To start off this entry, that's a photo I took with my iPhone while on the road the night of my third-last book-in to Pasir Laba Camp for my scout platoon course, heavily edited with some fake light leaks to evoke a faux film experience which would hopefully translate to feelings of uh... nostalgia, and perhaps, hopefulness that comes with yet another chapter closed. Lol.
Of course, I believe I've closed many more chapters during the four months I've been away from this place. Apparently I haven't been writing as much as I should, and I should've known better than to keep my resolution of writing regularly in a physical Moleskine journal, because that definitely didn't turn out the way I expected it to. Nevertheless, I've done quite a good job in trudging (both figuratively and literally) through my NS journey thus far, well at least as far as a man is concerned.
Looking back, the course was sort of a brief throwback to PTP/BMT days, it being a training school and all, only there was just way more dread accentuating everything. After all, you can't replicate the BMT experience unless you were a recruit who barely knew anything. For scouts, the average ignorant Singaporean would be able to know more about what we do from all those cyberpioneer videos on YouTube. Yeah, I guess we did most of that while on course. Besides being the signaller of my own team (so I had to deal with the weight of the signal equipment on top of my field pack), the marching was really old news to me by then, what with all the marches I have survived up till then. Nevertheless, I would say that every march posed a new challenge and I'm definitely no Superman. Definitely, there were those blurry moments with beads of sweat trickling down my cheeks. The amplified impatience when I'm not quite allowed to put down my field pack despite having reached the pitstop because the platoon waits for everybody to arrive. And not to forget, the physical abrasions in the aftermath that reminded me of how I just survived a terrible internal riot. Of course, look up reconnaissance on Wikipedia and you'll find out that there's much more to a scout than simply walking and marching – but I wouldn't risk carelessly rambling on about every single thing I did here. All I can say is that I learned a lot about the right kind of person to be when the going gets tough, with much thanks to my platoon mates. And I even surprised myself with regards to how much I thought I could take, as well as how far I was willing to step out of my comfort zone. Despite the dread, in retrospect, you could say that it was actually a liberating experience for me... most ironically. But if you asked me if I miss it... not really, I guess. Maybe it just isn't the time to get all sentimental and fuzzy about my NS experiences yet.
I have a feeling this entry has turned out to be totally useless and uninformative. :/ But I guess it at least sends a message to any reader out there that I'm still alive and well I would say, managing OK as a work-in-progress. Maybe one day I'll look beyond all these feelings and experiences, and see myself as a person who's truly changed for the better.
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