mardi, mai 04, 2004
warm orange lamps, daylight coloured lamps, brownish hue through the translucent blinds, the bright staircase lights. a multicoloured facade. and in them, little people moving around. like an aquarium, like simcity, like simtower. the little legs walking around. the woman sitting at the table, tying her hair; the animated discussions; the people appearing, disappearing. a couple returning home from work. the lady opens the door. an orange light flicks on, and the dark windows light up, revealing the furniture within. they enter. the shoes come off. the lady walks around and opens the screen doors. she disappears. the man slowly removes his socks and tie. and then off he disappears too. the light is now still. the people in the houses look so small. the houses look so small. just a 2+ metre high box, small and confined. and so much happens in there. in such little space. it looks so constricted restricted. so much space out here, out there. from such a short distance away, life already looks so small. what about further away.
life so limited.
after learning so much about famous people, significant events and historical milestones, our lives seem so small, worthless and pitiful. we seem to be capable of so little. our lives seem such a waste the way we spend it. so little we can achieve, other than for our own pleasure, enjoyment and amusement.
my knees and ankles ache irritatingly. perhaps, like me, they're getting tired of life. tired of the mundaneness, the futility, the absolute boredom.
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have i said this before? : the one, and conclusive proof as to the unparalleled importance of National Service to Singapore is their willingness to expend such a magnificent proportion of intellect and workforce on pitiful activities for more than two ultra-productive years of a pitifully short lifespan. it is reasonable to assume confidently that the ministers are not un-aware of how pointless NS life is, to the individual.
but we could say that they can't help it, equality in a democratic society decreeds that all be accorded equal treatment. even though the army doesn't need That many brains. nor does it actually need much brains (in any position). the huge numbers, and the length of term of service, basically arises from a simple need to have a sizeable defence force at any point of time. too bad the population is small, and getting smaller. and no solution is in sight. save for the magic of SDU and DSTA.
nowhere else could subtlety be more distinct and dividing lines more defined than the army. nvm, just a passing comment. with regards to the actual respect accorded to the NSF, the regular Warrants and Specs, and the regular Officers. the NSF rank highest, the Officers second, and the last one, third. simply explained, the first group do so much, in an organisation that's not theirs, and are but serving their time. the second group, mostly have brains, and are largely acceptably capable. the last group, are second-rate commanders, never fit to rise up, but seem to be mere posts created or thrown to those who sign on for lack of a better place to go.
come to think of it (in a bad way), the army doesn't need smart people. smart people think too much, know too much, expect too much, question too much, resist too much, have too high standards of satisfaction.
it is hard not to be cynical, or bitter. love cannot be bought, or forced.
i stood at the windows, the dark-tinted windows against the darkness of the evening. i stared out, running my eyes over the adjacent block of flats opposite. a mirror image i suppose. two rows of tinted lighted windows running 16 storeys up. family life at night. the flats which lie so empty in the day gets filled up and turned on.
warm orange lamps, daylight coloured lamps, brownish hue through the translucent blinds, the bright staircase lights. a multicoloured facade. and in them, little people moving around. like an aquarium, like simcity, like simtower. the little legs walking around. the woman sitting at the table, tying her hair; the animated discussions; the people appearing, disappearing. a couple returning home from work. the lady opens the door. an orange light flicks on, and the dark windows light up, revealing the furniture within. they enter. the shoes come off. the lady walks around and opens the screen doors. she disappears. the man slowly removes his socks and tie. and then off he disappears too. the light is now still. the people in the houses look so small. the houses look so small. just a 2+ metre high box, small and confined. and so much happens in there. in such little space. it looks so constricted restricted. so much space out here, out there. from such a short distance away, life already looks so small. what about further away.
life so limited.
after learning so much about famous people, significant events and historical milestones, our lives seem so small, worthless and pitiful. we seem to be capable of so little. our lives seem such a waste the way we spend it. so little we can achieve, other than for our own pleasure, enjoyment and amusement.
my knees and ankles ache irritatingly. perhaps, like me, they're getting tired of life. tired of the mundaneness, the futility, the absolute boredom.
-
have i said this before? : the one, and conclusive proof as to the unparalleled importance of National Service to Singapore is their willingness to expend such a magnificent proportion of intellect and workforce on pitiful activities for more than two ultra-productive years of a pitifully short lifespan. it is reasonable to assume confidently that the ministers are not un-aware of how pointless NS life is, to the individual.
but we could say that they can't help it, equality in a democratic society decreeds that all be accorded equal treatment. even though the army doesn't need That many brains. nor does it actually need much brains (in any position). the huge numbers, and the length of term of service, basically arises from a simple need to have a sizeable defence force at any point of time. too bad the population is small, and getting smaller. and no solution is in sight. save for the magic of SDU and DSTA.
nowhere else could subtlety be more distinct and dividing lines more defined than the army. nvm, just a passing comment. with regards to the actual respect accorded to the NSF, the regular Warrants and Specs, and the regular Officers. the NSF rank highest, the Officers second, and the last one, third. simply explained, the first group do so much, in an organisation that's not theirs, and are but serving their time. the second group, mostly have brains, and are largely acceptably capable. the last group, are second-rate commanders, never fit to rise up, but seem to be mere posts created or thrown to those who sign on for lack of a better place to go.
come to think of it (in a bad way), the army doesn't need smart people. smart people think too much, know too much, expect too much, question too much, resist too much, have too high standards of satisfaction.
it is hard not to be cynical, or bitter. love cannot be bought, or forced.
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