SOC Remedial Training (RT) has started, and it is weighing heavily on me. The rundown, the terrifying obstacles, the exhaustion, the shouting and more are all getting to me. People keep saying that it's all in the mind, that SOC is all mental, and that one can do anything if one puts one's mind to it. If that is the case, then I think I had better try flying by jumping off the 4th floor, and ascribing my failure to soar aloft to a lack of willpower. People also say that once you have done something, you will be able to do it again. But then, things can never be used indefinitely, as wear and tear will result in them, ultimately giving way one day. The Final Solution is attractive, but why let the slave drivers take from you more than they have to? What's the point of injuring yourself for the SAF, and especially to boost some unimportant numbers which will be reset the next year?

Adding to my worries has been work. Now is a bad time to be the Docu I/C - the recruits report sick in swarms, and further, I have a lot of referrals to book everyday. I've been doing overtime everyday the past week (and on Friday the previous week too), just to keep my backlog of work still-manageable - a task made ever more onerous by the time and energy taken up by concurrent training and remedial training. What's more, I have the feeling that I am less than competent. I think I'm going mad. Maybe I should have been like Johann and gone mad right at the start - during BMT.

With the combination of these 2 major headaches (RT and work), a whole host of problems-normally-minor-but-suddenly-major-due-to-stress and the cancellation of our company's nights off for the week due to dirty weapons, I just broke down. 3 times in the course of the week, I was reduced to a quivering, quavering, whimpering blob, the worst episode being after the SOC RT where I went to hide in a laundrette, and the recruits probably thought that the cries coming from inside were from the ghosts that haunt the place. I don't think I've collapsed so completely in these 19 months, not even in the first days of BMT (where I cried often, but softly and discretely), nor on the day I booked in after Chinese New Year last year, when a certain unfortunate thing happened to me.

I feel slightly better after seeing my MO and Senior Medic, but I don't know if I will fall apart during the next SOC RT. If worse comes to worst, I can always call the much-talked-about-but-never-used SAF hotline, or declare myself psychiatric. Luckily, I will be getting a Little Elf or two (to my Santa) to help me with work (yeh!), so I can concentrate on running and RT (...). Incidentally, Lenny kindly offered to help me do some of my work on one day, seeing how stressed I was. He also commented that I'd become a great deal less cheery this week, so I guess the stress was really taking its toll on me.


In their latest act of gross, flagrant and baffling stupidity, the Powers That Be have confiscated our extra pillows. That would not be so bad, except that they also took my clearly marked non-SAF pillow, which I had brought from home. What happened next defies belief - they threw the extra pillows away. I am really at a loss for words at the sheer mindlessness of it all. Could it be that, in a vindictive rage, they are just trying to spite us all? But then, making our lives more miserable *is* part of their job description.

This week, we marked SAF day with an observance parade. Meanwhile, I was also commemorating this special day, by re-dedicating myself against the SAF and most of what it stands for - slavery, sadism, disregard for the individual, bullying, anger, stupidity, lust, acting, mindlessness and much more. "Give me liberty or give me death" - Patrick Henry, March 23, 1775. Unfortunately, there are fates worse than death for 2 1/2 year soldiers, and I, being the craven that I am, have not courage such as the Jehovah's Witnesses possess to face them. If only I had been born female, I would not have had to betray my principles by accepting my conscription. Some people like to dress National Slavery in the clothes of honour, duty and patriotism ("Doing NS is a duty and an honour"), but just like the Emperor's New Clothes, these are all illusory. If it is really such an honour, why is the alternative prison, and why do so many loathe it? If there is any honour in it at all, it is the honour accorded to the sacrificial victim, who is feted by all, while everyone secretly rejoices that they were not the one chosen to be sacrificed to the god of the volcano.

We now have our very own Medical Centre puppy, adopted by Max from some litter. Maybe it can help us catch the rats :)

It's not fair. Someone is as fat as I, yet he can wear one set of uniform for the entire week, and though there are white streaks of dried sweat on the back by week's end, it does not stink!

The regimentation we are facing is going up by the day, in tandem with that faced by the recruits. I wonder how much more we can take.

It's really quite a pain to book medical appointments for people at Alexandra Hospital. For some reason, AH wants to know the patients' dates of birth and addresses - maybe they send out birthday cards to their patients every year or something.. The other hospitals don't seem to ask for such silly details, only for contact numbers. Or maybe the other hospitals have linked networks to pool patient information.

The HDB has cancelled its annual cleanest estate competition as it realised that residents were not enthusiastic about it, and the competition was really between the cleaners of the estates. This decision is most wise, and I applaud it. By the same token, the SAF's Best Unit Competition should be scrapped too, as its results just depend on how hard each unit's commanders (and S3 department, especially) manage to push their men, and to play with the system (see: 1st Commandos Battalion). If you ask the NSFs, I'm sure that you'll find that more then 95% do not care whether they are the top combat unit or the last combat unit.

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