sic transit 2008

It seems inevitable, as 2008 is in its death throes and 2009 is just waiting in the wings ready to pounce on us bewildered mortals, that I should reflect on this year. 2008 has been a momentous year in many ways. Where should I start this? From the beginning, right. (+10 points for stating the bleeding obvious.)

2008 descended on me with a vengeance. I was reeling from events in my personal life and in the family. My mom and I were regular fixtures at my dad's bedside in December and the first few days of January. At the same time I was getting ready for enlistment, submitting university applications, and trying my best to cope with other personal issues that were coming to a head. Well, sure they weren't of quite the same magnitude of a starving Darfur farmer, but they were problems for me which reached right to the core of my person, values and character.

It was a trying period; I still find it hard to look back with complete equanimity. It is impossible to describe the mix of feelings that I experienced during that period. My reflections on 2007 are probably a product of that tortured state of mind I was in. I was angry, and angsty, and couldn't be sure of anyone to turn to, or what the future had for me.

BMT was a whirl of events. I must admit, I passed many nights awake till late, thinking, reflecting, but mostly hating myself and despairing at my situation; I did cry, lots, mostly at night, though I hope no one noticed. I hardly knew what was going on, I was quite unprepared, lost, and didn't even stop to think. Friendships and even normal social interactions were squeezed to quick flashes of recognition; days would pass without familiar faces. I was quite lost at the attitudes of those around me and my immediate superiors as I tried to adapt; I only realised later that they, too, didn't really know how best to handle 50 new, blur-kok recruits. New friends were hard to come by; I'm not a great one for talking cock or anything, nor was I even in the mood for it, with things at home and in my head in a mess. The support of friends and people around me was the only thing that kept me going. Thanks are especially due to David, Daniel, Wally and Peck, without whom I would've gone mad. 

For my friends going in next year, who have no idea what to expect, just remember that your BMT sergeants and PCs are only a year or two older, doing their NS and probably hating it about as much as you!

A Level results came out on 7th March - I'm happy that I was able to make my dad proud, I guess for the last time - and my passing-out parade (POP) was on the 12th I believe. In the intervening few days my dad was hospitalised – I only found out after I got home from POP. It was a crazy roller-coaster ride of emotions. The next 2 weeks were spent shuttling back and forth from SGH, watching his condition slowly deteriorate.

We saw the best and worst of people then, at the hospital, and later at the wake and funeral; who was genuinely concerned, who was only standing around for appearances and would rather be elsewhere. For those of you who'll ever visit an ill friend, relative or acquaintance, please remember: it's glaringly obvious.

I don't want to dwell on this period. It's still raw. Just 10 days after my dad died, I managed to book out of camp for an interview for the HDB scholarship (thank goodness for those scholarship interviews, I booked out 8 times because of them!), checked my email and found out I got a place and a financial aid award to Yale. It was very unexpected; I got rejected by Chicago on 16th March, and the Princeton and Columbia emails came just the day before; these were incredibly demoralising and I'd all but given up hope already. I'd spent the least time and effort on my Yale app too. I was over the moon; needless to say from that point onwards I kept my scholarship applications alive only for the sake of booking out of camp! If the PSC OMS had come along I might just have been tempted by Mammon, but as fate would have it, it didn't so I wasn't. There wasn't much chance anyhow. I only wish papa could've known.

BSLC passed in a blur; so did CESC. 21 weeks of fatigue, ennui, angst and outfield and I got my rank (3SG), my salary ($710) and most importantly my admin job. It's a relief to be sitting in an office; though it gets boring and tedious, it does beat going outfield and the tedium of bunk and training. I do miss the gratuitous lying in the grass that is much of the field camp experience, but no I won't trade, ha. It gets lonely, but I get by. I can't really be arsed to care very much; I used to think I was a failure, so many friends getting through OCS and me stuck on a lower plane of existence, but hell, people are only human, and myself more than most. Compared with what you're going to do with the rest of your life, these 22 months are nothing.

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I've grown emotionally too, this year. First from grief, then from dejection and depression, and then from someone who was then, and still is, special to me. That's another raw spot that'll never heal; sure it'll scab over but inevitably something will remind me and then it'll be bleeding all over the place again. If it sounds pathetic, yeah it probably is, actually. But so are all of us, in some way or other. If you're not pathetic in some way or other do get in touch with me, I would very much like to meet you.

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And most importantly, there are friends. This year I've realised that more than anything else, I get by with the help of my friends, people who spare a kind thought and word. We all have our crosses to bear, but there are those who help make the burden that bit lighter, and keep us going. Adam and Zhaohan, the A to Z of my phone book. ZH I've lost track of the number of drinks you claim to owe me, but I owe you lots more than drinks. You've been a constant, true friend. If you weren't there for me, I would have crashed and burned, bad. And my phone bill for July wouldn't have hit 80 freaking bucks haha.

Adam, I'll spare you all that emo shit cos I know you hate it, but thanks. We'll get drunk together someday, alright?

Remus, lil bro, you've been unfailingly good-spirited and understanding. The only thing I hate about you is that you're taller than me, damn it!

Shanghui, thanks. I owe you.

I could go on, but this isn't a freaking Oscar speech. Just want to thank all those of you (too many!) who've stuck around me and comforted me in bad times. I will never be able to repay all of you that debt of gratitude.

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And I'd like to end off invoking the traditional Auld Lang Syne. I've added a loose translation into English because the original Scotch lyrics always left me stumped (I'm sure many of you - I don't know any native Scotch speakers! - have felt the same).

Auld Lang Syne
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

For Old Time's Sake
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old times since?

For old time's sake, my dear,
for old time's sake,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for old time's sake.

Here's wishing all of you out there a better 2009 than the 2008 we've left behind!

PS: Do hit the comments link and say hi or something... I'd love to see who stalks me, besides the usual suspects =D