The Wimpy Sex

Our society is highly sexualized. An anthropologist would probably ask how come women are supposed to have long hair, but short hair for men. Why skirts and dresses for women but not for men, make-up for women and not for men, unless you're a faggot.

By the way, I just shaved my hair so I'm "botak" now. Wonder what my bosses and colleagues will say. It's much cooler now, can feel the wind.

One thing I notice about those male/female social distinctions is that the women stuff is more impractical, and this is probably because of the centuries of female subjugation. Long hair supposedly looks good but can get in the way, same for skirts and dresses, skirts seldom have pockets (though they can), and expose the legs, though I guess the main impracticality that it can be looked up isn't really an impracticality, as it's another social thing. But surely make-up is a waste of time, just to look good, doesn't actually do anything useful. Except maybe attract mates and reproduce...

Something about NS in the expanding Philip Yeo saga. "I don't want whining Singapore boys. They are not mature even though they have national service and are over 22 years old when they take up undergraduate studies. They give me so much trouble and waste our precious time."

And then, "Maybe I should give more scholarships to non-Singaporeans who are bright, eager and hungry, and then help them get Singapore passports. The rest, I give to the A-level girls are 19 years old."

In the Sunday Times (Sunday version of Straits Times), this article includes a huge photo of Ms Chng Zhenzhi, an A*Star scholarship holder. It takes up almost a quarter of the page. And why? She's the model of what an archetypal A*Star scholar should be like.

She says: "It's quite obvious that the female scholars are more aggressive, Type-A, go-getting types, while the males are more soft-spoken and tend to be easily bullied by females."

And then, "The local boys are OK until they enter national service. Once they enter NS, they complain a lot. I didn't know that guys could talk about the most minute things. Perhaps they're not used to the physical training or regimentation."

Maybe she was misunderstood or misquoted, which can certainly happen, and certainly does happen, but...

Do you mean to say that you thought only girls "talk about the most minute things"? Yah, boys complain a lot when they enter NS. Maybe NS sucks?! Maybe it's that when you go in for BMT they bend your will and break your spirit, teaching you to cower in fear because you're only a puny recruit and everyone can basically ask you to do anything and punish you for not shouting loudly enough. Where you are drilled to do stupid things like marching with arms flailing in a controlled, dignified manner when walking would make a thousand times more sense.

Respect the rank, reply in a subdued, obedient tone, apologizing for your existence, for having been seen, for not being perfect. Going outfield is kinda fun for the first few hours, you know, you get to run around with a rifle and pretend there's an enemy there, and fire blanks, and charge, but then you lie down on an ant nest, you don't get to shower for 5 days, you try not to shit for 5 days, you probably don't brush teeth for 5 days, you get soaked in the rain...

The little things start to count, like having horlicks sweets in your field rations, standing in a line and getting hosed because that's as good a shower as you'll be getting, having training cancelled because of bad weather, falling sick and not having to join the rest, going home on Saturday morning at 10am instead of 1pm in the afternoon...

I'd be amazed if you don't complain about being turned out in the middle of the night in the middle of the jungle and have to pack up all the tents and assemble and fast march with rifles overhead and your vision is blurred and you're practically running, with fullpack on your back and rifle weighing a ton over your head.

I'd be amazed if you don't complain about starting each morning with a 3km run and breakfast, and have to face a full day of training. Or just before going to bed, a "change parade" where you're asked to assemble downstairs in some combination of attire, then some other combination, and another, and everyone else waits downstairs for you in push-up position if you're taking a little longer to change from T-shirt to army uniform and boots...

Don't even get me started on those most fucking minute things known as mosquitoes.

Again, I cannot stress how lucky I am to be going to work where I am tomorrow morning.