The God of Small Victories

I recently rediscovered the joys of milo -- mixed with coffee, that is. If anything were to give you a rush, this one's got my endorsement. Talk about a sugar-high.

So here I am feeling nostalgic on a Sunday afternoon in my office. It was probably during one of my first scouts camp in Sec 1 that I learnt of this cocktail for minors. Being all of my 13 years, bright-eyed (though be-spectacled) and bushy tailed, I was eager to try anything and discover the world through my new-found brethern of crusaders. Scouts had quite a reputation back in my school -- pyromaniacs, sadists, odd-balls (trust me, we were probably the ones with the oddest), campers etc... and, ah yes, the dancers.

We used to dance in scouts. It was one of our undeclared yet official hobbies. Touted as a sure-fire way of bagging them chicks at campfires, we the embassadors of testosterone were only too eager to get our hands on the tricks of the trade. And we went to such pains to make sure that we got it right. Afternoons spent sweating it out between a blaring hi-fi and a one-way mirror in the students' lounge, bruised knees, sprained ankles and dirty buttocks. Ah... the smell of teen spirit. And on the night of our performance at the campfires, we were ninjas, and our kung-fu was strong. No matter how bright the lights got, or how bad others thought we had performed, we were superstars and had earned our 15 minutes of eternal fame.

That's almost 10 years ago... Still things don't seem to have changed much. When I met up with the peep-squeeks over the weekend for a Charity Walkathon, they were still the mis-fits uttering smart-alec comments, corny jokes and imitations of Russel Peters. "Be a man; do the right thing," echoed through a (thankfully) deserted waterfront theatre at Marina City Park. I should have felt embarrassed to have these kids act this way around me... But somehow, I was an annoying little scout again that night. We were all one and the same here in Marina City Park, camping out under that stars, anticipating the prep work that lay ahead for the Charity Walk the next morning.

It was the most wonderful of feelings falling asleep to the chirp of restless kids and the cries of crickets. I guess I just missed my friends, having them close to share the good and bad times as we grew up and eventually away from each other. Just as I closed my eyes, I could almost feel life moving on by me, from the colourful inadequacies of my youthful brothers-in-scouting to the aged mangled mess that is me, and up to the stars, to where it all begins again.

I don't think I'll ever grow old, not at this rate. I just feel terribly old, that's all.


JKLM