two things:

1. flea knows how to make me laugh. and she knows just as well how to laugh at herself. and for that, she stands tall amongst my friends.

2. kop pride has been restored today. 3 to the good at the merseyside derby and it appears that liverpool's recovery in the near future is a distinct possibility. and that lad 'arry has taken his first steps towards liverpudlian greatness. what a time to score your debut goal. more joy to come from liverpool, i hope.

when i enlisted for the army, they took away my pink ic.. and my social life.

--

interview with lime was great. really interesting, fun and thought-provoking. the interviewer, karen, asked some really tough questions. and she did her research! it was a very welcome experience. she quoted some of my stuff and asked me to explain some of my poetry. she even took a stab at interpreting one my poems. flea would be happy to know that she chose 'flight of the pixie queen', though she didn't interpret it the same way i meant it. was an good interpretation though. that the guy had lost his girlfriend because he'd taken her feelings for granted. had lotsa fun with the 3 nkf staffers too. they're a fun lot and very quirky. they complement one another really well.

grab the november issue of lime, alright? =)

i'm looking forward to more interviews! 8 days and today are coming up soon, i hope.

i find it terribly ironic that many of the liberal arts colleges in us (the ones that give their students so much breadth til' they see something they want in depth) have it as an important criteria that prospective students should have sustained participation and achievement in one or two academic and extracurricular activities (rather than several different ones), during their high school years.

--

oh, and we have too many economists and too little economy. i think.

7. for petrina

imagery. hence the absence of my preferred rhyming format. it's just an example of how only 72 words can create a living, breathing world. and who doesn't like the smell of freshly-baked bread?

8. an ode to examinations

written just after my Os. i was thinking about what the next two years would be like, and i can safely say now that it rocked. but the exams bit of it all still sucked just as hard as before. do check out my essay on proposed changes to the education system in my blog archives.

9. faith

my search for god was a long journey in my mind. i walked and walked for weeks and years, only to find out one day that i've been searching in the wrong place. it was then that i opened my soul and eyes and let god fill me. faith is a powerful, powerful thing. let nothing in this world keep you away from god and his love.

10. gypsy prince

this is for those wonderful people we come across in life who've been hurt before by love, but who retain their sense of purpose in life. they play their violins for all to hear, a lovely, bittersweet tune that we know not how to even begin appreciating. there is much we can learn from them yet happiness is something that we cannot give them.

11. orwell

we never learn, do we?
just a pessimistic note on the present. things aren't that bad, really. save for that dubya fella.

12. the last winterson

the idea of the sun in winter is something that appealed to me for the longest time, all the way since my crestfallen website days. it's the hottest thing in the sky, yet it provides us with no warmth at all. no matter how special someone is to you, if you put them out of reach, you will feel lonely, troubled and cold by all the things around you that seemed irrelevant when that person was around before.

13. naivete

written from the point-of-view of a young man who has just broken up with his girlfriend, a french girl. she has suddenlt gone back to france, leaving their relationship without closure. he's remorseful for his one action which led to this, an action he could not have prevented nor foreseen. he wallows in self-pity till he makes up his mind not to wait for someone to pick him up, but rather, to get up by himself and move on. one meaning of the last line is that when everything around you is so bleak and miserable, something as simple as realising how much of your life you have ahead of you truly stands out and can lift your spirits greatly.



the last 3 coming soon..

--

can't wait to pick up a copy of the lord of the rings : the two towers dvd. looks really sweeet. but it'll take up an entire night for me to watch. 179 minutes of running time without counting the extras is no joke at all.

--

watched coldplay on mtv's $2 concert show. they're fantastic. and they've put a smile on my face.

--

i've got an interview and photo shoot with lime magazine this friday! hopefully my story'll make the november issue. book sales are really good. nkf hasn't started it on their side, but i've managed to rack up $3500 from 110 books. thanks to everyone who's helped and contributed! you've given the children's medical fund the money it needs to support several kids. more to come, i hope, once my book is officially launched.

--

"history is philosophy teaching by example."
- dionysus

4. flight of the pixie queen

written for a friend of mine. the pixie queen is this fantastic, magical being who i have always believed knows what love is really like and understands it like nobody else can. however, she refuses to stay still in my mind and give me the answers i so selfishly seek. only then, when i cry out to get, does she reveal my mistake: she has feelings too. and by ignoring hers, i've sealed my own fate and love's secrets are thus, forever lost to me.

5. forever

written for this girl i never got to know, eva. i only ever told a few people about this, that i had actually written about her. i used to go for parties often in j1 and i saw her once at this ac party. she looked a bit tipsy, but there was something about her that just put a squeeze on my heart. i knew it was just infatuation, but oh how sweet the feeling was. i watched her smile and laugh to herself that night. and for a while, i could ask for nothing more.

well, except maybe her phone number.

6. dramatic irony

a stab at story-telling in the world of rhyme. it's a simple tale. with a striking point. the guy thinks he can end this relationship for his own sake. he thinks he's doing her a favour by breaking it to her gently that he doesn't love her anymore. surprised is an understatement when he finds out that she had leaving him on her mind before he did. the unexpected really, really hurts. it makes you feel raw, vulnerable and in this case, really stupid.

i don't understand tv ads for other tv sets. especially when they try to demonstrate the finer picture quality of the other set by displaying "high-resolution" images. if it looks good enough on your telly to be appetising, what do you need a new one for? what the hell were they thinking? it's like when you've lost your modem installation cd. you've got a dilemma 'cause you're unable to download the drivers for your modem from the internet. problem is, you need those drivers to access the internet in the first place.

and don't get me started on those 'bling' sounds they use sparingly to make the images seem sharper.

more good news this time. permanotes has published the authoratative guide to my book so that it can now be used as teaching material in literature classes worldwide.


i wish.

--

so my job has just gotten that much more stressful. many more responsibilities, duties and orders. ah well.. i think i'd rather be busy the whole day than sitting around bored and aimless. we'll see how long i can hold out. too bad all my stuff is confidential and classified. some really interesting things happen between these walls.

--

alright.. since my earlier joke probably won't be too well-received by large members of the viewing public (especially those seated in the front few rows), i will put this up as an on-going effort of mine to make my poetry slightly more transparent and approachable by those who can't read my mind (yes, raise your hands, all of you. do it together and we might have enough momentum to throw this planet off course. whether that is a physical possibility is beyond me to remember (as of 19th august 2003) ) :

1. crack of dawn

written for a close friend of mine, it touches on parent-child relationships and the bitter feeling that it sometimes brings when reason is tossed out the window. the only way out is to just find something better, because some people don't change, no matter how hard you try.

2. outer darkness

written from the point-of-view of a young fellow struggling with love and faith, this poem takes its influences from the french language, the holy bible and the works of w.e. henley (namely, 'invictus'). initially, he is defiant and pursues his love despite the fact that the girl he likes takes him for granted. when she suddenly says that he's no match for her, he becomes forlorn and resigned. he thought he was the predator and that she was the prey, but now the roles have been reversed. the last line, 'the game was not worth the candle,' is chock-full of hidden meaning. game is a similar word to prey in the sense of hunting animals. she, the game (and the prey, as mentioned above), was not worth the effort, or ironically, the very candle that he (according to her) is unable to hold up to her.

3. for my angel

written by a man who's angry with the girl who wouldn't love him back, for being beautiful and amazing enough to make him fall in love with her in the first place. angels are often taken to be our saviours in our time of need. now that something terrible has happened to her too, he sees it as a chance at sweet revenge. thus, he rubs salt in her wounds with this poem.


more to come soon!

--

quote of the day:
"the scramble to get into college is going to be so terrible in the next few years that students are going to put up with almost anything; even an education."
- barnaby keeney, president, brown university

i agree that the 'inspiring youth' bit sounds a bit weird. not for the same reason, though. it just makes myself hard to believe, really. nobody'd ever have themselves called that unless they've done something really major, which i haven't yet.

i will continue to write whenever i can get time to. inspiration seems to be coming in from all directions nowadays. and i've got plenty of friends who put a word in here and there and make everything wonderful for everyone.

i don't plan to walk that road, denise.. i took a left onto charity drive and i'm cruising down it at 120 km per hour right now. if i could make music, i'd write songs for lil kids with cancer. (like our lady peace's 'thief' and 'life') i'd then burn those songs on a cd to sell to raise funds. it's the same end no matter what the means may be. different talents and skills, different works, same outcome. it's something i hope every teenager will try to understand and put into practice. what a change it'll make to the way they see and interact with society.

happy poetry. a happy ending. not my usual style, but it's going to be, soon. as bob dylan wailed once... "the times they are a-changin'." this is an idea i had for a poem a long time ago. i was intrigued by the idea of a matchmaker (in the sense of "one who arranges or tries to arrange marriages" and the alternative "one who makes matches for burning or kinding.") i found several key words that had interesting double-meanings and lots of interesting imagery and ideas. never had the time to really flesh it out until now. i'll go back and edit it sometime. this is the raw draft:

matchmaker.

the aged matchmaker heaves and sighs
holding on to the hope left in his life
passion once burnt in his now tame heart
age overtakes poor lovers who must part
he scratches away intently, carving sticks out
no matches, he says, could light away his doubt
he wonders if his boy will ever see brighter nights
away from pity and poverty, rich with electric lights
he pinches phosphorous onto a match's head
and puts it aside, another masterpiece completed
he looks up to see, his son dancing by the lane
playful and carefree, like a freshly-lit flame
how long will he last, his father ponders quietly,
before he burns out or worse, is put out like me?
instinctively he touches wood, and prays for his own
then laughs, for this very wood is known to burn slow
god will watch over his boy, his legacy will live on
this father illuminated the way, before he left us all
he pinches another match, and puts them all aside
blessed he is with a son who makes him feel alive
the aged matchmaker smiles as tears fill up his eye
and he thanks dear god that at least some flames never die.

--

my first press release!

had some free time in the ops room today, so i was just thinking of a few business ideas. thought of three, but i'm not gonna put them up here in case i'm ever down and out and want to try my luck in the world of entrepeneurship. just in case they happen to be really good ideas, that is. better safe than sorry, they say.

--

anyway, i was talking to maria the other day and we somehow got to talkin about my poetry. i told her that very few people had admitted that they generally had no idea what i was writing about (instead, they go for choice remarks such as "nice" and "cool.") in my book. she said that she didn't mind if she didn't understand it.. she'd just put it as being one of those things that's just me. i told her that that made me sound, to her, like a misunderstood artiste. her reply? brilliant.

no you're not misunderstood.... its just... okay let's say you're walking in a desert for days and days and you've not seen a single speck of life in 10 days. suddenly u see a beautiful blood red rose blooming out of the sand. no thorns, no leaves, nothing. okay. its captivating. but all you're gonna do is just marvel at it and leave it alone. you're not gonna go examine its petals or dig up its roots or anything right?.... so yeah... its just about the same thing.

--

i also realised, while writing some notes to some lovely lasses who're heading overseas, that alot of the things i say are meant to be heard rather than read. as virgi has told me many times before, "it's not what you say, rahul... it's the way you say it." that severely dents my hopes of ever being a humour columnist. oh well.. i guess dave gets to keep his throne after all.

my ma caught me at a bad moment while she was typing out some long document to ask me, "i want to go for a walk.. if i leave this like this will my document disappear or something?"

to which i snapped back sarcastically, "well that depends. first the computer will roll the imaginary dice of document fate. if you score a 4 and above, it will discard your document immediately. anything less and it's image will be permanently burnt into the screen for all eternity. and to answer your question... yes, it will still be there when you get back."

"usually."

now that i think about it.. seeing as how my laptop's crashed as many times as it has at crucial moments (or worse, when i least expect it, like a toilet break.. it knows when i forget to save and have typed alot since my last save.) .. well, i think there might really be an imaginary dice of document fate after all. ah well.

listening to:
eve 6 - think twice
pixies - where is my mind
new radicals - someday we'll know
phantom planet - lonely day
cake - sheep go to heaven
incubus - warning
our lady peave - 4am, thief, denied
outkast - bombs over baghdad
scapegoat wax - aisle 10
the verve - bittersweet symphony
wallflowers - heroes, one headlight
pete yorn - so much work, all at once
eagle eye cherry - save tonight
semisonic - closing time

hearing:
and it's the same sad song coming back again
the same old song, flows back again
and you don't have to live on your own
it's a lie in the end, you only satisfy your friends
and you don't heal if you won't bring it home
you don't have to settle
don't have to say you won't
you can stay
you don't have to walk alone
- so much work, pete yorn

and i cant see the thief that lives inside your head
but i can be some courage at the side of your bed
and i don't know what's happening and i can't pretend
but i can be all, be all i'm here
but i can be all, be all i'm here
it's a long, long get away
- thief, our lady peace
(written for young cancer patients)

i can remember
standing
by the wall
and the guns
shot above our heads
and we kissed
as though nothing could fall
and the shame
was on the other side
oh we can beat them
for ever and ever
then we can be heroes
just for one day
- heroes, wallflowers

i regret teaching my father to sms.

now he does it in the car while driving. and nothing makes my heart skip a beat more than him smsing while driving. he can't find a better time to start sending messages to people, really. to add to this, in the hope of being stealthy, my dad holds the phone really low beneath the steering wheel so that nobody (he thinks) will know what he's really up to.

"oh hey. that man there's staring at his left thigh while driving on the expressway. wow. what a perfectly normal day it is."

anyway, i'd understand (at the very least) if he typed blindly then glanced down once in a while to check if he'd made any typos. (remember, he's using only one hand to control the steering wheel.) however, my dad insists on staring intently at his message, sometimes not even when he's typing it out. maybe he's thinking about what to type next. ("should i put a smiley face?") then he'll glance up once in a while to check if he's still on the road.

never ceases to freak me out.

i think i'll bring it up to him the next time he's mashing buttons in the driver's seat.

california

burning rubber on tired asphalt
going down on the accelerator was nobody's fault
breathing hard in a careening car
your conscience is tamed but you brake too fast
the alcohol of liberty permeates through the air
and the wheel spins freely in the drunkeness of despair
lights swirl around and crashes sound
you find warning signs, and yet you are not found
wandering aimlessly, you're lost in this blur
of shards of glass, slivers and hunger
the shattered speedometer clocks a few hundred
and twelve hours of time tuck you soundly into bed
i wait patiently for your call
fearing the worst.. i'm afraid i've lost it all
to the distance between your tyres and the tar
i'd still never teach you how to drive your own car
abruptly, the phone rings
and i seize the receiver and the answer it brings
i hear your voice on the other end
calm again. and as you head out into the rain
you still aren't sure
yes, still a wanderer, but lost no more

digging through my old papers, i came across this.. something i wrote in 2001:

lightning cuts a jagged line across the sky
as rain pelts down as mercilessly as last night
with a resounding crash, silence is shattered
on a night like this, it never really mattered
the radio murmurs softly somewhere in my head
playing back the moments that i live to dread
your voice echoes and it's as warm as it was before
if only i could hold you; we'd be cold no more
i cannot place the feeling you create within me
it's beyond words and thoughts and mere poetry
i will never learn the mystery of your soul
because i cannot grasp what i do not hold
alone now, the bitter world mocks me
for opening my eyes and still not being able to see
that maybe you and i were never truly meant to be
to be bound not by love, but by it's sweet mystery

a river runs crooked by following the path of least resistance.

so does man.

answering phonecalls is stressful when you have no idea who's who and where anything or anyone is or is supposed to be. i need to be properly briefed.

--

it's truly sad to hear that some people believe that the primary use of religion is to network and make friends with people who can get you places. that's the last thing on my mind. i know i sound like a hippie, but i really do want to just be at peace with myself and with the spiritual world around me.

--

there is a story that when grimaldi, the famous clown, was on his triumphal tour of europe at the height of his fame in 1805, a man went to a doctor. when the doctor asked the man his problem, the man explained that he was so depressed he constantly thought of suicide. he said he did not know how much longer he could go on, and he begged the doctor to help him..

"i have just the thing for you." the doctor said, "you are very fortunate. grimaldi is in town. go to see him. he can make anyone laugh."

"but doctor," the man replied, "i am grimaldi."

--

warm summer sun
shine kindly here
warm southern wind
blow softly here
green sod above
lie light, lie light
good night, dear heart
good night, good night

- engraved on the tombstone of susie twain, beloved daughter of samuel clemens (mark twain), who passed away suddenly from meningitis

hey people.. ee kean's cousin has come down with leukemia and they need blood platelet donors. they probably won't draw your blood immediately. they just want 8 more people on standby, so you'll just have to go to singapore general hospital for testing. here's the email eeks sent me:

1. first, the donor has to be screened for suitability at singapore general hospital before you can be part of the stand-by group for donation whenever required.

2. secondly, donor has to go to ward 78 (ie. block 7 level 8) to get a form from the nurses there. please kindly inform them of your purpose and specify that it is for irena yap and then proceed to ward 72 for the screening. irena is staying at Ward 78, room 36.

3. thirdly, after the screening you may leave if the platelet is not immediately required. if required you may be asked to donate on the spot. for donation, blood will be drawn into a machine and platelets separated by the machine. following that your own blood will be returned into your body.

4. before you come, please kindly contact my brother-in-law (irena's husband, joseph tan) at 96696461.

5. telephone number at ward 78 is 63214782. because of sars, getting into the block may be a hassle. you have to explain to the sars screener at the ground floor, if not call the ward 78 number and the nurse will inform the screener to let you through.

out of the many who came yesterday for screening, 7 were found to be suitable to become standby platelets donors for irena. we will need another 8 to make it to 15.

there has been new info and requirement from the hematology center doing the platelet screening.

requirement 1 – Only b+ and ab+ blood type should come forward. (they found that o+ has many rejected yesterday).
requirement 2 – prefer male with visible veins (female with very visible veins can also come).
requirement 3 – not on any medication.
requirement 4 – aged between 18 to 55 only.


when you come, please proceed directly to sgh block 7, level 2 haematology centre, room 7 look for nurse siva. telephone number there is 63213515. please tell them it is for irena yap of ward 78 room 36.

time of screening is mon – fri (9am to 3.30pm), sat (9am to 11am), close on sunday.

--

please help out if your blood type matches. i'm sure eeks and her extended family would be very grateful. thanks.

first day at the new camp today.. jurong's pretty far away. about an hour and a half away from home. ah well. beats tekong, i guess. my days are from 7.45 to 5.30 and i don't have to stay-in. which is good.

the people there are very friendly and they helped me settle in really quickly. vincent, who works in the manpower branch, is my senior from rj and he took time of his busy schedule (like. yeah.) to show me the proverbial ropes. most of the ops branch (where they've put me for now) people were at mindef for some exercise so the place was almost deserted. i spent long hours watching the wall inch towards the window (desperately crying for freedom, no doubt.) and as a remarkable first in my life, i found the time to actually re-read today's paper. i'm definitely bringing something to do tomorrow. this cannot continue.

anyway, i foresee an enjoyable time at hq 3 division for me. i don't really need to watch my step all that much. there're only one or two tricky customers in this camp, from what i've heard. as the regimental sergeant major put it to me with a wry smile, "I hear the RSM is a right bastard. I swear I'll set that bugger straight the next time I see him." wow. a sense of humour. in the military that too.

how times have changed.

(he's a really nice guy, that rsm, by the way.)

mercurial.

she bleeds from her eyes tonight
staining the sky a crimson red delight
there’s no blood coursing through her veins
it’s raw emotion behind those tear stains
her sighs cloud her vision, so she can’t see
that some things aren’t ever meant to be
i take her hand and squeeze it gently
to let her know she’s still a friend to me
and her lips curl upward into a smile
beautiful enough to make my time worthwhile
precious even, if my heart wanted more
but it beats not as it did once before
i’ve grown to accept that, and she must too
that love is mercurial, whatever we may do
we must not linger, lest we fade away
into the dark, endless void that is yesterday
regret over that day and fear of tomorrow
are the twin thieves that rob us of the moment, so
regret not our loss, forget not our memories
cry not tonight, darling, i beg you, please.

someday we’ll meet as strangers once again
and i’ll fall in love with the girl behind that name
i’ll whisper bittersweet nothings to you
i’ll adore you and all that you say and do
someday, i’ll have you out for another dance
another chance for me to live by circumstance
under that night sky, you won’t be crying again
but sadly, i fear, that some things never change.

--

last words to a dying man.

the fume of your sighs forms a cloud,
that blankets your past, covers your present,
and places your future under an uncertain shroud.
now you lie as still as a moment; your energy spent.
the youth and hope in your eyes slowly slip out.
you've fought hard; you've won some and lost some.
looking back, it was never in any doubt,
you couldn't and can't stop what came and will come.
but there's still fire burning in those eyes.
i can see it clearly, the will you have to live.
the desire, the want, waving away the goodbyes.
this is the one chance that death is willing to give.
i know you can't see me or even hear my voice,
you're slipping away, but now is the time to fight.
you are going to have to make a choice,
time is short and the end is within sight.
in death, old friend, there is no defeat,
but in life.. ah, life.. there is victory.
there is still time. the taste of life is still sweet.
now open your eyes, friend, and please... look at me.

here's a recommendation for audiophiles:

pete yorn's latest album, day i forgot

songs to check out:
crystal village
come back home
pass me by
committed
all at once
so much work

--

crystal village

take my hand
come with me
into this crystal scenery
and wait 'til i retain the ticket
you would never have the time
i would love to change your mind
you were there
and it was good in the beginning
over here, see the lights
arranging twilight sages
commence to reveal it to the others
you would never have the time
i would love to change your mind
you were there
and it was good in the beginning
yeah, take my hand and come with me
into this crystal village
and see the lights so fried in brightness
cos you will never have the time
i would love to change your mind
you were there
and it was good in the beginning
take my hand, come with me
i see the lights so brightly
and we fall as if we never really mattered
cos you will never have the time
it was there
and it was good in the beginning
we were there
it was good in the beginning

gravel, along this road less travelled
tears for fears, emotions i've battled
filtering sand from my hand as i march
it brings no feeling to my sense of touch
my patience wears thin as i crave your skin
flesh, sweat and the temptation of sin
fieldpack on my back and burdened in my mind
a soldier knows no fear until it's time to die
distance, in this sense, will never part us long
through the night, towards the light where i belong
i'll march and sing and pound the ground
my boots shall move with mighty sound
i'll caress that face and taste those lips again
i'll take this escape and retreat from restraint
no longer a soldier, my touch no longer rough
once again a youth, only living for your love

--

it's been an eventful few weeks since my last post. haven't had the time, really, to update my blog and that just goes to show how my priorities have changed. but fear not... i'm planning to blog more often.

now, on to the pointless rambling:

army: 7 weeks of it has provided me with plenty of laughter and lessons. the people in my company are fantastic, from the instructors to the recruits to the support personnel. i made lots of friends and i hope to keep most of them.

from the first day itself, when i misread the instructions and went to the SAF ferry terminal in shorts, only to realise then that i had to report wearing trousers or jeans (i then proceeded to swap clothes with my dad in the toilet. amazingly, his shirt and trousers fit me pretty well. it was quite a laugh seeing my dad walk around tekong dressed in my clothes. he really looked out of place. kudos to him. that man never feels embarrassed and i'm proud of him. and very thankful.) to the remaining days, listening to the instructors talk amongst themselves and watching recruits do the stupidest things imaginable.

lots of little interesting/funny things happened too:
- my buddy's name is rahul too. but he's one of the weakest recruits in the company. so he's always getting yelled at and sometimes i don't know who my sergeant is yelling at. gotta watch the eyes.
- turns out that abiel and prashanth used to be in my company.. same platoon, same section. .. and i'm in the same bed that prashanth was in. freaky coincidence. prashanth was company 2nd best and abiel was best physical trainee.
- the lady in charge of the cookhouse came down to give a talk and at the end of it she showed us pictures of what the cookhouse was like before our time, when it hadn't yet been commercialised. one of the recruits asked her which year these photographs were taken. she thought for a long while before proudly answering, "Before commercialise."
- my sectionmate yansheng was asked why we need to work together as a team and he was convinced that it was because "we are sleeping together."
- another one of my sectionmates, samson tan, (he's half dutch, half chinese) is a black man. he really is. he can rap really well, he wears his shorts so low that it'd make an AC boy blush and he does fantastic grafitti work.
- they serve the exact same mutton dish every single day in the muslim cookhouse but they change the name everytime. it's been called "mutton mysore", "mutton madras", "mutton bombay", "mutton semur", "mutton rendang" and "mutton satay." and it's the same thing everytime (with the exception of mutton satay, which gives the mutton dish a whole new, unique twist by having the pieces skewered onto a stick.)
- my platoon sergeant can jump 216cm using only one leg, so my friend bing kun (we call him biscuit because his name sounds like the word for that in chinese) asked him with a wry smile if he can jump 432cm with both legs.
- strangely, it's a nice feeling watching platoons march across and past one another just nicely such that they don't have to slow down or stop to give way. it's especially sweet when they turn just in time.
- my malaysian sectionmate chinyi wanted to borrow my shoes in a hurry so that he could rush downstairs. i asked him for what, and he replied that something of his dropped down. i asked what had dropped down and his reply: "my panties."
- i named the cat that roams around the muslim cookhouse "sergeant major." coincidentally, his lifestyle resembles that of my company's sergeant major (the sergeant in charge of discipline and regimentation.)
- one of the platoon 3 guys has the most jumbled up mind ever. he led one of the warm up exercises and shouted out this instruction: "everyone, on your butts... up!"
- my company's smokers came up with a smoker's pledge that was taken almost wholesale from our country's one, with some choice additions: "so as to achieve equality in protein and nicotine."
- during a match between the instructors from our company (kilo) and alpha, one of the platoon 3 guys yelled a taunt at the shortest alpha player on the pitch: "hey! stand up and play lah!"
- we watched a pirated copy of xmen in the lecture theatre during our free time and samson and i spent the majority of the film laughing at the ridiculous subtitling. examples:
"incredible nightcrawler" ----> "incredible black clown"
"we've got to stop cerebro" ----> "we've got to stop the Vibro"
- during a first aid talk, sergeant redzuan, with the straightest face imaginable (i mean, he was convinced that this was not very obvious and that he had to tell us about this amazing detail or else it might cost someone's life.), informed us that one of the signs of severe bleeding (we're talking really severe here.) is the casualty complaining that he/she feels sick and more crucially, they suffer from (god forbid!) restlessness and thirst.
- i realised that the deeper you go into bmt.. army people slowly stop giving you the benefit of the doubt.