1. Red wine beef stew crepes at Out of the Pan 2. Triple chocolate cheese cake at Canale

It's odd how I actually make the time each weekend to (re)pen down the thoughts and experiences that I went through after each and every week spent in BMTC; its almost become a weekly ritual for me. I also realise that I can never figure what tense to write in - do I follow the present tense that I use in my diary or the past tense, in a pseudo-recollection manner. But that isn't really the point of this post, so I shall stop digressing and continue.

It feels great to be back home, after a week of many firsts - my first time failing an actual IPPT test, my first 16 kilometres road march, my first time in retraining (RT). This week was, with little doubt, an arduous week (but then again, isn't every week like that), both physically and mentally, and to be honest, I'm especially glad and a tad bit surprised that it passed by and large so smoothly.

18.03.12 Book-ins have been, and will remain something that I will lament about. But this particular weekend, 2 things served to assuage that a little - lunch at Watami, and an early (take-away) dinner from Soup Spoon, with lovely baguette courtesy of Maison Kayser. Yes I do try to pamper myself (perhaps to a silly degree) on weekends, as a reward for the week that passed, and a means to comfort myself on the week ahead. My emotions towards the book-in on the 18th was relatively muted, relative to others, and that was probably because of the long admin/rest time that we had - IPPT was on the next day that as you'll see from below, didn't work out very well for me.

19.03.12 BPSM, or Basic Patrol and Security Module(at least that's what I think it stands for), as well as BCCT (why all the acronyms) were things that I've missed quite a bit of, courtesy of the almost innumerable reshoots that I went for; were the morning's activities, and to be honest, because I wasn't particularly interested in both, I cannot quite exactly remember what we did - my only recollection of it (as penned down in my diary) was that "it was nothing much". I suppose that's a good thing - it means that I handled it quite well - of course by the grace of God. What came after lunch - IPPT was however quite the opposite. My Achilles' heel - standing broad jump (SBJ) and chin-ups really ruined everything: 207cm for SBJ and a grand total of 1 chin-up is something that I am terribly embarrassed of, but at the same time, there was, and is little that I can do about it. These have, and continue to be the two items that kill my chances at getting a Silver achievement in the IPPT. I suppose the lack of opportunities to train - courtesy of reshooting, also played a part, but at the same time, it is also my lack of motivation to train during the holidays that is to blame for this. A pity really, as I passed everything else quite decently. A retest is coming up the week ahead. I suspect there'll be little improvement.

20.03.12 As with the previous day, BPSM was again on the day's agenda. In addition, something called Judgmental Shooting was also on it - it was very much like playing a video game with really bad graphics (it was at the IMT centre). Those 2 activities set the stage for what would be a really relaxed day - I suppose that was a way of God showing how He would never allow me to endure something which I couldn't handle (i.e. a day of intense physical activities right after IPPT). The rest of the day was spent helping out the NE skit team - I'm officially a part of that particular team, and I'm playing the role of a weeping woman who had just lost her child (it's a one liner role). Incidentally, below is a verse that I wrote at the start of the day, which in retrospect makes quite a bit of sense (I do believe in divine intervention):

1 John 4:7 - ".let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God."

21.03.12

2 Corinthians 5:7 - "For we walk by faith, not by sight."

The day was undeniably a tough one - one that I survived probably only by the grace of God. It started with something called the Ability Group Run, or AGR for short; an intensely tiring (for me at least) 20 minutes of continuous running. It was quite bad at the start, with a painful ache in the front of my legs, but it got better with time, and by the end of the run (which incidentally got extended because we didn't do it properly at first - at least according to the commanders). Subsequently, with little chance for a rest, we did our BCCT - with rifles. Yes, it was tiring - but it was also obvious (and explicitly stated) that what we were doing was a watered down version of the lesson plan. God is good - and I'm thankful for that. Following that was lunch, where the news that flashed on Channel News Asia (at least we have televisions in the cookhouse) reminded me of one thing: the world was, and remains a crazy place - an lone Islamist militant lose on a shooting rampage in Toulouse, an earthquake in Mexico and other depressing stuff. It is with little wonder that so many turn to religion, placing their hopes in a higher power, as a means to assuage the pains and struggles that they see around them. But back to the day's activities: following a mandated rest period, we started what I worried would be a fearsome feat - the 16 kilometres road march. I suppose one can say that God works in strange ways - a CAT 1 thunderstorm emerged just before our march was due to begin, and midways during our march (we were at the halfway point at a place called Rocky Hill on the island). And because of these weather disturbances, the march was conducted mostly along lit roads and pathways, rather than the pitch blackness of roads surrounded by forests. Nevertheless, it isn't an experience that I would like to repeat (but I'm quite certain it will) - my sweat literally amounted to a bucket-load (okay, maybe a small bucket), but at least we had sufficient water, and 100 Plus to replenish all that was lost; I was tired, and my foot was aching beyond measure, but He came to my rescue, and the march ended with me being in relatively decent spirits. So thank you God, your yoke is indeed light (yes I am alluding to Matthew 11:30). And (perhaps) more importantly, I had the chance to shower afterwards - I wouldn't dare imagine having to sleep in the state that I was in after the march.

22.03.12 The only 'high-key' (army speak for really important) event of the day was the SOC trial run, and apart from that, the day was relatively restful. That being said, it was far from a perfect day - first, I've been bitten like crazy on my legs by a whole melange of bugs, second, like the IPPT, clearing the SOC is a wee bit of a hurdle for me (literally speaking, as well as figuratively). The low wall and rope are things that I have a large issue in overcoming. Honestly, I really wonder how I even managed to get into the Enhanced (Leadership) batch, when I'm so far from the standard that the others in my batch are of. Oh well. The consolation was that the weather acted up once again, delaying our SOC run a little (and giving us a wee bit more of rest time), and second, we didn't do 'fault correction', presumably because of the tight schedule they were on. Incidentally, prior to SOC, we were punished as a company for one of the rare few moments in my BMTC life, over the poor relaying of information. The entire 3rd platoon of our company was late in reporting for the SOC activity, and so was the 3rd section of my platoon - how odd that both are connected by the number three. The day ended with three quarters of the company booking out, and the remaining 70+ of us staying back for both RT and confinement - my buddy is one of them.

23.03.12 I suppose I cannot say that my BMTC experience is complete without having been through at least one RT session - and I must say that it felt extraordinarily relaxed. Here's why - there is absolutely no structure to RT sessions; you get RT for not passing/doing well in something, but RT, unlike what it's name denotes, is not used to address that. Instead, what you get is 'own time own target' training, essentially, its entirely up to you how you want to spend your time. I suppose the aim of RT is merely to waste your time, and in doing so, there is an attempt made at deterring you from failing in the future so as to avoid that. The problem is, I am terrible at OTOT things, of which is clearly evident from how my holiday plans to exercise were so easily thwarted by other distractions. All I did on this particular day was 3 sets of 3 chin-ups, 4 sets of 7 lats pull-downs and a similar number of sets of leg presses. Honestly, I don't see how that should help me very much with overcoming both my chin-up and SBJ issues. Oh well. Lunch was spent with a section mate at The Soup Spoon in Changi City Point - it was really nice to have healthy food, on proper china after one week of cookhouse food; it is always thoroughly enjoyable to indulge on weekends, something that will feature in the subsequent blog post.

For the week ahead, I'm quite certain God has a plan for me - it has been this way for each and every one of the past weeks, and the past chapters of my life. So, please help me God, thanks.

It's not about asceticism, there's just a pleasure in seemingly empty spaces. It's difficult not to accumulate stuff and it's a full time job keeping what you have to a minimum, but there are benefits

John Pawson

I really love the purity and simplicity of John Pawson's work, which I blogged about (albeit briefly) some time ago; it's a design ethos that is clearly reflected in this statement that I ripped off from an interview that he did with Mr Porter.

Image Credit: The Sartorialist

There's something particularly elegant about that coat - white/cream simply makes it look so sleek and outstanding among a sea of black outerwear.

Arguably, this was the one verse that would aptly sum up how God has been working in my life this particular week.

Hebrews 13:5-6 - ". For He Himself has said, "I will never leave you nor forsake you." So we may boldly say: The Lord is my helper; I will not fear. What can man do to me?"

It was one that began at a low point, not unlike that of previous book-ins - one characterised by moodiness and weariness at the prospect of another week ahead at Tekong. The reason this time however differed: I was re-entering Tekong with a body that had barely a day to rest after Field Camp (regardless of it being better than my expectations), and furthermore, contrary to what I was promised the week before, I had to redo my BTP shoot for the third time. I believe that knowledge of the latter wore me down down more than the former did. Nevertheless, emotions, like many things else, are not permanent, and the frustration eventually lessened (but remained it did nevertheless).

12.03.12 It would be rather apt for me to use the colloquial term 'sian' to describe how I felt the night before the morning of the 3rd reshoot. But something felt different in the morning; placebo or otherwise, I felt a sense of reassurance from God that this would be the very final time that I would be doing this reshoot, and that I could, to quote the verse above, "boldly" claim victory over the hurdle that was BTP, by His grace of course. The day shoot started relatively well - I missed a total of 3 shots for the first portion, and none in the second. But that, in the eyes of Gryphon's commanders (yes, I had to join another company for my reshoot - that's how bad I am at getting a marksman), that was one shot too many, and I had to try the day shoot again for a second time. Unsurprisingly, as the weight of the rifle started to take its toll on my skeletal frame, my performance worsened to 6 missed shots. Understandably, what I felt at that point in time was a deep fear that history would repeat itself - that more reshoots were to come. Trusting in the Lord isn't an easy feat. To make matters worse, there was the worry that I wouldn't be able to pass my IPPT the following morning (at that point in time, I was not informed that the reshooters would be skipping it) - and the horror of an RT that came attached with that. Pardon the off-kilter and digressive moment here but during the reshoot, I've noticed that guys in Gryphon tend to read a lot more than those in Bronco, and the reading material itself is intersting; its either Time magazine, some self-help book or a sci-fi novel. Regardless of the degree of trust that I put into the Lord that particular day, He nevertheless still proved a faithful companion - the night shoot went by remarkably; it was a great improvement relative to my first and second shooting tries. I missed only 2 shots, leaving the total number of missed shots standing at a grand total of 5 - meaning I got my Marksman! The Lord is truly gracious - the whole day, I felt His hand of protection and guidance aiding me. And on a slightly related note, I now understand, in retrospect of course, another reason why God dragged me down for a 3rd reshoot with Gryphon. It was to make me see that I was truly blessed - unlike their Incik or Sergeant-Major, those of Bronco were either absent, or in the case of the latter, quite an interesting character - neither of whom could be solely characterised by the desire to shout (angrily) at recruits over all matters, major or minor.

13.03.12 Much like how it was following the previous reshoot, the morning that was the 13th of March was one where we could sleep till 8am - very much a luxury in BMTC. The morning was relatively relaxed, as we had little choice but to skip our IPPT, and in its place was an unhurried breakfast, the chance to pack up our stuff a little and so on. The afternoon however was nowhere as relaxed as our morning - we had to do the SOC, this time in standard battle order (SBO). Unlike most of the company, it was my first time donning on the SBO to perform the obstacle course, and good heavens, it is remarkably harder. Needless to say, I couldn't survive/pass it, particularly at the usual culprits: low wall and low rope (those devils). The consolation to that failure was a nice (by Tekong's cookhouse standard) Western-style meal, topped off by our very first early night routine orders (RO) - which capped the end of our regimental day at 9.10pm, leaving us with a nice one and a half hours before bedtime. If anything, the 13th was a good day.

14.03.12 The morning started in a particularly relaxed manner again - though this time, it wasn't planned by the sergeants or commanders, but by mother nature. BCCT training was cancelled because of a really heavy rain, and the only defining moment of the day was the 12 km road-march we did.

1 Peter 5:6-7 - "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that He may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you."

All of us were apprehensive of that 12 kilometres - it seemed a ridiculously long a distance to cover by foot. But clearly, the fact that I'm typing this here is a testament that one can overcome the seemingly crazy, especially when one has a God who cares for him. In fact, it was surprisingly bearable - probably due to the company that God put in place beside me: a section mate, whom I could chat and sing with to ease the burden of the journey. Beyond that, there was also a peer-appraisal session prior to the march, which was to be honest rather difficult for me, especially the part on having to evaluate people whom I see daily, in a serious manner (one with repercussions). But I guess that's just the way things go.

15.03.12 The supposed hallmark of the day; the supposed cumulative point of our BMTC happened on this day - the Battle Inoculation Course (BIC). It was meant to engage all that we had been taught in BMTC - jungle and urban warfare tactics, all set within a simulated war environment, where live firing overhead and simulated helicopter and bomb sounds were meant to add to that effect. All of that however fell a little flat, in my opinion, as we had to wait a little too long for our turn at the obstacle course - and in doing so, we not only grew accustomed to the noise of that 'war' environment, but worse, we grew numb to it. We were desensitized to the point where all I was concerned about was the weariness I endured from leopard crawling, rather than the sounds of bombs or the live ammunition used above me. But the Lord brought me through by His strength, and for that I am grateful. Lunch, like most of the week, was out-rationed: broccoli, a (fried) piece of chicken and mashed potatoes. Pretty simple stuff, just wished that there were a bit more broccoli. I realise that the army is feeding us quite a fair bit of fried food, and worse, is that I'm getting used to it. Subsequently, we cleaned the interior of our rifles for what we were told would be the last time - good heavens, it is a nightmare to get the parasite that is gunpowder off metal. SOC was next, and it was perhaps the lowest moment of the day - I felt incredibly lethargic, and once again, the low wall and rope proved to be an obstacle that was a pain to overcome. Oh well.

16.03.12 Unlike the other days of the week, this day was one that can be counted as being truly relaxed. Morning PT felt refreshing (after a rather sedative week - which usually is the case when one has a reshoot for some odd reason), followed by a visit to the Discovery Centre for some sort of National Education talk, before a nice dinner at Canale with the section mates. Yes, it was a good day.

Oh and as an ending note, I've applied for Architecture at NUS!

Below is an adaption of something that I had to write for my reflections on NS; one that had to be submitted to my sergeants - it was written post field-camp (and posted even later, 2 late weeks to be precise), because honestly, I'm sure you'll agree with me that writing in a dark and dank place isn't exactly a breeze, and as for the latter part, we all get lazy sometimes. Regardless, here it is:

The army has always been presented as an entity that promotes camaraderie between men - especially when these same few individuals undergo hardships together, but truth be told, I have yet to fully enjoy the degree of support that such a spirit promises, and it is probably due to my rather introverted nature. Up till my encounter with something that is known as Field Camp, my degree of perseverance and strength (in overcoming a situation that I'd rather not be in) was not drawn from this camaraderie, rather, it came primarily from two sources - myself, and then my faith in God. To go through 3 weeks of separation from one's loved ones, and week after week of physical and mental stresses almost entirely alone is most definitely a difficult and painful thing to endure. Faith in the divine is one thing, but being human is also being fallible, and I won't deny that there were times when the task felt too gargantuan for me to handle, with or without the assistance of God, though oddly enough; I always do manage to pull through at the end. But I digress, at least partially. What I meant to say was that however irrelevant I find the notion of jungle warfare in Singapore to be (especially since Singapore wouldn't attack Malaysia based on its current foreign policy), Field Camp was in retrospect a chance that God seized to reveal to me His grace and guidance.

I won't deny that things in Field Camp were very much out of my comfort zone - an insane amount of mud, bugs, the lack of proper hygiene and rest. Nevertheless, I think that I can safely say (with much surprise) that I managed to cope with it. I suppose it was partially due to the lack of choice, but I also believe that the fact that Bronco is considered a 'welfare' company played a part, the latter in my opinion is a demonstration of God's grace and work in my life.

The first and second day of Field Camp were largely similar: we slept in basha tents (albeit poorly - the ground was both uneven and hard, plus we had to constantly guard the cumbersome thing that is our rifle), played pretend war (pardon the sarcasm here) and ate out of field ration packets. It was not exactly the greatest fun that I had; we were rushed around like mad, made to , but it was equally unremarkable, and it passed relatively quickly - and I am thankful for that. The third day, unlike the previous two, was significantly different.

Arguably, the most arduous portion of Field Camp is on day 3 - digging one's shell-scrape ('Every Singaporean Son' most definitely revealed quite a fair bit of what to expect). One rifle's length wide, and 2 rifle's length long, deep enough for one's field pack, and undoubtedly a lot of soil to remove. The start actually began quite well for me - I was optimistic, it wasn't too hot in the morning, and I thought it would actually be a rather interesting experience. Everything except for the latter held true. There was nothing much to be optimistic about - it took longer than expected to dig, the soil was a pain to get out of the hole and getting the appropriate depth is one mean feat. But beyond shell-scrape, the other defining portion of day 3 was something that was expected, again because of what friends say, and the reality-drama 'Every Singaporean Son' - the receiving of letters from one's parents at the lowest point of the day. Hence, the expectation to tear at that moment was also there - I never thought I'd tear over something that was pre-planned and anticipated, but I did. And here's why: It was at that point that everything raced through my head: the immense amount of support my parents have for me, the blessing of being in Bronco (one that is quite focused on our welfare, rather than mere facades of gungho-ism and bravado). One could even say that I wept - tears flowed, as the commanders were talking about the importance of defense, because I was questioning God on why He was bent on making use of such moments to show His mercies and grace. Regardless on how they were shown, I felt particularly reminded about them during that particular moment of Field Camp.

The subsequent days (4-6) were spent doing 2 tests, the Field Camp test and SIT test respectively. To be honest, my lack of interest in such a lifestyle (I can be a bit of a pacifist, the notion of warfare isn't exactly appealing to me) probably left me with little desire to bother about the day's exact happenings. However, two noteworthy things that occurred within those days stood out particularly significantly: 1. We (the company) were made to tear down our bashas in the middle of a pitch dark environment, right before we were to sleep just because of the mistakes of a few individuals, 2. The SIT test is in my opinion a poor indicator of leadership potential - and I hope that the SAF addresses this. I shall elaborate on just the former; the latter is an opinion that is shared by many others.

For the first bit: I understand that discipline is especially important in a military environment. Commanders do face a great difficulty in organizing their men - especially tired ones. Movement is slow, the area is large, and the pool of people is equally sizeable, all of which are responsible for the difficulty in not only the relaying of (potentially vital) information but also that of merely assembling a company within an indicated time. The chaos that these aspects can lead to in a real threat was made apparent during the artillery attack simulation on the third day of Field Camp - frenzied movement (as people run and trip over an assortment of things), a barrage of shouts assaulting one's ears and so on; its not hard to imagine how much worse things would be in an urban setting with civilians running amok and all. But however important discipline is, one mustn't compromise rationality and sensibility to make that point felt. Discipline, as with all values, needs to be instilled in a resolute but patient manner, not rashly. It is not hard to imagine the sea of items that got lost amidst the darkness and chaos of a company rushing to tear down their bashas in pitch darkness, and unlike what Sylvia wishes for in 'Housekeeping', there is little hope of a restoration of these lost items, only the certainty of punishment for doing so. In this instance, many in the company, including my buddy, received a Confinement for losing even the smallest of items such as a tent pin. Poor people, a weekend was lost because of a silly decision, and for the commander who called the rash decision, some lost their respect for him - quite a terrible thing to happen in the military, even if it is just BMTC.

That being said, apart from these little complaints, this Field Camp was very much a breeze, especially when it is compared to what I had expected it to be - one filled with endless punishments, ridiculous hours of hiding in bushes and more.

And I have the Lord to thank.

Image Credit: Dezeen

Britain may be known for its ubiquitous brick-walled buildings, but I love how this seaside gallery in Hastings, England plays on that with a very different material - black glazed tiles. The reflective tiles, in their almost tarnished bronze state seem to mimic the visual effect of tin warehouses that typically line the side of ports, which I find especially clever and suiting.

Image Credit: ArchDaily

I've been meaning to write something about this for some time, but rather unfortunately, time isn't exactly on my side - but I digress.

It's really interesting how Kengo Kuma and Associates managed to bring such a local flavour to an otherwise very international (and by extension culturally-deprived) brand - the woodwork very much resembles a deconstructed Japanese temple, and in doing so, they have still managed to preserve the very defining essence of the Starbucks brand - warm cozy interiors, shelves of delicious coffee and who can forget, the green mermaid that is their logo. That being said, it would have been particularly interesting if they had employed traditional Japanese building techniques as well, rather than the mere superficial references to Japanese design.

I've found a carbonara that's better than Canale's, but it's double the price. Reading reviews online, and given it's price point, I had placed quite high hopes on the Carbonara at La Strada - and it was definitely not a disappointment. It's taste was remarkably nuanced and dare I say light, especially for a Carbonara - I believe La Strada's recipe followed the Italian version of the dish, rather than the more common American version. What I loved about La Strada's dish was that the pasta was handmade (or at least I think it is) - it wasn't all entirely regular in shape, and it was just al dente - perfectly cooked. The chewey bacon tossed inbetween the pasta along with the crispy slices of ham/bacon complemented the cheese (which wasn't overpowering) and truffle butter very nicely. The only pity: the portion was a tad small - just a small measure more would have been better, alternatively, I should have ordered it with a set lunch (starter and dessert). I'll most definitely treat myself to this whenever I have a carbonara craving, now that I've tasted and tried it.

It's better than Canale's - but then again, they are both under Les Amis.

Like the previous week, this week was a short one, but it was one that tested my mental resilliance, as well as the degree of faith that I put in God. The week was not particularly physically strenuous (the entire week was spent handling our rifles), but it was one that drained me nevertheless. I suppose any righteous Christian would speedily state that it is in our moments of trails that God reveals His grace - and I do agree, its just that sometimes, I genuinely wonder why it requires so much agony for God to be seen. But I'll get back to that a little later.

27.02.12 Starting the day with buttery Marks and Spencer chocolate cookies was undeniably one way to ease the book-in blues that I had experienced the night before. Quoting myself, I described those blues as being both "painful and depressing", but perhaps I was exaggerating. Incidentally, in my diary, that was juxtaposed against my description of my chocolate cookies as being "little pleasures in life. wonderful buttery and chocolatey bliss". On a related note, I have realized that food has become quite a form of respite for me - even the soggy onion rings and burger that I had packed in for dinner proved itself to be delicious; never would I have thought that I would be reduced to such a state. But I digress. I suspect such moments of feeling down would continue to make itself felt every time I return back into camp. The entire day was spent practicing something called Urban Operations, which in essence is military operations in an urban setting, as opposed to jungle warfare. We were promised that the day would be fun by our commanders, or rather, they hinted/suggested (perhaps subtly, I cannot quite remember) that it would be so. We were driven to this set of shophouses that was built in the middle of what would appear to look like a palm plantation - I'm sure this makes it quite apparent who the SAF considers a potential threat to Singapore's safety. Personally, I wouldn't quite consider shoddy shophouses an urban environment, but then again, building high-rises solely for such practices wouldn't make much economic sense either. Firing blanks in such a setting proved a novelty, at least for a while, and like all novelties, it wore off for me at least. I suppose the handling of a firearm isn't exactly my biggest interest, but for quite a lot of my other platoon/section mates, the day's activity proved to be particularly fun, especially towards the end when it became quite like a game of Counterstrike or (insert first-person shooter game here). All of our meals were out-rationed; not to be one who whines or complains too much but the consequence of that is the trouble of washing my metal cutlery - I should have brought disposable ones like what one of my section mates did. That aside, 2 rather nice points made the day: we had fish and chips for dinner (it wasn't excellent but nevertheless, it was fish and chips in the army) and second, I got a chance to shower (albeit rushed) without having to jostle in a queue.

28.02.12 - 29.02.12 Marksman - that was the standard that the company set for us for our live shooting exercise, otherwise known as PTP (to be honest I am completely clueless what the acronym stands for). At the start of my diary entry for the 28^th of February, I wrote that the day would be "less intense" than the day before, that there would be "a lot of waiting in-between" - basically, I thought that I would have quite a fair bit of time to rest and relax. In retrospect, not only were those thoughts off, they were completely wrong. I publicly declare on this blog that I am terrible at shooting, and I would like to add that the adage that practice makes perfect does not seem to apply for me in this case. The company sets targets (which in my opinion are generally reasonable) when it comes to shooting - on average it is no more than 2 misses per set of shots; anyone who fails to meet that minimum standard has to reshoot. Basically, I spent the whole of the 28^th shooting, and reshooting, and reshooting, and reshooting (you get my drift), in a bid to attain that minimum standard. For most, one reshoot was more than enough, but even after 3 reshoots for each set, I believe that I still failed to meet the Marksman standard. It was especially terrible for the night shoot - I estimate that I missed at least 50%, if not more of the targets. IMT - Individual Marksman Training, a computer simulated shoot, had lied to me about my prospects of attaining the Marksman achievement. It was especially demoralizing to see how everyone else was succeeding, and yourself failing miserably, that being on top of the physical toll that reshooting repeatedly took on your body. I was extremely tired and drained by the end of the day (can you believe that it started at 8am and ended at 1am), and I won't deny that I was feeling frustrated at the perceived lack of help from God. Unsurprisingly, results that bad (though honestly, I believe my end score was somewhat close to the minimum standard required to be considered a Marksman) led to me being drafted for a second day of shooting - the small pool of fellas like myself were deemed 'bobo shooters' - I suppose bobo is Malay for zero. The second day was especially painful because apart from the 16 bobos that included myself, everyone else had cleared that particular hurdle. Reshooting yielded results that were no better than the first day, on the contrary, I believe I fared even worse, at least for the day shoot, than before. Like the first day, there was quite a fair bit of waiting and failing - that was when I really started to question why God wasn't helping me. I felt frustrated, angry and weary - evidently the lack of sleep was taking its toll. All I can say about the day was that in the end, I still failed to attain my Marksman, but I did realize a few things: That God was there all the while, albeit in ways unexpected - the nice officer from my platoon that constantly encouraged me, the generally helpful SMEs that guided me along, and most significantly, the part about not having to reshoot for a third time. Truly, it was only by His grace that I survived the two days without breaking down.

01.03.12 Relative to the other days, the day was incredibly relaxed: waking up at 7.30am, enjoying my cookies, rifle cleaning, and perhaps rather oddly (for me at least to say this) the rather refreshing group run - the last bit was probably because of the lack of proper physical exercise in the entire week. It was also my first time in the week eating at the cookhouse for both lunch and dinner - dare I say, I had missed doing that; eating out of paper boxes was getting rather vexing. I suppose the only thing that I could complain about the day was the immense difficulty of getting a rifle spotless - carbon residue really does stick on really well to the rifle's metal. But all in all, I felt really good on the 1^st of March, perhaps from the (subconscious) knowledge that God had guided me through the past week. I know that I need to trust God for the upcoming field camp, of which is something that I am dreading.

Psalm 56:3-4 - "Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God (I will praise His word), In God I have put my trust; I will not fear. What can flesh do to me?"

When you eat the labour of your hands,
You shall be happy, and it shall be well with you.

Psalm 128:2

Returning to my alma mater (SAJC) today was quite a surreal encounter - gone was the anticipation of drudgery that used to plague my soul as I trudged through the halls of the school, replaced by an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and anticipation, as I awaited the results of 2 years of work in the company of my friends and former schoolmates.

Unlike some of my friends, there was little nervousness in my spirit - perhaps my mind was preoccupied with the fear of the imminent field camp; perhaps it was because I had seen and felt the grace of God working in my life over the past few weeks, a comforting hand that suggested that there was already a plan for my life ahead. It was wonderful being in the company of the people whom I had studied (to varying degrees of intensity) over the past 2 years; to see our efforts cumulate in this one moment - receiving knowledge of our A-Level results.

General Paper	H1	A
Physics	H1	B
Literature in English	H2	A
Economics	H2	A
Mathematics	H2	C

To be honest, my feelings are mixed about my results - veering from happiness and disappointment to even a lack of emotion. They are decent, I suppose; I know they pale in comparison to the top scorer of my school, probably to those of my section mates from RI and HCI, but nevertheless they were decent. It was by the grace of God that I did how I did, however there was disappointment - my Math grade. Mathematics was a subject that I had invested quite a significant amount of effort in, it was the only subject that I took up tuition for, heck, I had worked harder on it than I had on Physics (a subject which I was not particularly fond of). And yet I got a C. I don't know, God, you had promised that our labours would be rewarded, especially if we put our trust in you. I'm sorry for that rant, I know that such rants are not only insensitive, but it is reflective of how warped the priorities in my life are (that I'm putting the temporal above the eternal) so forgive me Lord, for I am only human.

I suppose I have nothing more to say, except that my future is really in the hands of God.

Image Credit: Dominic Wilcox

I have nothing else to add, except that I'm truly amazed by how creative this artist is to come up with the concept of using a watch to illustrate the constantly changing social issues around us.