My bunkmates.

3101 prones on his bed, his eyes scanning the arousing pages of FHM. His pegged posture reveals his paused fantasizing state, only to leave his ID tag oscillating in archly discipline of a pendulum from his neck. Libido satiated, he flips for another erotic engagement.

3102 sits and leans against the wall, his eyelids dragged to descent by drowsiness. The flu pill has enervated his everyday ebullience. His favourite manga remains in his cupboard, stagnant at the page wet with drool from dozing off.

3103 stares into the air. Downcast. Dispirited. Depressed. The 8 Days in his hands barely occupies him, he looks away from the glossy pages and casts his sight outside the angled window panes, only to see a partial view of scenery. Something somewhere is incomplete.

3104 is a big freaking idiot.

3105 folds up the lower half of his sponge mattress and lies on the elevated headrest. His
arms stretched and bent with palms interlocked under his head, looking suave and masculine even in the ugliest posture. Click. Click. His manly fingers engrossed with the station-hopping button of his receiver.

3106 rests on his SBO, spectacles thrusted above his forehead, shirt unbuttoned and pants pulled down. He tucks his head into his helmet and cosies into a nap. His pudginess spills out from his Byford briefs, and his distinguished male mammaries play peek-a-boo as his uniform flaps with the rotational gusts from the fan above.

3107 bolts to the toilet for a quick shower, zips back and spurts there again to do laundry. He dashes back to tighten his SBO, slides to the dustbin to dispose of the frayed black tape and hurries to perfect his smart 4. Done, he scoots to the corridor to get a quick glimpse of the sergeants' activity and darts back to report useful updates if any. What workaholic vibes.

3108 sashays around in his glaring red briefs along the length of his bed, make-doing it as a catwalk aisle for a fashion show. A pious follower, he equips his cupboard with a recorder with Buddhist chants and a ba gua sticker on its oblong mirror. He starts belting out Mandarin retro hits with his high-pitched vocals in his near-nude glory.

3109 immerses himself in the claustrophic setting he arranged with sealed windows and by positioning himself between 2 beds. Enigmatic aura exudes from his meditating manners and philosophical parlance, which irritates more than impresses in this military milieu.

3110 lies insecurely on his bed, his tiny eyes squinting through thick lenses for a quick read of Dan Brown, looking only like a perfect epitome of a future educator.

National Day 2005 Special: The Inaugural Screech Fest!

Above: Bitch buddies xh and jy Below: Buddies wj and yh

Reached JEC outlet to find out that K Lunch was fully reserved. Left my contacts subsequently with Lot 1, Clementi and Paradiz outlets only to end up at JEC for a postponed K Lunch. We were allocated a 10-seater room with enough sofa area for four of us supinely lain. Looking forward to Episode II!

Where Our President's Scholars Are From 2001-2005

2001

• RI-RJC
• RGS-HCJC
• TCHS-HCJC

2002

• RI-RJC
• RI-RJC
• RGS-RJC
• RGS-HCJC

2003

• RI-RJC
• RI-RJC
• RI-RJC
• RGS-HCJC
• ACS(I)-ACJC

2004

• DHS-RJC
• RVHS-HCJC

2005

• RGS-RJC
• RGS-RJC
• TCHS-HCJC

Trendspotting

1. RI hasn't been producing any President's Scholar for 2 consecutive years.
2. This is probably the first time in history that there are more female than male scholars.
3. All female scholars came from RGS.
4. HCJC has always held the record of being the college which produced the most number of President's Scholars. The statistics above show otherwise - RJC is obviously catching up in recent years.
5. There is a grand total of 6 secondary schools, 3 junior colleges yet only 7 combinations in the above list.

Number of PSC Scholars 2001 - 2005

• 2001 - 266
• 2002 - 55
• 2003 - 48
• 2004 - 34
• 2005 - 49

Why the anomaly in 2001? Or is it a misnomer to call it so? I am really curious to know.

The book-in blues are commencing their insidious invasion now, albeit it's 11 hours before book-in, but sleep time just cannot qualify as civilian hours.

Army life has so far been relatively smooth flowing for me. I have to say this vocation (Regimental Policeman @ Changi Air Base) is the best I can get out of the plenty available. One, it's probably the nearest military installation to my house. Next, it allows me to do intensive reading during my NSF days, be it intervals between duties or on off days.

I can foresee myself especially cherishing free weekdays, when I can roam the streets and malls with considerable ease and freedom. The apparent downside would be the lack of company, but army has somehow developed in me an inclination and fondness to spend time with myself. The twin workings of narcissism and loner-ism, more of which I don't know but excessive of either isn't encouraging.

So having reasoned the fact that my life now is what it could probably best be, I should not be ranting at all about NS. But neither should I feel obliged to feel positively about booking-in. So I don't know what I should be feeling now. Hence I am feeling empty, which may be the best option after all.

The forefather of this present blog is http://unclejian.diaryland.com.

Just to clarify. I don't want people to mistake me as one newbie blogger who was oh-so-inspired to blog thanks to the recent spate of blogging celebrities being publicised (more often than not negatively) such as Miss Xiaxue and Miss SPG. I won't idolise or worship and hence get inspired by them to blog for nuts.

Please believe me.