IT COMES BACK, said the Sleer, with satisfaction in its smoke-tendril voice. IT ALWAYS COMES BACK.
- The Graveyard Book, Neil Gaiman.

And so it is, as it always is. Maybe I should never have stopped. Part of the fear of blogging is just being afraid of being seen as self-important and self-absorbed, writing about how many times you brushed your teeth, how many times up and down, how many times to the side. But maybe it was just being silly.

Of course it's nice to make the excuse of Facebook and Twitter doing it all for you. First from Facebook giving a more complete picture of your life, and then Twitter basically being micro-blogging. But then again words are the craft, the clay in my thickening, callousing fingers, and if I don't enjoy writing, I may as well bind my fingers and hands together and form big meaty clubs. I think you can still eat with those so maybe it won't be too bad. (A lot harder to pick your nose, though.)

I'd almost forgotten how liberating it was to blog.

I suppose it's somehow odd that the more connected the world becomes, the more of our lives we share, the more afraid we are to live in it. The world's changed so much in the past 4 years. NS this, and Uni that, but the world's changed ever so much. Carving out your 15 megabytes of fame on the internet just gets more and more intimidating. But somehow, like the San Francisco Gold Rush, even though you've missed it by years and years, it's not too late to stake your claim.

Holy crap, an update.

It's been extremely busy onboard the ship. Amid investigations into letters to the chief and my pending downgrade I barely get a chance to take a breather these days, save the weekend which I happily spend with my kitten. A lot's been happening, but at the same time nothing at all. It's odd how you can get so caught up with small mundane things that ultimately don't amount to much, but at the end of the day you still feel like you haven't made any progress.

You know what I mean?

I can't wait to get out of the ship. It's not really a fun place to be at all. They're mostly all nice people over there, but I can't really get any satisfaction from the things I do over there. Over at the squadron, at least I have videos to do, and even somewhat important. Heh.

I am grateful that I have an NS life different from most of my peers, who're crawling in the mud (poor them), but I'm not suited for that life, I think. It's not for me. Just counting down the days now, is all. Can't wait to go on leave.

I just need a break.

Latest favourite song. I strongly encourage all of you to check out Sondre Lerche, I could listen to his songs forever.

Sondre Lerche - Counter Spark

You could be sad but never torn
You saw the light when it was on
You never turned or looked away
Your eyes were focused, mine were grey

Your sentences were concentrated
You made your points so understated
Where I would mumble, you would say
Your eyes were focused, mine were grey

I made up conversations with my symbolic language
Saying everybody wants to be like you
But I'd rather fall in love with you

You got the picture from the start
You saw right through me in the dark
You saw that I couldn't behave
with eyes so focused, yet so frail

I chose you from a million
You were the choice of billions
wishing they would try to be like you
But I'd rather fall in love with you

You questioned men and called them whores
But you would never burn your bra
You held your head up in the rain
Your eyes were focused, mine were grey

You had relationships that worked
and yet experience with jerks
So well adjusted, but with charm
Your eyes were focused and yet calm

I'm fairly realistic
But my thought are out of lip-sync
when I say that I'm not one of those
who pass you by and fall in love with you
who pass you by and fall in love with you
who pass you by and fall in love with you

I'll pass you by and fall in love with you

Today, in The New Paper - apparently Singaporeans are a self centered bunch whereas our American counterparts get White House passes and are valued political commentators. Can you imagine if WE tried? In SINGAPORE? Are you suicidal or something?

Also noticed how many hits girls who put up "sensual", "tastefully nude" and "camwhoring" (okay, that last one was mine) pictures of themselves get. I had no idea it was that easy. Now all I have to do is take pictures of myself naked, post them, and watch the hits come rolling in. To hell with witty, expository posts about life, the universe and everything, debates and insights into the human psyche, nubile young bodies are where it's at. Brace yourselves for the onslaught.

Apparently, Singaporean TV is only now going down the drain - talk about being slow to the party. With such quality (I use this word loosely. Very loosely) shows such as Phua Chu Kang, Living with Lydia and Police and Thief suffering a drop in the scriptwriting department, it seems that local TV really is doomed. If they're only now noticing what I've been saying for years, that really can't be good. If their standards haven't been met, what about mine and other people with half a frontal lobe?

Speaking of a brain, I just had an idea - we haven't had a good TV show, much less reality (Singapore Idol? Laff) for ages. And as it seems, local "blogebrities" are getting massive amounts of readership. Everyone loves reality shows. Also, everyone loves being a kaypoh. So... are you thinking what I'm thinking, B1? Why not have reality shows based on the lives of blog writers? The viewership for Xiaxue's reality show alone would probably make Phua Chu Kang look like a tricycle next to a Ferrari. Lord knows the lives they lead are much more exciting than ours. Imagine the camera following Xiaxue everywhere, shopping, clubbing, in the toil- okay, maybe not everywhere.

Seeing how she already has a column in the New Paper, a TV show is only the next logical step. I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to seeing how she'd run the country. You know it'll happen sooner or later. I mean, if she ran for Prime Minister or President, who wouldn't vote her? Everyone loves voting celebrities into positions of power. Look at Reagan, Schwarzenegger... Estrada... well, you know what I mean.

I haven't had a good idea like this in a long time. I love having good ideas. Even if they don't work out right. I remember when I tried to glue my sister to the floor. It was a perfectly sound plan for a 5 year old, involving:

1. Put copious amounts of glue on floor
2. Convince sister to step inside and remain there.

Of course, seeing how my sister was 2 the latter was a Herculean task. Eventually, as all 5 year olds are wont to do, I got bored and found something else to do. And the government was worried we wouldn't have creative thinkers.

So remember, when you see the trailer for Xiaxue's reality show on Channel 5, remember you heard it here first. I'm reserving the Thursday night slot right after the news.

When did everything change?

I jolted awake from my catnap as footsteps came thundering down the stairs. I looked at my watch and cursed, I'd dozed off and had about 10 minutes to get to my job half an hour away. I was going to get fired, again.

When the hell did I get here?

A couple of years ago all I wanted out of my life was to share what I had with anybody I could, to share my love of Music, of electricity. Somehow I ended up in my own personal Hell. It'd all started (or ended?) with Mary, whose cacophonous footsteps shattered my slumber. All she seemed to want this time was just to see if I was still asleep, which pretty much answered itself. Like a child who throws stones into a pond to see if it ripples.

Long ago she gave me the Ultimatum to find a job or sell my guitar, seeing as how I'd be paying rent to stay with her from now on, she wasn't taking No for an answer, and how it was for my own good. In a move not very carefully worded to seem like an afterthought she wanted payment that very week. I hadn't even worked anywhere before. Who'd hire me? I pawned my dreams and joined the working world.

She wasn't even worth the effort to despise anymore. I picked up the phone and prepared to call in sick. Or rather I would have if it hadn't died on me. Piece of junk I got cheaply from Fred, the drummer from my ex-band who kicked me out when their guitarist wasn't able to play anymore. He was the only one who remotely treated me like he actually knew me, after what happened.

I hear they still practice in the same garage, every Saturday, like we always did. I was saving for a new guitar, a better one, but at the rate I was going I'd get one of those cheap mass-produced ones in about 10 years. Having to pay rent to Mary made things worse. At that rate I might as well be dead, no music meant no soul. At this point, all I had was my Discman.

how long am I gonna can stand
with my head stuck under the sand
I start before I can stop
before I see things the right way up


Chris eased my thoughts, calmed my mind. Should I risk a few seconds on my cell? I did, but I might as well have not called - no one was there yet. There was still time. Work as usual was one disaster after another. I didn't have a choice, it paid the best out of all the places I'd been. Could maybe cut it down to 8 years. I set out to another day of drudgery and despair that others called work.

I don't know what it was that snapped me out of my brief, but always satisfying reverie. Whatever it was, I snapped out of it just in time to hear my cell-that-was-only-to-be-used-in-emergencies-and-nothing-else-under-pain-of-death-and-torture ring, it was Fred. He excitedly jabbered on about a gig that the old band had finally gotten through friends of friends, and that they were going to be playing at The Jungle, and would I like to play with them for old times sake?

My jaw dropped for all of two seconds before I realised I didn't have a guitar. My chance of a lifetime was finally here and I didn't have a fuckin' guitar. I thought he knew that. Asshole, I thought to myself, and let him know in not so civil terms. He returned the favour and hung up. I felt like kicking something. It hung over me for the rest of the day, which thankfully passed quickly. It's amazing how quickly things pass when your mind is focused elsewhere.

I was such an idiot. It wouldn't have been difficult to just borrow a guitar. I'd blown it. I sat down heavily on the couch. I must have seemed even more depressed than usual since even Mary sat down next to me, concerned for my well-being. There wasn't a point to keeping it from her, so I told her everything. It was at this point that it was her turn to look shattered.

I might not like her much, now, but she was still my mother. I asked her what was wrong.

As it turned out all that nagging and scolding was her way of striking back against my Music. She hated it, and tried to find a way to take it away from me. She eventually succeeded, but now that she saw the end result and what it did to me she could bear it no longer. I listened to her, and try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to despise her. Not this time. I hestitated, and embraced her as one might embrace an old friend unseen for years.

She started to sob. I went to bed, and slept more soundly than I had in ages. The next day was a Saturday. I woke up to see a note on my bedside table. It was from Mary. About how sorry she was for doing what she did to me, etc, etc, and how she hoped it would be enough... What was enough? I looked back at my table and saw a sum of money. Enough to buy my guitar back...

An hour later, I held her in my hands again. My beloved. I walked the familiar route to the garage, scarcely believing that everything would be as it was, that finally these fingers would fly, that electricity would flow once more. Now my only worry was that Fred would hate me for what I'd said to him. But as I turned the corner onto that familar driveway, hearing the comfortable strains of Music, I learned my worries were for nought. Fred and the rest greeted me like an old friend, and howled with delight at the sight of my instrument.

I took my place over by the grease stain on the floor, to the left of the tool cupboard, instinctively swinging to avoid the stack of hubcaps left lying in my path. The drummer knocked his sticks together, and we launched into the beginnings of our favourite song. I settled back in the hole, it was like I'd never left.

I was back.

***

The crowd at The Jungle threatened to suffocate. I honestly hadn't expected that many. They milled about, almost aimlessly, as the band tuned their instruments for the third time that evening. Couldn't blame them for wanting it to be perfect. Occasionally one of the people in the crowd gestured in our direction, from the look on their faces they were getting restless.

Finally we were ready. As the lights went out, so did the surrounding din. I shut my eyes, and prayed to all the rock gods I knew... this was it, this was what I'd always lived for. What I'd always been waiting for. My dream.

The bassist's fingers danced across his strings, as the lights flared. The drummer's arms whirled and beat out their tune. The crowd cheered appreciatively, and then went insane as I began my piece. My hands moved on their own, and I marveled at how the rest of the band were lost in their trance, dedicated devotees of the rock deities.

This was it. The culmination of all I'd gone through in my life, it'd all led up to this point. All I wanted. All I needed.

Pure magic.

Yeah, it was a pretty good day today. Spent the first part of the day relaxing and preparing myself for what was to come. I wasn't too sure about it since well, my driving instructors have a knack for making me feel like a quadriplegic behind the wheel, but I aced it! Only 6 demerit points too, which makes me a happy camper.

Went out to celebrate with me kitten and had ourselves a good old feast at Moonfish at Millenia Walk. Pretty good Italian food there, but it's a bit pricey. Worth it if you have some extra cash. Had dessert at Bakerzin, or Baker's Inn, or Bacardi or whatever they want to call themselves. Very addictive as usual.

I don't know, this has been a pretty good week for me. I pretty much needed this long break to spend with loved ones and friends, and mostly just to feel like myself again. Been trying to write again, inspiration will come when it will. You can see part of my latest story down below, it'll come together as soon as I can piece together what I want to happen next, and hopefully it won't be the trainwreck that was my supposed "noirish detective" story.

There's a lot I have to be thankful for. If I haven't taken the time to thank you for whatever you've done, know that you folks are always appreciated.

Muffled words and banging on the door. I looked up just in time to see Mary barge in, her lips moving. I slipped the headphones off, and it was just like turning the mute button off in the middle of a song. It went on at full force, and if you weren't ready for it... She made the usual noise about jobs going nowhere, and my uselessness as a human being. I replied when I had to, nodded at opportune moments, and Mary finally left.

I never called her Mum.

Looking over at the clock, I decided it was time for bed. As I stripped off my clothes to go shower I glanced in the mirror. I stared through myself, barely registering how long it'd been since I shaved, my unkempt features, the untidy mop I kept on my head. Some people called this scruffy. I just called it me. I climbed into bed and slipped off into limbo, dreaming of screaming people and clashing cymbals.

It was the weekend, so I was meeting the guys for the usual jam. Our bassist had to work today, so we'd just have to do without him. It didn't matter, the only thing that did was the Music. I didn't know how to describe it to others. Not that I wanted to. The Music was sacred to me, it was my religion. As long as I held onto it - it would never let me down. I think - I think that's what others call faith. I didn't know about that stuff. I just played. My sole enjoyment in life was just to hear, to create, to experience - the Music; it was just the melding of the sounds, nothing was more magical to me that that.

My fingers danced over the strings as the drummer's sticks rapped their tune. Our other guitarist wasn't that good yet but he'd been getting better. I could see it in him too, Music was his life too. I admired that. But I wanted nothing more than to share my Music with others as well. I wanted most to be on that stage, any stage, if only to share what I had. For others to love Music as well. I wanted to perform.

I dreamt of flashing lights and thundering bass. I yearned for blinding lights and a deafening roar. I longed for electricity in my veins and echoes in my soul. It was just unfortunate that everything else got in the way. We stopped practice for the day, and we split up for the day.

What have you done?

I don't know if you remember what happened with Shen and Ling but this is exactly what happened that long ago. Only... not. But I can't say anything. Whatever that needed to be said probably has been said long ago by numerous people, who're probably not at all in the calmest state of mind. I was mad, but now I'm just ashamed and disappointed.

In the end, all it really boils down to is this:

What's it all about, really?

What are you doing?

Can you see what happens to the people around you?

Be a man. Do the right thing.

Sorry for the late update folks. It's been a crazy week.

The birthday party was fantastic, much love to you folks who showed up. To those who didn't, I know you had good reasons. Whether the army called, or sick, or something, at least you didn't let me down, letting me know. To those who didn't... forget it. Just remember it's nice to tell people whether you can go or not, with good reason.

It was great seeing everyone there again, many of them I hadn't seen for months - hanging out with them and chilling was seriously just like old times again. It's nice to see many people haven't changed too much.

Very many thanks go to my family who booked the place, and helped organise, my friends and family for coming and making the party feel like a party, and finally, my kitten for organising most of what went on. You insisted on decorating, and having games, to make my 21st birthday special. It's because of you that so many people had a great time. Where would I be without someone like you?

One in a thousand

Markos woke suddenly, his fleeting rest period falling prey to his insomnia. He calculated that on and off, he'd gotten about 2 hours of sleep when he should have gotten 6 already. It'd been like that for days, and for all the pharmacy visits and hypnotherapists he'd visited, nothing seemed to solve the problem.

Markos sat up, and immediately wished he hadn't. With a resounding CLANG, he slumped back to his prior, horizontal position. If he hadn't been able to get much sleep, he definitely wouldn't be able to get any now. "It's been a week and I always forget about that pipe", he muttered to himself. Groaning, sluggish, he dragged himself out of bed and went outside. He did his best thinking outside.

The door creaked as it came to a close, but stuck just before it closed completely. The house was in a mess, thanks in no part to the previous occupants who'd left in a hurry. Their belongings were scattered everywhere, and Mark felt like he was an archeologist, going through the bits and pieces of someone's life. Or a scavenger, Mark thought to himself. He propped himself up against the wall, and looked up at the slowly dawning sky. Beautiful.

He couldn't remember much of his life before this. Hell, for a sky like this, who cared? He lived for these moments. Markos closed his eyes, basking in the morning cool. He delighted in the fact that every time he opened his eyes, things were different, and new. Always a new beginning.

The suns rose, and the sky slowly streaked with brilliant maroon. He took his cue to escape the inevitable scorching heat that this brought, and retreated back into the house, to watch the day burst into life and death again. As the suns got higher in the sky, the previous evening's nightgrass withered and decayed, sinking into the ground. A boulder rolled under a tree for cover. A family of small, furred, scurrying rodents took flight, presumably to find sanctuary in his attic. There was always so much to see.

Something shook. Taking a glance outside, Markos realised with a start the day's lightstorms were beginning. He braced himself, hearing a nearby tree explode into flame. As it melted into the landscape, he heard a lightbolt or two strike his house, but they bounced harmlessly away. After several moments of this, he decided to take a look outside to observe the damage.

The viridian sky's lonely red sun shone down on the landscape, the only sign of life a slowly approaching skyship that signaled that he should get ready for work. Marcios sighed heavily and got dressed. His house shook again. Didn't the lightstorm just end? He glanced outside again, and his jaw fell. Pieces of the skyship fell to the sky aflame, and crashed into the ice. The flames froze and sank into the icy waters, along with the rest of the ship it came from. That was the funny thing about this world, he thought to himself. Never left a mess. Like there was a set default, or something that it had to adhere to...

He looked up, on instinct. What Marcios saw made his blood run cold, and that wasn't just a result of the bitter arctic conditions. The clouds had rearranged themselves... were those clouds? Or were they something else? The message was still the same, though.

YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE.

The sky shattered suddenly, and he took cover as a shard of what used to be the horizon smashed through the window and embedded itself into the floor. It dissipated, leaving no trace of its presence save a shattered window, and a very rattled Marcios. He needed to disappear.

Clearly, there was no time to pack. He thanked his lucky stars that he travelled light, and, stepping onto the sands, he prepared to leave. One foot before the other. Slowly at first, then quicker. He crested a sand dune, as the falling shards of the sky nicked his skin, his jacket getting torn to shreds.

In front of him, the sands shifted.

WHERE WOULD YOU GO

Makkhose woke up suddenly, remembering to sit up slowly this time to avoid the pipe. Outside, the suns were setting, and the nightgrass emerged from its hiding place in the soil. He revelled in the blissful cool of the evening, closing his eyes to drink deep of everything.

*****

Beep.

Beep.

An eyelid was opened, and Dr. Keith shone his penlight, without reaction from the eye within. He straightened up again, and turned to Marcus' wife.

"No change, as far as I can tell, ma'am, and no sign of when he'll get better. That is, if he does. I'll let you know, of course, if there are changes to his... condition." he drawled, already in his mind the thought of getting off work, and meeting his mistress at the Charlton.

Beep.

Sandra glanced at Marcus' comatose body on the bed. He'd been wired nearly top to bottom, and she could barely see his face anymore over the VR apparatus they'd strapped on him. She remembered how the specialists said that without any mental stimulation, his brain would eventually wither away, leaving him brain dead. She turned to the doctor and smiled sadly.

"That... that would be good, doctor. I just hope that day comes at all."

"Mmm-hmm."

"You know, it's ironic, somehow... He always lived in his own little world. Sometimes I think he loved those worlds more than me. Strange... isn't it?"

"Yes ma'am, like you've told me before. He'll be perfectly fine. Now you go on home to your kids, alright? Nearly dinnertime."

Beep.

"Ye... Yes, of course. I should be going. Thank you, doctor."

"Mmm."

Sandra turned to leave, and took another look at Marcus lying there peacefully. Sometimes she envied him, wondering what new world he was in now. She stepped out of the ward, and shut the door.

Outside, the sun shone warmly, a blazing sphere suspended in the bright blue sky. Its rays did little to lift her mood, however. As she walked to her car, she watched a pair of robins up in a tree, building their nest, flitting and twittering excitedly. She watched them, carefree, never knowing what it was to be surrounded by people, yet so alone.

She wondered what it was like to be free.

Ever had those moments of abject clarity? What's really important in this life? Material goods don't last and money, well, why be the richest stiff in the graveyard? Sometimes I wonder whether or not I'm at all ready for the next phase of life. Still so bloody naive. Don't know a damn thing, except how to be a drain on my loved ones. The past few weeks have been battering on my self esteem, till the point it seems like pre-poly days.

What's it all about? I'm sorry I've let so many people down recently. I've been selfish lately to my poor kitten. Illusions of grandeur? Sometimes I wonder. She's slogging away at a shitty job and nothing I have done can compare to what she's done and been through. Do I deserve anything I have at all? What have I done, really?

I still love her to bits though. And I'm resolving to do whatever I can to show her that I do.

Weary but still standing.

Navy's been wearing thin on me recently. Moved out of Sembawang Camp over to Changi Naval Training Base. It's a lot different, nice sea view, but maybe we'd enjoy it more if we didn't have to shift all the furniture in. In the meantime I get to stay out, at least until the cabins are 100% (or maybe just 80%, because the SAF doesn't really care) ready.

Need to resume my driving, before my enrolment at SSDC runs out and I waste everything. It'd really be nice to drive once in a while, so I hope my parents don't use the car so often. Heh. Also need to change my PS2 mod chip. So many games I could play but can't right now. Maybe when I'm on vocation and I get to come home more regularly. Also need: MP3 player. Too much music wasted just sitting on my computer. =p I always find it too quiet going anywhere, or when I'm alone, music (especially my kind of music) zones me into that special place, something like that hard to reach area behind your back. I've been late for many things just because I had to finish listening to a particular song that happened to be playing. Ergo, I'm a freak. But I bet you knew that already.

Thoughts pervade my mind about the future now. Yes, I offer nothing new and original in my blog posts, deal with it. No matter how boring or dry a topic might be, some things you just can't run away from. I just pray that I'll get a good enough job to sustain a family and live comfortably. I don't need fancy gadgets like the latest plasma screen TV or for everything to be so wireless that my house becomes a sterile zone, as long as it functions and fulfills its purpose I'm content.

I haven't had the time to write (in my head, I'm even lazy enough not to type or write things down, which pretty much contributes to the sparseness of this blog). Recently went to the Pasir Ris beach, and phwoar. My mind doth runneth over. It's such a perfect setting and a place to review, rewind and reflect. Maybe when things tone down I'll write on my blog some more. There's no criticism like criticism from total strangers who have no emotional attachment to you. Well, it'd work in theory, since no one besides my circle of friends actually goes to this blog. Har.

I LOVE NAVY (add sarcasm where appropriate)

Sondre Lerche - You Know So Well

Use every chance you've been given
she replied after several days
It's no good to be perfect
you know so well things are easy to tell
There is one thing I know
it goes like this
It's that when I lose my sleep it's you I miss

I have told you this before
and my transparent mind
won't cover see-through hearts
I'll be straight with you now
Now I'm not what you want
just like the rest
and you feel like you're subject to a test
But if there's one thing I know it's this
When I lose my sleep it's you I miss

You sleep all night
you know you lie awake
Tell me, yeah
And time is running out
and you know so well
it may never be

Use every chance you've been given
she is told, but it doesn't make her smile
She has no need to be perfect
She knows too well
things are easy to tell
I have said what I thought you should know
but you never seem to recognize my face

The Massacre Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the land
Everyone was sleeping, save woman and man.
They were all panicking and running about
Hunting for bargains, identified with a shout.
For Timmy's Power Ranger, Julie's Barbie doll
Kenny's limited edition adidas ball.
But why, one doth cry, why suffer now?
Why herd into shopping malls as if we were cows?
Why not start earlier, like sensible folk?
Avoid the crowds, split up like an egg and its yolk?
Sure as hell beats me, I have to reply
Everytime I squeeze through crowds with a sigh.
Same time next year, I vow in my mind.
Vowing to return to these crowds their 'favours' in kind.

Current wallpaper. Heh.

It's Christmas, but it probably only really feels like Christmas if you're a kid. Between endless work/endless bookins at camp, haven't even had much time to let the atmosphere soak in. It always just sneaks up on you and beans you in the knee with a lead pipe, something like Tonya Harding. It's really not fair, that we've waited so long for it to come, and then it's gone again.

You know, like a really good sneeze.

I suppose I need the obligatory catching up post. I'm in the Navy, and no, I don't eat fish everyday, drink salt water, or swim all that often. I've got to stay in for my courses, but people I talk to say it's a guaranteed 8-5er. Can't help but look forward to that! The camp I'm staying in is a real dump, too. Actually, since my course only really starts on the 28th, we're all supposed to be doing PT until that date rolls around. By right.

By left, I'm... uh... conveniently excused, on account of my helping out the Logistics Branch with fatigue work, or as it's more commonly called, Sai Gang. Mostly involves me taking a sledgehammer to anything wooden and smashing it to pieces. Damn but that's one hell of a job. So wonderfully cathartic, too!

Still have Xmas shopping to do. Haven't gotten that $10 exchange present yet for Alicia's partaaaaayy. (I can type in good English whenever I want to. Really.) That and another component of the SuperStar Kitten's present. I've got no choice but to go down tomorrow and do it, then. Sigh. I think the last time anyone charged so selflessly into the fray, into the swirling, innumerable hordes, countries fell and empires rose. What chance have I got?

Xmas list for 2004

1. Comics!
2. Indiana Jones trilogy DVDs
3. Star Wars trilogy DVDs
4. Marvel Legends action figures
5. Early ORD! Gahaha.
6. Computer parts. Specifically, more RAM and a new HD.
7. New mod chip for my PS2
8. An idea of what Maddy wants for Xmas!

So POP has come and gone. It's strange how something I'd been looking forward to for so long came and went with little fuss, it just... happened. And now the whole event, the 24k route march, the parade, the parade rehearsals.. I thought when the day came, I'd be too elated to contain myself. But when all the rehearsals have you practicing being overjoyed, that probably takes some of the shine off it.

The next thing I'm looking forward to is the KL trip I have coming in a few days. Hopefully this one is even better than the one we had several months ago, being that we know KL a lot better than we did then. It's a chance to get away from everything, just to relax and forget about reality for a while. Haven't had a chance to do that for some time. Actually, I haven't had the chance to vegetate and relax at home for a long, long time without having some form of obligation to fulfill to friends, family and girlfriend. It's... refreshing. As much as I like to laze around home though, I know it can't last. Eventually I'll have to grow up sometime, get a job, save enough money for overseas study... get married... Does this mean I should slowly wean myself off my habits? Or enjoy it to the fullest while I can?

Ugh.

At home now, earlier than scheduled because I'm on Attend C. Can't complain much since I get a nice, longer weekend I suppose. It would've been so much better if my head didn't feel like a jackhammer though. I've got my Situational test coming up soon, but I'm so vehemently against the idea of going to Command School that I'll probably not do very well for it. (*wink*)

I could go to Command School if I wanted though, but... that's just it. I don't want to. I just want a nice posting where I can book out everyday, and see my kitten anytime I want to, and that has absolutely nothing to do with combat. I know, we can't always get what we want. But wanting... if you don't have any desires, if you don't actively strive for that something better in life, well, you might as well die now. I never saw a point in the defeatist POV, that "oh, I'll never get something like that."

Maybe it's because I've mostly gotten what I strived for. Getting a place in SJI, in CMM, for example. Maybe I'm used to getting what I want. Whether that's a good thing or a bad thing I can't say for sure.

I do know, however, that I'll soon be out of the hellhole known as Pulau Tekong. And the rest of my life ahead.

An ode to the day before NS

Goodbye computer, goodbye chair
Goodbye wavy locks of hair
Where am I going? What do I do?
How do I survive without getting screwed?

Regardless of time, regardless of date
There'll be only one thing that I know for sure that I'd hate
That's not being beside you, seeing you smile
While I am jogging for miles and miles.

I'll be back soon, I pray and I hope.
That I'll be safe while I'm climbing ropes.
Not just ropes, not just running
Or wearing helmets while machine-gunning.

I'll miss you guys badly, while I'm away
But one more than others I still need to say
You all know who, her name rhymes with "bitten"
Need I mention that it's my kitten?

Well, pretty much. I'll miss all of you people a lot. The comforts of home, the warm showers, air conditioning, and the using of hair styling products are but secondary to you guys. I'll see you people soon.

I wrote this yesterday.

It's not easy at all to get something like this out. You think you have the words to put down, but everytime you get down to it they slip out of your grasp.

Tomorrow me and my family are going to visit our cat one last time before we put him down. He lived a good long life at 14, though I'd always hoped he'd die of old age. We found him in 1990, a stray cat that was just slower than the rest of his kin. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the nicest thing to do but heck, it was my parents who caught him, not me.

Me and my siblings are 4-8, and in all our infinite and vast imaginations, we named him Kitty. It wasn't the most creative name, but it was the first time we actually had a cat. When he first came to join our family, he was a snarling spitfire of a cat, who spent most of the time skulking outside the apartment rather than inside. He warmed up to us soon after though, but he wouldn't hesitate to retaliate if you did him wrong.

We moved soon after to a house in a more suburban area, with a nice garden my mother could plant her flowers in. Kitty fancied himself as the guardian of our house, and used to sit on the porch every night and pick fights with the other cats in the neighbourhood. We often came downstairs in the morning to find a few wounds on him, and we'd try to shut him in the house for the night, but he always made it outside. He broke his leg in a car accident once, but being a tough bastard he made it through.

As he got older, we got another cat, Sandy, who appeared up in the rafters one day and didn't know how to come down. This was in 1998 or 1999 or so. She didn't seem to mind staying with us, but Kitty took every opportunity to be as mean as he could to her, and hissed often. He was the man of the house, and he knew it.

Even though he was tough, he was affectionate to those who loved him. Once, my dad screamed the hell out of me for getting bad grades, and Kitty curled up beside me while I slept. When my dad tried to pet him later that day, he hissed and snarled at him. I didn't know a thing though, until my parents told me.

It was recently that Kitty showed signs of getting old. He'd gotten a bad skin/fur condition and ran away to hide and die in solitude that cats seem to do. We found him, and tried to carry him home but kept struggling. After a visit to the vet, he was back to normal a few days later. He started getting slower, and less agile than before. He'd have difficulty scaling the sofa, or any height, and would climb onto it more than jump. He used to climb onto me while I was playing PS2 lying down, and settle on my stomach or my chest while I played. It didn't matter if I stroked him, or not, he purred loudly just being around.

A few days ago, he disappeared again overnight. I went out to look for him the next day, and found him in the afternoon, huddled under a drain. It took a while, but we eventually got him out, but not without some loud, plaintive, almost aggressive meowing, as if we'd robbed him of the death in solitude that he wanted. We took him back to the house and cleaned him again, because he stank. Badly. We noticed he'd lost a lot of weight, and we could feel his spine and other bones jutting out. Which we found really, really odd. Still, he ate a little and slept a lot over the next couple of days. He also had excessive saliva production, which I thought was down to him getting old.

We took him to the vet yesterday, to see if there was anything wrong with him. Before we left in the car though, he managed to piss all over my mother who was cradling him in her arms. After putting him in a cage, we set off again. My dad remarked, "Well, at least his kidneys are working."

As the vet examined our cat, she remarked with dismay that he was quite dehydrated, and that she could feel something in his belly, and that he'd have to be warded to be diagnosed, with an X-ray, and blood tests, and all that stuff. We were told it might be kidney failure, and if it was so, there was nothing much that they could do. They promised to call with the results later that night, and they did.

It was indeed kidney failure. Not only that, but he'd somehow gotten a hernia too. The decision was made, and it was thought that it was better to put him down than let him suffer. I asked if we were going to cremate him, so that we'd have something of him to remember him by, but my parents wanted to bury him as he'd always loved the outdoors. It was fitting, and maybe that is what he'd always have wanted, to stand watch over the house as he'd done for well over a decade.

24/7/2004

I just came back from the vet, and it was tough to see Kitty on a drip, with a cone around his neck. Me and my family stayed to say our goodbyes, and we stroked him, petted him and tried to comfort him in the minutes leading up to when we had to put him to sleep. He still purred, though he didn't meow in the whole time we were there, like he understood what was going to happen.

In the end only my mother and I stuck around for the act. The vet took a syringe of green liquid, and laid a cloth on the table. We were told beforehand that when they go, they might literally let go of everything in their bladder, or regurgitate whatever they had in their stomachs. Thankfully nothing like that happened, and he died very peacefully. Crying, tears rolling down my face, I stroked his head as his eyes slowly half-closed, and then he was no more.

We buried him in the front garden, with a fish and a bag of cat food that he'd never go hungry, as we said our goodbyes.

R.I.P, Kitty. You were loved. I'll miss you so much. Thanks for the companionship. I'll never have a cat like you again.