Office work — R & D (Regimentation and Discipline)

I have not had interest in blogging for some time now. Two weeks to be exact.

It is probably just fatigue, because you can't really have time for yourself when you are out there doing other stuff.

I experienced first-hand being a clerk at one of the staff branches in camp. There is a lot more freedom than being in the combat side, where my every single move was monitored constantly, and I could take short breaks as and when I liked without the risk of being accused of malingering. I also like the shredder in the office: especially how it takes pieces of paper and turns them into little christmas confetti with a menacing growl.

But nothing beats sleeping-in back in bunk, going for the occasional run to up-keep my fitness, and then gorging myself on expensive mess food to satisfy my stomach — but I get along. I am convinced that I have a morbid obsession with the shredder, especially since I managed to shred a box of old documents within the time it took the sun to set on Wednesday.

No matter what, the fact remains that I do one of the detested job of the battalion, assisting in the charging of defaulters, and sending them to the Detention Barracks, ceremony and handcuffs: the works. Not only is there plenty of paperwork to do (it is rumoured that 50% of the entire army's charge records came from my battalion), I come face to face with detainees as they enter the bane of the entire service: detention.

I see the obvious fear on their faces as the Military Police started them on their strict regimentation right from the start.

Now if you have not seen what happens to the detainees in the DB, here is a story by the Straits Times (posted on a local JC forum board).

Here's a piece of advice to all 18 year old boys doing, or about to do your National Service: please don't break the law, either by being Absent Without Official Leave, or by stealing, etc. It hurts you and your parents the most. Paperwork is but a small matter which I can handle, but it is the thought of having to send somebody to the lock up that hurts me the most.

Fear: The enemy of success

Frequent readers of motivational books would surely be familiar with the trumpet to action.

That the need to be actively taking action for success is not surprising: in fact, it is an important pre-requisite. All those lofty ambitions and careful plans are nothing but castles in the air if they born into the physical world. Yet we keep ourselves paralysed by the stifling cloud of fear and procrastination.

Personally, fear is a tough enemy to defeat. It never fails to seek out my vulnerabilities, and to exploit it like a crack in the hole. It encourages procrastination by casting doubts on my capabilities, rubbing it in liberally with its incessant nagging. It is annoying, and should have been in itself a compelling enough reason to incite me to cast this enemy aside. Yet I find myself pausing to entertain the spectre of negativity that it creates, effectively neutralising the positive encouragements that I harbour. Sometimes, I even get consumed by fear itself, preferring to hide myself under the covers of the bed, totally shut out from the world.

What I have failed to realise is that fear plays no actual part towards the achievement of my goals. Instead of focusing me upon the task at hand, I am detracted into a damaging exercise in mis-trust with myself, eventually achieving its aim (ironically) when I fail to achieve mine. So, from now on, I promise everybody to not ever give a thought to this distracting troll.

SOC remedial training

Inspired by the writing frenzy generated by the over-heated competition that is the [ :: NaNoWriMo :: ], I have decided to dust the thick layer of mold off my series of unfortunate events, and to kick-start my sad story.

I had remedial training this Saturday, and this was done under the shadow of the glee those who had just passed their test on Friday. I felt a little upset at my poor performance, but credit goes to today's training, that I have finally come to realise the mental state that had previously ensured my peak performances in the past.

In fact, it was quite a coincidence that I re-discovered it at all, since I was quite frustrated at being one of the few to be still under the spectre of having to go through the standard obstacle course.

I ran the first 2 km as the warm up round, and I started walking at the 1.5 km mark, which was quite disappointing. As the Officer Commanding put it to me before, I didn't look tired or over-worked, so it must have been a mental block. I have never disagreed with him on that. I knew that by recovering my breath, I could start running again, until I lose my momentum again just metres down the road.

I knew that this couldn't be my maximum performance, so I decided to try a new tack.

For the next 3 rounds of 800 metres, we were to sprint up and down the road, beating the time of 4:30. For the first round, I tried to burst all my energy in the first lap, which severly crippled my finishing run. I came back last, sporting stiches around my left waist, and severly out of breath. Plus, Friday's dinner threatened to come out of my rear. I ended up paying a visit to the toilet, which made me miss the second round. But the loo-trip proved rewarding.

I realised that the key to my peak performance laid simply upon my legs. I only had to concentrate on it, and continually seeking to understand the fatigue that builds up in all physical activities: that is sufficient enough to take my mind off the breathlessness, and pull myself along for a much longer period of time.

I tried this re-discovery for the third round. As I sprinted, I still had my stiches, I still felt breathless, my legs were still burning as usual, but I was struck by a new thought: that I was able to tolerate it ¡ª for the very first time since a long time ago! To prove to myself that my old fitness is back, I reached the end point far earlier than anybody else.

The rest of the training session suddenly became that much easier for me. I could clear the obstacles faster, recover with the swiftness of a springboard, and cut through the tough ones like a hot wire through butter. Need I say I came back first again? (Ok, so I didn't take into account the fact that the few who participated today were not exactly expected to pass anytime soon. But, don't you agree that it is a major achievement?)

Watch out, Sylvester. I am going for the company best timing, 9:02

P.S. If you were wondering, I wrote this post in a record time of 11 minutes, without spell-check, nor stopping to read whatever I have streamed out on the keyboard. All in the name and honour, and of course the spirit of NaNoWriMo! (I won't be doing a 50, 000 word novel though. This is the best tribute I could spare, so enjoy!)

Headhunted

I probably am going to regret ever bragging about my [ :: IQ test results :: ].

You see, now I am caught in the middle of a inter-branch fight for my services. Plus, I volunteered to edit the battalion ORD magazine (ORD is the term used to describe the end of full-time national service, and the return to the civilian world. Until the next call-up, that is.) To further complicate matters, I was selected for some computer simulation exercise. It is gone now, but just looking at all the work suddenly piled upon me, I think that it is probably a better idea to play the same dumb, stealthy, quiet boy in-the-back-of-the-classroom that I did in school. Did I mention that I still have to clear my Standard Obstacle Course?

You heard me, Timothy. I cannot do Javascript. My grasp of the English language totally stinks. I look forward to doing nothing in the office, taking offs whenever there is SOC or ACCT (Advanced Close Combat Training), playing games whenever I have work to do. Thanks for having me!