Melancholic Partying For Two Nights

I spent Friday and Saturday clubbing at Supperclub and Rebel respectively.

Just last week, I’ve graduated with a diploma in Accountancy and I’ve received an amended enlistment letter that shortened my conscription time. Despite the many reasons to be glad, melancholy and gloom has seeped into the cracks of my soul.

More than ever, I’ve contemplated the definition of happiness and how societal expectations robs me of my free will as an individual. I’m not a bad person, but I’ll be forced to do unthinkable things. It kills me to know that the choices presented to me will end up hurting someone.

I realised that as you grow older, especially as a guy, it becomes difficult to cry. This doesn’t refer only to the facade of machismo that society expects us to maintain. The emotions feel so familiarly numb that you hesitate to react.

Drunk At Supperclub

Last Friday, the sorrow finally manifested in uncontrollable sobbing when I became high at Supperclub. I continued to drink, hoping to drown the sorrows and attune my body to the beats of the nightclub music. Before long, I felt the mood to dance but was drunk for the first time.

Based on the night’s events, my mind was conscious of what happened and I was able to assert control over myself. I was able to recall everything that happened (except when my eyes were shut). However, in my drunk state, my mobility was affected. I remember being walked to the toiled when I suddenly collapsed. Feeling the firm grip of Eugene and Zhen Xing, I knew I was in good hands and spent my time observing my drunken stupor till I was overcome by the urge to vomit.

As I hadn’t eaten the entire day, except for 2 buns at BreadTalk, I wasn’t able to vomit. I had to dig my fingers into my throat to induce vomit while kneeling in front of the silver toilet bowl. When I was helped back to our table, I layed down sideways. Occasionally I tried to sit up so that I would recover, but I was unable to due to the strong urge to vomit.

When I finally managed to sit vertically, I grabbed the garbage bag that someone had gotten for me (I could hear them talking earlier even though my eyes were closed). I remember puking into the garbage bag, with Brenda beside me patting my back. I then hoped that someone would get me a glass of water. After what felt to me like milliseconds, I looked up and there Brenda was with water. That was when I realised that my sense of timing and thoughts were very sluggish.

When I was drunk, it felt so easy to drift off into my own world and ignore my surroundings. Everything felt spontaneous because I lost the ability to hesitate. Yes, I must have taken some time to process information. But once I knew what was being said, my response was given without further thought. I wouldn’t say it was bliss, but having a diminished mental capacity to hold only a few thoughts at a time does help in reducing the pain of melancholy.

By the time I recovered, it was 3.27am. My friends took me to the dance floor and it was over within 15 minutes. I hadn’t danced the entire night.

Dancing At Rebel With A Ripped Plastic Bag

Determined to dance at the nightclub, I decided to go clubbing again on Saturday after my graduation dinner. It was unfortunate, but I had no desire to discuss University, work, or the future with my graduation mates at a pub; I hadn’t applied to a university, I wasn’t working and my future is painful.

Since none of my graduation mates were in the mood to club, I met up with Jhansi, Bala and his NS friends. We sat at the bridge near Liang Court at Clarke Quay and had some strong Whiskey. I declined the second bottle when I felt extremely high. Both Jhansi and I headed to the toilet and my body’s coordination was wobbly.

Managing to jump the queue at Rebel because of Bala’s friend’s connections, I entered the club without much fuss. Yet, I was dancing with a plastic bag on my arm (with Norton Antivirus won during the graduation dinner lucky draw). The rest of them was too high to wait for me to lock the plastic bag up.

By the time I left Rebel at 4am, my plastic bag was ripped and I was still high. I felt lonely at then. Bala and Jhansi had already left the club an hour ago because Bala was drunk. And I had been hanging around Bala’s friends.

I stumbled to the vending machine and looked for my wallet, realising that the pouch containing my IC and EZ-link card was missing from my pocket. I panicked and looked through the ripped plastic bag and felt damn lucky that I found the pouch. The hole in the plastic bag was big enough for the pouch to drop out during my 3 hours at Rebel.

The one-hour wait for the Night Rider (bus) was not that eventful, save for the arguing couple that was hitting each other. I had to summon my efforts to walk stably upon reaching home as my dad had just returned from cab driving.

That’s all…

Logen L.


Enlisting Into The Ninja Military

I believe my internship experience has opened my eyes to the shit that people do (office politics and utterly stupid behaviour). Will NS (national service) be similar and worse? Let me cross my fingers and teach myself to master my temper.

I’ve had an apprehensive week, which was triggered by the news of my friends’ military enlistment letters. I hadn’t received mine and prefer to enjoy a longer break. However, during the dawn of Sunday when I was preparing for bed, my dad handed me the much dreaded letter.

Upon thinking back, what happened next was surprising; I felt a sudden surge of anxiety but almost immediately I became completely calm and managed to emotionally-detached myself from the situation. I slowly tore the perforated sections of the envelope and pulled open the pages calmly.

And there it was. I would be enlisting into the military on 4th June 2010.

Within an hour, I accepted that I would lose my freedom for the next 2 years. What surprised me even more was that I actually looked forward to enlisting for the Combat training and Obstacle course. I regarded the two years as something akin to Ninja training in ancient Japan.

Anyway, I could postpone and reduce my conscription by 8 weeks if I attain Silver for the NAPFA test. The results must be submitted to them 2 weeks before the enlistment for the reduction to be valid. So, I’m going to continue training and ace the test. I want to be prepared for regimentation.

Logen L.


The Paradox of God and the Devil

“Religion is a lie

God is a fairy tale character

The devil is mere representation of… human fear”

My melancholy subconsciously prodded me into making the above sketch. It clearly reflects my thoughts on religion, god and the devil, while my lecturer was conducting the audit tutorial class.

I may upload more sketches I’ve made in time to come. I have a habit of doodling on my notes (especially during lectures). I must say though, I’ve completed my course and am awaiting the graduation ceremony. No more opportunity to doodle.

Logen L.


Straightening Out My Disquiet

I wish I could express my thoughts as eloquently as before. But as at now, my mind is written in a language that I know not how to transcribe to English.

I’m frustrated at my lack of direction in life; something I prided upon in the past. Now its all groggy as though I’m recovering from amnesia. My confidence and assertiveness have dwindled and I find it difficult to assert my fair rights and stand. To worsen my predicament, every time I hear that (if you know it, then you know; otherwise, mind your own business), I feel as though someone has broken my ribs apart to slice my heart over and over. Circumstance makes it difficult for me to love, let alone feel compassion, for another person.

This is what happens when you live life without religion. You cannot rely on the ‘infallible’ fairytale of humans to fix your life. You cannot attach yourself to an ‘absolute’ truth. Ironically, there is no such thing as absolute truth nor reality. However, when you hit rock bottom (or are in denial that you are melancholic), it becomes tough to contemplate your situation.

Even then, I’m contented to make up the rules and principles of my own life. For one, I prefer to think for myself and not be lectured about morality.

It is therefore prudent that I begin by taking charge of my life and start respecting myself as an individual. I cannot constantly neglect my needs, because by doing so, I’m subconsciously allowing people to step all over me.

And I must stop perceiving the world in terms of ‘statistics’. For instance, statistics like: “Most people die by the age of 70” , are not only inaccurate but place limits on what I can achieve as an individual. I cannot let these statistics dictate whether I’ll achieve my goal. Instead, I must push on despite the shit and uncertainty to create my path. I already know the typical life of the people in my land is not my path.

P.S. Don’t be a smart aleck to assume that I’m worried about dying at the age of 70. The statistic (which is totally made up) is just a convenient example to shield my real concerns. You think you know me, but what you know of me is what I allow you to know. Perhaps its time I trusted a few other close friends to be not shameless gossips.

Logen L.


Contemplating On An Jing

I’m sure you know how certain songs can bring back nostalgic memories of the past. Unexpectedly I came across the song, An Jing on Zhi Wei’s blog. This song represented an era of time when I was young and stupid, between the secondary school years 2004 and 2005. I was in a class of crazy idiots who loved mandarin music, so naturally I was exposed to the mainstream mandarin music of that time.

While listening to the song after half a decade has passed, I’ve contemplated my journey in life and realise how much older and wiser I’ve become. I’ll soon graduate from polytechnic and reach the crossroads to decide the path I should pursue.

And by now I know, once you choose your path and leave behind the crossroads, you can never turn back. The bonds with the people you once cared for will be forgotten, because they become the relics of your past. When I have the time to reminisce, honestly, I miss my secondary school friends. However, even if we meet up, the tides of time have washed away our past and it becomes a meeting of strangers.

Somehow, I wish I could turn back time and become 15 again. I was depressed and feared abandonment back then. I had a crush on a certain someone and I hated myself for it. Now I wish I had at then possessed the guts to live the life I wanted and trust myself more. That’s the thing… until we’re free, we will never know how significantly we limit ourselves by our beliefs and thoughts.

Yet I cannot regret the choices I have made up until now. If I hadn’t made mistakes nor felt the turmoil of melancholy, I wouldn’t  have the insight I have now. The Logen today would not have existed.

I’ve made up my mind to enjoy my youth while I still possess it. I don’t want to sit down as an old man in the future, regretting that I hadn’t lived life sensuously and wildly; appreciating the cerulean skies, tasting the scent of the night breeze, feeling the heat from the sun, dancing spontaneously to life’s rhythms. To appeal to the senses while they are at their peak and when I’m still alive and healthy.

Logen L.


Clarity Is The Acceptance Of Fear

When you possess clarity in your thoughts and the direction in life, you assume that the clarity will last. However, this act of attaching yourself to clear thought, is the beginning of losing it. In order to see things as they are, we must let go of what we fear.

If we are able to calm our minds of fear, we’ll be shocked at how fear can aggravate an innocent situation. We are conditioned to face the good with pleasure and attachment; and the bad with fear and aversion. We must drop the illusion of good and bad as they are ultimately two sides of the same coin. Both good and bad should be faced with a calm objective mind. Fear taints clear thought. It instigates paranoia that totally blinds us from clarity. Blindness impairs us from taking action.

[ Aikido demonstration and free attacks ]

Sometimes, during Aikido training I’m required to defend against attacks, at normal speed, without knowing how the attacker will attack. Anticipating an attack results in lack of clarity, because most of the time, you won’t be able to anticipate an attack correctly. I have to empty my mind of anticipation and fear. This way I can truly see an attack for what it is; and not what I imagine. And my body has been able to respond to an attack without hesitation by blending with the attackers attack.

I realise the key to being calm and retain clarity is to accept that some of my fears may come true. In the case of an attack, it is the fear of being hit. By accepting those fears I can take action to minimise the impact. It beats attaching to my fears and allowing them to claim my sanity. As a martial artist, the moment you lose clarity and calm, you are dead. I suppose the same can be said of life.

Logen L.


The Voice of Equality In The Face of Prejudice

Disclaimer: The text here is merely my opinion. It may or may not represent the true nature of things. This disclaimer serves to protect me from repercussions if you wish to rely on my views. On no account should I be held responsible.

The module WISP (World Issues, Singapore Perspective), is presently covering discrimination and prejudices in a Singapore perspective. I’ve kept silent on my views for the past 1 and a half years, because I have lost hope on this country. My voice and the voice of many others do not matter to the establishment. Why then should I waste time proving that youths are not apathetic on current issues…

The government and society want to hear what they want to hear. The voice of dissent is quelled like a disease. We speak of equality in this country. But what of foreign workers? What of not appointing a certain race in certain parts of the military? What of gays, lesbians and the trangendered? Are they not people too?

I was tired of being called a ‘Bangla’ just because I demanded respect for the Bangladeshi workers who worked here. I was tired of the taunting in school when I used to be effeminate. So is it wrong of me to demand respect for them because I had a small taste of how homosexuals are treated.

Politics is sordid business. Speaking up for the discriminated is sordid business. Because society loves to throw their sordid stereotypes on apparently normal people on the basis that they are different.

“No, my religion says…”.

“They are so smelly…”

“It is just disgusting…”

“They are lazy and stupid…”

The one thing that has inspired me to carry on with my voice today are the words from Dr Soin, who quoted Magaret Mead:

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.

Apparently I have to be careful with airing views of this nature, lest I be thrown in jail for inciting disharmony…

Logen L.