I have more insight than all my teachers,
for I meditate on your statutes.
I have more understanding than the elders,
for I obey your precepts.

My birthday wish, I suppose, is not one of a material nature. I yearn for wisdom - not knowledge, but a deeper understanding and maturity in thought.

I'm really blessed to have good friends in my life - albeit a small pool, but numbers don't matter in these sort of things.

10 April, 10.23pm. The light in my room was turned off - something which I hadn't done before I left for the shower. Sigh, "those two people next door."; the folks in the adjacent bunk had once came into my room to turn off the light while I was out. Nothing significantly wrong with that, though I'd prefer if they did not trespass in such a manner. I opened the door, and I saw 2 back-lit figures in the room, one sitting on my bed, the other standing behind it - the effect of it was not unlike that of the photographical term contre-jour, but I digress. That bothered me, and my mind spurned such thoughts: what the hell are the two of you doing in my room; not only do you turn off my light, now you're trying to scare me? As I inched towards the light switch, a deep voice boomed behind me. It was familiar, yet I couldn't see how that should happen. It was S from my previous section. Flick. And I was surprised. S, CL, JX, Sgt P and PS YK were all in the room, and a small yellow (unmistakably cake-containing) box sat on a chair in the middle of the room.

Thanks for the surprise, it really made my day (which was otherwise a boring one).

12 April, night. Kilo (it's atmosphere and food) was great, but the company was greater.

We are both victims and exploiters of the system.

In Soderbergh's Side Effects, there is a faint line between antagonists and protagonists. Everyone's morally ambivalent, everyone is driven by the same desires. Rooney Mara's performance as the seemingly depressed Emily is stellar - one cannot predict how insidiously her character would play out, only that it would. Likewise, Jude Law's Jonathan fits perfectly into that calculative and scheming world, where profit and vengeance collude.

‘Scout’, said Atticus, ‘when summer comes you’ll have to keep your head above far worse things… it’s not fair for you and Jem, I know that, but sometimes we have to make the best of things, and the way we conduct ourselves when the chips are down - well, all I can say is, when you and Jem are grown, maybe you’ll look back on this with some compassion and some feeling that I didn’t let you down. This case, Tom Robinson’s case, is something that goes to the essence of a man’s conscience – scout, I couldn’t go to church and worship God if I didn’t try to help that man.’

‘Atticus, you must be wrong…’

‘How’s that?’

‘Well most folks seem to think they’re right and you’re wrong…’

‘They’re certainly entitled to think that, and they’re entitled to full respect for their opinions,’ said Atticus, ‘but before I can live with other folks I’ve got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn’t abide by majority rule is a person’s conscience.’

"It's like a worker's dormitory," I said, half-jokingly to CL.

10am, the warm morning light is diffused - that doesn't make the room any cooler. Nor do the small ceiling fans that whittle away incessantly (don't get me wrong, I rather have them do that than suffer the blazing heat of Brunei).

I'm lying on a grey double-deck bunk bed, and many more surround me - there are 2 rows of beds that face each other, 16 beds or so in each row. I'm lucky to have a fan near me, its far warmer sleeping below. The bed sheets are familiar, I think to myself. They are the same blue ones that are used in every Singaporean army camp. At least they seem clean - no dubious stains on them. I sit back up, its tiring to read while lying down, and I observe the narrow artery of the bunk. That grey concrete walkway, whose dark grey veins no one notices - surely that can allow for no more than 3 franticly rushing individuals (its always about rushing here and there in the army). Yet that isn't an issue on this day, or on many other days as well - most people are out in the Borneo jungle. The only proof of their frantic rush is the stuff left lying around: toiletries above their narrow green cabinets, footwear tossed about the tight space between every 2 beds.

I needed a break from A Clockwork Orange - Nadsat was really pissing me off. Or perhaps I was getting drowsy from it, I can't be sure. I looked up and stared at the pitched roof, and the wooden structural beams caught my eye. They were painted a disgusting shade of brown - why couldn't the builders have simply varnished the wood to allow the natural grains to shine through. It would definitely make the space less depressing. And then I stared at what was behind me: meshed screens, chock full of exoskeletons.

And then I thought to myself, this would be home for two weeks.

Its quite ironic that I should have to retreat to a densely populated city to seek solace, but I did, and it was wonderful.

"When they saw the star, they were overjoyed" - Matthew 2:10

It isn't quite doodling to sketch based on images from a magazine (Nat Geo Traveler), is it?

Mark 9:24 is fast becoming something that I quote quite frequently, perhaps in my bid to express the extent of my humanity in matters pertaining to a realm beyond my own.

I've been pandering a pretty dark valley these past few weeks, and this cry (the title of the post) has been on my mind along with other things. I want to believe in something real, I want You to be with me, I want Your rod and staff to be my source of comfort.

And hence it is rather interesting to be recommended two separate songs, along with a chance encounter today with a stranger, to be a reminder that I am not alone.

I'd like to believe that all of these were not by chance.

1 Corinthians 15:55 - "O Death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?"

Just last week, as I was on the train with Joel, I had a particular discussion with him - it pertained to faith, and if one could truly be sure of our eternal security, or even the existence of God for that matter.

What would happen to us when we pass on? Do we return to ashes and nothing more? Do we enter an eternal realm of bliss? Or do we pass into eternal torment because all that we had lived for wasn't true - these were all questions that often occurred in my head, even as I profess to believing in God.

Kierkegaard coined the notion of leaping to faith, where the act of faith is born out of faith.

Personally, I do not believe that one can be fully convinced when it comes to religion - we do live in a fallen world. I will never be fully certain about the truth of God - it is simply a fact that this life is one defined by uncertainty (rather ironically of course). Yet it is truly remarkable that in every aspect of our lives, suggestions of His existence and grace are plentiful - should we choose to interpret them as such.

Reading the Daily Bread (October 15) sometime this week, I came across an interesting perspective on a familiar verse (Psalm 23). It hovered on how death was merely a transitory period into the afterlife, and suggested that the "darkest valley" of that psalm be viewed as so. I've always thought of that as merely a metaphor for the trials and pains of life, not the final frontier.

And sometime this week, Newsweek published an excerpt from a book published by a neurosurgeon entitled Proof of Heaven: A Doctor's Experience with the Afterlife. While it was replete with seemingly cliched images of the afterlife (think fluffy clouds, gleaming crystal etc.), I'd like to think that it was placed in an issue of Newsweek that I had access to for a reason.

I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!

An old woman's recollection of romance under the Japanese occupation of Singapore causes her young interviewer to re-evaluate life, memory and history.

Widespread death, loss and destruction are unimaginable but ingrained concepts evoked through the collective memory of Singaporeans at the mention of the word Occupation. Undoubtedly, this has much to do with the years of government rhetoric on the war years. Yet beyond the statistics of lives lost, of buildings reduced to rubble and national boundaries permutated lie human figures, and their human stories - tales that involve more intimate emotions, tears, flesh and all.

Jo Kukathas powerfully portrays a pantheon of characters, whom through their various experiences and/or opinions on the Japanese war years, explore themes that transcend time - love, family, class and religion, to name just a few.

Beautifully set in a minimal stage, where crystalline Philippe Starck chairs serve as metaphorical reminders of the many acquaintances we meet in our life experiences, Ms Kukathas shines.

And that is what makes Occupation so beautifully executed.

These thoughts were penned on the 24th of September

I am in purgatory,
I am in an abyss,
I am Job.

I am the only one trapped here. Alone.

Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani

It is difficult to respond as Job does. As Psalm 22 depicts David.

1 Corinthians 3:3 - "For since there is jealousy. among you, are you not worldly? Are you not acting like mere humans?"

I must try.

These thoughts were penned on the 17th of September

Every day that I am here, I am not mellowing.

No. Rather, I am increasingly reviled and disgusted by the behavior that some choose to exhibit. Sheer blatant flippancy, crude mannerisms, vulgar speech and gestures (simply for the sake of it - not for the sake of expressing oneself), complete senselessness, indifference and ignorance, bigotry and more (did I mention the objectification of women - this I suspect has much to do with a high-testosterone environment).

Judge not, Sean, for we are all fallen beings.

I too am a fallen being.

It is easy to hinge the label such behavior as the outcome of circumstances that surround an individual. But can we not, but are we not supposed to rise above those?

Sigh.

I've finally passed my IPPT. After 8 months.

Just yesterday, as I was wandering the malls along Orchard Road with a few friends, a thought that frequently recurs in my mind hit me again; I thought to myself:

How can I justify paying for something that I want when it is exorbitant in price, even if it were extraordinarily well made, even if I could afford it, when that same amount of money could go a long way in improving the life of someone else.

That someone needn't be in some far flung place like a village in China, or a war orphan from Somalia. That individual could be separated by just 6 degrees from us.

It isn't exactly the same as what this video discusses, but it does skirt similar concerns.

The world is a gravely inequitable place to be in. There is no doubt about that, but I suppose we all have to try our very best to make it a tad bit better, regardless of the extent of our success at doing so. It is particularly interesting (as Leslie T. Chang notes in her video) how these Chinese workers "choose to leave their homes in order to earn money, to learn new skills and to see the world."

It speaks to a very fundamental need - to improve oneself.

I guess, everyone seeks to better and maximize the experiences that one could possibly get out of life. But honestly, what is a pair of sneaker in the grand scheme of things, what is the true worth of all that we are fighting to attain - are they not merely a transient objects, that offer temporal pleasure, whose surfaces are subject to the same forces of decay and destruction that threaten every other material item?

Have I won Monopoly to forfeit my soul?

Aren't we meant for so much more?

As a counterpoint to the views expressed above - the decadence of.

This happened on the 13th of September

I got robbed again - it could have been anytime between last night (after returning from home) to this evening (7pm+); I discovered my loss as I was about to pay for something at the mess. I'm terribly vexed, not so much because I had just lost my money (around $28), but because this someone had the audacity to steal from me at least twice! Is there not any form of moral code in him?!

An excerpt from my diary

And because of that, I've changed my lock.

Psalm 103:1-4 - "Praise the Lord, my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. and forget not all his benefits- who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion"

Last weekend's service preached on God being our [source of] peace - Jehovah Shalom. It is one that manifests itself in known and unknown ways. It tends to be an internal one, but can manifest itself in bold and surprising ways. It's interesting how Shalom in its own right is a greeting, Hebrew for "God be with you" - I suppose the presence of God and His intervention is paramount for peace.

I cannot say that I am truly at peace with where I am, but that is because I am looking at it from the very human perspective - finding equilibrium, or being in control. Yet I was calm this week, because circumstances played out, blessing after blessing. It was a good week, I won't deny that.

03.09.12 As off-kilter as the subsequent portion may seem here, I feel that I really want to catalogue/chronicle as much of my thoughts as possible on this blog, even if they may seem incoherent collectively - such are the rambles and musings that I pour into my Muji diary when I am in camp.

Sleep in camp has been particularly odd last night, as was the nap in the morning. At hearing my alarm in the morning, I simply couldn't figure out what that noise was - such a feeling was surreal, otherworldly. I suppose I was still in my dreamscapes. Then came the oddity of a nap sometime in the morning - I guess I was in a partially awake state, or perhaps in a moment of delirium; I started to get panicky, worrying about where I had placed my glasses. Yet I was still in my bed, unable to search around (or perhaps I did, in a state of sleep-walking/moving). Only later did the realization hit me that it was on the bed's headboard, where I always leave it when I lie down.

Madness is prevalent in my camp, but then again, what is normalcy when one's state of rationality and level-headedness isn't part of the status quo. Every day, people shout for no reason, yelling things with all the air in their lungs, when simply speaking it out with a normal tone would suffice. Daily, conflicts arise for highly silly reasons, especially over pride-related issues. But lunacy on a level that I witnessed on Monday afternoon was unprecedented - many people do try to escape outfield moments, but it was the first time I had witnessed anyone resorting to self-injury to do so. I shall cease to discuss this any further, except by saying that he needs help - lest it spirals into something far more detrimental.

04.09.12 - 05.09.12 The actual outfield experience this time around was quite relaxed - that I must admit. Such was the case because we weren't actually on any form of military exercise, rather, we were offering another unit (let's call them Five) support services - we were the enemies that they were to attack. All of us were issued with a little laser-emitting gadget that was supposed to track how we fire at others (and how they were wounded or killed) and vice versa. My unit didn't work, so there wasn't any incentive for me to actually shoot any blank rounds - I couldn't be "killed", nor could I "kill" any of those people charging at me, so I was as good as a spectator. That lightened one burden for me - having to expend many rounds, and consequently having to clean my rifle particularly thoroughly.

I got a chance to catch up on some snooze in the night as well, just prior to the morning attack that the Five were supposed to execute, because they came late - at least an hour or so. Coupled with my defective electronic laser unit, I didn't really need to put up a fight.

The next day featured a different terrain - this time around, we weren't in a forested area, but rather, an urban setting. By the grace of God, I got selected to be stationed inside an SUV - we were to patrol the area for Five troops, and fire at them. In the end, because of how things played out (it was remarkably difficult to communicate with others when one was roaming around in an SUV - the communication equipment were really lousy), we ended up doing more waiting than actually moving around - which was a good thing, it involved sitting down inside a vehicle. Nothing more.

06.09.12 - 07.09.12

Joshua 23:8 - "But you are to hold fast to the Lord your God, as you have until now."

Theft cases occur rather often in my camp, but I think have been spared, until now. I didn't lose much, simply because I didn't bring much cash to camp, but just the notion that someone around me would steal is rather vexing. I suspect I had forgotten to lock my cupboard - that is my own misdoing, but that doesn't give that individual an excuse to help himself to the contents of my wallet.

I take back the statement that I have been spared thus far - there was another incident where my wallet was found to be completely empty; back then, I had suspected that I had forgotten to bring cash into camp.

I must be more cautious. There's a kleptomaniac in camp, no there isn't. There's probably someone who needs money to indulge in cigarettes, and conveniently helps himself to others'. But I'm being harsh here - such a statement implicates almost everyone in my camp as a suspect, and that most definitely isn't the case. Justice and vengeance is the Lord's, and I must hold on to that fact, and be more careful.

We booked out by 5pm on Thursday, as there was a platoon barbeque at a sergeant's place the following day - that proved a slightly awkward few hours, if anything. I suppose I just have a hard time bonding with most of my platoon mates - we are so very different. But it was most definitely interesting to see them outside of camp, and to see a different (non-military) side to them.

I was still quite hungry after leaving the barbeque, so I suggested to CL to join me for dinner deux at Fei Fei - it was my first time trying it after hearing so much about it from Joel during my JC years. It wasn't bad, though not as good as Foong Kee in Chinatown.

09.09.12 I decided to give the Sunday service a miss this weekend because of the Army Half Marathon (AHM) that we were required to attend - thankfully, we were participating in the 5km version of it, instead of the longer distance races. It was an early morning - I woke up at 5am, even earlier than I would in camp, and all that was in my mind was to get it over and done with. I wasn't the only one with such a desire - I suspect most of the NSFs there felt the same, especially since most (myself included) would get a day off on Monday in return for our participation. I suppose that's a good deal. It was really messy there, the place was chock full of people, and needless to say, the initial idea of 'running as a platoon/company' proved unfeasible - that allowed me to walk a large bulk of the route (and allowed me to avoid sweating much). Plus the weather was good, and there were many interesting sights to behold (such as the vast openness of the undeveloped portions of Marina Bay, or some historic buildings here and there - I'm such an architecture geek).

It wasn't long before it was over (far earlier than I had expected, might I add), and CL and I headed to the Asian Civilisation Museum to freshen up. YL wouldn't join us - he was too keen on dashing home to reclaim his weekend duty as a keyboard warrior. That aside, it was great to escape from the crowd - who'd ever think of using the loos at a museum: no one my age would (well, barely anyone if I were to get into the technicalities of things). And then came a short but good breakfast at Blackbird Cafe - a basket of bread, a pot of Darjeeling and most importantly, good company and a cosy environment. It was a good morning, without doubt. CL left soon after the meal, and I wandered off into the Peranakan museum - I'm also a culture geek. I really love the Armenian Street area; it's so quaint and historic. And then there was lunch at Saveur with the folks afterwards.

It was a good day. It was a peaceful day.

It was a good week. It was a peaceful week.

It will be a good week - I hope.

It has been quite some time since I last blogged about anything, much less about my army life; I suppose things have either been too busy (i.e. a short weekend, activities etc.) or that I have been rather lazy - it does take quite a bit of effort (not to mention time - a very precious commodity) to pour out my thoughts and rambles.

In the past month or so, quite a bit has happened; moods have rose and fell, faith has surged and waned, my body has been rejuvenated and worn down. Its cyclical and unceasing, much like the ebbing of sea currents. And since it would take far too much (unnecessary) effort to actually reflect on the many mundane moments of that period, I'll just stick with the highlights.

9TH AUGUST - SINGAPORE'S NATIONAL DAY For quite a few weekends prior to that day, we've been stationed at the Marina Bay area on Saturdays to do some form of crowd management for the NDP rehearsals. This day was the final one, the one that would put an end to the few weeks of Monday night book-ins that we've been having. Everything went smoothly, not unlike how it was with the previous weeks. Everything went smoothly, except for one thing - my allergic reaction, which I had briefly mentioned some time ago. It was the cause for a miserable evening, and a terrible way to spend (or rather, the inability to spend) the few off-duty days that we had received. The consolation however was that the allergic reaction gave me a reason to get two more days of MC (I wasn't fully well by Tuesday), and so, that gave me a really short week in camp. One and a half days to be precise, and those days were really restful as well - especially since there was a Hari Raya celebration in camp.

MY RAISON D'ETRE - I'd type it in proper French if the blogging software I used would simply stop messing up foreign characters when it published things. I don't exactly remember the moment that I suddenly had a bout of an existential doubt, but I do know it came about when I was contemplating my interests, my distaste for the army, and how life will play out - we fight to work, to survive, and then to die. I truly want to lead a meaningful and enriching life, but if it were all to cease so abruptly and insidiously, then what was the point of anything at all? I suppose Dr. Frankl's notion that one must have the will to meaning is extremely true - life hinges on its purpose. Hence the aptness of a verse that I found the next day:

Psalm 119:116-117 - Sustain me, my God, according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hopes be dashed. Uphold me, and I will be delivered; I will always have regard for your decrees.

DISCOVERY Sometime in the month, I found out that Ansen got a new post in the armskote of his unit - it is good news, and I am happy for him; life will be so much better, as opposed to him having to be on 7 days of continuous guard duty. And it was made possible through the people that God had placed in his camp, things played out nicely (over time, in a really unexpected manner). And it was through this moment that he saw the grace and love of God; that is something worth rejoicing about. Yet it was also a bittersweet moment for me. Out of my close group of friends, I was the only one still trapped. It was terrible and selfish for me to feel this way - I hate myself for that. But I really want to be doing something less taxing, both physically and emotionally.

OUTFIELD BEGINS I hate being out in the field. It's dirty, bug-infested (those that creep around creepily and those that annoyingly bite), but above all (or perhaps, as a result of those), it is the severe loss of personal comfort that I cannot stand at all. And there were two in the week that just passed, not to mention that there will be more ahead in the coming weeks.

The first one was the platoon live shoot (on a Monday), and it was supposed to have been a really easy day for me. With the exception of bashing through some bits of vegetation, all I had to do was wait till it was over, without even firing a single shot. That was what I thought was in store for me, that was indeed supposed to have been the case for me, until members of my platoon started falling out, be it via simply not turning up to camp the night before, or by taking MCs. It is indeed a problem that plagues my camp (and I am sure, other camps for that matter). I ended up being a replacement for one missing guy. That wasn't so bad, I consoled myself. And it was true, until the weather started getting torrential. It was far from what I wanted - prior experience had taught me that. I did not want to end up being in pools of mud, but honestly, I would rather do that than to have the activity postponed to what would most probably be on a weekend. The rain finally ceased at around 2pm - just in time for us to start with the blank shoot (every live shoot must be preceded by a blank practice - while it's tiresome, it's a safety practice that I agree with). After trekking through vegetation for slightly over a kilometre, we were about to commence with the shoot, and then it rained again. Heavily - that resulted in the shoot being cancelled yet again, except this time, we were soaked in the process. Everything else in the day went relatively smoothly, except for the lingering discomfort of being wet (not only were the clothes on our backs soaked, so were our feet - they were swimming in water-logged boots). It goes without saying that the rain caused the grounds to get muddy - and we were muddied, but that was not as grave an annoyance and discomfort as the state of wetness that we were in. We were cold and wet - and by a certain point, hungry, all the makings of being miserable. I was just thankful that the day was over. And one more thing: I had left my blank attachment (it is a small metal contraption added to the rifle to allow it to fire blank rounds) not far from the place where we departed - that freaked me out ridiculously. I didn't want to get into any trouble for losing a weapon part, and I was insanely upset with myself for being so careless. Long story short, it was found (rather easily might I add), and I was not punished - it is the grace of God that I have to thank for that. I suppose that was the only good thing that came out of the day, apart from being spared any lightning strikes and being shot by rounds.

The next one was a platoon outfield exercise. This one was marginally better than the live shoot, though it was not any less tiring. We had to dig a shell scrape (basically, a shallow trench/pit in the ground) to rest in the night before - we did in close to complete darkness, save for a torch light. It was excruciatingly frustrating to do that - not only was one battling a task that would be tiring on its own, it was made more difficult by the darkness, and in addition, the heat rashes that I had developed as a result of Monday's activity. All I can say is that I was amazed that God had brought me through the whole entire night - it felt like eternity when I was digging that hole. We were supposed to stay awake at some point in the night to guard the place, but I fell asleep during my shift, and I must say, it was truly necessary - the next day's activity would be immensely tiring. We were to attack enemies (rather ironically, these were played by some those who tried to weasel their way out of attending this outfield exercise by getting a MC) who dotted a very long and steep incline, but not before an insanely arduous trek through vegetation - that lasted over 4 hours. It was supposed to be around 4 kilometres, but it felt far longer, and I am sure that it was, given the detours that were made here and there. And just when that was over, we had yet another mission to complete - to attack another enemy hideout. It was supposedly near to where we ended the previous attack, but that walk took another 2 hours.

Truly, I say, outfield is ridiculously silly. And tiring.

And that is all that I have to say.

I musn't borrow other's skincare products

Having extremely sensitive skin is a grave curse, especially when the most sensitive part lies on the face. Just a few days ago, my face flared up again - this time because of some sunscreen that I had borrowed, in a bid to protect myself against the intense sunshine that characterised the 9th of August (yes, I was on duty that day, doing crowd control for NDP).

This wasn't the first time that my skin had flared up because of a product.

The earliest instance I can remember was in 2004 when I was in Shanghai. The cold cracked my skin, and the polluted air didn't make it any better. My lips swelled, though in a somewhat restrained manner.

Then there was the start of JC; it was just after the council selection camps, and I had just purchased a new face wash (Loreal - it just doesn't work for me) that I thought could serve as a perfect replacement for one of the 2 that I use (Nivea). I was wrong. Within a few washes, the skin on my face cracked, rather scarily might I add, and peeled quite dramatically.

The worst incident however would be what happened in Hong Kong in 2010. It was winter (seriously, I have a problem with dry weather), and I suspect that the lipbalm I was using was contaminated (what was worse was that it was purchased from the airport). Instead of sealing the cracks on my lips, it infected those small open wounds, leaving my face in a really sorry state - little bubbles of pus began to form and pop. Then the peeling came (it was terrible - brown flakes fell off) before everything finally faded away. I can vouch that it was the lipbalm - at the start of 2011, I had decided to try it again (albeit briefly, but it was in school), and my lips swelled. Definitely an unpleasant experience that marred my trip completely (I refused to go out much).

And now, since the 9th of August, I've been pretty much stuck at home. My lips are once more peeling, as is the skin around it. It isn't merely because of a sunburn, it is because of a photosensitive allergy. That ruined my weekend plans. Really, it did.

What's worse, it continues to peel. But that's a sign that its healing. Though its still really dry and cracked.

Sometime ago, I had raised this question: Was it wrong to envy others for the blessings that they had received, and it was in this verse that I found the answer:

Hebrews 13:5 - "Let your conduct be without covetousness; be content with such things as you have. For He Himself has said, "I will never leave you nor forsake you."

I suppose that only validated what I had already known in my heart for the longest time, that God will provide what is best for an individual, not merely what one wants.

25.07.12 Returning to camp after a (relatively) long break was definitely not the most pleasant of experiences; just a week or so ago, a friend of mine endured this, and this week, it was my turn to do so. Yet there was something to be grateful about - the way that things fell into place definitely helped ease the blues. First, it was a short week (that was something that we all told ourselves), and second, we booked not into camp, but in the Marina Bay area - there was some packing up to do following our NDP duties on Saturday. Of course, we wouldn't be spending the entire week in the city - the bus for camp was scheduled to arrive at 12pm, but it was still great that there was a bit of time to relax before returning to the full extent of camp life. We had managed to pack up the metal barricades in under an hour, so that gave us slightly more than 2 hours to unwind - time for tea at Starbucks, and lunch at The Soup Spoon.

I had hoped that when we returned to camp, that the remaining time (i.e. the afternoon and evening) would be allocated for rest - wishful thinking of course. Instead, there was some IPPT training for me (I can't complain about this, passing the IPPT is considered to be an important thing in the army, and plus, it wasn't as taxing as the session from the week before), and later on, the first bit of battle obstacle course (BOC) training. For the latter, what materialised as BOC training was a 1.6km run in boots - I suppose it was to gradually condition our bodies for the full extent of the BOC.

26.07.12 One of the spoils that I enjoy at home is sleeping in an air-conditioned room, and I must admit, that after close to a week of that, it was difficult to get a good night's rest back in camp. Or perhaps it was simply an excruciatingly warm night. I would prefer to think it was the latter.

In a nap that I had just after breakfast, I had one of the strangest (and rather scary) dream that I have ever had; my dream was set inside a mall, and it featured people chasing after me trying to shave my head bald, trap me, and if my memory serves me correctly, poke me with something sharp. Perhaps it was a byproduct of reading about the Holocaust through Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning, perhaps it was my subconscious fears manifesting themselves (the latter does sound really plausible).

The day started properly with a 1km fast march - the distance wasn't the issue, the ache in my shin that arose from it was. Another difficulty was in keeping up, primarily because I simply do not take large strides when I walk. At that point in time, I had no idea that it was a component of the BOC.

There was really nothing much for the day up till after 4pm in the day, when we did one run-through of the obstacles in the BOC. I suppose I should be glad it played out this way - during the few hours when there was nothing, I was napping (a good and much needed compensation for the poor sleep). The obstacles themselves were not any different from what we did during our Skill & Arms test (just prior to the end of AIT) - it was at that point that I realised the BOC test would be almost exactly like the Skill & Arms one.

Throughout the whole day, we were fed with the idea that a nights out was a possibility, personally I was rather resistant to that notion - I didn't want to be disappointed like the many instances in the past (especially when the week was short, there would usually cease to be a nights out). But I was wrong this time around. Rather cruelly however, the nights out this time around was extremely short - it began sometime after 8pm, and lasted till 9.45pm. Clearly, it was a waste of my effort to try to leave camp with such a short time frame, so I did not bother to even entertain the notion of it. Instead, I spent the time reading - I don't regret it, and it was actually rather relaxing to do that.

27.07.12

Psalm 55:22 - "Cast your burden on the Lord, And He shall sustain you; He shall never permit the righteous to be moved."

I had hoped that this day would be a short one, and it was indeed. Friday prayers (for the Muslims) meant that all of the day's activities would be confined to the morning, and since they were leaving before lunch, there would be no reason for the remaining people to stay past lunch.

Hope is powerful, but its potency is increased exponentially when one places that in the Lord's grace.

We did our first full run of the BOC, including the 1km fast march prior to the obstacles, and a 300m 'casualty lift' (i.e. lifting 60kg of weight on a stretcher for that distance) after. No doubt it was tiring, but we managed to complete it within the required time - that is somewhat of an assurance that we can (and by extension, I can) pass it during the actual test sometime this coming week.

Hope. That's just what I need.

On a side note, I'm starting to feel the burden of being obliged (by myself of course) to pen down my camp life here; I don't want to become a prisoner to my own deluded desires.

On another note, I am aware that I've the title of this post is the same as a sitcom (which I love).

I'm still halfway through season one, and all I can say is that I am hooked!