After revealing my devil's horns as a compulsive football gambler, I shall be shameless and admit that I had betted on Argentina to win tonight. After watching most of the first round matches and keeping up with the relevant scores,
Argentina is really the best team in the tournament so far.
The way they played epitomised how football should be after all. Keeping the ball on the ground, neat (i.e. short and quick) passes, always running and supporting one another, intelligent flicks, willingness to take on defenders in the box, and clinical finishing.
All shining examples of excellent technique and brilliant teamwork.
Like Greece who won the 2004 European Championships, Argentina also played to win. But that was where their similarities ended. Greece was a low class team which played negative football. Their priority was not to concede, and were not afraid to clear balls shamelessly back at the opponents. Keeping possession of the ball had never been their priority. They did not have the maturity and technique to do that anyway. They relied on set pieces to carve out their winners. The Czech Republic and Portugal were entertaining sides which played attractive attacking football. It was a real anguish for them to bow out in similar fashions to low class Greek corners. If you had not realised by now,
I hated Greek football to the core.
To be fair to them, the style of stifling and camping was a natural tactic for less accomplished teams against better opponents. I was guilty of employing that tactic during my stint as captain for my hall team. I had instructed my team to play just like that against TH, the defending champions. Although we did win eventually with a score of 1-0, and celebrated as if we had won the world cup, I knew football should not be played that way in my capacity as a football fan with a conscience.
Whatever we do in life should be proactive and positive, and not passive and negative. We should not be afraid of failure, because from the mistakes made we will learn to improve ourselves.
The Greek triumph plunged world football into dispair. Everyone saw for themselves the pragmatic worth of negative football and began emulating them in their teams. The popular formation of 4-4-2 was soon to be replaced by 4-5-1 in many leagues in the world, most notably the EPL. Chelski led the revolution, with their team built by Morinho worshipping the 4-5-1 religion. A solid defence coupled with a destructive defensive mid would starve the opponents of any chances. They would then attack on the counter and pump those long balls for the lone strong striker to chase.
Minimal risk, maximal capitalisation.
The mother fuckers of football. Even Man U had to change and adapt to that style. Gone were the days of Ferguson's huge successful 4-4-2 with two black dogs in front (Andy Cole and Dwight Yorke). The Man U of late was spotted with a 4-5-1 as well, with Van Nisterooy playing the lone strong striker up front too. Of course there were teams which played with attacking formations and styles like Barcelona and Arsenal. I was only trying to make the point that the trend was shifting towards 4-5-1 and negative football thanks to the Greeks.
Even Arsenal changed to 4-5-1 in Champions League 05/06 to impress with their 10 game run without conceding a goal.
Fine, I had been too judgemental here. It would be tactically unwise to risk opening up precious space and inviting the counter attacks by adopting an all out gungho style of play. This tactical imprudence would escalate to a disaster if the opponents are stronger than you. Examples?
Try asking Singapore to play an all out attacking style against Brazil and see what will happen.
Since the bulk of the world are teams lacking in calibre, it definitely warms the heart when a team of true pedigree like the current Argentina squad showed the world how football should be played.
Some frightening statistics. Argentina scored all of their 8 goals (so far) IN THE PENALTY BOX, and all were by foot. None of their goals were created by high balls.
One aspect of their game which totally impressed me, was how they perfected the triangles. It wasn't difficult to spot those beautiful triangles sprawled all over the pitch in whatever positions. Whenever Heinze got the ball, Sorin would spread wide and Cambiasso would back track. 1 triangle. Similarly for the other side, Ayala would be supported by Mascherano and Burdisso. Once either of the centre mids got the ball, midfield ace Riquelme would drift slight between them to form yet another triangle. If Riquelme had his back facing his own goal, he would just lay it back for the ball to be sprayed wide until the opponents would be drawn out. IF he received the ball facing the opponent's goal, the 2 strikers Saviola and Crespo would support to form the final triangle. If Riquelme manages to thread a through pass to either one of them,
Good game.
But why all the fuss about triangles? Not considering degenerate digons (i.e. straight lines), triangles are the polygons with the least number of sides. This means that they are easy to form (3 vertices equals to 3 players. Minimal waste of manpower), and allow the ball to cover a lot of ground in the least number of passes (Only need 2 passes to cover the rest of the vertices).
The prowess of the Argentines with their triangles do not lie. The second goal against Serbia and Montenegro was a classic. 24 passes leading up to that goal which Cambiasso finished it off with the simplest of touches.
That goal alone was enough for me to root for them all the way in this world cup. La Albicelestes.
The White and Sky Blue.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Sweden versus Paraguay
Many would doubt why I had expressed interest in such a low profile match, especially when it did not involve the seeded or high profile teams like England or Brazil. However, the bulk of the first round games were low class shit. The only good games decidedly were Poland vs Ecuador, Argentina vs Ivory Coast, and Australia vs Japan. The English games were so boring and lousy that I had difficulty keeping awake. Brazil were also playing more of European football than their world renowned samba.
Determined not to waste time watching lousy games, I scoured second round fixtures for a truly entertaining game.
Sweden versus Paraguay fitted the bill, since both teams needed a win to keep their world cup hopes alive. Enough ingredient to make the match a genuine contest.
That made me stay up this morning to catch the match live on RTM 1.
Right from the first whistle, Sweden made their intentions very clear. From their sense of urgency and shoot on sight policy, the Paraguayans would be idiots if they had not figured out what was in Swedish minds.
There was certainly no lack of creativity about Sweden, with most of the good things flowing from Ljungberg and Kim Kallstrom, who had been restored to the side by coach Lars Lagerback.
Just 15 minutes into the game, Kallstrom struck a fantastic left-footed shot from 25 yards after picking up Ibrahimovic's chested pass but Aldo Bobadilla pulled off a tremendous diving save. It was such a pity that a good shot like that could not go in.
10 minutes later Kallstrom stuck again. He drove in a thunderous volley from 30 yards that was too high but sparked an impressive Mexican wave from the 72,000 fans, overwhelmingly Swedish, in the Olympic Stadium.
Kallstrom was beginning to make his mark in the game.
On the 32nd minute, Sweden almost paid the price for their lack of poor finishing in front of goal. Paraguay finally created a decent chance but Roque Santa Cruz snatched at his shot from the edge of the box and watched the ball fly wide.
His strike partner Nelson Valdez then tried his luck but was no closer with a wild volley. Valdez was one of the few Paraguayan players who truly earned my respect. Against the English, he continued to cover every blade of grass on the pitch industriously despite his conspicuous shag face.
Without taking a drink every now and then unlike the English muti millionaire stars. Fucking wimps.
Tonight again Valdez showed why he was worth the accoladates showered upon him. If there was Paraguayan who deserved to score tonight, it must be him.
On the contrary the Swedish star Zlatan Ibrahimovic was playing football which was bereft of his pedigree and pre match hype. He never looked like he was ever going to threaten the Paraguayan defence. All his contributions was to control the long balls and lay off to others. No dribbles, no through passes.
No courage to try.
Determined not to waste time watching lousy games, I scoured second round fixtures for a truly entertaining game.
Sweden versus Paraguay fitted the bill, since both teams needed a win to keep their world cup hopes alive. Enough ingredient to make the match a genuine contest.
That made me stay up this morning to catch the match live on RTM 1.
Right from the first whistle, Sweden made their intentions very clear. From their sense of urgency and shoot on sight policy, the Paraguayans would be idiots if they had not figured out what was in Swedish minds.
There was certainly no lack of creativity about Sweden, with most of the good things flowing from Ljungberg and Kim Kallstrom, who had been restored to the side by coach Lars Lagerback.
Just 15 minutes into the game, Kallstrom struck a fantastic left-footed shot from 25 yards after picking up Ibrahimovic's chested pass but Aldo Bobadilla pulled off a tremendous diving save. It was such a pity that a good shot like that could not go in.
10 minutes later Kallstrom stuck again. He drove in a thunderous volley from 30 yards that was too high but sparked an impressive Mexican wave from the 72,000 fans, overwhelmingly Swedish, in the Olympic Stadium.
Kallstrom was beginning to make his mark in the game.
On the 32nd minute, Sweden almost paid the price for their lack of poor finishing in front of goal. Paraguay finally created a decent chance but Roque Santa Cruz snatched at his shot from the edge of the box and watched the ball fly wide.
His strike partner Nelson Valdez then tried his luck but was no closer with a wild volley. Valdez was one of the few Paraguayan players who truly earned my respect. Against the English, he continued to cover every blade of grass on the pitch industriously despite his conspicuous shag face.
Without taking a drink every now and then unlike the English muti millionaire stars. Fucking wimps.
Tonight again Valdez showed why he was worth the accoladates showered upon him. If there was Paraguayan who deserved to score tonight, it must be him.
On the contrary the Swedish star Zlatan Ibrahimovic was playing football which was bereft of his pedigree and pre match hype. He never looked like he was ever going to threaten the Paraguayan defence. All his contributions was to control the long balls and lay off to others. No dribbles, no through passes.
No courage to try.
He was deservedly substituted at the break with Marcus Allback, once of Aston Villa.
Paraguay never gave up although Sweden had the bulk of the possession and decent chances. But it was them who threatened first to break the deadlock with Nelson Valdez again turning away from two defenders before hammering the ball into the side-netting.
Valdez drove wide again after turning past Olof Mellberg, then Bobadilla turned aside Larsson's fierce free-kick after Ljungberg had been felled right on the edge of the box.
Roberto Acuna sent a low strike thudding into Isaksson's arms, before a poor offside decision saw Kallstrom halted with the goal at his mercy.
Finally at the 70th minute mark, I thought the game had been settled. Sweden thought they had done it when Tobias Linderoth's ball over the top caught Paraguay flat-footed, and
Allback had chipped the ball over the oncoming keeper!!!
He had an empty goal all to his mercy with the ball destined to land inside the it. Surely this must break the deadlock. However as complacency descended upon him, his lack of the urgency to confirm the goal invited the chance for Caniza to arrive in the nick of time to acrobatically hook the ball off the line.
What a let off for Paraguay.
That gave a sucker punch to Sweden in the stomach, for all that they were worth for in the rest of the match was to return the ball back to a resolute Paraguayan team with 10 men behind the it. No way would they be able to penetrate a Paraguayan team awoke by that screamer of a lob minutes before. Sweden just could not score in this world cup, despite being one of the most prolific teams in the European qualifying campaigns.
Just as all seemed lost, salvation arrived with two minutes left for the Swedes, thanks greatly to substitute Johan Elmander who delivered a peach of a cross to Allback at the far post.
He unselfishly chose to head the ball back across the six-yard box rather than go for goal himself. Ljungberg saw it and gratefully arrived in the nick of time to direct a header into the net!
GOAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
With less than 5 minutes of playing time left (including extra time), the game was good as over. It had been a great match. Lots of tension, lots of passion, lots of fustration, and finally euphoria at the dead to eradicate any possibility of an anticlimax. I had not stayed up in vain. Most importantly,
I can collect my winnings from the betting outlet later :)
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Simple Man, Simple Life.
Given the month long holiday derived from clearing leave, my blog ought to be flourishing. Unfortunately the contrary was true. I had ample of time but the same could not be said for my inspirations. A blog drought would be an appropriate term to explain this phenomenon.
Comfort dulls the mind indeed.
There were more pressing things to be done in place of blogging. My NUS transcript had to be prepared before I start work in NIE, my passport to be renewed, unpack my duffel bag... Those were considered chores.
Comfort dulls the mind indeed.
There were more pressing things to be done in place of blogging. My NUS transcript had to be prepared before I start work in NIE, my passport to be renewed, unpack my duffel bag... Those were considered chores.
As for leisure activities, I rented books to decorate my table, and met up with friends whom otherwise I seldom got the chance to. (Tuesday dinner with Bollocks, Wednesday K box with hostel friends, Friday dinner with Math Honours classmates, Saturday lunch with my Godsister.) In between those I went shopping with mum and had dinner at Crystal Jade with my sister (real one) and her boyfriend. I had also brought my brother to watch X-Men at Tiong Bahru GV.
Those were my exploits away from home.
As for the other weeks spent at home, I lived life like a wastrel. I no longer wake up at 0600 hours. My actual waking hours would be 5 hours later or so. I eat 2 meals a day (Brunch and Dinner), and I don't exercise. On certain days at my disgusting best, I would play dota from lunch till bed time!
In case anyone thought I was the ultimate loafer around, the saving grace was that I became a MR.
MR as in MaRia.
Maria Khoo would wash the bowls and plates after the meals, vacuum and mop the floor, buy lunch for his brother, keep and fold the laundry, and PACK THE MESSY ROOM (Pigsty) which once belonged to me but was desecrated by my stupid brother over the years I spent away from home.
Let me dwell into the life of Maria.
#1. Wash Bowls.
Soap the forks and spoons first, and wash them off with water above the bowls. The water collected could be used to rinse the other crockery, thus saving water. Soap the crockery and then wash with water. The clean water from the final wash was then poured into a pail for storage.
#2. Vacuuming + Mopping the Floor.
After becoming a pro with brooms from area cleanings in the morning, a vacuum cleaner was a god send! The floor became so much cleaner and easier to clean!
Do not mop the floor WITHOUT ordering KSH (my brother's intials) to wash his feet, unless you want black footprints to emblazon the path where the mighty one once walked.
Tips for homemakers to be : 1 cupful of mop solution in a pail would create too much foam to mop the floor effectively. 1/2 a cup would wonderful.
#3. Brunch
To save money, I stock up on cereals and milk for breakfast. However when my stock got depleted by the freeloader, he would preempt my money saving attempts by dialling for Macdonald breakfast... (Now I know how $10 notes grow wings.)
The Cai Fan (assorted rice) at the kopi tiam downstairs sells for $2.70 for 1 meat, 1 egg, and 1 vege. Not a bad deal for the convenience. But my personal favourite would still be the lasi lemak stall at Tanjong Pagar Hawker Centre. $2.00 for a big packet of rice and meat!
#4. Folding and Keeping Laundry
Just don't fold them like SAF number 4 can already, because there are no ranks, name tags, and guards tabs to display in a ziploc bag or in the cupboard for any black man to see. I would hang my clothes in my cupboard neatly, and throw KSH's ones all over the floor.
#5. PACK THE FUSTRATING ROOM.
Pictures say a thousand words. When I first took over the room after returning from the army, it looked like this:
There was very little space left to maneuver, bed sheets were not laid, and the study table was filled with rubbish instead of books. KSH had abused the table until it became a storage place for his Gundam models instead of a place for him to do his work.
I had to plan a massive refurbishing to rectify the intolerable. Walking space was scarce, and dust was collecting on his trash which were unmoved for years! I had enough of this nonsense. My room was supposed to be a place of comfort satisfying a whole range of purposes like providing a good sleeping environment, training ground for my dribbling skills, exercise area, and study haven.
KSH had ruined them all.
I got down to work immediately. Fortunately SK training in SAF had helped me become more robust towards sickening chores. Synonymous with the ritual that signified my determined intentions at the start of any endeavour,
I took off my shirt and flexed my muscles.
The table (as well as his bag loads of Gundam models) had to go. Easier said than done. The table was too large for the door, and had to be disassembled into its original components for disposal.
For a guy like me with little patience, the fuss of unscrewing all the bolts and nuts was too much to take. I picked up karate on the spot and smashed the fragile wooden planks into halves. That really sped things up and freed up acres of spaces. Then came the unenviable task of arranging his old textbooks properly and folding his clothes that were sprawled all over the place.
Finally after much hard work, my room looked a lot better! Isn't that wonderful?
Just as I was rejoicing...
The monster wreaked havoc again!
I should have known better. Who could resist the temptation to mess up a newly packed room? (Especially it was the from the painstaking efforts of his brother.)
As I stood there shell shocked and close to tears, the state of my room a direct reflection of my mood.
Back to work as usual...
Finally, my room is neater and tidier than before!
I had to be fair to my much maligned brother. The previous 4 pictures were posed (Beginning from the one with KSH in it). I was the one who messed up the room and took a picture of it. I was the one who asked my brother to strike that silly pose. I was the one who pretended to be the mature and sensible brother folding the blanket.
Both of us had nothing better to do, so we decided to have some fun by messing up the room. It had been a years since I had so much fun with KSH. He had been a P4 kid when I first left home for army, and now he is a towering sec 3 adolescent (I'm still taller than you ok!) So glad to have him hanging around during my leave. Home alone for 1 month would be unbearable.
However, it was a real chore motivating him to study during his hols.
In the end I gave up trying. He had been working hard during school to be fair. Let him have some rest and slack for a couple of weeks.
Ideally for me, one month of slacking would apt. Anything longer than that and I would reproach myself for being a bum. Anything shorter and the effect of a rest would not be felt.
As this month draws to a close, I would have to gear myself up for many things. A new life in the working world, and of course the world cup! I would miss this holiday for a long time to come. Not only because I was a simple man living a simple life, but
My life had been brilliant.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Why Do We Fall Down?
Today my sunday league team went into our fourth game of the season on a high. We were on the top of the table with maximum points. 3 wins out of 3. Deep down inside each of us before the game started, we knew we wanted to win today's game as well, and we were quietly confident we could.
But whoever up there had other plans.
The first half which was below par considered our usual standards. We had created not only more chances than the opponent, but also the closer among the two teams. We had more corners and freekicks than them. We had slightly more possession than them. But we also had our woeful finishing to blame.
The half ended 0-0.
There was a need to up another gear in the second half if we still harboured any hopes of winning this game. We did just that after the restart. Starting brightly, Ah Koh (our striker) connected with Teck's (left winger) perfect cross without a complementing header from our first attack. That signalled our intentions without doubt as to who wanted the game more.
Unfortunately, it had to happen.
Still tied in a deadlock after 20 minutes into the second half, they had a counter attack from one of our corners. Their centre half sprayed the ball to their left wing, who squared the ball across our defence to their striker. I had positioned myself ideally such that I was able to cut out the square ball within one step in front of me and yet not compromising the space behind my right back in case their winger wanted to take him on. I would be there to sweep either ball or man if he tried to push the ball past my player.
As I had said earlier, he chose the safe option and passed a square ball across our defence. That was within my anticipation. All I had to do was perform an usual drill used so many times over the years.
Dig my right boot behind me, push my body forward, and stretch out my left foot to block the ball coming from the right.
It was not a very difficult maneuver, if not I would not even have thought of using it on a league game. Simple was always the best. And yet to my horror, instead of having a firm grip on the ground, my right boot slipped and toppled my balance.
I fell flat on my face.
As I watched the ball trickle nicely to the striker for a shot so helplessly on the ground, I knew chances of it going in was high. My keeper came out to reduce the angle, but it was too little too late. The shot had beaten him.
The first thing I had to do after I go on my feet was to pick up the ball from the net.
Honestly that slip was tragic. It changed the momentum of the game and killed off much of our spirit. It had even damaged my pride to a large extent. All defenders hate to concede goals, and hate even more to commit mistakes that lead to a goal directly. I was guilty of all of the above. I had a fairly good game before that incident. Why a sudden surge of bad luck and caused me to slip? If I had conceded a goal due to not reading the game well I would have felt less exasperated. But something so inexplicable as a slip... If there was a God, I would have raised my middle finger firmly towards and sky and let him know my opinion of him.
"Fuck you God! Haven't you got eyes? Can't you see we don't deserve this shit?"
I was clearly devastated. But somehow I just did not give up on the game. Fuelled by thoughts of "my team had nothing to lose and I could not do anything more stupid than that" in this game, I got more reckless and aggressive. I vented my fustration on the legs of those whoever dared to bring the ball near my tackling radius. I slided whoever I didn't like. (Everyone in fact). No long balls would sail over my head. I returned anything they probed into our defence back with first time headers and clearances. (I didn't have the mind to control the ball and pass to my team mates.)
Even the opponent grew wary of me. They stopped attacking down the centre and tried more of the wings. No use. Ah Lang the possessed wolf was unfatiguable. He just hounded and bit anyone who dared to try him.
In the end he stopped their attacks single-handedly, but he also destroyed his team's attacking play single-handedly. The ball just shifted from their defence to Ah Lang and back. No one was playing other than them and Ah Lang. Nothing was played except for long balls and clearances.
How to attack like that?
Somehow I still believed God existed and God is fair. Clutching my remaining bits and pieces of faith, I screamed a prayer right then.
"If you had eyes, if you are not blind, can you show me some justice?"
Just as I finished, the ball trickled to me from a deflection. For the first time in the game, I did something constructive with the ball. I stopped it and made a clean pass to my right wing (who also happened to be my captain). He seemed to fully understand my intentions, and reciprocated the favour by swivelling his marker and laid a through ball for our striker. He latched onto the through ball and dashed into the penalty box. Two defenders closed him down and maliciously brought him down. You do not have to be an idiot to know he was not diving. His feet was hooked by the defenders. The ref immediately blew his whistle and pointed to the spot.
Penalty!
Our star player (the left wing) stepped up and blasted it to the right, but not without sending him the wrong way in the process.
Somehow the game stagnanted after the penalty. Our defence virtually closed shop by the converting our defensive mid into a stopper. 4 of us plus a sweeper just kept sending the ball back to them first time. The opponents were physically tired as well and their body language suggested a reluctance to attack. The only saving grace was that our wingers and strikers were still diligently chasing down all our long balls and carving out chances of their own. They believed that the goal was a sign to follow up with more, while the defence took it as a sign to close shop.
Finally the whistle went, and the score ended at 1-1. It was a fair result. Both sides deserved something from this game. Despite comforting words from my friends telling me that "we couldn't blame the defence for everything, the goal shy attack was at fault too", "it wasn't my fault", and "a slip was just bad luck, not a mistake", I knew I had to bear some responsibility for it.
We never know when we will take a stumble and fall in life. Sometimes we could see it coming, sometimes we couldn't. And sometimes when we thought we had things well-planned, well-covered, and firmly under control, we could still end up landing on our backsides. The important thing is not to do whatever we can to prevent it, because that will be impossible. We do not have a crystall ball to help us see the future. In fact when it had to happen, it will happen no matter what we do to try prevent it.
The important thing is what we do after we took a tumble.
As I recalled from my captain the things he told me so many times after I had made mistakes during a game,
"Su Lang Mai Su Seh."
Which literally meant you can lose the game but never your pride. Don't make your opponents lose their respect for you when you give up on yourself. Make yourself worthy opponents to others. And of course,
Never give up fighting.
"Ah Lang, don't give up when we are only one goal down. Ji liap nia, must always believe we can come back into the game. Show them what you got!"
Of course his intentions were not to psych me up into the mad tackling man which I became, not to kill their legs, but just to make my presense felt by sticking closer to the man. And don't try risky stuff like intercepting the ball.
Despite the all the unhappiness surrounding that slip, I finally realised why God made that happen. In that brief few minutes while I was playing like a possessed man, I saw through my own eyes the player I was in the past which earned me my nickname "Ah Lang". Ah Lang simply meant "The Wolf", who would hound and bite whoever dared to venture into his territory. The way I played in the past was someone who would chase down any striker or winger and give them bone crunching tackles for their own good.
Seeing Ah Lang play now is a sad story of the past. His tackles had deserted him. Fear of making mistakes had fashioned him into a cautious defender who would only track endlessly without making a single tackle even when he had a clear chance to. Quite simple, a wolf which did not bite. No teeth. "Bo Gay".
God wasn't trying to tell me to play recklessly and injure others. All the more he did not want me to commit opponents aimlessly all the time and lose my position.
All he wanted me to do was to be myself.
The Ah Lang who would tackle to win balls, tackle to stop opponents, tackle to stamp his authority, but never tackle to injure. Ah Lang was always able to end his trackings with a tired opponent stopping to pause for a breath. And while the loser stopped to weigh his options, that Ah Lang tackle would come.
That was how I played in the past which made me enjoy football so much.
If we do not fall down,
How would we ever grow?
But whoever up there had other plans.
The first half which was below par considered our usual standards. We had created not only more chances than the opponent, but also the closer among the two teams. We had more corners and freekicks than them. We had slightly more possession than them. But we also had our woeful finishing to blame.
The half ended 0-0.
There was a need to up another gear in the second half if we still harboured any hopes of winning this game. We did just that after the restart. Starting brightly, Ah Koh (our striker) connected with Teck's (left winger) perfect cross without a complementing header from our first attack. That signalled our intentions without doubt as to who wanted the game more.
Unfortunately, it had to happen.
Still tied in a deadlock after 20 minutes into the second half, they had a counter attack from one of our corners. Their centre half sprayed the ball to their left wing, who squared the ball across our defence to their striker. I had positioned myself ideally such that I was able to cut out the square ball within one step in front of me and yet not compromising the space behind my right back in case their winger wanted to take him on. I would be there to sweep either ball or man if he tried to push the ball past my player.
As I had said earlier, he chose the safe option and passed a square ball across our defence. That was within my anticipation. All I had to do was perform an usual drill used so many times over the years.
Dig my right boot behind me, push my body forward, and stretch out my left foot to block the ball coming from the right.
It was not a very difficult maneuver, if not I would not even have thought of using it on a league game. Simple was always the best. And yet to my horror, instead of having a firm grip on the ground, my right boot slipped and toppled my balance.
I fell flat on my face.
As I watched the ball trickle nicely to the striker for a shot so helplessly on the ground, I knew chances of it going in was high. My keeper came out to reduce the angle, but it was too little too late. The shot had beaten him.
The first thing I had to do after I go on my feet was to pick up the ball from the net.
Honestly that slip was tragic. It changed the momentum of the game and killed off much of our spirit. It had even damaged my pride to a large extent. All defenders hate to concede goals, and hate even more to commit mistakes that lead to a goal directly. I was guilty of all of the above. I had a fairly good game before that incident. Why a sudden surge of bad luck and caused me to slip? If I had conceded a goal due to not reading the game well I would have felt less exasperated. But something so inexplicable as a slip... If there was a God, I would have raised my middle finger firmly towards and sky and let him know my opinion of him.
"Fuck you God! Haven't you got eyes? Can't you see we don't deserve this shit?"
I was clearly devastated. But somehow I just did not give up on the game. Fuelled by thoughts of "my team had nothing to lose and I could not do anything more stupid than that" in this game, I got more reckless and aggressive. I vented my fustration on the legs of those whoever dared to bring the ball near my tackling radius. I slided whoever I didn't like. (Everyone in fact). No long balls would sail over my head. I returned anything they probed into our defence back with first time headers and clearances. (I didn't have the mind to control the ball and pass to my team mates.)
Even the opponent grew wary of me. They stopped attacking down the centre and tried more of the wings. No use. Ah Lang the possessed wolf was unfatiguable. He just hounded and bit anyone who dared to try him.
In the end he stopped their attacks single-handedly, but he also destroyed his team's attacking play single-handedly. The ball just shifted from their defence to Ah Lang and back. No one was playing other than them and Ah Lang. Nothing was played except for long balls and clearances.
How to attack like that?
Somehow I still believed God existed and God is fair. Clutching my remaining bits and pieces of faith, I screamed a prayer right then.
"If you had eyes, if you are not blind, can you show me some justice?"
Just as I finished, the ball trickled to me from a deflection. For the first time in the game, I did something constructive with the ball. I stopped it and made a clean pass to my right wing (who also happened to be my captain). He seemed to fully understand my intentions, and reciprocated the favour by swivelling his marker and laid a through ball for our striker. He latched onto the through ball and dashed into the penalty box. Two defenders closed him down and maliciously brought him down. You do not have to be an idiot to know he was not diving. His feet was hooked by the defenders. The ref immediately blew his whistle and pointed to the spot.
Penalty!
Our star player (the left wing) stepped up and blasted it to the right, but not without sending him the wrong way in the process.
Somehow the game stagnanted after the penalty. Our defence virtually closed shop by the converting our defensive mid into a stopper. 4 of us plus a sweeper just kept sending the ball back to them first time. The opponents were physically tired as well and their body language suggested a reluctance to attack. The only saving grace was that our wingers and strikers were still diligently chasing down all our long balls and carving out chances of their own. They believed that the goal was a sign to follow up with more, while the defence took it as a sign to close shop.
Finally the whistle went, and the score ended at 1-1. It was a fair result. Both sides deserved something from this game. Despite comforting words from my friends telling me that "we couldn't blame the defence for everything, the goal shy attack was at fault too", "it wasn't my fault", and "a slip was just bad luck, not a mistake", I knew I had to bear some responsibility for it.
We never know when we will take a stumble and fall in life. Sometimes we could see it coming, sometimes we couldn't. And sometimes when we thought we had things well-planned, well-covered, and firmly under control, we could still end up landing on our backsides. The important thing is not to do whatever we can to prevent it, because that will be impossible. We do not have a crystall ball to help us see the future. In fact when it had to happen, it will happen no matter what we do to try prevent it.
The important thing is what we do after we took a tumble.
As I recalled from my captain the things he told me so many times after I had made mistakes during a game,
"Su Lang Mai Su Seh."
Which literally meant you can lose the game but never your pride. Don't make your opponents lose their respect for you when you give up on yourself. Make yourself worthy opponents to others. And of course,
Never give up fighting.
"Ah Lang, don't give up when we are only one goal down. Ji liap nia, must always believe we can come back into the game. Show them what you got!"
Of course his intentions were not to psych me up into the mad tackling man which I became, not to kill their legs, but just to make my presense felt by sticking closer to the man. And don't try risky stuff like intercepting the ball.
Despite the all the unhappiness surrounding that slip, I finally realised why God made that happen. In that brief few minutes while I was playing like a possessed man, I saw through my own eyes the player I was in the past which earned me my nickname "Ah Lang". Ah Lang simply meant "The Wolf", who would hound and bite whoever dared to venture into his territory. The way I played in the past was someone who would chase down any striker or winger and give them bone crunching tackles for their own good.
Seeing Ah Lang play now is a sad story of the past. His tackles had deserted him. Fear of making mistakes had fashioned him into a cautious defender who would only track endlessly without making a single tackle even when he had a clear chance to. Quite simple, a wolf which did not bite. No teeth. "Bo Gay".
God wasn't trying to tell me to play recklessly and injure others. All the more he did not want me to commit opponents aimlessly all the time and lose my position.
All he wanted me to do was to be myself.
The Ah Lang who would tackle to win balls, tackle to stop opponents, tackle to stamp his authority, but never tackle to injure. Ah Lang was always able to end his trackings with a tired opponent stopping to pause for a breath. And while the loser stopped to weigh his options, that Ah Lang tackle would come.
That was how I played in the past which made me enjoy football so much.
If we do not fall down,
How would we ever grow?
Friday, May 19, 2006
Last Day In Camp
Today was my last working day in camp, but the irony was that I did not realise it until after lunch time. I hafd been under the impression that my last day was going to be next Tuesday (23/05/2006) because that was the earliest my leave allowed. But by some fortuitous twist of fate, I was able to bring forward my last day to today.
Lucky decision #1:
On my way back to bunk after lunch, I had decided to follow Jit into the office instead of proceeding straight to the lift usually. Goodness knew why I had decided to follow him. Maybe because I had a hunch that he was going to look for his favourite "Oregano Pasta with Chicken", which I would love to try a mouthful or two. To my dismay, his purpose was to enjoy the air con instead of combat rations. And so as we were lingering in the office, I overheard some heated discussion in the Matrix.
Being the ultimate kay-poh, I rushed there immediately.
Initially I thought such a commotion could only be caused by earth shattering news like the death of our brigade RSM or someone within the company was getting married. Unfortunately it was anything but interesting, a low class case of a few troopers TRYING to bargain with our PC about their leave before they disrupt for their studies. Since that was nothing of my concern, the office no longer held any points of interest to me. I am going back to bunk to sleep.
"Shun Chih, you need to submit your leave plan again because I had misplaced it."
That outburst from my PC 2LT Cavin suddenly got me involved with them. How did my flawless plan done over many painstaking nights got misplaced? Did that mean my ambitions (i.e. World Cup on TV) would be affected? Out of a state of helplessness, I scrambled around the office to redo my plan.
Lucky decision #2:
Sitting at the COS table to redo my plan was perhaps the most crucially correct decision ever made in my entire SAF life. It was at that table which I learnt from 3SG Cheng Yee and Cresens that I could actually gain an extra 2 days for my leave! Despite my vast experience in the army, skiving was one art which I not mastered. After hearing what they had to offer, I realised right on the spot that my Bachelor of Science with Honours (Mathematics) ought to be torn to pieces for ass wiping purposes.
Cheng Yee : "You do not have to clear leave on your ORD date. Once you get your PINK IC in the morning SAF can't do anything to you, much less keep you in camp for the entire day."
Cresens : "You do not need to clear leave on the day of your FFI, since that whole day would be burnt anyway. Morning dental FFI, afternoon return to camp for the rest of the FFI, blah blah blah... Clearing leave that day would be a waste."
Miraculously, that meant I could reclaim that two days next week, and today would be my last day in camp. In an instant I was plunged into a frenzy of packing up my remaining stuff and clearing all outstanding clearances with less than half a day left.
Freedom was suddenly thrust upon me and beckoned half a day away!
I was really not mentally prepared to leave so soon, especially when I literally started the day with the impression that I still have 3 days left. I had even thought that the morning jog around camp wasn't going to be my last.
Perhaps God had decided that I had served the army honestly enough not to have 2 days taken away from me, and that 2 days were just a little reward for doing whatever that was required without shirking my responsibilities.
AIT? Cleared. Bike course? Cleared. RTC in ROC? Cleared. Commando CST? Cleared. ERT? Cleared. First year IPPT Infantry Gold? Cleared (9:24 mins). First year SOC? Cleared (7:29 mins). Redo my first year IPPT and SOC after disruption? Cleared (Couldn't remember the timings because I anyhow ran). CSB + 8 + 16 + 24 + 32km routes marches? Cleared. Wallaby? Been there saw that. ATP? Cleared. ICCT & ACCT? Punched my way through. 2nd year IPPT and SOC? Cleared in (9:58mins and 8:45 mins respectively). SK? Done. Guard Duty? Done. Morning practices of my dual broom (双刀) wielding/sweeping skills at the ring of fire? Mastered. Most significantly, all of the above mentioned were cleared in the sniper fashion.
One shot one kill.
(Don't you ever forget. Limpeh is AHLANGOD.)
And I only took 6 days of MC throughout the year! 1 day for injuring my leg on a saturday soccer match in June last year and 5 days for my wisdom tooth. Model soldier? Nah. Honest soldier? Of course! I could have chosen the easy way out by getting myself downgraded during the 4 years in uni, and that wasn't very difficult since I was always getting injured every now and then playing football.
But I did not.
Because in case Singapore would ever go to war, I would rather hold a gun than a pen.
A pen is something I could hold as a teacher for the rest of my life. But when it comes to war, you can't reason with the enemy the way a teacher does to his students in front of the blackboard. The only way to reason with them and make them realise their folly of even thinking of invading our country would be to make them hear hissing sounds of rounds flying past their ears and eventually planting one firmly into their foreheads.
Just like the MG gunner from aggressor company during 3 Guards ATEC. Despite knowing they would lose the "war" to 3 Guards eventually, the MG gunner still blasted a volley of shots at the battalion fearlessly. 1 man versus 100. A true hero.
The "piak piak" sound of his MG firing in the crisp morning air epitomised his determination.
And of ours too. I am sure despite our incessant complaints about what the army had done to our lives, we would be grateful for the guns it provides us when our survival comes to the crunch. (No matter how fucked up they may be with their constant IAs.)
Just for your information, a pen is only useful in a war for POW treatment purposes. I.e. when you are captured by the enemy and they use it to stuff it up your ass.
"What is your mission? Don't fucking tell me again you cannot answer any of my questions. You want more of these in your ass? COMRADE???"
Jokes aside, I am indeed grateful for the many trying moments I had experienced in the army. The day when we knocked it down immediately on the parade square after unloading from the tonner from BMTC. The turn outs in the middle of the night. The change parades. The rappeling and flying. The swim in the sea. The long walks in the towering mountains and winding valleys of ROC. The oppressive and regimental lifestyle under our *beloved* CSM of the past. The same oppressive and regimental lifestyle under our current RSM. Unreasonable people like them. Weekend guard duties. Many nights under the moon and the stars. The same nights feeding impoverished mosquitoes. The endless marches and walks with the stupid signal set which clung to my back like a leech. GODSPEED the un-buang-able hellrider. POW by the ranger cadres. Dunking for 20 sec. Going down into the sea in the middle of the night to measure the gradient of the shore. Pulau Tekan, err I mean Pulan Tekong. (But there's no integrity and light there in the island as in its name. There is only eternal darkness.) That CSB 32km route march + river crossing + range. Firing rounds after sprinting short distances in ranges. Beautiful SWBTA. Baby kangaroos hopping after their mums. Tan Yeat Cheong with his 101 facts about the penis on top of a knoll in wallaby. Guarding/Slacking with the police at Changi Airport. Helping out in NDP 2006. Sleeping in the bunk from first parade to lunch, then from lunch to dinner. Playing flashpoint at Gann Boon's LAN shop. (It's an open secret now. Everyone's doing it.) Sorry for pao-toh-ing my fellow troopers. The free, accessible, never crowded, convenient Bedok Camp II gym. Not very tasty but always filling SAF cookhouse food. That stretch of track of the ring of fire which is forever covered with leaves.
I guess the list would go on and on. No point mentioning all that came to mind, if not they would fill an entire bible.
Now for the people I had met. My BMT buddy was a spoilt and pampered brat. My AIT buddy was a proud and incompetent fool. My RTC and subsequently cheong sua buddy was a skilled navigator and fit soldier. My current buddy is a much maligned but in fact, an honest, trustworthy, but reticent young man. I was fortunate to earn his trust enough for him to open up sufficiently to understand his true thoughts over many issues. Although measuring a person's worth by his physical fitness is very rampant in the army, but it does not truly reflect a person's true value.
Of course there is Jit the skilled war gamer whose knowledge about conventional weapons and military vehicles truly justifies his place in BRC. His target reco skills if ever needed in future to defend Singapore will be invaluably flawless. He can also fly that dammed helicopter in flashpoint fucking well. Even a God like Ahlangod crashes his chopper. Cao jiby! (His only weakness is that he got a fetish for combat rations...)
How can I forget Tan Yeat Cheong the crappist? I admit I seldom hang out with him in camp, as he is always around with the smokers, puffing away at the corner. But I had the honour of cheonging sua with him at wallaby. The most miraculous thing about him is that he can crap whenever wherever no matter how grim the situation was. He was the one who tricked Sergeant Sammy into admitting he was eating shit when we were waiting for the tonner to recover us during an END OF THE WORLD Cat 1. Yes. It was that Cat 1 which we saw half of the Australian sky covered with ominous dark clouds. Judging from the map in our hands, the clouds could easily cover 1/4 the area of SWBTA, which is equal to the size of one Singapore! Yeat is a good cook too. His skills at conjuring maggi mee and gugu bird (I mean sausages) in the jungles were heavenly. Of course as I say again, his 101 facts about the penis were legendary.
There were others too. Egg the Flying Pig. Flying because of the way he closes the gate during guard duty. It's a little secret between us. Ask him to demo for you when you are doing sentry duty with him next time.
Siwei the hardworking and responsible armskote man who always shows off his intimate photos with Fish Leong. Always call her by her name. Fish Leong is your girlfriend hah? Basket... (Do I sense some jealously here? Oops.) Wan Hin the "closest thing to a civilian" in his own words. Don't ever leave him alone with a trolley outside 3 Guards radio store on Valentine's day. He would mount the trolley and pretend he is windsurfing in Hawaii. Crazy boy. Alfred Liang the God of Sleep who is apparently very skillful with his guitar. The only problem was that he always chose the wrong hours to practice his strings. 2300 hours at night! Do you know why at such an odd hour? Because he usually sleeps for the whole afternoon and becomes very energetic at night. Can someone please give him 01 x extra for every second he plays his demonic strings LATE at night? Ming Hui the cute boy who needs to stand up for himself. Rocky the creative crappist #2 after Yeat Cheong. Always fantasizing about 1 v 1 hell in the cell match with anyone anywhere anytime. Remember to return me my messmug when you see me in NTU! Bing Chang that Old Jiby with his comics and irritating but yet all conquering dota tactics. e.g. Hand of Midas to create a hole in the creep wall then meat hook over??? Ming Shun the skillful programmer with a complementing nerdy eroticism. Joey my favourite football pal among the troopers who packs a good shot at goal and in the toilets of clubs. His forte is to observe people and what they do with their penises in the toilets of MoS. And who would ever forget the Company Shaking Man.
And my mates who went through hell with me before I disrupted. Hong Yao the UKM (Ultimate Kan-ning Machine). Mingjun the best PT who loved to roll on his bed and smelled his underwear. Mingjun also apparently watches a lot of japanese porn and relives his fantasies by calling me "KimoCHIH". Hong Wee with his live radio. He sings well but it's irritating to hear contemporary mandarin pop outfield. Leave your voice to K box ok? Chan Wei Wen for being the one who taught me how to navigate. Yes he was my cheong sua buddy and thanks for your CV food. Although I can live on combat rations like Jit, but it doesn't hurt to kop some gugu bird and bread from Wei Wei to eat. His only flaws were that he was very prone to fever (just like me) and his skin was highly delicate. Rashes would develop out of nothing. Needs to bring Dove skin lotion outfield.
It would be forgivable for anyone to develop the impression that I am pro-army after reading the bulk of this blog. In actual fact, I am still very much a cynic of it. I hate army, I still complain incessantly about army life to everyone, I hate losing my precious freedom, I hate SKs, I hate taking unreasonable and stupid orders, I hate SOCs, I hate carrying the signal set, I hate going outfield, I hate losing sleep, I hate regimentation, I hate egoistic officers, I hate Bedok Camp, I hate war!
Despite so much grievances, amidst all the suffering I somehow forced myself to search for a greater purpose. An explanation that justified all the testing times at this stage of my life. Ultimately, the fundamental purpose of Singapore's army was never to conquer another land, but to hold on to ours. There are many things that are important to me which exist only in this place. Family and friends, experiences of growing up, familiarity of the roads, locations of good food, soccer pals... Things I wouldn't want to lose to a bomb from the sky should (touch wood) that day ever come. If we ever had to disappear into the darkness of the night, at least for me I wouldn't have any regrets because the motivation for them to be happy and alive weighed more that the genuine fear of facing and dying to a real enemy.
Fortunately Singapore far from an imminent war!
Recollecting all the experiences and people for the past 2 years 4 months, I had indeed lived life like hell and also a hell of a life. I had suffered, enjoyed, and learnt so much from people and things happening around me. I am glad I had been through a complete army life. One that included physical suffering, emotional humiliation, and yet in the end, enlightenment to the soul. Without which I would still be the cocky JC fellow who thinks as a RJ alumni, I could scale the heights and conquer the whole whole all by myself. In short,
I had become a better man.
Finally when all the last minute clearances and packing were done, I fall-ed in for the last RO of my NSF life. My big boss, the OC of the company, CPT Tng Wee Kiat gave another of his talk to the company (I am still used to him as a 2LT because that was my first impression of him when we first met in BMTC). He congratulated the snipers for clearing their ICCT, amongst many other mundane details not concerning an ORD personnel like me. In the finality, he asked everyone to repeat after him with a half punch followed by a full punch.
"GOOD DAY!"
Lucky decision #1:
On my way back to bunk after lunch, I had decided to follow Jit into the office instead of proceeding straight to the lift usually. Goodness knew why I had decided to follow him. Maybe because I had a hunch that he was going to look for his favourite "Oregano Pasta with Chicken", which I would love to try a mouthful or two. To my dismay, his purpose was to enjoy the air con instead of combat rations. And so as we were lingering in the office, I overheard some heated discussion in the Matrix.
Being the ultimate kay-poh, I rushed there immediately.
Initially I thought such a commotion could only be caused by earth shattering news like the death of our brigade RSM or someone within the company was getting married. Unfortunately it was anything but interesting, a low class case of a few troopers TRYING to bargain with our PC about their leave before they disrupt for their studies. Since that was nothing of my concern, the office no longer held any points of interest to me. I am going back to bunk to sleep.
"Shun Chih, you need to submit your leave plan again because I had misplaced it."
That outburst from my PC 2LT Cavin suddenly got me involved with them. How did my flawless plan done over many painstaking nights got misplaced? Did that mean my ambitions (i.e. World Cup on TV) would be affected? Out of a state of helplessness, I scrambled around the office to redo my plan.
Lucky decision #2:
Sitting at the COS table to redo my plan was perhaps the most crucially correct decision ever made in my entire SAF life. It was at that table which I learnt from 3SG Cheng Yee and Cresens that I could actually gain an extra 2 days for my leave! Despite my vast experience in the army, skiving was one art which I not mastered. After hearing what they had to offer, I realised right on the spot that my Bachelor of Science with Honours (Mathematics) ought to be torn to pieces for ass wiping purposes.
Cheng Yee : "You do not have to clear leave on your ORD date. Once you get your PINK IC in the morning SAF can't do anything to you, much less keep you in camp for the entire day."
Cresens : "You do not need to clear leave on the day of your FFI, since that whole day would be burnt anyway. Morning dental FFI, afternoon return to camp for the rest of the FFI, blah blah blah... Clearing leave that day would be a waste."
Miraculously, that meant I could reclaim that two days next week, and today would be my last day in camp. In an instant I was plunged into a frenzy of packing up my remaining stuff and clearing all outstanding clearances with less than half a day left.
Freedom was suddenly thrust upon me and beckoned half a day away!
I was really not mentally prepared to leave so soon, especially when I literally started the day with the impression that I still have 3 days left. I had even thought that the morning jog around camp wasn't going to be my last.
Perhaps God had decided that I had served the army honestly enough not to have 2 days taken away from me, and that 2 days were just a little reward for doing whatever that was required without shirking my responsibilities.
AIT? Cleared. Bike course? Cleared. RTC in ROC? Cleared. Commando CST? Cleared. ERT? Cleared. First year IPPT Infantry Gold? Cleared (9:24 mins). First year SOC? Cleared (7:29 mins). Redo my first year IPPT and SOC after disruption? Cleared (Couldn't remember the timings because I anyhow ran). CSB + 8 + 16 + 24 + 32km routes marches? Cleared. Wallaby? Been there saw that. ATP? Cleared. ICCT & ACCT? Punched my way through. 2nd year IPPT and SOC? Cleared in (9:58mins and 8:45 mins respectively). SK? Done. Guard Duty? Done. Morning practices of my dual broom (双刀) wielding/sweeping skills at the ring of fire? Mastered. Most significantly, all of the above mentioned were cleared in the sniper fashion.
One shot one kill.
(Don't you ever forget. Limpeh is AHLANGOD.)
And I only took 6 days of MC throughout the year! 1 day for injuring my leg on a saturday soccer match in June last year and 5 days for my wisdom tooth. Model soldier? Nah. Honest soldier? Of course! I could have chosen the easy way out by getting myself downgraded during the 4 years in uni, and that wasn't very difficult since I was always getting injured every now and then playing football.
But I did not.
Because in case Singapore would ever go to war, I would rather hold a gun than a pen.
A pen is something I could hold as a teacher for the rest of my life. But when it comes to war, you can't reason with the enemy the way a teacher does to his students in front of the blackboard. The only way to reason with them and make them realise their folly of even thinking of invading our country would be to make them hear hissing sounds of rounds flying past their ears and eventually planting one firmly into their foreheads.
Just like the MG gunner from aggressor company during 3 Guards ATEC. Despite knowing they would lose the "war" to 3 Guards eventually, the MG gunner still blasted a volley of shots at the battalion fearlessly. 1 man versus 100. A true hero.
The "piak piak" sound of his MG firing in the crisp morning air epitomised his determination.
And of ours too. I am sure despite our incessant complaints about what the army had done to our lives, we would be grateful for the guns it provides us when our survival comes to the crunch. (No matter how fucked up they may be with their constant IAs.)
Just for your information, a pen is only useful in a war for POW treatment purposes. I.e. when you are captured by the enemy and they use it to stuff it up your ass.
"What is your mission? Don't fucking tell me again you cannot answer any of my questions. You want more of these in your ass? COMRADE???"
Jokes aside, I am indeed grateful for the many trying moments I had experienced in the army. The day when we knocked it down immediately on the parade square after unloading from the tonner from BMTC. The turn outs in the middle of the night. The change parades. The rappeling and flying. The swim in the sea. The long walks in the towering mountains and winding valleys of ROC. The oppressive and regimental lifestyle under our *beloved* CSM of the past. The same oppressive and regimental lifestyle under our current RSM. Unreasonable people like them. Weekend guard duties. Many nights under the moon and the stars. The same nights feeding impoverished mosquitoes. The endless marches and walks with the stupid signal set which clung to my back like a leech. GODSPEED the un-buang-able hellrider. POW by the ranger cadres. Dunking for 20 sec. Going down into the sea in the middle of the night to measure the gradient of the shore. Pulau Tekan, err I mean Pulan Tekong. (But there's no integrity and light there in the island as in its name. There is only eternal darkness.) That CSB 32km route march + river crossing + range. Firing rounds after sprinting short distances in ranges. Beautiful SWBTA. Baby kangaroos hopping after their mums. Tan Yeat Cheong with his 101 facts about the penis on top of a knoll in wallaby. Guarding/Slacking with the police at Changi Airport. Helping out in NDP 2006. Sleeping in the bunk from first parade to lunch, then from lunch to dinner. Playing flashpoint at Gann Boon's LAN shop. (It's an open secret now. Everyone's doing it.) Sorry for pao-toh-ing my fellow troopers. The free, accessible, never crowded, convenient Bedok Camp II gym. Not very tasty but always filling SAF cookhouse food. That stretch of track of the ring of fire which is forever covered with leaves.
I guess the list would go on and on. No point mentioning all that came to mind, if not they would fill an entire bible.
Now for the people I had met. My BMT buddy was a spoilt and pampered brat. My AIT buddy was a proud and incompetent fool. My RTC and subsequently cheong sua buddy was a skilled navigator and fit soldier. My current buddy is a much maligned but in fact, an honest, trustworthy, but reticent young man. I was fortunate to earn his trust enough for him to open up sufficiently to understand his true thoughts over many issues. Although measuring a person's worth by his physical fitness is very rampant in the army, but it does not truly reflect a person's true value.
Of course there is Jit the skilled war gamer whose knowledge about conventional weapons and military vehicles truly justifies his place in BRC. His target reco skills if ever needed in future to defend Singapore will be invaluably flawless. He can also fly that dammed helicopter in flashpoint fucking well. Even a God like Ahlangod crashes his chopper. Cao jiby! (His only weakness is that he got a fetish for combat rations...)
How can I forget Tan Yeat Cheong the crappist? I admit I seldom hang out with him in camp, as he is always around with the smokers, puffing away at the corner. But I had the honour of cheonging sua with him at wallaby. The most miraculous thing about him is that he can crap whenever wherever no matter how grim the situation was. He was the one who tricked Sergeant Sammy into admitting he was eating shit when we were waiting for the tonner to recover us during an END OF THE WORLD Cat 1. Yes. It was that Cat 1 which we saw half of the Australian sky covered with ominous dark clouds. Judging from the map in our hands, the clouds could easily cover 1/4 the area of SWBTA, which is equal to the size of one Singapore! Yeat is a good cook too. His skills at conjuring maggi mee and gugu bird (I mean sausages) in the jungles were heavenly. Of course as I say again, his 101 facts about the penis were legendary.
There were others too. Egg the Flying Pig. Flying because of the way he closes the gate during guard duty. It's a little secret between us. Ask him to demo for you when you are doing sentry duty with him next time.
Siwei the hardworking and responsible armskote man who always shows off his intimate photos with Fish Leong. Always call her by her name. Fish Leong is your girlfriend hah? Basket... (Do I sense some jealously here? Oops.) Wan Hin the "closest thing to a civilian" in his own words. Don't ever leave him alone with a trolley outside 3 Guards radio store on Valentine's day. He would mount the trolley and pretend he is windsurfing in Hawaii. Crazy boy. Alfred Liang the God of Sleep who is apparently very skillful with his guitar. The only problem was that he always chose the wrong hours to practice his strings. 2300 hours at night! Do you know why at such an odd hour? Because he usually sleeps for the whole afternoon and becomes very energetic at night. Can someone please give him 01 x extra for every second he plays his demonic strings LATE at night? Ming Hui the cute boy who needs to stand up for himself. Rocky the creative crappist #2 after Yeat Cheong. Always fantasizing about 1 v 1 hell in the cell match with anyone anywhere anytime. Remember to return me my messmug when you see me in NTU! Bing Chang that Old Jiby with his comics and irritating but yet all conquering dota tactics. e.g. Hand of Midas to create a hole in the creep wall then meat hook over??? Ming Shun the skillful programmer with a complementing nerdy eroticism. Joey my favourite football pal among the troopers who packs a good shot at goal and in the toilets of clubs. His forte is to observe people and what they do with their penises in the toilets of MoS. And who would ever forget the Company Shaking Man.
And my mates who went through hell with me before I disrupted. Hong Yao the UKM (Ultimate Kan-ning Machine). Mingjun the best PT who loved to roll on his bed and smelled his underwear. Mingjun also apparently watches a lot of japanese porn and relives his fantasies by calling me "KimoCHIH". Hong Wee with his live radio. He sings well but it's irritating to hear contemporary mandarin pop outfield. Leave your voice to K box ok? Chan Wei Wen for being the one who taught me how to navigate. Yes he was my cheong sua buddy and thanks for your CV food. Although I can live on combat rations like Jit, but it doesn't hurt to kop some gugu bird and bread from Wei Wei to eat. His only flaws were that he was very prone to fever (just like me) and his skin was highly delicate. Rashes would develop out of nothing. Needs to bring Dove skin lotion outfield.
It would be forgivable for anyone to develop the impression that I am pro-army after reading the bulk of this blog. In actual fact, I am still very much a cynic of it. I hate army, I still complain incessantly about army life to everyone, I hate losing my precious freedom, I hate SKs, I hate taking unreasonable and stupid orders, I hate SOCs, I hate carrying the signal set, I hate going outfield, I hate losing sleep, I hate regimentation, I hate egoistic officers, I hate Bedok Camp, I hate war!
Despite so much grievances, amidst all the suffering I somehow forced myself to search for a greater purpose. An explanation that justified all the testing times at this stage of my life. Ultimately, the fundamental purpose of Singapore's army was never to conquer another land, but to hold on to ours. There are many things that are important to me which exist only in this place. Family and friends, experiences of growing up, familiarity of the roads, locations of good food, soccer pals... Things I wouldn't want to lose to a bomb from the sky should (touch wood) that day ever come. If we ever had to disappear into the darkness of the night, at least for me I wouldn't have any regrets because the motivation for them to be happy and alive weighed more that the genuine fear of facing and dying to a real enemy.
Fortunately Singapore far from an imminent war!
Recollecting all the experiences and people for the past 2 years 4 months, I had indeed lived life like hell and also a hell of a life. I had suffered, enjoyed, and learnt so much from people and things happening around me. I am glad I had been through a complete army life. One that included physical suffering, emotional humiliation, and yet in the end, enlightenment to the soul. Without which I would still be the cocky JC fellow who thinks as a RJ alumni, I could scale the heights and conquer the whole whole all by myself. In short,
I had become a better man.
Finally when all the last minute clearances and packing were done, I fall-ed in for the last RO of my NSF life. My big boss, the OC of the company, CPT Tng Wee Kiat gave another of his talk to the company (I am still used to him as a 2LT because that was my first impression of him when we first met in BMTC). He congratulated the snipers for clearing their ICCT, amongst many other mundane details not concerning an ORD personnel like me. In the finality, he asked everyone to repeat after him with a half punch followed by a full punch.
"GOOD DAY!"
Thursday, May 11, 2006
A Few Good Men
I had reached home early last Thursday because I took half a day off for a medical checkup at Raffles Hospital. The checkup was meant to be a verification of my health status prior to joining the teaching service in June. I was given a clean bill of health as expected and that resulted in spending minimal time at the hospital.
When I got home in the early evening, only my brother was around. My parents and sister were still out at work. They would return home at their usual timings, which was 1900 for my mother, 2200 for my father, and 2300 for my sister. However my mother returned earlier than usual. It should not be surprising, since she would occasionally knock off early. I had assumed that she came home from somewhere apart from her office. Being a DXO in the army, frequenting other military camps in the course of her work was not unusual. She must have been to a camp nearer to home than her office. (Any camp would be nearer since her office is at Selarang Camp.)
"I just came back from CGH. I fainted on the bench outside the staff toilet back in camp. They rushed me to the medical centre then to CGH."
Fainted? Pain around the cardiac area? That sounded so preposterous and contradictory to the healthy woman in my living memory. The news came so suddenly and furiously that it took me quite a while before I fully appreciated the implications of her condition. To anyone with the slightest of common sense, pain around the cardiac area would definitely be non-trivial. Any form of complication concerning the heart would mean an anonymous time bomb had been planted in that person. No one could be certain when the counter would hit zero.
She did not reveal much about her condition either. The fact she had to go for more tests on the following Monday and Tuesday suggested that she was as clueless as us. The only consolation was that she was still able to walk around and not bedridden. Hopefully that would mean that her condition was not serious. How naive could I be? Could any pain around the heart be not serious?
I had been guilty of overplaying dota over the past few weekends such that I had created a huge backlog of blogs yet to be written. Neglecting my blog was trivial, but neglecting the presence of my loved ones and my obligation to them was inconscionable.
We always take things for granted, and we don't appreciate the precious things in life until we sense that we might lose them. I used to and am still irritated by her constant nagging and SKs that she tasks me to do. But the newly surfaced possibility of losing her anytime now had struck a deep sense of guilt within me. Maybe I could have grumbled less, maybe I could have abused her less,
Maybe I could have talked to her more.
As I watched her debilitated figure lying on the sofa, the deeply etched memories of a robust woman throughout my growing up years brushed before my eyes like a tape on a rolling reel. The violent "siao za ball" who would cane me whenever I did not do well for a test. The tireless maid who would wash, clean, scrub, and do the marketing on Sunday mornings. The great fan of Hong Kong dramas. The devout Christian. The faithful wife who would wait for my father to return home before turning in. The great cook with her specialty potato soup. The avid gardener who loved to plant pots and pots of goodness knows where at the void deck outside our house...
Talking about gardening, I had read the novel of a blockbuster movie screened recently: 'The Constant Gardener'. While it took the tragic death of the protanganist's wife for him to realise the many great things that his wife had done, I certainly hope I would not need something similar for me to realise the many noble things that my mother had done for us.
I remembered talking about the difference between a nice and good man. A nice man is a hypocrite who goes all the way to get into the good books of others so as to gain their acceptance. A good man casts all those pretences aside and is only concerned with doing what he thinks is morally right. Between the two, I think it is harder to be a good man because a good man runs the risks of compromising others' impression of him and his personal interests.
I had been guilty of being nice for the bulk of my life so far.
Being nice had its many drawbacks. First, in order to maintain that 'nice' image in front of others, a person's behavior would evolve into a pretence rather than protraying his true self. Others' impression of him could only depreciate since that 'nice' image was set at a much higher standard than what he really was. In the end that hypocrisy would result in restricting his relationship to others to a superficial level. He would end up with more acquaintances than friends, despite spending lots of time with others.
But most unforgivably, being 'nice' had caused him to neglect the people that truly deserved his concern.
Fortunately God had shown his mercy and granted the fool the much needed clairvoyance to recognise his follies. A timely saving grace indeed, for although the time bomb was in place, it had not gone off yet. My mother had been diagnosed with high blood pressure only. The blood vessels in her heart and kidneys were revealed to be UNCONGESTED after some complicated scans. With the appropriate change in diet and lifestyle, there is a high chance that her condition will get better.
I had been away from home for 6 long years. Many changes had occured to my life over the years. Friends had been made and lost. My music preferences had changed from Yes! 93.3 to Gold 90.5. I spend more time blogging than playing games. I picked up football. My brother's height had ballooned from my waist to my nose. My sister had grown fatter and still refused to get married. The memories of my once robust parents had been cruelly replaced by enervated figures.
Even the plants that my mother had grown in the void deck appeared more withered than before. Over the years, my impression of that little space in the void deck had developed from a mere messy cluster of potted plants to my mother's garden.
When I got home in the early evening, only my brother was around. My parents and sister were still out at work. They would return home at their usual timings, which was 1900 for my mother, 2200 for my father, and 2300 for my sister. However my mother returned earlier than usual. It should not be surprising, since she would occasionally knock off early. I had assumed that she came home from somewhere apart from her office. Being a DXO in the army, frequenting other military camps in the course of her work was not unusual. She must have been to a camp nearer to home than her office. (Any camp would be nearer since her office is at Selarang Camp.)
"I just came back from CGH. I fainted on the bench outside the staff toilet back in camp. They rushed me to the medical centre then to CGH."
Fainted? Pain around the cardiac area? That sounded so preposterous and contradictory to the healthy woman in my living memory. The news came so suddenly and furiously that it took me quite a while before I fully appreciated the implications of her condition. To anyone with the slightest of common sense, pain around the cardiac area would definitely be non-trivial. Any form of complication concerning the heart would mean an anonymous time bomb had been planted in that person. No one could be certain when the counter would hit zero.
She did not reveal much about her condition either. The fact she had to go for more tests on the following Monday and Tuesday suggested that she was as clueless as us. The only consolation was that she was still able to walk around and not bedridden. Hopefully that would mean that her condition was not serious. How naive could I be? Could any pain around the heart be not serious?
I had been guilty of overplaying dota over the past few weekends such that I had created a huge backlog of blogs yet to be written. Neglecting my blog was trivial, but neglecting the presence of my loved ones and my obligation to them was inconscionable.
We always take things for granted, and we don't appreciate the precious things in life until we sense that we might lose them. I used to and am still irritated by her constant nagging and SKs that she tasks me to do. But the newly surfaced possibility of losing her anytime now had struck a deep sense of guilt within me. Maybe I could have grumbled less, maybe I could have abused her less,
Maybe I could have talked to her more.
As I watched her debilitated figure lying on the sofa, the deeply etched memories of a robust woman throughout my growing up years brushed before my eyes like a tape on a rolling reel. The violent "siao za ball" who would cane me whenever I did not do well for a test. The tireless maid who would wash, clean, scrub, and do the marketing on Sunday mornings. The great fan of Hong Kong dramas. The devout Christian. The faithful wife who would wait for my father to return home before turning in. The great cook with her specialty potato soup. The avid gardener who loved to plant pots and pots of goodness knows where at the void deck outside our house...
Talking about gardening, I had read the novel of a blockbuster movie screened recently: 'The Constant Gardener'. While it took the tragic death of the protanganist's wife for him to realise the many great things that his wife had done, I certainly hope I would not need something similar for me to realise the many noble things that my mother had done for us.
I remembered talking about the difference between a nice and good man. A nice man is a hypocrite who goes all the way to get into the good books of others so as to gain their acceptance. A good man casts all those pretences aside and is only concerned with doing what he thinks is morally right. Between the two, I think it is harder to be a good man because a good man runs the risks of compromising others' impression of him and his personal interests.
I had been guilty of being nice for the bulk of my life so far.
Being nice had its many drawbacks. First, in order to maintain that 'nice' image in front of others, a person's behavior would evolve into a pretence rather than protraying his true self. Others' impression of him could only depreciate since that 'nice' image was set at a much higher standard than what he really was. In the end that hypocrisy would result in restricting his relationship to others to a superficial level. He would end up with more acquaintances than friends, despite spending lots of time with others.
But most unforgivably, being 'nice' had caused him to neglect the people that truly deserved his concern.
Fortunately God had shown his mercy and granted the fool the much needed clairvoyance to recognise his follies. A timely saving grace indeed, for although the time bomb was in place, it had not gone off yet. My mother had been diagnosed with high blood pressure only. The blood vessels in her heart and kidneys were revealed to be UNCONGESTED after some complicated scans. With the appropriate change in diet and lifestyle, there is a high chance that her condition will get better.
I had been away from home for 6 long years. Many changes had occured to my life over the years. Friends had been made and lost. My music preferences had changed from Yes! 93.3 to Gold 90.5. I spend more time blogging than playing games. I picked up football. My brother's height had ballooned from my waist to my nose. My sister had grown fatter and still refused to get married. The memories of my once robust parents had been cruelly replaced by enervated figures.
Even the plants that my mother had grown in the void deck appeared more withered than before. Over the years, my impression of that little space in the void deck had developed from a mere messy cluster of potted plants to my mother's garden.
It had becomed the backyard (庭院) of our house.
I have many fond memories of the backyard. I used to play in a much bigger backyard of our Outram Park flat back in my toddler days. I would sprawl all my toys around the void deck and run away, leaving my mother to clean up the mess after me. When I grew slightly older, I would help trim and water the plants, after which I would sweep the leaves and throw them into the dustbin. (Sounds like I was trained to do SK at very young age.)
A few more years down the road, the backyard became a warzone. My brother and I would hold water gun fights right there. I do not fight with the intention of getting defeated. I am Ahlangod. I would make sure my brother is thoroughly drenched before he was allowed to step into the house. But when we were caught playing with water, my vehement attempts at convincing her that we were actually watering the plants never failed to induce the ro-tan.
And she was always excited when there was a harvest. The following picture was taken back in her better days when a big pomelo sprouted out from one of her goodness knows where plants. She just took my expensive Canon Ixus and asked my brother to take a picture WITHOUT MY PERMISSION.
The backyard had prospered while she was healthy, and declined when she is sick. It almost seemed like the backyard shared her life. I went there today. Standing in the midst of the remaining few pots of withering plants, the following sentiments just overwhelmed me subconsciously...
踩着那梦里的足迹，
找不着旧时的天地。
挽着那梦里的时光，
留不住旧时的回忆。
多少年的漂泊，
多少年的相思，
多少年流浪的日子，
堆积堆积，噢堆积！
堆积出这样一句，
这样一句。
庭院深深深几许。
庭院深深，
深几许？
I just came back from a stroll with her. The doctor said mild exercises would be good for her health. It had been a long time since I had last spent time like that with her. We talked about almost everything and yet nothing significant. It was almost like a date. The thought of me spending so much time on other women in the past seemed so silly. I do not mean spending time with other girls is no good, but not to the extent that I should neglect my own mother.
Especially when I am not dating anyone of them.
Although my mother urges me to date on a more regular basis, I would rather hang around for a while longer. I don't owe any of those women anything, but I know I owed my mother right from the day I was born. That would be a very huge debt. Let me repay some of it before the special girl appears.
Changes are inevitable. I do not resent the changes that had occured in my life during the 6 long vagabond years. Because without those changes, I would not have learnt the most important change that I have to make. That is,
To join the ranks of the few good men.
Friday, May 05, 2006
A Brave New World
Presently at the closing stages of my army life, I could not help but anticipate the kind of life that would await me beyond the gates of Bedok Camp II. Stories heard from friends already out there in the fray are anything but encouraging, especially those who had taken the path I had chosen.
To be a teacher.
That left me with an urge to think about the reasons that made me chose this path a long long time ago.
6 years ago after the release of my 'A' level results, I had a few choices with regards to financing my tertiary education. I had decided against using my parents' CPF ordinary accounts for my university education (because they had paid for my sister's education with those accounts already). That literally meant I had no money for my tertiary education unless I took other people's money to study. Sizing up my options, I had the liberty of taking up NUS bursaries, bank loans, and scholarships. After careful consideration, I had decided that taking up a scholarship was the way to go because of guaranteed employment after graduation. The only catch was that I had to choose my scholarship carefully because I certainly have no money to repay the liquidated damages should I change my mind and break the bond. Weighing my own eligibility and my interest levels against the scholarships on offer, I vigorously applied for them from the moment I received my 'A' level results.
Initially I thought my interests and career prospects in the organisation should take top priority, but with the rampage of similarly minded 18 year olds flooding the scholarship market, I ended up applying for everything on offer as a testament to my desperation for money. I am indeed not an erudite player in this ball game at all.
I remembered I was offered scholarships from the airforce, army, and MOE to become an officer with either one of them towards the end of my BMT days. On one particular weekend when I saw all three letters of offer sprawled on my table after a weary week in Tekong, I knew my future would depend on which letter I put my name on. And so I pondered my options...
The Airforce offered me an Air Engineering Officer (AEO) scholarship.
Scholarships/Awards : Local Study Award (LSA) for commissioned officers.
- Tuition fees and other approved charges.
- Annual $9,000 allowance.
Starting salary : $2,900 to $3,450.
Benefits : CPF Top-Up Account + Savings Account + Retirement Account.
CPF Top-Up Account
- 9% CPF contribution. I am assuming RSAF will contribute 24% since the current (total contribution of wages) rate is 33% for Government Non-Pensionable Employees. (Fuck lah, last time before 1997 Asian financial crisis it was 40% one loh. So shiok!)
Savings Account
- Contributions of 5% to 10% of monthly pay to this account during your first 6 years of service.
- Contributions will decrease progressively from the 7 to 10 years of service, thereafter it will cease.
- Eligible to progressively withdraw from this account after 6 years of service.
Retirement Account
- A special account set up from my 7th year of service onwards until age 42/44*. The amount I am eligible to withdraw depends on my age, with full vesting when you reach the age of 42/44*. (* = pilots and ranks of colonel and above.)
Overall I thought that was an okay offer. With the prerequisite of paying for my tuition fees being satisfied and a whooping $9000 per annum, I would not need to worry about school fees and living expenses (no need to teach tuition and find part time jobs during school hols) . Supposing I start work from graduation at age 25 to an expected retirement age of 45 for a typical SAF officer, I should expect to get around
(Number of Months at Work) x (Minimum Possible Gross Starting Salary) + (Minimum Possible from Savings Account) + (Amount from Retirement Account)
= [(45 - 25) years x 12 months] x (0.91 x $2900) + (6 years x 12 months x 0.05 x $2900 + ...) + Retirement Account
= $643830 + (7th to 10th year of Savings Account) + (Retirement Account).
Moreover, an AEO is marketable even after he ORDs because he could still work with civilian airline companies. So a transition to a second job would not be too difficult. A career as an AEO was really attractive, except for one fact. I don't really like engineering.
The Army offered me a similar LSA to become a combat officer, together with the CPF Top-Up Account, Savings Account, and Retirement Account mentioned earlier. All these accounts would be managed under a single account called the SAVER account.
"The SAVER account will be managed by top global fund managers, who will help maintain a healthy growth in your account. When you retire at age 42-45, you should have accumulated a sum of approximately $500,000."
In short, I will be a rich man by 45. i.e. (~$600k) + (~$500k) = ~$1.1M in the bank. That meant my Estimated Life Value (ELV) in either the army or air force would be at least SGD $1M by mid life, with the potential to earn even more in the 20 years to the standard retirement age at 65!
(ELV is a term used by insurance companies to "calculate" your value so that they could convince you with their attractive policies promising returns at a significant fraction of your ELV.)
How about being a teacher? I was offered the PSC LMS (Teaching) Scholarship.
Awards : Public Service Commission Local Merit Scholarship (Teaching)
- $5,500 per annum.
- Tuition fees paid for.
- Subsidies hostel fees (at double room rates).
- 4 year bond.
Starting Structure:
- GEO 1.2 salary scale $1600x$160 - $3680 in NIE. This meant a minimum of $1600 to a maximum of $3680 with an annual increment of $160.
- GEO 1.1 salary scale $1680x$160-$3760 after NIE.
Starting Salary : $2724-$2883.
Renumerations : http://www.moe.gov.sg/teach/salary.htm
ELV at age 65 : (65 years -25 years) x 12 months x 0.80 x $2724 = $1,046,016.
Unoptimistically speaking, the ELV of a teacher is less than a SAF officer.
With so much rambling about money so far, it would not be surprising if the impression of me as a materialist had developed. Actually that was not my intention. The main point I was trying to drive at by showing so much figures was to provide mathematical proof of the significant difference between the ELVs of a military career and a teaching career. You can't blame me. I am a math graduate.
Then why did I choose the less lucrative route?
It was because whatever I had achieved today was in a big part due to the magnanimity of two men. Mr Lee Fong Seng (Principal of RJC in 1998) and Mr Robert Tan (Principal of TJC in 1998). My 'A' level results were not good enough for a science stream course at RJ, and I was instead posted to RJ commerce instead. Desperate to do a science stream course since my inclinations were not with commerce, I went to TJ to do an appeal for enrolment into their science stream. Fortunately I was not only accepted, but was placed in their elite triple science stream. I was indeed very grateful to Mr Tan for his kindness.
So how did I end up back in RJ again?
No less because of my good friend Mr Yeo Tianrong (I always call him Tian Bay) and some other team mates from the RI table tennis team who tried to help me to appeal for a return. I was wondering why a player of second tier standards like me would merit a precious appeal slot reserved for truly talented players from other secondary schools but could not make it to RJ based on their academic merits. I was to learn from my friends later that they "missed" me after 4 good years in RI, especially my gung-ho sec 4 South Zone Final doubles match with Tianbay. Yes, the one which we brought the whole hall to their feet!
Let me digress and recall the very final point which we won. I had the serve, and I served a no spin disguised as an underspin to the opponents. My reasoning was that at that very stage in the game, the opponent's hand might tremble and hit the ball harder, resulting in returning a high ball for us. My own hands were trembling too, so the no spin came off naturally and perfectly with the angle of my bat painting the perfect disguise. True to my reasoning, the ball came back as a very good chance and Tianbay slammed it home emphatically with much aplomb!
Unfortunately poetic justice prevailed in the end. The management of RJ was not stupid, and I was still denied that position reserved only for talented sportsmen from other schools. Grateful for whatever they had done for me so far, I had decided that in order not to have any regrets in my life, I must attempt an appeal at RJ based on my own merit no matter how hopeless it seemed. So I went back to RJ and told them whatever I had said in the previous 2 paragraphs.
Miraculously it worked.
Even after so many years down the road, I still felt that I had abused the system to suit my own wants. I was offered a place that I liked but not the course. So I went for the course which I liked but not the place. Then in the end after one big round, I tricked the place I liked into giving me the course that I liked.
I could never forget the immense disappointment on Mr Tan's face when I told him RJ had taken me back. Yes I got all that I wanted, and I was elated then. If I were given the same choice today,
I would rather live with regrets than with guilt.
Still this episode had a profound effect on me. I had learned to appreciate and value other people more. Whatever heights that I had and could scale is not due to my own ability alone. No one can climb a mountain without some gaps in the mountain wall for you to lodge your feet in. Similarly, no one can climb in life without other people to help you. The magnanimity of my parents, friends, Mr Lee and Mr Tan made me the man I am today. It is an anguish today that I had lost contact with most of them except obviously for my parents and Tianbay who still stalks this pathetic blog regularly.
I tore up the 2 offers from SAF into pieces.
I am glad that I had not become an army officer. After having spent so much time in the army, I had learnt that despite both educators and officers sporting the same pot bellies at mid life, an educator's belly is filled with humility and magnanimity, but an officer's belly is filled with nothing but ego.
But come to think of it. If I don't make it far in the army, making a career switch in mid life would be equivalent to getting retrenched during the phase in life when responsibilities should be the greatest. Ageing parents, kid(s)' education and expenses, housing loan, car loan, etc... The least preferred time to lose a job. The pension of $500k would not be enough to last the next 40 to 50 years before I die, and my ego by then after so many years as an officer would hamper me to looking for a less 'commanding' job.
That had been a long story explaining why I will be a teacher (exceeded 2000 words already), but I hope it would be useful to myself should I ever lost my way down the years in the teaching service. To serve as a signpost and reminder to myself.
The day will come when I sling my duffel bag on my shoulder waiting for the last cab ride home from Bedok Camp II. A brave new world awaits me from that day onwards. A world in which I will fulfill my destiny by repaying two honourable men.
To be a GREAT Teacher.
To be a teacher.
That left me with an urge to think about the reasons that made me chose this path a long long time ago.
6 years ago after the release of my 'A' level results, I had a few choices with regards to financing my tertiary education. I had decided against using my parents' CPF ordinary accounts for my university education (because they had paid for my sister's education with those accounts already). That literally meant I had no money for my tertiary education unless I took other people's money to study. Sizing up my options, I had the liberty of taking up NUS bursaries, bank loans, and scholarships. After careful consideration, I had decided that taking up a scholarship was the way to go because of guaranteed employment after graduation. The only catch was that I had to choose my scholarship carefully because I certainly have no money to repay the liquidated damages should I change my mind and break the bond. Weighing my own eligibility and my interest levels against the scholarships on offer, I vigorously applied for them from the moment I received my 'A' level results.
Initially I thought my interests and career prospects in the organisation should take top priority, but with the rampage of similarly minded 18 year olds flooding the scholarship market, I ended up applying for everything on offer as a testament to my desperation for money. I am indeed not an erudite player in this ball game at all.
I remembered I was offered scholarships from the airforce, army, and MOE to become an officer with either one of them towards the end of my BMT days. On one particular weekend when I saw all three letters of offer sprawled on my table after a weary week in Tekong, I knew my future would depend on which letter I put my name on. And so I pondered my options...
The Airforce offered me an Air Engineering Officer (AEO) scholarship.
Scholarships/Awards : Local Study Award (LSA) for commissioned officers.
- Tuition fees and other approved charges.
- Annual $9,000 allowance.
Starting salary : $2,900 to $3,450.
Benefits : CPF Top-Up Account + Savings Account + Retirement Account.
CPF Top-Up Account
- 9% CPF contribution. I am assuming RSAF will contribute 24% since the current (total contribution of wages) rate is 33% for Government Non-Pensionable Employees. (Fuck lah, last time before 1997 Asian financial crisis it was 40% one loh. So shiok!)
Savings Account
- Contributions of 5% to 10% of monthly pay to this account during your first 6 years of service.
- Contributions will decrease progressively from the 7 to 10 years of service, thereafter it will cease.
- Eligible to progressively withdraw from this account after 6 years of service.
Retirement Account
- A special account set up from my 7th year of service onwards until age 42/44*. The amount I am eligible to withdraw depends on my age, with full vesting when you reach the age of 42/44*. (* = pilots and ranks of colonel and above.)
Overall I thought that was an okay offer. With the prerequisite of paying for my tuition fees being satisfied and a whooping $9000 per annum, I would not need to worry about school fees and living expenses (no need to teach tuition and find part time jobs during school hols) . Supposing I start work from graduation at age 25 to an expected retirement age of 45 for a typical SAF officer, I should expect to get around
(Number of Months at Work) x (Minimum Possible Gross Starting Salary) + (Minimum Possible from Savings Account) + (Amount from Retirement Account)
= [(45 - 25) years x 12 months] x (0.91 x $2900) + (6 years x 12 months x 0.05 x $2900 + ...) + Retirement Account
= $643830 + (7th to 10th year of Savings Account) + (Retirement Account).
Moreover, an AEO is marketable even after he ORDs because he could still work with civilian airline companies. So a transition to a second job would not be too difficult. A career as an AEO was really attractive, except for one fact. I don't really like engineering.
The Army offered me a similar LSA to become a combat officer, together with the CPF Top-Up Account, Savings Account, and Retirement Account mentioned earlier. All these accounts would be managed under a single account called the SAVER account.
"The SAVER account will be managed by top global fund managers, who will help maintain a healthy growth in your account. When you retire at age 42-45, you should have accumulated a sum of approximately $500,000."
In short, I will be a rich man by 45. i.e. (~$600k) + (~$500k) = ~$1.1M in the bank. That meant my Estimated Life Value (ELV) in either the army or air force would be at least SGD $1M by mid life, with the potential to earn even more in the 20 years to the standard retirement age at 65!
(ELV is a term used by insurance companies to "calculate" your value so that they could convince you with their attractive policies promising returns at a significant fraction of your ELV.)
How about being a teacher? I was offered the PSC LMS (Teaching) Scholarship.
Awards : Public Service Commission Local Merit Scholarship (Teaching)
- $5,500 per annum.
- Tuition fees paid for.
- Subsidies hostel fees (at double room rates).
- 4 year bond.
Starting Structure:
- GEO 1.2 salary scale $1600x$160 - $3680 in NIE. This meant a minimum of $1600 to a maximum of $3680 with an annual increment of $160.
- GEO 1.1 salary scale $1680x$160-$3760 after NIE.
Starting Salary : $2724-$2883.
Renumerations : http://www.moe.gov.sg/teach/salary.htm
ELV at age 65 : (65 years -25 years) x 12 months x 0.80 x $2724 = $1,046,016.
Unoptimistically speaking, the ELV of a teacher is less than a SAF officer.
With so much rambling about money so far, it would not be surprising if the impression of me as a materialist had developed. Actually that was not my intention. The main point I was trying to drive at by showing so much figures was to provide mathematical proof of the significant difference between the ELVs of a military career and a teaching career. You can't blame me. I am a math graduate.
Then why did I choose the less lucrative route?
It was because whatever I had achieved today was in a big part due to the magnanimity of two men. Mr Lee Fong Seng (Principal of RJC in 1998) and Mr Robert Tan (Principal of TJC in 1998). My 'A' level results were not good enough for a science stream course at RJ, and I was instead posted to RJ commerce instead. Desperate to do a science stream course since my inclinations were not with commerce, I went to TJ to do an appeal for enrolment into their science stream. Fortunately I was not only accepted, but was placed in their elite triple science stream. I was indeed very grateful to Mr Tan for his kindness.
So how did I end up back in RJ again?
No less because of my good friend Mr Yeo Tianrong (I always call him Tian Bay) and some other team mates from the RI table tennis team who tried to help me to appeal for a return. I was wondering why a player of second tier standards like me would merit a precious appeal slot reserved for truly talented players from other secondary schools but could not make it to RJ based on their academic merits. I was to learn from my friends later that they "missed" me after 4 good years in RI, especially my gung-ho sec 4 South Zone Final doubles match with Tianbay. Yes, the one which we brought the whole hall to their feet!
Let me digress and recall the very final point which we won. I had the serve, and I served a no spin disguised as an underspin to the opponents. My reasoning was that at that very stage in the game, the opponent's hand might tremble and hit the ball harder, resulting in returning a high ball for us. My own hands were trembling too, so the no spin came off naturally and perfectly with the angle of my bat painting the perfect disguise. True to my reasoning, the ball came back as a very good chance and Tianbay slammed it home emphatically with much aplomb!
Unfortunately poetic justice prevailed in the end. The management of RJ was not stupid, and I was still denied that position reserved only for talented sportsmen from other schools. Grateful for whatever they had done for me so far, I had decided that in order not to have any regrets in my life, I must attempt an appeal at RJ based on my own merit no matter how hopeless it seemed. So I went back to RJ and told them whatever I had said in the previous 2 paragraphs.
Miraculously it worked.
Even after so many years down the road, I still felt that I had abused the system to suit my own wants. I was offered a place that I liked but not the course. So I went for the course which I liked but not the place. Then in the end after one big round, I tricked the place I liked into giving me the course that I liked.
I could never forget the immense disappointment on Mr Tan's face when I told him RJ had taken me back. Yes I got all that I wanted, and I was elated then. If I were given the same choice today,
I would rather live with regrets than with guilt.
Still this episode had a profound effect on me. I had learned to appreciate and value other people more. Whatever heights that I had and could scale is not due to my own ability alone. No one can climb a mountain without some gaps in the mountain wall for you to lodge your feet in. Similarly, no one can climb in life without other people to help you. The magnanimity of my parents, friends, Mr Lee and Mr Tan made me the man I am today. It is an anguish today that I had lost contact with most of them except obviously for my parents and Tianbay who still stalks this pathetic blog regularly.
I tore up the 2 offers from SAF into pieces.
I am glad that I had not become an army officer. After having spent so much time in the army, I had learnt that despite both educators and officers sporting the same pot bellies at mid life, an educator's belly is filled with humility and magnanimity, but an officer's belly is filled with nothing but ego.
But come to think of it. If I don't make it far in the army, making a career switch in mid life would be equivalent to getting retrenched during the phase in life when responsibilities should be the greatest. Ageing parents, kid(s)' education and expenses, housing loan, car loan, etc... The least preferred time to lose a job. The pension of $500k would not be enough to last the next 40 to 50 years before I die, and my ego by then after so many years as an officer would hamper me to looking for a less 'commanding' job.
That had been a long story explaining why I will be a teacher (exceeded 2000 words already), but I hope it would be useful to myself should I ever lost my way down the years in the teaching service. To serve as a signpost and reminder to myself.
The day will come when I sling my duffel bag on my shoulder waiting for the last cab ride home from Bedok Camp II. A brave new world awaits me from that day onwards. A world in which I will fulfill my destiny by repaying two honourable men.
To be a GREAT Teacher.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
The Last Night Under The Stars
I had spent most of this week in LCK (Lim Chu Kang) because our company had to support 3 Guards in their ATEC. Going to LCK had never been a love affair for me as long as I could remember. LCK is swarmed with mosquitoes, uneven tracks, lots of knolls, and desolate.
I was appointed as the IC for the team of fire markers attached to the unit evaluating the battalion. Since this was the first time I am responsible for a team in a major exercise, my lack of experience translated into a hasty preparation on the 11th hour. Many thanks to Sergeant Fadly from MT line for his help despite my last minute request for motorcycles. Really appreciated him showing me the ropes and fixing some bike problems last minute, although very little repairs could be done with such a little time.
Since I am a brillant man, no job would pose too difficult for me. Limpeh is Ahlangod. (Ah Lang God). Expectedly, we managed to set off on Monday morning at 0745 hrs without a hitch.
To our disappointment, our first day at PLC was a waste of time. We were supposed to set off only on Tuesday morning. The only productive job ATEC required of us on Monday was to collect rations for the umpires and enemies.
On Tuesday, we were told to navigate on our own for 3 hours to familiarise ourselves with the terrain and the sites which we are supposed to "bomb". Navigation had never a problem for me. My army buddy (before I disrupted) was a good navigator who seldom "horlan-ed". Tagging along with him and learning his technique allowed me to develop a solid foundation in moving on the ground. Therefore despite not navigating as much as him (since I was the signaller), I am equally adept with a map and compass.
Remember, limpeh is Ahlangod.
With the bombing sites at our finger tips, we eagerly awaited for the moment (to bomb people) that never came. It was to be revealed to us later that the officer up there did not exercise his utilities and activate us, thus depriving us of the chance throw thunderflashes at pathetic soldiers. We could only clutch our thunderflashes in tears and go to sleep in the mosquito infested night.
The next night was similar. We had to scout our bombing sites (this time in the night) and wait in stand by mode. The only difference was that this time we had to wait in the open compared to a training shed the previous night. After all the preparation had been done, me and my friends parked our bikes and rested at our holding area. There was only one thing left to do before the moment of truth came.
Wait.
With each passing minute, whatever interest we had would soon be replaced by fatigue and boredom. Suddenly, we heard a shuffle in the bushes and a dark shadow emerged and strolled across the junction. Startled by the presence of so many humans (there was a whole company of soldiers camping at our holding area with us), the wild boar mustered whatever courage it had and sprinted back into his cover among the bushes.
There wasn't much of any interesting episodes after the pig, and for the first time in the night, I had the chance to sit back and took in whatever it was worth. Stacking my SBO and field pack on the rack of my motorcycle, I did a well rehearsed drill performed so flawlessly many times over the years.
To lie down flat on a motorcycle.
Did that remind you of xiao long nuu sleeping on a rope in "The Return of the Condor Heros"? There were a couple of similarities between my stunt and hers. Both needed skill to execute, and comfort would only be felt for the masters. Beginners would be too unnerved to feel any enjoyment.
So as I lay down on the bike and fed the moquitoes, my mind started to wander as usual. I was rather surprised that I did not horlan while navigating in the night. Maybe because I was on bike so any mistakes could easily be rectified by retracing the path. Or maybe because of the way I find my way around.
"Just go in the general direction and confirm your ground whenever you reach a junction or a significant landmark." - My army buddy four years ago.
Sounds like how I find my way around in life as well, only that it would show how aimless my life had been. I don't have any specific goal in life (as yet). I live my life with a general gut feeling and time and again take stock of myself whenever I realised the need to.
So the advice my buddy gave me was useful in terms of navigation but not in life. I won't lose my way in desolate places but I lost my way in the midst of people. Girls won't find any sense of security in me. haha
Suddenly I realised that my old friends were up in the sky. They had been there for me in Tekong, ROC, Wallaby, whatever, and whenever I am thinking of what to do with my life. They were the landmarks which I had been using to "confirm ground" in my life. They were always there for me when I had to ruminate things my mind.
They are the stars.
In Tekong, I just wanted to go home back in the mainland. In ROC, I wanted to put down that stupid signal set, disrupt, and continue with my studies. In Wallaby, I was actually happy to be there because it was a free trip and the scenary was beautiful. In LCK, I was actually admiring the stars for the first time. I was a fool not to have appreciated them when they were more brillant overseas. But nonetheless in LCK, they had not lost much of their sparkle.
Would they fall like Heaven's coins?
Rationally they won't. Romatically they would. I think I am more rational than romantic.
But somehow, I had this feeling that I would miss the stars. Maybe because I would be leaving the army soon? As experience showed, I did not have the chance to see such a night sky in the four years I spent away from the army in university.
Although this would not be the last time in my life that I would be staring at such a beautiful night sky,
But for a long long time to come,
This would be the last night under the stars.
I was appointed as the IC for the team of fire markers attached to the unit evaluating the battalion. Since this was the first time I am responsible for a team in a major exercise, my lack of experience translated into a hasty preparation on the 11th hour. Many thanks to Sergeant Fadly from MT line for his help despite my last minute request for motorcycles. Really appreciated him showing me the ropes and fixing some bike problems last minute, although very little repairs could be done with such a little time.
Since I am a brillant man, no job would pose too difficult for me. Limpeh is Ahlangod. (Ah Lang God). Expectedly, we managed to set off on Monday morning at 0745 hrs without a hitch.
To our disappointment, our first day at PLC was a waste of time. We were supposed to set off only on Tuesday morning. The only productive job ATEC required of us on Monday was to collect rations for the umpires and enemies.
On Tuesday, we were told to navigate on our own for 3 hours to familiarise ourselves with the terrain and the sites which we are supposed to "bomb". Navigation had never a problem for me. My army buddy (before I disrupted) was a good navigator who seldom "horlan-ed". Tagging along with him and learning his technique allowed me to develop a solid foundation in moving on the ground. Therefore despite not navigating as much as him (since I was the signaller), I am equally adept with a map and compass.
Remember, limpeh is Ahlangod.
With the bombing sites at our finger tips, we eagerly awaited for the moment (to bomb people) that never came. It was to be revealed to us later that the officer up there did not exercise his utilities and activate us, thus depriving us of the chance throw thunderflashes at pathetic soldiers. We could only clutch our thunderflashes in tears and go to sleep in the mosquito infested night.
The next night was similar. We had to scout our bombing sites (this time in the night) and wait in stand by mode. The only difference was that this time we had to wait in the open compared to a training shed the previous night. After all the preparation had been done, me and my friends parked our bikes and rested at our holding area. There was only one thing left to do before the moment of truth came.
Wait.
With each passing minute, whatever interest we had would soon be replaced by fatigue and boredom. Suddenly, we heard a shuffle in the bushes and a dark shadow emerged and strolled across the junction. Startled by the presence of so many humans (there was a whole company of soldiers camping at our holding area with us), the wild boar mustered whatever courage it had and sprinted back into his cover among the bushes.
There wasn't much of any interesting episodes after the pig, and for the first time in the night, I had the chance to sit back and took in whatever it was worth. Stacking my SBO and field pack on the rack of my motorcycle, I did a well rehearsed drill performed so flawlessly many times over the years.
To lie down flat on a motorcycle.
Did that remind you of xiao long nuu sleeping on a rope in "The Return of the Condor Heros"? There were a couple of similarities between my stunt and hers. Both needed skill to execute, and comfort would only be felt for the masters. Beginners would be too unnerved to feel any enjoyment.
So as I lay down on the bike and fed the moquitoes, my mind started to wander as usual. I was rather surprised that I did not horlan while navigating in the night. Maybe because I was on bike so any mistakes could easily be rectified by retracing the path. Or maybe because of the way I find my way around.
"Just go in the general direction and confirm your ground whenever you reach a junction or a significant landmark." - My army buddy four years ago.
Sounds like how I find my way around in life as well, only that it would show how aimless my life had been. I don't have any specific goal in life (as yet). I live my life with a general gut feeling and time and again take stock of myself whenever I realised the need to.
So the advice my buddy gave me was useful in terms of navigation but not in life. I won't lose my way in desolate places but I lost my way in the midst of people. Girls won't find any sense of security in me. haha
Suddenly I realised that my old friends were up in the sky. They had been there for me in Tekong, ROC, Wallaby, whatever, and whenever I am thinking of what to do with my life. They were the landmarks which I had been using to "confirm ground" in my life. They were always there for me when I had to ruminate things my mind.
They are the stars.
In Tekong, I just wanted to go home back in the mainland. In ROC, I wanted to put down that stupid signal set, disrupt, and continue with my studies. In Wallaby, I was actually happy to be there because it was a free trip and the scenary was beautiful. In LCK, I was actually admiring the stars for the first time. I was a fool not to have appreciated them when they were more brillant overseas. But nonetheless in LCK, they had not lost much of their sparkle.
Would they fall like Heaven's coins?
Rationally they won't. Romatically they would. I think I am more rational than romantic.
But somehow, I had this feeling that I would miss the stars. Maybe because I would be leaving the army soon? As experience showed, I did not have the chance to see such a night sky in the four years I spent away from the army in university.
Although this would not be the last time in my life that I would be staring at such a beautiful night sky,
But for a long long time to come,
This would be the last night under the stars.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Last Goal In RH
I cleared half a day of leave today as advised by my bosses because they could not promise ORD personnels like me and the commanders a full block leave prior to our ORD dates. Determined not to spend this rare weekday afternoon alone, but yet troubled by the fact that most of my friends were busy working, I headed back to my uni hostel to play hardcourt football.
Another reason that formed part of the inpetus for me to return was that today could well be the last time I am able to play with my friends back there because their exams start next week. It would not be polite to disturb them then, and after their exams most of them would move out of hall for their annual long vacation. To make it simple,
If I don't go back today, I would never have the chance to.
Prior to the football, I had tea with them in comm hall. It was nice catching up with them and learning of they plan to do after graduation. It was still early after tea, only 1700. People would only trickle down to the hardcourt after 1730. Without standing on ceremony, I accepted Tweety's invitation to his room for a bout of winning eleven 9.
Today's game did not bear the usual rivalry back in the old days. My Ronaldinho and Ronaldo did not look menacing, considering they used to glide through Tweety's defence effortlessly. On the other hand, his Veron just passed through balls after through balls for Adriano to pounce on. Final score? 0-2. Possession? 30%-70%.
I was raped today.
To add insult to injury, Tweety wasn't paying particular attention to the game. In fact, we weren't concentrating on the game. If a third party were to observe how we were playing, we would appear as two idiots staring blankly at the screen punching buttons on the controllers.
Our mind was not on the game but more of chatting.
Tweety had the intention of joining the education service as a PE teacher, and took the opportunity to consult me on several matters. Things like payscale, prospects, etc. I could only give him whatever I knew because I have not joined the service as well. All my knowledge was from friends who are currently teaching now. PE teaching should be the ideal career for him as it complements his lifestyle and character. He is a good sportsman, and the restraints of a 9 to 5 job would definitely take its toll on his sports (He plays football for a club). Moreover he is not materialistic or ambitious, so teaching PE would be the perfect choice :)
Finally it was time to play football at the hardcourt. I must admit my touches had long deserted me. I was outclassed almost everywhere on the court! People were playing pinball all around me and I was reduced to chasing shadows. Even Tweety was reluctant to pass me the ball because I couldn't get it accurately to wherever I wanted it to go.
My incompetence aside, I had many fond memories of this hardcourt. It was where I received my "divine" skills, and made my hall friends. I had even literally broke an arm and a leg while playing in it.
What happened?
Many thanks to Michael Bollocks for giving me a challenge in the rush of blood to send me landing on one arm, in the process dislocating my elbow 1 month before my 3rd sem exams. The dislocated toe was self inflicted. I slided at Tommy the sexy footballer during inter block games in a failed attempt to impress girls. Those were the days of being young and impetuous. I couldn't even remember now when was the last time I slided at someone.
It was also the place which bred our fury against the star-studded final year team when I was a freshie. The final years then would invade the hardcourt in their gang and shove others aside. Diplomatically they would rotate the games among the teams, applying the "one goal rule". However, they were so good that my year one team would concede a goal in less than a minute and the other final year teams would play close to 20 minutes before conceding. Meritocracy abused?
Things got better during our second year. After the final years had graduated, they left behind a void in the pool which me and my gang of friends quickly filled. I was fortunate to find myself in that window when the first team needed new players. Had I joined NUS a year earlier, it would be difficult to break into the first team. A year earlier would mean spending two years on the bench while watching the final years play. A year later would deprive me of developing the fury and impetus to become a footballing god after all the abuses from the final years. Life at the hardcourt was the best during my second year, because that was when me and my gang of friends from my batch would swarm the hardcourt everyday. Some of them would even get there BEFORE me. FFB (fuck fuck boy) from china would always wear his egoistic basketball jersey which carried his name and start ramming the ball towards the wall straight after tea. It was him which I took after his passion for improving his technique.
Our fortunes in the inter hall games (IHG) that year were not very good. We drew with SH 1-1 before a trashing by KR 0-5 in the group stages. Needless to say, we got knocked out in the group stages and that disappointing defeat was the reason why many of gang left hall after that year. Disillusioned and jaded. Snow, Dong, Xiao Ming, ffb, haiz... Even Bollocks went overseas for an exchange programme.
That left me perpetually alone in hall for my third year.
Being the sore loser as I had always been, I was the only one left in the gang who could not take that 0-5 lying down. I swore vengence, and took up captaincy of the hall team to wrong our mistakes made in the previous year and exact revenge on the demons who delivered each of those 5 goals into Tweety's net. Nevermind those who had departed and deserted. I could carry on this quest however lofty and hefty it might be. Ahlangod never swallows shame and bear the humiliation for life. The day of justice will prevail.
From my position today, it was a miracle that I had spent many solitary hours at the hardcourt in the evening after my lessons perfecting my basics. I was just a crazy football fiend passing balls to an invisible friend which was the wall, dribbling the ball past basketball players and invisible opponents, and aiming my freekicks at the basket ball post as if I was David Beckham lining up the most important freekick for England. I felt quite lonely during my third year, and football was the only friend which I found solace in. Almost everyday was spent thinking about my touches, tactics, positioning, tracking opponents, fanciful tricks by Ronaldinho, fitness, juggling, anything amazing to do with a ball. One thing the ball had taught me,
Never give up trying. Miracles happen because man did not stop trying.
I couldn't believe it the first time I managed to transfer the ball from my left ankle to my right ankle without letting the ball touch the floor, or when I managed to balance the ball on my right lace for more that I thought was possible. Those sessions alone in the hardcourt paid their dividends. I finally tamed to ball. It went and did whatever I wanted it to. The ball had changed from an adversary to a friend. A soul mate which listened to me and my feet. I had developed a fetish for the ball. (omfg)
Fortunately, those hard work paid off during IHG. Due to my stubborn, autocratic, and uncompromising leadership, we managed to beat KE7 3-0 and lost to EH 0-7 during the groups stages. We qualified for the semi-final nonetheless, and beat TH the defending champions 1-0!!! The win was a fluke. A fortuitous early goal followed by 60 minutes of non-stop camping. Although we eventually lost to SH 0-2 in the final, we were considered over achievers by plaudits and pundits alike in hall. Our place among the legends of RH of our era were cemented. Never before had a minnow hall like ours had the audacity and courage to upset the goliaths in the IHG scene. We had set the precedence.
We had buried the ghosts of the previous year.
That win also brought me instant celebrity status in hall. Suddenly total strangers in hall would smile at me or give me a "good job" encouragement as I went to the comm hall for my meals. As I struggled to cope with the newly found fame and status as the football maestro in hall, all of which I did not expect and deserve because I knew I was not a footballer of a high calibre.
All I wanted to do was to right the wrongs of the previous year.
Fortunately God had listened to my prayers and answered them in spectacular fashion. All that I had prayed for was given. I rest my case. It was time to move out of hall into another phase of my NUS life. To ease myself into my final year and devote fully into my failing studies and imminent final year project (FYP).
But that victory had won more things than celebration. It won me more friends than I had ever imagined. Ok maybe winning friends was not a very appropriate term to use. The victory made me realise I wasn't alone in hall. Many peers belonging to the same batch as me in hall stood up and recognised my achievements. Some of them were even in positions of authority. In fact, they had formed the bulk of the JCRC, the highest executive student body in hall.
They had given me an award during dinner and dance as a form of recognition, full points for soccer as a hall activity for my contributions as captain (which would be immaterial since I had no intention of staying for my fourth year), and most importantly of all, they put me on the master's list without my knowledge and consent. (The master's list was the holy grail in hall appeals for staying back. It represented the residents whom the Hall Master would personally like to keep in hall for the coming academic year. Its authority would be unchallenged by OSA, the Office of Student Affairs, a perennial nemesis to us) .
Unfortunately, I was not the least bit interested in the material gains like awards or points. I was grateful to them for approaching me to join their tables during tea and dinner, and including me in their circle of friends. I had also managed to break into Tweety's circle of friends in hall. It was no doubt due to the much interaction and consultation with him as he was my vice-captain. A choice made out of total rationality because he was the only player in our hall to be in the NUS soccer team. He must had more contacts and experience than me. The only thing I had in excess than him was the anger and determination to succeed. To him football was just a game. To me then it wasn't just a simple game.
It was war.
It was aptly epitomised in our winning eleven clashes. The confrontations of the giants. No blood would be left unspilled. Winner takes all. Loser treats supper. Simple as that. No room for weaklings.
The football fiend who trained and practiced his skills in solitary in the evenings had not gone unnoticed.
He was only unmentioned.
It was friends who convinced me to accept their gesture of goodwill as mentioned previously concerning the Master's List. A late bloomer in hall, I was prepared to put my FYP ON THE LINE for one good year of stay in hall at long last. I had envisaged my final year in hall to be surrounded in the company of friends and football. Only this time,
I was terribly right!
Even Bollocks and ffb had returned to hall. My batch having finally became the final years, had formed a solid solidarity and was determined to encourage friends from our batch to return and enjoy one last year of the Raffles Experience. That meant even more of my old friends had returned!
Everything went right for me during my final year. Friends were there, company was never found wanting during tea and dinner, supper with Bollocks and Tweety were in abundance, Dota sessions with Onn Chai and his gang of pro gamers were distracting me from my FYP...
I even had lunch with 3 girls during dinner on a Sunday evening! That was quite a feat considering I had consumed my rations either alone or with guys throughout my previous 3 years in hall. And on a Sunday evenings when people were scarcely around, finding people, let alone girls, for dinner was an exceptional achievement! Moreover, as I continue to gloat in my moment of glory, the 3 girls were all pretty girls widely vouched for in hall. Adele, Charmaine, and Wen Hsin. All exotic beauties in their own right. heh. Could you imagine the smug on my face then?
Fortunes during IHG were even better. Poetic justice prevailed everywhere. We banished all demons once and for all during that season. Whichever teams that trashed us in the past were returned the favour by us. We beat KE7 and our old demons KR by 2-1 in the group stages to emerge as group winners in style. In the following semi-finals, EH which gave us 7 without reply the previous season, were beaten after a tightly contested game that went down to the wire.
That game saw us playing in the prominent NUS field #1 which by its location guaranteed spectators in the weekday evening. Our hall had the advantage of proximity than EH to the field, and that explained why for the first time in many years, we had more supporters than them in ANY game. Maybe also because the hall had higher expectations of our team due to the giant slaying acts of previous season, and hoped to see that again against our arch rivals. Our soccer team was one of the few "can make it" teams in RH which could really make the elite halls a good run for their money. To cut short on my bull shit,
My hall turned out in force.
The game went to penalties as the score remained at 0-0 after 120 minutes of football. We eventually won the shoot out 4-3, as the last 3 penalties did not find the goal. To add insult to injury, their captain and star performer of the game "tiang-ed" the goal post for the last penalty and lost the game for them.
That could only meant exhilaration for us.
The moment of brotherhood when all of us wrapped arms across each other's shoulders during the shootout and running towards Tweety after the last kick was unforgettable. Bring in the pitch invasion by the most hardcore of our fans (namely the final years) and the climax was completed. It was a day of triumph for all who believed in RH, for all of my friends who supporters who had faith in us.
But still that wasn't the final. We had lost to the best team in the tournament, TH in the final. 0-4. More than made up for the freak 1-0 loss to us last season. So much for poetic justice.
The ball still eluded me like a satellite. It did not pay to daydream about the past in the middle of the court. I had played close to 2 hours of football without a goal to my name, and my friends were shouting for the next goal to be the last before dinner. I had a penchant for scoring so many "dinner" goals in the hardcourt down the years. Coupled with the fact that I haven't scored yet today, I was determined to make the last goal MINE.
In what seemed to be a hopeless attempt at getting the ball from the silky feet of Kumar, he lost control of the ball in a rare occasion. His attempt to drag the ball back was too forceful, and the ball ended up half a stride out of his control. I sprinted forward to occupy that space and left him behind me. Running directly down the line, I pushed the ball past the last defender and turned 90 degrees just as I hit the goal line. With no one able to catch up with me within 2 seconds, I floated parallel to the goal line and calmly slotted the ball into the empty goal after passing the near post.
GOAL!!!
Finally we could all take a shower and go for dinner. We had decided to go to Clementi for a bite. As I looked out from the bus window for one last look at the hardcourt,
I knew I would miss this place for a long time to come.
夜已深，我仿佛听到风雨声
一阵阵，洒落在路中寂寞人
在风里，在雨里，走过的路程
已经随着岁月的声音消失在黄昏
情不归，一个人空巷独徘徊
找不回，往日的情谊藏心底
有你的，有我的，成长的痕迹
这里埋藏过去的感情，教人心碎
生命就像流水，像轻烟慢慢延续
我的记忆却渐渐蒙上尘埃
回来的路上，不断回头望
在那依然成长的地方，以往成长的地方
从今以后，风雨有谁相伴？
从今以后，风雨有我相伴
Another reason that formed part of the inpetus for me to return was that today could well be the last time I am able to play with my friends back there because their exams start next week. It would not be polite to disturb them then, and after their exams most of them would move out of hall for their annual long vacation. To make it simple,
If I don't go back today, I would never have the chance to.
Prior to the football, I had tea with them in comm hall. It was nice catching up with them and learning of they plan to do after graduation. It was still early after tea, only 1700. People would only trickle down to the hardcourt after 1730. Without standing on ceremony, I accepted Tweety's invitation to his room for a bout of winning eleven 9.
Today's game did not bear the usual rivalry back in the old days. My Ronaldinho and Ronaldo did not look menacing, considering they used to glide through Tweety's defence effortlessly. On the other hand, his Veron just passed through balls after through balls for Adriano to pounce on. Final score? 0-2. Possession? 30%-70%.
I was raped today.
To add insult to injury, Tweety wasn't paying particular attention to the game. In fact, we weren't concentrating on the game. If a third party were to observe how we were playing, we would appear as two idiots staring blankly at the screen punching buttons on the controllers.
Our mind was not on the game but more of chatting.
Tweety had the intention of joining the education service as a PE teacher, and took the opportunity to consult me on several matters. Things like payscale, prospects, etc. I could only give him whatever I knew because I have not joined the service as well. All my knowledge was from friends who are currently teaching now. PE teaching should be the ideal career for him as it complements his lifestyle and character. He is a good sportsman, and the restraints of a 9 to 5 job would definitely take its toll on his sports (He plays football for a club). Moreover he is not materialistic or ambitious, so teaching PE would be the perfect choice :)
Finally it was time to play football at the hardcourt. I must admit my touches had long deserted me. I was outclassed almost everywhere on the court! People were playing pinball all around me and I was reduced to chasing shadows. Even Tweety was reluctant to pass me the ball because I couldn't get it accurately to wherever I wanted it to go.
My incompetence aside, I had many fond memories of this hardcourt. It was where I received my "divine" skills, and made my hall friends. I had even literally broke an arm and a leg while playing in it.
What happened?
Many thanks to Michael Bollocks for giving me a challenge in the rush of blood to send me landing on one arm, in the process dislocating my elbow 1 month before my 3rd sem exams. The dislocated toe was self inflicted. I slided at Tommy the sexy footballer during inter block games in a failed attempt to impress girls. Those were the days of being young and impetuous. I couldn't even remember now when was the last time I slided at someone.
It was also the place which bred our fury against the star-studded final year team when I was a freshie. The final years then would invade the hardcourt in their gang and shove others aside. Diplomatically they would rotate the games among the teams, applying the "one goal rule". However, they were so good that my year one team would concede a goal in less than a minute and the other final year teams would play close to 20 minutes before conceding. Meritocracy abused?
Things got better during our second year. After the final years had graduated, they left behind a void in the pool which me and my gang of friends quickly filled. I was fortunate to find myself in that window when the first team needed new players. Had I joined NUS a year earlier, it would be difficult to break into the first team. A year earlier would mean spending two years on the bench while watching the final years play. A year later would deprive me of developing the fury and impetus to become a footballing god after all the abuses from the final years. Life at the hardcourt was the best during my second year, because that was when me and my gang of friends from my batch would swarm the hardcourt everyday. Some of them would even get there BEFORE me. FFB (fuck fuck boy) from china would always wear his egoistic basketball jersey which carried his name and start ramming the ball towards the wall straight after tea. It was him which I took after his passion for improving his technique.
Our fortunes in the inter hall games (IHG) that year were not very good. We drew with SH 1-1 before a trashing by KR 0-5 in the group stages. Needless to say, we got knocked out in the group stages and that disappointing defeat was the reason why many of gang left hall after that year. Disillusioned and jaded. Snow, Dong, Xiao Ming, ffb, haiz... Even Bollocks went overseas for an exchange programme.
That left me perpetually alone in hall for my third year.
Being the sore loser as I had always been, I was the only one left in the gang who could not take that 0-5 lying down. I swore vengence, and took up captaincy of the hall team to wrong our mistakes made in the previous year and exact revenge on the demons who delivered each of those 5 goals into Tweety's net. Nevermind those who had departed and deserted. I could carry on this quest however lofty and hefty it might be. Ahlangod never swallows shame and bear the humiliation for life. The day of justice will prevail.
From my position today, it was a miracle that I had spent many solitary hours at the hardcourt in the evening after my lessons perfecting my basics. I was just a crazy football fiend passing balls to an invisible friend which was the wall, dribbling the ball past basketball players and invisible opponents, and aiming my freekicks at the basket ball post as if I was David Beckham lining up the most important freekick for England. I felt quite lonely during my third year, and football was the only friend which I found solace in. Almost everyday was spent thinking about my touches, tactics, positioning, tracking opponents, fanciful tricks by Ronaldinho, fitness, juggling, anything amazing to do with a ball. One thing the ball had taught me,
Never give up trying. Miracles happen because man did not stop trying.
I couldn't believe it the first time I managed to transfer the ball from my left ankle to my right ankle without letting the ball touch the floor, or when I managed to balance the ball on my right lace for more that I thought was possible. Those sessions alone in the hardcourt paid their dividends. I finally tamed to ball. It went and did whatever I wanted it to. The ball had changed from an adversary to a friend. A soul mate which listened to me and my feet. I had developed a fetish for the ball. (omfg)
Fortunately, those hard work paid off during IHG. Due to my stubborn, autocratic, and uncompromising leadership, we managed to beat KE7 3-0 and lost to EH 0-7 during the groups stages. We qualified for the semi-final nonetheless, and beat TH the defending champions 1-0!!! The win was a fluke. A fortuitous early goal followed by 60 minutes of non-stop camping. Although we eventually lost to SH 0-2 in the final, we were considered over achievers by plaudits and pundits alike in hall. Our place among the legends of RH of our era were cemented. Never before had a minnow hall like ours had the audacity and courage to upset the goliaths in the IHG scene. We had set the precedence.
We had buried the ghosts of the previous year.
That win also brought me instant celebrity status in hall. Suddenly total strangers in hall would smile at me or give me a "good job" encouragement as I went to the comm hall for my meals. As I struggled to cope with the newly found fame and status as the football maestro in hall, all of which I did not expect and deserve because I knew I was not a footballer of a high calibre.
All I wanted to do was to right the wrongs of the previous year.
Fortunately God had listened to my prayers and answered them in spectacular fashion. All that I had prayed for was given. I rest my case. It was time to move out of hall into another phase of my NUS life. To ease myself into my final year and devote fully into my failing studies and imminent final year project (FYP).
But that victory had won more things than celebration. It won me more friends than I had ever imagined. Ok maybe winning friends was not a very appropriate term to use. The victory made me realise I wasn't alone in hall. Many peers belonging to the same batch as me in hall stood up and recognised my achievements. Some of them were even in positions of authority. In fact, they had formed the bulk of the JCRC, the highest executive student body in hall.
They had given me an award during dinner and dance as a form of recognition, full points for soccer as a hall activity for my contributions as captain (which would be immaterial since I had no intention of staying for my fourth year), and most importantly of all, they put me on the master's list without my knowledge and consent. (The master's list was the holy grail in hall appeals for staying back. It represented the residents whom the Hall Master would personally like to keep in hall for the coming academic year. Its authority would be unchallenged by OSA, the Office of Student Affairs, a perennial nemesis to us) .
Unfortunately, I was not the least bit interested in the material gains like awards or points. I was grateful to them for approaching me to join their tables during tea and dinner, and including me in their circle of friends. I had also managed to break into Tweety's circle of friends in hall. It was no doubt due to the much interaction and consultation with him as he was my vice-captain. A choice made out of total rationality because he was the only player in our hall to be in the NUS soccer team. He must had more contacts and experience than me. The only thing I had in excess than him was the anger and determination to succeed. To him football was just a game. To me then it wasn't just a simple game.
It was war.
It was aptly epitomised in our winning eleven clashes. The confrontations of the giants. No blood would be left unspilled. Winner takes all. Loser treats supper. Simple as that. No room for weaklings.
The football fiend who trained and practiced his skills in solitary in the evenings had not gone unnoticed.
He was only unmentioned.
It was friends who convinced me to accept their gesture of goodwill as mentioned previously concerning the Master's List. A late bloomer in hall, I was prepared to put my FYP ON THE LINE for one good year of stay in hall at long last. I had envisaged my final year in hall to be surrounded in the company of friends and football. Only this time,
I was terribly right!
Even Bollocks and ffb had returned to hall. My batch having finally became the final years, had formed a solid solidarity and was determined to encourage friends from our batch to return and enjoy one last year of the Raffles Experience. That meant even more of my old friends had returned!
Everything went right for me during my final year. Friends were there, company was never found wanting during tea and dinner, supper with Bollocks and Tweety were in abundance, Dota sessions with Onn Chai and his gang of pro gamers were distracting me from my FYP...
I even had lunch with 3 girls during dinner on a Sunday evening! That was quite a feat considering I had consumed my rations either alone or with guys throughout my previous 3 years in hall. And on a Sunday evenings when people were scarcely around, finding people, let alone girls, for dinner was an exceptional achievement! Moreover, as I continue to gloat in my moment of glory, the 3 girls were all pretty girls widely vouched for in hall. Adele, Charmaine, and Wen Hsin. All exotic beauties in their own right. heh. Could you imagine the smug on my face then?
Fortunes during IHG were even better. Poetic justice prevailed everywhere. We banished all demons once and for all during that season. Whichever teams that trashed us in the past were returned the favour by us. We beat KE7 and our old demons KR by 2-1 in the group stages to emerge as group winners in style. In the following semi-finals, EH which gave us 7 without reply the previous season, were beaten after a tightly contested game that went down to the wire.
That game saw us playing in the prominent NUS field #1 which by its location guaranteed spectators in the weekday evening. Our hall had the advantage of proximity than EH to the field, and that explained why for the first time in many years, we had more supporters than them in ANY game. Maybe also because the hall had higher expectations of our team due to the giant slaying acts of previous season, and hoped to see that again against our arch rivals. Our soccer team was one of the few "can make it" teams in RH which could really make the elite halls a good run for their money. To cut short on my bull shit,
My hall turned out in force.
The game went to penalties as the score remained at 0-0 after 120 minutes of football. We eventually won the shoot out 4-3, as the last 3 penalties did not find the goal. To add insult to injury, their captain and star performer of the game "tiang-ed" the goal post for the last penalty and lost the game for them.
That could only meant exhilaration for us.
The moment of brotherhood when all of us wrapped arms across each other's shoulders during the shootout and running towards Tweety after the last kick was unforgettable. Bring in the pitch invasion by the most hardcore of our fans (namely the final years) and the climax was completed. It was a day of triumph for all who believed in RH, for all of my friends who supporters who had faith in us.
But still that wasn't the final. We had lost to the best team in the tournament, TH in the final. 0-4. More than made up for the freak 1-0 loss to us last season. So much for poetic justice.
The ball still eluded me like a satellite. It did not pay to daydream about the past in the middle of the court. I had played close to 2 hours of football without a goal to my name, and my friends were shouting for the next goal to be the last before dinner. I had a penchant for scoring so many "dinner" goals in the hardcourt down the years. Coupled with the fact that I haven't scored yet today, I was determined to make the last goal MINE.
In what seemed to be a hopeless attempt at getting the ball from the silky feet of Kumar, he lost control of the ball in a rare occasion. His attempt to drag the ball back was too forceful, and the ball ended up half a stride out of his control. I sprinted forward to occupy that space and left him behind me. Running directly down the line, I pushed the ball past the last defender and turned 90 degrees just as I hit the goal line. With no one able to catch up with me within 2 seconds, I floated parallel to the goal line and calmly slotted the ball into the empty goal after passing the near post.
GOAL!!!
Finally we could all take a shower and go for dinner. We had decided to go to Clementi for a bite. As I looked out from the bus window for one last look at the hardcourt,
I knew I would miss this place for a long time to come.
夜已深，我仿佛听到风雨声
一阵阵，洒落在路中寂寞人
在风里，在雨里，走过的路程
已经随着岁月的声音消失在黄昏
情不归，一个人空巷独徘徊
找不回，往日的情谊藏心底
有你的，有我的，成长的痕迹
这里埋藏过去的感情，教人心碎
生命就像流水，像轻烟慢慢延续
我的记忆却渐渐蒙上尘埃
回来的路上，不断回头望
在那依然成长的地方，以往成长的地方
从今以后，风雨有谁相伴？
从今以后，风雨有我相伴
Saturday, April 08, 2006
A Boring Saturday
Today is one of those boring saturday afternoons. Nothing to do, no one to go out with, wasting a precious weekend aimlessly. To be honest I am partly responsible for not arranging any activities today. If I had known that boredom would be so deranging, I should had asked someone out.
Easier said than done though.
Friends in NUS? They are busy preparing for their coming exams. Friends around my age? Either busy with work or busy with their own lives. For those who had began dating, saturdays are almost exclusively reserved for their other ones. Even if I was lucky enough to find someone available for a meal or drink, I would struggle to maintain a conversation. I had been away from the mainstream life that my peers are living in for too long. Their experiences and concerns are very incoherent from mine.
Examples?
While they are concerned with insurances, sound investment plans, blue chip shares, unit trusts, MONEY, finding a good date, relationship problems, COE prices, grievances at work... I find myself living in a totally different planet from them. What I am concerned with, were things that used to bother them 3 to 4 years ago.
The usual army grievances.
The present isn't like the past, when I used to meet my friends during the weekends and start complaining/comparing about our contrasting army life styles. All my friends had gone past that phase. It would not be appropriate to go out with them and start army talk, because that would make a 25 year old sound like an 18 year old. But I couldn't fit into most of their conversations either, because I have no knowledge of what they are experiencing out there. Solution?
Don't talk loh.
At least now I am wiser. I only meet people for activities that do not require talking. (E.g. soccer.) And I leave almost immediately after the game. Partly because it's 1900 on a sunday night and I need to book in, and partly because of the what I said earlier: Lack of a conversation topic.
For female friends, the situation is as discouraging. All of them had started working already. I tried going with a couple of them since I got back to the army. Asking them how are they doing would be a fatal mistake. They would either start talking about their grievances at work, or events that are happening outside of Bedok Camp. None of which I would be able to follow up with a proper conversation without genuinely looking lost. Worst still, some of the more sensitive ones would try to condescend and talk about army stuff.
Which I am so ashamed of myself when that happens.
Going out with women also hurts me in another way. My wallet. No matter how much they are complaining about how low their pay are, they are still earning 4 figure salaries at the very least. I only take home $586.++ per month.
So where does the pain come from?
Most of my dates with women would be meeting up for meals. Being the stubborn chauvinist, my pride would not allow the girl to pay if she did not drop any hints to go dutch. The damage is not very much if I do that once in a month. But if I were to go out for meals with ladies on a consistent basis on every weekend, the chances of me going broke would be higher. And these dates are purely meeting up sessions, with no hope of further progress :)
Conclusion?
Going out with women is not cheap. So only go out with the one that you are really interested in.
Yah lah, I am very kiam siap. I deserved to be left on the shelf.
So here I am, blogging my life away on a Saturday night. To add to the list of no life activities which I had been engaging since 160505 last year, I trained a maplestory warrior and played dota. Today "Horlisong" is a proud warrior in Aquila, and was recently promoted to level 39 an hour ago! Anybody who is holding on to spare warrior equipment for males please let me know.
Let's all help to make "Horlisong" the number 1 Crusader in south east asia!
Staying at home also helped me realise that I had neglected someone for a long time unconsciously. She had been doing all the cleaning, washing, and cooking for everyone all these years. No, my family had never been rich enough to engage a Maria to help wth the chores.
That woman is my mother.
Today for once, I had been "stalking" my mum for the entire day. Okay, stalking sounded so obscene. What I really meant was I kept track of what she would do in a typical Saturday.
First, she started the day by going to the market to do her groceries and getting breakfast for us. When she called back (and woke me up in the process) to ask for help to bring back stuff, I couldn't believe I grumbled before dragging myself down stairs. Well, that's me, a lazy and useless piece of shit.
For the rest of the morning, she was busy doing laundary accumulated over the week. (That included my clothes I brought back from army.) Told her so many times not to bend over to reach for things on the floor but to squat, but she just wouldn't listen.
In the afternoon she received a call from the wife of that good-for-nothing uncle of mine. My uncle had drafted a will to transfer his share of his flat to his mistress. Why couldn't he leave everyone in peace even after his death? Must he wreak more havoc from hell? I really pity his wife, for she had to suffer a life time of grievances. That phone call certainly got mum's mood to a low, but no tears this time :)
Mum slept lazily on the sofa for the afternoon.
She did some family accounts after she woke up, then switched on the tv to watch some Jacky Wu variety show. The only thing I could do for her today was to get her dinner. After dinner, she went to her room and read some papers, followed by more tv. Channel 8 showed some Chow Yuen Fatt movie today, and she was engrossed in it.
She was fast asleep an hour ago.
If I wasn't at home, no one else in the family would have known that her Saturdays were spent like that. Dad would be out driving his cab as usual, my bro would be involved in his CCA, and my sister busy with work and dating.
I would not know how she thinks of such a lifestyle, but I honestly felt that it is a lonely life. My mother had been quietly supporting us in the background while all of us enjoyed lives like never before. And since I find going with girls a hassle at least while I am still in the army, I had decided to keep her company on whatever weekends I have left unburnt.
Not that this would be a decision which would please her. So often than not, she had publicly voiced her displeasure at me for camping in front of the computer the whole day during weekends.
"Nian qing ren ying gai chu qu huo dong yi xia!"
Which means young people should get involved in more social activities (like dating). Every lunar new year, she would pepper me with questions about my disgusting singlehood and implore me to get married soon so that she could carry her grandchild/(grandson).
Mum, I haven't found the girl of my dreams yet! Could you just let me keep you company in the weekends while I can before I move to NIE this July?
I had realised, that I had been taking after that useless uncle of mine over the past few years. There is no point in wasting time on women who would not even have me in their thoughts, let alone hope that they would show me some concern. It is time I made good of my resolution.
To be a good man and not a nice man.
I am not aversed to women, but I should have known better who are the ones that deserve attention.
The only woman in this world that I owed most and am obliged to take care of for the rest of my life,
Is my mother.
Easier said than done though.
Friends in NUS? They are busy preparing for their coming exams. Friends around my age? Either busy with work or busy with their own lives. For those who had began dating, saturdays are almost exclusively reserved for their other ones. Even if I was lucky enough to find someone available for a meal or drink, I would struggle to maintain a conversation. I had been away from the mainstream life that my peers are living in for too long. Their experiences and concerns are very incoherent from mine.
Examples?
While they are concerned with insurances, sound investment plans, blue chip shares, unit trusts, MONEY, finding a good date, relationship problems, COE prices, grievances at work... I find myself living in a totally different planet from them. What I am concerned with, were things that used to bother them 3 to 4 years ago.
The usual army grievances.
The present isn't like the past, when I used to meet my friends during the weekends and start complaining/comparing about our contrasting army life styles. All my friends had gone past that phase. It would not be appropriate to go out with them and start army talk, because that would make a 25 year old sound like an 18 year old. But I couldn't fit into most of their conversations either, because I have no knowledge of what they are experiencing out there. Solution?
Don't talk loh.
At least now I am wiser. I only meet people for activities that do not require talking. (E.g. soccer.) And I leave almost immediately after the game. Partly because it's 1900 on a sunday night and I need to book in, and partly because of the what I said earlier: Lack of a conversation topic.
For female friends, the situation is as discouraging. All of them had started working already. I tried going with a couple of them since I got back to the army. Asking them how are they doing would be a fatal mistake. They would either start talking about their grievances at work, or events that are happening outside of Bedok Camp. None of which I would be able to follow up with a proper conversation without genuinely looking lost. Worst still, some of the more sensitive ones would try to condescend and talk about army stuff.
Which I am so ashamed of myself when that happens.
Going out with women also hurts me in another way. My wallet. No matter how much they are complaining about how low their pay are, they are still earning 4 figure salaries at the very least. I only take home $586.++ per month.
So where does the pain come from?
Most of my dates with women would be meeting up for meals. Being the stubborn chauvinist, my pride would not allow the girl to pay if she did not drop any hints to go dutch. The damage is not very much if I do that once in a month. But if I were to go out for meals with ladies on a consistent basis on every weekend, the chances of me going broke would be higher. And these dates are purely meeting up sessions, with no hope of further progress :)
Conclusion?
Going out with women is not cheap. So only go out with the one that you are really interested in.
Yah lah, I am very kiam siap. I deserved to be left on the shelf.
So here I am, blogging my life away on a Saturday night. To add to the list of no life activities which I had been engaging since 160505 last year, I trained a maplestory warrior and played dota. Today "Horlisong" is a proud warrior in Aquila, and was recently promoted to level 39 an hour ago! Anybody who is holding on to spare warrior equipment for males please let me know.
Let's all help to make "Horlisong" the number 1 Crusader in south east asia!
Staying at home also helped me realise that I had neglected someone for a long time unconsciously. She had been doing all the cleaning, washing, and cooking for everyone all these years. No, my family had never been rich enough to engage a Maria to help wth the chores.
That woman is my mother.
Today for once, I had been "stalking" my mum for the entire day. Okay, stalking sounded so obscene. What I really meant was I kept track of what she would do in a typical Saturday.
First, she started the day by going to the market to do her groceries and getting breakfast for us. When she called back (and woke me up in the process) to ask for help to bring back stuff, I couldn't believe I grumbled before dragging myself down stairs. Well, that's me, a lazy and useless piece of shit.
For the rest of the morning, she was busy doing laundary accumulated over the week. (That included my clothes I brought back from army.) Told her so many times not to bend over to reach for things on the floor but to squat, but she just wouldn't listen.
In the afternoon she received a call from the wife of that good-for-nothing uncle of mine. My uncle had drafted a will to transfer his share of his flat to his mistress. Why couldn't he leave everyone in peace even after his death? Must he wreak more havoc from hell? I really pity his wife, for she had to suffer a life time of grievances. That phone call certainly got mum's mood to a low, but no tears this time :)
Mum slept lazily on the sofa for the afternoon.
She did some family accounts after she woke up, then switched on the tv to watch some Jacky Wu variety show. The only thing I could do for her today was to get her dinner. After dinner, she went to her room and read some papers, followed by more tv. Channel 8 showed some Chow Yuen Fatt movie today, and she was engrossed in it.
She was fast asleep an hour ago.
If I wasn't at home, no one else in the family would have known that her Saturdays were spent like that. Dad would be out driving his cab as usual, my bro would be involved in his CCA, and my sister busy with work and dating.
I would not know how she thinks of such a lifestyle, but I honestly felt that it is a lonely life. My mother had been quietly supporting us in the background while all of us enjoyed lives like never before. And since I find going with girls a hassle at least while I am still in the army, I had decided to keep her company on whatever weekends I have left unburnt.
Not that this would be a decision which would please her. So often than not, she had publicly voiced her displeasure at me for camping in front of the computer the whole day during weekends.
"Nian qing ren ying gai chu qu huo dong yi xia!"
Which means young people should get involved in more social activities (like dating). Every lunar new year, she would pepper me with questions about my disgusting singlehood and implore me to get married soon so that she could carry her grandchild/(grandson).
Mum, I haven't found the girl of my dreams yet! Could you just let me keep you company in the weekends while I can before I move to NIE this July?
I had realised, that I had been taking after that useless uncle of mine over the past few years. There is no point in wasting time on women who would not even have me in their thoughts, let alone hope that they would show me some concern. It is time I made good of my resolution.
To be a good man and not a nice man.
I am not aversed to women, but I should have known better who are the ones that deserve attention.
The only woman in this world that I owed most and am obliged to take care of for the rest of my life,
Is my mother.
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