Gloomy Birthdays
Friday, June 30, 2006
Gloomy Birthdays
Happy birthday to me,
You are not here with me.
Happy birthday to me,
All the cakes are for me.
That was the little tune that i had in my head at 3am,sitting in the middle of a coffeshop somewhere in Tampines,in my NS uniforum drinking on a giant cup of Ice Milo Dinosaur.Yes,it WAS my birthday on the 29th of June,but at that moment in time i actually forgot all about it.
Rewind,back to the reason why i was in that coffeeshop in the first place.SAF organised this little exhibition of various armoured vehicles at Temasek Polytechnic just today,and on Wednesday night we had to head on down there to carry some plywood boards for the exhibition.They didnt want to scratch the expensively tiled floor,afraid that they might pay more than necessary for the show.In the end the tanks didnt cause a scratch even without the boards,so all we had to do was to cover the drains and stuff.
We worked through the night that day,and all the way till Thursday morning,my birthday.It's true that work makes you forget things,and sure enough i was so busy with carrying those damn boards i forgot about my birthday,like any other birthdays that ive had actually.Because we worked with brains other than brute strength,we finished the work way before the projected time for the job to be finished and ended up sitting on the grass,talking about NS life so far and other issues,laughing away as our laughter echoed through the halls of TP,which was then empty and windy at the same time.
It was too early to go back,so we suggested that perhaps we should hang around the neighbourhood for some supper before we head back to camp.The sergeant in charge agreed,and we left the tonner at the West Gate while we walked around the HDB flats on foot,with Adrian in lead who lives in the area.
We got to this coffeeshop initially,which smelt like dead rats and old soap.It was horrible smelling,and despite the "24 hours!" boldly written beside the name of the coffeshop,none of the shops were actually opened.You'd be surprised how many people actually stays up into the wee hours of the night,just talking to each other over cups of tea and coffee.Guess the "24 hours!" really meant "We are open 24 hours for you to talk non-stop!"
The experience was quite a memorable one,so i shall elaborate a lot on that escapde we had then.They were just a whole bunch of nothing-to-dos,and you could tell by the way they talked or dressed.A man with long greasy hair sat in the corner with a bald man,both with their legs up on the chair and brown slippers.Before them were cups of black tea,with the handle of the spoon sticking out from the brink like incents.Others were sitting in groups,chattering softly until our arrival.There were about ten of us,and the sight of us startled them quite i bit i imagined.You dont see a bunch of guys un army uniforms walking along the streets at 3am unless there's a gang fight going on somewhere,right?
We were pointed to another coffeeshop across the street,with more food and a real 24 hour service.As we cut through the back of the coffeeshop and disgustingly looking toilets,i saw a bearded man with dirty striped top,squatted next to the drain rinsing the grill of a fan,minding his own business.I asked Little Eddie how it would be like,if you live your whole bloody life like that,how he was able to live with himself like that.Little Eddie retorted by saying,"Well,he could be some scholar or some really successful entrepreneur".I dismissed that comment as being absolutely stupid,and he doubted my sense of humor."Where is your SENSE?",i yelled back.
We arrived at this coffeshop down the street,and it was owned by a couple of Indians,crazy enough to work at that hour of the morning.There was a gang of Malays sitting in the corner,another group of chinese guys in strange wardrobe in another,and an old man inside the shop itself.They gave us the look as well,but i think after looking at the way they dressed at that hour,compared to the way we dressed at THAT hour,we were peanuts.
Anyway,we settled down and took our order.The Indians mustnt have had such a big order at that hour of the morning,and was scrambling everywhere serving us.I ordered Roti Prada,and the way they were served on familiar plates made it taste bitterly sweet.The Ice Milo Dinosaur was not worth the money,with so much ice in it i swear if you pour them all out,the Milo would only occupy half the cup.But anyway,it was supper and it was my birthday,i couldnt care less about it.
I didnt realise my birthday until then,when i looked up at the old clock hanging from the white tiles at the corner of the shop.It was 2.40am,and i smiled as i celebrated it quietly with myself,singing that tune in my head,making up the lyrics as i went on.I didnt have cakes,i didnt have candles.Just leftover Roti Pratas and a cup of Milo.Guess those were enough,and with the weird company that i had then it was some sort of party,i guess.
The coke can hung losely from the end of the antenna,as the radio at the top of the shelf played an Indian tune.It was a woman singing,and she sounded like any other Indian woman to me.I didnt understand what she was singing of course,but she sounded sad for some reason,almost doubtful.It added on to that strange melancholic emotion i was feeling,as the Milo tasted more and more bitter with every gulp.The old man,drinking his tea alone,sat with his old worn out leather shoes beside my table.His pants were too short for him,and he drank quietly as he tea softly steamed.He finished,and left with the money on the table.Exact change,i thought.
Next to me were my platoon mates,and they were having a great supper,talking to each other about how techinically speaking,we were AWOL-ing.That is,away from camp without permission,which also means it was a chargable offence,enough to get you into DB.But still,we were having fun,and it wasnt any different from the time when we snuck off to Jurong Entertainment Centre for some fun during the NDP rehearsals.I guess it was okay,and i needed somebody to celebrate my birthday with me,right.
I dont know why,but unlike everybody else i am rather morbid about my birthdays.It never was a very big deal for me every year.I mean,aside from the wonderful and lovely SMSes i get from friends i see it as just another day of the year.It might be because i havent got a religion,and like Christmas Day i dont get too hyped up about it.I dont know,when my friends asked how i am going to celebrate it,i was dumbfounded as i tried desperately looking for an answer.Nicolas threw a party and invited a bunch of his friends over to his chalet.My other friends were clubbing and got wasted.Others prefered to hang out with a bunch of friends over dinner and have a good time afterwards.I know i can always do that,but for some reason i never found the motivatin to do so.
I remember my last birthday,and it was spent out in the field.Yeah,out in the damn bloody fields.I think it was past midnight too,and we were asked to dig in the middle of nowhere.I cleared the grass,and with sweat pouring down my face and my buttons all opened,and dug through the night and remember tasting tears in my mouth.Perhaps it was sweat,but when i sat in the hole and looked up in the clear night sky,i sang a little birthday song to myself and smiled.How pathetic was that,celebrating it with myself,all dirty and sweaty,alone and lonely.But that's me,that's the way i celebrated it last year,out in the field with nobody knowing about it.It's not that i dont want people to remember it(though i dont force people to),it's just that i dont see it as anything particularly spectacular on that day.Unless i get ten grands every year on my birthday,then that might just up a notch on the importance of the day.
Im a morbid person,im so boring to live with.I find myself agreeably disagreeable.I think if somebody were to live with me long enough they'd find me extremely boring,pessimistic,and ultimately irritating.Which is also why,as i pondered over so many questions,ive came to a conclusions that i wont make a good partner in a relationship.Im constantly out of ideas,always too boring for others,only fascinating myself.Im a question mark even to my close friends,and to be honest im thankful i stay that way to most people.At least there is always something to look forward in this person,and not a partner who is going to dig to the bottom of this boring hole only to find nothing in the treasure chest.At least the suspense is going to keep my other friends digging,right.
Right?
Well-painted passion
You rightly suspect
Impersonation
The dumbing down of love
Jaded in anger
Love underwhelms you
No box of chocolates
Whichever way you fall
Happy birthday to me,
You are not here with me.
Happy birthday to me,
All the cakes are for me.
That was the little tune that i had in my head at 3am,sitting in the middle of a coffeshop somewhere in Tampines,in my NS uniforum drinking on a giant cup of Ice Milo Dinosaur.Yes,it WAS my birthday on the 29th of June,but at that moment in time i actually forgot all about it.
Rewind,back to the reason why i was in that coffeeshop in the first place.SAF organised this little exhibition of various armoured vehicles at Temasek Polytechnic just today,and on Wednesday night we had to head on down there to carry some plywood boards for the exhibition.They didnt want to scratch the expensively tiled floor,afraid that they might pay more than necessary for the show.In the end the tanks didnt cause a scratch even without the boards,so all we had to do was to cover the drains and stuff.
We worked through the night that day,and all the way till Thursday morning,my birthday.It's true that work makes you forget things,and sure enough i was so busy with carrying those damn boards i forgot about my birthday,like any other birthdays that ive had actually.Because we worked with brains other than brute strength,we finished the work way before the projected time for the job to be finished and ended up sitting on the grass,talking about NS life so far and other issues,laughing away as our laughter echoed through the halls of TP,which was then empty and windy at the same time.
It was too early to go back,so we suggested that perhaps we should hang around the neighbourhood for some supper before we head back to camp.The sergeant in charge agreed,and we left the tonner at the West Gate while we walked around the HDB flats on foot,with Adrian in lead who lives in the area.
We got to this coffeeshop initially,which smelt like dead rats and old soap.It was horrible smelling,and despite the "24 hours!" boldly written beside the name of the coffeshop,none of the shops were actually opened.You'd be surprised how many people actually stays up into the wee hours of the night,just talking to each other over cups of tea and coffee.Guess the "24 hours!" really meant "We are open 24 hours for you to talk non-stop!"
The experience was quite a memorable one,so i shall elaborate a lot on that escapde we had then.They were just a whole bunch of nothing-to-dos,and you could tell by the way they talked or dressed.A man with long greasy hair sat in the corner with a bald man,both with their legs up on the chair and brown slippers.Before them were cups of black tea,with the handle of the spoon sticking out from the brink like incents.Others were sitting in groups,chattering softly until our arrival.There were about ten of us,and the sight of us startled them quite i bit i imagined.You dont see a bunch of guys un army uniforms walking along the streets at 3am unless there's a gang fight going on somewhere,right?
We were pointed to another coffeeshop across the street,with more food and a real 24 hour service.As we cut through the back of the coffeeshop and disgustingly looking toilets,i saw a bearded man with dirty striped top,squatted next to the drain rinsing the grill of a fan,minding his own business.I asked Little Eddie how it would be like,if you live your whole bloody life like that,how he was able to live with himself like that.Little Eddie retorted by saying,"Well,he could be some scholar or some really successful entrepreneur".I dismissed that comment as being absolutely stupid,and he doubted my sense of humor."Where is your SENSE?",i yelled back.
We arrived at this coffeshop down the street,and it was owned by a couple of Indians,crazy enough to work at that hour of the morning.There was a gang of Malays sitting in the corner,another group of chinese guys in strange wardrobe in another,and an old man inside the shop itself.They gave us the look as well,but i think after looking at the way they dressed at that hour,compared to the way we dressed at THAT hour,we were peanuts.
Anyway,we settled down and took our order.The Indians mustnt have had such a big order at that hour of the morning,and was scrambling everywhere serving us.I ordered Roti Prada,and the way they were served on familiar plates made it taste bitterly sweet.The Ice Milo Dinosaur was not worth the money,with so much ice in it i swear if you pour them all out,the Milo would only occupy half the cup.But anyway,it was supper and it was my birthday,i couldnt care less about it.
I didnt realise my birthday until then,when i looked up at the old clock hanging from the white tiles at the corner of the shop.It was 2.40am,and i smiled as i celebrated it quietly with myself,singing that tune in my head,making up the lyrics as i went on.I didnt have cakes,i didnt have candles.Just leftover Roti Pratas and a cup of Milo.Guess those were enough,and with the weird company that i had then it was some sort of party,i guess.
The coke can hung losely from the end of the antenna,as the radio at the top of the shelf played an Indian tune.It was a woman singing,and she sounded like any other Indian woman to me.I didnt understand what she was singing of course,but she sounded sad for some reason,almost doubtful.It added on to that strange melancholic emotion i was feeling,as the Milo tasted more and more bitter with every gulp.The old man,drinking his tea alone,sat with his old worn out leather shoes beside my table.His pants were too short for him,and he drank quietly as he tea softly steamed.He finished,and left with the money on the table.Exact change,i thought.
Next to me were my platoon mates,and they were having a great supper,talking to each other about how techinically speaking,we were AWOL-ing.That is,away from camp without permission,which also means it was a chargable offence,enough to get you into DB.But still,we were having fun,and it wasnt any different from the time when we snuck off to Jurong Entertainment Centre for some fun during the NDP rehearsals.I guess it was okay,and i needed somebody to celebrate my birthday with me,right.
I dont know why,but unlike everybody else i am rather morbid about my birthdays.It never was a very big deal for me every year.I mean,aside from the wonderful and lovely SMSes i get from friends i see it as just another day of the year.It might be because i havent got a religion,and like Christmas Day i dont get too hyped up about it.I dont know,when my friends asked how i am going to celebrate it,i was dumbfounded as i tried desperately looking for an answer.Nicolas threw a party and invited a bunch of his friends over to his chalet.My other friends were clubbing and got wasted.Others prefered to hang out with a bunch of friends over dinner and have a good time afterwards.I know i can always do that,but for some reason i never found the motivatin to do so.
I remember my last birthday,and it was spent out in the field.Yeah,out in the damn bloody fields.I think it was past midnight too,and we were asked to dig in the middle of nowhere.I cleared the grass,and with sweat pouring down my face and my buttons all opened,and dug through the night and remember tasting tears in my mouth.Perhaps it was sweat,but when i sat in the hole and looked up in the clear night sky,i sang a little birthday song to myself and smiled.How pathetic was that,celebrating it with myself,all dirty and sweaty,alone and lonely.But that's me,that's the way i celebrated it last year,out in the field with nobody knowing about it.It's not that i dont want people to remember it(though i dont force people to),it's just that i dont see it as anything particularly spectacular on that day.Unless i get ten grands every year on my birthday,then that might just up a notch on the importance of the day.
Im a morbid person,im so boring to live with.I find myself agreeably disagreeable.I think if somebody were to live with me long enough they'd find me extremely boring,pessimistic,and ultimately irritating.Which is also why,as i pondered over so many questions,ive came to a conclusions that i wont make a good partner in a relationship.Im constantly out of ideas,always too boring for others,only fascinating myself.Im a question mark even to my close friends,and to be honest im thankful i stay that way to most people.At least there is always something to look forward in this person,and not a partner who is going to dig to the bottom of this boring hole only to find nothing in the treasure chest.At least the suspense is going to keep my other friends digging,right.
Right?
Well-painted passion
You rightly suspect
Impersonation
The dumbing down of love
Jaded in anger
Love underwhelms you
No box of chocolates
Whichever way you fall
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on Friday, June 30, 2006 at 10:40 PM.
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