Staring At A New Ceiling

Writing this feels surreal. And yes, I'm actually writing this paragraph manually with pen and paper to keep myself awake. Why though? After all, I'm still sitting in a lecture theatre in my uniform listening to a daunting lecture and occasionally sneaking a toilet break just to get away from the lecturer for a bit. Sounds just like a few months ago. Perhaps it's because I've swapped my college uniform for a chemo one, my lecturer's stripping a rifle instead of a poem and my lecture theare is 4 kilometres away from the shore of an island that isn't Singapore.

It definitely feels surreal when your surroundings drastically change within the span of days. At least it wasn't as drastic as last year. Within months, during the nights I would stare from my bedroom ceiling, to the night spots of Singapore, to the army bunk, to the hospital ward, then back to my lecture theatre. Disorienting would be an understatement. But it wasn't that bad this year, since I already knew what to expect, so the change didn't come as a shock.

Waking up to a different ceiling provokes a most curious response to different people. Being a morning bird, I had the chance to see the reactions of my section mates when they wake up. Some jolt awake in shock at the what-the-fuckness of the situation, their stares screaming how the hell did I get here. While others prefer to stay in denial and hope that snoozing for a few extra minutes will change the ceiling back to their familiar bedroom.

Most of all, staring at the ceiling of my bunk gives me a strange sense of reality. Penning down my thoughts seem surreal at first as it still felt like a deja vu, like I've been lifted off the pages of my life and re-reading it again from the previous chapter. But as the days pass, staring at this new ceiling feels strangely new. I'm waking up to a new day and getting closer where I previously left off.

Sure, the days will only get tougher and more unexpected, but what is life without a little thrill? I bet the Oracle from the Matrix lives her day rolling her eyes constantly from the boredom of knowing what comes next. So I start this new year proper, with a change in surrounding, physique (no more broken leg) and attitude. I start the day afresh from my 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Welcome to the army, soldier.

Hell of A Holiday

At the end of the A levels, I came up with a to-do list of activities, tasks and objectives that have to be met by the time I enlist. Just like Jim Carey in 'Yes Man', that list made me say yes to everything. And true to that film, it brought me to places and experiences that I would never have otherwise achieved. Say it once, say it twice, say it a million times more! Yes! Yes! Yes! It's quite an irony for the actor of Jigsaw in the Saw series to be playing a life coach in Yes Man, but the essence of the message is true. If you grab every opportunity that arises, you won't miss out on much.

Some people say that I'm living my last days as a civilian as if they truly are my last. I couldn't help but agree, seeing how my daily schedule quickly turns into a paradox as I try to cram in things. But I'm a man with a list to finish and not much time to do it. Some say I shouldn't rush everything, but why delay? Plan like you live forever, but live like there's no tomorrow, as a cancer patient once told me. Besides, it won't be long before I'm officially reaching adulthood and youth doesn't last forever.

When you set out with an objective to fill up every inch of your time, you'll realise that you don't really have to do all the planning. It would settle itself. For Christmas eve, I was more than set to spend it hibernating until Christmas morning since I was exhausted. Instead I woke up to a ringing phone with an invitation out on the line and six other text messages with similar invitations. There goes my hibernation plans.

I always thought that the closer it is to enlistment day, the slower time would seem to me, as what I experienced before. But this time it was really different. Time seems distorted in a way that it picks up momentum and speeds up, just that I'm having enhanced reflexes to pick up all the sensations along the way. It's a fantastically exhilarating experience to wake up in the morning to wake up to a text invitation in the morning, have brunch in town before you know it, off in the middle off the sea at midday, and end up having dinner across the straits at night.

All play and no work makes Jack a tired boy. A very tired one. While doing one fun stuff after another is a thrilling idea, actually doing them all consecutively is highly exhausting, as I've discovered. There were weeks when I would have less than ten hours of sleep for the entire week due to back to back chalets and midnight taunts. It came to a point when I was positively beaten senseless, but thinking back to stories from my diver friends of their 'hell week', I found it rather easy to brush them off aside.

With all that time and a dying pool of ideas, you start to look at every little creek of Singapore to squeeze whatever adventures and thrills it can offer. If you look carefully enough, you'd be amazed at what 'lil ol Singapore has to offer. There are still long stretches of greenery to cycle and trek at. And being an island city, there are numerous water sports like canoeing, wake boarding, sailing and parasurfing (I'm not sure what it's called, it's where you ride on a 'surf board' while being pulled by a parachute). This tropical metropolis even offer ice-skating and ice hockey for those who don't mind a chill. For group activities, there are a handful of boardgame cafes, karaoke lounges and LAN gaming centres to entertain the masses. See, outings don't have to be just about eating, even though that really is a Singaporean culture.

Some people get a little creeped out by this over-extrovertedness, as if I'm living the last day of my life. Well, it does seem like what a cancer patient would do. I guess if I were to die now, I'll die happy. But my personal motive was simply to connect back with the people that I have missed out on. Having a whole new school of friends, the exams to focus on, and now national service to face, I couldn't help but block out some people. However, it is not characteristic of me to disregard people, since I value friendship more than anything else in the world. There has to be some point in time where I get to experience everybody, without missing out on any one of them. So I dug out whatever time I could spare and gave a bit to everyone. Call it bringing my college life to full circle, I still relish the memories that has been created with everyone that I call friend.

And that, my friend, is how you end up with a holiday not wasted. The world holds an infinite list of things to do for everyone. Why not incorporate that into your own personal to-do list during your next holiday. 

They say your life flashes past your eyes before you die. They're right.

It's called living.

The Road Warriors

Now that my chapter of becoming a road warrior is over, I have finally come to finish my chronicle my encounters. According to modern lingo, a road warrior is someone who does his work on the move, with the help of digital peripherals. But in my opinion, the true road warriors are those whose work is on the road. They are the taxi drivers, the lorry drivers, the army drivers, and of course, the driving instructors.

Like all teens my age, or at least the male ones, we have a calling for the fast and the furious. We have an inner desire to be speedsters, to take on the wheel and flash by. Such a calling has brought me to take on the first step into being a speedster – to face the evil traffic police and the trials put forth by the army of instructors.

The funny thing about instructors is that they all seem to be quirky. Having enrolled in the 'school' system, I was fortunate to have a fixed group of instructors, but with my last minute bookings, I was often allocated to other instructors. That makes for a more 'enriching' experience, as I get to see the quirks of a handful of instructors.

One thing to note about these instructors is that they all have the instructor set of superhuman powers. Firstly, they have shared vision – the ability to see exactly what you are seeing. They can be fiddling with their pens, or even shaving (yes, believe it. I almost crashed when I saw him doing it), but the moment you take your eyes off the road, you'll get a “Eh, you drive no need to see is it?”. They can even tell if you're looking at the right mirror or not. All of them must have gone through lasik to get compound eyes or something. And then there's the spider senses, you know, like spiderman. They can anticipate danger without even looking. There was this one time, when I was about to take a corner turn, then the instructor e-braked the car. I just gave him a puzzled look, but he replied by pointing to the edge of the windscreen and out popped an old man about to cross the street, as if he was planted there. I swear that these instructors station pedestrians around on purpose.

These instructors are truly diverse. There are the really nice ones – like this very uncle type instructor who coaches me as if I'm a little schoolboy. Kinda childish, but his fatherly mannerism makes you feel assured and safe on the road. Then there are those who gets closer to you by acting as your buddy. Like my unforgettable favourite instructor who first greeted me with a very warm “fuck you lah”. And that my friend, is how you start a beautiful friendship. Despite his less courteous ways, he makes up for it by having a whole bag of tricks up his sleeve. It's these tips and tricks that you want to know to get you through the senseless driving courses, like how to brake smoothly and where to look to straighten the vehicle. Then there was this instructor who looked exactly like my BMT IFC instructor. When I first met him, I was kinda intimidated as he was a big bald guy, and his other lookalike was my former company's public enemy. But before I knew it, he flashed me a dorky smile and gave a hysterical chuckle. Definitely not corporal private enemy.

And then there are the instructors who are just a nightmare. First there's mister sleepyhead. It's irritating when your instructor sleeps on the job. Firstly it's not value for money, since you pay tons for an hour and forty minutes with them. When faced with these buggers, I can't help driving in the circuit at 40km/p and doing jerky turns. It kinda attracts the attention of other instructors. Up next are the super paranoid ones. You can tell they're this type if they keep their foot on the brake, arms crossed and eyes peeled as if they're looking out for the grim reaper. I know it's good to play safe, but how can a trainee drive confidently if the instructor regularly tests the efficiency of the car's braking system?

Having seen things from a driver's perspective gives you certain insight into the mentality of a driver. For instance, while I was jogging, I discovered a highly efficient method of stopping cars. Stare straight into the eyes of the motorist. Nothing scares them more than to potentially see the eyes of a victim if they were to knock you down. Give them that look that says “If you knock me down, these eyes will haunt you till your grave”. Works like a charm.

Seeing the cars zoom by while jogging also provoked some consideration as to what colour my car should be when I get it. I've settled on a dark red. Not the bright cheery red, but the dark bloody type. The red not like that of fresh blood, but of dried blood. Kinda sends out the message to other drivers that this car has tasted blood. That's way cooler than the Ferrari red.

So next time when you see a sinister red car humming by, scurry away. Your blood could be next.