beat of my soul

Tomorrows the surgery, somehow i've been breaking out in cold sweat with nausea and giddyness and constant hiccuping for the past 30 hours or so. Unfortunately i'm not one who gets rid of hiccups easily and they are exceptionally tiring and painful for me and after 25hours my neck now hurts like hell and the rest of my body is weary and sore. Lets hope it disappears, or tomorrow will be one heck of a troublesome day. Anyhow stuff to look forward to includes having real long hair after the MC period is over, haha.

Given the nature of my operation i will probably not be blogging for the next week or two, at all so perhaps this will be an extra long post.

Watching "The Arena" now, with its rather pointless antics its sometimes interesting to watch kids argue with each other. Currently United World College appears to be thrashing Hwa Chong Institution and if they win it will be an utter thrashing of Singapores top ranking secondary schools, following Raffles Institution's loss the last episode. What i am realising from this episode is that HCI seems to be consisting of a team of science students given the format of their arguments and their body language exudes insecurity and lack of confidence. Overall they don't seem to believe too greatly in their points and rely largely on statistics rather than their own views, opinions and conclusion. While the points UWC made aren't really that impressive, they at least have stability and show confidence in their points and speaking. Somehow i feel some sadness that our tops schools are being handed their asses on a local program produced locally, judged locally and broadcasted locally. Of course i may be indignantly biased cause my dad was practically screaming "bitch" at eunice olsen the whole time whenever she votes UWC.

But i personally feel it is not possible to be general about topics like "Are youth today soft?" since every generation has a group of weaklings and also a group of "stronglings". (i quote yy =.=) After all out of 14 billion people there has to be at least a couple hundred that are comparable intellectually, charismatically and/or resilience-wise to any of the greatest and most celebrated minds of human history. What i feel is happening is how a generation that passes through hardships looks upon their offspring reaping the benefits of peace that they had striven for and shake their heads saying: "In our time we were lugging tonnes of rice" and other such stories of hardships in their times. This may be spoken from the Singaporean context where our parents and grandparents lived in the age of coolies and production lines and for some, even a world war but every other country would have its own story that can be compared to us. The great depression, the asian financial crisis, these all are events that affected millions in a generation past to us and it is through these trials that we now live in a relatively stable world. (lets ignore growing nuclear powers) I've got a solution for those who complain, George Bush Jr seems to be getting on that train, Kim Jong il seems to be prepping for it as are other growing powers Iran China India.

War. Complain that the younger generation is soft but look again, what great trouble have we faced that can compare to world wars? There are no international events (thankfully) for us to prove ourselves against that are comparable to one that killed millions and traumatised millions more. In a way this is the "price" of peace, that the next generation gets to live in comfort, facing minimal troubles and worries. After all wasn't what they were fighting for in their wars for freedom, wars for peace? For their children to live in a dream-world without conflict wasn't it? Well this is the result, a "generation of softies".

Need to listen to hardcore music now, some power metal would be terrific during my debilitation in the next two weeks or so, since my surgery is on tje eye, making me effectively half-blind for the whole period of time.

I came up a theory of why people have preferences for music. Ever tapped your feet while just sitting down in a long train or bus ride? As if you were tapping them to a beat that only you can hear, that only you can feel. I think that everyone has their own different beat in them, like how the movie Happy Feet portrays everyone has their own "Heart Song". The music preferences that we have are based on how melodiously the songs themselves fit onto our own personal beats. Double pedal drumming seems to be mine. =/

Anyhow after the results show of The Arena, i somehow feel that HCI will not be participating in the show again. After all, after the first speaker there hardly got any credible points.

As my mom said, "The other team also paiseh for them"

statistics are just numbers

fear

Do you wake up wondering if you'll only see black, or white, when you do? For most cataracts worsens vision gradually, wherein change is usually noticed by the months, the past week or so though, the change has been daily. Everyday clearness in my right eye disappears and today as i woke up i realised that no matter what i looked at, there is no spot where i do not get fuzzy vision. I just hope its normal, i hope my eye holds out till wednesday so i don't have to experience blindness again.

Physics SPAs starting in about an hours time and here i am sitting around typing. Maybe its cause i've worked hard long before and everything seems to be driven deep into my memory. Hopefully this freshness of memory stays through the exam, and maintains itself for tomorrows chemistry SPA as well.

Anyhow, good luck to all the other Victorians taking SPA this week!

Now on to finding my pencil box...

the things people do

Well then my sister wants to buy shoes so my mom brought her to causeway point and since my kitchens renovating (takes so long...) i had to tag along for lunch at Seoul Garden or end up paying for my own meal.

However it appears the effects of my rapidly degenerating eye are finally manifesting in headaches, giddiness, nausea and a certain weakness that makes me feel like i'm going to fall anytime. I sure hope i'm fit for the GA cause i really don't want to be awake while people cut my eye up.

So we ate at the crowded food court. Imagine you're sitting with your boyfriend/girlfriend and you're both chatting lovingly, holding each others hands before going to buy food and some lady with 2 kids in tow comes over and asks "Is there anyone sitting here?" whilst tapping on the opposite side of the round table. As normal, courteous people they had to say no and proceed to be visibly stunned and shy as my mother plopped herself onto the chair and motioned for us to sit. Her insensitivity to the feelings of others appalls me, though she probably has some wierd reason that makes sense in her own fashion of morals.

Its these things people do when they don't think things through, or when they are fuelled by some idea that unfortunately does not seem proper to most others that makes interactions uncomfortable and awkward at times. Of course, we all experience such encounters regularly and it is more common to find people disagreeing rather than agreeing. After all if this weren't the case we'd really. naturally have "World Peace" and we wouldn't need Miss Universe finalists to constantly remind us of its importance.

If we think about it, though, its hard to imagine life without a conflict of ideas or perspectives. It would be like the "Utopias" that many movies show where everybody is content and satisfied but never really happy. Perhaps our world has a certain level of happiness that works like energy, it can't be created. When we are happy, in some way or another it will link back to the unhappiness of another, in whatever seemingly unrelated link at a different time even. Lets say all the labourers in the world who slog for 16 hours a day suddenly gain increased pay that matches their efforts, or work less hours and thus become happier. We, the consumers of the goods that they play a part in making, will become less happy when we see the price of the goods rising, or the stocks becoming limited. Some may feel some form of altruistic happiness at the relief of suffering but they are usually the minority and even then, when they're relatives or friends become slightly more unhappy they become more irritable and their relationship suffers.

True some people may say this is a standalone example, or that this is merely one way of seeing it but then let me give other examples. When you win a competition you are happy, but the losers? They certainly won't show it or even be consciously angry but at some level they are disappointed, and at whatever level of mental state, disappointment leads to sadness. Or what about when we feel happy that our stocks (think wall street) have improved, the money has to come from somewhere, and thats from other's pockets. We are happy at our grades because we worked hard and for any competitive reason but there are those who will look upon your better grades and still feel inferior and sad. It is not a conscious thing, but in some way or another, happiness has to be taken from someone, somewhere.

Of course the idea of happines working like energy is ridiculous since it is a state of mind. But it is the cause of our society that it works similarly, that instead of conversion of energy the world's happiness works like the flow of a river. An increase somewhere is due to a decrease somewhere.

Many would disagree of course. And they're mostly the happy altruists. The happy samaritans. The happy volunteers. The happy rich people. The happy donators. The happy people. Knowing happiness comes from sadness certainly takes away ones happiness to some extent, and those made sad, they get some happiness that someones begun to understand.

but be happy for you cant help it

culture of cages

Would've wrote this yesterday after kan asked me "so whats your idea of what culture is?" and after watching the movie "cages". But i returned home a little late and sleeping after putting my spiffy expensive pressure-reducing "foreign-body sensation" causing eyedrops is important.

Not that it matters much now that i have to have my lense changed. And no, its not my spectacle lenses im talking about.

Its the lenses in my eye, the one with cataracts, the one with the 800+++ power. The cataracts has worsened to the point that its "ripened" (as i quote e doc) and my lens is now breaking down into pieces. He even showed me the photo of my eye, which shows me a very un-circular lens with a gap in my iris and a large clump of white stuff (my lens stuff) at the bottom. Overall it wasn't a very pretty sight, especially when you know its your eye you're looking at.

Anyway, this surgery will take place on the morning of wednesday, 28th March, at the Singapore National Eye Centre where in a short 15-20minutes the lens in my eye will be removed via a 2 point something millimetre incision at the corner of my cornea and replaced with an artificial lens with a power of 650 (cause i cant correct my left eye's power till im 21 and there needs to be balance)
After which, if dr yeo discovers that my torn iris has caused matter to fall into the back of the eye, he will proceed to remove it in a slightly more complicated surgery that will extend the process by an hour. I will be under general anaesthesia for the whole process due to this reason. The recovery will involve 1-2 weeks of home rest and a month after wherein my eye will be fragile and reddish. Total recovery time is 6months. (i think)

So i'm gonna miss all the fun stuff coming up, just like how i missed house comm and sc speeches and qna and how i missed signing up for sports day and voting for sc i will now miss arts day, sports day itself, presentation of faces of the year finalists and maybe even musicfest. How sad.

Now to yesterday where me, hoon, josh and david had a wonderful adventure rushing frantically (and running) to the cinema only to end up listening to the director's speech and watching GV's usual 20minute advertisments.

The movie attempts to preach some form of philosophy and ideas by packaging it nicely as a movie "close to heart". However despite its valiant attempts the plot fails with its jerkiness and lack of flow whilst the audio itself sounds dubbed at times and sometimes that spoils the flow, or mood of scenes. The part about tan the bird shop uncle being a minister once may be believable in Singapore due to our small size but would flop internationally where such an idea seems fantastical.

There is a part where ali (Tan Keng Hwa or however you spell it) says: "..we fear to love too much, to love to little" and some other lines that were forgettable/mumbled. I believe this is true mostly for Asian cultures such as Singapore.

We live our lives fearing many things, and in Singapore it is shown through our casual use of Kiasu (scared lose) and Kiasee (scared die). We fear being left behind, having lost out, having a bad reputation which, in a small place like here, means ending up with a bad future. As the chinese say, mian zi (face) is important and in singapore it is one of our most treasured possesions that we would do anything to protect.

We are trapped by our fears, many of us know that fear binds us, it makes our feet turn to stone and our hearts to water to flow away. In our culture of repressed ideas and a strong emphasis on strict obedience children grow up learning to fear their parents, failure, the loss of face and that restrains them. It makes them, the entire society, afraid to try, afraid to stand out, afraid to take the extra step that may bring a leap to mankind for fear they may be left behind as they took that step.

She said we fear to love too much, i prefer to think of it as a fear of reliance on others, that others are not predictable and may not be trusted and so we fear the repercussions of placing faith and trust in them. We fear losing the investment of our emotions for, living a risk-free life all along, we are not prepared for the pain and shock of emotional failure. She said we fear to love too little and in a singaporean context it tends to mean that we fear the talk that may come about as we fail to fit into the template of a "model citizen", loving and caring. We care about our face and our social standing and our popularity and image and reputation and so we cannot afford to seem to be uncaring, to love too little. Our Asian bonds make us puppet puppeteers of the puppet puppeteers around us as we jostle for control of the greatest number of strings, to gain the respect of more and the love of many. Though we can sometimes spend too much effort and time working to fit in, to gain advantage, to not lose out, that we end up entangled and restrained by the strings we've gained as we lose control of our emotions and as we realise that different people require different amounts of loving and we can never satisfy all.

We, as Singaporeans, have been told we cannot lose, that we have been born and are borne on the backs and bodies of our forefathers over rivers of blood and so we have a culture, a namesake and a tradition of success and perserverence to uphold. We are stressed out right from the first time we took the pledge, the first time we heard a minister speak. We live entrapped by the past of others and the future we want, unwilling to break free.

so dare to dare

wee: ...we cannot afford to let you get hit again.
me: but not necessarily is me get hit what
wee: Yes but you see arh, if get hit in the eye again it will be very bad..is like, if you have a stab wound and someone kicks you, the blood will come out even more...you understand?
me: no.... (i actually dont see a link, i dont think he got me =/)

Afterwords as i was about to take a few hits (batting) he appeared to sit on grandstand, and i thus had to jump behind the backstopto hide, damnit. Theres always tomorrow.

Anyhow dinner with e girls on monday was rather interesting, its amusing how girls from single sex schools are similar to guys from single sex schools when they're around their fellow schoolmates (me not included, of course)

hmm.

unbelievable

This is absurd, after all this time i still can't bear to read some of their blogs. Just a mention of it makes my heart beat faster, a picture makes me frown and reminisce of the good ol' times. As Jastine tagged in hy's blog, "**** la, i wanna play =(". Which effectively sums up alot of my emotions as i was bloghopping just a few minutes before. What were all my resolutions for when the yearning returns so easily. Where is the self control?

Either way Jastine's surgery was "great success", as i quote him Though he'll be warded a minimum of 4 days i suppose the success means he won't be facing any complications and i really hope the pains bearable. Short term pain is worth it boy, i've got faith in ya.

Now i've got a four day blank to fill in, though nothing much has happened due to me unexpected blindness and the looming A levels. (actually alot of months more) But, we watched 300 on wednesday! (and i'm the only legal one =/)

Slavedriver: the arrows will be so numerous that they will blot out the sun!
Spartan: So much the better, we shall fight in the shade.

That is a factual line spoken by Dienekes. While i feel the line could have been stretched longer for better effect, it is probably the scene to watch the movie for. Of course, if you're under 18 you'd have to sneak in due to the frequent flashes of breasts bouncing around and the copious amounts of blood splashing everywhere. Of course, the visual effect of some of the God-King Xerxes' "experiments" may be quite traumatising for the weak at heart.

But it is an excellent movie with jaw dropping choreography and a soundtrack vastly deviating from those usually associated with ancient battles. The effect of this deviation is perfection for the show. The courage and the sheer intensity of the legendary battle is cleverly recreated in the movie and throughout it there was little incentive to tear our eyes off the screen (except wenyi, who was happily stealing my drink AND cookies)

The courage of mortal men in the face of impossible odds is usually only achieved when they have a great goal or mission. It is that drive inside us, that reason for fighting on that grants us the spark of divinity to lose ourself in the pursuit of that goal. Of course, self sacrifice is neither the most desirable nor the most accoladed of outcomes when there is success to consider. "To do, or die trying" is a common phrase that many use, so much so that it almost becomes a flippant expression of a desire to succeed, for tasks big and small. To use such a phrase perhaps instills them with that subconscious thought that failure is damning and that pushes themselves to strive beyond their limits, it fills them with the conviction to push themselves till they must stop. It represents the want to succeed, to protect or destroy or achieve. We will all find a goal one day that is worth the risk of death - a person, an ideal, an object, a dream, an illusion even. And that is when you should "prepare for glory".


Then on friday we had an SJI dinner at Fish n co after realising that Manhattan fish market had an amazingly long queue (along with just about every other eating place in ps) As it was August's birthday MJ and i got the Benriks diary for him so he can change his life this new year while Andrew and Michael got him a lycra spaghetti strap thing so he can change his sex this same new year. In the end he had to wear it as he stood on his chair, holding a sparkler, and endure curious looks as the staff sang the fish and co birthday rap and made him blow out the candles on the (yummy) cake while standing straight.

Then august turns to me and says "my birthday wish is for you to wear this. =)" And so he stood up and proceeded to put the stretchy black thing over my head and soon enough everyone was helping to pull the thing over me, commenting on how it works on me as tank top, sports bra and spaghetti stripe all at the same time. At least i wasn't alone as we started playing games like 7-up and 007 with the forfeit of having to wear the thing and walk around fish and co, both levels of it. (Lucky i didn't have to walk around in it) Michael and then Zhiquan had the honour of getting to parade august's present in front of the other fish n co customers (Andrew narrowly missed it by claiming sudden death is not the way to play 007)

I must say michaels abs show through the lycra material quite well and that zhiquans white shirt made the black thing stand out even more. Got pictures but being the tech loser i have no clue how i'm supposed to post them up so i guess noone have to have their retinas burnt out my pictures of grown men wearing a tiny overstretched piece of lycra.

We chowed through over $250 of food and drinks between the dozen or so of us and paying was considerably more efficient then we expected, other than having to complain about how we were charged an extra fish n chips. While MJ happily planned a small little outing august and i found it in ourselves to call in a few extra people (and people mj overloooked, the bastard) KT appeared as well in the middle of nowhere to supplement the acjc bowling team's turnout.

me: eh i didnt know you were coming sia.
kt: ya, neither did i.

And i realised climbing the "love" outside fish n co is legal! Cause theres no sign that says "climbing this is illegal" and i'm not vandalising anything, in fact i'm helping them clean the dust off...

not that it matters

Got up quite grumpily today as i prepared for my early morning follow up with doctor Yeo at SNEC all the way in Outram park. Wasn't sure what to expect but given my blurry vision and the perpetual haziness to my vision, i must admit i did not have my hopes up high. So it came as a pleasant surprise to me when i managed to pry from the opto-something (the bugger who checks eye power) that my right eye's power was 300 from the usual 800, though it makes me wonder why i always have to painstakingly ask for such information.

I sat waiting for my turn to see the doctor in a considerably chirpier mood than before. (mommy as giving me grief over, well, everything as usual) As i entered though his first few words were quite stunning for me as he told us my eye pressure was at a whopping 42 and quickly asked for my eye to be anaesthised for the more accurate but painful pressure check. 42, that was double the usual pressure of 20-25 that he told me a month before and i was more than worried with the condition of my eyes. As he checked i hoped hard that it was a mistake by the grossly inaccurate machine the evaluation room uses.

Alas, he sat back and sighed, his words resonating in my mind as he repeated that it was indeed 42. He proceeded to the next problem, my cataracts. Previously he felt that as it was caused by injury, it should resolve by itself soon but as he takes another look, he sadly says it is too severe to go away by itself and while it would pose no large problem, i would have to undergo the surgry. A gauge of how severe it was: he could show the cataract to my mother whom had no experience with any such situation.

Surprisingly this came up as the good news, in a way, especially compared to the first. After all, the cataracts replacement has a 99% chance of success (of failure, i'd rather not think about it) and after the surgery the vision of my eye would be at worst 50 degrees or so. While having to face surgery and the usual problems to follow were indeed troublesome, they occupied no significant portion of my thoughts as they could be brushed aside for the next one or two years. Besides the trouble of intolerance to sunlight and blurry vision would be inexistant if i can't see in the first place.

The true problem lay in the onset of glaucoma. Armed with spiffy, expensive new eyedrops courtesy of the friendly pharmacy staff i hope to drop the pressure in my eye to an acceptable level by the next follow-up, set worryingly for next friday. Of course, other than the eyedrops there really isn't much i can do but hope and pray and watch passively as the condition of my eye changes, hopefully for the better.

To different thoughts, the renovators for the kitchen were supposed to come today to put in concrete and whats-nots and after a long lecture by my mother for me to force them to construct some barrier thing (she has a meeting) i was unexpectedly eager for their arrival to see how the cheerful muscular chinese dude would try to comprehend what i would try to put across.

By 2 i was wondering when exactly they were coming. By 4 i was decided to go slurp some kopi at the hawker centre to chill before they came. By 6 (now) i was convinced they were busy praying for rain (which started in a downpour a while ago) so that they could slack off for the day. I wonder indeed how my mother will start screaming when she gets back. I actually sms-ed her but she hasn't replied.

Maybe she crushed the phone in anger.

Oh well, its their lives.

bitter

After chewing into a novel and exhausting myself with excercises to salvage some semblance of physical capability i still felt the tang of bile in my throat. For some reason the bitterness lingered for the past one and a half days in stinging spasms of memories and reminders as i try to look to the light. Yet why do i feel empty and forgotten? It feels like staring at the sky in the dark yearning for the light that will only come hours after, but even then the sun may refuse me its warmth.

I promised not to start sad posts again, that the last one would be the last. Yet it seems to have become a habit to repeat my sorrows in posts that only change in my way of expressing them as unseen pain and anger rages behind the alphabets. But still i smile. Still i laugh. I cannot understand that tendency i have to grin where i should growl, to chuckle when i should scream in outrage. To stay impassive whilst my mind tears itself apart. Though i know that understanding would take it away and make me wholly unpleasant it still sparks curiosity due to my innate fear of "not knowing".

In the fictional book i'm reading, a young Julius Caesar speaks of Alexander (the Macedonian):

"By the time he was my age, he had conquered the world. They said he was a God, compared to that, i have wasted my life."

Words that aptly describe the factual dissatisfaction with himself under a statue of Alexander in Hispania.

Was it such a spark of inadequacy that drove him to become one of the most remembered men in history? But most of us should have wondered before as we gaze upon the prodigies and talents, wondered how we might be the ones with fame and power and pride. We may measure ourselves against them and realise they were not so much more superior to us but yet they had achieved what we could only gasp and grasp at. How we would groan and wish we could turn the gears of time back so that we could bask in glory instead.

That is useless wishing i gave up eons ago for its waste of time. If every man with capability succeeded then the world would be so full of successes that nobody would be successful. Perhaps that is the case, just that with the sensationalisation of more public, more interesting events, the greatness within each of us is smothered against the that of everyone else until all seemed insignificant. Or perhaps it is simple logic that not everybody can be allowed the same oppurtunities, that success often came with luck and good timing and that it was fate or destiny or whatever you may call it, that separates the glorious from the rest.

No matter our age, there are still oppurtunities for success, for immortality in our deeds. Age matters not, it is still a feat to conquer the world whether you are 20, or 40 or we can carve out new limits for the world, create new visions and dreams and goals for ourselves. Rather than live our lives cursing normalcy and looking wistfully at the names glowing in eternity perhaps we should consider standing up and engraving our own names upon the obsidian darkness of time to shine forever in human minds.

I wish i would.

and wish harder i can.

appalling

I'm shocked at how i've become weaker, flabbier, slower. I just got back from bringing groceries home from the market and the light weight of the 5 or 6 plastic bags gave me more than just a little trouble as i stumbled home with them. I've truly languished for the past two months as i faced injury after debilitating injury due to my carelessness and assuming nature. I can only blame my own stupidity.

Currently I'm not even sure if i can train, while i do light weights at home now and then i still feel the worry that an intense training programme may aggravate my eye. I'm not worried about the shoulder now, thats taken care of. The doctor told me i could use my arm as normal, just no swimming, no pull-ups or push-ups for 6 months or "it will pop out", to quote him. He specifically said "you can throw" even, not that it matters anymore.

In a way there is a sense of irony and bitter regret that as i finally get the go-ahead to start usign my full strength in throwing and batting and gymming i sustain another injury. Thats perhaps one of the issues thats been nagging away in my chest, reminding me of how twists of fates and coincidences are not as uncommon as you would think. Well like i said, i assume too much for my own good and that ultimately has been the cause of many if not all of my problems. Anyway i suppose they've long finished their games for today, but i wouldn't know, i haven't heard anything from them and somehow i doubt i will be hearing anything from them till someone remembers me. I deign to ask them, in a silly way i believe i can still retain some pride by doing so. Buts its okay, its alright, good job, whatever the outcome was.

I am an envious, regretful person. Whilst contemplating i tear myself apart for things i did, for things i didn't do, for things that will never affect me again but were humiliating in that one short moment. I'm not even sure why i torment myself over memories and times long past, especially those that have no impact whatsoever. Yet in a hypocritical mockery of myself i keep telling people how theres no point fretting over whats been done, whats unchangeable. Perhaps its that small altruistic part hidden in me thats telling me to comfort people such that they will not be a fool like me. Possibly its because by giving such advice i can make it more of a reality for myself and one day i can convince myself to forget. Or maybe its just me spewing pseudo-philosophical nonsense as usual.

This incident will certainly haunt me again in the future as a shade that manifests and multiplies and splits itself into a million different forms to torment me. Even now i sometimes sit and wonder for long moments how things could have been had i been an fc and dodged the ball, or had i been less assuming and been more ready for it. What i might do in a game, what i could do in all the different situations, how the team might fare as a whole. How, what, may, if, could have, would have, might have, should have - these words keep springing up and in their presence i crumble with the self-pity i always find myself wallowing in. It is my nature, my pathetic, loathsome nature to indulge myself in wasting time on unchangeable pasts that boast no lessons to teach, no values to offer.

I hate me.

and you do too

homeland

Kuribayashi: Is this still Japanese land?
Saigo: Hai

Upon the black soil of Iwo Jima Kurabishiya proceeds to take out his gun, a gift from an American officer, and shoots himself in the heart as he watches the sea, probably in the direction of Japan. To die for your homeland, on your homeland, defending your homeland. The film focuses quite abit on the Japanese military's obsession upon such values, the ideals that makes them a force to fear.

It also, however, shows us another important aspect of war that many glory seeking fools undermine and spit upon. That war isn't fought to kill enemies, to pillage and rob and rape but instead it is always about defending your people, your nation. For upon their backs, the civilians at home, they carry the greatest burden no matter the outcome of the war. For who rebuilds? Who repopulates? Who slogs to turn the wheels of the economy again? Who carries on the culture and blood and pride of the people? Not the glorious patriarchs who died fighting, not the dead bodies of the enemies slain, but the survivors.

Saigo survives in the end, under American care whilst all the other comrades he had were dead. He lives to see his wife again, to greet his daughter whom he hadn't met. Many may call him a coward for running and retreating and surviving where he should have died but in the end its a persons choice what and whom he dies for. For every surviving soldier there is one more person to bring bread home, one more wife who gets her husband back, one more child spared from a fatherless life. Better to live in defeat then to die in glory - The words of a coward? Or someone brave enough to continue facing life?

National service is coming for me and all that lies between me and it is 11 months, a national paper and a hell load of visits to the doctor. While I'll probably be getting, sadly, PES E or something cause of my arm and eye, its interesting to think what'd i'd do if i found myself in Saigo's position. Would i retreat to live another day or would i stay and take down as many soldiers before i died? I suppose i'd think of which action benefits the country more, since i'm probably going to end up dying anyway, i might as well pick the more stategic choice. Or not.

Either way i doubt such situations will ever happen to Singapore, any attack by another country could probably take out our tiny island nation before any tunnels can be built. That is, if theres even any underground space left to dig, we do, after all have MRT and drainage systems and whats nots. Besides, our governments too pragmatic to enter a war after considering the collosal fundings that one would require, and the usual economic devastation that usually follows.

Whats worth dying for? To me, it wouldn't be my "homeland", after all its just a speck of dirt, a clump of soil amid clumps of soil. Its the people that are worth dying for, because to me thats what makes a country, thats what life is for. The buildings can fall and the flags may burn, the grass razed and the land overrun, but if the people survive, if they exist and retain their identity, the country lives on.

For a nation is its people, not its soil or its culture or its ideals. Just the Toms, Dicks and Harrys walking on the street.


and you can never beat them all

whats the point

me> i think im going to need counselling for depression soon.
b> noneed la you've been fine for the past few years what.
me> oh, ya.

It dawned upon me how i've probably been living with minor (i hope) depression for the past half decade or so. Though i found a way to make myelf stay alive and focused somewhat it gets tiring sometimes and in times when my normal routine is broken the effects really seem to spill out.

Do you wake up each day and the first conscious thought you have is "whats the point?" and you just don't want to move? Can you lie in bed for hours even when you've woken up just repeating whats the point in your head? Sometimes my mother thinks i sleep 12hours on weekends because i'm tired after a school week, actually its just 6 or so cause the rest of the time i'm just awake but having no impulsion to sit up and live.

I guess it began a long time ago in primary school where after enduring rigorous mental brainwashing by my parents that i started asking myself "whats there in life?". After all when you've been stripped of your dreams, of the compulsion and ability to create dreams, there isn't much in life to look forward to, just the purposeless, inevitable path that i seemed to have to walk. I remember a stupid icebreaker game the OGLs played at Changi where someone asked "have you ever considered suicide?", i thought "yea, primary 4." That shocked me.

I still don't have a dream, no goal, no purpose, no sense of future. At least i'd learnt to deal with my chronic depression, no not drugs or alcohol but by engrossing myself. I am the type who tends to spend long periods of time reading, gaming, training, the type who walks around glazedly thinking about something else rather than reality. Its because only when i immerse myself into a linear, engulfing experience that i can stop thinking of the fatal three words that turns me into a near comatose state. Even blogging, like now, is a way of staying distracted.

Thats why when my friends bring me around i never know where i'm going, where i am, thats why i always miss stops and forget thoughts. All because if i let my mind stay grounded to reality for too long, i'd end up sinking into depression. Thats why i think and contemplate and theorize enough to come up with wierd, random posts just like this.

As a young boy i suffered severe imsomnia, not that my mother ever believes her child (destined to support her) could be less than perfect, and so i had lots of time to contemplate life and people. I would think of how my parents, my siblings, my relatives, classmates and teachers treated me, treated others, behaved, talked, moved, thought and i would try to link everyone together, to find a reason behind their actions to understand them better. To understand why they why they did everything.

Now its more or less a subconscious pastime so that my mind stays unfocused. Like a spoilt dam the data just enters and formulates by itself, keeping me constantly sidetracked inside. I think everyone does something like that, evident in how we can say "i doubt he meants it" or "i didnt expect that", because we look at people through the translucent image that we created in our minds.

These past few months i had softball training to tire me out and to keep my mind too lethargic to think. As can be seen by the sudden influx of stupid emotional posts the lack of activity while i was confined to a hospital (and my own) bed for 2 weeks forced me to think about such things. After all i couldnt constantly think of softball, work, movies, people for 2 straight weeks, my thoughts inadvertantly but constantly finds their way to such topics.

Anyway i think its a checkmate. I doubt theres any more hope for softball - for me that is. Cause my eye isn't really well, i haven't seen the coach, let alone trained for almost a month, and most importantly, the first game is on sunday, this sunday. It has been the reason for me going to school - the only reason - for the past few months, the light at the end of a day of lectures. Still, its over, the flings ended but yet its more of an expected conclusion rather than a shock. The past few weeks had been a tormentious period of endless praying, hoping,wishing with white fists that i'd be able to recover, that i'd be able to train, that i could go back for that one last shot. I guess i can almost sigh a sad relief that its nearly over. That all i need to do is hear the results of their first official match - that i missed - to tell me with a slap in the face that i'm done.

Its really the end, I'm not an excellent player like Park or Yongkiat and neither am i going to get any experience (no play, no gain) so i'd never get into the NS team (or whatever) and so there isn't really much of a chance for me to play softball again in my life. Its not just a "cool off time", its the whole "fuck you i want a divorce i dont ever wanna see you again". And thats exactly how i feel.

Thats one more hole thats been dug somewhere inside me. I can find it, prod it but i can't cover it up with rocks and sand cause it never closes. Thats another hole for me to curl up in as i wake up in the morning, unwilling to move my body to even slide off the bed. My alarm clock in the morning isn't the spongebob squarepants that my phone plays or the increase in heat as the air-con switches off but purpose. All i need is to find something to do as i wake up to tell me "thats the point" and i get rid of the lethargy.

I need to find another reason. I need to find another sedative for depression. I need another pill.

I need a life.

Just let me sleep

mask of sanity

Some people think they don't know me, i can't agree more, i don't even know myself. In fact, i don't believe anyone in the world truly knows anyone, not even themselves. Some tell me that there are people who can pluck thoughts out of their mind, who can finish their sentences and know exactly how they feel, what their thinking. That is just understanding abit of their personality and mostly guesswork.

After all, are you even sure you know what you think? what you believe? Are you sure that whats going on in your mind isn't really just a lie to yourself? When you lie, lets say a white lie, when you tell yourself you're doing the right thing, are you sure its right, or is it just self deception? Are you even sure that the rights and wrongs we percieve are truly right and wrong

We are affected by every single "input" we recieve. It is not just words or events or actions, its everything. Everything from the way the colours in your vision move when you shake to how your foot falls upon the ground with every step. We are shaped by what we do, see, hear, know, guess, assume, perceive, believe, hope for - everything.

In a Darwin style of saying it, we evolve. Our personalities are not inborn, we aren't born with a certain persona thats supposedly God-given, it is as we pass through life and its experiences that our mind adapts and creates its own persona. With every word and action, mistake or success we grow something upon ourselves, the lessons we perceived to have learnt are imprinted somewhere in our mind, changing us gradually as we experience more.

Each new "lesson" we learn with time and experience is just like adding clay or scotch tape to our personality to smoothen it out to what seems the "rightest" to ourselves, to people. To some the scotchtape on our mask shows more, with others maybe the clay works better. Either way we always have something hidden from someone behind our masks, we always have different traits to show different people. We are different in some way to everyone we meet. We cannot help it, it is natural to keep some feelings, thoughts and emotions to ourselves, to show traits the person is friendliest with. Baring everything to anyone is like giving your life up, your identity, you keep nothing for yourself, no secrets, no comforts, you lose your life. As much as we hate to admit it, it is the secrets we keep that makes us feel special, alive, unique because we think only we know it, because its your secret and yours alone. If someone else knew everything about you, that person could become you, just more because they have their own secrets.

As we build our mask(s) we lose track of ourselves, that is if we actually know ourselves, or an "ourselves" even exists. We are affected by everyone, how they speak, how they move, how they talk, look, portray themselves and we are also influencing everyone else - no matter how slightly. We subconsciously follow things that work, and give up things that don't. Before you even realise there was a start to your personality's development you're already mired in your experiences and can only watch it in the midst of its growth - and it never stops.

Many feel that they want to be true to each other, to everyone, they want to bare their heart and lay their minds open for all to see and pick through. But what they lay out can only be their mask, for your true personality, the true decider of thoughts and creator of dreams within us is not so easily accessible, it is our soul, the thoughts that represent the most basic of our primal instincts. These simple "functions" affect every emotion, every thought in an exponential fashion due to all the connections in our minds. Every action affects a thousand thoughts and every thought is affected by a thousand actions in an infinite matrix of interlinked experiences that in the end describes our souls and creates our faces. The best a person can do is to show the face that best expresses our soul for that is the deepest we can dig into ourselves before we get lost in endless contemplation and insanity. They say that humans are the most sophisticated, intelligent creatures on Earth, perhaps thats the explanation to why we cannot even understand ourselves.

Human communication (as many self-help, self-improvement books suggest) is not limited to just words but also gestures, body language, dressing and as we are affected by every such thing, it is not hard to believe that all the faces we own, or are, are such complex tools and that we are thus multi-faceted deep inside where ideas strike our soul and is intepreted infinitely like a kaleidescope of feelings and ideas. People say "stay true to yourself", I ask "which self". Many grouse how they feel they are caught between sides, how they cannot choose, thats probably because they can't decide which "mask" they truly are, or want to follow. After all some choices mean we have to give up masks, and that means damaging relationships we had nurtured with those masks. Remember how some people say they lose friends upon marriage? Thats one such choice.

Even as i type this i wonder about the people who will read this, the different people i know who know me by my different faces and who see me in different lights and angles, attitudes and stereotypes. As i type this my mind has conflicting, clashing ideas and formulations, "will this make so-and-so pissed?", "should i really say this?", "won't who-and-who think this is directed at them?". It is hard to think linearly, it is hard to decide what i want to write, what i wish to show and tell for this is ultimately a post on my opinions, not a thesis of facts and theories. It is just how i feel, what i think.

As much as i have refered to our personalities as a montage of different masks, i believe that rather than masks we can actually call them parts of our faces, the hardened, altered skin that protects our fragile souls that are still part of us, still what we are. We cannot always take the truth, cannot always tell it, so we protect ourselves. We steel ourselves beneath all our layers of beliefs and "truths" and hopes and lies and we tell different people different things to prevent hurting them or ourselves. We do it because we care and worry.

We go through all this trouble because we are human, and so we know that it hurts and stings, sometimes unnecessarily, to hear the truth. So we lie. So we show our different sides. And so when we look at others we understand that the face they show you, they do it because they need to. Because thats the face they feel the most comfortable in with you, because they think its the face you are the most comfortable with with them, its how we adapt.

Do not lie that you've never lied, our lives are made of lies, on lies. As negative as the word is, its implications are not, it is an unavoidable sin. When we decieve ourselves and others and let personalities be built upon that, they cease to be lies, they become truths to us because that will be our perception and then we create our own ideals and beliefs based on it. That is how we live and think, so don't feel like an evil, mean, two-faced sinner when you next talk to your different friends differently. As long as you know that that face is what you and those people are happiest with, it works.

Or at least thats what i perceive.

Jesus was sinless, we're not Jesus.

silent screams

Jastine had a recurrence, his lung deflated or something again whilst he was walking around in maths lecture. Though he is in no current danger, hes due for surgery in about 2 weeks, to lower the risk of it happening again. Go for it, good luck man.

Thats another blow we've got, if they had called an ambulance it'd be the fourth time already. A life threatening case, too. We're now two people sitting in the same boat rocking around, screaming out at the endless sea of hopes and dreams and loves and wishes, listening to the screams fade to nothingness. Broken dreams and shattered hopes are all i can think of now. Both of us face a wall that we can climb and risk everything, or ignore. I feel the climbs worth it, but the world doesn't, the suspension speaks for itself, the attitude tells you even more. It ain't fair, as much as we can wish and dream and ask why this happened to us, its already happened, we can't change anything.

Despite all these we have our lives, at least. While i face being partially blind (of which i think is gonna be the case..) and while he lives wondering if his lung will hold, at least we have lives to risk. At least there are people who are going to ask us how we are, people who will mock us for it, people who will shun and pity and emphasize and care and worry about us. At least we have a future of some kind.

I'm not sure why, but looking at my msn list i see classmates of Ruihua online. I can't help but wonder what i'd feel if a classmate just unexpectedly disappeared. If someone i know, whom i saw everyday and talked to and laughed with just, passed away. What would i do, how would i feel? How would i cope with the loss? It isn't some game where you can just "restart", it isn't as if the persons emigrated or changed school. It won't just be the physical loss thats shocking. The voice, the face, the bag, the hair, the shoes, everything will be gone, never to be seen again in the flesh.

Once, a family friend passed away. He was a jovial indian man who often sat around the house watching Bollywood movies. I remember it like it was yesterday, how we'd watch movies together even though i had no clue what was going on, how he'd make me eat veggies, how he'd tell me not to jump on the bed. Then one day he had a heart attack while holidaying with my godmother. And that was it, he never came back. I never saw him again, never heard him say "must eat your veggies" or "arsenal will take them down!" or "look at that lovely dance", i'd never get to pat his belly or play with his beard again. It was shocking how all these things i'd done regularly and almost unconsciously were about to be my fondest memories of the man. I'd woken up one day expecting to see him but was instead met with the choking news that he was gone. A Void i had never experienced before appeared, it was like his passing left a hole in me i could not find, could never close even if i did. After all, death is eternal. I could not even cry. I just had fever for the next week. I - we - love and remember you Uncle Arun, you and your Veggies, Arsenal and Bollywood.

We live our lives counting the time by years and months and days while the arc of existence stretches forward and backward infinitely. Our lives seem so insignificant in the multiverse of endless possibilities yet we treasure each other so, so much. It is the bonds we make, the secrets and feelings and thoughts and time we share that gives each of us significance, that makes each of us substantial. Nothing can be remembered forever, after a million, billion, trillion years everything that happened before will disappear, will be forgotten and lost. So what counts is that in our short, insignificant scuttlings we make a difference to the people around us. That we exist through the people we love and they through us is what makes our lives worth living, no matter how long or short. As long as you care for someone, you'd be giving that person one more piece of meaning and existence that lets them live their lives with happiness and pride and confidence.
You'd be giving your own life meaning and worth.

Seize the day, they say. Live for the moment, they say. Live like theres no tomorrow, they say.

I say, just care.

life from others

cold

The rain today maade the weather cold, very very cold. People everywhere were wearing jackets and sweaters and extra layers to keep out cold. James complained about the lateness of the softball sweater. The softball sweater makes me think of the softball cap which makes me think of the softball team and training and everything else thats linked.

Its been 2 weeks. Officially, according to the doctor, i'm supposed to be well in health enough to resume "all normal activities". Despite this, my eye doesnt seem to have healed much, perhaps it has, but the gradual change was unnnoticed. Either way it doesnt seem like i'll be able to train for another week, though of course neither is anyone due to year2 common tests. But it makes me wonder about whats going to happen after my eye has stabilised, whats going to happen with this jacket that park insisted i will be getting, that some insist i take, and some who may be wishing i wouldnt.

If after everything is settled and resolved and my eye ends up (touch wood) incapable of keeping up with a speeding ball, leaving me no choice but to close the softball chapter of my life. I suppose i'll still be putting that jacket to use. The cap as well, i guess. I dont know why, i guess its the fact i can at least bear to wear it without feeling my self esteem slither away. Perhaps i'd feel like i'd retained some bit of worthiness to wear it, if only just barely.

Of course another possibility is that my eye recovers fully and my sight is better than ever (no more lazy eye!) but i end up getting led off the field by someone each time. I supposed i'll give it all up. If my passion can't even overcome cowardice and sniveling self interest i'll probably be too ashamed to don the jacket, to keep the cap. I may not even accept it for memories sake, after all what kind of memories would i want to remember if there was such an ending to them.

I feel stupid constantly thinking about this rather than concentrating on catching up with my colossal stack of un-read notes but its a phase that hasnt ended. This part of my life is still in transition with many - too many - unanswered questions, unaddressed issues, unsaid thoughts and underlying emotions. I'm not sure of what some people are thinking, they're attitudes to me have changed so drastically i don't know what to say to them and they don't even seem to notice me. I was standing and staring at someone like that on tuesday- he didn't even notice.

I guess this is another self-centred, boring emo post. I'm sorry, but this is whats on my mind all this time, everytime. I know i need to move on before common test starts, but i also know that i can't, and i won't.

cold people