Mocha Ice Blended Affair

It's been a 9-year affair between me and Coffee Bean's mocha ice-blended. I discovered it thanks to my evil comrade-in-(wasting money)arms GRR. Stuff intervened here and there - bubble tea came between us during JC. Then Coffee Bean's refusal to have any branches or anything at all to do with the UK separated us for four years. But that also meant that it was always the first coffee I grabbed when I return for vac, and by its presence at the airport it was normally the last drink I downed before leaving Changi by plane.

Anyhow I only realised this faithful consistency over a sobering length of time when I stared at "10 years of Coffee Bean in Singapore" on my Coffee Bean card. That reminds me of how things have moved on since those days. I would fork out blood and life for ice-blended at J8 and Tower Records, and now I realise through a Coffee Bean card that I spend a hundred on coffee a quarter.

Owen was talking about the costs of getting married and a new home, probably in the tune of 30-40K taking into account family contributions. While Brandon and I were gasping at the costs of marriage rituals, TS could not stop mumbling about how once 50-cent Yakult bottles seemed expensive to us as little kids. As we move on with our lives, the definitions of 50-cent Yakult bottles we share diverge. So you are getting richer, maybe I'm not. Probably means I'll have to look harder for value-for-money when I eat out, whereas you'll just scoot off to Your Humble House. We'll see how this goes. I'll just stick to the Coffee Bean for now.

160 days is a long time

I never thought I will (want to) get here. It took a bit of time. Honestly, 160 days does not seem like such a long time. And it also does not seem like that many things have happened within this not-very-long period of time, because the events can be adequately summarised in a phrase or two. But then the weight and depth of the experiences that I have encountered make the 160 days seem so much longer, and they defy my will to summarise them or encapsulate them in a mere handful of words. They are expressed in rather more words, words that thankfully have been preserved owing to my WC’s insistent pursuit of journals and reflections.

Then the five-and-a-half days before Lancer complicated things. It gave me too much time away from army. It was too much free time that compounded the sense of emptiness that I had been feeling since I stepped down. It gave me a chance to take stock of PT and ponder about how things have changed since ST. Many things have changed. People have left, new people have appeared, roles and responsibilities have increased and transformed themselves. Then Lancer confirmed many of those uncertainties, worries, freak emotions and tiresome knots that strangle the heart and draw out passions and memories of another time.

Maybe I know better now, after Lancer, that angels do not fall from the sky and fly to me. I should have known better earlier than to hope for the angel. I do not think I can deal with it myself, but then I guess I probably have to learn to deal with it myself. The best way is to let events and responsibilities drag you with a camou-green noose on and on past the tunnel. Scenery becomes blurred, life becomes transient, meaning becomes subsidiary, memory becomes temporary. I try not to look ahead too much now – looking ahead distracts. I must try not to look back too much too. Looking back breaks my heart and will.

I should never have reached out for the angel.