POP loh
POSTED AT 02:21 AM

It's funny how the most important insights can come to your on the strangest occasions.

We've finally passed through the first phase of our military life, and have graduated from the lowly rank of recruits to the not-so-lowly rank of privates. Looking back at the whole BMT experience, time seems to have just flown right by but of course it's always like that when you look back on something and never when you're still in the midst of it all.

Definitely I believe I will miss the place - miss the sergeants, miss the officers, and most of all miss my fellow recruits-in-training with whom I went through so much. I'm proud to pass out as a private of Foxtrot company, and even though there are 200 of us and at least half I do not know somehow the shared identity of Foxtrot bonds us together, giving us a sense of camaraderie, because we know that we've all been given the same experience and we've all spent our two months in the same company line together.

The graduation parade was a rather forgettable event. I guess it's supposed to inspire awe and pride and in general be rather unforgettable, but I think for most of it I was concentrating too hard on not screwing up to care about what else was happening. Just push on, push on until all of a sudden we're throwing our jockey caps in the air and we've become privates.

So if the graduation parade wasn't the defining moment of the whole experience I guess the 24-click route march must have been the substitute. Pass out with pride, we were told; so what if other companies were marching with little more than newspapers and shoe boxes in their packs - we would go all the way and complete what was required of us.

And so we marched together as our platoon, keeping our spirits up and singing loudly together. I've always had a love-hate relationship with route marches, because they're tiring as hell but yet it's on these marches that you really experience the camaraderie and spirit of the army life, with your field pack on your back, your webbing around your waist and your rifle in your hand. Perhaps the infantry are the first to die, and lead the worst lives because we don't get flown around or driven around, but at least we have each other to depend on.

We are the first, the one and only infantry...

And to link back to the first statement, I'm really glad I understand things so much better now even if the revelation came to me while we were marching back from IPPT singing random army songs. I know I've made the right decision and I have no regrets.

In the eastern part of singapore...
POSTED AT 02:06 AM

So. As this two weeks of bliss and paradise and civilianhood draw to a close, it's always nice to be hit with a huge bombshell at the end.

SISPEC. School of Infantry Specialists.

Gah. It's not the end of the world or what but I'm still pretty sian diao by it because SISPEC has always been the last on my list of places that I want to be posted to. Throughout BMTC, we've had many opportunities to pass through the SISPEC compound, seeing the trainees do guard duty and walking the ground. And every single time I've been there it's always the same thought going through my head - I do not want to be here. I do not want to be those people walking arond doing guard duty. In 2 days time it will be reality

Some small part of me is hoping that one day I'll look back on this and think about how unfounded my worries and how misplaced my initial impressions are. Perhaps.

When I took the ferry back to the mainland after my POP, I took particular pleasure in assuming that that would be pretty much the last I would see of Tekong. Come Monday I'm going to have to call it home again.

I've always aimed to go to OCS. Partly because some kiasu/competitive part of me wants the best for myself, and partly because of all the prestige surrounding it. Then again, deep down within me I know I'm not worthy. I'm not a natural leader, and I don't mix well with people. It's exactly what I deserve but somehow to see the words SISPEC on the computer screen is still a kick between the legs.

And this only makes Monday even more depressing as my two-week off draws to an end. There's still so many things that I've not done yet, that I've planned to do, and that I need to do which can't be done on the 24 hours or so that we're let out on weekends.

Perhaps if they paid sergeants more I would feel better. But it's shit pay as well. I really need the money right now.

Oh well. It's exactly what I deserve. No more, no less. And I knew it all along, so why the sudden surge of anxiety? I can't explain it myself.

Reflection
POSTED AT 01:42 AM

I don't like the way I'm turning out on the personal level. I'm not the person that I want to be. Hopefully, something will come along and shock me into making major changes to my personality and about myself.

I was hoping BMT might do this for me but obviously it hasn't. Perhaps SISPEC. Oh well. I'll be off soon.

There are some things I miss and there are some things I don't. There are some people I like and there are some people I don't. There are some places I love and there are some places I don't. SFT, welcome back.
Feeling: morose

Where we train to be specialists
POSTED AT 12:50 AM

Suffer in silence plus extra confinement? So incredibly slack plus extra canteen-break.

With pride, we lead. I must say that being given the opportunity to carry the company flag at the opening parade has changed my opinion of everything somewhat. I'd never imagined, never wanted to be in such a position of looking upon the flag as my own, something which I would hold proudly with a sense of belonging. But now I think at least there's some pride involved.

Still, I'm hoping to get out of there as soon as possible. The vibe somehow is just all wrong.

University decisions come out next week. It is with an interesting mix of anticipation, dread, excitement and fear that I await the results. Ultimately this is what matters the most to me, more so than the A-level results, more so than my scholarship application outcomes, more so than my post-BMT posting results. It's been up-down on those past occasions, but really nothing matters as long as I get the acceptance letter that I want so badly.

Time to succumb to the z monster.