Your Birthdate: October 31

Your birthday suggests that you are a good organizer and manager, an energetic and dependable worker; attributes often showing success in the business world. Serious and sincere, you have the patience and determination necessary to accomplish a great deal. Your approach can be original, but often rigid and stubborn. Sensitivity may be present, but feeling are likely to be repressed. You are good with detail and insist on accuracy, but at times scatter energies. You're a practical thinker, but not without imagination. You love travel and don't like to live alone. You should probably marry early, for responsibility is necessary for your stability.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Just another entry.

Hey look! What's that?! Look, it's the floor! Looks like liquid. Looks wet.

It's SWEAT!

I have just returned from one of my fat-burning runs, to start off my long awaited long weekend. I can't help the fact that cellulite has been accumulating in this particularly small frame of mine, especially at my abdominal region. I'm fat and perhaps the islands that I long for will remain submerged under the sea of cellulite. Argh. Genes can be such a terrible disease.

I think I will be stuck at home for the next few days, given the fact that there's hardly anyone to go out with, plus the thought of spending copious amounts of money on entertainment just breaks my heart. Army doesn't pay well you know. In place though will be Theme Hospital to entertain me with it's bizarre diseases - bloated heads, long tongues, invisibility etc. Running a hospital perhaps would give me some experience before I get posted out as a medic (like it would actually help, whatever!).

And finally, after a protracted period of time, ie 9 weeks, I'm finally graduating from my medic course and on my way to becoming a full-fledged medic. It's time for a dose of Deja-vu, as mixed emotions come flooding in, nostalgia and the feeling of finally emerging as a man, metamorphosised from a chao recruit/trainee. A trainee, by the way, is ranked at the very end of the caste (rank) system of this organisation.

I've had a busy week going through the combat phase of my course. Putting back on my SBO, helmet and rifle isn't really a morale booster, especially when everything just stinks of sweat, sweat, and dried up sweat. How gross can that be. Outfield isn't my cup of tea either - the smell of grass irks me and the sun only does it job when I'm lying down next to my pool getting a tan; other than that, it's just plain irritating.

I did my last IV yesterday and fulfilled the criteria of completing 10 successful IVs. Frankly, I've grown to love puncturing someone else's skin, pushing a needle (the size and diameter of a yakult straw) in and watching out for backflow (a sign that I've hit a vein). That said, I don't exclude the fun and excitement of lending an arm. Watching the need pierce through your skin, feeling the catheter being pushed into your vein, now that's a feeling that, to some extent, makes you "high". Talk about sadistic pleasure eh. Anyway, if anyone is willing to try, I'm always happy to showcase my skills - I've missed only once so far on my otherwise unblemished record (winks).

Meanwhile, I shall await the day I graduate from the School of Military Medicine and stay there as temporary support staff until I get posted to my unit on America's Independence day. Slack slack slack (well hopefully). Finally, maybe some time to get those abs I've always dreamed of.

Life goes on

Life goes on as it is, day by day, hour by hour, second by second.

The end of my course is nearing and 9 weeks as a trainee in the School of Military Medicine has whizzed past in a blink of an eye. I didn't really expect it to be over so soon given the fact that 9 weeks doesn't really sound as if it's a short period of time. Sounds cliche? Indeed. Yet it is a vicious cycle, of dread in the beginning, of non-chalence in the middle and of deja-vu when the end seems near. How many times have we expressed such similar thoughts? Primary 6? Secondary 4? J2? Oh the sense of nostalgia that's creeping over me!

The course isn't over yet though; I do look forward to and expect a physically demanding week which will conclude the course. This week was interesting - I experienced chemical defence training, including the wearing of gas masks, donning of MOP suits and a short stint at Seletar camp where I faced the onslaught of tear gas. "We make grown men cry" was the name of the operation and indeed, it was self-fulfilling.

However, before my dear readers jump to the conclusion that it was an endurance test conducted in a smoke-filled room where invisibility is absolutely zero, a la Fear Factor style, let me clear the air (pun intended) of any misunderstanding. Firstly, the tear gas was produced by placing a CS pallet onto a hot place which combusted to produce the gas itself. Second, the smoke was minimal and there was absolutely no visibility problems.

To sum it up, the experience wasn't as daunting as I imagined it to be but nonetheless, one which I can boast about and an added story to be told to my future grandchildren. Tear gas, I must admit, irritates the hell out of you as it burns your skins and stings your eyes. These were the effects that I suffered as I boldly took off my mask, recited my name, rank and IC number, before heading towards the door to the external environment, where the free good fresh air never smelled so good.

Onto the next subject. I now have a new cousin! My aunt just gave birth to a boy and he isn't very adorable at the moment. Frankly, newborns are not cute and if anyone has seen a newborn literally, it would be akin to taking out a scene from the movie SPECIES, inclusive of the slime and grossology displayed. Not to mention, my aunt is in the process of figuring out how to shape up after her pregnancy. I almost burst out laughing when I observed that she had expanded to about twice her size, resembling a fat snowman or snowoman for that matter. Anyhow, the dynamic duo certainly made for a visual spectacle. (I AM SO EVIL). Oh, before I forget to mention, I was reading one of those pregnancy books stashed at a corner and saw tons of breast and a series of pictures with a horrifying little creature emerging from what is known as the vagina. I can't imagine anything of such massive proportions emerging from any cavity found in my body that leads to the external environment. Ouch.

Oh well, I shall see what response this entry will elicit.

A long weekend...

I haven't had the opportunity of fetching my younger brother home ever since he was in kindergarden; Today, this "honour" supposedly came knocking on my door early in the morning at nine plus, while I was still enjoying the joys of slumberland. The reason? My sister was too lazy to drag her cellulite-laden posterior out of the house. Enough said. Relunctantly, I dragged myself out of bed, fearing the very worst may happen to that over-grown child (who's gradually turning into a gigantic ball of blubber), grappling with the possibility that he may become one of those candidates featured in the local show, MISSING.

Wow, I seem be a great brother eh? Perhaps. Link me up with one of the evil step-sisters in Cinderella one of these days - I'm positively sure that I'll fit in with them perfectly. But frankly, I don't suppose I have much of a relationship with that other homosapien born slightly less than a decade after me; the ride home was devoid of any conversation as there was hardly anything in common to talk about, and an impending sense that any word that came out from me would be either a snide remark, or a rude attempt to keep that little creature (pardon my contradiction, I admit, 'little' isn't really the correct word to describe him). I eventually reasoned with myself that if we profess to love God, we should love our brothers, because God is love plus the fact that I should return the favour(s) which Dad had sacrificed his time to send me to various places, especially for my interviews. I must be the world's most evil brother. Oh bother.

One must have thought through what one might do during this long weekend - I was no exception. Unfortunately, my plans were scuppered by the state, in what I deem is a conspiracy to thwart any of my hedonistic attempts to relax and recreate, with an added call of duty, scheduling me for fire piquet (which most in that stupid organisation pronounce as picket). Stupid people (rolls eyes). So there you have it, a possibility productive individual sent back to camp to sleep and wait all day, perhaps for divine intervention, that a fire may break out in a part of the building. Frankly, I would be invigorated, grateful, joyful, estatic etc. etc. to see each and every one of the military's camps going up in flames, incinerated and reduced to a big pile of ashes. OH WAIT, I shall publicly retract this statement of mine lest I become AN ENEMY OF THE STATE and sent to the ISD under the ISA, for being a threat to the military establishment.

In my very honest opinion, I believe that there's no need for a fire piquet, unless the state is tacitly pushing forth the notion that our Fire Department is as efficient as it's very own military establishment. Not forgetting, forcing 4 individuals to stand guard 24hrs doing nothing but wait is a complete waste of time, and a clear sign of the demerits of labour markets that are manipulated by the visible hands of the government. I could be taking a course, mugging for a CFA, or perhaps facilitating the flow of income in the economy whilst on a shopping spree, or even better, work at McDonalds as a productive individual and earn SO much more than the measly few cents that the lightning God bestows on hapless young men awaiting the day of freedom and liberty.

Oh well, I am a bitch and I am pissed that my long weekend vanished into thin air witht the arrival of the guard duty schedule. I resign myself to the state and loyally commit to ensuring that I'll fight every fire that arise in any part of the military camp that is supposedly, my home. And yes, let us all stand at attention during the reading of the RO, and going through silly rituals that exonerate the names of those on top, and listening to safety quotes by the COA.

Bullshit.