Good mourning [as a random form of greeting, to suit my current mood, this will do just fine].
Excuse my excessive use of that dismal greeting, it's really apt today. Dippy's been sent off to Tekong.
When will I see you again When will we share precious moments Will I have to wait forever Will I have to suffer And cry the whole night through When will I see you again When will our hearts beat togetherThat is the saddest song ever, I think. Horribly sad; I heard it on radio this morning whilst dressing. To think I used to like the lyrics because it was often played at the finale of the Thai cabaret shows I'm such a fan of, and it reminds me of my holidays abroad.
Now, it applies to Dippy. At least I'd be seeing him on the 24th when he books out.
Army isn't that bad, honestly. Or so it appears. Like how Auschwitz looked like a resort. That was my impression when the Penguin Chawan air-conditioned we're-on-a-holiday-to-Bintan ferry drew near Tekong.
Upon arrival Dippy went off to rehearse for his little swearing-in ceremony / administrative matters and we had a little tour of the place. All that enthusiasm in attending Army Open House[s] over the last four years and my love for St Johns' torturous training camps paid off. Army life seems to be pretty much alike St John training camps, just without the change parades and with more sleep most nights. It isn't a wholly new lifestyle unalike something I expected, and I welcome mental preparation. Its 10 males to a bunk, with [apparently] $200 mattresses for good sleep. I wonder what that pail at the foot of their bed's used for though. And the toilets are doorless, which means two's a party, and being a female toilet cleaner there might be fun. They've an hour's free time on most nights, which means I hold on to my mobile phone for dear life from 2130 to 2230 nightly.
Dippy's in Raven, and those in charge of that company are rubbishy people - all that 'talk cock'. At least it doesn't seem overly regimented, so I feel rather assured. The word 'assured' seems motherly, I think. Maternal instincts of mine. Their swearing-in was hilarious - the male baritones in unison, and according to Dippy, some people read exactly from the PowerPoint slides and went 'I, state your name, of...'. He had lunch with us, and Tekong's food is good. Chicken rice - the drumstick is huge, alike that you see the vagabonds on Channel8 period drama serials wolfing on, and there's soup, fruit and syrupy drink. Justin, his cousin, said that only at Tekong will you realise there's many ways of cooking chickens. I suspect there's a chicken farm somewhere on the island, or defaulters are made to spend their weekends in confinement catching wild chickens in the forested areas.
Leaving him there at the jetty wasn't as heart-wrenching as I predicted it to be. He was whisked off for briefings and such, so I didn't have to undergo the agony of waving tearily to him and plastering my face against the oil-streaked glass window of the ferry as we pulled away. The ride back was awful, but at least it's better than losing something and agonizing over its whereabouts. I know my Dippy's rather safe, till I think up some terrorizing incidents that could take place. Like terrorists seeking a military stronghold taking over Tekong, but that's highly unlikely.
The ride home in Darth Fender [that's Dippy's Defender whose all black ensemble resembles Darth Vader] was cold. Literally. Everyone seemed a little moody, as if we lost a huge [pun intended] thing, and the once cramped boot with three Gullivers [Dippy and his two gargantuan cousins] and one Lilliputian was now lacking in a big bulk of warmth.
Everyone seems sadistically interested in my degree of sadness, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't cry. Tears fell the entire night last night, and my tear ducts threatened to burst open at every other moment while at Tekong. I cry over the silliest matters, and many probably know how I cried during The Terminal when a poor and famished Tom Hanks eagerly made himself a 'sandwich' out of crackers and sauces, only to have it knocked out of his hands before a single bite sunk home. Expect the same of me at Tekong. I was blinking back tears when wondering if Dippy would be comfortable in the puny-looking too-small-for-his-frame bed, upon seeing the lack of privacy in toilets, when wondering if the $25 pack of rations they receive a day during field camps would make him feel full because he's such a big eater.
I apologise for making him sound like a girl, he's far manlier. Excuse me, it's just the maternal instincts coming into play. Or actually, I think I'm worse than his mother. Expect my son to be overly spoilt and pampered, although I'd probably send him to little boot camps that I'd love to attend - I think I'm sadomaschinistic - where he'd howl the place down because he's out of his comfort zone.
I wonder how Dippy looks like shorn. He reduced his volumizing head of hair to a close-cropped one [still keeping the tail] a few days back, but that doesn't give me a very good gauge of him after a $2 headshave. Maybe he'd look like a Ninja Turtle - my childhood love. I have this perverse thought of retrieving his tail that he snipped off this morning from the dustbin in his room.
I'm tuning in to Power98FM, the station that's deejaying from Tekong, and a - I'm assuming - crazed Lucas Seng has just had his dedication read out. He snail mailed his dedication to Tekong and claims he can't wait to undergo National Service. I bet he's single. And gay.
Writing this entry's strangely therapeutic. I shall await Dippy's call to me now, and check out the possibility of tsunamis around the Tekong area.
Over and out.
10:06:00 pm
