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Thursday, January 26, 2006
Here's an experiment for anyone who's bored enough to read my drivel (or post on my tagboard for that matter... the fact you even know my blog exists connotates a certain amount of desperation). Take a heated, pointy stick and tickly the back of your throat till it starts to react in violent and often painful ways. That is what I have been enduring for the past day and a half (semi-annually for the last 16 or so years of my life). That is, in essence, tonsilitis for the vaguely curious - and it is something which has plagued me for a decent portion of my life (I blame my double-edged gene pool which has blessed me with a physique of a chiselled Greek hero bust, the intellect of a nuclear scientist et cetera et cetera which has left me with a pathetic excuse for a pair of tonsils). As my wide variety of well-developed muscles ache terribly from a day's worth of school (admittedly I slept half of it away) as well as a session of rugby training in my less-than-superhuman state of health has left me desperately in need of sleep, if I am to wake up at all, least of all on time for the highly anticipated ACS(I) Chinese New Year celebrations (my heart can barely take the excitement). Thus I shall once again, resort to the obviously illegal ploy of posting copyrighted lyrics of yet another song that no one would listen to anyway. Soldier Side by System of a Down (read, hum, and enjoy) "Dead men lying on the bottom of the grave. Wondering when Savior comes Is he gonna be saved Maybe You're a sinner into your alterning life Maybe you're a joker, maybe you deserve to die They were crying when their sons left God is wearing black He's gone so far to find no hope He's never coming back They were crying when their sons left All young men must go He's come so far to find the truth He's never going home Young men standing on the top of their own graves Wondering when Jesus comes Are they gonna be saved Cruelty to the winner, Bishop tells the King his lies Maybe you're a mourner, maybe you deserve to die They were crying when their sons left God is wearing black He's gone so far to find no hope He's never coming back They were crying when their sons left All young men must go He's come so far to find no truth He's never going home Welcome to the Solider Side Where there's no one here but me People all grow up to die There is no one here but me Welcome to the Solider Side Where there is no one here but me. People on the Soldier's Side There's no one here but me." TO THE BATMOBILE Friday, January 20, 2006
Soft beds! Showers (and not pails)! Clean clothes! Edible food! Not a whiff of a swamp! And not a blasted fly, mosquito, frog nor ant within visibility's range! Such were the words I cried out in joyous harmony, and I openly wept on my knees in front of many a stunned security officer after passing through immigration at Tuas. Sobering up proved easier than expected, after I brushed off several rifles aimed at what security personnel percieved to be a dangerously crazy threat, as I began to realise that the camp was passably fun. I should not be unused to this process anymore, more commonly known as "eating my words". Once again I must retract my words, as I humbly concede that the camp was decent, and wait for it... even enjoyable (oh golly) at some point or another. This was due to a certain individuals that I'm quite certain won't ever stumble across this, and with minimal damage to my ego, I am free to proclaim aloud that it was the instructors of the camp (always is in fact - especially this camp more than most) that justified the trouble of dragging myself down to Kluang. From the hoop-sinking, basketballing foursome of female instructors (the sight of a particularly and quite-obviously oversized instructor nail a 3-pointer with eagle eye accuracy was majestic to behold, and she proceeded to pummel the living daylights out of the school basketball players and my perception of physics alike. Respect.) as well as their male, and equally entertaining counterparts, who enlightened us with secrets, ghost stories and other similarly juicy pieces of gossip. Having unburdened my soul with my confessions which would hopefully spare my obviously hell-bound soul, I shall now proceed to shower for what would probably be the 4th time since I arrived in Singapore, in yet another moment of water-wasting splendour to rejoice in a state of hygiene previously unattainable for the last 5 days. Many thanks to the friends (inclusive of instructors) who made the fly-infested, ant feeding ground of Kluang that little bit more tolerable. TO THE BATMOBILE Sunday, January 15, 2006
No one goes to Malaysia on their own free will. It's common knowledge. There is only one person I know who goes to Malaysia on a semi-regular basis (annually, as a matter of fact - Any more regular and he can't be considered human anymore), and it is only because he's visiting relatives during CNY for money... There is a saying, that if you take any post-Armaegeddon/invasion scene from a Hollywood film, and chuck in a desert's worth of dust into the surroundings, you get Malaysia. (Actually there isn't, but now I've said it - there ought to be). It doesn't help that each time I've ventured forth into the dusty depths of Hell that is supposedly "Truly Asia" for any social activity, it's a 9 hour drive of sheer boredom (affectionally known as "The Gauntlet") to Ipoh, where by the time we've reached the blasted place, we've forgot the purpose of the trip anyway. Not that there's much to do in Ipoh anyway... Educational tours to Malaysia are a different thing altogether. Educational tours always are. Due to my superhuman physique, and my luscious lengthy legs, long distance bus rides are hardly ever enjoyable, even without the added torture of having someones elbow in my gut, or my inadverted selflessness in taking the only seat without a working air-conditioner. Nobody goes to Malaysia on their own free will... The same holds for tomorrow morning, approximately 0800, where my corpse, bloodied from heavy struggle, and still screaming would be dragged through customs across the border where I'm supposed to endure a 5 day camp (from the 14th to 20th) at Kluang (a less intimidating name where it ought to be called "Swampland")... Pray for me. Or you could always attempt to relieve my boredom and message me, provided my phone hasn't run out of battery yet. Unless there happens to be a socket in the middle of an open field. If not, I shall return within the end of the week, provided I don't get killed by a mudslide/flood/haze/accident/mad malay men. TO THE BATMOBILE (Note: I bear nothing against the inhabitants/natives/people of Malaysia... Just the country itself) Monday, January 09, 2006
Despite bursting full of creativity and wit today (peak of which was when my delightfully irritating teacher crackled out "I'm giving out the circulars now!", the words "Sir, but they're rectangular!" burst forth unbidden from my mouth and stunned everyone into a stupor), I have decided to pay homage to those to have made an impact in my life, after one of them brought up the memory of residing on top of the Ngee Ann City rooftop once again, and we shared in our similarly face-crackingly-so-stressed-out period of being selected for the rugby squad. Speaking of which, I'm not fishing for any compliments when I'm say, I have not feared so much for my selections as before as now, and it is becoming a increasingly scary reality that I shall not be chosen. Everything I have worked for within the last 3 years has never been rendered so meaningless, as every step I take now, clad in my jersey, seems to be without the support of my coaches and teamates, and to a certain extent, even my friends (this I admit, I crave above all)... Unfortunately enough, this post is less about me and more about everyone else (many of you breathe a sigh of relief as your eyes, bleeding from reading my bullshit, are allowed a brief respite...)! This song, is dedicated in (some vague) order of importance - 1) A great friend, whom soon, for the first time in 7 years that I've been (my fingers tremble with suppressed emotion/ego) blessed with his company, I shall not be in the same school as him. 1.5) My brothers in arms from the team, who I have had many memorable incidents (and accidents) with. 1.5 again) My sister. Even with my famed humility, I could only struggle out those two words before I had to insert the punctuation. 2) My teamates, whom I've let down time and time again. If the selections tomorrow do not go my way, it shall be the last time I'll let you all down... 3) My classmates (and other GEP people), another set of people I've let down if I fail in rugby. 4) Various members of the opposite sex - always ready to give me a swift kick in the nuts provided whenever they see fit (one would think by now I would get used to it). 5) Everyone else who has influenced my life for the better (teachers inclusive - the one and only time I'd mention this other than Teacher's Day...) One Blood by Terence Jay "In a faraway fires, Where the hills forever burn. At the feet of our heroes, We try hard to learn. But the lesson is lost there, In the smoke and the mud. That we are, one flesh, one breath, one life, One blood. I stood by the river, That ran red with shame. I stood in the killing fields, Where Death had no name. I stood with my brothers, And awaited flood. And We were one flesh, one breath, one life, One blood. Then I fell to the ground, Tasted ashes on my tongue. Thinking that only the dead, are forever young. There was peace in the twilight, and for a moment, a morgue. There was a road without danger, a world without war. Then I would take all your suffering, it won't do any good. Cause we are one flesh, one breath, one life, One blood." Not a classic, a mite cliche, but the best I could do (in what must be my shortest blog post ever). Wrote down the lyrics myself as the even the expansive World Wide Web had diddly-squat about this song. I fear for tomorrow (or is it cold resignation?) TO THE BATMOBILE Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Someone once told me I have the innate ability to make anything I do sound interesting* (whereas I could never make myself sound any more appealing)... I shall attempt to entertain once more with accounts of my *drumroll* second day of school, and my first few encounters with my new (and utterly dastardly) form teacher. Curse you! I don't take physics, having mastered it at the age of 6 (followed by 4 forms of martial arts - Taekwando, Karate, Muay Thai and my personal favourite, Kama Sutra, all forms of classical art and 8 different languages), and as I was about to make my way out of the class for about the 20th time in the last half hour, he proclaimed in a deep resonating (heavily Indian accented) voice that - 1) I couldn't leave the class, 2) I couldn't rest during free periods, and 3) My sideburns were too long. In the silence that followed, I hastily gathered up the remnants of my lower jaw and cleared up my nosebleed. Butlerman has never felt so much more imprisoned than during his 2006 physics lesson. Superheroes should never be bound! And never once should their sideburns be gotten rid of! Even my Elvis impressions were lost on him and he slowly drew a finger across his lack of facial hair. Humourless bastard. It's been a weird day, I grant it that much... Even as I blog (at my customary snail pace) I'm talking to one of the least likely people I'd ever talk to (for the simple fact that person scares the balls out of me) - however my ego shall only leak known the fact that I find it suitably interesting and pleasant. You only heard that once. *He actually said "Butler(man), you're full of bullshit." Hell it's the same thing anyway. TO THE BATMOBILE Tuesday, January 03, 2006
God forgive me! I've committed yet another cardinal sin in copying a friends copied (its a vicious cycle) blog topic in order to mantain some semblance of updating in here... A thousand apologies, though be assured that I don't mean any of them. (So sue me... You'll see me in court, but I'll find you in a dark alleyway beforehand. Be very afraid.) So begins the first step towards eternal condemnation. 2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? 3. Did anyone close to you give birth? 4. Did anyone close to you die? 5. What countries did you visit? 6. What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005? 7. What dates from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? 9. What was your biggest failure? 10. Did you suffer illness or injury? 11. What was the best thing you bought? 12. Whose behaviour merited celebration? 13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? 14. Where did most of your money go? 15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? 16. What song will always remind you of 2005? 17. Compared to this time last year, are you: 18. What do you wish you’d done more of? 19. What do you wish you’d done less of? 20. How will you be spending Christmas? 22. Did you fall in love in 2005? 23. How many one-night stands? 24. What was your favourite TV programme? 25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? 26. What was the best book you read? 27. What was your greatest musical discovery? 28. What did you want and get? 29. What did you want and not get? 30. What was your favorite film of this year? 31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? 33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005? 34. What kept you sane? 35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? 36. What political issue stirred you the most? 37. Who did you miss? 38. Who was the best new person you met? 39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005. 40. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. Comprehend this at your own discretion. My fingers ache. TO THE BATMOBILE Sunday, January 01, 2006
Spending my first few conscious moments of the year 2006, in my PE tanktop, carrying a massive bag, a set of speaker and a Winnie the Pooh pillow, doing my very best to expand my hips via intense facial contractions (it was worth a shot) to prevent my oversized boardshorts from falling to my ankles, trudging by Orchard Towers (and through many puddles) may not exactly be the best way to kick off the new year. What was a good way to kickstart year 2006 fortunately happened eight hours before, and while memories of the experience comes back in dribs and drabs, I seem to remember excessive amounts of alcohol, attempting to dance to 70's hits, brilliant company (I'm taking extreme caution in describing them.. I'm treading on dangerous ground), and over the top whistle and horn blowing (of the chaste kind). In all honesty, the looming task of combating the seemlingly indomitable year of 2006 is a frightening one even for one such as me (this coming barely 24 hours after I got complimented that my ego has deflated! Whoops) and I am thus far, very ill-prepared to do so. As it is I have about half a million chinese songs to practice for holiday homework - of which I've lost the lyrics. My immediate future looks rather bleak if you'd ask me (not that anyone actually does - but just so you know)... Whining and my worthless dribble aside, I'd suppose it wouldn't hurt much to wish all those who bother to read this a happy new year... A year older (well I forgot about the anniversary), slightly more mature and that little bit less egotistical TO THE BATMOBILE |
The Writer
highly confidential Martin Butler, or affectionally known to others as "Butler", "Butlerman", or just "Butt". -Most eligible bachelor of 2004-every year henceforth - step aside Mr.Clooney -Doesn't particularly enjoy much anymore having been desensitized as part of a cruel torturous regime a.k.a IB... -Dislikes everything he doesn't like... Nov 8th - Remember the date! MSN - butlerwantsu@hotmail.com (Add with caution) Archives
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a tense atmosphere of hot air, greasy stains and the endless grumbles of the engine - and that's only me 
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