The passing of time is truly a surreal thing; just three weeks ago, I was battling my doubts and fears about my impending enlistment (and how I would survive that arduous period of confinement), and right now, I am penning my thoughts and emotions, retrospectively of course, that I experienced during that particular period in the comfort of my own home. That's not to say that those three weeks felt like a breeze - on the contrary, they felt long-drawn-out and quite simply put, they felt like forever, but then again, the truth is that putting it that way is hyperbolic, and by the grace of God, I survived the pains of confinement. It feels absolutely surreal to be home now, and yet know that in under 48 hours, I will be returning to a week's worth of entrapment (pardon the negativity).

The subsequent parts of this post summarises the feelings that I endured during each of the respective weeks that I spent in BMTC, and they would not be possible without the help of my diary - I must say, penning down my thoughts is probably (to a certain extent) how I maintained my sanity during that long period, and it is for that very reason that I intend to continue maintaining my journal. Pardon the innumerable switches in tense below - coherence and uniformity isn't quite my aim (or care) at this point in time.

WEEK 0 (31 JAN - 5 FEB) Just about anyone would have at least some trouble adjusting to military life - and for me, the sudden introduction of regimentation, rigid discipline and abrupt loss of many individual freedoms was to say the least, particularly difficult to adapt to. The first week was especially painful for me, that I won't deny. I am by nature quite a control-freak, and I've been particularly sheltered as an only child. The sense of pessimism was not made any better by the fact that being in the military was not exactly my cup of tea or idea of fun. It was also hardly a laughing matter for me to see commercial planes fly overhead every half hour or so - it was a cruel reminder of my state of entrapment, as opposed to the freedom that flying had come to represent. It was the first time that meals, short as they may be (in the army, that is) became times of respite and rest from the strictness of regimentation and military life. With that being said, I really have to thank God for giving me the opportunity to learn to eat a wider array of vegetables beyond broccoli. And on the point on respites, I must say that being in Tekong has allowed me to truly enjoy the night sky, with the glory of its stars and all - the same stars that God spoke to Abraham about. The first week was also when I realised that I was even less prepared for the army, physically speaking that is, than I had thought - all of this was revealed through my inability to do proper SAF pull-ups, and more significantly, my IPPT results. To quote my diary entry, I described it as being "indeed an issue [to pass]". Despite the buckets worth of sweat that was forced out of my scrawny body during the many different types of physical training, the following verses offered me some guidance:

1 Corinthians 10:31 - "Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." 2 Corinthians 5:7 - "For we walk [and stretching the meaning of the word, run] by faith, not by sight."

Which is why I will sum up my thoughts for the first week (or rather, week zero in the eyes of the SAF) as being "an opportunity to grow physically, mentally and spiritually" (again I am quoting my diary entry), one where difficulty no doubt existed at every corner, but likewise, it was a chance for God to prove His faithfulness at each of those moments. On a side note, Tekong, despite being a mere degree warmer than the mainland, feels like a sauna in comparison, and the sun can be brutally harsh. I know this from the sunburns that plagued my head, neck and shoulders the first week. Needless to say, it itched like crazy, and without a doubt, I am at this point in time significantly darker than I was before entering the island.

WEEK 1 (6 FEB- 12 FEB) As it was in the first week (which unfortunately was deemed by the SAF as not being a week), there is hardly a moment in a day on Tekong where the sun isn't (pardon the clich�d phrase) beating down on me. The start of the week also heralded the first time I wore a "Smart [number] 4", which is a graduated step above the silly pajamas like excuse of a uniform that is called the number 4 - one that seemingly traps heat relentlessly. That being said, I can't exactly complain, as those in the May army intake would probably endure less forgiving temperatures.

I must add that my second week in BMTC made me realise that I had it quite good, relative to those in other companies. I discovered the (general) niceness and reasonability of my sergeants and commanders, especially when I compare them to those at a company called Kestral. Things there were apparently so bad that one poor fella was driven to attempt suicide, at least that's what hearsay and Twitter informed me about. The second week was also the week where the army's atmosphere of "high testosterone, chauvinism, immaturity and perceived sense of manhood" revealed itself fully through the blatant use of cussing, misogynistic remarks and general level of gungho-ness. Such traits manifest itself in arguably all aspects of military life - including some army songs that in my opinion prove particularly demeaning and objectifying to women. But perhaps I'm being a little too unforgiving and petty - such traits exist in many other environments elsewhere.

I would like to think that I'm a fairly rational person - and I accept the (relatively rare) instances that we were 'tekan-ed' in the second week as reasonable (albeit light in the eyes of the SAF and relative to other companies) and justified for issues like punctuality and all.

It was also at the second week that the I felt extremely raw and vulnerable - I was missing home and family, PT was tiring, I was not near the physical standard required of me. the list goes on. The planes bothered me even more than ever, but at the very least, I was sleeping better. The other little respite of the second week was probably the 4km road march, or 4 click in army terms - it was a chance to see the island outside of the concrete shell that is BMTC School. Perhaps another little respite would be the chance to cool off in the camp's pool - though I mustn't fail to note that the pool water was atrociously disgusting; the "lovely broth" was probably a concoction of the sweat of thousands of NS men. It was also the week that we had inoculations - I have a tremendous fear of needles, but by the grace of God, it was almost entirely painless, much to my surprise. I suppose the other little respite that we got during training (with the PT instructors) was a group clap at the end - I really appreciate that, it makes you feel like you've done something commendable and worthwhile.

Just a minor rant here - but in general, the army's ability to present itself, both verbally and visually in its visual material is quite severely lacking. Their slideshows are ugly and amateurish, the presenters generally do not articulate and enunciate well (to be honest, this isn't entirely their fault, rather, its an issue that lies within many Singaporeans). The sole exception that I witnessed was the presenter from the Air Force, but then again, he was an SAF scholar.

Given that what I term as "admin week" was over, schedules became particularly tight, while the efficiency (pardon me, efficiency) of the SAF remained at its same bottom. To quote a (really nice) sergeant, "we rush to wait, and wait to rush" - it is exactly because of this that meal-times were sometimes unrealistically short, only to be followed by an hour long waiting period, or the near lack of time to shower. The latter complaint probably makes me sound particularly weak, but I maintain that personal hygiene is an important aspect of one's civility - something that I want to maintain.

James 1:22 - "But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves."

This is a verse that I try hard, especially in the army, to live by. It is difficult, especially when I disagree with quite a fair bit of the army's premise, but I do also believe that God has placed me in my particular place for a purpose.

WEEK 2 (13 FEB- 17 FEB) To be honest, at this point in time (not in reference to the week but the point at which I am typing this post), I'm getting particularly lazy, so this last chunk will be extremely condensed; an intensely abridged version of my diary entries.

This week marked the first time for quite a few things - 1. donning on my ILBV (essentially, a vest that is terribly suffocating and poorly made (by the contracted Chinese factory), 2. applying camouflage cream, 3. crawling in soil. I definitely have to add that this week, while generally less physically demanding as compared to the prior week, felt quite a lot tougher - perhaps because book-out was so close, yet seemed so far.

Yet through it all, by the grace of God, I pulled through. Its however no doubt just the beginning, and I will have to continue to trust in Him and seek His guidance and strength - the same goes to the strength that I draw from parental support. I truly love them, and I can't wait to see them again at the subsequent book-out (1 week away).

Without any choice, or desire, I must bid this blog adieu for the time being, as with my civilian life. I'll be enlisting into the army tomorrow, at 11.45am, and what lies ahead remains a blur to me. I most certainly hope that things will be fine, and I do trust the Lord to ensure that, but it is only human to have doubts and fears.

Image Credit: ArchDaily & Roland Halbe

I love how the modern structure recreates (albeit in an unpretentious or artificial way by the means of erecting roman-style ruins) the space that would surround a typical Roman temple in its heyday. The concrete compliments the ancient Roman marble work quite nicely, and the entire structure doesn't detract from the ruin's impressiveness; rather it emphasises and arguably exaggerates it through its starkness.

The only thing I don't quite dig is how heavy the modern addition looks. it feels stumpy. Perhaps if they had used columns to parallel that of the Roman temple. though then again visually that'll feel so much busier. Oh well.

I've been toying with this idea for some time since last September; perhaps this served as some form of de-stressing for me during the A-Levels prep time.

Called Grid, the table's name really speaks a lot about its physical form. The table's grid supports serve not only to create visual interest, but function as supports for glass shelves, which can be added or removed as per the user's need - in a sense, the table is modular in it's function.

Gosh it's hard to describe something that you design/create without sounding superfluous.

Anyway, the geometric beauty of a lamp that sits on the low version of Grid is the Atollo lamp, designed by Vico Magistretti, while the chair, an icon of Parisian cafes for over to a century is the 214 chair by Michael Thonet, both of which I think are truly great pieces of design.

Image Credit: GQ.com, Yannis Vlamos

Burberry has been doing the same ethnic-inspired for about 2 seasons plus so far, and I won't say that it looks particularly fresh, but its hard to say that they have failed to impress - in particular, the showmanship (I mean, who could forget the actual rainfall that was created for the S/S 12 show) and wearability of the featured looks is simply remarkable.

Far too often, He gets sidelined in the crazy and often almost relentless pursuit for earthly fulfillment. I don't deny it, I treat God in such a manner too often to count (don't we all). Yet he still reaches out to us, in a manner that parallels our innate instinct to live on our own accord. That's truly amazes me, and for the lack of a better word, stupefies me.

Just the other day, on the way home after shopping (a particularly self-indulgent thing, I know), an old lady said "??,???" - she was referring to a pinkish sheet of paper that she prodded at my hands. At that particular point, she was to me merely a pamphlet distributor - a tired one at that. So I took it, while thoughts of my subsequent actions played out in my head: take a brief glance, fold it up, tear it up and toss it in the trash.

A brief glance was all that was necessary to know that God works in strange ways.

"Read your Bible" was the first thing that caught my eye - and guilt  filled my heart. It's interesting how God doesn't condemn those willing to be saved (along with their sins), but the realisation of not doing what that is in God's will that creates this sense of damnation.

But I digress from my main point.

The Lord is my shepherd; I have all that I need. He lets me rest in green meadows; he leads me beside peaceful streams. He restores my soul. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name. Even when I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for You are close beside me. Your rod and Your staff protect and comfort me. You prepare a feast for me in the presence of my enemies. You honor me by anointing my head with oil. My cup overflows with blessings. Surely your goodness and love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever.

Psalms 23

The message was timely - emphasised undoubtedly by the selective bolding of portions of Psalms 23. I never did manage well with change and uncertainty - yes I revel in a state of stasis and the present, much like how Sylvia as well as Lucille in Housekeeping were. Very much like how these women were portrayed, routines and conventions, rigid as they may occasionally be, truly give me comfort. I am far more at ease in conversations with adults simply because of the necessity of etiquette and politeness - you know they won't be too forward about any potential criticism that would hurt because of the need to remain dignified and restrained, just as social protocol dictates. Heck, even my overwhelming desire for control over nitty-gritty details of things is a manifestation of a deep seated insecurity. But life isn't predictable. It isn't controllable. It is in perpetual flux and change - God never did promise a life of perfect serenity on this earth or realm. But he did promise comfort, his goodness and his mercy.

How apt. Seeing such a message as a new chapter of my life looms ever closer - one that I fear. Yes I'm delicate, yes I am frail, and I have no idea how the army will be like. It's not something that I will have a significant (if any at all) control over. Likewise, the impulse to steer away from God's ways, much as my heart knows is wrong, is something that is exceedingly difficult to avoid. Yet what have I to fear but the Lord - a notion that was further reinforced by the subsequent verse that appeared on this pink sheet of paper handed to me by that old lady.

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, but fools despise knowledge and discipline.

Proverbs 1:7

So Lord, you know my thoughts better than I do; you know my fears and hopes better than I. Guide me and give me grace, help me live for you, and help me to trust in your unfailing protection - instill this fear in me, that I may seek you daily, not occasionally, not at the reminder of YouVersion, but from the desires of my heart. Amen.

Image Credit: ArchDaily

Its interesting how brushes with nature forms such an important facet of the human experience - to the point where man builds in a manner that logic and pragmatism would deem absurd (see picture 3). Regardless, this home in Tokyo is truly remarkable in it's ability to allow its inhabitants to live among the trees; savour the sounds and sights of nature and yet be within the convenience of a city. I suppose it's a little like living beside Central Park, or in a more local context, along Nassim Hill.

I'm just a wee bit (albeit pleasantly) surprised to see that this house was in Tokyo. I can't picture such lush vegetation in a city that cosmopolitan and developed.

Gosh I would love to live beside a park.

Image Credit: GQ.com

Incredibly nonchalant; as GQ puts it, "[French] without the attitude"

Image Credit: The Architect's Newspaper

I can't help but agree with the words of the article that came with the above photos, that this building by Gordon Bunshaft is a "masterpiece of Modernism". It ticked all the right boxes - a lofty, but pragmatic volume, a great deal of transparency, the art of the defining mid-century master Bertoia, and last but perhaps most significant, it's almost comically large safe that faced the street elevation. I mean, it was not only one of the most perfect exercises of modernism, this building is also a perfect publicity exercise - suggesting both transparency and impenetrability, both of which are excellent traits for a bank.

Its a pity that it's present state is a far cry from its sleek heyday.

Oh God, this will most definitely be a year of uncertainty, trials and change.

Help me.