I'm just had my shower after Lust Caution, R21(cheap thrill from acting 1 year older), and its one in the morn, and i ought to be hitting the sack. But, I cannot help but somehow blog about a rather amusing night with my old debate mates.

I tried imagining myself abit of a brilliant strategist when I was relating the rather sticky and unfortunate predicament I now find myself in, And explaining the imperative to pull a Nixon and extricate myself from the rather indelicate situation. The two Kissinger's pumped me full with brilliant philosophy like:

• "if you cannot get the hero, then keep farming the creeps to level up. you will own one day"

• "Or before Nixon pulled out, he bombed the shit out of North Vietnam. " (this can mean a myriad of things. I honestly have no idea exactly what, but the possibilities of what bombing the shit out of the north might allude to in the context of my misfortune is naughty and amusing)

Unfortunately, I am uncertain if I am that capable. I think for me, it is abit more JFK and his idealism than anything else. And I'm awful worried I might not do a Nixon and instead pull the mess which is the Bay of Pigs, and end up humiliated, and being beaten by some tobacco lovin chicano in the Castro vein.

Argh.

Anyway, I'm just keeping my fingers crossed and hoping for the best. And as the real Kissinger wrote in his memoirs, "ideals need to be leavened with a dose of pragmatism." (or at least something to this effect.)

-ps. And I'll try to have my posts not so cryptic nxt time.

Exploring Possibilities.

Argh would have to be the most apt expression. All at once, there was shaq at the free throw line and Cpt Jack Sparrow discovering that what he thought was burried treasure was a cache of rum. I think Shaq at the free throw line stung abit more because: I've always fancied myself to be more Kobe and to do a Shaq is an incredible afront to the narcissist's complex.

But what the hell, whatever comes. The buzz line is still to love life, and as Mrs Melissa Neo(the most awesome teacher i've known) said in her sms: "Carpe Diem".

Mittens with the ass in front.

Its been long. The jungle, the gunpowder, the blaze of flares and starring at my crotch in the rain waiting for time to pass, then throw in a year of trying to not fail math in J2. Ha! 3 years, good God. Fine, there were another one or two feathery swishes that slipped by during the interim, but the then Joshua Harris inspired me declared that it would not happen till after army. (not that i am inspired by stuff like that anymore)

God, now its starting to creep in again.

The whisper of a thrill.

Hm...

Army Prom Part II - Life, the Universe and Everything else, and just maybe, God

I think the ORD function is my penultimate(graduation being the last) milestone before taking that final step to plunge into the great unknown that is life. The end of NS marks a very halcyon, float around season of bumming and fun jobs, and i hope, a holiday. Although the next two weeks would i think be incredibly boring because I can't fly off yet, shits.

But back to the zen stuff, Life the Universe and Everything else. ORD function night was also a night which I had abit of difficulty sleeping, and the night of the angsty baseball post, which context, if not already obvious, should be revealed in a later entry. The difficulty in trying to fall asleep was due in part to the angsty baseball post, and another awful BIG ASS QUESTION: Where to next?

Secondary School: god, i hate my elvis sideburns

It was nice and innocent at the end of secondary school. It was a time when I had alot of fun with my classmates, Christian Fellowship, and of course, one of the craziest and best experiences, Debates. I was on abit of a roll cca and grades wise, and all I wanted to do was live a radical(this i swear, is the appropriate word, you'd know if you were acquainted with me then), brilliant Christian life.

Well, come junior college, life's priorities were very much the same. And I think i quite succesfully lived out the end of sec4. aim of holding true to my Christian values, etc etc... JC was I think though, abit less fun when compared to my secondary school years.

JC: me and my cat high buddies at prom

It was a mad rush of trying to be punctual at school, photocopying notes I did not file, struggling to stay awake at lectures, mugging math last minuite, and spotting wrong history topics for the A's. At the end of JC, i still wanted to live a radical Christian life, make history for Jesus, etc etc...

At the end of army however, it has all changed. My friends agree. I've been called:

Frivolous(car).

Sex Monster(lunch).

Chee kor Tat(online).

Lols, not that I'm offended. I do however appreciate very much a poem that suggested the very core of my being somehow remained (yea... if u read tis, thanks. somehow saw that post while browsing, thanks loads old friend!). I hope the last assesment on who aik thong is would be the most accurate of all, though I confess I've been pretty pervy of late.

NOW: me with 4 honey stars. God, the future looks bleak.

Whether I've changed is not in question. I have since ORD function spent some time thinking how things would turn out for me. I've not reached a conclusion. Though i'm glad the residue from 7 years of radical Christian belief and ambition(especially the Matt28:19 part) has left a desire to change the fucked up-ness of the world or somehow have my life count for some bigger purpose than my mere self. This is, of course possibly the speech of a virgin, still green and unacquainted with the harsh realities of the plunge I have yet to take.

God, I really hope such ideals would at least remain in the throes of my concious mind and not fade away into some unknown hazy part of my head and that... ... I don't degenerate any further than putting honey stars on my face. I'm glad to say I wasn't the only one though, ha!

Army Prom - Part I, of crying ah bengs, exotic dancers, bra wearing officers, and drunk sergeants

It was a spectacular sight. When you see not just grown men, but the Ah Bengs, the one with a new tatoo, or mr.rebel-a-lot, bawl like babies and bury their sobbing heads in your shoulder while choking their best wishes, thanks and goodbyes. The last time something like that happened was in a church service I attended sometime last year.

you can't see the face of the one with the new tatoo, heng ah.

And the ending of last night's ORD function was one of those spiritual experiences, where in a bit of an epiphany, one realises that despite all the bitching about army, the occasional deplorable need to wayang, and the clamour to Serve And F**k the hell off, there's quite alot of love' going around.

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iskandar, spoiling my shot

Then of course, as with most army celebrations, the exotic, skimpily dressed dancers. Hm... Yums. And we'd better leave it at this.

There were people puking. lol, sky... haha! and my pc wore a red bra too! I think it'd fit just right if e bra were a few sizes smaller.

Of course all these were fun, but i think the emotions that were running high, and that sense of er... camraderie (which really is a word I hate to use because it is flung around in speeches by crabs and stars so often it loses it value and is, in my opinion a mere buzz word to have in speeches) made the night for us all. It was one of the nights when one realises the reallity of a cliche, nice...

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d a

picture taken from wikipedia

Baseball Philosophy?

For some reason still vague and mysterious, a real sour pang kicked in, whereby I was left uncomfortable for a really long time. I think I was reasonably successful, I achieved the end goal(secondary one since the desired end, of course, is celebration and remembrance) at the close of the dinner, but so did some of the laddies with my little project.

And perhaps it is because it is a mere project, reckless, and devoid of the usual links I'd expect it to have that the enigmatic jolt kicked in as hard as it did. But given the circumstances, I think intentions can already be guessed. And I've been played a throw where if my swing is timed to perfection, i'd probably get a line drive all the way to the stands with no one intercepting the ball. And if we don't get to home, i'd think just running to 2nd or 3rd for the thrill of it won't hurt, hopefully we would all be entertained.

I can't careless if I fuck up the shot, or even if i'm struck out. But rest assured, sportsmanship dictates I neither drive the ball straight into the pitcher or worse, take an aimed swing at the pitcher with my bat. For the love of the game, everyone should have fun, and no one be injured.

So why not give it my best shot?