Random Ramblings 4: Half Days.

Any free time/ time off is extremely precious when you're working. After all, save for the few of us who are gainfully self-employed, for the rest of us those free-wheeling tertiary days are over. A thing of the past. And whether you like it or not, you come to terms with it and you make the best of your free time.

Of course, what constitutes 'best' is highly subjective. I know of a couple of friends who believe that there is nothing more enjoyable and fulfilling than sleeping their weekends/free time away. Needless to say, they are reaping the 'benefits' and attendant side effects of their favourite activity. To each their own. Personally, I believe that one's weekends and free time should be spent on the various activities one enjoys, necessary errands and generally things you'd never be able to do while at work. Which, face it, is almost everything. Unless your idea of fun is work in which I have nothing to say.

I'm starting to think Half Days are a real gem (if there's no outstanding work to be rushed). I'm talking about Afternoon Half days, morning ones are a bloody waste of time and should be avoided at all costs unless you really have something to attend to.

So why Afternoon Half Days? You come in for a few hours in the morning, get the rest of the day off and get to rush about doing the necessary things, chill out, catch up with friends, all for the price of half-a-day of leave. Oh sure, you don't have the luxury of sleeping in late. But hey, you always have the option of MCs full day leaves for that.

Today's half day was packed back to back with activities and highly gratifying. First, a quick sojourn to the doctor to collect the necessary meds, followed by coffee with Kate, a long overdue visit to the dentist, followed by gym, foot reflexology then some quick shopping for essentials and a new pillow cause my old one is killing me. Or my back rather. All in all, a well spent Half Day. Nothing like sprucing up oneself to leave one recharged and refreshed for the rigours of working life.

That's the way it is

There are songs that speak to you, seems to affect the very core of your being when you first hear it. There are songs which inspire, songs that present the solution to your current quagmire. There are songs that get stuck in your head, that just won't get out. There are others which are like anthems, promises to hold on to.

Celine Dion's 'That's the way it is' is none of the above yet a little of all of the above. Some songs are meant to be played, listened to and cherished like a silent prayer, in watchful anticipation. Even if you might not be a believer just now. That's the way it is is one of those songs.



Celine Dion - That's the Way It is.

I can read your mind and I know your story
I see what you're going through
It's an uphill climb, and I'm feeling sorry
But I know it will come to you

Don't surrender 'cause you can win
In this thing called love

When you want it the most there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is

When you question me for a simple answer
I don't know what to say, no
But it's plain to see, if you stick together
You're gonna find a way, yeah

So don't surrender 'cause you can win
In this thing called love

When you want it the most there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is

When life is empty with no tomorrow
And loneliness starts to call
Baby, don't worry, forget your sorrow
'Cause love's gonna conquer it all, all

When you want it the most there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is

When you want it the most there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is

That's the way it is
That's the way it is, babe
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is.

Random Ramblings 3 - Sometimes.

Rant 1 (Open Mobs ):

I always think open mobilisations are a bloody waste of time. Why else would you summon a motley crew of NS men on a Saturday afternoon and have them lug their mostly decrepit field packs, army SBOs and helmets to a god forsaken ulu camp; just to have some officers leave a few squiggles on a crummy piece of paper and have the crumbling items in the said decrepit fieldpacks inspected?

Do you seriously think we'll use the stuff in our field packs? That crumbly long expired toothpaste, the grimy, powdery camo paint or the half rusted mess tins? Granted, every NS man's equipment might be in various stages of decay depending on the time he ORDed (or RODed) or the number of times the equipment has actually seen the light of day which is in turn dependent on the number of ICTs the said NSman has gone for.

But the powers that be think so. Which was why I ended up in my slightly tight No 4, lugging the entire shebang of army equipment, otherwise termed as FBO (full battle order)- which incidentally had not see the light of day for 6 years, halfway across the island to some bloody godforsaken ulu camp in the jungle. All the while cursing the apparent uselessness of my not-too-recently obtained PES status. And all this just to sign some stupid slip of paper.

Turns out they got my PES status wrong and I shouldn't even be in the godforsaken place and unit, which was the understanding I had when the coveted status was awarded by the Chief MO last year. Inspection of the equipment was a speedy affair, largely due to advanced state of decay of a number of items in the field pack and the poorly concealed enthusiasm of the poor NSF sergeant conducting the said inspection. The helmet links were crusted in verdigris, once-pristine ziploc bags used to store the requisite field items starting to disintegrate in a sticky mess, rust on the mess tin and a suspicious mound of green in the toiletries/powder ziploc bag that did not look like powder.

Add the splotches of brown mud/mold? on the field pack and the mixed layer of grime, dried camo and corrosive SAF insect repellent which covered almost everything and you can understand why that poor NSF sgt was so eager to finish the said inspection. Not quite a bio-hazard but certainly not very far off either. Bad enough that I spent close to 30 mins scrubbing myself down when I returned.

Then to top it off, it started to pour just as I left the camp. Which meant a 10 mins walk out in the rain while saddled with my semi decayed army stuff. And I was reminded once again of the army stench, that odour of wet uniform and sodden FBO, unlocking the latent odours of dried sweat and other unidentifiable ones merging into a pungent symphony that assails the senses. Which was just bloody great.

Rant/muse 2: Sometimes.

I'm getting very uninspired about a lot of things. I'm not sure if that's even the correct word to use. It wouldn't be correct to say I'm unmotivated about a lot of things, because if I were, I wouldn't be doing those things. Because to be unmotivated naturally presumes the lack of impetus to do that thing and the inevitable consequence that you end up not doing that thing. But I still am. Doing those things, that is.

I'm just not inspired to do a lot of things anymore. I do them almost by rote, because I know they are necessary or beneficial and so I do. But not out of any particular desire or burning need to do so. So perhaps in that sense, you could say I'm unmotivated in doing those things that I'm currently doing. The lack of zest, more like it.

Take gym for example, I'm not inspired to do it any longer but I still go for my 3 or 4 weekly sessions/classes because it's beneficial and therefore I do. Of course the fact that I've paid my PT (personal trainer) also forces one to actually gym. Maybe this whole business of dating/meeting people would be a better example.

I'm quite tired of it in fact. These numerous meet ups to get to know another person, to ascertain your 'compatibility' and mutual interest, to more often than not end up being bored to death, becomes increasingly facetious. Almost farcical. Almost.

The irony of the juxtaposition is not lost on me. I'm not unhappy being single but yet I do not wish to remain single for the rest of my life. It certainly doesn't help that the singles in my current circle of gay friends are not exactly 'bf material' or are clearly incompatible. Hence the need to meet people because unlike what a colleague so bewilderingly believes, partners do not fall from the sky and drop into your lap. If anything, for the rare few that do, that is the exception rather than the rule.

So contentedly single but not singularly happy about the prospect of remaining single for the rest of my life. Ah the irony.

Sometimes I ask myself, " So what if I never meet someone I really like, a person I'd want to get attached to?"

And a little voice replies Do you really want the answer to that?

I never reply. Some questions are best left unanswered. Some answers best remain unspoken.

Ignorance is not innocence. Ignorance may not even be bliss. But it remains a sufficient state of mind. For now.

Soil & Sea.

We are but pieces on this board of existence, mosaics in this greater scheme of things. Men, gods, spirits. To the gods men are pawns, the visible entities behind the invisible mechanisations and shifting loyalties. Alliances forged and shattered over mortal battlefields stained crimson, blood the price exacted and paid a thousand times over.

But the players are also played, skeins in a spider's web, inextricably linked, master yet slave. Pieces on the board, mobility the illusion of freedom but infinitely interconnected and forever bound.

We cling desperately to the sodden shore of our fallacious beliefs against the pull of the tides of change, only to be swept out to sea. We clutch our rapacious support of carefully wrought schemes, push furtively against the winds of time, only to be uprooted and tumble like weeds in the wind. We are as the soil and the sea. Driven by unseen forces, forever in motion, even when we stand still.

Inequity begets fanaticism in all its myriad forms. Fanaticism that stokes the feverish flames. And when inequity burgeons into violent conflagration, the gods themselves are helpless. They cease to lead and can but follow, dragged by the will of their worshippers.

Gods annihilated, ascendants fall as blood is spilt by avid worshippers in the names of their fallen gods. Heedless, uncaring of the very gods they profess to serve. Blood shed, repaid in kind as the heavens weep in helpless despair and the crimson stained sand turns a runny pink.