Dear Officer Tan

Hi,

How is your sorry life in the army going? I sure hope you're still as sore as you were 2 years ago while we were in the same unit. I really do hope that fresh recruits and privates still cower in fear whenever you walk into a room with that stern, impassive and "I totally can't be bothered with bloody low-lives just because I'm an officer" look. Me? I'm fine. I didn't overdose myself on Panadols after my unfortunate encounter with your wrath. Nor did I prove to be one of those problem cases you always figured clerks to be.

Now, where shall this lead? Shall I begin with my first impressions of you? How about that single encounter with you that, in my eyes, put you forever in bad light? Or the times I could have sworn I knew you were laughing in your heart as you whispered my inadaquacies to Chiefy?

Being posted to a stay-in unit after 3 months of staying out was bad enough. Having to make new friends when enemies seemed to be everywhere was bad enough. Trying to prove myself to be good enough to stay in Chiefy's good books was bad enough. Having to take over the whole Regimentation and Discipline section in 1 month was bad enough. Learning all the tricks of the trade by making phone calls, being diverted here and there was bad enough. And then you came along.

Despite being in the army for only 6 months then, I had already seen some officers with faces like yours. What was I to do? I was just a clerk, a private. I was not a plastic surgeon. I wonder how the clerks in your branch felt. You never seemed to look happy. It was as if your whole life was ruined by this workplace, by the very essense of being in a Headquarters company. It was as if you had no future, only the humdrum office work day-in, day-out.

Then came one of my first weekend duties. You know, the Ops room doesn't exactly require three people sitting and staring at the phone, willing it to ring and picking it up before the third ring. Anybody within 5 metres of the phone can do it. Even lowly clerks. We're not dumb, you know. We even know how to spell telephone. T-E-L-E-P-H-O-N-E. It was a Sunday. People naturally relax on Sundays. The camp only had duty personnel (and probably some workaholics). So I visited the I-net room to check my email. So I stayed to watch some confinees play some games on the computer. What's wrong with that? I was still contactable: my handphone was in my pocket. If the DO wanted me back, I would be back in a matter of seconds. We're clerks, some of us might not be able to run, but we have not regressed to crawling either. Puh-lease... 20 metres? How long do you expect us to take to cover that distance?

And what did you do? You knew that this was the one place I could be. You barged in. You hollered at all the soldiers playing computer games. You don't think they should be having fun while you had to send urgent emails on a Sunday afternoon. You think that they would make better use of their time rotting in their bunks, thinking that taking 20 Panadols at a go is much better than being cooped up with nothing to do. And you shouted at me. You hollered. You threw profanities. (I was not so surprised by the latter. Everyone does that all the time in the army.) You think that just because a person is on duty, he must be in the room at all times. You think that Singapore was being attacked then. You think that the 3 people in the Ops room could actually prevent a terrorist attack in the US. Fine. I cooped myself in the room. I created a character for the short story I was writing then. I gave him all the negative qualities I could think of. Then I killed him in the story. (Killed by 6 x 0.45 cal bullets. But not before he killed one of his most brilliant proteges.)

That wasn't bad enough. You had to gloat to Chiefy on your find. As if Chiefy doesn't know how duty personnel behaved on weekend duties. Chiefy had to oblige by reprimanding me. You smirked away. Why? Why? Have I ever jumped your queue? Have I ever stolen some job interview from you? Did I make away with an inheritance that was supposed to be yours? And what's so wrong with a wrinkled uniform? Why gloat over that too? I don't wear my uniform into camp; I have to fold it up and bring it in when I book in on Sunday evenings! Of course it'll be wrinkled when I fold it! Why? Does your eyebrow twitch uncontrollably when you see a wrinkle on a uniform? Perhaps it's the lack of a rank sewn there. You hate a totally clean uniform? You treat recruits and privates with disdain? Is that why?

Or maybe you're jealous. You think that all clerks should suffer their first 3 months. They should hate the clerk life so much that they'd rather become riflemen. You were jealous that I somehow got into Chiefy's good books so quickly. But the reason I got in so quickly was because she thought that my A level results might prove helpful in grooming me to become the assistant chief clerk. If you were jealous of me getting into her good books, you're jealous of the reason I got there. Working backwards, does that mean that you're jealous of my A level grades? Or do you think that we A level holders are just too soft? That we always find ways to get office jobs? That I'm faking a right knee injury?

Congratulations, officer Tan. You are one of the characters that made my army life worse than what I was. For that, you will always be remembered, and you also get your fifteen seconds of fame in my blog. I hope you enjoy your days in the army. I hope your mannerisms make the army a better place for all.

Regards
Cpl (NS) Jimmy
ORD lo!

The Big Deal About Neighbourhood Schools

Perhaps you would recall a huge furore made over one Malay girl's choice of a secondary school late last year. Perhaps you recall how people wrote into the Forum page of The Straits Times, reminising their secondary school choices. This post might come a tad too late, given that the girl's probably started school in Raffles, groomed to be an elite. But she doesn't read my blog, right? So what I say here should not have any effect on anyone.

I remember having to choose my secondary school back when I was still a little 12 year old. I had no idea what secondary school was about. I had no idea which schools were the good ones. All I knew was that Victoria seemed like a nice place and my father kept harping about how it's pretty high up on the Secondary school standings. Gan Eng Seng was just a five minute walk from home. So those two became top choice for secondary school.

Alas, I didn't make it into Victoria Secondary, missing by a slight margin. (3 points off the cut-off?) So I ended up in Gan Eng Seng, probably the most convenient place for my Secondary education. Things were still good in secondary one: I was in the top ten of my class, I did not have to worry about missing a bus going to school, the works. But things were different in sec 2. Competition came up from all corners. Streaming was approaching. Guess what? Because Gan Eng Seng is just a neighbourhood school, their courses were more tailored to combine science classes. We only had space for 3 pure science classes, only one of which offered triple science. Oh, how we fought for that coveted spot in the triple science class.

Unfortunately, my lack of artistic skills pulled my grade average down. (Ok, I didn't do as fantastically as the rest of my peers for some other subjects too, but art was my worst subject.) I ended up in the 2nd best class. Which was fine, really. It offered a wonderful mix of both humanities and science. But I wanted to study biology. Deep in my heart, I knew humanities would kill me. I had no idea why anyone would want to study something so subjective when the mechanical clockwork of the sciences was so much more practical and easier to grasp.

Perhaps I hoped that taking Biology would help me get over being squemish with blood. I knew for sure that I would have enjoyed learning more about life and cells and growth. Perhaps I hoped that I could use the Bio lessons as a springboard to getting interested in medical studies. Perhaps it could have helped me do better in my O levels and got me into Victoria JC and out of the "cycle of the average".

But well, what's done is done. I guess I'm just an average guy, so I'll end up doin things only "averagely". I guess I can't even trust myself to do things "perfect" or "very good". I'm just "average". (Now now, when did this post become a semi-rant?)

Ok, it appears that in my long-windedness, I have lost track of my point. The thing is, if I had not gone to a neighbourhood school and had gone into an autonomous or independant one like my sister, I might have been able to get into a class which offered Biology. I might have enjoyed it much more than Literature, which I totally suck at. A better school might have provided me with more opportunities.

At this point, I'd really like to bring up the point that I've made some really good friends while in an average school like Gan Eng Seng. I was in a really great CCA. I did quite well in the school. But I guess these just add length to my posts which some people complain are too long.

So I'll end my post here, with the take home message that the girl made a choice which opened her to bigger opportunities. She might not like the more pressured environment. She might not make as many colourful friends. She might end up being only average in a whole school of elites. But the grass always looks greener on the other side anyway. -Jimmy

One Day When I was Coming Home from School...

No man is an island. Perhaps he is more like a boat, able to move about, but still dependent upon fuel and skilled navigation

Geez. What a long title. Ok, this train of thought occurred when I was coming home from school, so I figure that it fits as a title. It was just another day in school. One of the wonders of the second week of school is the fact that I found no need to stay back in school after the normal lessons for project meetings and whatnot. I had earlier told my mom that I'd be home for lunch, so immediately after lessons, I made my way to the bus-stop and waited for the ride home.

Still, I had a little feeling at the base of my stomach that I was missing a vibrant aspect of student life by going home straight after lessons. Think about it: What's the first thing that comes to your mind when a person goes straight home without having lunch with classmates and enjoying some idle chit-chat? Stuck-up. Mugger. Loner. SOB elitist who won't fit the time into his schedule for his classmates.

Well, this dilemma hit me back in my JC days before. Some days, when I'd be taking my bus home after school, I'd see the more "on" people in class heading off somewhere for dinner. A part of me wanted to join this group, to find out their goings-on, to bond with them outside of the class, to just have fun. However, my more (stingy) dominant half would reason that dinner at home is guaranteed nice, wholesome and free. Also, I would have more time to play my computer games.

I didn't bring a lot of friends over from JC. Throughout my army days, I only went out with the same bunch of people: sometimes the friends from my primary school days, sometimes the "Bachelor's Club" from SA ODAC. But it's amazing how this particular group stayed in-touch even as the army brought out the best and worst in all of us. We pulled through thick and thin, even arranging a special get-together when one of us, who had migrated to England, came back to Singapore. So what was my point again? Oh yes, my point is that despite restricting my hours in school to just that of lessons and CCAs, I still managed to keep a bunch of friends that I really treasure and enjoy the company of.

So, in my roundabout fashion, I'm going to link that feeling back in JC to the feeling I have now while waiting for the bus. What has changed? Meals at home are still nice, wholesome and free. Some of the more "on" people do meet up for lunch and some chit chat. Well, not much has changed, eh? So the logical aspect in me would think: if you didn't go out with friends after school hours back then and still ended up with a tight circle of friends, can't you do the same now and still end up with some good friends at least?

Perhaps some things have changed. Now that I'm being trained as a businessman/manager, a part of me is saying that I should get to know as many people in school now to build up my network. Afterall, these people are going to be your peers in the working world. They can provide you lobangs, introduce trusted clients, make or break your career. A strong network now can prove very useful later on. So a part of me screams to stay in school to strengthen my bonds with these new friends.

Some part of me also tells me that uni is probably the best place to find a girlfriend. Everyone says that you'll be busy building your career after this, so if you can juggle studies and a partner now (like so many other people in uni), what can be a better time? What's the harm in staying back in school to build up a network of friends and perhaps find a suitable partner?

These things float in my mind as I wait for the bus. On one hand, it's the familiarity of home, the coziness of your own bed, the wholesome meals. On the other hand, it's the needs I've identified to strenthen my position in the future, and maybe finding someone you could enjoy life with. As I step onto the bus, I am hit with guilt; that I'm putting off my network building by yet another day.

Maybe the next time I sit at the bus-stop waiting for my ride home, I'll finally decide that I would want to forego the familiarity of home for one day and bond with my friends. Maybe I'll walk away from that bus-stop and head back into the school compound. Maybe. If project work doesn't get to me first. -Jimmy

A Post for the Sake of One

Read to the end of the post. Then make your own judgment about the picture. No funny captions included.

Ok, I'm trying something that might seem disconcerting to you. But I'm doing it just cos I wanna post my thoughts and dissect them later on. I am going to freeze my thoughts just as they flash across my mind, like some kind of cryogenics experiment.

I'll first begin with the festive season. I read in the papers some days back that for centuries, people have been celebrating at the end of the year. This was even before Christmas was celebrated. Well, so that's where the term "festive season" came from.

However, Christmas this year seemed to be different. It felt cold. It reminded me of a Christmas 2 years ago. (Now comes the disconcerting part. I am torn between typing down what happened 2 years ago and what happened this Christmas. My mind can switch focus between the two in the blink of an eye, but my fingers respond much slower.)

It was a rainy December 2 years ago. (Duh. December's are always rainy.) I was barely 6 months into my stint as a clerk in S1 branch, 6SIR. The audit was approaching in January. I was in-charge of the documents for regimentation and discipline. The Chief Clerk wanted no errors. And I saw that taking leave in December was a big no-no. Everyone in branch knew that. It came as animal instinct for everyone in branch. You had to learn how to read Chiefy or you died. Well, not literally die, but she'll grill you and give you a hard time and make your life in army torture. So we became meteorologists. We learnt to read the weather. Cloudy skies, possibility of rain: lie low, aim for a well-placed comment, maybe. Or perhaps just look like you're really doing your work. Warm sunshine: come out and enjoy it while you can. (I told you it'll be disconcerting.)

Then came the tough part. My family had intended to go back to Indonesia for the yearly/two-yearly trip. It was something I had never missed all my life. I never did understand why we returned to Indonesia. My parents wanted to see their siblings, but my sister and I never did click well with our cousins. Language barrier. However, going to Indonesia does have its perks. Savoury food (read: too salty), big houses, cheap stuff and unexpected surprises. The last time I went back to my parents' hometowns, I learnt how to ride a motorcycle.

So there I was, with a choice before me: enjoy for 2 weeks in Indonesia and regret it for the rest of my army days, or slog for 2 weeks and reap the benefits. (Actually, I think Chiefy wouldn't have let me apply for leave anyway.) So for almost 2 weeks, I returned from camp on weekends to an empty house. I had to do my own laundry, I had to ensure I had enough of the neccessities. I was fine with that. I figured that I could live with the space. I could go out with friends. But the reality was way off. A bit of me felt lost, helpless, lonely. (Confession alert. The following statements might prove disturbing for some. Reader discretion is advised.) I even cried once in the shower.

That was the worst Christmas/New Year combo ever. Worst ever. Worst worst. (Damned English language. Can't they find a word that's worse than worst?) Ok, that was the f*cking worst Christmas/New Year.

Fast forward to this year. My Mom had to undergo a day operation 2 days before Christmas to remove a polyp from her womb. We spent the whole Christmas weekend at home while she recuperated. Thankfully, everything is fine, and New Year was slightly more lively. However, with the rain and other factors, I can't help feeling down myself. I could choose to go out with friends and have fun, but why do I want to stay home with my parents and their less than lively schedules? Maybe it's cos I don't really have friends whom I can really party with? Maybe I'm just afraid of asking someone I don't usually ask out? Maybe what I really want is to be with my parents?

But what's this whole hum-drum, "Oh, pity me, I'm a sad person" persona that's come over me? Why, could it be that school's starting, and we have to get into the daily routine again? Guess not: I keep telling myself that everyone goes thru that, it makes little difference whether you kick and shout when being dragged into it. So brooding me started brooding over what else is causing this humdrum-ness. Is the the notion of "new year"? Isn't "year" a man-made construct, ultimately to give a sense of time in our lives, to peg our lives to it? What's there to be sad about?

{Edit} I just came back from a walk. The thoughts frozen in place before the walk, the numbing sadness... well, they disappeared when I saw the mist hanging above the ground after the rain just now. Then the cool breeze blew past, leaving you feeling refreshed. And with my parents for company, I figured that there isn't time to bother over humdrum-ness. There are too many good things in life to treasure, and these would be a better use of my time. Happy new year, everyone! -Jimmy