Really feeling the burn this week, with almost the whole Saturday sucked up by live firing. Slept in today and a few hours later, here I am.
Been playing the ukulele recently and I now find myself torn between it and the guitar. Initially, I thought it would be a fill-in for lack of guitar and it's portability meant that I could easily stash it in the cupboard or under my bed in camp. After a few hiccups in finding a playable one, I finally found a half decent piece suitable for honing my chops. Having two strings less than a guitar, you'd think it as a lesser counterpart to the guitar but alas, the beauty lies in the simplicity of four-strings and it's bright sandy beach sound. Think I'll be leaving my trusty old Yamaha acoustic on the stand for awhile.
I want to go to Hawaii one day.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Here I Am
We were falling in on the road after lunch the other day. As usual, we were slightly late which led to some members of the platoon being stressed and one such fellow imposed a question onto Shaun, who had carelessly left a gaping hole in the file which ruined the formation.
Guy: Where are you!?
Shaun: I am here.
I guess a straightforward question deserves a straightforward answer. Nevertheless, much laughter and amusement followed and it was probably moment of the week for me.
Sometimes, all it takes is for us to say "Here I am." What more is needed to justify our existence? Not all the time do we need to think we are undeserving or inadequate to receive the love of God. On the contrary, we lose sight of Him in our struggle to climb a mountain that can never be overcome in a lifetime. He calls out, but we reject Him, saying wait, let me get there and then we can speak and forgetting that he is not waiting for us at the top of the peak, but climbing it with us. How can He help us get to where we want to go if we won't even tell Him where we are?
Interesting how the whole idea of Here I Am has been hounding me over the past week in army life, daily devotions and bible study.
On to other parts of life, Queen musical was a decent watch. Great music but plagued by a lousy ending and lack of any climatic scenes. Got the cheapest tickets which weren't that bad. Noticed some families which left the show halfway. Must've been too much of a shock for the children when they were suddenly exposed to the pr0n and nudity (statues). After the show we discussed Freddie's overflowing gayness in the song Don't Stop Me Now, such as having a ball and being a rocket ship to Mars, where men are from. Radio Ga Ga and the B.Rhapsody solo got stuck in my head for the whole week amidst the jungle bashing and 2.4km IPPT run.
Can't help but feel that as my NS life goes by, certain groups of friends just seem to be inevitably disappearing. The image of Chee Heng trying to do the swing trainer comes to mind, as he reaches out to the next bar, but alas his arms are too short and despite having a look of constipation on his face, he still loses grip on the previous bar, falling into the sand pit in quiet disappointment.
Guy: Where are you!?
Shaun: I am here.
I guess a straightforward question deserves a straightforward answer. Nevertheless, much laughter and amusement followed and it was probably moment of the week for me.
Sometimes, all it takes is for us to say "Here I am." What more is needed to justify our existence? Not all the time do we need to think we are undeserving or inadequate to receive the love of God. On the contrary, we lose sight of Him in our struggle to climb a mountain that can never be overcome in a lifetime. He calls out, but we reject Him, saying wait, let me get there and then we can speak and forgetting that he is not waiting for us at the top of the peak, but climbing it with us. How can He help us get to where we want to go if we won't even tell Him where we are?
Interesting how the whole idea of Here I Am has been hounding me over the past week in army life, daily devotions and bible study.
On to other parts of life, Queen musical was a decent watch. Great music but plagued by a lousy ending and lack of any climatic scenes. Got the cheapest tickets which weren't that bad. Noticed some families which left the show halfway. Must've been too much of a shock for the children when they were suddenly exposed to the pr0n and nudity (statues). After the show we discussed Freddie's overflowing gayness in the song Don't Stop Me Now, such as having a ball and being a rocket ship to Mars, where men are from. Radio Ga Ga and the B.Rhapsody solo got stuck in my head for the whole week amidst the jungle bashing and 2.4km IPPT run.
Can't help but feel that as my NS life goes by, certain groups of friends just seem to be inevitably disappearing. The image of Chee Heng trying to do the swing trainer comes to mind, as he reaches out to the next bar, but alas his arms are too short and despite having a look of constipation on his face, he still loses grip on the previous bar, falling into the sand pit in quiet disappointment.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
So, Can I Have Some?
Prologue.
I'll always remember that fateful night, when the four of us were sitting round a table in the wee hours of the morning pondering upon what life had in store for us and wondering what to get from the counter next. Although we had the whole night, we had already tried the whole buffet and options were running out.
The Story.
It seemed that the night had come to an inevitable end. Food at the tables were becoming scarce and even the barbecued skewered meat on bamboo sticks with a fragrant peanut dipping sauce on the side of which we had helped ourselves to generously was starting to get old. We needed something new, something fresh.
As if to answer out prayers, a smell of sweet, sweet vanilla and eggs wafted through the air like a siren's song and we found ourselves craning our necks in desperate search of the source. The sight of flapjacks being flipped skillfully by the master chef was enough to drive us mad with desire. Utterly entranced by the scent, one amongst us set forth bravely, plate in hand to procure the fluffy delights.
The chef, surprised by his approach, gave the initial refusal to share the bounty, claiming that it was meant for the breakfast menu. No doubt he already had other plans in mind for his hotcakes, probably one that involved a staff-only room and new age music. However, our young adventurer was undeterred and saw through his trickery, for it was but three in the morning and breakfast did not begin till seven. Without skipping a beat, he replied, "So, can I have some?"
It seems that the pluckiness of youth was too much for this stubborn man to bear and he reluctantly parted with the tasty morsels. The young boy, now made a man, returned in triumph with a steaming plate of pancakes and was warmly welcomed by our jubilant cheers of victory. Till this day, I can still remember my first bite into those wheels of joy, fluffy and syrupy and all.
It was like manna from heaven.
Epilogue.
The table beside us made an attempt to get their share of pancakes too, no doubt jealous of our success and celebration. However, they were too late, for the chef was not to be determined not to be foiled twice. What's more, they lacked the vigour and spirit of our merry bunch and as expected, returned empty-plated.
As for us, we did try for a second helping but it was too late, for the siren had disappeared into the depths along with the bag of pancake mix. Pancakes just never seemed the same after that. Yes, we still enjoyed some "decent" ones here and there in the months after but incomparable they were, to those we had that night.
The incident, which we decided to call "So, Can I Have Some" also became a frequent topic in our conversations but for reasons unknown, none of us ever suggested returning to the place. Maybe we thought that once was enough, or maybe we were afraid, yes afraid, of disappointment. What is certain however, is that none of us will ever forget that night.
I'll always remember that fateful night, when the four of us were sitting round a table in the wee hours of the morning pondering upon what life had in store for us and wondering what to get from the counter next. Although we had the whole night, we had already tried the whole buffet and options were running out.
The Story.
It seemed that the night had come to an inevitable end. Food at the tables were becoming scarce and even the barbecued skewered meat on bamboo sticks with a fragrant peanut dipping sauce on the side of which we had helped ourselves to generously was starting to get old. We needed something new, something fresh.
As if to answer out prayers, a smell of sweet, sweet vanilla and eggs wafted through the air like a siren's song and we found ourselves craning our necks in desperate search of the source. The sight of flapjacks being flipped skillfully by the master chef was enough to drive us mad with desire. Utterly entranced by the scent, one amongst us set forth bravely, plate in hand to procure the fluffy delights.
The chef, surprised by his approach, gave the initial refusal to share the bounty, claiming that it was meant for the breakfast menu. No doubt he already had other plans in mind for his hotcakes, probably one that involved a staff-only room and new age music. However, our young adventurer was undeterred and saw through his trickery, for it was but three in the morning and breakfast did not begin till seven. Without skipping a beat, he replied, "So, can I have some?"
It seems that the pluckiness of youth was too much for this stubborn man to bear and he reluctantly parted with the tasty morsels. The young boy, now made a man, returned in triumph with a steaming plate of pancakes and was warmly welcomed by our jubilant cheers of victory. Till this day, I can still remember my first bite into those wheels of joy, fluffy and syrupy and all.
It was like manna from heaven.
Epilogue.
The table beside us made an attempt to get their share of pancakes too, no doubt jealous of our success and celebration. However, they were too late, for the chef was not to be determined not to be foiled twice. What's more, they lacked the vigour and spirit of our merry bunch and as expected, returned empty-plated.
As for us, we did try for a second helping but it was too late, for the siren had disappeared into the depths along with the bag of pancake mix. Pancakes just never seemed the same after that. Yes, we still enjoyed some "decent" ones here and there in the months after but incomparable they were, to those we had that night.
The incident, which we decided to call "So, Can I Have Some" also became a frequent topic in our conversations but for reasons unknown, none of us ever suggested returning to the place. Maybe we thought that once was enough, or maybe we were afraid, yes afraid, of disappointment. What is certain however, is that none of us will ever forget that night.
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