Left off quite abruptly there. But Leo and Murder were calling me to play, and I couldn't resist. It doesn't really help my case when my skills are rapidly deteriorating at an astonishing rate. Sometimes I can't even recognise my own character, much less control it. Puts the statement "practice makes perfect" in a less than perfect light. I've had more than my fair share of off-days before, but being raped twice in a day is ridiculous. It does lower one's morale considerably.


Saturday was an entertaining affair, though by no means less humiliating. After hyping the BTT 17 vs BTT 18 match to an embarrassing extent, we got our asses kicked. 6-2 or 7-3, it could have been far more. Anyway, Salas was on the other team. By some coincidence we both wore NJ PE shirts, which to people who know both of us, amazing since we loathe the school.

I played well, scored one, created a few opportunities. But it wasn't nearly good enough.

Gabriel wanted to form a field team though. An official one, with name, jerseys, committee etc. Seriously, I felt like saying "Dude, it's never going to work out", but his enthusiasm was infectious. I found myself being drawn in, and only the ominous approach of financial considerations brought me back to reality. Everything pretty much fell into place then.

Sometimes we got to face up to facts. And this particular one states "Jx cannot kick field soccer for nuts".

I don't like nuts, not even peanuts. But seriously, I don't have the physical body nor the skills required on the field to make it work. I can dance pass people on my day, but even at my highest peak, I couldn't make an impact on grass.

A street team sounds more feasible.


Argh, DotA calls again. I seriously have no life. The GP essay will have to wait LOL.

If I think hard enough, maybe a little longer, I'll probably justify any reason to feel angst-y. As it turns out, it's a great Monday. Solely based on the fact that I'm NOT IN CAMP.


NOT IN CAMP.


Magical words.


Anyway, the weekend was quite pleasant. Perhaps Friday was too much of a nightmare; Army's idea of a games day should be renamed quite drastically. Games should be fun and entertaining. Unfortunately Battalion Games Day didn't turn out that way.

You would have thought that with all the safety issues flying about, the officers would have organise some milder activities. Something in the line of captain's ball. Instead, we had a free-for-all right in the middle of the soccer field, each trying to manhandle our officers out of a circle. To spice things up (the sir's words, not mine), the 30 men on each side could also bundle each other out. "You guys, please don't elbow and jab, okay?" CO is a nice guy, but those words seemed to belittle him some how. You can't just throw 60 men, gangsters and racists included, into a 20 metre radius circle and say "Have fun".

I distinctly remember being dragged away by 3 guys, with my face in the grass. And thrown out rather carelessly.

Then there was this casualty rescue thing, where we had to carry a guy for nearly 1.2 km. My shoulder still has the bruise.


4 NTM has begun, which really is a bother. In the midst of the battalion dinner, SGT Wong came over and told us a turn out was in order. It wasn't the party that held us; the beer was stinky, the models were over-aged and had sagging figures. The food was crap. But we were all drained, and coming down in full battle order was not attractive at all. I shudder at the thought of falling in at the dirty old vehicle shed.

Even as I'm sitting here, my phone and pager's beside me. That's how troublesome it is.


Be back later. DotA's on.

I went to the ALW talk last night, and left halfway, sorry that I had wasted my time. Not really wasted, just felt disappointed in the ideals presented.

It seems that everyone just refuses to accept the fact that everyone has different potentials to fulfil, various contrasting positions to fill in life. It's just the idea that jumps out of nowhere, implants itself into some fool's head and tells him that he can do anything.

So what if you can remember numbers? Memorise words, hard long words at that, with relative ease?

It's shaping into a world, where everyone has to have maximum potential.

Potential, when unleashed, is terrifying, regardless of it's size. But it's not supposed to be forced out; neither should it be fed. Shouldn't experience and the people around you, be the ones who gently uncover it's beautiful face? Another case of nature vs technology. Let's just tamper with every human being around us, and form some robot race. Just aimless banter, this. Doesn't really do justice to the Ben Franklin quote, which I find really fascinating.


"I haven't failed. I've found ten thousand ways that don't work."


Ironically, it's ALW's slogan.


Confidence and self-belief. Not brainwashing. Probably that's going out of phase. Anything's possible, within reason.


Anyway, getting ready for a major tongue bashing from Staff Heng tomorrow. Apparently even defending my men warrants serious screaming.

On a more serious note, I'm getting really sick of camp. That slow dreading that comes from the bottom of my stomach. It's getting all too familiar. The Tekong Feeling. I can't wake up every morning; I refuse to. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to gain from the day's experience. I've never known the feeling of sianness more than now.


I'm still dreaming of you. Foul enchantress, thief of my senses.

So alluring.

So utterly unforgettable.

I've just been inspired by another Phil Ball article, hence I'm going to give my soccer journalism dream another shot, albeit a rather anonymous and unread one.

And yes, Staff Heng hasn't killed me yet.


Okay it's not much of an article. But I've just fallen in love with Real Madrid again. Their flair has just returned in full force, coupled with balance not seen since a certain water-carrier by the name of Claude Makelele went to Chelsea.


My Real team now:

1) Iker Casillas (gk)
2) Michel Salgado
3) Roberto Carlos
4) Sergio Ramos
6) Ivan Helguera
12) Pablo Garcia
23) David Beckham
5) Zinedine Zidane
10) Robinho
7) Raul
9) Ronaldo

In contrast to my old flame:

1) Iker Casillas (gk)
2) Michel Salgado
3) Roberto Carlos
4) Fernando Hierro
6) Ivan Helguera
24) Claude Makelele
10) Figo
19) Esteban Cambiasso
5) Zinedine Zidane
7) Raul
9) Fernando Morientes


Okay.. I still prefer the old team. And somehow, the latter still looks stronger. For a long list of reasons.

Ronaldo might be a technical plus over Morientes, but the Spaniard has the edge, for me at least. The aerial threat he provides seems meagre compared to Ronaldo's silky skills. But seriously, with Figo and Zidane, you don't really need a striker to hog the limelight. You need some strong guy up front to hold and knock down balls, finish crosses. Ronaldo might score more, but Raul was the main guy up front then, and for me I really loathe how people blast him for Ronaldo's selfishness. Raul's the ultimate silent assassin.


.. so much for a feeble attempt. I'm shagged.


Anyway, there's going to be lots of outfields coming up, and I might not even be home for the weekends. I didn't even get to send my dad to the airport this morning. What kind of life is this.

It's a few hours before book-in, and I already feel ultra-constrained. Must be the red boils on my hands. Looks like some kind of skin disease, appears gruesome and itches like crap.

I don't get it. Isn't it natural for an IC to bring his 2IC along? Show him the ropes? Teach him how to be a VC? Crap.. why bring me along to outfield. I hate sandflies. I'm not good with tools. I can't be bothered to remember fixing procedures. It's not going to be my career, or anything remotely close to any jobs I will possibly undertake. Shouldn't Staff drag Subash along?

Anyway, the outfield was nothing but a nightmare. Everything that could possibly go wrong went worse. SM1s found themselves in the ditch, threw tracks, roadwheels flew out.. There was this moment when the rain was so heavy visibility was restricted to a few metres at best. And I was on my knees, wallowing in the mud as I tried desperately to fix back a darn roadwheel hub. I can't believe Jo and 'Bash actually complained non-stop when I returned. I mean, how in the world could I possibly care, when the camou cream was still dripping down my face.

If I actually desired to seat atop the VC compartment and command the driver, I was dead wrong. At least Chu Wei was a great help.


So much for BTT 17 vs BTT 18. Adrian coked up big time. Blessing in disguise though. I seized the chance to appease my conscience, and found myself walking to NJ while the rest climbed into TCHS. Coincidentally the open house lol.

Appeasing conscience sounds rather ungrateful. After all, I did have a good time seeing sweet-looking young girls smile in welcome, as well as soccer players pestering me to join. Felt like saying "Dude, I was in there for some time before you even came." The match with the current Weiqi head was abit of an anti-climax though. This year's disappointment seems well-justified after all.


Miss those times when I really put in effort blogging.


Goal! is nice.

I have no inkling as to what's real. And what's not. Anymore.

The last I saw of the vehicle shed was an picture splattered with oil and diesel. An ominous sign, one that could spell the end of Staff Heng's blood vessels. I don't really want blood on my hands, but some things are inevitable.

Especially since we kind of screwed up the entire company in his absence. And Archer was pretty run-down in the first place, so we're pretty good to improve on that.

I don't know how we did it, but we succeeded. It's that bad.

I'm shaking in my pants here?


More updates on NS stuff; Never a pleasant issue to touch on, but it seems necessary somehow.

The whole workshop's moving over to Support COY. HQ CSM's finally decided to ditch us, and reinstating his own HQ staff seems to be his first move. Honestly, the reason for not using the arrangement in the first place still eludes us. I mean, the dude hates us for escaping his disciplinary measures, missing his stand-by-area-inspections. His tolerance seems uncalled for; we don't really care for it either. BWO-Sir's found bunks for us anyway.

It's funny how things are turning out. Leo and Xianghui are in S COY; so is Ka Yun. It's going to be fun living in the same building.

And by sheer coincidence, my old senior Zhang Rui's the sergeant there. So is Joel, a really ancient ghost from the past. And I really mean ancient. I knew him since I was six, but it seems like we never met before. It's so long ago, I can't really remember what we actually did as pals. Except some dino show which we enjoyed immensely, I guess as pre-primary dudes we couldn't do much more. In some sense, it's rather sad. 13 years is a long time.

And yea, we've got a TV in out bunk. It's totally wicked. Imagine not sharing that box with a whole bunch of smelly HQ personnel.

I got my new shoes stolen. Barely 2 months with the canvas on my feet, and some bastard's stolen into the night with them. I didn't report the theft, since it was gone long before I came back to bunk. Somehow, I feel I should have at least told the CSM, but that would just give rise to another wayang show of searching which would yield nothing but further wastage of time.


Being financially handicapped is so not fun. Money is not the most important thing in life. I would rate it way higher.