When you're living with such a mixed bunch of guys, there is no way not to encounter personalities that couldn't have existed in my relatively sheltered civilian life. While I'm tempted to go all out describing every social misfits I've met, I will need some restrain because this is a public blog and I still need to maintain a certain level of diplomacy because there are still two more weeks of seeing those idiots every single waking hour.

Here's something many people, even seemingly intelligent ones, do: Adjusting accents according to the other party's ethnicity.

WHY? Really, why? Is Rahman not going to understand your English without adding "sials" behind every last word and breaking up your sentences into monosyllabic sounds? Jonathan may be as white-bred as they come but damn it, he understands Singlish! Why do you need to curl your R's anymore than you do normally?

AND WHY ARE YOU SPEAKING IN A MALAY ACCENT TO AN INDIAN GUY? Just because you, Tat Seng, belong to the majority ethnic group in this country, doesn't mean that everyone else just falls under the racial group "Others" and happen to speak with the same accent.

People trying to start a conversation in the toilet

Believe it or not, I do not see the toilet as a place proper for socialising and in fact, I just want to get the fuck out of the place after I've settled my hygiene or bowel-related problems. Trying to start a talk with someone in a male toilet is one of the unspoken social taboos, right up there with picking up girls at a funeral. Unless you're one of the coffin bearers and you have to literally, you know, pick up the dead lady.

I actually had the following conversation taking place a few weeks ago:

Shitfag: HEY, YO!
Me: (Brushing my teeth) Hbrrreyy.
Shitfag: ...Yeah.
Me: (Brushing my teeth)
Shitfag: (Takes out toiletries)
Me: (Brushing my teeth)
Shitfag: (Looks at surroundings, starting to realise how much painful the whole situation is)
Me: (Brushing my teeth)
Shitfag: SO, ELECTRIC TOOTHBRUSH! Wow!
Me: (Brushing my teeth) Ygeah.
Shitfag: ...Yeah.
Me: (Done brushing) Okay I'm done bye see you later electric toothbrushes are great go get one it's cheap bye.

Also, there are people who insist on rinsing their cocks at the basins while others are using it for non-penis related purposes. Please, NOBODY wants to be reminded of your penis when we have a toothbrush and toothpaste in our mouths. It brings up very unpleasant thoughts.

I'm actually quite done ranting for today but don't worry, there are so many more stories from paradise island. I haven't even started on the Downs' yet, such as the Sikh guy whose body went "Ah fuck it" and stopped growing in size while his head continues to very enthusiastically balloon up. It's said that he once fell down and couldn't get up for an hour because of his inconveniently-placed centre of gravity. Doesn't help that he's mentally slow either, some people just get the best out of life.

On a non-Army related note, I'm glad people are still reading this blog. It's a nice feeling to come home to every weekend.

Let me inspire and motivate you

Being in the Army has exposed to lots of motivational and inspirational talks, posters and messages. Obviously, they work, right? I'm sure you've seen one of those glossy posters in a workplace before. It's always a pretty photograph accompanied with optimistic messages and they also function as an indicator of the management's level of intelligence. "Durrr, pin up a mass-produced poster on the wall and my workers can increase productivity magically just by looking at it every single day? YES, SIGN ME UP!"

Pasted on one of the platoon offices is this amazingly motivating message printed on
a piece of A4 printing paper, obviously created by a very linguistically-inclined genius. It goes (in capital Times New Roman, black and white):

EVERYONE HAVE ABILITY.
IT DEPENDS ON HOW YOU USE THEM.

Because of this extremely inspirational message, I was inspired to create my own and I happened to come across this set of photographs about some guy with an obvious growth defect.





































































There you go, these should tide you through the days when you feel like you're receiving the short end of the stick, when you feel like everyone's looking down on you, when you feel like you're being trampled on.

Remember, EVERYONE HAVE ABILITY.

Five hours later and it's Happy Happy Joy Joy Tekong Time (H²J²T²) again. My mind's in a strange state of panic now, I'm devouring every single ounce of non-Army life as much as I can.

Go through blogs in bookmarks. No updates but IT'S OKAY! IT'S GOOD ENOUGH.
Check email inboxes. No new mail BUT IT'S FINE, IT'S FINE, PERFECTLY FINE HEHEHEE.
Log into Facebook. I only have 15 friends on there but OH IT'S GOOD ENOUGH GOOD ENOUGH HEHEHEEEEEHEHEHE.

Yeah, the Army can do strange things to a young man's mind and it's definitely not instilling patriotism and fighting spirit.

Speaking of Facebook, I finally got myself an account because it gives me something else to look forward to on the weekends. But seriously, I'm surprised at how neat and user-friendly everything is. It's not like myspace because there aren't any horrible flashing backgrounds designed specially to induce seizures. Neither is it like Friendster with embedded music that you are FORCED to listen to even though the surface of your ear drums are blistering with pain. Also, surprising lack of alternate-capping! I like.

It also allows you to draw nonsense in the comments section, technology!

It wasn't the easiest thing for me to say but you and I, both need to let go.
What I want now is you to stay sensible.

Dandruff seems to be able to thrive anywhere, even on a fresh Army recruit's bare scalp. What seems like a logical and sensible decision of not bringing shampoo to camp resulted in really annoying head itch after a week or so. Ever since I managed to escape back to the Earthly realms on Thursday, I have Head & Shoulder'd my hair six times and thankfully, I don't have to scrape my scalp with a rake now.

This reminds me of the time my little sister (Avery) got a pretty serious case of head lice and I almost had to resort to drop her on her head with various suplexes and throws to get rid of her agony.

Avery: Ma, my hair is itchy.
Mother: (Inspects Avery's hair with fingers) I think you have kutu in your hair.
Avery: (Stupid whining sound every younger sister makes)
Father: I think she got it from school. Also, I have only one line this this whole conversation.
Mother: Avery.
Avery: Yah?
Mother: Do you have Indian friends?
Avery: (Whining sound), how can think like that?
(Short pause)
Avery: Yah, Rita.

So parents-y, my parents.

The Army is tough on Dengue fever

We get briefed on preventions for Dengue fever very often because the Army sure as hell doesn't want any cases of Dengue to occur on the island where boys become men and men like boys. They always tell us to check for bodies of stagnant water or potential spots where water can gather in, the standard procedures to prevent the pesky idiots from literally bugging us.

They also briefed us about how we are supposed to wear the long-sleeved uniform instead of the short-sleeved one because of course, mosquitoes can't eat through the shirt. All these were told to us in the evening while we were all seated, surrounded by grass fields and drains. While wearing the standard attire for evenings and mornings: T-shirts and shorts.

I had to edit the grammar a little, I was getting used to not having to think.