profile


if holden caulfield is real and is living, if he chanced upon me, he'd beat the shit out of me and kill me with his bare fists. i am a fake. i love everything and anything anglo, thinks and act like i'm anglo when i'm actually not. i worship another race because i think my own race is incompetent and impotent when i might actually be more incompetent and impotent than they are. which makes me, as holden caulfield would have put it, a phony. a first-class, gold-plated, honey-brazen phony.

:):):)

tag

miscellaneous

www.AmmanMessage.com - The Official Website of the 

Amman Message






previous posts


acknowledgments

PHOTOBUCKET
C-BOX
MATT
BLOGSKIN BY EILEEN


Sunday, December 28, 2008
"Dear whoever has been addressed as in the "To:" list,

They say that it does one a world of good to reflect, once in a while. To consolidate everything we have seen, heard, smelt, tasted. To remember everything that we have felt.

We are, after all, the sum of all our experiences. How else to know who we are if not through learning who we were? And as the pages turn to the final chapter in your book (I no longer have a place there, unfortunately), I find myself somewhat overwhelmed. Many things have happened, and I have changed so much.

So just this once, pay me some heed. This, is my last aria. The last song I sing as my life in BOC, as it were, draws to a close. This, my friends, is the requiem for me.

Everyone has their own song. They move on with life to their own rhythm and beat, listen to their own melodies, play their own music. My song, and I am glad to have had it this way, has itself rooted in you. All of you.

There's a bit in my song about how we went through the BTMs, happy hour and ladder drills all. The song slows a little after every exercise, when we need a few beats to recharge. And it becomes upbeat again every night, when we come alive again, talking amongst ourselves while the dorm is festooned with drying laundry, sloppy guitar play, and instant noodles.

A slow waltz was played when Greg left us, but it became an uptempo Viennese rendition when he came back to see us, and tell us just how well he's been doing. Through this and the many other things that have happened, the song kept playing. It kept me going. I hope your songs helped you through as well.

What I'm trying to say is, my curtain's closing on my stage, and I am going off to leave for my next performance. But the one leaving and the one who came all those 27 weeks ago, they are worlds apart. I for one, prefer to believe that the one leaving is better for it.

My song, dear friends, just like me, have been taken out of the 41st BOC.

But the 41st BOC will always remain a part of my song, and of me, wherever its beat brings me.

Warm Regards (and a foreboding premonition of embarrassment cum next week onwards)

Ikhsan
Former Officer-in-Training
Always the dramatic

P.S.: I will deny ever typing this nonsense. So don't bother bringing it up. Unless you to find out if your face is a size 11.5... I know my top boots are.

P.P.S.: My peer appraisal is attached too."

i don't know if i should post this up on public but it's things like this that is forever etched in your life memories and i just have to get this up for keepsakes.

OCT Ikhsan bin Suri, to me, is probably one of the most amazingly intelligent, confident and eccentric person i've met. the kind of memorable character that you know would be soaring with success in the future. it's sad that he's leaving the course considering we have just one month to go.

ikhsan, always the dramatic. always the eccentric. always the confident.

always the intelligent.


0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home