January's Chill
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
January's Chill
My chin was rested comfortably on my palms as I stared at the computer monitor with lazy eyes at 3am yesterday. The download of the Waking Life soundtrack was taking forever, and I was forced to watch Yanni Live in Concert at the Acropolis videos. I almost forgot how amazing this musician is, and I remember attending his concert when I was a lot younger. He should come back to Singapore some time soon, especially after his concert more than ten years ago, I believe.
Anyway, while waiting for the download to finish I took a strong to the balcony again, not with anguish or distress this time but rather with the sole purpose of breathing fresh air. My bedroom window has been closed shut these days because of the monstrous winds, attacking the new white curtains mercilessly. I don't remember it being so cold in January, but then again it's not like I have spent the last two Januarys at home anyway. They were spent in camp for the past two years, and when you are finally home the weather is the last thing you care about really, with everything else dominated by food, sleep and other social activities.
The tiles beneath my feet felt freezing, and I was forced to hug myself as the midnight wind unleashed it's full power at 3am. The moon looked like a light bulb somebody left alight in the midnight sky, shining down from above alone and almost with melancholia. Oh yes, this time two years ago! I thought to myself. I was out in my first outfield at Tekong, crawling out from under my tent to admire the night sky over there. On the light pollution free island, the sky is at it's most beautiful. I recall the beautiful full moon and the constellations that surrounded the moon, accompanying it before dawn breaks, and the silent snoring all around me that night. I was afraid and I was scared right then, hugging my knees as my buddy Christopher fell quietly asleep. I was afraid of what to expect, because I didn't know what to at all. At 4am I remained awake after a trip to the 'toilet', and sat in front of my tent and felt at peace. Those were the days, those were the days indeed.
As chunks of my hair fell off my head, as the razor surfed through my hair, they fell upon my thighs and all over the apron that I wore as the barber trimmed my hair down to merely a centimeter long. My first time getting my hair shaved, and as if it wasn't enough, it was my first day in the army. Until this day, I still firmly believe that my first day in the army was probably the worst, because of the emotional uproar and of course, the two weeks away from home was excruciating. Every minute crawled like hours and every hour seemingly didn't move at all. The cold winds of Tekong struck the back of our heads, as if to mock our first days as a bald man, and that sent shivers down our skulls and through our spines. It didn't feel good either, as shampoo rolled down your head uncontrollably, and the cold water from the shower head blasted at the skin directly. You felt no self-esteem, you felt no pride at all, and everything that comes along with those drained away into the dirty dark hole in the corner of the bathroom.
They always say that Tekong is always one degree hotter, and one degree colder than the main island. I'm not sure if that is the truth or not, but I sure remember the January days I spent on that island. Sure, there were people all around you, sharing the same toilet and the same bunk, doing the same shithole jobs with you while grumbling about the sergeants, missing their homes and crying for their loved ones. But still, you don't feel comforted by being in a group of people, who feel the same way as you do. This is not a group therapy session, you don't encourage each other to feel better because, how do you mend somebody else when you are in need of it as well? That is what I felt, and I never told anybody of my agony, late at night in bed, hearing strange noise from the metal cupboards. I remember hearing the ghost stories on Tekong, the weird sounds at night and the chants, and the green light from the exit sign that hung outside my bunk sure didn't help me feel better. The cold wind blew, and I tucked myself tighter into the sheets.
Mornings on the island were tough, because high on the fifth floor of my company line, wind surged through the corridors from the sea just beyond. And every time that happens, you hear groans and moans coming from inside the bunks and outside, complaining about the cold weather and the damned sea breeze. I remember it got so bad at one point that I actually hugged my blanket to the toilet to brush my teeth in the morning. On some days, it's become so cold that I would remain in bed and refuse to get up. Of course, that is until everybody decides to head downstairs.
Last year's January was no different either. I remember a day or two after I got back from Taiwan, we went on this overnight 16km route march in the pitch black. It was an interesting experience sure, but an experience I am not willing to relive. It rained that night, on and off for hours. And the boys hugged their weapons and pulled their hoods low over their faces to keep the raindrops out. Myself, I was shivering all over throughout the journey, with the MG slung on my shoulders I almost murdered my superiors with the weight of that accursed weapon. Our destination was Elephant Hill, and you can read about it from the entry a year ago. But basically, I remember at the top of the hill as we waited for the sunrise, nobody gave a shit about it anymore. We cuddled together in small groups, braved against the mighty wind and drank hot milo that came in small plastic cups. We were desperately in need of warmth, and nobody gave a shit about the rising sun. "We get that everyday, anyway." I managed to say in between my teeth, freezing my ass off.
So yes, it seems to be normal to spend the nights and mornings like today's in January's chill. I almost forgot about it, the cold arms that January brings, the remnants of last winter's chill. But this year, it just feels a little better spending it at home than out in the field. I am beginning to appreciate the coldness of it all actually, getting atoned and used to the weather and stuff. If only it remains this way throughout the year, how nice would it be? I'm sorry Janus, for calling you an anus at the beginning of this year. I promise to come with a better word that rhymes with your name soon, okay? But for now, keep the wind coming and keep it blowing. Send my hair go flying into the wind, because I know this won't last for long, and for now I am loving every inch of it.
Oh, before I go. A little magic from Yanni to warm your souls.
Yanni Live in Concert from Acropolis - Within Attraction
My chin was rested comfortably on my palms as I stared at the computer monitor with lazy eyes at 3am yesterday. The download of the Waking Life soundtrack was taking forever, and I was forced to watch Yanni Live in Concert at the Acropolis videos. I almost forgot how amazing this musician is, and I remember attending his concert when I was a lot younger. He should come back to Singapore some time soon, especially after his concert more than ten years ago, I believe.
Anyway, while waiting for the download to finish I took a strong to the balcony again, not with anguish or distress this time but rather with the sole purpose of breathing fresh air. My bedroom window has been closed shut these days because of the monstrous winds, attacking the new white curtains mercilessly. I don't remember it being so cold in January, but then again it's not like I have spent the last two Januarys at home anyway. They were spent in camp for the past two years, and when you are finally home the weather is the last thing you care about really, with everything else dominated by food, sleep and other social activities.
The tiles beneath my feet felt freezing, and I was forced to hug myself as the midnight wind unleashed it's full power at 3am. The moon looked like a light bulb somebody left alight in the midnight sky, shining down from above alone and almost with melancholia. Oh yes, this time two years ago! I thought to myself. I was out in my first outfield at Tekong, crawling out from under my tent to admire the night sky over there. On the light pollution free island, the sky is at it's most beautiful. I recall the beautiful full moon and the constellations that surrounded the moon, accompanying it before dawn breaks, and the silent snoring all around me that night. I was afraid and I was scared right then, hugging my knees as my buddy Christopher fell quietly asleep. I was afraid of what to expect, because I didn't know what to at all. At 4am I remained awake after a trip to the 'toilet', and sat in front of my tent and felt at peace. Those were the days, those were the days indeed.
As chunks of my hair fell off my head, as the razor surfed through my hair, they fell upon my thighs and all over the apron that I wore as the barber trimmed my hair down to merely a centimeter long. My first time getting my hair shaved, and as if it wasn't enough, it was my first day in the army. Until this day, I still firmly believe that my first day in the army was probably the worst, because of the emotional uproar and of course, the two weeks away from home was excruciating. Every minute crawled like hours and every hour seemingly didn't move at all. The cold winds of Tekong struck the back of our heads, as if to mock our first days as a bald man, and that sent shivers down our skulls and through our spines. It didn't feel good either, as shampoo rolled down your head uncontrollably, and the cold water from the shower head blasted at the skin directly. You felt no self-esteem, you felt no pride at all, and everything that comes along with those drained away into the dirty dark hole in the corner of the bathroom.
They always say that Tekong is always one degree hotter, and one degree colder than the main island. I'm not sure if that is the truth or not, but I sure remember the January days I spent on that island. Sure, there were people all around you, sharing the same toilet and the same bunk, doing the same shithole jobs with you while grumbling about the sergeants, missing their homes and crying for their loved ones. But still, you don't feel comforted by being in a group of people, who feel the same way as you do. This is not a group therapy session, you don't encourage each other to feel better because, how do you mend somebody else when you are in need of it as well? That is what I felt, and I never told anybody of my agony, late at night in bed, hearing strange noise from the metal cupboards. I remember hearing the ghost stories on Tekong, the weird sounds at night and the chants, and the green light from the exit sign that hung outside my bunk sure didn't help me feel better. The cold wind blew, and I tucked myself tighter into the sheets.
Mornings on the island were tough, because high on the fifth floor of my company line, wind surged through the corridors from the sea just beyond. And every time that happens, you hear groans and moans coming from inside the bunks and outside, complaining about the cold weather and the damned sea breeze. I remember it got so bad at one point that I actually hugged my blanket to the toilet to brush my teeth in the morning. On some days, it's become so cold that I would remain in bed and refuse to get up. Of course, that is until everybody decides to head downstairs.
Last year's January was no different either. I remember a day or two after I got back from Taiwan, we went on this overnight 16km route march in the pitch black. It was an interesting experience sure, but an experience I am not willing to relive. It rained that night, on and off for hours. And the boys hugged their weapons and pulled their hoods low over their faces to keep the raindrops out. Myself, I was shivering all over throughout the journey, with the MG slung on my shoulders I almost murdered my superiors with the weight of that accursed weapon. Our destination was Elephant Hill, and you can read about it from the entry a year ago. But basically, I remember at the top of the hill as we waited for the sunrise, nobody gave a shit about it anymore. We cuddled together in small groups, braved against the mighty wind and drank hot milo that came in small plastic cups. We were desperately in need of warmth, and nobody gave a shit about the rising sun. "We get that everyday, anyway." I managed to say in between my teeth, freezing my ass off.
So yes, it seems to be normal to spend the nights and mornings like today's in January's chill. I almost forgot about it, the cold arms that January brings, the remnants of last winter's chill. But this year, it just feels a little better spending it at home than out in the field. I am beginning to appreciate the coldness of it all actually, getting atoned and used to the weather and stuff. If only it remains this way throughout the year, how nice would it be? I'm sorry Janus, for calling you an anus at the beginning of this year. I promise to come with a better word that rhymes with your name soon, okay? But for now, keep the wind coming and keep it blowing. Send my hair go flying into the wind, because I know this won't last for long, and for now I am loving every inch of it.
Oh, before I go. A little magic from Yanni to warm your souls.
Yanni Live in Concert from Acropolis - Within Attraction
This entry was posted
on Wednesday, January 31, 2007 at 10:59 AM.
You can skip to the end and leave a response.
