Excuse me for not being a patriot (Part 1)

Well, the title does say everything does it?
I just have the feeling that right now, every single keystroke i am making is being closely monitored by that of the Government and at any moment, men with guns and black bag are going to smash meladromatically right through my windows and black bag my head for spreading material that isnt quite supportive of the Government.

If you call that spreading.

Well bad news for your Mr-I-want-to-smash-thru-the-windows because those particular windows, though mere glass, is coupled with solid steel grilles behind them. So tantamount to smashing yourself thru my delightful green tinted windows, and into some very uncomfortable steel bars, i should ask you to knock on my door and perhaps we could have tea.

Well, why wouldnt I say I am a patriot?
Perhaps its only because almost none of us are, whether subconsciously or perhaps as blatant as I am. I am not a patriot because, well,
- I hate the idea of conscription (even though thats where I am now)
- This country runs on an illusion of freedom
- We have no real roots. Even as a young country.

First off. Ah yes, the bane of every single young man who does live in Singapore. At the age of 18, where we have finally come about the legal age of the ability to poison our livers with alcohol, watch a show where actual skin is showed and of course confidently walk up to a counter at 7-11 and buy a packet of cigarettes without having to fumble and come up with weak excuses for not having a valid ID. I say, quite a sentence there. But then again, I digress.

It almost seems as though the Government wants to keep the guys alive a bit longer by restricting freedom at such a tender age. Yes, yes I do know Women live longer than Men but there really is no need for such extremity.

Shaved bald, shoved off to a second rate housing on a desert island with food that could kill you before you actually bite into it. There we endure a minimum of 8 weeks of basic military training, at the same time, roleplaying a dog where our actions corresponds to the whims of superiors. Yes of course I'll crawl across the scorching hot granite parade square on my belly. Oh yes of course I'll run up and down the stairs till my muscles tear just for your amusement. Oh barky barky.

Perhaps i shan't go further into the elaboration of Basic Military Training. After all, whats inevitable will be inevitable, and everyone has heard too much of the stories and of course the older population of males who have been relieved of duty probably could care less for another session of whining on the lives of army by young men who have yet to serve their two years. Yet, they forget, years ago it was them who experienced the same thing and watched in envy as their peers churned out four figure salaries, partied every weekend and woke up only when the sun rose already.

I myself am rather distraught at the decomposition of my persona, my language and even my own physcial outlook. I have toughened over my year odd stay in the army so far, to the extent of coolness and unfeeling, have reached the very heart of my family. "Mean" and "Cold" are perhaps the two core words Dear Mother has used on me. My language was perhaps the next to go. Ahhh, English, perhaps my most proficient language and to me, a linguistic fare. A language so delicious and so old. A language that evolves with modern day speech and yet should the language fashion of perhaps a hundred years ago be used again on this very day, it would still be beautiful. Perhaps in the army, something went quite astray somewhere.

We were lead by British many years ago, the capitol of English and yet today, men in the army can hardly form a single sentence without butchering or decapitating vocabulary or grammar. Words like "Irregardless." and sentences like "I make the entrie theatre laughed." are perhaps the tip of a very deep iceberg. One that would have put the thing that sunk the Titanic to a huge shame. There, people who actually speak good English are classified as the Rich, the Educated, the Show-offs. Yes, having a good command of English actually means that you are the brunt of the many many jokes and sniggers, how odd is that! I suppose none of them has actually seen My Fair Lady. Eliza Doolittle spoke with an accent far more arousing and a grammar far more perfect and she was already laughed at. Oh, there we go, I'm being laughed at for having watched such a show as "My Fair Lady."

As for my physical outlook, thanks to the meagre chances for hygiene upkeep, and the deplorable sleeping conditions in the army, my complexion suffers, my hair has to be crew cut at all times and the freedom of having a little stylish goatee just to look a little scruffy for the ladies is taken away too. Somehow, we wonder why people want to run from Singapore the moment they hear the word "Conscription." Oh... look! Darn, another half a dozen scholars just fled the country.

Cheerio!