Pray to be a changed man

Before the rain begins, the first smell you may notice as winds pick up and clouds roll in is a sweet, pungent zing in your nostrils. That's the sharp, fresh aroma of ozone—a form of oxygen whose name comes from the Greek word ozein (to smell).

Molecules containing oxygen are split apart by the storm’s lightning, and the individual oxygen atoms recombine to form ozone. This ozone is carried down to the ground by vertical winds (the ‘down-draft’) and pushed ahead of the storm.

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Time

The weather has been beautiful lately, in its own way. The clouds are earnestly blue. The winds taste of hope, resolution, perseverance and mercy - A cleansing. But why does my heart beat arrogantly for it? The hunger of wanting it to define my soul, by making it mine without the ability to possess it, defines an arrogant admirer prisoned by time.

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I am 24 years old. My parents need to stop working, especially my mum. I need to secure a stable job, preferably a public sector - higher stability and suitable culture. I hope BCA calls me back. My parents need to stop working.

My backup plan has always been SCDF. Comfortable. Iron rice bowl. I am thankful for the recent conversation with my station OC. I worry about the 7 months training phase when I have to be away from my house on weekdays. I worry about the post-station stint postings. My regular peers have mixed views and personal stories of their departments. Some are doing well. Some have left.

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The birds have their evening feeding time before dusk. Something genuinely special about that.