we cannot change the cards we are dealt,
just how we play the hand.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
3:57 AM
Twenty
the novelty has worn down. like a vodka shot of lime. it starts off as a nasty liquid swirling at the tongue, before swishing down the throat, enveloping a warm sensation all over. and then before you could taste the end of it, its gone. leaving you the same familiar coldness before it all began.
but i digress. turning 20 ain't as nasty as that vodka shot of lime. quoting lemony snicket its just about walking up that old creaky stair in the middle of a dark clammy night, air all still and stale, and you suddenly plunge upon the last step, not knowing the series of stair had ended, heart plunging along with the feet, and you catch yourself before a hiss of relief escapes the lips.
yes, its been rudely snatched from me, teenagehood and youth. but am i glad the first moments of my twenties (oh gracious, yucks.) had been defined by the things i loved most and been most loved by.
thank you pals, dudes and babes, angels and demons, humans and nots.
and to my darling, i am so loved i make myself sick. you have made a miracle out of nothing, and for that i go to prayer each night hands clasped and lips silent upon a sacred moment, thanking God for you, just you.
i'm twenty. yawn. bloody twenty. its time to grow up.
the voices in my head-
Monday, June 20, 2005
2:58 AM
SPITFIRE
its been three days. and its just about settled down now. the unmistakable pain, the lingering memories, the whisking of my teenagehood, the impending sword. it all sums up like a dime dropped carelessly onto a puddle, or a casio xslim upon a yarra river for that matter, a single moment hung weightlessly before it comes crashing all onto you.
taiwan was horrible. painful even. i would spin and spank the next puddyboy who exclaims that signal officers are slack, and not stop at that, i would pull down his pants and stuff my radio antenna into his ass. infantry was peanuts to our summary exercise.. whoever walks 72km with a PRC138 or 900 series upon his back, on top of 36 hours rations and a humoboogeybiggy sleeping bag and a blue doopy rifle on top of a standard pack (that sums to a third of my humoboogeybiggy weight), and my legs haven't been so tortured before. exercise SPITFIRE was outright scourge.
but it was good. i have had three great friends stick with me through SPITFIRE, and it was an honour, and a privilege to have been tortured with them. choice given, i wouldn't have taken anyone else along this journey with me.
and i must admit, SPITFIRE has this endearing charm about itself. i have learnt a great deal about myself, and about beginnings and ends, about minds and legs, about winnings and not.
SPITFIRE was a game where each end was a beginning, and each beginning was masked like an end. you know not when it ends, and a new chapter unfolds after each station is completed. the commanders were fucking with our minds, and we knew it. and it was in such moments that nothing mattered anymore, what could possibly push us on was the grit face of determination of the man on your left and right.
and i never knew that much about my mind. those bulging muscles beneath the calf ain't bout the most delicious things i could savour after 4 years on the courts, it brought me no further than 30km, for it started to convulse in the absence of much needed salt. the next 40km was a test of the mind, a nagging thought at the back that attempts to thwart with yet another voice at the back of the head, "yawn, you're tired old pal" , "don't give up, push on kit" , "who gives a flying fark" .. and it drives you crazy. hearing two mutants duelling behind you for an eternal moonshine of an exhausted mind. but like all things evolve, the mind develops haphazardly a syllabus of walking. a certain doctrine. the sort of walk where you focus upon a farfaraway object and everything else around turns into a misty haze, somewhat ethereal and sepulchral. and with that you could think of happy thoughts. so like harry potter and his stag-like patronus, which takes the pain away. its in such defining moments of blessings that i could uncover the form of my patronus, and it resembles the most innocent of angels.
given four waikits i would say i would have wrapped that SPITFIRE challenge under my chinny chin chin like a piece of cake, but 2 days and a night of endless trek has made me realise life ain't all bout winning. its about being cool in the face of adversity, and helping your mates out as their legs take the toll on them. don't thank me for carrying 2 fieldpacks and 2 webbings and 2 rifles, i thank you for your enlivening and animation that carried me through SPITFIRE with a smile on the face.
and that, makes us the best team in our hearts.
the voices in my head-
Sunday, June 19, 2005
9:26 AM
Homecoming
a tad browner. yet still thinner. mind way stronger. and a year older.
the voices in my head-
i love my girl. a love so beautiful, symmetrical, tangible
God loves me. a love so great, unconditional, real.
my life in a nutshell. working towards loves of sorts. beautiful, symmetrical, tangible, great, unconditional and real.
a page, deliberately left blank.
Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
I Corinthians 13:4-8
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