Friday, April 30, 2004
On fraudulent behaviors and giveaway pens
Each stapler you've nicked from the office or cab fare you've overclaimed would eventually come back to haunt you some day, believe it or not. The one day you might have to stand up against a bigger fraud, your past no doubt would pull you back into the shadows because you are part of this greater scheme, in a smaller sense. I might as well have been talking about myself because I stand here, as a past recipient and a repeat offender the couple of times I've been set loose in a corporate environment. Indeed, in a way, I am.
The many unrepentant see it as a fringe benefit (cheapskate in local speak) that makes up for the actual remuneration package. It is beyond the monetary value of each item nicked, but an invisible class struggle of sorts to demonstrate self-declared ownership over office-procured stationery amidst oppression and lousy colleagues. Could likewise be the ties (or paper clips, for the matter) that bind likeminded subordinated souls in the face of disapproving managers. It all strangely adds up to motivation and cheap thrills, every passing day somewhat more tolerable in view of potential frills.
The school of thought I subscribe to, is that the more we submit to such a syndicated movement, the less likely we would be to whistleblow on our colleagues. Even if we do, it is not so much in the selfless promotion of righteousness but rather to get back at someone or to make a self-enhancing wise (albeit still highly debatable) career move. Habits no doubt will snowball, but is zero tolerance, as LKY-prescribed, the way to go? The management may feel it a small price to pay for happy staff and perceived benefits yet how ironic it is that fraud in moderation is erm, the key to escaping 42-year jailterms and outright prosecution.
Each stapler you've nicked from the office or cab fare you've overclaimed would eventually come back to haunt you some day, believe it or not. The one day you might have to stand up against a bigger fraud, your past no doubt would pull you back into the shadows because you are part of this greater scheme, in a smaller sense. I might as well have been talking about myself because I stand here, as a past recipient and a repeat offender the couple of times I've been set loose in a corporate environment. Indeed, in a way, I am.
The many unrepentant see it as a fringe benefit (cheapskate in local speak) that makes up for the actual remuneration package. It is beyond the monetary value of each item nicked, but an invisible class struggle of sorts to demonstrate self-declared ownership over office-procured stationery amidst oppression and lousy colleagues. Could likewise be the ties (or paper clips, for the matter) that bind likeminded subordinated souls in the face of disapproving managers. It all strangely adds up to motivation and cheap thrills, every passing day somewhat more tolerable in view of potential frills.
The school of thought I subscribe to, is that the more we submit to such a syndicated movement, the less likely we would be to whistleblow on our colleagues. Even if we do, it is not so much in the selfless promotion of righteousness but rather to get back at someone or to make a self-enhancing wise (albeit still highly debatable) career move. Habits no doubt will snowball, but is zero tolerance, as LKY-prescribed, the way to go? The management may feel it a small price to pay for happy staff and perceived benefits yet how ironic it is that fraud in moderation is erm, the key to escaping 42-year jailterms and outright prosecution.
An unusual funny awkward encounter with a grandfather-ish cab driver; the long story cut short, you just have to attribute it wholly to my perpetual untimeliness. Anyhow, the point is that I took time out to go watch a film fest screening tonight. Morning Sun was worth every bit of it. Hopefully I would be updating soon with a piece on the docu-film and another on fraud (yea, err irrelevant). Drats, got to be up really early tomorrow to work on a struggling project. Pray watch this space, with bated breath.
Thursday, April 29, 2004
As that old time song (re)plays on the laptop stereo, I get burnt out doing nothing significant. I'm feeling it now even as I type. Or rather, I felt it just and so am typing. I'm busy all day, yet I don't feel like I have accomplished anything worthy. No satisfaction, no sense of brimming pride. I sense piling deadlines revision plans project obligations inch ever so menacingly closer from behind. I think I'm stressed; I am typing this not working on some other more urgent task at hand. Irony doesn't get any more blatant than this. The bottomchunk grades of a recent test prick me to no end, yet I'm not as motivated as I need to be. I probably would head to bed soon, the act purely to cement into reality this wasted night.
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
I swear never to take the 66 home from school again, no matter how long I may have to wait for the other usual bus. This is the livingdead equivalent of being squashed in a window seat for more than one stuffy hour, coupled with a barely-working airconditioning system and a busload of the evening rush hour crowd - a mixed bag of noisy kids, tired-looking adults and a frustrated I.
Sunday, April 25, 2004
I'm totally beat, but I seem possessed by a strange impulse to pen this entry tonight while memory still squirms fresh. It was a long, long day today, that started off (self-declared one hour) late with the mandatory morning project meeting, which turned out to be boring and tiresome. Persistent internet searches and page flipping moments, peppered with plenty of questions we couldn't answer ourselves, only ended in futility. Things took a turn for the better in the afternoon when I met up with R and had a great time. It's so uncanny how we hit it off and joke tease talk as if we've known each other for ages, when in fact this is the first time we hang out. We will definitely be doing drinks next time round, before he returns home in a new york minute. The day ended in a dinner appointment at Indochine Waterfront, a splash of conversations against the dimly lit outdoor setting with a tempting view of Bar Opiumé next door. Enjoyable, but I'm frankly too tired to make the best out of it. Slipping out to talk to N on the mobile, that had to be the highlight of the night. Yea, so right huh.
Saturday, April 24, 2004
From FOXNews.com:
"We are all weaker today following this loss," said Michael Bidwell, Cardinals' vice president.
I can understand that, because it echoes the very thought that had gone through my mind so many times since the incident. His passing had made me more empathetic to deaths around me; I don't look at another grieving person quite the same again. Not that I didn't feel for another person's sorrow previously, I can't pinpoint exactly the subtle difference, but I know a (positive) change has been imprinted on me. My thoughts are with Mr. Heng Yeow Peow's family.
"We are all weaker today following this loss," said Michael Bidwell, Cardinals' vice president.
I can understand that, because it echoes the very thought that had gone through my mind so many times since the incident. His passing had made me more empathetic to deaths around me; I don't look at another grieving person quite the same again. Not that I didn't feel for another person's sorrow previously, I can't pinpoint exactly the subtle difference, but I know a (positive) change has been imprinted on me. My thoughts are with Mr. Heng Yeow Peow's family.
Technical issues update: The commenting tool is acting up. If it indicates comments but pops up empty, please click on 'edit comments' within this new box. All shall be revealed in yet another new box.
Thursday, April 22, 2004
Reality check, evidence of something I have always felt for. How wars scar men for life. On homegrounds, I am spending the last couple of days before the dateline doing up a research paper for a module I can't feel for, partly because I had screwed up its test a fortnight ago. I will work harder do better, I tell myself.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Today marks the one month anniversary. And if anyone thinks that the pain has lessened by now, it hasn't. I too didn't realize that, until I saw Tan Tock Seng hospital on tv yesterday; I broke down. Flashbacks had never been so real.
Question: Is there someone out there who would accept me for who I am how I look, inclusive of all the thoughts and quirks that's distinctively me?
Tuesday, April 20, 2004
No surprise why this is making the top news in this island state when trivial matters as such rule the other days. More than a few tried to give their two cents' worth after receiving first-hand text messages, creating quite a furore in the midst of class. It irks me to see how many of my peers, self-proclaimed opinionated soon-to-be-successful undergraduates, seem to think this is what current affairs are all about when more urgent issues are at hand. They rather not spend time discussing issues which make no direct impact upon their sorry Singaporean lives. And presumably superb grades.
(I seem to sound way angrier than I really am; Letting off some steam in the thick of the heat, probably.)
(I seem to sound way angrier than I really am; Letting off some steam in the thick of the heat, probably.)
Monday, April 19, 2004
In a rare act of uninhibited friendliness, I smiled at a woman walking her pair of lovely basset hounds as I hurried through the botanic gardens on my way to school today . She smiled back in return, and I felt good, proving right that a random simple act can indeed brighten up one's day, stranger or not. Later in the day, another stranger, this time male and neatly dressed, smiled at me at the lift lobby. I was so surprised that I actually blurted hi! and got greeted in return. I don't know what had gotten over me, at a loss for logical reactions perhaps.
I didn't think I even felt all that friendly today. Was it a coincidence that they were both expats? Are such the lingering traces of leftover colonial traits, and an over-eager subservient attitude to please O superior white masters? Would I have done the same to fellow Asians? Maybe I ponder too much, over two unpremeditated events. Do I sense self-denial, eh? What I'm absolutely sure of though, is that this society has gotten too self-centered, this has got to be it, among other unflattering reasons. Why else would I get so uptight and cynical over harmless friendly greetings? You tell me.
I didn't think I even felt all that friendly today. Was it a coincidence that they were both expats? Are such the lingering traces of leftover colonial traits, and an over-eager subservient attitude to please O superior white masters? Would I have done the same to fellow Asians? Maybe I ponder too much, over two unpremeditated events. Do I sense self-denial, eh? What I'm absolutely sure of though, is that this society has gotten too self-centered, this has got to be it, among other unflattering reasons. Why else would I get so uptight and cynical over harmless friendly greetings? You tell me.
Sunday, April 18, 2004
The weather has been so sweltering hot in recent weeks that it is a miracle one doesn't hear pedestrians sizzling on concrete sidewalks. Since the past few days, my sister and I have taken to wearing camisoles and shorts at home in the afternoons. It's amazing how effective this can be, likewise with the mom proclaiming how scantily clad her girls have apparently become.
Saturday, April 17, 2004
From TODAYonline:
On Friday, Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi was irked when asked about their desire to return.
"A great number of people in the government, forgetting food and sleep, worked for their rescue … They should realise this," said Mr Koizumi, who faced the worst crisis of his administration as Tokyo worked for their release.
The foreign ministry said Tokyo would bill the three for part of the cost of chartering an aircraft to transport them from Baghdad to Dubai.
The three would also have to pay for a medical check-up and the flight from Dubai to Japan.
Most likely, we won't know the exact circumstances that had resulted in their kidnapping or release, but I find it ridiculous that they should be made to give up what they had originally set out to do. There's nothing wrong in returning home to announce their safety and give thanks, but lives shouldn't be changed just because of this episode. If it does, the Saraya al-Mujahedeen (Mujahedeen Brigades) would have, well sort of, succeeded in achieving their aims. I don't see why Koizumi should be irritated other than for reasons linked to his political endeavors. To him and his cronies, such episodes would always result in hard-to-handle crisis situations that diplomats want to avoid unlike model PR babies-carrying trigger-happy events. No matter how politically-correct the administration would in the end put it, to me it will simply be vengeance 'killing' on their part by billing the three on the costs incurred to transport them safely back to Japan. Don't governments of today uphold and value individual rights... at all? Considering that the governments might have secretly paid off the terrorists or concluded some under-the-table deals to secure releases, they probably don't.
On Friday, Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi was irked when asked about their desire to return.
"A great number of people in the government, forgetting food and sleep, worked for their rescue … They should realise this," said Mr Koizumi, who faced the worst crisis of his administration as Tokyo worked for their release.
The foreign ministry said Tokyo would bill the three for part of the cost of chartering an aircraft to transport them from Baghdad to Dubai.
The three would also have to pay for a medical check-up and the flight from Dubai to Japan.
Most likely, we won't know the exact circumstances that had resulted in their kidnapping or release, but I find it ridiculous that they should be made to give up what they had originally set out to do. There's nothing wrong in returning home to announce their safety and give thanks, but lives shouldn't be changed just because of this episode. If it does, the Saraya al-Mujahedeen (Mujahedeen Brigades) would have, well sort of, succeeded in achieving their aims. I don't see why Koizumi should be irritated other than for reasons linked to his political endeavors. To him and his cronies, such episodes would always result in hard-to-handle crisis situations that diplomats want to avoid unlike model PR babies-carrying trigger-happy events. No matter how politically-correct the administration would in the end put it, to me it will simply be vengeance 'killing' on their part by billing the three on the costs incurred to transport them safely back to Japan. Don't governments of today uphold and value individual rights... at all? Considering that the governments might have secretly paid off the terrorists or concluded some under-the-table deals to secure releases, they probably don't.
In a way, the incident has made me more vulnerable. Where is the strength that so many have spoken of? At the very least, I know strength isn't about about crying on the bus. I never used to cry so easily. In my mind, I always picture him standing alone, close by but not with us. His death has isolated him, a lonely figure forcibly separated from us. I have grown stronger, but not in the way people would have liked me to be, the scaredy cat of yesteryears is now not afraid of encounters of the third dimension. Not anymore.
On an unrelated note, N just called to say he's back, fresh off the tarmac. A close shave with unpunctuality, it is barely seconds to Saturday. Not that I minded, though.
On an unrelated note, N just called to say he's back, fresh off the tarmac. A close shave with unpunctuality, it is barely seconds to Saturday. Not that I minded, though.
Friday, April 16, 2004
TRIPLETS
I had not felt so genuinely happy in a long while. I was tired out after all the activities but yesterday was awesome indeed, not to forget that it was a day-off from all projects-related matters. As the Peace Boat students coordinator (Singapore), I had a great time working with J the international coordinator and making sure that everyone else would enjoy themselves during this cultural exchange. Through it all, I got to board a docked ship, resisted temptation to purchase duty-free Baileys/Absolut (and regretting it), was sabotaged by J to make an impromptu speech to a crowd of 100+ and met R, this exchange student from school who is in ROTC (!). By chance, we didn't know each other until he signed up for this event; we promise to hang out before he returns to US this May.
I had not felt so genuinely happy in a long while. I was tired out after all the activities but yesterday was awesome indeed, not to forget that it was a day-off from all projects-related matters. As the Peace Boat students coordinator (Singapore), I had a great time working with J the international coordinator and making sure that everyone else would enjoy themselves during this cultural exchange. Through it all, I got to board a docked ship, resisted temptation to purchase duty-free Baileys/Absolut (and regretting it), was sabotaged by J to make an impromptu speech to a crowd of 100+ and met R, this exchange student from school who is in ROTC (!). By chance, we didn't know each other until he signed up for this event; we promise to hang out before he returns to US this May.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
From hyperdictionary:
Long-Distance Call
Definition: [n] a telephone call made outside the local calling area
Facts appear cold and impersonal, but truth warms the heart in fact.
Long-Distance Call
Definition: [n] a telephone call made outside the local calling area
Facts appear cold and impersonal, but truth warms the heart in fact.
Tuesday, April 13, 2004
From University of Maryland Medicine:
The danger of chest pain:
It is important to know that restricted blood flow to the heart:
• usually occurs before the heart attack happens.
• may happen days, weeks, or even months before the heart attack occurs.
• may be mild and easy to ignore.
• may be confused with indigestion.
• may be confused with sore muscles.
Warning signs of a heart attack:
In some, but not all, cases, the body will send warning signs that indicate a heart attack. These include:
• uncomfortable pressure, fullness, squeezing, pain, or discomfort in the center of the chest that lasts for more than two minutes. This pain may be persistent, or may go away and return.
• pain or discomfort that spreads to the shoulders, neck, or arms
• pain, sweating, nausea, or shortness of breath.
• any chest discomfort that causes anxiety or concern
• any chest discomfort that is accompanied by lightheadedness, fainting, or dizziness
• any of the above symptoms that disappear with rest, then return with exertion
• unexplained weakness or fatigue
• palpitations, cold sweat, or paleness
I just googled a search on the above, not for no reason. I had experienced a sharp squeeze/tug at my heart as I was feeling extremely stressed over my workload when I was about to leave school just now. I know this is not the grieving heartache I have been experiencing; I have never felt this way before. I can't help it but think that this might be exactly what had happened to him moments, or days before he collapsed. I tried to calm myself down, breathe deeply and relax, as I walked to the bus-stop. I don't know what is happening to me. Possibly anything.
The danger of chest pain:
It is important to know that restricted blood flow to the heart:
• usually occurs before the heart attack happens.
• may happen days, weeks, or even months before the heart attack occurs.
• may be mild and easy to ignore.
• may be confused with indigestion.
• may be confused with sore muscles.
Warning signs of a heart attack:
In some, but not all, cases, the body will send warning signs that indicate a heart attack. These include:
• uncomfortable pressure, fullness, squeezing, pain, or discomfort in the center of the chest that lasts for more than two minutes. This pain may be persistent, or may go away and return.
• pain or discomfort that spreads to the shoulders, neck, or arms
• pain, sweating, nausea, or shortness of breath.
• any chest discomfort that causes anxiety or concern
• any chest discomfort that is accompanied by lightheadedness, fainting, or dizziness
• any of the above symptoms that disappear with rest, then return with exertion
• unexplained weakness or fatigue
• palpitations, cold sweat, or paleness
I just googled a search on the above, not for no reason. I had experienced a sharp squeeze/tug at my heart as I was feeling extremely stressed over my workload when I was about to leave school just now. I know this is not the grieving heartache I have been experiencing; I have never felt this way before. I can't help it but think that this might be exactly what had happened to him moments, or days before he collapsed. I tried to calm myself down, breathe deeply and relax, as I walked to the bus-stop. I don't know what is happening to me. Possibly anything.
Monday, April 12, 2004
Random facts, Random knacks
- He reads fragments of the blog over the telephone.
- He does not carry a mobile, for the weirdest of reasons to most.
- He likes to read about what is blog-written about him.
- He will fly to Oz tomorrow evening (but be back byThursday Friday).
- He is intrigued by all the attention he is getting, those stares!
- He wants to sell off his cousin to your girlfriends, or mine for that matter.
- He reads fragments of the blog over the telephone.
- He does not carry a mobile, for the weirdest of reasons to most.
- He likes to read about what is blog-written about him.
- He will fly to Oz tomorrow evening (but be back by
- He is intrigued by all the attention he is getting, those stares!
- He wants to sell off his cousin to your girlfriends, or mine for that matter.
Sunday, April 11, 2004
I want to go tomorrow, but I can't find company amongst the exams-stifled crowd; well next time perhaps, come 26 Apr and 3 May. Do your part for the local musik scene, interested parties please let me know.
Update: Just realized there is a minimum 25/23 patrons age at venue. Argh.
Update: Just realized there is a minimum 25/23 patrons age at venue. Argh.
Suffocation, Desired
Like spring
that flickers this hot summer,
you never know the weather can fluctuate at
the rate of a heartbeat
unbelieveable, voice from a hidden guise can
smother the dullness out of
a day
looking forward to hearing from you
never had sounded so
real, freshly-inhaled. The lifeless cell lies limp
on the table, yearning to be stroked
into hopes
dancing dreams come alive.
the calming effect, a gaslit flame.
This pulse of affections
has asphyxiated me in
all of you.
Like spring
that flickers this hot summer,
you never know the weather can fluctuate at
the rate of a heartbeat
unbelieveable, voice from a hidden guise can
smother the dullness out of
a day
looking forward to hearing from you
never had sounded so
real, freshly-inhaled. The lifeless cell lies limp
on the table, yearning to be stroked
into hopes
dancing dreams come alive.
the calming effect, a gaslit flame.
This pulse of affections
has asphyxiated me in
all of you.
Friday, April 09, 2004
Beats me either, what this is all about. But it makes me smile.
To withdraw or not to withdraw? It is impossible NOT to fall when balanced precariously on this diplomatic tightrope. There is no other way.
Why do people not call private educationists who charge exorbitant rates for exclusive education mercenaries? People don't call those highflying execs from government agenices who jobhop to profiteering corporations mercenaries either because they contribute to the developments in their fields, and are a boost to the private economy.
These guys are no different. They excel in what they do, and there's only so much federal tax dollars can do. That's why, to quote them in their own words, their existence since 1996 has been "to fulfill the anticipated demand for government outsourcing of firearms and related security training."
The dangers they face don't get noticed until things happen. So don't call them mercenaries. Right, they are professional soldiers who receive better compensation, but they too are working towards rebuilding Iraq, albeit in a slightly different form, in today's corporatized world.
These guys are no different. They excel in what they do, and there's only so much federal tax dollars can do. That's why, to quote them in their own words, their existence since 1996 has been "to fulfill the anticipated demand for government outsourcing of firearms and related security training."
The dangers they face don't get noticed until things happen. So don't call them mercenaries. Right, they are professional soldiers who receive better compensation, but they too are working towards rebuilding Iraq, albeit in a slightly different form, in today's corporatized world.
Thursday, April 08, 2004
From Knowledge@Wharton:
In general, the foreign privilege phenomenon seems to be more pronounced in Latin America and Eastern and Central Europe, although it exists in East Asia as well.
“To entice the same level of investment, a host government may have no choice but to treat foreign firms better,” he writes. “… Some of the most authoritarian countries in the world – China now and Singapore in the 1970s and 1980s – are among the top recipients of FDI in the world.”
Times have changed, we do that to people here now. It can be interesting to note that this article applies equally to the source-of-human-resource debates in the ever-relevant foreign talent, local heartlanders issue.
Huang also raised the possibility that foreign firms’ relative lack of participation in the social and cultural affairs of a nation may actually make them more likely to be favored. “Precisely because foreigners do not participate in some countries, politicians like them more. If politicians seek to maximize control and domestic firms participate in politics, then maybe the politicians want foreigners to come. They don’t want [domestic] firms to meddle with their policymaking.”
It hits you in the face, that the government's seemingly-cosmopolitan hip Uniquely Singapore democratic less-censorship more-gum trendy facade perhaps is hiding an agenda no less sinister than this.
In general, the foreign privilege phenomenon seems to be more pronounced in Latin America and Eastern and Central Europe, although it exists in East Asia as well.
“To entice the same level of investment, a host government may have no choice but to treat foreign firms better,” he writes. “… Some of the most authoritarian countries in the world – China now and Singapore in the 1970s and 1980s – are among the top recipients of FDI in the world.”
Times have changed, we do that to people here now. It can be interesting to note that this article applies equally to the source-of-human-resource debates in the ever-relevant foreign talent, local heartlanders issue.
Huang also raised the possibility that foreign firms’ relative lack of participation in the social and cultural affairs of a nation may actually make them more likely to be favored. “Precisely because foreigners do not participate in some countries, politicians like them more. If politicians seek to maximize control and domestic firms participate in politics, then maybe the politicians want foreigners to come. They don’t want [domestic] firms to meddle with their policymaking.”
It hits you in the face, that the government's seemingly-cosmopolitan hip Uniquely Singapore democratic less-censorship more-gum trendy facade perhaps is hiding an agenda no less sinister than this.
Our behavior surprises even ourselves sometimes. I'd thought I am recovering ok, adjusting back into the rigid momentum of school life, post incident. I'd reckoned I am beyond this stage, but turns out I am not. I buried my tear stricken face into the pillow last night after hearing that Nelly Furtado song chorus on the radio. It is difficult to fall asleep with a post-breakdown blocked nose and apparently weariness does not come at the times when you are ready to commit into his arms.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
Today. Two Tests (of Three).
I sit now in class, my first test down (and out). The greater of the two evils will claim its first victims later at 2pm sharp. As drones on linear programming continue, I digest half-heartedly, the coffee/muffin contents of my final brunch.
I sit now in class, my first test down (and out). The greater of the two evils will claim its first victims later at 2pm sharp. As drones on linear programming continue, I digest half-heartedly, the coffee/muffin contents of my final brunch.
Tuesday, April 06, 2004
I now weigh 49kg, unfed. The scales haven't been tipping this way for quite a while, although I have to admit they were in the proximate region.
This is probably a cumulative result of eating less, irregular sleeping hours, some exercise, and more recently, his death, my sorrow. Ok, I wouldn't exactly make a fuss if I get to shed another two kilos off... but I want my weight to remain this way, sorrow included. I don't want time to heal anything because with time, the surest and only thing that can happen is him fading away.
This is probably a cumulative result of eating less, irregular sleeping hours, some exercise, and more recently, his death, my sorrow. Ok, I wouldn't exactly make a fuss if I get to shed another two kilos off... but I want my weight to remain this way, sorrow included. I don't want time to heal anything because with time, the surest and only thing that can happen is him fading away.
Monday, April 05, 2004
From WorldNetDaily.com:
"If any one cuts the ear of another, his ear is to be cut in return," wrote the sheikh. "If he inflicts any physical damage on anyone, he should be retaliated against in the same manner. In case of war, Muslims are allowed to take vengeance for their mutliated dead strugglers in the same way it was done to them."
The sheikh cited the Quranic verse: "If ye punish, then punish with the like of that wherewith ye were inflicted. But if ye endure patiently, verily it is better for the patient."
The Fallujah incident last week demonstrated not for the first time, the perspectival, cultural and response asymmetry in this war. Right from the onset, we are able to see how Americans deal with and react to situations according to the principles of international law, simply because it is deemed a civilized superpower. We also witness how many Iraqis still retort to the unjust occupation by the basis of misinterpreted religious teachings and primitive barbaric means. While military asymmetry might have tweaked the war to the coalition troops' advantage, its commanders remain mere hostages to the game and its soldiers, vulnerable victims to random destructive acts by an enemy who does not play by the rules.
On another note, the superiority of the arms technology does not determine the level of barbaric atrocity. Killings in a war could be justifiable homicide, but no matter how far along we attempt to stretch, mutilation is beyond justification, primarily an act of vengeance that runs tangents off the customary laws of war. In following the argument, the sophistication of weaponry too, may not justify the killings of hundreds of soldiers as well. Explosives used in modern warfare is also capable of killing and mutilating soldiers beyond recognition, in lack of complete remains. Technical failure is common resulting in missed targets and civilian casualties - is that not an act of barbaric atrocity as well, regardless of the 'intention' defence since both paths would result in the same carnage?
Undoubtedly, this will lead to the question of (intended and accidental) participants in the war, where combatant killings are not considered criminal acts but where combatant-civilian killings weigh on a mixed bag of other issues. You may want to go here for a well-written comprehensive analysis which has delved into the said issues, in particular on the - combatant or non-combatant - definition of the contractors' status.
"If any one cuts the ear of another, his ear is to be cut in return," wrote the sheikh. "If he inflicts any physical damage on anyone, he should be retaliated against in the same manner. In case of war, Muslims are allowed to take vengeance for their mutliated dead strugglers in the same way it was done to them."
The sheikh cited the Quranic verse: "If ye punish, then punish with the like of that wherewith ye were inflicted. But if ye endure patiently, verily it is better for the patient."
The Fallujah incident last week demonstrated not for the first time, the perspectival, cultural and response asymmetry in this war. Right from the onset, we are able to see how Americans deal with and react to situations according to the principles of international law, simply because it is deemed a civilized superpower. We also witness how many Iraqis still retort to the unjust occupation by the basis of misinterpreted religious teachings and primitive barbaric means. While military asymmetry might have tweaked the war to the coalition troops' advantage, its commanders remain mere hostages to the game and its soldiers, vulnerable victims to random destructive acts by an enemy who does not play by the rules.
On another note, the superiority of the arms technology does not determine the level of barbaric atrocity. Killings in a war could be justifiable homicide, but no matter how far along we attempt to stretch, mutilation is beyond justification, primarily an act of vengeance that runs tangents off the customary laws of war. In following the argument, the sophistication of weaponry too, may not justify the killings of hundreds of soldiers as well. Explosives used in modern warfare is also capable of killing and mutilating soldiers beyond recognition, in lack of complete remains. Technical failure is common resulting in missed targets and civilian casualties - is that not an act of barbaric atrocity as well, regardless of the 'intention' defence since both paths would result in the same carnage?
Undoubtedly, this will lead to the question of (intended and accidental) participants in the war, where combatant killings are not considered criminal acts but where combatant-civilian killings weigh on a mixed bag of other issues. You may want to go here for a well-written comprehensive analysis which has delved into the said issues, in particular on the - combatant or non-combatant - definition of the contractors' status.
When will this end? The fall of every soldier leads to an ordeal, the pain of which that inevitably gets multiplied tens, hundreds of times far in his distant homeland. The mothers, wives, daughters, and all their loved ones who foresaw the bloodshed but had tried to look the other way, hoping things wouldn't turn this way in the end. But, they did.
I can't sleep when I'm supposed to be in bed. My biological clock can't reverse the damage already done. Either that, or it is reacting too slowly for its own good.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
I think N wrote this.
LOST
Are you lost, little one?
Don't know how you got here,
or where you're going now?
What does being lost feel like?
Do you feel scared, like I do
when I'm lost?
Or upset, like when
I've lost?
Maybe you're in that
warm, secret, fuzzy compartment
hiding in the dryer
where all my lost socks have gone...
You know, through it all
I've always admired you.
And some day, I'll get lost,
and be together with you.
LOST
Are you lost, little one?
Don't know how you got here,
or where you're going now?
What does being lost feel like?
Do you feel scared, like I do
when I'm lost?
Or upset, like when
I've lost?
Maybe you're in that
warm, secret, fuzzy compartment
hiding in the dryer
where all my lost socks have gone...
You know, through it all
I've always admired you.
And some day, I'll get lost,
and be together with you.
When Iraqi policemen are slain, it is part of the stats. When my good friend died, my heart bleeds anguish and painful questions that go unanswered. Do the frequency and proximity of events take a toll on our emotions? Regrettably, it does; our loved ones don't die by the day. We are less empathetic than we wish we can be, alas mere mortals, and fallible.
Saturday, April 03, 2004
I will work on the avalanche of assignments projects and play the catching-up. I am not the best kid around, but I will try to be. I will pick up the pieces, get on with life from today onwards.
To call this moving on would be politically correct but not wholly appropriate, because I am not the bystander consoling his distraught friends nor am I the emotionally detached reader who flips the newspaper page over. The fact of the matter is, you* are not me. It is not your fault, or mine, if you are helpless. I appreciate the concern but some people (no specific persons in mind) do get on my nerves with their advice and queries. Sorry if I have not been replying to text or instant messages, I just don't feel like it. You might not be what I am making you out to be, I might not have been talking about you even. But, if I'm not talking to you yet, that probably means I am not ready to yet. I still need some space. Not your fault, or mine. You were just trying to be nice. And I know that.
* Implies plural usage at all times in this entry
To call this moving on would be politically correct but not wholly appropriate, because I am not the bystander consoling his distraught friends nor am I the emotionally detached reader who flips the newspaper page over. The fact of the matter is, you* are not me. It is not your fault, or mine, if you are helpless. I appreciate the concern but some people (no specific persons in mind) do get on my nerves with their advice and queries. Sorry if I have not been replying to text or instant messages, I just don't feel like it. You might not be what I am making you out to be, I might not have been talking about you even. But, if I'm not talking to you yet, that probably means I am not ready to yet. I still need some space. Not your fault, or mine. You were just trying to be nice. And I know that.
* Implies plural usage at all times in this entry
Friday, April 02, 2004
This is the first match after the incident, a commemorative match in his name. We played in our jerseys with black arm bands, in between light mistlike drizzles and after pouring rain. Many of his post-death events were uncannily marked by rain, perhaps it is his way of letting us know that he knows. As I later walked out of school to the bus-stop, his missing presence more amplified than ever before, I realize it is the first time I am doing so alone, without his company. Maybe because I was more vulnerable that moment, I cried on the bus as I heard Nelly Furtado's Try on the radio. I don't know why but I think I'll always associate the song with his passing; the chorus gets me especially bad, mostly because of how the soulful melody pounces on me, almost unawares. (Below are chorus lyrics, essentially to demonstrate their irrelevancy)
Then I see you standing there
Wanting more from me
And all I can do is try
Then I see you standing there
Wanting more from me
And all I can do is try
Try
Then I see you standing there
Wanting more from me
And all I can do is try
Then I see you standing there
Wanting more from me
And all I can do is try
Try
The said habit below recurred today.
It's not the end of the world; definitely, not after Wednesday's somewhat close shave with death along Bukit Timah Road.
I had thought I just might be able to meet N for a while in the morning. To be frank, it was the only (cheerful) thing that had kept me going all week. I'm not mad or anything because I know how much the other thing means to him. Am just disappointed. I thought I could do with a boost of sorts somewhere, in between now and the trying times of my week to come. Note forcible participation in three tough tests. Well, in the end, things did turn out to be exactly what had been in my mind all along, just a thought.
Afternote: The eventual phone call and doggie thing did presumably make up for the hasty turn of events.
I had thought I just might be able to meet N for a while in the morning. To be frank, it was the only (cheerful) thing that had kept me going all week. I'm not mad or anything because I know how much the other thing means to him. Am just disappointed. I thought I could do with a boost of sorts somewhere, in between now and the trying times of my week to come. Note forcible participation in three tough tests. Well, in the end, things did turn out to be exactly what had been in my mind all along, just a thought.
Afternote: The eventual phone call and doggie thing did presumably make up for the hasty turn of events.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
I had written a eulogy for him just now. Tomorrow, I just might have to make the short speech before the commemorative match.
Not everybody loses sleep after trauma. My grief brings me no sleepless nights. A habit, this has become of late especially during weekends and on days I am off school - I woke up a couple of times this morning, and dozed back into an uncomfortable slumber. I finally got up at about 1.45pm proper. Half my day gone, and looks like I'm spending the other half idling as three quizzes loom ominously near.
The psychologist said the other day, pain and sorrow is the price we each have to pay for love. She made alot of sense in that single line, I think. Not until it is too late, we all have never realized how much we love him. Unlike the others, we are too attached to withdraw into indifference, to put up a shield against the impending heartache. Caught in the tangle of throbbing emotions, the solemn responsibility rests upon me - to grieve. If not me, then who, in school?
I have actually begun feeling slightly better but I haven't been able to refrain from feeling guilty. Guilt weighs down my every unwilling step towards normalcy. Have I already stopped grieving, my feelings dulled since? Memories hurt, but do not seem to pierce as much. This is what I have been dreading all along, isn't it? Gradual detachment. Has my mind filed him into a memory slot already, even before the tears have dried? Somewhere inside of me, I know I do not want to recover from the trauma. To move on would mean losing yet another piece of him, I cannot afford that, not now not ever.
I have actually begun feeling slightly better but I haven't been able to refrain from feeling guilty. Guilt weighs down my every unwilling step towards normalcy. Have I already stopped grieving, my feelings dulled since? Memories hurt, but do not seem to pierce as much. This is what I have been dreading all along, isn't it? Gradual detachment. Has my mind filed him into a memory slot already, even before the tears have dried? Somewhere inside of me, I know I do not want to recover from the trauma. To move on would mean losing yet another piece of him, I cannot afford that, not now not ever.
