This is hugely ironic considering what the post before this was… but thank You, Heavenly Father, for the amazing four days (and nights!) that have just passed, and for whatever other plans you have for me.

Truly, it was only when I was ready to give of myself to You totally, that You knew I was ready to have my prayers answered.

…back to the very same place where the Catholic War Machine was born as a distraughtly coloured Blogger-based weblog slightly over six years ago.

But things are different, naturally. The office has moved to another block. The computer room where I first registered http://korgath.blogspot.com is gone. Many of my former bosses have since retired, and well, just about everyone I know has moved on to different locations. There still are several familiar faces, of course… but well, it still painfully different.

I just had to cross the room to pick up a call because all the old “call transfer” skills don’t work any more, even if I remembered them. Yet another reminder of how the world has moved on while I was away.

My “new” old PC has died - again, so I suppose blogposts are going to remain rare as always. Maybe that’s just symptomatic of me, living by Newton’s law of motion - an object at rest tends to stay at rest. Having once rejected the idea of change, I now find myself abhorring it.

One thing I am glad for though - faith. It’s the knowledge that no matter how much one’s situation changes, regardless of how fast the world around you is spinning out of control, it is my faith - the faith of the Catholic Church that remains constant and unwavering. For example, no matter how much technology improves, our dignity and rights as a human being will always be upheld and defended by the Church.

And that’s definitely something to take comfort in.

I have two draft posts that are pretty outdated now lying about. Maybe one day I should just backdate them and post them. One’s about The Leap Years, which had my silver screen extra debut. The other’s about the Pope’s recent visit to the US of A.

Where has my blogging life gone? I dunno.

But maybe now that I’ve got my own PC… I can start blogging again. It’s been too long. Heh.

A friend just called my blog ‘emo’ today. Hahahahahahahah.

She’s absolutely right, of course. Hahahahahahahahahaha.

It’s good to have friends like that.

I imagine this post is going to be extremely long. It’s probably going to be missing a lot of context, but the truth is, I’m writing this post for myself, to remind myself of my whole thought process this day… and the decision that I ultimately came to at the end of it.

Firstly, suicide is a funny thing. It suggests a total loss of hope, an absolute state of despair, an inability to feel or experience love. It’s funny because for me, there are only two people who can drive me to thoughts of suicide and I call them Mum and Pa. It’s funny because the less I want to love them, the more I want to distance myself from them and the stronger my desire to just abandon them entirely… the more I feel like I am dying to myself, the more I feel the desire to die physically, mentally and spiritually.

Love is weird that way, I suppose.

But there it is. Mum and Pa need to see the fruits of their love for me through my life, through being a better person. Fair enough. Unfortunately, a huge chunk of that involves me having to be a better student. Irony of ironies. I’ve never been a better student. Never. Ever. All my life, my distinctions, my merits, my passes and my abject failures, have all been cold, hard, revelations of who I was at that particular point in time. That is, I’ve never put in any more effort than I saw the need to achieve whatever I wanted to achieve. If said effort produced a distinction, I could either be pleasantly surprised, or I could feel that it was justified based on how much I wanted the distinction. If said effort (or lack of it) resulted in failure, I would usually be hardly surprised and, more often than not, have already psyched myself for such a consequence.

I know, I’m such a lazy, hopeless bum.

A lot of the tension with regards to my studies I attribute to my decision to do Engineering. The irony of course, is that I made that decision with a whole lot of time to spare and with not much thought. I’ve blamed a lot of people, primarily my parents, and a lot of factors, primarily the educational system, for that ultimate decision, but I guess I have always known (though not always wanted to admit) that it was, at the end of the day, a decision that I took and have to be responsible for.

Why Engineering then? When I was in primary school, I knew I wanted a job that allowed me to get my hands dirty (a literal thought back then) as well as allow me to work in the comforts of an air-conditioned office. When I asked my mother about the availability of such a profession, her first answer was, “engineer”. And so from that day on, without ANY further thought, ANY further research, ANY practical action at all… I strove to be an engineer.

What a fool I was (and still am).

The sad irony was that a lot of things contibuted to my convictions to be an engineer. Firstly, my discovery of science-fiction that ranged from the Robotech series (Macross in particular) in primary school, to the life-changing re-introduction to Star Trek in secondary school. I knew I wanted to be a part of this futuristic dream. I knew engineers from all fields were the leaders in this fantasy world. I was convinced it was the right thing. My love for comics led me to Iron Man, who fast became one of my favourite characters in my late teens… and I believed with all my heart that engineering was the dream I wanted to live.

Academic-wise, I also found a love for Mathematics that challenged me like nothing had before. Despite being an avid reader and excelling in the English language (though not Mandarin) in primary school, a golden opportunity to be taught by Mr Terry Tan in primary six led to me discovering that Math was not the dreary, difficult subject I thought it was. He helped me, and all those who shared remedial classes with me all those years ago, to develop a new appreciation for Math - one that led to me receiving my A* at the PSLE.

Riding on this new-found love through secondary school, I discovered that Elementary Math and Advanced Math were a whole lot easier than English Language and Literature. And so it was that I thought I took one step closer to my engineering dream when I dropped Literature after Sec 3 and received A1s for both E-Math and A-Math at the O-Levels. I was convinced. The arts were not my thing, I was a man of science through and through.

What could go wrong?

Everything.

I personally don’t know how it happened, but on hindsight, Junior College became one of the best times and worst times of my life. Thinking that I was all ready to prepare for higher studies in Engineering, I opted to do a double-Math course in JC. I think that was the beginning of the end. Further Mathematics was beyond me, beyond the miniscule effort that I had needed thus far. I received my first major failure at the end of that year for F-Math and ironically, an A for Mathematics Syllabus ‘C’. Ironic? Yeah, I thought so too at that time.

I guess I should’ve known better, but I faced my failure poorly. Instead of taking stock of my situation and seriously rethinking my priorities in life, I decided that my failure was SOLELY because I had been lazy in preparing for my promotional examinations after one year in Junior College. No doubt, my procrastination was primarily responsible, but on hindsight, I should have recognised a lack of interest when I saw it.

Instead, I decided to buckle down and attempt to do better the following year, but history obviously dictated otherwise. Within the first two months of my second year in JC, I had all but given up. By the following year when I had received my results, I saw two letters that would make multiple reappearances in future - “C” and “D”.

I had one last chance to kill a foolish, childish dream - but I didn’t. In a ironic repeat of the previous year, I believed that I was capable of becoming an engineer if I had only cared more about my studies. I just didn’t want to admit that I had no longer any passion for further studies in that field any longer.

And so I applied to NTU, putting Engineering as my first choice. First choice. I also applied to NIE at the same time, but later on rejected their offer of a diploma course, thinking that it was beneath me. How arrogant I still remained despite all the humiliation.

Two years in National Service gave me two golden opportunities to change my mind, but irony once again played a hand - over those two years I discovered I had no knack for journalism and that I did enjoy the field of military logistics. And so I believed that I had made the right decision in applying for Engineering.

That was five years ago. Half a decade spent ignoring reality, and the other half spent suffering for it.

But as I thought about those years past, I realised something else very important. That I had not wasted that decade entirely. That my whole faith journey, my experiences as a confirmed Catholic youth, were very much a part of those ten years as well. Indeed, I had grown so much as a Catholic and as a person that I find myself in the wonderful position of being able to do for others what has been done for me. Both in the parish and in Junior College and NS and in NTU, I have lived out my Christian faith with a passion that I know could not have come from me alone. I have experienced emotional highs and lows, spiritual highs and lows (often in sync, though some have been out of sync) and I know through it all that God’s mighty hand has been holding me.

And so as I spent the past eight hours lying in bed feeling sorry for myself and contemplating foolish thoughts of suicide (this time playing around with ideas of stabbing, cutting arteries and going without food and water for days), I was suddenly hit with the epiphany that I had not wasted my life totally, and that my life was a testament to something much greater than I was. I came to a strong and sudden realisation that I was called… to live. And as a result of the crucifixion we celebrated the day before, that I no longer live, but Christ who lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:20)

Thanks be to God who allows us to experience a deep darkness within ourselves in order that we might find solace in his eternal light.

P.S. If anyone has read this far… thank you.

It’s weird for a guy, I guess one might say, but I do like acting and costumes and all that. I mean, seriously. I initially thought I joined the Drama Club back in Secondary School because the seniors I admired were there… but the truth that I eventually discovered was I thrived on an audience. What I loved more than performing before a crowd, though, was actually how much I truly felt at home on a stage, just being myself. I’ve acted in a handful of plays and musicals since, mostly amateur-ish stuff, but the same fulfilling feeling is the same everytime I get out there and do my thing.

Except, I know I can’t act well. I cringe everytime I see a recording of myself. I don’t even like being photographed.

And yet, when it comes to this new-found adventure, I find my fears melting into my passion… creating a totally new experience. An experience called Produce Daisakusen. Click each photo to see it in all its glory! XD

Photos were taken on the 19th of January, by a totally cool bunch of photographers.

Co-starring Peter Lin as Yoshida Hiroshi

Shuuji (played by raydance) and his entourage

Yoshida shares an inside joke with Shuuji

Shuuji shows off his… errr…. new fashion statement to Yoshida

Serious “class” photo

Nonsense “class” photo

For a better understanding of the story we’re cosplaying, head down to SGCafe!

On Friday, I lost my phone. It had slipped out of my pocket as I was taking service 79 to Suntec City. However, thanks to God and his saints (my loving mother included), I managed to get it back within the same day without much fuss. And here is where I get philosophical.

One of the many things my phones (the current one and its predecessors) represent is my sentimentality. It started with keeping a few important messages (because the maximum number of stored messages was low), but with each new model comes even more opportunities to capture more and more of my sentimentality. Photos, videos, sound recordings, files and, of course, over a hundred messages, all stored in one little device. And all that was almost lost to me, because I was careless.

Which, I suppose, made me realise that I need to be ready to let go of things that don’t matter in the long run. Too often, I’ve found myself treasuring the past to an extent that I pay scant interest to the present, and don’t even get me started on the future. For example, I’ve been so comfortable with friends I’ve known for over a decade that I’ve almost lost interest in making new ones. And while those long-term friends are dear to me and I would gladly do anything within my means for them, I do need to find space in my life for new friends to enter and share time and experiences. Right now, I don’t think I do that quite enough.

So for this new year, in order to actually make a resolution I can keep, I promise to spend more time with new friends, to be there for them and to keep them in mind and prayer, as long as it doesn’t detract from my dear friends.

Happy New Year, everyone!