's out of my hands anyway. it's not like the military is the place for me. and yeah, i'm trying to reassure myself that SISPEC won't be so bad, even though all my friends are almost certainly OCS-bound.

who am i kidding?- i know it'll be an uphill challenge trying to fit in with people i don't know from (the biblical) adam. ohwellscrewit itsonly20moremonths.

on a brighter note, plans for the weekend include YO, dinner, getting pissed, lunch, and a barbecue (if it doesn't rain). w00t!

wk 8/racing forward to oblivion

so wk 8's out and there's just 3 days left - mon-wed. and then i'll find out what the next 20 months (assuming i don't get a psc oms) hold for me.

wk 8... the main event was our route march, that was on tues. 24km of walking, roughly 6 hrs plus, with breaks in between every 4km. at least the skies held up and the weather was ok. tired, aching and pained all over (abrasions are a nightmare) when it was finished, didn't get much sleep either (something like 1:30-5:30). i'm still sleep-deprived from that day - compared to many people i'm a sloth; i need my 7 hours and i can never get them. fell asleep standing up in CO's parade the next day (or was it thurs?)

there was recruits' evening on wed which was utter bullshit and a total waste of time - us noobs putting up performances about bmt life and that kinda rot lah, full of inside jokes and painful, painful, painful depictions of girlfriends and mothers - yeah, fake tits, camo cream for eyeliner, the lot. fuck. yup, the lamentable fact is that lots of guys do turn caveman in bmt. -.- thank goodness there're still people left who have their sanity and decency intact. i could have haemorrhaged; thought it'd never end. i'd rather have had the 4 hours to myself to sleep.

my conception of time is kinda warped from tues... partly the lack of sleep, partly the random free time interspersed with rhsls for our passing out parade, and partly the incoherent scheduling (24km, recruits evening and the parade rhsls all dragged way over time).

fri... some nervy free time in the morning (yup i did some praying too heh) and another parade rhsl which threatened to stretch from the allotted 9-10:20am slot, dangerously close to our bookout time (11am). thank goodness it ended just on time and we sprinted (fine, ran) all the way back to the company line to grab our bags and scoot.

so that's it. i've posted about my results experience alr so won't do it again. didn't get drunk though, unfortunately. had a nice quiet celebration dinner with family... my parents were ridiculously happy as most parents would be =) sat crashing YO was great too... chatting with mr lim, saying hi to mrs wong, working with the nubcaek bassists and all haha. going there and seeing old friends and the dear old fixtures is damn heartwarming. makes me feel like a million bucks. it's that warm fuzzy feeling again.

ahh well. naptime and book in. and 3 days to POP. i'm dreading my posting (it'll be out on wed), i know it'll be a cold day in hell before i get to ocs; i just hope it isn't too ugly. i tried my best, but it's simply not my thing.

fancy another dinner -> southbridge routine on sat, adam? zh's in.

people

ahhh people. strange creatures. i've realised a lot about people, humanity, and friendship over the past half a year. met a lot of people, cultivated a few closer friendships which i've relied on for support... you might be wondering why i'm reflecting on this now, when most are probably still over the moon about their A levels. results are results, they're nice to look at, really nice. but results aren't the alpha and the omega, the be-all and end-all; B's and C's don't make you any less a person, any more than straight A's can save a complete asswipe. even a couple of years from now, no one will care about what grades you got; they're just a few letters thrown up by the singapore-cambridge slot machine of fate; they don't make the person. this is what i feel - i don't deal in empty platitudes.

so here goes... i take a long, long time to warm to people. making friends, talking cock, getting along - these are skills i've not learnt. i make new friends in years, not days or weeks. i'm severely introverted as you'd know. and so throwing me into a new environment with few people i know is bound to throw me out of kilter.

naturally over the last few weeks i've hardly made any new friends. and pissed off a lot of people. i don't suffer fools gladly; and as my definition of fools is wide enough to include myself most days, you can see how that would lead to a whole lot of trouble. i know my sharp tongue and sarcasm has rubbed many people up the wrong way. and of course, i'm under no illusions as to the state of my image in the platoon, or indeed my chances of getting into OCS or anything. (of course i should explain: OCS and - at a stretch - SISPEC are about the only things really worth hoping for in army life, so that your 2 years aren't a complete waste.)

i'm not the type of person who can collect friends like hidden corners collect dust bunnies (like david, for instance) - not that that's a sin! i'm not easy to get along with, and introversion, quietness and keeping to yourself can often be mistaken for arrogance or pride, especially in an rj guy who's never really learnt to get along. basically, to put it very mildly, most of my casual acquaintances think i'm an arsehole. i know many of my classmates in RI and my section in SNYO would have thought that at the start. it's sad, but it's the reality and i'm resigned to it. it's my character and i won't make excuses for who i am.

still... i hope - i'd like to believe, that is - that the friends who know me well, do appreciate me for being the person that i am. for using the word asswipe almost as a term of endearment. for my endless, biting wit cold as a siberian chill. for my pedantry. for obsessively collecting useless knowledge. maybe even for prefering to spend time with books and music than with people. and for showing my friendship in the way that i do, in the only way i know and understand.

i've made very very few good friends. but i suppose i make up in depth what i lack in breadth; i treat them like the siblings i never had - i hope they (you?) feel that way. and when the time comes and they need me, i try my best to repay the favour. i hope over the past couple of days i've done my little bit to help someone sort out his life, when he's done lots to help me out in mine... does that make me a better person in your estimation? and either way, do i care? not very much actually, no.

but yes, i think i'll die happy if i manage to turn a person's life around, for the better. just one, any one, any time in my life. if i can give someone something to live for, to dream about. that honour isn't something you get every day. and when you get the chance you don't - musn't - screw up; if you do it's your own chance you're giving up, it's your chance to prove that you belong up in the ranks with the great do-gooders like Charles Dickens, Florence Nightingale, Oskar Schindler, St. Patrick... it's your chance to earn the right to be called human.

and the rest of us mere mortals can take a flying jump for all i care, because when it comes down to the things that really matter we're worth less than the dust we step on. maybe a bit harsh, but that's what i think.

phew.

ok so we were at the hall. the new principal talked some crap, gave us some stats, no names mentioned...

and then she let the civics tutors carry on with their job, and we waited for ages and ages as sowden congratulated and comforted and consoled everyone... and i couldn't stand it anymore so i cut the queue in front of XY, after daniel ong haha. he gave me this priceless look - slightly tense, worried, eyebrows furrowed (sowden's eyebrows speak volumes. plus they're half greyed, half black, and that adds whole shades of meaning, pardon the pun) - and scared me half-shitless. i was on the edge of the seat; fingers kind of loosely gripping the sides... scared shitless is pretty much it.

then he handed me the slip and broke into a pretty wide grin. and as my eyes rolled down the thing i heaved the most massive sigh of relief i've ever let loose in my life. grinning from ear to ear like a freaking cheshire cat. wow. thank goodness. thank God. (thought i'd never say that, but...)

ok i'll cut to the chase. it's all A's and a distinction for H3 econs. i blinked and they were still there, i pinched and didn't wake up. so it's true.

couldn't have done it without all the teachers - rj's teachers are fantastic, they know their shit, and they really have a knack of coaxing the best out of their students. couldn't have done it without my enthu classmates and friends, who spurred me on and inspired me to work like siao and prove my worth. couldn't have done it without the support of my parents too.

actually i'm wondering how i did it in the first place. but heck... i'm not complaining. hell no.

grats to the lot of you. lots of screams of joy and hugs and all that in the hall... i'm sure lots of people are (as the warrant officers in my company say - can't avoid the apt phrase) "happy like fuck".

i guess now we need to remember friends out there who need our support. and do what duty and friendship demands of us.

-----

i don't know how to truncate this; it wouldn't work otherwise. and i know it's a ridiculously, hilariously common choice, but IMO it doesn't at all diminish the meaning of the poem. it's not one of the world's favourite poems for nothing.

If

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 imposters 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 on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe 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!

-- Rudyard Kipling

just a quickie before i go

in about an hour's time i'll know what my future holds for me. almost.

that's a bloody scary thought.

it really is.

damn.

Sometimes it Happens

And sometimes it happens that you are friends and then
You are not friends,
And friendship has passed.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself.

And sometimes it happens that you are loved and then
You are not loved,
And love is past.
And whole days are lost and among them
A fountain empties itself into the grass.

And sometimes you want to speak to her and then
You do not want to speak,
Then the opportunity has passed.
Your dreams flare up, they suddenly vanish.

And also it happens that there is nowhere to go and then
There is somewhere to go,
Then you have bypassed.
And the years flare up and are gone,
Quicker than a minute.

So you have nothing.
You wonder if these things matter and then
As soon you begin to wonder if these things matter
They cease to matter,
And caring is past.
And a fountain empties itself into the grass.

- Brian Patten

wk 7/night out

ok wk 7 was really slack. we had so much admin time (free time) that my mp3 player ran out of batt on wednesday and i had to change my phone batt on thurs (and i'm not supposed to use either outside of admin time!) in fact there were nights when they basically set us free from 6pm - 10:30pm (that's the standard lights out time). not bad eh?

main stuff in the week was IPPT on mon, and SOC (standard obstacle course) on thurs and fri. failed ippt by 1 chinup, and had to redo the station. after failing chinups i pretty much couldn't give a damn cos i thought we'd have to do the whole thing again, and for my 2.4km i ran with peck for about 100m on my last round (he was on his 5th)... ended up with a timing of 10:23 - decent, though i definitely could have done better, and it was 3 seconds short of the top category (below 10:20). but who cares about tt, i'm sure cheering on a friend is a whole lot more impt. thankfully i passed chinups on tues after quite a bit of self-training on mon.

failed SOC. i just can't do the swing trainer, i haven't got the knack of it and might not be able to for some time yet. got half-way but my feet were alr touching the bottom. i guess i lack the arm-strength and my swinging technique isn't there. oh well, bye bye OCS? it's out of my hands alr anyway.

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my saturday night out was pretty cool. YO to island creamery to raffles city to jazz@southbridge.

crashed YO with jon and zh, we played the shostakovich festival overture and tchaik 5 2nd mvmt. they're coming along pretty well, but i wish they were doing more exciting stuff. sibelius, brahms, nielsen, walton...? then again sibelius has a not entirely undeserved reputation for being impenetrable and boring; nielsen is virtually unknown, more's the pity; brahms is tough on both the performers and the audience; walton's pretty difficult to pull off... maybe i just have something against tchaik; i think lots of his stuff is pretty melodies duct-taped together with tedious, mediocre "development" that really is just changing accompaniment ideas (rhythm or instrumentation usually), tempo or dynamics. take the 2nd movement of his 5th symphony. i think an apt metaphor would be coitus interruptus - go listen to it for yourself, i refuse to elaborate.

after that we landed at island creamery and talked - about NS, what else? it's the only topic of conversation now, sadly - then jon left, and zh and i made our way to raffles city, met up with adam, and us 3 burnt time at the soup spoon, print (cool shop - had an incredible selection of fascinatingly designed but perfectly useless stationary in all colours) and MPH where adam tried unsuccessfully to induce stares from snooty passers-by by holding up pink chick-lit and pretending to read it, and i had better luck by reading and analysing DH Lawrence's poetry aloud - "snake" and some tortoise porn.

i bet you've never heard of tortoise porn; it's actually slightly fascinating in the same morbid way that roadkill, dead cockroaches, or large dubious-looking foreign objects in your food are fascinating. an analysis would be amazing. i swear i was not searching for tortoise porn, i just picked up a huge anthology of the "best poems in the english language" selected by harold bloom, and was flipping through.

[if you want to know more, the poem Tortoise Shout is available on the internet at http://www.kalliope.org/digt.pl?longdid=lawrence2001061709 but i think i'd give it a parental advisory; make sure your parents aren't in the room when you're reading it haha. if you find yourself stimulated by it PLEASE seek professional help immediately - unless you're a tortoise.]

ok jazz@southbridge. fascinating thing, jazz; and it grows better with the night and the alcohol. i had a white russian and a cosmopolitan, cool shit - we're all at the age when everything's turning alcoholic, but i wasn't adventurous enough to get myself sodden or anything, so no embarrassments to relate.

the thing about jazz is that i don't know what to pick on to listen out for. some of it is pretty clear to me - picking out neat variations or riffs on the main theme - but it usually sneaks up on me and i only realise that something exciting's happened about half a minute after it's over. i don't think you'd have understood that last incoherent sentence either so i'll stop. at any rate it was a fun night out, just soaking in the atmosphere and the company.

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go read DH Lawrence's poetry. it's an experience. i'd say M18 though haha. and not for the faint-hearted.