Sunday, August 30, 2009

Calendar Making

The way I organise my personal diary here explained:

The basic unit of all time is the day
All days are grouped into weeks, the basic component of longer defined periods

The calendar is 18 to 20 months long
The stretch is divided evenly into 18 to 20 fiscal months
The 12 fiscal months in each year are each denoted with a chinese character:
The 12 calendar months in each year are each denoted by a letter:
G, Ƕ(also Hw or Q), M, É, T, C, H, L, W, P, S, N
The fiscal month may start on the 11th of its corresponding calendar month and end on the 10th of the following month, depending on the individual.
Expenses are calulated based on fiscal months.

In English, the date is written as: (day)(calendar month glyph)
e.g. today is 30 August, or 30L

In Chinese, the date is written as: (decade)(fiscal month)(day)(day of the week)
Each fiscal month is divided into 3 decades:
1st decade: 11th to 20th of the month
2nd decade: 21st to end of month
3rd decade: 1st to 10th of the (following) month
each phase is denoted by a character (varies according to fiscal month)
day: according to sequence of day in the decade
day of week: follows Japanese system
e.g. 30 August, 盛露十日

The NS stint is organised into seasons, in which specific sets of activities or events come into play.
Seasons are organised as sets of weeks.
A Frame is a more loosely-defined subset of seasons.
A season may be divided into sub-parts (i.e. period A and period B)
Chinese dates can also be expressed alternatively in terms of frame rather than fiscal month.
e.g. 30 August, 蜂雀七日

Each season (or its subdivision) has a separate calendar, drawn in a table such that each week forms a new row.
The weeks are numbered in order: I, II, III...
for sub-parts: AI, AII, AIII; BI, BII...
A frame may also have its own calendar, for which a week 0 may be defined
For everything else, there's still the legend you can follow.

Fast approaching: Recon Season, week AII

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Autumnal Equinox Update

At about the same times when I am in the grass rolling, on the foam mats doing furious bigfoot impressions, or on the streets running my heart out, or skulking around town in full parade order, the rest of my universe flies apart. It must have been the same feeling experienced by Álfgrímur Hansson leaving his childhood house, knowing full well it would be razed to the ground the next day.

The folks of old, where have they gone? At distant corners of space, lurking in the darkness between stars. They too must miss the folks of old, probably not as much as I do. Maybe they don't, but I've given up whining about the past... The present has its own set of friends. The present also features my guitar, which I have picked up and am learning to play (for the 3rd time). When I play I think of my older friends, but I play towards a muting emptiness. It doesn't matter; my fingerpicking is only about 35% proficient. The worse acoustics, the better.

We are heading into the wilderness again. I look forward to that sort of thing as a solace, where the stupid crowds are never present and lonely guys never get lonely alone. When else can one find such splendid distractions in his life? None after October. This is the last one.

Was at church this afternoon. I led the kyrie again, and they said I sang quite well =D

Fingerpickin' time--

The Five-Year Inscription

19 August 2009
Happy belated 5th birthday, blog fella!

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Army Half Marathon

There is one every year, always featuring as its main attraction a 21-kilometer route in city and thereabouts. I ran the AHM (21k non-competitive) today for this year and also for the year before, even though it wasn't blogged about. They gave out medals straight away, as compared to last year when it was passed down many hands and conveniently disappeared.

I shall give some other comparisons between these 2 runs-
route: is more convoluted
small talk: more frequent
stirring shit across units: likewise
speed: slower
environmental pollution: worse
seeing people I know by accident: 4 (compared to 2 last year)

The formation clinched top place for non-competitive, and the host had heaps of fun doing this-
Host: This year's team champion title goes to... the Сοmmandοs!
Us: Wooooooo!
Host: Lololol this year's champion formation is... the Сοmmandοs!
Us: Wooooooo!
Host: Wow how they just cheer whenever we say that-
Host: When I passed out of BMT 20 years ago I was supposed to go to... the Сοmmandοs!
Us: Wooooooooooo!
Host: When you pass by Changi Village be sure to say hi to... the Сοmmandοs!
Us: Wooooooooooooo!

When that was finished everyone went home boarding the train at City Hall. I strolled in the other direction instead, towards Raffles Place station. The place was lazy, almost deathly quiet at 10am, though sprinkled lightly with slackers and tourists. I saw a raven for the first time, close up, at Cavenagh bridge. It's a beautiful creature, large and black all over, even to its beak, and stirred up thoughts about stuff like death and ruin. It wasn't doing anything much apart from frightening the pedestrians, so I shooed it away.

People are complaining about not being able to feel their own legs. I thank God that I still can; and it still feels the way after Zhongshan kicked it in Friday's sparring session.

On trains and being alone
I got home on trains alone on the preceding Monday, Friday and Sunday. In 1 such case I sought to eject my seat from the crowd of old and no longer familiar acquaintances, when hanging around just becomes deadly uncomfortable. In the second case it was by chance, and nothing was wrong. In the third case I merely wanted to chill, to cool off from human contact, and got to do just that.

Whatever the reason, I have fallen out of favour with the crowd again, whether I knew the people or not. The crowd always looked the other way, and I could never camouflague myself into one of them. Never mind, I can always run. The world is never short of closed shopfronts, temporarily closed roads, unholy hours, quiet suburbs, ghost towns and wilderness. These are places perfect for being alone in; where the heat sizzles off. Damn this, socialising is some tough shite. I've said that from my heart. Whoever still reads my blog, I'm sorry, swallow it.

Sunday, August 02, 2009


We had the long-anticipated 3.2km city march yesterday. You might say that 3.2 is nothing compared to last year's 86.3, but still, O my wretched right forearm!

The route started from the floating platform, to the Esplanade, right turn to the also-thus-named bridge, past the Fullerton, right turn to Anderson Bridge, past a few other spiffy buildings, past Victoria Concert Hall (ah the memories), past Saint Andrew's Road, and the long march down Raffles Avenue completed this horrible journey.

When we marched into the city it was as if the whole nation was waiting in silence. The streets had no cars / cars parked with engines shut and people watched from a distance. I enjoyed the cheers and catcalls alike, even though the audience was placed at a wide berth; this arrangement, I believe, stemmed from a fear of some maniacs crashing out through the barricades to snatch the guns from our hands. But I say! At the time it is most welcome of them to do so.

Throat was burning the whole duration of yesterday and still does. I might miss the actual National Day for this. But still, with the Army Half Marathon the following week to that and the start of recon course the week after, what other opportunity do I have to rest? O, such a pleasure it is to awake in sunshine.