Terror!

CORRECTION
I'm currently learning how to set up explosives and blow up shit, not building bridges. After about a month, I should be moving to another camp to further my training to to project combat troops and vehicles across rivers and water obstacles to engage the enemy. I think my engineer training should be supplemented by further infantry training.

Question now is, terror organizations, would you hire me for an exorbitant salary?

Am going to be building bridges. Ugh.

The Power of Delusional Thinking!

I like this song. It makes me want want to jump around and do aerobics to Damon Albarns' sexy, sexy voice. I've been pretty much a nerd the entire block leave, filling up on music and books making up for time lost on that island. In two more days, I'll have to report back to camp in green and the idea that the past week was a false glimmer of hope hasn't completely sunk in yet. I still keep thinking that I'll be sleeping in on Monday, waking up to complete another one of Michael Chabon's books.

Alas, my leave is finishing but I think I still have some built up aggro from abstaining from loud music and alcohol.

An hour of happy clappy music you can dance to! (Recommended for gloomy people): Baron Von Luxxury- So Fucking Disco NYC Summer 2007 Mix

Temporal Insanity!

And as the pressure built up within the syringe, forcing the morphine into blood and muscle my body begin tensing up in reaction to the liquid violently diffusing into one with my arm. Despite the drugs, I feel the needle cut through the skin as I began drumming on chest. The nurse looks alarmed as I look visibly shaken as I begin to squirm while she adjusts the needle to as angle that will-ostensibly-draw blood more efficiently.

The idea of ripping out the needle and viciously stabbing the nurse empowered by the wrath of karma, inflicting upon her the pain she's inflicted upon oh so many victims.


However, the story of my life plays out in reality and not upon pages stained with ink. Tsk, tsk. Consequence, consequence.

magick.

M is for magical and that's what we men are.

People with books.

I think, I find army life depressing. There's too much testosterone, muscle flexing and metaphorical Neanderthal chest pounding. After three months of basic military training, I've learnt how to strip and assemble the Singapore Assault Rifle 21, fire like a marksman, assault and react to and assault in urban and jungle environments.

I am supposed to be able to kill you if for some reason you decide to wage war against this country.

However, army life and its regimentation just does not cut it. For 3 months of my life, the paltry soldiering skills I've gained-learnt through sloppily administered lessons and suspect tests- just doesn't seem worth it.

Being a soldier just isn't fulfilling. There's nothing to delight the senses and fill the mind with wonderment. I miss being a civilian. I miss talking to people and listening to people talk. The interaction, and the satisfaction of reaping the fruits of your daily efforts almost immediately.

I hate feeling detached from society. I'm Military personnel now, and I feel awkward when amongst civilians.I also, hate how I can't seem to be satisfied by my stations in life. Oh and my language skills are deteriorating.


Girls make me want to break out giggling. Like, WHAT THE FUCK.

No longer a recruit!

Yes, I am now a private. Which pleases me for some reason.