Choler

You know how some people claim that blogging is cathartic ; that blogging is this generation's method of letting out all those pent-up frustrations. I'm holding them to their word.

So I've POP-ed. That wasn't a start, or the end. Well there's block leave, but it's merely a two-week adjournment while They decide how best to agonize us further. It is just a well-placed illusion that would have us think that 3 months of torture makes it Okay to torture us some more for another 21 months. It's not okay, and there're a million things I'd rather do in these 630 days. My life is stalled for some inane national policy that decrees that all 18 year old males be made to live an intellectually unfulfiliing, economically detrimental and socially alienated existence for two burning years.

Yes I am an angst-inundated teenager who places his own well-being above that of the nation. So what? This is hardly a country worth saving.

"Pain is temporary. Pride is forever." With close reference to the assumed definition of "pride", the treatment of army personnel, and the recompense and renumeration offered, discuss the validity of this claim.

This hasn't been a totally enjoyable block leave in the sense that I can imagine myself having more fun over 12 purposeless days BEFORE being assimilated into the army. For lack of a better explanation, I tentatively attribute it to duller wit, a handicapped or total lack of connection with the real world and permanent trauma sustained through BMT (I know, this sums up the previous two. I'm saying it so I don't exclude the other unmentioned symptoms.)

Nobody cares. Nobody gives a damn about NSmen. We are the scum of society not least because of our inaptitude or infidelity, but an unlucky genetic and geographical coincidence that made us male and Singaporean.

Tell me that there is no alternative to national defence. Tell me that our fathers, uncles, grandfathers... were all there before. None of that changes any of the unfair marginalisation and handicaps that a Singaporean male faces during and after national service. We trudge through jungles, juggle high pyrotechnics and live rounds and receive a pittance that not even the authorities responsible dare call salary.

And my point? There is no prospect to look forward to in national service and because I am made to perform this purposeless task, I have lost my own purpose.

Chicks, you owe me loads for protecting your damned country.

And yeah, I do feel better now, thanks.