Thursday, July 21, 2005
Golden Hits
As I listen to Alphaville's "Forever Young", I suddenly had this thought.
It's probably a stupid trend that is so bloody obvious that no one actually bothers to care to notice except me. Ever since I left the world of adolescence behind me, which wasn't very long ago, I can't help but feel like age is truly catching up on me. Well I'm not saying that I'm developing brittle bones and dementia or that sort. But it's just that the innocence and naivety that I once took so absent-mindedly for granted, not noticing the fact that it'll dawn on me one day that I'll be an adult and have to face the horrid realities of life, have already been superseded by something called responsibility. Just so you know, this isn't an entry about the philosophy of my life that I'm charting... I would think of it as more of a contemplation, as with previous entries...
Don't we miss the jovial and carefree yester years? When we were absolutely clueless - yet totally can't be bothered - about why our parents were so tired after a whole day of work although we believed that we, toddlers, played as hard as they worked and ran as fast they did to get us from the childcare centre after work? Subsequently, as we entered the teenage years we began to see light. Some flickering dim ray light. Work is stressful and stress induces fatigue. So what? We had tonnes of homework projects and tests every other week. Furthermore, we were made to participate in co-curriculum activities after school. How's that for stress? Oh yes, one last thing that I just happen to remember: uniforms (translate: unreasonably strict school rules).
Despite all these, in the end, we were still not in the slightest bit sure of what adulthood really was - until our turn, which will come. Ignorance was bliss.
But now that I've come of age, things are in the clearest range of view. I love school. I wish I can study for a living.
Any guess why people just enjoy the rustic sounds of the 50s to the discotheque hits of the 80s?
Once in a while I would find myself swaying to the tunes of Frank and Nancy Sinatra's "Something Stupid" or Toto's "Africa", considering that I'm not a fan of oldies. But such soothing and familiar tunes bring back nostalgic emotions, liken to the olden days... The past. Aren't we all warm-blooded creatures in need of sweet old memories and daydreams to keep our quick-paced and exaggerated lives in check? That we need to take a break occasionally and perhaps just relax into the couch and ponder upon our journey on Earth so far? Wondering why we did what we did and enjoying it so much, without a thought. Going back in time during those moments are reminders of the good old days of clueless fun: Flashes of faces I've seen, friends I've had, places I've been and things I knew I shouldn't have done but committed.
I'm not complaining about the ease and comfort of modern day life. Nobody would wish to return to the time where every single decision was made by one's parents without exceptions. But the simplicity and happy-go-lucky days of the past - that would never return - is so tempting. Simply because there just wasn't such a thing called responsibility, then.
Despite my repeated whinings and never-ending carping, I survived my first orientation camp fine... Perhaps even satisfied of the camp's outcome, although I still hold dear to my debasing notions of orientation camps - in general.
Ever since the Army days, maintaining personal sanitation has been of utmost importance to me amongst many others. It's just a way of emphasizing to myself that I will not let myself endure such harsh living conditions again except for reservist periods.
Camp's still a place to get everyone wet and dirty and soiled, to run around like madmen only to be served distasteful dinners. Yet the obvious remuneration is invaluable - friends. Of course I'm speaking in the context whereby no major internal conflict arises within the group. Heaven's been kind to grant my orientation group with sensibly cooperating and fun-loving slackers. I'm not complaining about the food for just this once because of that.
But that doesn't mean I'm going to spend less time with my present steadfast cliques.
This is just another new chapter.
Neat.
Soon everything will be set in motion. It'll be an irreversible event. Nothing (well, almost) can come in it's way. The moment that has been the focus of many people's attention. It's D-day!
I wonder how my school mates will be like. The thought of meeting new people and lecturers brings mixed emotions and thoughts into my flustered mind. It's another time of making new friends and connections and setting into a new environment. Another fresh - and probably final - phase in my academic life. It is still studying, no doubt. Exams, projects and datelines are still ubiquitous. Lectures are to be attended without fail... Sigh. But now, there're no more uniforms and ridiculously strict rules to adhere to; blond or cyan dyed hair, gold chain and diamond rings are the norm. Cheers!
However, before school commences, there's orientation camp.
It's fun, challenging, a test of one's mental endurance and surely an effective method to gain friends and expand one's contact list. Or it can be a sleep-depriving, lousy food tasting, skin damaging, enervating and time wasting programme. It's individual perference.
Interlude: Some irritating person (Head of the House) just have to sleep so damn early even when half the population's probably still actively engaging in certain activities other than sleeping. I've to rush through this piece, unfortunately.
I am not in favour of orientation. It robs me of the pleasures of the spring mattress, makes access to whatever food I want difficult and sap my energy, which could have otherwise been expended on other more productive activities, away. I get dirt and wet on every part of my body and apparels (It's some adventure camp, by the way), grilled under the scorching sun and only to return home drained out and charred. Who knows whether I've actually made more friends or foes, gained experience or suffered unreasonable torture. Orientation sucks. I cannot wait for it to end, now that I've realized that it's starting in less than 48 hours time.
P.S. I can go on. But his droning is driving me up the wall.
The side effects include droopy eye bags and expanded waistline. I love birthdays and chalets, or birthdays in chalets. Whatever. The thing about birthdays and holiday chalets is that there're always plenty of delicious but carcinogenic and fat laden food around. The perfect way to eat yourself to an early death. But many people love it. I love it. Apart from the cake and catered dishes, I just cannot stop gorging on barbecued crab sticks, honey-glazed chicken wings and Taiwan sausages, all slightly burnt for added tastiness. Bon appetit!
But there's one issue. These delightfully sinful cuisine lack all the essential dietary fibre required for proper bowel movement.
Disregarding the possible presence of unsanitized utensils, undercooked or improperly washed meats that will induce bowel discomforts (LS/PS), the absence of dietary fibre in barbecued food is definitely not going to make any toilet trips thereafter any easier. I can foresee one or two very likely cases of constipation (GS - Gek Sai). How is it that so many people do not experience constipation when I'm so vulnerable to it... It happens to me almost everytime I return from such chalet-cum-birthday trips. So much so that it has spurred me to put my thinking cap on.
After a random analysis in view of this recurrent problem, I came to the conclusion that it's has got to be the insufficient consumption of fluid, coupled with a fibre free diet of crackers, tidbits and barbecued food that has resulted in constipation. It's been chips and wings and coke and crab sticks throughout the entire amount of time spent there. There's no more feasible reasons that I can put my finger on. Constipation is terrible but that's the price to pay for such an indulgence.
Few things can keep us awake throughout a night and feeling alert. Mahjong is the answer to burning the midnight oil at chalets. Once you start, you can't stop.
Although financial loss or revenue can fluctuate dramatically, it's one game that allows one's mind, mouth and arms to work in tandem. Think fast, act fast. Any hesitations might just change the winds of luck and fortune for many. It's a game that keeps players on the toes constantly, where the shrewd and adept dominate over the inexperienced and forgetful slowcoaches. I'm embarrassed to confess that I'm an amateur belonging to the latter group in all aspects. Nonetheless the excitement and anticipation that surrounds the players in mahjong truly are tempting.
For many the appeal of the game is mainly the winnings, but the company and gamesmanship are important complements. Who would want to play mahjong with someone who's temperamental and prone to frequent violation of even the most minute rules of the game? Then again, people of such nature are few and far between. I've no such friends.
In the end, it's all in the good name of fair play and having fun while gambling. I enjoyed my hitherto few sessions with my friends thoroughly. I'm already looking forward to the next game with them, every other day.
P.S. I still cling on religiously to the fact - or belief - that playing mahjong reduces the risk of developing Alzheimer's disease.