Cold water in the extremely early morning. The tap water brought back now-fond memories of my scouting days. I look at my Jabba the Hutt bulk today, and I find it inconceivable that once upon a time - ONCE UPON A TIME! - I was this lean mean hole-digging machine. The folks at St. Michael's Ipoh couldn't break my fence. Yes sir, it was a labour of love, a feat which will probably never be repeated again.
It's been a long day. It's been a long DEMOTIVATING day. Yet somehow, right now, the only thing I can think of (apart from the fact that I just sent a bunch of trannie videos to an Iranian colleague) is how cold the tap water is. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine myself back at Camp Coronation, with the smell of sulphur in the air.
I do not think how life can be horrendously unfair. I do not think how working life can take a serious downturn because of just TWO people. I do not think how I should be uberly pissed that my efforts usually go uncredited. I do not think how I'm constantly sidelined even though my managers do not find anything SERIOUSLY wrong with me during my one-on-ones with them.
Instead, I think of icy cold tap water. I think of my scouting days. I think of Camp Coronation. I think of the smell of sulphur in the air. I think of camaraderie. I think of being good at what I do, and being recognized for it by a bunch of peers who do not know the meaning of recognition. For one cold icy glorious moment, I'm back in the past, patrolling the hallways of my memory armed with only a parang and a face recently cleansed by icy cold tap water with a faint taste of rust.
I think of all that, and somehow, life seems liveable.