Kinda Sexy.

I am still reeling from the four days spent in the Singaporean wilderness. Breaking from the concrete landscape that is the definition of our country into a tiny corner of Singapore that's mostly foliage or dirt, complemented by clear skies dotted by stars as far as the eye can see. It's hard not to miss the wilderness.

However trips to the wilderness are usually accompanied by bouts of extreme physical labour, poor nutrition and broken up sleep patterns-a complete lack of sleep for some.

I imagine that smokers must get the same heady sensation that I associate with heading outfield, albeit on a much lesser scale and in a much shorter time frame. The mixture of pleasure and feeling shite, together with the physical withdrawal and yearning for the next destructive high. I mean, right now I can't really get to sleep properly, even though I'm tired out of my brains but I can just feel the memory of the last outfield teasing me, like sexy, sexy, smoke teasing itself all the way into the pleasure centers.

Can't wait for next outfield.

Spangly bursts of bravado!

I think, the rate I carry on with shooting from the hip I'm bound to get into serious trouble in camp. I almost got into some serious shit last week when I spoke a wee bit loudly and bluntly without respect for rank and chain of command and all that nonsense that comes with have more icons decorating your chest epaulet. Thankfully all the pomp and swagger was backed by the power of right and the strength of the very foundation of the institution. Hopefully, when I do get indiscreet in my foolish disregard for revering rank irregardless of whether it is backed by reason, I don't burst into tears. Crying is a cheap trick to gain an immediate favourable emotional response. I hope I manage to will whatever emotion I feel as I'm getting called out into aggression; and turn green and start smashing things.

I mean, when you're angry you're more motivated and to do things to get even as opposed to wallowing in tears. I mean, look at all the angry fucked up people who grew up to be crazy serial killers as opposed to emo depressives who get committed to a mental institution. Which one would you rather be?

Groupthink.

Getting co-opted into a relationship with a large group of people sucks. Somewhere along the line, people decide that the ability to think critically should give way to passive aggressiveness and grudgingly adhering to the ideals of the group.

This, makes people stupid and which is why almost all of the people I have fallen in love with are loners who are comfortable enough to be able to do their own things.

Groupthink.

Getting co-opted into a relationship with a large group of people sucks. Somewhere along the line, people decide that the ability to think critically should give way to passive aggressiveness and grudgingly adhering to the ideals of the group.

This, makes people stupid and which is why almost all of the people I have fallen in love with are loners who are comfortable enough to be able to do their own things.

Oh Hai (2)

To complement this funk, I'm beginning to feel feverish. Which, if it turns out to be actual fever, would be the second week in a row that I've been struck with this horrible attack on my body. I hope it doesn't get worse, because I think this fire's starting to AFFECT MY BRAIN.

Which, is never good.

Oh hai.

I'm stuck in a rut and coping the only way I know how, by curling up in a ball and pretending nothing else exists. I'll see you people again when the cloud has passed.

Adorable.

Is when the guy who's supposed to be this fearsome creature who is in charge of discipline very gingerly pull your ear, after you tell him that your Individual Physical Proficiency Test (IPPT) scores allowed only a silver award.

'Cheebye, Dick, so fit you still dare to get silver only.'

Which is adorable. Kind of like a parent playfully conveying disappointment in a child who has been skiving off and not fulfilling has potential. Which I guess in a way, he is. He is a parent with young children. And, as much as the men in camp dislike whatever stupidity that happens as a result of his actions, I guess he's just a harmless person trying to do his job the way he best knows how. Mostly, people are inherently nice. In the eternally wise words of the band Simian, 'We are your friends!', at least that's what I like to think.

obsession.

There are things that cannot be explained and there are things that you shouldn't bother trying to explain. Like, how can you even to not get excited like a small boy when you hear that Josh Homme, Dave Grohl and John Paul Jones. The collective powers of Nirvana, Foo Fighters, Eagles of Death Metal and Led Zeppelin combined to make girls wet and boys wish they could swagger like a rock star in them tight as hell jeans.

Like I won't explain why I behave and think the way I do. It just isn't done. If you think too much and try and make up reasons and justify every single thing you lose all the magic and everything would be a lot less fun. Why do I have to justify loving star shine? I don't. If I say too much it just becomes boring, and seriously who the fuck cares.

Sit back, and wonder.

awkward.

I was about to say something. Then, I got distracted and I forgot. There was plenty of music played loudly involved and talking and joy and smiling. I remember the gist of what I wanted to say but I can't quite put to paper in a form that's vaguely recognizable as coherent thought. It's like forgetting how to flip an egg after years of not cooking and any attempt to flip said egg will result in disaster and foolishness of epic proportions.

I feel crusty. Which means I should probably stop fighting and let them win. Rest, I think, is the order for the night.

Free Hugs Are Not A Myth.

Regardless of race, language, or religion. Oh, how living with men 120 hours a week changes you. It does, really. I need to get out more and dose myself with more of them females.

I would like to be able to metaphorically shrivel up like a beach starfish, baking in the hot sand absorbing all the goodness (and badness!) of the suns' rays.


It'd be nice to be satisfied and comfortable, instead of being fidgety thinking about a whole lot of things that don't really matter. It'd be nice to literally have someone to call upon to sit and watch the world go by with. Glorious sunsets are so much more glorious when their beams are reflected off an even happy shinier face.

Tired beyond measure. However, it's a feeling that's strangely addictive. Which like a lot of feelings and things that I cannot get enough of, is silly and detrimental to my well being.

Frankly speaking, it's not really okay. But I'm going to go out and pray that I get so tired and feel so rubbishy that I'm going to collapse from exhaustion or something similar. Then I'm going to savour the feeling and meet people. Because social interaction is always good. And, god knows I need it.

It's okay to be late, if this song comes up on the play list just as you are about to step out the door and you decide to stay home just a little longer to swoon. This is the kind of song that makes me want to grab somebody by the balls just to love them.

Which is disturbing. Because if the people that I love had balls to grab, ugh. Goodness, what the fuck am I doing at home on a Saturday?

The Joys of Money!

Barely 3 hours ago, I had about a dollar and twenty cents in cash, a negative amount of my ez-link card, and about three dollars which I couldn't touch in my bank account. Having spent the entire day with that state of finances and consequently feeling insignificant in our capitalist society, you can probably imagine the joy that a late night trip to the nearest automated teller machine brought.

I had money to spend again! I could take public transport again!

I left the petrol station, bursting at the seams with barely contained rainbows and care bears and sparkly beams of star shine. Heading straight into the streets I thought that I would burst into a maniacal burst of joy before I leave the bright lights of the petrol station into the cover of the street. Once on the streets, I burst out in a tremendous fit of giggles and proclaimed victory over the forces of poverty with a fist punch. And, that was it. I did not have anything else with which I could have expressed my joy. Which, was extremely anticlimactic and kinda self defeating.


Ugh. I need a hug.

Machismo

Flab,non existent muscle.

'Tis ridiculous! I'm supposed to be on status, 'excused upper limb activities' which means I shouldn't be using my arms for anything heavier than the spoon that provides me nourishment. Unfortunately, there seems to be something written in my genetic code that says I must have a part in the flexing of manly superiority that would probably be the equivalent of peacocks flaunting their plumage.

Volunteering to shift heavy boxes and allowing myself to be coaxed into an unnecessary route march. I don't know what it is that makes me so susceptible to coaxing that finds me in the most undesirable positions doing things that I thoroughly dislike.

I don't know. I shouldn't be carting around boxes that are bigger than me and bruise me more than I manage to damage them hurling them around. An out of shape soldier who has abstained from physical activity for 3 months shouldn't jump at loading up more than 15kg of weight and stomping around in the hot sun because of camaraderie because of the suggestion of getting soft if I didn't march.

I need a couch, with loud music, a foot bath and a listening ear. Preferably, the listening ear is into hair stroking as well. Ugh. I'm a pussy! I want to be able to luxuriate in that.

But no! There's no place for being a selfish pussy in an army camp. There's got to be plenty of macho grunting and masochistic tendencies when in comes to endurance and ugh. I hurt in so many different places from helping so many people carry stuff that consuming too much sugar is making everything worse. Thank you, and I think I'll go listen to music until ears bleed.

Happy Songs Remain A Constant.

YACHT - Psychic City (Voodoo City) from Jona Bechtolt on Vimeo.

I wish I were quirky and cool and awesome like that; and that I didn't talk so much. Maybe if I said the right things more.

Comfort.

I like being at home. There's always music playing out loud at home, and that's always comforting. There's nothing better than having music to temper one's mood with. I also like taking long walks to nowhere in particular and getting lost in the process. People think it's crazy that I can walk for hours on end for no apparent reason, other than exercise (which is not really true) when in actual fact I enjoy getting lost and discovering new wonderous places full of intrigue and magic! The joy of discovery is one that is too often underestimated. The sharp contrast to the bland cardboard of everyday existence, magic.

I also like being constantly exposed to star shine. It's one of the perks of taking walks outdoors, be it the shine from a single furious star threatening to crush your very existence with its' might. Or the shine of a all the stars in the galaxy at night, teasing from beyond infinity. It's another one of those magic things. Just gaze up into the sky at night and think about it and your insignificance will come crushing down on you.

Statement of fact.

I am not Malay, even if I have naturally dark skin and un-Chinese features. I weigh 65 KG, but am extremely scrawny because all the fat goes to my face. I am sick, but refuse to take drugs which only treat my symptoms. As a result I'm feeling pretty crummy. I'm beginning to think that mutual attraction is a myth, because if anything I've only known the reverse for quite some time now. I am lovesick and it is extremely foolish. I think I might run out of steam already, which is disappointing because the idea of romance is so captivating.

That's Lance Corporal to you.

Duty at the Floating platform has been awesome. Discounting the fatigue from from being a walking interactive signboard, waving people off and destroying my feet standing in unseasoned boots the entire day under the hot sun, it was pretty enjoyable. I think, subconsciously I have extremely masochistic tendencies. Being on duty even alleviated the horrible symptoms of fever that wreaked havoc on my body the day before.

The funny thing about working with large crowds though, is how many idiots who simply cannot stand following protocol and absolutely must be allowed to get things done their way. There was this fucker who was ostensibly accompanying his female partner to the toilet. Putting aside the fact that a young couple heading to the toilet together is already pretty fishy, they had to attempt to cut across the staircase which had restricted access. Then in an attempt at bravado, the male began bombarding me with false logic in an attempting to confuse. Which was easily defeated by simply looking him straight in the eye and repeating 'No', until it got through his thick skull that I had orders which I wasn't going to disregard for him. Ultimately proving his impotence and idiocy, because the detour through the other staircase would have simply took him 30 seconds longer at most, and he wouldn't have been made to look like a fool in front of his date.

On the other hand, if you're nice and pretty (optional but it helps!) and make the effort to sweet talk around the professional facade you'll find things will work in your favour pretty easily. I mean sure, I'll be covering my face in shame the minute you're out of sight. Then again, I'm still very much a guy and pretty things are always appreciated. I can't help it, it's in my genetic coding.