Friday. Book out day. Also area cleaning day. As my bunk mates and I tidy up our little home away from home, trading cleaning secrets and discussing future purchases of cleaning equipment, a sudden line of thought sparked:
"If nothing else, the Army is a very effective teacher of cleaning."
Doing 20 push ups for a speck of dust is very motivational to get the right tools and skills to combat dust and dirt. Even items like vacuum cleaners, Magiclean mops, wonder sponges (I kid you not, and it really works!) find their way into our bunks. Through painful trial and error we have also learnt how to polish windows, toilet bowls, urinals and scrub floors of boot stains. Officers, Sergeants, Men; all went through it before and have their own secret method to clean.
My friend returns, complaining that the only mop on our level has been misappropriated, probably by the guys at level 5. He storms up the stairs to liberate it as I note down in our purchase book: "Next book out, remember to buy mop and pail"
---
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Watching paint dry
The paint on my bicycle frame is takes a week to dry! What's up with that! Isn't drying its only job? Its Unbelievable that paint can chow keng (slack off)!
Outsourcing the whole affair to the pros for a proper powder coating. That should solve matters for a good long time.
---
Outsourcing the whole affair to the pros for a proper powder coating. That should solve matters for a good long time.
---
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Running (wild)
Did 10:06 for my 2.4km today. Hmm, not too bad considering my relaxed schedule and that I have been averaging 10:30 - 11:10 for the past few days. Last time I did 09:55 was in BMT and in H(ell)awk company so things has improved, thank goodness. Not going to let the flab win the fight!
My bike is now in a terrible condition, the paint refuses to dry on the damned thing even though it has been days... I have been yearning to ride for such a long time that I forget how it has been to sit on the saddle and gun it out, just like the old days. I guess what I miss the most is the sense of freedom cycling presents you, aggravated by the National Service.
5km run tomorrow. I dread the feeling but know that once my feet pound the asphalt it takes a life of its own. Never mind the sweat, the ache, the pounding of my heart as I take the slope; chasing the wind, that's the only thing that matters for now.
Running wild. And free.
---
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld from M1.
My bike is now in a terrible condition, the paint refuses to dry on the damned thing even though it has been days... I have been yearning to ride for such a long time that I forget how it has been to sit on the saddle and gun it out, just like the old days. I guess what I miss the most is the sense of freedom cycling presents you, aggravated by the National Service.
5km run tomorrow. I dread the feeling but know that once my feet pound the asphalt it takes a life of its own. Never mind the sweat, the ache, the pounding of my heart as I take the slope; chasing the wind, that's the only thing that matters for now.
Running wild. And free.
---
Sent from my BlackBerry Wireless Handheld from M1.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
random short.
I woke up from a dream with a start, my mind shifting gears like a racing car to get me back to speed. My limbs felt stiff after lying at an awkward position for too long. The harsh air con seared my throat while I was resting and now felt as if it was sandpaper. The air, cold and stale rubbed past the sandpaper in my throat. I need to take a breather, I thought, out of this damned coffin.
Stumbling from the truck, The air was cold and moist, clinging to me like a damp towel after showering. The sunlight was heavily filtered through the thick clouds, creating an almost halo like glow around the surrounding vehicles. It was almost like I was in Langkawi, back on a beach resort I've been to when I was 10. Of course, I wasn't in Langkawi, but on a hilltop and just climbed out of a command centre perched on a truck, not a luxurious beachfront hotel.
I leaned against the splotchy, olive green surface. It felt cool, despite the late hour. Men in green, like myself, scurry all over other vehicles, adjusting antennas, set up cables and go about their routine, while I observe them like as if they were in an exhibit in a museum or projected out on a large screen in a movie.
If this was really a movie, I would have lit a cigarette; watching the thin, wispy smoke trail swirl around until it was blown away by the wind while taking in the cold air and the gentle breeze. However it wasn't a movie. I wasn't observing a exhibit, but was part of it. Observed by others crowded in the sky, watching how our little lives play out.
---
Stumbling from the truck, The air was cold and moist, clinging to me like a damp towel after showering. The sunlight was heavily filtered through the thick clouds, creating an almost halo like glow around the surrounding vehicles. It was almost like I was in Langkawi, back on a beach resort I've been to when I was 10. Of course, I wasn't in Langkawi, but on a hilltop and just climbed out of a command centre perched on a truck, not a luxurious beachfront hotel.
I leaned against the splotchy, olive green surface. It felt cool, despite the late hour. Men in green, like myself, scurry all over other vehicles, adjusting antennas, set up cables and go about their routine, while I observe them like as if they were in an exhibit in a museum or projected out on a large screen in a movie.
If this was really a movie, I would have lit a cigarette; watching the thin, wispy smoke trail swirl around until it was blown away by the wind while taking in the cold air and the gentle breeze. However it wasn't a movie. I wasn't observing a exhibit, but was part of it. Observed by others crowded in the sky, watching how our little lives play out.
---
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
temporary reprive
Its raining now, manna from the sky dropping on the parched earth. Dry grass soaking up its goodness, trees sigh their relief.
We stay in bunk, temporary confinement, as we wait out the weather. The cool breeze blows through, emitting their siren call. We, mere men, powerless again their magic, heed their call; to rest, to sleep.
Our men in their rooms, our sergeants, plot our doom, our ruin. Other men in green plough through the jungle, soaked to the bone, chilled to the heart. The siren call goes unheeded, blocked out by the shouting of the RSM and their own pounding heart, as they trek to one checkpoint after another.
But we lie in our bunks, books, phones, PSPs in our hands, knowing all too well it is a temporary reprive. An uneasy settlement.
---
We stay in bunk, temporary confinement, as we wait out the weather. The cool breeze blows through, emitting their siren call. We, mere men, powerless again their magic, heed their call; to rest, to sleep.
Our men in their rooms, our sergeants, plot our doom, our ruin. Other men in green plough through the jungle, soaked to the bone, chilled to the heart. The siren call goes unheeded, blocked out by the shouting of the RSM and their own pounding heart, as they trek to one checkpoint after another.
But we lie in our bunks, books, phones, PSPs in our hands, knowing all too well it is a temporary reprive. An uneasy settlement.
---
Monday, March 8, 2010
approximations
Many National Servicemen buy bolsters.
Many National Servicemen are lonely.
Its not as unrelated as we think.
---
Many National Servicemen are lonely.
Its not as unrelated as we think.
---
Thursday, March 4, 2010
don't sign random pieces of paper
Officer: (plonks down forms for CL and S)
S: (stares at form) what's all this sir?
Officer: Never you mind, just fill it all up and return it asap.
CL: (peers at form) But sir, haven't we already handled this particular form in?
(The officer has, a mere few seconds earlier, made his getaway)
S: No use mate, he's made a run for it. (shrugs) I guess we've better get cracking.
- Couple of hours later -
S: Here are the forms that you wanted sir, both CL's and mine.
Officer: Ah, thank you.
S: (ahem) Sir, wouldn't you tell us a bit more about what the forms are for?
Officer: Oh, the other lot is short of men so we're posting you out during the exercise. Personal signalers to their Master Warrent (Officer) I believe. (Looking slyly at S) Wonder why they're short though...
S: (...) Would it be too late to take back the forms sir?
Officer: (vague smile before making his exit, down stage left)
*footnote* Warrent Officers, are the terror of the army, their main job being to enforce discipline, something they do very well.
S: (sadly informs CL about the outcome)
CL: (shakes head) can't trust 'em officers, not one bit.
---
S: (stares at form) what's all this sir?
Officer: Never you mind, just fill it all up and return it asap.
CL: (peers at form) But sir, haven't we already handled this particular form in?
(The officer has, a mere few seconds earlier, made his getaway)
S: No use mate, he's made a run for it. (shrugs) I guess we've better get cracking.
- Couple of hours later -
S: Here are the forms that you wanted sir, both CL's and mine.
Officer: Ah, thank you.
S: (ahem) Sir, wouldn't you tell us a bit more about what the forms are for?
Officer: Oh, the other lot is short of men so we're posting you out during the exercise. Personal signalers to their Master Warrent (Officer) I believe. (Looking slyly at S) Wonder why they're short though...
S: (...) Would it be too late to take back the forms sir?
Officer: (vague smile before making his exit, down stage left)
*footnote* Warrent Officers, are the terror of the army, their main job being to enforce discipline, something they do very well.
S: (sadly informs CL about the outcome)
CL: (shakes head) can't trust 'em officers, not one bit.
---
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
commitment issues
"You have commitment issues, I understand"
Sharp, slightly condescending and painfully brutal; especially when it means so much to me, more then the dreary job I'm forced into, when it forms a part of the world of hope and dreams I escape into when things gets too boring, too hopeless, too painful.
But yet I understand, perfectly well, logically sound. The issue has spun on its inevitable route; one man cannot serve two masters.
The long wait continues.
---
Sharp, slightly condescending and painfully brutal; especially when it means so much to me, more then the dreary job I'm forced into, when it forms a part of the world of hope and dreams I escape into when things gets too boring, too hopeless, too painful.
But yet I understand, perfectly well, logically sound. The issue has spun on its inevitable route; one man cannot serve two masters.
The long wait continues.
---
Friday, February 19, 2010
Ace sets the pace!
Got into my new unit a few days back, the 2nd Singapore Infantry Brigade, Signal Company. The Brigade with a Ace of Spaces as a logo. Interesting. However, that isn't our final destination, which is the ever elusive 16 C4i Battalion, which is forming up in JUNE! Till then, we listen to conflicting orders, advice that might not apply to us in the new unit, promises of doom as we switch over and a lack of blankets to cover us at night.
And we're participating in the YOG! Although we don't know whether we'll be deployed as ground staff (sir, the toilet is that way) or as mass dance teachers(!!!) Yes, the newest skill a signaler should be able to master, mass dance techniques! And apparently, a fuse blew somewhere in someone's mind. If it happens though, we are gearing up to fight to the death for the JC and poly slots.
We are slated to shift thrice in 1.5 years which means our house building plans (ie settling in and growing roots into our bunk) is delayed for a long while. Bureaucracy. Sucks. But after so many changes, we are quite used to the chaos. I think we'll grow to the place, after all it is quite a comfy hole we have here.
Many changes, the end is not yet in sight. I am thinking of gearing up for my Combat Skills Badge, an award normally awarded to SGTs and officers but available for us too. My left chest is feeling rather drafty...
---
And we're participating in the YOG! Although we don't know whether we'll be deployed as ground staff (sir, the toilet is that way) or as mass dance teachers(!!!) Yes, the newest skill a signaler should be able to master, mass dance techniques! And apparently, a fuse blew somewhere in someone's mind. If it happens though, we are gearing up to fight to the death for the JC and poly slots.
We are slated to shift thrice in 1.5 years which means our house building plans (ie settling in and growing roots into our bunk) is delayed for a long while. Bureaucracy. Sucks. But after so many changes, we are quite used to the chaos. I think we'll grow to the place, after all it is quite a comfy hole we have here.
Many changes, the end is not yet in sight. I am thinking of gearing up for my Combat Skills Badge, an award normally awarded to SGTs and officers but available for us too. My left chest is feeling rather drafty...
---
Thursday, February 11, 2010
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