I'm not just a failed combatant; I'm also failed in traversing office politics.
-
Perhaps what I did there was impulsive.
But it was honest, and the sentiment had to be expressed eventually.
It started out with an innocuous question about whether I wanted to go Taiwan if afforded a choice. Honestly though I didn't know the answer. This is where the volume of my verbal exchanges got me into trouble. Warrant Maran overheard and asked me about my ambivalence towards going to Taiwan. Pros (talking about going to a new country and all the excitment involved) went fine. It was only when I started on the cons did I start treading on grey territory.
I admitted bluntly that OOC life there wouldn't be very good and he immediately questioned my dedication to Echo. That was when I realised that I had accidentally landed myself in a minefield. One which did not sit comfortably with the dynamics of office politics, be it corporate or military.
The truth hurts. And triggers instinctive defensive mechanisms. That was what happened with Encik. He guarded or rather turned my confession against me using guilt-tripping and and gratitude-arousement. What with OC supporting the decision to OOC me quickly and proffering to me a stint in HQ. It was all very attractive but I knew better (that such a choice was loaded). In that quagmire, I had to cut my losses and conceded defeat by apologising for my bluntness. He reciprocated though and even one-upped me by claiming that his declarations had been more frank.
Such a complicated character. I've always thought that I'd have the resources to weasel my way out of most sticky situations even though I am aware that I still harbour some really childish mentalities. Encik is in another league though and reminds me of my father in some ways. Both lack substantive formal education but their minds have been groomed to tackle and thrive in most social settings. They are able to twist words and deflect arguments with grounded layman logic that puts esoteric sophistication to shame. I would be left though-provoked and bewildered as usual.
In retrospect, there are two lessons to take away - I need to learn to control my thoughts and feelings better. Sure, I have at my disposal the ability to express myself in paper and speech. What I lack though is the ability to direct this ability to my advantage in communication. I could be better really and grasp better control.
From this angle, I have to thank Encik for moulding me to be a better person. I can tell that he has kind intentions and that his reprimands, which are usually caustic in nature, are meant to be the vaccination for more vicious and malicious attacks we may face in future. This should really inspire me to respect him and challenge my adamant stance on usurping as much time from this establishment as possible. But I still struggle with this dilemma everyday, especially after the latest posting when the Establishment incinerated my wings and sent me tumbling to the ground. I wouldn't say hell because Infantry Pro-Term is a much more desirable fate for a huge proportion of the world population given their current circumstances. I digress and this material should be saved for a different story in future.
The next learning point would be to never under-estimate your opponent. What's more is that I've received feedback on how formidable Warrant Maran can be with his words. Yet being the stubborn, arrogant and ignorant mule that I was, I didn't deign to heed the calls of those who had come before me. And now I'm paying the price for not listening.
-
There are so many more incidents that have happened here which can served as cautionary tales in my journey through the samsara.
I am relying on the dictionary to clarify even the simplest of words. I prefer to think that I'm on the quest of sharpening my vocabulary to pump more oomph into the most common words of all: those everyday words we take for granted too often.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Meditation in Movement
Twitter has always been one of my favourite platforms for keeping up with the lives of those whom I follow as well as an avenue for me to satiate a dormant attention-seeking tendency. Yet for all the quips I make, I've never made one directly expressing my active participation in yoga.
Its not as if I'm ashamed of my involvement in an activity normally skewed towards the fairer sex (well, it so happens that most young men don't empathise with this exactly too) There are some things in life that are such an innate part of you(r soul) that you conceal it from the world to preserve its integrity. Of course I've had to tell my immediate family and close friends where a precious chunk of my weekend goes but that's about it really.
I'm writing about this now because a good 9 months have passed since I embarked on this journey and I want to document it and assess the progress made. As far as I am aware, there weren't any remarkable physical, mental, spiritual and emotional changes in me. But that's not to say that yoga hasn't been effective. For one, my commitment has been vacillating, with lull periods coinciding with intense military training and vice versa. The most conspicuous 2-month absence was during my initiation into the army and my time in Tekong. It doesn't help that I'm natually averse to physical training and lack the discipline to even put myself through basic sun salutations on a regular basis when left unsupervised.
Its the reason why I signed up for "an expensive and exclusive luxury unbefitting of someone from your socio-economic class". I've taken the liberty here to paraphrase my mother's sentiments. True it was exorbitant and I could barely afford it but there was a force egging my mind on to sign the contract and my savings away. What the force really is is something I'm clueless about but I'm hoping that it hasn't got much to do with me falling prey to the tactics of experienced salesmen. It would be nice to think that this force predicated on a natural inclination to restore balance to a stress-ravaged being.
Ankan was a wonderful and effective teacher and I daresay that his involvement in the Serangoon Gardens branch was a powerful incentive to take the plunge. Perhaps I've been immersing myself in too much Tibetan Buddhism and HK drama series but there's something inherently seductive in believing that karma and fate (or 缘分) had a hand in our meeting. Or maybe it's just my unique profile in a class otherwise normally filled with seasoned housewives and the occasional businessman.
Whatever the case, the special attention which he showered upon me (and thus the implied greater care) was something I truly appreciated. The pace of his class was usually fast and it gave me the workout that I would otherwise never have done. Usually, we would be transitting quickly from one posture to another and this suited my impatient nature and a resistance to maintaing a pose for too long out of pain and instability. His strong accent made it difficult for us to communicate verbally though and I must claim the greater fault for my poor listening skills.
And so it came as a shock when I learned just a week in advance that he would be referring to Calcutta. "I signed up for him!" was the mantra which the class stuck by, a mantra which too applied to me. His farewell party was simple and attended by a coterie of grateful students from all (ok, definitely skewed towards the upper) walks of life. With more than 20 classes left to clear, it was evident that I would have to get used to another instructor.
So get used I did. Susan's profile was much different from that of Ankan's. A middle-aged self-declared outdoor lover with native roots, she was by most accounts easier on my ears than Ankan ever was. Her classes tended to focus on proper alignment and posture of poses and traded off the myriad of stances that Ankan would try to pack in the same amount of time. While I had thoroughly enjoyed Ankan's classes and appreciated the sweat and exertion in its aftermath, I never really understood why or what I was doing. The rest of the class constituted 'amateurs' who knowingly bent and twisted themselves accordingly and I was just too embarrassed to acknowledge my ignorance to slow down the pace of the class for the majority.
After two consecutive classes when much was devoted to the explanation and correction of basic moves, I felt as if I had a greater conscious awareness of what I was doing. My body would usually take longer than most to adapt to foreign contortions but Ankan's painstaking guidance had not gone to waste. Though most of my core muscle groups were weak and my movements were shaky in general, the fluidity in attaining the correct postures was present. Freshly inspired to reach new heights with my practice, I am now looking forward to regular Sunday classes with Susan.
My new deployment is not helping matters though. Whatever the case, what will give bang for my (750)buck(s) is a renewed commitment to make myself a better person by following the philosophy of a 5000-year tradition.
Its not as if I'm ashamed of my involvement in an activity normally skewed towards the fairer sex (well, it so happens that most young men don't empathise with this exactly too) There are some things in life that are such an innate part of you(r soul) that you conceal it from the world to preserve its integrity. Of course I've had to tell my immediate family and close friends where a precious chunk of my weekend goes but that's about it really.
I'm writing about this now because a good 9 months have passed since I embarked on this journey and I want to document it and assess the progress made. As far as I am aware, there weren't any remarkable physical, mental, spiritual and emotional changes in me. But that's not to say that yoga hasn't been effective. For one, my commitment has been vacillating, with lull periods coinciding with intense military training and vice versa. The most conspicuous 2-month absence was during my initiation into the army and my time in Tekong. It doesn't help that I'm natually averse to physical training and lack the discipline to even put myself through basic sun salutations on a regular basis when left unsupervised.
Its the reason why I signed up for "an expensive and exclusive luxury unbefitting of someone from your socio-economic class". I've taken the liberty here to paraphrase my mother's sentiments. True it was exorbitant and I could barely afford it but there was a force egging my mind on to sign the contract and my savings away. What the force really is is something I'm clueless about but I'm hoping that it hasn't got much to do with me falling prey to the tactics of experienced salesmen. It would be nice to think that this force predicated on a natural inclination to restore balance to a stress-ravaged being.
Ankan was a wonderful and effective teacher and I daresay that his involvement in the Serangoon Gardens branch was a powerful incentive to take the plunge. Perhaps I've been immersing myself in too much Tibetan Buddhism and HK drama series but there's something inherently seductive in believing that karma and fate (or 缘分) had a hand in our meeting. Or maybe it's just my unique profile in a class otherwise normally filled with seasoned housewives and the occasional businessman.
Whatever the case, the special attention which he showered upon me (and thus the implied greater care) was something I truly appreciated. The pace of his class was usually fast and it gave me the workout that I would otherwise never have done. Usually, we would be transitting quickly from one posture to another and this suited my impatient nature and a resistance to maintaing a pose for too long out of pain and instability. His strong accent made it difficult for us to communicate verbally though and I must claim the greater fault for my poor listening skills.
And so it came as a shock when I learned just a week in advance that he would be referring to Calcutta. "I signed up for him!" was the mantra which the class stuck by, a mantra which too applied to me. His farewell party was simple and attended by a coterie of grateful students from all (ok, definitely skewed towards the upper) walks of life. With more than 20 classes left to clear, it was evident that I would have to get used to another instructor.
So get used I did. Susan's profile was much different from that of Ankan's. A middle-aged self-declared outdoor lover with native roots, she was by most accounts easier on my ears than Ankan ever was. Her classes tended to focus on proper alignment and posture of poses and traded off the myriad of stances that Ankan would try to pack in the same amount of time. While I had thoroughly enjoyed Ankan's classes and appreciated the sweat and exertion in its aftermath, I never really understood why or what I was doing. The rest of the class constituted 'amateurs' who knowingly bent and twisted themselves accordingly and I was just too embarrassed to acknowledge my ignorance to slow down the pace of the class for the majority.
After two consecutive classes when much was devoted to the explanation and correction of basic moves, I felt as if I had a greater conscious awareness of what I was doing. My body would usually take longer than most to adapt to foreign contortions but Ankan's painstaking guidance had not gone to waste. Though most of my core muscle groups were weak and my movements were shaky in general, the fluidity in attaining the correct postures was present. Freshly inspired to reach new heights with my practice, I am now looking forward to regular Sunday classes with Susan.
My new deployment is not helping matters though. Whatever the case, what will give bang for my (750)buck(s) is a renewed commitment to make myself a better person by following the philosophy of a 5000-year tradition.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Words from the past #1
I spent the large part of this afternoon imparting to my sister my tricks in scoring well in English. The sentimental being in me decided that it would also be a good time to review my past works.
So here's a piece that I wrote four years ago. The first part was an eerily (in)accurate foreshadow of current events. (well, we'll see about the oxford and buff physique part haha)
-
I was what people call an ambitious young man.
Barely out of my teens, I had just completed my National Service stint, a compulsory term of two years commonly dubbed as a rite of passage for boys. It had been an incredible two years and I had emerged unscathed and had develop a buff physique at that. The future looked bright for me, just like the shiny crest of Oxford University embossed in my letter of admission. Like most young hot-blooded men, I wanted to pursue the elusive 5 'C's, the local standard of status symbol. It includes cash, condominium, career, car and credit card but for me, there was another C and it stood for Celest, my beautiful girlfriend.
Life seemed like a bed of roses as I pursued this 5 'C's relentlessly. This translated into taking up many part-time jobs to earn as much money as possible before my entry to university. My parents, ordinary folks who were going to fork out every cent in their savings to pay for my pricey education were supportive of my multiple jobs. It put food on the table and that was all that mattered.
Yet it was not enough for me, I yearned more. Even Celest, who was already irritated that my jobs cost me couple time with her, had a tolerance level. Upon knowing that I was going to take even more jobs to satisfy my lust for the 5 'C's, she ditched me in the form of a scribbled note pasted on the door of the refreigerator because she knew that she had no more patience for my activities.
Her departure came as a blow to me but my resolution never faltered.
I continued to work hard in pursuit of more cash. To forget her, I put in more hard work than I ever had. Still, the meagre earnings from being a part-time tutor, part-time cashier and part-time waiter were still insufficient. In my mind was a picture of me relaxing in a rented apartment next to the university all by myself.
This was not enough. The goals I craved to fulfil would not be fulfilled if my schedule went on like this for the rest of the month before my departure to one of Britain's finest universities.
I resorted to illegal means. The smuggling of drugs was so much more lucrative. Desire blinded my conscious and morphed me into a creature I could not recognise.
One day just before I was about to depart, I saw Celest walking along Orchard Road with another guy, holding hands.
That was what broke me. I collapsed onto the middle of the road and started wailing. What had I become? Was that monster in the mirror really me?
Passers-by approached me and began offering assistance. Yet I only had one request. I need to find myself, my true self.
"Could you direct me to the nearest police station? Thank you very much."
With that I expelled the demons of desire within me.
-
For an EOY piece I did in Sec 3, it's pretty decent. :)
So here's a piece that I wrote four years ago. The first part was an eerily (in)accurate foreshadow of current events. (well, we'll see about the oxford and buff physique part haha)
-
I was what people call an ambitious young man.
Barely out of my teens, I had just completed my National Service stint, a compulsory term of two years commonly dubbed as a rite of passage for boys. It had been an incredible two years and I had emerged unscathed and had develop a buff physique at that. The future looked bright for me, just like the shiny crest of Oxford University embossed in my letter of admission. Like most young hot-blooded men, I wanted to pursue the elusive 5 'C's, the local standard of status symbol. It includes cash, condominium, career, car and credit card but for me, there was another C and it stood for Celest, my beautiful girlfriend.
Life seemed like a bed of roses as I pursued this 5 'C's relentlessly. This translated into taking up many part-time jobs to earn as much money as possible before my entry to university. My parents, ordinary folks who were going to fork out every cent in their savings to pay for my pricey education were supportive of my multiple jobs. It put food on the table and that was all that mattered.
Yet it was not enough for me, I yearned more. Even Celest, who was already irritated that my jobs cost me couple time with her, had a tolerance level. Upon knowing that I was going to take even more jobs to satisfy my lust for the 5 'C's, she ditched me in the form of a scribbled note pasted on the door of the refreigerator because she knew that she had no more patience for my activities.
Her departure came as a blow to me but my resolution never faltered.
I continued to work hard in pursuit of more cash. To forget her, I put in more hard work than I ever had. Still, the meagre earnings from being a part-time tutor, part-time cashier and part-time waiter were still insufficient. In my mind was a picture of me relaxing in a rented apartment next to the university all by myself.
This was not enough. The goals I craved to fulfil would not be fulfilled if my schedule went on like this for the rest of the month before my departure to one of Britain's finest universities.
I resorted to illegal means. The smuggling of drugs was so much more lucrative. Desire blinded my conscious and morphed me into a creature I could not recognise.
One day just before I was about to depart, I saw Celest walking along Orchard Road with another guy, holding hands.
That was what broke me. I collapsed onto the middle of the road and started wailing. What had I become? Was that monster in the mirror really me?
Passers-by approached me and began offering assistance. Yet I only had one request. I need to find myself, my true self.
"Could you direct me to the nearest police station? Thank you very much."
With that I expelled the demons of desire within me.
-
For an EOY piece I did in Sec 3, it's pretty decent. :)
Friday, September 13, 2013
"Once Armour Always Armour"
Lies.
If that was truly, then I wouldn't lose my best OOC-mate (or NS-mate for that matter) on the last day of July.
Then I wouldn't have to be posted back to Pasir Laba Camp for Infantry Professional Term.
The timing couldn't have been better really because it 'coincides' with the very first day of pro-term for the cadets who enlisted a few months later. Honestly HQARMOUR, my new home, is doing this to me three weeks after my first posting here.
I feel betrayed and disappointed. It's not all that sobering or shocking though because I've kinda expected this after they told me that my security clearance didn't pass.
Not going to lose sleep over this. Not going to let the military run my life for me.
The two years is all that you're gonna take. Nothing else.
If that was truly, then I wouldn't lose my best OOC-mate (or NS-mate for that matter) on the last day of July.
Then I wouldn't have to be posted back to Pasir Laba Camp for Infantry Professional Term.
The timing couldn't have been better really because it 'coincides' with the very first day of pro-term for the cadets who enlisted a few months later. Honestly HQARMOUR, my new home, is doing this to me three weeks after my first posting here.
I feel betrayed and disappointed. It's not all that sobering or shocking though because I've kinda expected this after they told me that my security clearance didn't pass.
Not going to lose sleep over this. Not going to let the military run my life for me.
The two years is all that you're gonna take. Nothing else.
Sunday, September 8, 2013
A fistful of stances
| S$16 for the rental and one night of sleeping at ungodly hours. But it's worth it nonetheless. |
From a more remote past to a more recent past
 |
| More than 3 years ago, |
 |
| Just 2 days ago, still as close as ever. :) |
"Jin Hu!"
From drifting aimlessly, my mind swooped back to reality, triggered by my heart skipping a beat at a thoroughly unexpected situation. There was a slight chance that you might bump into someone as you pass the walkway of NUS's medical faculty but someone who didn't even matriculate in NUS?
Yes, I bumped into Cher (after having seen her just five days ago). We talked a bit about the reasons for our chance coincidence there and touched a little about shares. Maybe I was distracted by my dinner reunion with Adelynn and Yew Rong but I just didn't seem to be in the mood to talk or maybe because the dynamics between Cher and myself has always been like that when it's just the two of us talking. Whatever the case, I left soon after because I felt a little awkward (not least because Jody popped up later).
Was I thinking very hard about what dinner with the girls would be like? Sure, I've met them last year and things still seemed pretty tight then. But that happened to be night when Anderson Choir had its concert two years after we had our Voices III, the latter of which I had much more stake in. That was one hark back to the old days: em-ceeing with Jesslynn, seeing the juniors as well as talking to Ms Lim for perhaps the last time. We had choir as a bonding topic but now, we'd be meeting when for the past three years, there was no common thread...but somehow I felt right about initiating this dinner anyway. There was the gut feeling that we'd work out.
And we did. As Yew Rong exited from the MRT gantry, I beamed at her and she reciprocated with her cheerful grin. We had not kept in close contact since our last meeting and our conversation started with the usual small talk on GPAs, career prospects and academic journeys. Adelynn came later with a group of her JC friends but they ambled past us. Preposterous really because I've already signalled that I'll be in the ever-conspicuous smart 4 (it camouflages well in traditional jungles but the same cannot be said for the asphalt jungle) haha. We ended up running rings around her (more literal than figurative and even for figurative should refer only to her spatial awareness hehe) before we gave up laughing and stared at her right in the face.
Yew Rong was breaking out in laughing fits by then as she clutched onto my arm. I can still imagine the look on Adelynn's face when she gave me a nudge and a mask of annoyance for ignoring her calls and texts. It felt like old times. It felt like being at home again and at that moment, I realised how much I really missed them. :)
I could go on with a minute-by-minute account except for the fact that I cannot recall the exact sequence of our conversational topics. They were rather wide-ranging and there were barely any breaks in our exchanges for us to seriously ponder about what we said until we alighted from our respective train stations. There were some special moments here and there though.
One of which is the time when Yew Rong took a break for the ladies' bathroom, leaving adelynn and me on a bench outside. To be honest, I felt really awkward and didn't know what to do. I have a hunch that she was feeling pretty much the same way. But like me, we pretended that a portion of our past did not exist, a past which excluded Yew Rong. A past that was both tinged with mutual affection and suggested possibilities. So I just stared into her eyes, trying to rekindle what I thought was...nothing happened though and I shrugged off my gaze when she noticed.
Dinner was at Ambush where Yew Rong introduced to all of us what a delicacy a rosti could be (all right to be honest, I kind of mixed up between a rosti and a risotto and it wasn't until the dish was brought in did I realise the difference. xP) Between savouring the giant sausages and choking on the exotic (but honestly repugnant to my taste-buds) greens which the girls lapped on my plate, I was actively discussing strategies for studying Economics with the girls. It seems so strange that it was only a year ago when mugging for the all-important 'A' levels was the central focus of my life. And how one year later, I've forgotten almost everything and all that studying just seems so remote. A lot has changed. Not least the choice of dining. In the past, it could have just been the Anderson Secondary School canteen where we ordered what we liked individually and chomped down our meal before rushing back for choir. Now, we took the liberty to choose a fairly decent European dining outlet which came at an enormous price tag. Payment options have broadened to treats instead of the student protocol of going Dutch.
These are the little things but they strike me all the same. The dynamics of our camaraderie remain authentic and thoroughly enjoyable and for that I'm thankful. It seemed to me that all of us have grown up in some sense are walking different and diverging paths. And that what's keeping us together are the memories that we've shared in our formative years, and our desire to relive them. There's nothing wrong with that though because it is in the review of our shared experiences that we realise that we still care for one another even though we technically no longer have to since we don't belong to Anderson Choir anymore. Such a precious quality is perhaps only evident with the test of time and distance. I don't know whether I can say the same things for many others, but at least I'm able to do so for my longest friends in Anderson Choir.
Thank you. :)
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