NonSensical (NS) Type

So here I am in front of the computer at 3am, the house silent, my whole family rejuvenating for the life which begins in a couple of hours’ time, and my wireless internet connection having conked out on me. Of course, how silly of me, as we always say at UrbanWire.com, “Why go wireless in the 1st place? Stay current and connected.” But I assure you, there’s no “Fatal Error” sign flashing on the monitor at the moment and I certainly am not flipping the bird at the “=P” sign that follows.

Eccentrics and digressions aside, my point being that interestingly (or unfortunately), only at this ungodly hour am I normal. Normal meaning, wake up from sleep, get work done, have lunch, and play Ninja Gaiden on the Xbox console without the regular interruptions (Channel 8 soap opera at 7pm and the news at 10pm).

Now, it is at this ungodly hour that I intended to book a date for my medical examination (if not for the frailties of technology). Yes, the dreaded era of National Service is drawing nearer. The era where boys turn to men, develop a phobia for the colour green, and drown in a big tub of water during survival training.

But am I ready (for NS, not to drown), hell no! I couldn’t even get through my National Physical Fitness Award ( NAPFA) test earlier this week. Granted I got gold in all stations of the test (the 8 pull-ups were aided by my weight or rather the lack of it), except the 2.4 km trudge. Still, as some wise man once said, “It’s not the destination but the journey that counts.” Put it this way, the destination is a NAPFA silver award resulting in a 2-month relief period before all green hell breaks loose, and the journey is my aching body screaming to my brain that there’re both not ready to die.

With all that said and my body still screaming, I think it’s best that have my “afternoon” nap soon, get up later at “night” to start silencing it. Otherwise, it’s off on a tour to all the hospitals, private clinics, and medical institutions, to hunt for some long lost record stating that I’ve acquired some rare (non-lethal, but unable to serve the nation because of it) viral infection from the depths of the Amazon. The last thing I’d want is for the government to give me a slip of paper with the letter A chopped on it, It signifies that qualify you for the most rigorous of vocations and training programs. I believe they call it Physical Employment Status (PES) A.

::Saw Li Dong::
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