I am bored

Halfway through the current school break, I have come to the not so startling conclusion, I am bored. The old adage 'the grass looks greener on the other side' certainly rings true, considering I was hankering so much for the break during the last few weeks of school that I could not focus on my final exams. Oh, I also promptly flunked a couple of subjects, which certainly put a damper on the holiday mood.

Considering that I was constantly telling myself to do badly for my finals, the realisation I sucked so bad was a bitter pill to swallow. I also have to face a realistic consequence in being sent to a so-called non-elite class. Since all the best students are all grouped into the best class, an interesting series of potentially scenarios have cropped up.

I mean, who the hell are we going to rely on when the teacher poses a question and she expects an answer, else she will detain us for whatever depraved experiments she has in store? Or where are we supposed to get answers for our homework? These questions have been posed many times during the past semester, and the answer has always been the same, a select few elites are always the problem solvers. Meanwhile, the rest of us idiots wordlessly mimic them. An apt description would be as such, one fine day, a race of malevolent aliens bent on human extermination yet are too cheap to spend too much, invades earth and takes away all the scientists, doctors and whatever geniuses we happen to have. The rest of us mediocre folks will either be panicking or just plain stupid to be aware.

I am digressing. Anyway back to being bored. My daily activities have settled into something akin to Groundhog Day. The routine is usually broken up by the odd outing where I hang out with my friends. These are the instances where I see my mates, and I can get real human interaction. Unfortunately, blogging does not put food on the table, so I have to limit my excursions.

My saving grace would be my running I guess. After all the boredom where days seem to meld together, I find that running keeps me going, pun intended. No wonder people say runners turn out to be single-minded, obsessive people.

Sky hath no fury

I actually planned to take a longer break, but a force of nature like no other jarred me out from my hiatus. I am going to write about a natural phenomenon that has become increasingly common of late, thunderstorms. As if following a predetermined celestial timetable, massive rainstorms have dutifully taken the place of the previously ubiquitous haze. And like its annoying predecessor, the thunderstorms has disrupted my daily intake of outdoor sports, though it is more deadly than annoying.

Anyway, I thought I will only be affected by the presence of thunder. Well, today I stand corrected. The mere inkling that it was about to strike was enough to rob me of a session of training. Like a master conman, it has been planning its coup since early afternoon, with its usual cohorts, the clouds and rain in tow.

The plan was genius in its simplicity, for they knew the mere presence of some dark clouds will be enough to cause consternation. Jeremy was sufficiently concerned to push forward our planned training session by half an hour. As if to underline its capricious nature, the intermittent thunder gave way to blistering sunlight halfway through our workout, then came back on again to usher us out of the training ground. To future compound the illusion, the conspirators threw in some light drizzle for good measure. I was really looking forward to another long run with another group of runners, but the ominous sounds of distant thunder did what the light rain could not, so I decided to play football instead. Suffice to say, my projected half hour of football was extended to one and a half hours by the distinct lack of rain and lightning.

On another remotely related note, the people who set our MUET listening component questions got it spot on. Turns out that the info we got from that pompous voice might come in handy in these thunderous times after all.

Ex-ecution-am

Looking through the blogs of my schoolmates, the flavour of the month seems to be our year-end exams. Some devote half a dozen posts to describe all aspects of it. And I admit, I sure am amazed, I never knew there are so many angles from which to write about an exam.

I am probably late to get on the bandwagon, since my exams are more than halfway through, but this is my first exam post of the season. There was simply so avoiding this, the carnage was too brutal to ignore. Even MUET, which was the only exam of consequence since it is the actual one, was unkind to me.

I know how everyone seems to say they feel like throwing their exams, but this time I really did not have any high hopes. I doubt my mind was on school anyway. You cannot really blame me though, since seven weeks of freedom lies just beyond. Nevertheless, I guess that the school authorities are determined to make us suffer for this, as evidenced by the merciless papers.

To kick things off, we have the written part of PA(Patriotic Assholism). This is arguably the dumbest subject of all time. It basically consists of government propaganda, graph-drawing, and some essay writing. I mean who the fuck draws graphs by hand now anyway? Haven't the education administrators heard of Excel? Powerpoint? ANyway, we had 3 hours to do the stupid stuff. Normally 3 hours would mean a world of hurt for the derriere, but for once I was hankering for more time. I guess this only highlights the utilitarian nature of this subject, since the reason I could not finish was that the figures for the graph took so much time to tally and decipher. In the end, I only finished 4 out of 6 questions, with the graph uncompleted and the analytical essay untouched.

As expected, I fared no better the next day, since it was Physics and scientific subjects are the real killers. Even though I stayed up until 2 to study and had a sudden attack of kiasuness just before the exam, I felt strangely inured. Of course this did not make the Form 4 idiots' impression of a zoo any easier to take. My head already hurting from the lack of sleep, I felt like someone took a jackhammer to it. And since I had a proper excuse this time, I did not even bother to answer all the questions. No, I am not using my headache as the excuse. My teacher actually told us that it is ok not to finished all the questions since there was not enough time, way BEFORE the exam. Oh well.

Chemistry has basically been a tough subject for me, and it isn't about to change anytime soon. I also felt oddly numb and just took it as it is. And yet again, the zoo downstairs are in full force. This batch really is the dumbest, loudest batch of all. Aside from that I have no complaints really, my expectations are that low. My biggest concern this day was coming back to an empty house, since my family are on their way to enjoying a wedding banquet, sheesh.

After spending the night at my aunt's place, I woke up at the crack of dawn, ready to face the MUET exam. Okok, it was more like 7 and I was anything but ready, suffering from the lack of sleep of the past 3 days. The first paper was relatively easy, I even had time to actually sleep for an hour or so. This is a record of sorts since I was never actually able to really sleep in school before. The next paper was essay writing, usually my forte. I do not know where some celestial bodies in some faraway galaxy collided or what, but the topic could not have been worse. Of all the things, I was required to write about some cold dissertation on why ...... Argghhh! Even thinking about it makes my mind numb, so you can imagine the creativity draining out of me at that moment. It is potentially the worse I have ever written, it was that bad. Coming into this, I was under pressure to get a Band 6 since I had to sacrifice an important family commitment, but looks like it was a meaningless sacrifice after all. The last paper was a ho-hum listening affair, nothing dramatic, partly due to its short duration.

Sitting here now, with Maths and the objective part of PA left, I feel remarkably tranquil even though I am clueless about half the Math chapters. Sheesh, my standards really have dropped.

The sky is dark again

I suppose it is the rainy season again, or not. Either way, I do not really know anymore, since the Malaysian weather has become so much more fickle compared to, say, just 10 years ago when I was just a kid. Anyway, my feelings parallel this a lot, so much in fact that it is creepy.

Remember a spell when my posts were kind of down, follow by a spate of cheery stuff? They reflect somewhat on my feelings at that time. Unfortunately, another series of unpleasant things have cropped up. And at a very good timing too, smack just before my finals, damn.

My mood for the next few days would have been killed anyway, since the rest of my family will be busy stuffing themselves silly next weekend at my cousin's wedding, while I content myself with inane MUET papers. For the greedy pig in me, things could not have been worse, but like all cliches, they inevitably did. My favourite martial art will undergo another impending upheaval. I have been quite lucky with all the disturbances in my club, since the last major and course changing one happened 2 years ago. Since then there have been only minor niggles, and things usually went back to normal after a while. My gut however, tells me that this will be potentially annoying.

To make things worse, it always has to have a double whammy soon after, sorta like a tsunami and its afterwaves you know. And yet again, this has got something to do with the fairer sex. This time, I have a forbidding sense that she really is out of reach, or at least the relationship would be frowned on if it were to happen. The differences should not be that big to most of you, but surprisingly this time, age seems to be an issue to me.

Oh well, for my previous down times, blog therapy seems to help, but for now I am still feeling the sting.

Teaching teachers

We all hear horror stories about impossibly inept trainee teachers or freshly minted ones, and we might even laugh at their incompetence. Every now and then, we will even personally encounter one, and we will haughtily correct their every mistake, all the while shrinking their already miniscule confidence. Like it or not, noob teachers are as much a part of the school environment as stinky toilets.

Deep down inside, I have always thought that these 'teachers' must have sucked really bad in whatever course they happen to be majoring at in whatever overhyped local university, only to assure myself that they could not suck that much. After all, they did get into university right? Wrong. Today there was an interesting piece on Bachelor of Education (B. Ed) graduates in one of our local newspapers. And boy, was it enlightening. I was not that interested in the whole article itself, but for one minor fact. One of the recent graduates interviewed had a CGPA of 2.64. 2.64, dammit! That's like an average of C! For God's sake, can't she do better than that? And the bigwigs in their fat armchairs expect us to learn from teachers who cannot even hold their own.

For some reason I doubt that this is an isolated case. In fact, I personally feel 2.64 is pretty generous for that undergrad and does not reflect her average capabilities. I do not mean to be racially biased, but my gut tells me that she got a 4.0 or 3.xx in her Islamic Civilisation subject to pull up her grades. Not that there's anything wrong with that, if she wants to teach that subject that is.

Well, this is what we get for training teachers like an assembly line. Not that there's anything wrong with that too, but another gut feeling tells me that the raw material sent in does not exactly conform to SIRIM standards.

Reason to sue

While still in a hazy stupor after my afternoon nap today, I had a thought provoking vision. We all hear about smokers with lung disease who sue tobacco companies for massive amounts of money when they themselves made the choice to smoke. All this smacks of irresponsibility and passing the buck, traits which I associate with smokers. Because of their despicable habit and this, most of them disgust me. So, what would happen if the tables were turned?

Since most smokers (in Malaysia at least) light up regardless of location nor occasion, non-smokers are often exposed to their toxic fumes. Obviously, these toxic fumes have an effect on them too, creating sickness, and thus forcing the afflicted to pay needless medical fees to get well. It's not like smokers do not do it on purpose too. Because most of them arrogantly ignore what ever pleas to refrain from smoking, it can be said that they are purposely bringing harm to people. I mean, when you beat someone up and send them into hospital, you are forced to pay their medical fees right? The same goes for this, and smokers should pay for the damage they cause, perhaps they should pay even more, for the damage is internal and the are such irresponsible retards.

Having said all that, all we need is a good lawyer and someone to be made an example of, and presto, we have a better smoking deterrent that the lame ass 'Tak Nak'! campaign.

Blooded

Having had my blood sucked dry figuratively all my life by the costs of living, I finally got the taste of having it done literally today. Of course not until I am bone dry, so rest assured, this blogger ain't going nowhere for now.

My dad has been a life-long blood donor, up until very recently, when they told him he was overaged. Nevertheless, he has always encouraged me to do the same. My response every time has been the same, ' See first-lah'. I am not one to go out of my way to do something, unless it has anything to do with girls of course, and this was no different. But things have a way of dropping into your lap, and the news that my school's Sixth Form Society is having a blood donation drive made the choice for me. I did not have to go out of my way to donate blood, in fact I would have to go out of my way to NOT donate, as some of my friends are inclined to do.

Anyway, since I am still not legally 18, I had to get authorisation from my old folks, nevermind the fact that 'legality' was just 3 days away. Old pops was more than happy to let me spill my blood, though Mum as usual had her reservations, but allowed me to do as I wish anyway. Seeing as the campaign was big news if not a big deal to us Sixth Formers, it was certainly a hot topic for discussion. Some of my classmates dredged up old horror stories about the ineptitude of the nurses, usually involving the relative of a neighbour of a long lost friend's father, or something like that. Most of them have a grain of truth in them though, and I was a little apprehensive.

Regardless, when the day came, I was up for it, nevermind my heart that was threatening to show off how much it can dish out a beating nor the legs that were making a better impression of jelly with each step to the blood donating area. I had counted on the companionship of a few classmates to shore up my courage, but it turns out that only less than a dozen were up for it. Oh well, I guess it's true when they say that courage comes from within.

When I got there, there were loads of students already milling about. To be blunt, it was a mess. Most of them were there to just soak in the atmosphere, or perhaps Count Dracula was a distant ancestor. In my opinion, they also had too many redundant people on duty. Most of them don't seem to know anything whenever I had a query. In a nutshell, they served to choke up the place.

After wasting about half an hour trying to figure out where to get started, I finally located the correct line, while munching curry puffs and muffins. Ah, the food, glorious food. The food line was limited to muffins and curry puffs, but at least it was all you can eat, and that was enough for someone who's about to lose a pint of his blood. Who knows, I might not make it, and I would want to have a last meal, even if it consists of curry puffs and muffins.

The line might seem long at first, but the next thing I know, I was already in the adjacent room staring at a senior gushing out blood into a bag. Whoosh, and there was an empty cot. This was the moment of truth, but then I already know the ending, for Peter will always go through with his actions. I strode past the a few other prospective donors who were still 'discussing' whether to take this opening. The cot was hard, and I made a tactical error in selecting a cot facing directly the doorway, with the sun in my eyes, but other than that I was ready to roll.

The guy stabbing me was quite young, looked to be in his 30s, and the moment before the needle poked, all the horror stories came flooding back. Ok I just made that up, it was not so dramatic. Actually, I was bantering with the next few people in line, all bravado and bluster. Owing to my location, I was probably the only one there to be able to convey my (feigned) pain. The jab itself was not that painful. In fact, getting stabbed by a spring-loaded lancet moments earlier to determine my blood type hurt more, so much more that I was thinking about the prick more than the big needle in my arm. I would say then that this process was the most painful. Hours later, I would be proven wrong when ripping off my plaster though.

I felt fine even though I am 1 pint lighter and wasted no time in pigging out at the food table. Munching on yet another piece of curry puff, I came to the conclusion that blood donation ain't that bad at all.

Public Service Announcement: Please Donate Blood.

A new "power"

Today, the world woke up to the news that the world's most exclusive (and dangerous) club has a new member. It is certainly joyous news, and I would like to extend my heartiest congratulations to the brilliant North Korean scientists and spies who made this happen.

Big ups should also go to the esteemed leader Kim for having the foresight and gumption to go through with this in spite of threats of sanction and war and wholesale condemnation by mankind. By doing what he did, he has certainly shown that he trancends mankind and godhood and demonhood and whatever hoods (including the ones on a car), and rightly deserves the blind adulation wrought upon him by his countryman. Even before this defining moment, he has shown more than enough greatness by gaining such respect even by starving his people.

Another big plus from this nuclear test is the fact that Mr. Kim's status as an international leader has been elevated. He can now claim equal footing with George W. Bush as a leader of a nuclear nation, and the rivalry can now begin properly. Now that they are rivals, we the little people can get some real entertainment, for it looks like it will go a long way. They might even possibly be still at it when both make their way down to their huge specially reserved penthouse in hell. Please do keep in mind though, they will be in hell only because their godlike qualities will make heaven or purgatory too comfortable for their liking, macho men that they are.

POSSIBLE MUET ORAL QUESTIONS HERE!!!

I have a select list of possible questions for the oral component of the MUET exam in my hands --- not. Alright, that title was just an experiment to test the effectiveness of adding '!!!' to the end of a blog title to attract readers. Ok ok, I admit it was also a cheap way to draw in some of the decidedly edgy sixth formers who are about to sit for said test.

SInce we are on the topic of the oral test, I might as well dissect the awesome fear most of my schoolmates have for it. In all respects, it is a simple test, heck this part expends the least energy and takes up the least time but for the listening component. Coming from a school with students who can never seem to keep their mouths shut, I would expect most of my schoolmates to wing it at least. Not so apparently, for the moment someone so much as whispers 'MUET oral test', the whole class clams up like a captured Cold War spy, broken of course by the occasional shiver and whimper.

Normally intelligent and articulate students are automatically reduced to mumbling, incomprehensible puppies when they are simulating the test. Throughout the ordeal, you can actually see cold sweat forming on their foreheads, their fingers twitching, their eyes casting longing looks towards the imagined door of freedom. As an observer, you cannot help but feel for them. Their are being made to go through what is akin to mental torture, and I am not surprised if any of them actually breaks into tears upon completing the damned test.

Obviously, being a motormouth is not enough for you to do well, you need to have substance as well. Having helped some of my friends with their tests, I can see that they have made many points most of the time, perhaps too many. Even during practice, they feel nervous, and when the nerves set in, the clutter of so many differing points trigger a block in the mind and they spit out their points in an incoherant heap. And I am talking about some of the more capable candidates, what about the less confident ones then? Well, it is as if they are not taking the test at all, literally, for they do not say anything that will help their cause.

Having seen the fear factor the oral test inspires in my fellow candidates, I am tempted to ask whether this test is being conducted in the right way. I feel it is to rigid, with too much riding on it. I myself like to take a relaxed approach, trying to make it a tad casual, only to get a mild reprimand to 'not make it too general'. But how the hell am I to make it all detailed and specific in two minutes? How many real life talks and explanations are done and dusted in two minutes or conversations in ten? In the real world, two minutes is only good enough for saying 'hi, ermmm how's the weather lately?', which is exactly what a lot of the candidates do. I can tell you that, a REAL conversation takes more than words, it needs a certain 'feel' and human instinct, things which are inborn in all humans. The idealised 'conversations' and stating of 'opinions' which make up this test are but bastardised simulations of these elements. Pirated in the true Malaysian tradition.

Malaysian commentators revisited

Woo hoo, after the hangover from World Cup 2006, Champions League season is finally here. I look forward to this competition mainly because it is the only major football being shown on terrestrial TV, yeah I am a poor bastard for not having Astro, I know.

Unfortunately, I missed the last round of matches because they were only shown on 8TV and TV9 instead of the usual TV3, and yeah, I am an even poorer bastard for not having these 2 channels too. Anyhow, the dimwits finally realised the folly of their ways and rectified this travesty. Naturally, I took this opportunity to satiate my thirst for live top level football (Malaysian footie doesn't count), waking up bleary-eyed at 3 am.

In my sleep deprived state, I immediately sensed that something was different. The voice commentating seemed to possess a fake foreign accent and it was not as clear as usual. Then it hit me, instead of the usual 'ang moh' commentators, who were always funny and gave interesting comments if nothing else, they used their own 'Malaysia Boleh' el cheapo pundit, who was neither insightful nor interesting. In fact, he was a total bore, the steady monotone being a veritable cure for insomnia, not that I needed one at that moment. It seems like they just selected someone who can make out the which players are which on a TV screen and just because he can adopt a fake accent.

Commentators are useful whenever a match gets boring, which coincidentally happened to the one I was viewing, giving obscure trivia at lulls in the game. Our local hero though, gave out something like 2 bits of trivia, I was not sure because he could not be heard at times over the din of the crowd. Well, even if he was not a fact maniac, he could at least know his football right? Wrong, as it turns out, as he gave the wrong call at least twice.

As a viewer, there are three things I look for in TV pundits, passion, humour and knowledge. Looks like our local commentators can only get two out of three at most.

10 reasons why Malaysia will never be a sporting power (final 4 reasons)

Here's the rest of my post:

7) Our sports selectors are good... at selecting failures:

Time and again our athletes fail to produce the goods when it matters, on the world stage, even though they claim 'to be in their best phase of training'. Well, as an outsider, I cannot comment on the veracity of such statements, but there are certain groups of people who can, the national team selectors. One would assume these selectors constantly have a finger on the pulse as far as athletes' training is concerned, but why they repeatedly send the same duds to get themselves humiliated escapes me. I say, it is time to give some of our bona fide 'jaguh kampung' from our bona fide 'kampungs' a chance. After all, however badly they perform, they cannot do worse than what our 'elite' athletes are producing.

8) Our talent scouts idolise Big Foot:
In a country of 24 million, there are bound to be some world class sportsmen. Hell, the Czech Republic has 10 million citizens, yet they can scrape together not 1 but at least 22 truly world class athletes to compete in serious competitions like the World Cup. Meanwhile, our selectors struggle to string together a side that can challenge for a small mug like the Tiger Cup. Selectors shoulder the blame, to a certain extent, because you got to admit that you do not have much choice when your options are limited to some David Beckham wannabes with the hair and boots but not the skills. To discover the other guilty party, we must go down nearer to the grassroots. World champions do not just drop out of the sky like Superman, they must be unearthed and nurtured. And where can we find these raw gems but in the schools and fields? Unfortunately, we drew the short end of the straw by having talent scouts who do not like to do field work. How many times have we heard of sporting gods being discovered playing or running barefoot in his neighborhood field? But how many times has this happened in Malaysia with good talent, nevermind the geniuses? Forget Big Foot, these scouts are so elusive that you can only see them at some big inter-school competition. And what is the point when most of the kids there that shine have some form of training anyway. Looks like our 'raw' talent are actually only considered 'rare', huh? (bonus marks for those who catch the pun) Suggestion: Fire our current scouts and use the money to set up a hotline ala 'Rakan Cop' for the public who catch sight of a potential Zidane or Ronaldo.

9) Sporting talent seems to be connected with skin colour:
Our small talent pool is dried up even further because certain sports seem to be enjoyed by a single race, thus possibly eliminating a future Yao Ming just because he is too tanned. Personally, I am perplexed by the lack of Chinese in distance running, simply because of the misconception that Indians and Malays are 'better' at it. More often than not, this type of pigeonholing can only happen in Malaysia though, as the last time I checked, the distance running records of the far eastern countries (China, Japan, Korea) are still better than India's. There are other examples to support that races and skin tone has nothing to do with aptitude in a certain sport, such as the captain of the national basketball team being Indian, and one of the top national table-tennis players being Malay.

10) Sport is rather low on the agenda..., riiiiight after washing the toilet and doing the dishes:
You know, for all the talk of discovering talent, nurturing them, building cutting edge facilities, then selecting the best ones for competition, what happens when there are no talents to be discovered? I mean, fewer and fewer kids do sport just because of sport, they usually do it just to get something in return, like some declaration on a cert just so they can get into university. Consequently, kids who do this will always see sport as a chore, an afterthought, and these kids form the majority. A lot of them loathe the idea of getting soaked in sweat and grime that they willingly forgo they endorphine high accompanying said sweat and grime. I wager that most of them would rather clean the loo and do dishes than run a couple of laps around the field. Magic solution: make our loos waaaaaay bigger, as in big enough to fit godzilla, and substitute plates with 10 kg dumbell weights, then at least sport will get bumped up a notch or two.

10 reasons why Malaysian will never be a sporting power (first 6 reasons)

In the aftermath of the spectacular underachievement of our national badminton team in the recently concluded world championships, I have decided to sit down and ponder about our beloved nation's overall mediocrity in sport. And I have come to the conclusion that barring a miracle on the scale of Jesus walking on water, we will continue to be stuck in this rut. Here are 10 reasons why:

(The list is in no particular order of importance by the way)
1) Our road and transport system sucks:
Huh? What the hell does the road and transport system have to do with this? Loads, I tell you. In fact, I would stake a hell lot that this is the main reason. Since it is so screwed up, our future world beating, butt kicking stars spend most of their time stuck in transit, no thanks to our world famous traffic jams. And they cannot walk to training either, because someone has not been maintaining our roads well enough. You cannot train well with an ankle screwed up from stepping into too many potholes right? Running or walking to training is also impractical unless you have a fetish for smog, which brings us to the next thing on my list;

2) Our roads, trails, halls, fields... hell anywhere is so chockful of air pollution:
This is THE main complaint for me. A budding athlete might lack monetary support, parental blessing, training aids..., you name it, but one thing he will not lack, regardless of his status, is air pollution. Wherever a budding athlete may turn, he will always be confronted with the familiar choking sensation of smoke, from the car produced goodness on the road to the cigarette inspired dizziness at his training hall. Personally as a runner, I am very incensed by the sheer number of cars on the road, and most of them with only a single haughty driver in them. Have you people not get the hint yet? Rising petrol prices means you do not drive your car if you can help it, stupid. This reason is only applicable if there are training sites to run to or get choked in though;

3) Dude, I lost my training hall/field/running trail!:
Another day, another field lost. To what or into what, you ask. Now this is where it gets creative, at various instances, my neighborhood field has donned the guises of cattle grazing ground, driving range, picnic site for some company function. It is still OK though, compared to what some other fields have become, low cost housing areas, shopping malls, dumpsites, meeting area for randy youths, breeding site for snakes et cetera. Fields are not the only nurseries for sporting talent that are lacking, some running and hiking trails have been annexed by entrepreneuring traders who have taken to doing business along these trails. Well, if anything positive has gone out from all these, it is that we Malaysians have a flair for adapting unsuitable locales to serve our own ends. I have a suggestion to rectify this though, clear a field, then label it a carnival ground, I guarantee that the only use it will get is as a football field. Sorta like the 'Polo Ground' we have now, except that it is a football ground.

4) The 'Waitaminute, you mean I actually have to stand upright to do this?' attitude rules:
I know we live in the cyber age where we can do nearly anything and everything virtually. Unfortunately, sport is not one of them, and I do not consider retarded cybersport as actual sport, just brilliant marketing. Obviously, the adage 'practice makes perfect' especially rings true for sport, where our future Tigers and Rogers must actually put in the time and dedication for their chosen sport. Too bad though, that our young actually get to experience what these two sporting gods go through a little to closely and a little too much, via computer games bearing their name.

5) Our politicians waste too much money debating inane issues instead of developing sport:
Recently, many newspapers have brought up the issue of setting up a forward base for sports in England. Of course, it also highlighted the typically differing views expressed by different YBs, and the arguments which followed. Most of the debates happened in Parliament, which is the correct outlet. But the funny thing is that this supposedly more learned folk took such a long time to decide on it. I mean, come on, go ask the man on the street for his opinion, and he will give a reply within 5 seconds, and 9 times out of 10 it will probably be the same. Yet, our MPs wasted so much saliva and taxpayers' funds talking about an obviously impractical suggestion, funds which can be utilised to fund our sporting pursuits. Suggestion: Cut the crap, even though you like it.

6) Our stadiums are too new and sparkling:
Yup, you heard me, they are too new. Not because the RM900 per month groundman works hard at maintaining our sporting facilities, but because they hardly get used. The administrators seem intent on making sure that their stadiums get as little use as possible. There is a nice stadium nearby with a great tartan track. Sadly, the track barely gets used once a month, simply because it is not open to the public. Even the state track team does not get to use the track except in the run-up to a big competition, having to settle for a grass track at one of the nearby schools. It is not like the track will be ruined from getting too much use, nor does it require detailed maintenance, unlike the cinder tracks of old. Perhaps they are afraid that we will steal some of the fixtures there, since the steeplechase barriers are so easily portable and all, and the market price for small bits of rubber track is rising. Riiiight.

Ok, that is all for today. But before you crucify me for not being able to count, this is just the first part, the following 4 reasons will be up tomorrow.

Memories buried and unearthed

Everyone has skeletons in their closets. As for me, I prefer to tuck these skeletons as far in as possible. Ever since I was a primary school student, I have been conciously trying to forget about the past, forget whatever memories I have acrued. I am literally someone who just lets the past slide, which might seem like a rather carefree way to live life.

Unfortunately, I do so because of the wrong reason, I just want to forget whatever unpleasantness I am feeling. Notice that I mentioned that I have been like this since primary school, which coincided with a very angsty phase of my life, where I was ostracised by my (mostly female) schoolmates. Suffice to say, life was not very pleasant when people keep picking on your weaknesses or being nasty to you.

What started as a defense mechanism evolved into something else as time went by, I casually forget for the past few years simply because it is easier to do so than to remember. A fountain of youth for the mind if you like, since I feel that memories 'age' someone in mind and soul. Consequently, I am now not good with names or faces.

Even though my early childhood happened way before any of this, it was also retroactively affected. I found that out during my psyche test some time ago, when the teacher-counsellor asked whether I remember anything from my childhood that might have triggered a blank. To my slight surprise, I drew a blank, a total blank. The real surprise was that deep down inside, my emotions were just as blank about this.

In spite of my efforts, my memories do not stay buried forever though. Sometimes when I do something, a certain memory is triggered. It does not even have to be something special, even a routine walk might dredge up something from my sea of memories. Same goes for the memory too, it can just be something normal and boring I did when I was a child. These memories that occasionally resurface are also just as quickly forgotten. But like teachers from another age, they never fail to offer some insight into what I have been, and guidance about what I should do. Things that I did without a second thought when I was really young suddenly seemed so childish and pointless.

Having typed all that, I still feel like a mere observer in my life. Pointless huh?

An ant's tale

The magnificent creature was going about its domain, staking its territory lest another one of its species start having illusions of grandeur. In its own corner, it is king, its power unchallenged its sovereignity unchallenged. But for those foolish enough to do so, a clamp of its menacing mandibles ensure a most unpleasant disembowelling.

As per routine, it went about its usual itinerary, along a worn jungle trekking trail. It was both daring and foolhardy on the creatures part. The Trail was a notoriously dangerous highway for its kind and other denizens of the jungle, with millions perishing on it. This highway was traversed by dozens of even bigger creatures every day, bipeds who have a tendency to squash hapless slackers, intentionally and unintentionally. These bipeds do not factor into the natural order of the jungle, making it extremely risky to encounter them, but the lordling did not mind. It was a way of exuding confidence and showing its dominance, and the bipeds do drop sumptious morsels every now and then. Nevertheless it did not hurt to be cautious.

Today was very quiet though, with relatively few bipeds passing through. The creature decided to come out from under the safety of the foliage to catch a whift of the morning breeze. After all, what use is a fief if you cannot even walk proudly in it. Its antennae felt a little vibration in the air, something which did not entirely correspond with what is natural, however barely any biped passed through this way since this morning, so the creature decided to disregard the instinct to run. The instinct proved to be correct though, as a few gigantic shadows materialised out of nowhere and crowded around. Frantic, the creature dashed for the safety of the trees, to no avail. It knew it was sighted, and worse, it was targeted. The creature was very fast for its kind, but still definitely no match for the bipeds. A single stride from them would cover any gulf that would take the creature minutes to cross. It was trapped.

The bipeds came at it with a vengeance. They used a transparent portable prison to try to ensnare it, really methodical these bipeds, using the prison itself to catch it. They have definitely killed before. The creature evaded the first run, narrowly ducking the cage and darting between the legs of its persecutors. It was overmatched, but it was going to make a fight out of this yet. The bipeds reacted quickly, blocking its escape with a wall made of material similar to the prison's. The wall moved quickly and slammed into the creature, knocking it into the prison. Although dazed, its will to survived drove it to run, anywhere would do. Its efforts were rewarded when its feet touched the damp ground of the trail. Never had it been more grateful for the touch of the ground, but from its brief brush with the prison, its fears were confirmed, they are killers, the deathly stench of their previous victim, a distant kin, was still hanging inside.

On and on, both hunter and hunted kept up the game of wits, both unyielding. For the hunters, this was another trophy for the collection; for the hunted, this was for its life. Having continuously thwarted the bipeds' attempts, the creature thought that it would win this battle when the hunters eased up. To its chagrin, this was just the lull before the storm. Frustrated, a biped decided to abandon the refined approach, and proceed to just drop the prison on top of the creature. Game over. Putting on the cover took some creative manipulation, but it only delayed the inevitable, there will be no rescue party to take advantage of the stall.

The whole prison was inserted into a dark cavern-like structure worn on the back of one of the bipeds. There was another bigger prison of similar make in it, containing another one of its species. This one was very much smaller though, just a youth in comparison. Understandably, the young one was also agitated, constantly running around its enclosure, probing for an escape outlet. But the newly deposed lord knew it was futile though, the prisons are impenetrable, even by its own deadly mandibles. The young one, will probably die of exhaustion soon, running itself to death. Resigned to its fate, the lordling resolved to face death with dignity.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

At least, this is how I imagine the giant ant I caught this morning would see it. As of now, its smaller counterpart had its death throes hours ago. The big one is getting agitated itself, and it is beginning to show the signs exhibited by its departed kin. I have tried feeding it, with bread, water and even sugar, but it is not eating. It is running around madly, but not at the intensity of the other two ants, perhaps this will allow it to last until tomorrow morning, when Shy Yan or Ju Ping will preserve it.

I am worried that the ant will die, but for all the wrong reasons I feel. I want to make sure my efforts were not for naught. Having spent the morning trekking through the hills around the Botanical Gardens (mostly alone), and having some harrowing moments with the terrain, I want to at least have something to show for it, even if it is an ant. And now in all likelihood, even that hardy ant might not survive. Even as I type, I hear the desperate escape efforts of the ant, a rhythmic 'tap-tap-tap', the sound of it clinging on to the cover of the plastic container and then falling, again and again.

I am a sucky driver

Today, I had my first real drive since passing my driving test. And boy did it open my eyes.

I present to you some raw statistics, since numbers seem to reach out to people better. Please do bear in mind that these are from what I can recall. For starters, I nearly ran into two cars, and nearly missed two turnings. I also carried on where I left off from my driving test, stalling my car at least 5 times, once on an upward slope, which illicited a feeling of deja vu when I had to reenact the 'naik bukit' test to get it going again. Another time I had the misfortune of stalling just in front of an SUV, whose driver chose to exasperate matters by honking. As if some noise would magically restart my engine.

From my own noobness, I now know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of abuse and honking. That is to be expected though, since I am actually driving the car. On the other hand, I somehow manage to pity my dad, who was my designated escort since mum did not even let me make it out of the car park before chickening out. He must have some supernatural power, since there is no way a human could actually stay so calm and maintain his sangfroid after the danger I put him through! He did not even flinch, even when I was mere inches from colliding with another car on his side, or when I drove through a junction even when another, (bigger) car was speeding in from the left, another close shave.

Of course, all my misfortune must be taken into context. For all the potential accidents I may have caused, I still did not actually get into one, which is not something I can say for friends like Ju Ping, who went 'drifting' with his dad in tow, dancing at Death's door, or Rong who crashed into a pole and incurred the wrath of her parents not to mention a RM 1900 repair bill.

At the end of the day, I still managed to walk away from my car in one piece, along with my passenger. Certainly it is something to be thankful for, thankful enough for a silent prayer to God for keeping me safe when I am not.

Stillness of the night

I don't know why, but I have always had an affinity with the night, or to be more exact, the wee hours of morning. It might be the quiet, or the loneliness that comes with having the rest of your household in dreamland, but whatever it is, it has always been my most productive chunk of time. In this stillness, I won't be interrupted by my dad's nagging, my mum's constant queries, my siblings rambunctious pranks. With this solitude, my ideas are allowed to form and evolve. Even now, in this undecidedly non-early morning surroudings, ironically writing about this special twilight zone, my thoughts are constantly being intruded upon by my sister plotting on the phone. Yes, very ironic indeed.

Another sobering day

Steve Irwin is dead. Even though I am not as fanatical about the environment as Ju Ping, nor do I have as much access to Astro, I have grown up with his shows. Even now, more than 24 hours after he died, I still could not believe it happened. So what now? There is the very obvious reality that there will never be another 'Crocodile Hunter' show, in its current form at least. While there might be other environmental shows, 'Croc Hunter' had a certain charm that appealed to me as a youngster. Oh well, our time might come any time, so no sense in trying to avoid it. In that sense, I will always admire him, dying while doing what he loves best. I hope I will have the luxury of that one day.

RIP Steve Irwin.

I am a sucky writer

I suck. Well, not really, not even in my deepest doldrums will I ever admit that I suck. But according to a 'reputable' and 'authoritative' person, I do, at writing no less. That's right, my MUET (that's English to those that do not have to take this moronic exam) teacher gave me a Band 3 (out of 6) for an essay. Granted, I didn't really put 100% into this bastard child of an essay, but I didn't think I deserve to be labled 'modest user, fairly fluent, usually appropriate but with noticeable inaccuracies' and 'able to understand but with some misinterpretation' and 'able to function but with some effort' either.

Anyway, here's the offending piece.

Nowadays, the job market has become increasingly competitive. Paper qualifications just could not meet the tough demands of picky employers. Young people need to equip themselves with soft skills to make themselves marketable. Unfortunately, in our structured education system, these skills are precisely what is lacking. Therefore, I suggest that both parents and schoolstake a more proactive role in developing them.

Time is a very precious commodity. In spite of this, youths have a tendency to mismanage it. Perhaps they are not disciplined enough, but the structured school life should be sufficient to rectify this, with a few more adjustments of course. Structured should not mean boring, fun can be injected every now and then, to ensure students do not resent the system. If this discipline is cultivated from young, it will become an integral part of the lifestyle of our youth. Hopefully, they will transfer their time management skills to other aspects of life.

One of the chief grouses of interviewers is that our youth fail to communicate effectively, though they might be intelligent and qualified. I would attribute it to the cyber age that we live in. People are more inclined to use electronic tools to do their "talking" for them, to the extent that it is not uncommon to find youth with "best friends" they have not met in person. While it is easy to say something when you have the confort of your computer or cellphone to hide behind, it is an entirely different proposition when it comes to face to face communication. Confident Lotharios on the internet might turn out to be stuttering, awkward mice in person. How do you expect this person to present himself well to a future boss then? For starters, parents can make their child more sociable by actively encouraging him to go out and interact more. They can also impose limits on computer and cell phone use. CHildren are naturally shy, but if given encouragement, they will move out of their shell. As time goes by, the children will build meaningful friendships, and learn to manage them well.

For all the talk about the importance of good minds and engaging personalities, they will come to nought if you are too sick to use them. All the same, employers will also be less inclined to employ someone if they feel he will have too many sick days. In their paper chase, young people often push healthy living to the bottom of the agenda. This is also exacerbated by distractions like television and computers. It is a curable problem though, with both schools and parents capable of supplying the antidote. School authorities can give exrcise a more central role, instead of obsessing about paper grades. I am sure a period or two of the more mundane subjects like History and Moral Education can be sacrificed to make way for morning exercise. The students probably will not mind too, since they will be nodding off anyway. School is one thing, but students spend a lot of time at home too. To take advantage of this, parents can constantly impress on them the importance of healthy living. Parents can start by cutting back on the oil and salt when they cook and exercise instead of watching television with thier offspring. Sure, all this might not make them popular with thier children at first, but subconciously it will be drummed into them. By laying down the foundations, our young people stand a chance to make a difference.

Soft skills might be underrated, but it is definitely time for us to focus on them. Stoic efficiency is just not enough, especially since our current economy is shifting more and more towards knowledge based services.

There, this is the offending piece. I admit I strayed a bit from the main subject which included giving reasons. But the teacher derided this essay as being 'narrative', bastard child of an essay this may be, but it is still my child. And to add insult to injury, she casually mentioned that we(the students) are too used to writing 'narrative essays'. Well, if anything narrative essays are the way to go, lest we want to bored our audiende to sleep. Heck, what I learned here through trial and error, will always be infinitely better than what she can teach in the classroom.

Before I end, I feel obliged to leave a line about Ju Ping, who also fell victim to the POC(prudish old crone, in his own words). He had it worse that I did, if anything, he got a 'low band 3' and before that, he was roundly screwed in the recent MUET test.

Random artsy-fartsy post

I will be the first to admit that I am not the most creative of writers. Indeed, I do not think I am particularly creative in any field at all. To sum it up, I do not create, rather I modify. But every now and then, I get one of those brain farts that result in some really weird writing. Here is one good example of a weird poem:

Alan Tea

I know a dog named Alan Tea,
Who's small, cute and oh so funny,
He's quiet and loathes to bark,
But the last thing you should do is to take him for a lark.

As dogs go he's atypical,
Probably because he's not as cynical,
He romps about with nary a moan or whine,
The games he plays show curiosity's sign.

Very carefree and joyful he sure is,
Though he can be serious and no duty does he miss,
He roams and prowls every now and then,
Always on the lookout for suspicious men.

Now, he might look placid and peaceful,
He might like to sleep and drool,
But anyhow he likes to be,
He's still our very own Alan Tea.
_____________________________________________________________________________________

This one was partly inspired by a real dog, and I had a lot of time, so why not?

Bug central 2

*continued from previous post*

The meal was simple but adequate. Having sated our hunger, it was time to go. The plan was for Ju Ping to drop us off at the town bus terminal and we would get a bus to Komtar. I have to mention that this is our first time taking a bus from such an 'ulu' place. It looked simple enough when we first reached the terminal, there was only one bus that looked like it was going somewhere. Looks could be deceiving though, as we were about to find out.

To start with, the bus did not have anyone on it, and we were the first ones to board it. Having barely settled ourselves, I caught sight of an incoming bus. That was when a sudden 'kiasuness' came over me, and I quickly alighted from our bus and rushed over to the other one ala Amazing Race. Startled, my companions followed suit. Embarassingly for us, and especially me, for I was the instigator, the bus turned out to be incoming, and we were actually on the correct bus.

We rolled into the terminal, and got onto the correct bus for the second time, all the while accompanied by the sound of Shy Yan laughing her head off. Nothing more embarassing than making a mistake and having someone rub it in by laughing very hard at you. And what was my reaction? I laughed, silly as that may sound, but laughter is really the best way to cope with failure as I found out then. In a way, it really is cathartic, since I doubt this is will be my reaction a few weeks ago, I will probably sink deeper into the myre of disappointment. Looks like those dark days are behind me now.

After the earlier histrionics, the ride turned out to be uneventful...not! The route it took was curving and hill hugging. There were spots where the bus had to actually stop to allow another heavy vehicle to pass. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. At one point someone commented that it was just like travelling to Taiping, referring to the fact that the most of their classmates are making a 3 day road trip to Maxwell Hill specifically to catch bugs. In spite of the perilous road, complete with road works, I cannot help but feel drowsy.

After about 1 hour (yes, it was that long!), we reached Komtar safely, where we were to be picked up by Wei Fang's mum. Before that though, Wei Fang and Shy Yan had some errands to run. Wei Fang had to go up Prangin Mall to do his, and being a lazy ass, I decided to tag along with Shy Yan and Ee Wen. But as it turned out, she had to pick up her contact lenses and the shop was around the block. I am not complaining though, as there was quite a strong hair raising breeze.

At the shop, we had to wait for the contacts to be brought out. And both the girls took this opportunity to comment that I look like (young) Harry Potter. Just when I thought it was behind me...(Bangs head on wall).

Task completed, we headed back to meet Wei Fang. He was already waiting when we arrived at the rendezvous, and his mum was already on the way. She will send us back to the C Gate of Chung Ling High School where I will hopefully get a ride somehow. As it turns out, my victim was Shy Yan as we technically live on the same street, 'technically' being the operative word since I lived on one end while she lived on the other.

All in all, it was an eventful and interesting day, hell seeing Wei Fang, Shy Yan and Ee Wen cower in fear of Ju Ping's dog was already worth the price of involvement ;).

Bug central

Today I did something totally unexpected of me, as a person and as a physics student. Having decided to move out of my comfort zone and experience more, I went and caught bugs with some of my biology student friends. And it was not your typical stroll in the park and catch a few bugs affair, nuh-uh, it was a full blooded, hike up the hills, running around with butterfly nets like mad men type of hunt. Heck, it even warranted its own special trip to the nether regions of the island.

The day started very early, at 6.30am to be exact. That was the scheduled pick-up time for the participants in our expedition. Unfortunately, I was unable to make it due to a slight error in understanding. In a state of panic, I had to resort to contacting Ju Ping, who was the leader of the day. Thankfully, this was quickly sorted out, with his mum making a detour to fetch me, but not before making making me sweat it out anticipating the reception she might give me. But guilt aside, I was lucky to get off with nothing but some mild chiding.

As our destination was located on the other side of Penang Island, we had to go over hill and dale to get there. The trip was literally hair-raising (not knocking on your mum's driving skills, Ju Ping), courtesy of the open window policy we were adopting. Seated at the side, my hair was constantly in a vertical state, but no where near as wavy as Wei Fang's were though :). We arrived at Ju Ping's house safely, but his mum's driving skills were not my main concern anyway, it was his actually, for he was to be our killer driver for the duration of our bug-catching operation.

The exact spot where we wage battle with our six-legged foes is an orchard owned by one of Ju Ping's family friends. After parking the car at the foot of the hillock, Ju Ping was given a tour of the trail we were to follow, while we the four remaining bug-catchers psyched ourselves up to take the slow walk up the incline while hopefully bagging bugs.

It was during this wait while doubts about the enormity of our task cropped up. Our erstwhile cocky and confident heroes started to lose belief, making statements and questions like, 'It's not easy u know, the other team only got 8 bugs in their entire day out in the field!' or 'The bugs might mutate and kill and preserve us instead! OMG!'. Ok ok, I made that last part up, but we were less than optimistic. And after finally getting our leader back and getting on our way, our fears were initially realised. Bugs were no where to be seen, and the ones sighted were the types not worth seeing. Our early attempts fell flat too, adding to the self-doubt. I guess our day just got a little bit longer.

As they say, it only takes a crack to burst the dam. I could not agree more with this statement. We did not have to wait long to open the floodgates. Yours truly played a part in getting that first kill, ahem ahem, by performing a downward cut like a samurai with a butterfly net on the unsuspecting bug, while our Animal Planet watching, Steve Irwin imitating leader coaxed it into the container. It might only be a small bug, but it was a morale booster, for me at least, and showed that we stand a chance against them.

This initial success seemed to burst the dam, as we found a cluster of earth bound bugs soon after, easy meat for us pro catchers ;).In the next hour or so, we were really racking up the bugs, with more than 20 caught. Not a bad rate by all means. Unfortunately though, depending on how you see it, most of them were of the small variety, and Ju Ping reckoned it was wise to move on to bigger game. To do that we must hike deeper into the orchard.

Along the way to the Promised Land of big bugs, we managed to come across many more smaller bugs, but we could all thumb our noses at them now. Too bad for the lack of huge ones though. However, we did manage to come across a monster...arachnid. The spider was huge, about the size of my palm, and the main line of its web was as thick as the threads my mum uses for her crocheting. It was very colourful, which probably signaled that it's poisonous, and its fangs look like they could give Dracula's a run for their money. Since this was not what Ju Ping and gang were looking for, we said good bye and left it alone, but not before regretting not bringing a camera.

Being all tired from the hike, we decided to take a break, right on the road, before making our final push to a shed further up. This gave us a moment to truly enjoy our surroundings, and Ju Ping remarked that he could just sit there all day. Very true words indeed. Break over, we packed up and continued on our way. We anticipated another long hike, but we felt really stupid to find that the shed was actually a stone's throw a way, literally, from where we rested.

We kept our end of the bargain by hiking up, but the big bugs did not, as not one of them was in sight. I guess they wised up. Nevertheless, it was a fun hike, with lots of joking and fooling around, most of them courtesy of Wei Fang and Shy Yan, who fought a running battle of one-upmanship throughout. We had to go back to base camp though to murder the bugs and mount them.

Catching them was tough, but nowhere near as tough as knocking them out and preserving them. For starters, we could get them into the plastic containers, but how could we get them out without accidentally setting them free? A conundrum indeed, but the Bio guys were truly intrepid, and managed to improvise some 'techniques' to achieve this. Then there's the other problem of preserving them.

I have been told that a needle filled with formalin will be stuck into the anus of them bug, but I really have to see it to believe it. I could not fathom how they were going to do that on the oh so small bugs, but our expert poker, Shy Yan proved me wrong by casually screwing the bug in the ass.
Killing works the appetite, and it's bad news when you have five hungry teenagers. To save the dog from having chunks bitten off him, Ju Ping cooked up a storm.

*this is getting long, so I will continue tomorrow*

Necessary evil

As I am writing this, my body is quivering from sheer fatigue, both mental and physical. My comrades in the Sixth Form of Chung Ling High School would have just completed our first test since reentering our school. This is also the main excuse for the drop in my blogging activity for the past week or so.

I must say, it is an entirely different feeling from any previous test. For starters, instead of the whole gamut of subjects that we have to take previously, we now have a scant five to occupy ourselves with. This is not to say it will be easier though, far from it. I don't know what's it with the teachers, but from the moment we stepped into Form 6, they were drumming into us how hard it is, talk about negative programming. Consequently, we were already quivering in our shoes at the prospect of the test.

Nevertheless, I still couldn't muster enough motivation to have a go at it, especially after what happened in my last post. Thus, I was resigned to getting my ass handed to me by this big ass test. Being a masochist who enjoys embarassment, I am going to give a subject by subject account of my ass being whupped.

Day 1 Pengajian Am(PA aka Pain in the Ass)
To be honest, this paper is kind of similar to History in some sections, just with more propaganda thrown in. Unfortunately, it also inflicts the same kind of boredom as its brethren. Needless to say, I have been less than enthusiastic when it comes to revising for it, just enough to complete whatever that will be tested. I was quite nervous just before the exam, having visualised all the mental torture my mind will have to undergo, after all if you are going to own someone, you might as well do it from the beginning right? Boy, was I wrong. I didn't bring my calculator and I had to do the sums the old-fashioned way, by pen and paper, and still had at least 15 minutes left. ANd like any sensible student I used the spare time wisely, namely by writing a poem, a really really short one which sums up perfectly the situation I have found myself in:
Tests - a futile battle
You think you know the answer,
But it really is just an illusion,
Just when you think you are better,
It easily reveals your wrong assumption. <(Ju Ping, I think you will agree with this part, if you are reading this)

You think you are filled with knowledge,
But the test results tell otherwise, <(I sure as hell would agree with this, after today)
Just when you think you have gained an edge,
It says you are better off making a peace treatise.

Looking back at this, it sure is remarkably transcient, especially since both the events in brackets happened today, five days AFTER this has been written chucked into my file.

Day 2 Chemistry (for disaster)
Chem is not a kind subject to me, to put it bluntly. I just don't get it, plain and simple. The test itself was uneventful. No poems this time unfortunately, as I was struggling for time.

Day 3 Mathematics
This should rank as one of the biggest anticlimaxes of all time. I came into this expecting a big can of whup ass to be opened and came away feeling like the can was just a size small, and expired. It wasn't hard at all, some parts might be tricky but still doable. The only obstacle was time, as I couldn't finish a question.

Day 4 MUET(fancy term for the English we take)
This was always going to be a cakewalk, since no way am I going to allow anything but a resounding success. I was proven right as the cloze test was only tricky when you have to sieve through the jumble of possible answers. The summary was quite confusing at first, since we had to summarise TWO passages into a single summary, which was totally alien to me. But first appearances are deceiving and I managed to finish comfortably with 15 minutes to spare.

Day 5 Physics
Ahhh, the final day, and the last but definitely not least paper, Physics. This was the day I dreaded the most. Physics has always been a persistent pain in the ass for me, but I have always managed to scrape through with a pass, and on the one or two occasions I failed it was always close. There was to be no such respite today though, as there was no hope left at all after the dust has settled. In the past there has always been a glimmer of hope that I might pass, no matter how badly i thought I did, but not this time. In one fell swoop, all hope was dashed. The paper had me under the cosh right from the start, never letting up its assault on my brain.

That's all for this post, as I am dead tired.

Guilty until proven innocent

What I am about to blog about might get me into trouble, but I don't give a fuck. Certain people have screwed me over, and the people who should have stood up for me didn't, hell, they screwed me over even more, so the fuck I care about damaged reputations. This is a tale with enough treachery and false pretenses to rival Bush's war of terror, set in a school setting of course.

First, some background, since entering Form 6, I have joined the C*unsel*ing Group, note, I do this word masking to at least have some leverage for denial should I get into trouble, but I doubt it, seeing the traffic, or rather lack of, I get in this blog. Anyway, I have had some ideological conflicts with the people in charge, mostly due to me being the fun loving type and them being stuffy sticklers of the rulebook, but things have been fine more or less. From the start, the teacher has always impressed upon us the importance of secrecy and trust, of setting a good example, lest we *gasp* lose our credibility. I even went through a day camp to endure even more talk about this, on the day before my Bridge Run, which is majorly important to me.

Okay, now comes the main part. This tale started 2 days ago, on Wednesday. I usually don't frequent the C*ounsel*ing Room, but on this particular occasion I did. As it was, they have just put up the list of members who have passed the probation period. You don't have to be a rocket scientist to guess that my name wasn't on it. Obviously, I was perplexed, as far as I am concerned, I have fulfilled all the pain in the ass criteria, I didn't miss the camp nor my duty days, and I didn't beat up anyone. Sure, I have had more than my fair share of run ins with the abovementioned committee members, but just because the are taking things too seriously, certainly not enough to sack me.

Thus mystified, I decided to take it up with the teacher-advisor the next day, but I was promptly told to talk to the President instead. Thinking it was a simple clerical mistake, common when you have overworked students moonlighting as secretaries, I thought nothing of it. As luck would have it, the President dropped by my class today to discuss something with a committee member from my class. His appearance was certainly fortuitous, else I would have forgotten to bring it up with him otherwise. Unfortunately, I was shunted aside, yet again, and told to meet him during recess.

Recess came, and I dutifully adjourned to the C*ounsel*ing Room. After settling down, we got ready to discuss the matter at hand. At this point in time, I was still thinking that it was just a simple case of my name slipping through the system. The look on the Prez's face was ominous, but I was still genuinely shocked when the truth of the matter came out. The first question to spring out from his mouth, was one asking me whether I know what this is all about. Well duh, you think I came all the way down for a nice chat? I have Ju Ping for that. Apparently, a few guys, yes guys, have been complaining that I talk about 'dirty' topics, and I don't think they meant dirty laundry, so much so that they feel disgusted. That ticked me off that something wasn't right. If you want someone complaining about obscene talk, at least get a girl, she can plead sexual harassment and whatnot. What guy, guys who have spent a few years in my school no less, would complain about that? Last time I checked, whenever someone said something with sexual innuendo in it, the whole class laughed, boys and girls.

What does that have to do with the absence of my name on the list, you ask? I have been 'left out' of that list because of that, and pending the results of a psyche test. A psyche test? Oh yeah, some more background, last week I took a psyche test which consisted of drawing a few fruit trees. I took the test thinking that it had something to do with my future career prospects, a guide if you like, and the teacher who gave me the test said something along the lines of that.

Anyway, my assumption was about to be torn down. The moment the Prez mentioned the psyche test, I was like 'WTF???', and thought, this couldn't be the test I took last week, can it? This was definitely getting weirder by the minute. Stupidly, I asked the Prez what psyche test? He proceeded to ask me an even stupider question, 'do you know what the test you took last week was for?'. Well duh. My brain cells were obviously dulled by all the math questions I was doing before this meeting, but I managed to put two and two together in the duration between him asking me that question and giving the answer.

The teacher-advisor having heard the allegations against me, arranged for another teacher to give me a psyche test. And I can't believe that I thought there was no ulterior motive. Talk about doing something under false pretenses. So now my reputation depends on some drawings of fruit trees I made while thinking it was for something else, sweet.

After taking a minute to digest the charges levelled against me, and trying to think of even one incident remotely fitting the ones described, I came to the conclusion that it was a premeditated set up. Evidence you ask? I have none, I will admit that, but there are just some things that don't match up. The persons knew I was a C*unsel*ing member, but I don't think many know that, heck I don't even get to freaking wear the badge. While I do tell bawldy jokes every now and then, I am by no means the biggest source of them, and I don't think mine were particularly 'powerful'. Besides that, they were directed to my classmates around me, and I honestly trust that they are close enough with me to not take offense.

Upon gathering taking all that in, I tried to be calm, but it was hard not to be angry. Someone has just performed a character assasination on you, and it was a perfect one too, with me not knowing about it until now. And with the stupid anonymity shit, they don't even have to be held accountable for all the slander. Trying to be reasonable, I asked the Prez whether it was fair to take action against me, just because someone decided to sully my name, and they have heard the people attacking me, but they haven't heard the people defending me. In my heart, I was fucking pissed, haven't they heard of innocent until proven guilty? Aren't the C*ounsel*ing Group supposed to be more open? It's ok to turn your backs on one of your own? To me, this was hypocrisy to the max. Instead of all the caring shit they constantly preach about, I have a dagger stuck between my shoulder blades just because the teacher-advisor wants to protect their image.

Walking back to my class, I was in a funk, and my anger was not tempered by the sight of certain people walking together. I spent the next two periods of MUET doing basically nothing. If the people who are out to get me are in my class, I don't want them to gain any knowledge from what I say. Yes, this sounds egotistical, but MUET is the only subject I can make an impression in, and people actually turn to me for help in. I just feel so betrayed.

When the truth gets out, and it WILL get out, I expect an apology from the parties involved, especially the CG. As of now though, I am thinking of the RM10 I spent for the guidebook, RM13 I spent for the t-shirt, used only once, RM5 for the camp I attended, and how I could get all the money back. It ain't about the money, but I would do anything to hurt them now.

Irony of ironies

This is supposed to be intended solely for the FuckRIENDSTER version of my blog, but I thought 'what the heck, they bloody robbed me of my intended post of the day' and decided to air the dirty laundry here too.

*The blog originally bearing the above title could not be presented. Reasons will be outlined below. WARNING: liberal use of expletives.*

FUCK YOU FRIENDSTER. This stupid imbecilic, outdated excuse for a website just robbed me of a perfectly good post. I was typing halfway through, hell it wasn't even halfway, but I sure as fuck spent 45 minutes on it, and it was fucking long, when FuckRIENDSTER decided to screw around with the connection. Ok fine, you can fucking screw around with it, hell, it happens to blogspot half the time, just ask my friend, Ju Ping, but the difference between genius and stupidity is sometimes just the ability to mindlessly retain content. For fuck's sake, at least try to be a little more reliable and don't just wipe off the hard work people put in.

And for those of you wondering why I don't just use blogspot once and for all, I do. I have another blog there with the same content, the address of which I am going to post now. The thing is I will for convenience's sake write in FRetardIENDSTER's blog then copy and paste to blogspot. But no fucking more, I am going to do the opposite now. This crap of a site is useful only because it is accessible to most of the people I know.

Anyway, I just endured a fucking weekend, and this shit just crops up. Screw you, my the retarded programmers responsible for this intellectual violation never be able to get an erection again.

Inspiration

Ever since last year, my skills in creative writing have steadily gone downhill. Of course I don't mean my normal essay writing, but it's my skill in genres like poetry and prose that has atrophied. One look at the blogs of my fellow bloggers Ju Ping and Kee Wai's blogs (see, repitative use of various forms of the word 'blog', a sign of lack of creativity) would confirm my distinct lack of variation.

Anyhow, I don't feel it's more of a lack of ability on my part than a lack of a muse to unlock that latent talent. It doesn't even need to be human. During my most productive period, if you can call it that, I was on an emotional rollercoaster. Fueled by everything from angst to rage to love to hate, my works were huge in quantity if not in quality. Even today, whenever I look at my works, I can't help but cringe a little. There were a few funny ones, but in general they suck.

Having said that, I feel that those were more of a false peak. Surely I can't be limited to such drivel. In short I just need a trigger. And in recent weeks, I believe I am getting close. A lot of frustration has been building up, along with some passion. But the sad thing is, the source of all this, probably won't appreciate whatever that I might produce.

Anyway, if any of you guys have any good ideas for a story or poem, please be kind enough to share it with me.

Eating a horse

Today I ate what was the equivalent of a horse at a buffet. Oh, alright, a very smaaall horse but I did some extreme stuffing. After all the carnage, I decided to test whether I can damage my bathroom scale. And much to my amazement, I weighed in at 61kg. It might look featherweight to some of you out there, but do keep in mind I weighed about 57kg normal and dry.

So the big question is, whether a human can eat so much?

Lowest of lows, highest of highs

Today was everything I like about running, pushing back the boundaries and reaching new heights. For today was the day I make my debut at the half-marathon distance in the Penang Bridge Run. To say I have been eagerly awaiting this day is an understatement. I have been training hard in anticipation of tackling such a daunting distance, a distance I have never come close to running. Despite some hiccups in training in the build up, most notably with the haze, I was raring to go.

After returning from my walk the night before at only around 11pm, I was only able to snatch around 4 hours of sleep. But somehow, I woke up not feeling tired at all, must be the adrenalin doing its job.

Since the bridge run is a major event, quite a few roads have been sealed off to motorised vehicles. From a point of view as a runner actually running in the race, it is brilliant, but the same cannot be said for me as someone trying to go to the registration point. It was hell in fact, thoroughly confusing. To add insult to injury, it took a good 20 minute run to get there. My adrenalin was still flowing so I barely felt it.

After arriving at the registration point, the gates of hell USM, I was greeted by a huge crowd. They were the same as me, slightly late and trying to register. To add insult to injury, the gate was open only a crack to allow the runners to trickle in. I had godawesomesofastyoucantseeme Aikido evasion technique to go through, that and some good old fashioned shoving.

That was not the end of the hurdles blocking our way, for after registering, we participants in the men's half-marathon were held up on the USM field. We were only allowed to walk to the starting line, some 10 minutes away, 5 minutes before the starting gun was fired. Needless to say, the race has already begun when I finally made it to the starting line.

I frantically started running, eager to make up lost ground. Ok scratch that, I was frantic, but I started with a relatively sedate pace. My school coach advised me to start conservatively since this is my first half-mara. But still I can't bear the thought of lardasses being ahead of me just because they were super 'kiasu' in walking to the start. Thankfully, my more rational side prevailed, and I didn't use tear up the roads, lest I flame out on the way back. On a tangent, I observed that many went out real fast, irrespective of their current physical shape, and I was proven right even within the first mile or so, when the first fatsos were panting like crazy, while some suffered on the way back.

Anyway, it was certainly a surreal experience running on a bridge at 5.30 in the morning. The air was cool but I wasn't shivering or cold. The sky was also very beautiful, and looking into it was like looking right into the universe. And to those of you wondering, yes, I was able to enjoy the scenery, I was going that slow. Going in towards the halway point, I was very comfortable, perhaps too comfortable, for I reached it in 54 minutes, waaaaaay over my target of 47-48 minutes.

Having known that, I decided that it was now or never, and decided to 'fly'. If I have to endure a painful finish then so be it. At this point, my breathing and heartbeat were fine, barely strained in fact, it's just my legs that were my main concern. They always seemed to break down before I am able to reach exhaustion. Anyway, I started to overtake people. Along the way, I was surprised to find out that so many older guys were faster than me up to that point. Either that or they had a damned good start. No matter, speed is the preserve of the young and I made short work of them.

I was even more surprised when I passed the mid-span, for there were a huge number of youngsters ahead of me. Most look younger than me. I can't be THAT slow, or could I? Fortunately, it turns out that they are participants in the 10k junior race turning back. In spite of having 10 km more, I still found the energy to pick them off as they tired in the closing miles. Call me an egoist, but there's no greater pleasure than seeing the looks on their faces while I am smugly gliding past them, while trying to convey a sense of apathy.

With all that said, I managed to run the second half in 48 minutes for a time of 1 hour 42 minutes. not bad at all in my book for a first attempt. That is also good enough to redeem my failure on Friday by my reckoning. That's all for now, as I am incredibly tired. There will be more to come about the post-race, but that is a story for another day, maybe tomorrow.

Calm before the storm

This post was supposed to be written yesterday, but I was out nearly the whole day, and by the time I returned home I was too tired.

Flashback: It was a particularly hectic day. I had to wake up at the crack of dawn even though it was a Saturday. The reason, a day camp in school, projected to last until late afternoon.

In the beginning, the camp was really boring. Ironically this was the part where we were supposed to do some ice-breaking. I spent the better part of it admiring the puffy clouds adorning the sky-blue, uh, sky. Truly a waste of a very good day, I thought. Somehow, I just wasn't in the mood for some fun and games (friends in the know would be aware of the reason). Things have failed to live up to expectations and it set the tone for the day.

Thankfully, we had to move on to other activities very soon after, but not before a few long winded speeches by the organising committee and teacher advisor. Even though this is supposedly a motivation camp, I was anything but motivated at this point. My thoughts were elsewhere, in tomorrow's bridge run and about someone. I was merely going through the motions, reluctantly participating in games and making my apathy known. This was coupled with fatigue, with me having less than 5 hours sleep the night before.

After a quick break and refreshments, we proceeded to being tormented by the officials in charge, usually with water. We were put through silly tasks, some even humiliating. But in the spirit of being sporting, I had to suck it up and take it, even though I wanted to punch some of their lights out just for being so annoying. I guess professionalism is the order of the day for me. I just don't see their humour.

I did manage to sit through the whole thing, I thought. Alas, we had one last task, the most odious one of all I reckon. We still had to sit through the closing ceremony of sorts. Imagine this, a whole room of stinking teenagers, I really do have a high tolerance for BO. To me this part dragged on the longest, the self-admitted compulsive talker teacher just couldn't stop talking. The committee also had a lot to add. All the while, my mum was contantly ringing me and pestering me to come out.

Anyway, we were allowed to go, sort of, since we were called back moments later for some more ear wax cleansing speeches. But it was too late, I had seen my chance, and I took it with both hands. I just strode out without looking, even though they were specifically calling for me to stay for a little while longer. My mum and her accomplices, my aunt, cousin and sis, were already in the school compound, ready to whisk me away.

We went downtown to try to obtain a Physics reference book. It was a futile search and we adjourned to a nearby cafe for high tea or early dinner depanding on how you look at it (it was 6pm at this point). Next, it was off to church for me. I was mentally fatigued and very disturbed.

To clear my thoughts I had already decided to take a romantic stroll, with myself thank you, even though I had a half marathon to endure tomorrow. This time, I decided to take a walk to the Esplanade, this way, I could also do some reconnaisance for an upcoming competition. The route there in itself is not that tough on its own, but the drivers in Penang seemed to decide to congregate along there, for traffic was constantly flowing. It is a wonder that despite all the carbon monoxide present, I still did not pass out. It is during times like this that you get a good look at Penang. For instance, I could barely make out anything at all along one stretch, since there were totally no streetlights! It was a harrowing experience walking through some places, not for fear of muggers but for the fact that Malaysians are such damned good drivers.

Close calls aside, I did manage to reach the Esplanade in one piece. But it was on to another threat to my sanity, high pitched singing. I have neglected the fact that the state level choir competition was being held at the Dewan Sri Pinang hall there. The moment I got within hearing distance of the building, my senses were assailed by a chorus of already high pitched voices singing on falsetto. They were enough to make my hair stand straighter than a flagpole. My friedns in the choir would probably disagree, but I just don't find listening to that type of sound pleasant at all. I endured that for the minute or two it took to move to the back of the building.

After touring a few rounds around the vicinity of the place, it was time to go. My original plan was to walk back along the same way, but my legs simply wouldn't allow me, not if I want to survive my upcoming half-marathon with some pride. And even if I physically could walk home, I wasn't mentally in shape to. The dark stretches and historical aura would have been too much. Plan B entails a bus ride home, and the jetty was just around the block. I spent 15 minutes walking there, only to find out that the buses were heading there straight into the depot. In the end I had to turn to my last resort, my old folks.

So after 2 hours of walking around aimlessly trying to clear my head, I wound up waiting in front of Dewan Sri waiting for my chariot. All the while assailed by strains of high pitched sound (I refuse to call it music). This sums up my day pretty well, my issues were still unresolved, and I am still depressed.

Champion loser

If there a something that I am really, really good at, good enough to become a champion in it, it is definitely losing. Some of you who have actually read my previous posts might think, 'Wtf! Didn't this guy say he was some kind of awesome runner? Then what the hell is he talking about being best in losing???'.

Yes, I lose in running a lot, in fact I lose especially in running. Well, I am good enough to not look bad in running but not good enough to get number one, in other words, actually win. That's right, I have the impressive record of having never crossed the finish line first in a track race, and only once on the roads.

State level, district level, even school level, you name it, I have never won it.I do have a sole gold medal gleaned two weeks ago from a 4x100 relay, but in that instance I was the lead off runner, so the thing about never crossing the finish line first stands, and it was not a solo effort anyway. Oh yeah, my sole road race win wasn't exactly a road run, it was my school's hikathon up Penang Hill. and it was also shorn of all the top athletes in school that year.

My streak as a perpetual loser was supposed to end today in the 1500m, especially since I have had a relatively solid block of training behind me. But the stars conspired me, as it turns out, my advantage turned out to be my undoing, with my legs leaden and unable to respond to my teammates charge. Even the elements were against me. The storm clouds were already on the horizon this morning, but they chose to pour down in torrents just as we were lining up at the starting line. The first two laps were still okay, even though my legs were starting to get sore, but then it all started to fall apart. I found that I couldn't keep up even as my rivals were passing me, it was simply impossible to work my legs harder, my lungs wouldn't allow it. The damp air was hell for me, I felt like I was at a high altitude, and at one point I even thought my long dormant asthma was going to strike. Things were so bad that I considered doing something that has never occured to me, quit.

Enough of all the excuses, my rivals were too good, credit to them. If there was one saving grace in my dog of a day, I ran what I felt was my best 400m leg ever. It was totally unexpected, since it was on less than 30 minutes after my big tank out. I was on my school's 'B' team as the anchor, my very first time as anchor mind you, and the image of falling flat again was very much at the back of my mind. When it was my turn to carry the baton, my team were a few metres behind in last place, and lane one of the track was a big mess. I tried to keep close to the runners in front while I bide my time, all the while vowing to atone for my screw-up and half expecting my legs to fail. Surprisingly, my legs felt fine, I guess the 1500m was a good warm-up. Anyway, I managed to bridge the gap by the final corner, and was able to overtake the guy in front to grab third place.

Bronze is hardly a good consolation when you are gunning for 2 golds, but at least it will get me fired up. I just hope I will find redemption on Sunday...

Perspective

This post is a serious one. Should it sound funny, humourous and disrecpectful to the subject matter, I sincerely apologise.

My past post was about the passing of my running shoe. However, a recent passing of the human kind has certainly put my whining and momentary sadness in perspective.

A member of Chung Ling High School class of '05 was killed in a motor accident yesterday. In a sense he was the first among us to go. I feel this accident has given a sense of sobriety to temper the usual youthful feeling of invincibility among us young people. Death has suddenly become a possible fate that might befall us anytime, not some blurry image at the corner of the eye.

Even though I don't know the deceased personally, his death does have the impact I described on me. And from the comments I hear from my ex-schoolmates, it does impact them too. Even though I might not be back-slapping buddies with him, it is still surreal to hear of someone you have seen quite often for a long period of time (5 years) die.

I was originally going to devote today's post to the hikathon I took part in earlier today, but I was forced to take a hard look at my life. We are mortal man, anytime could be THE time. And if I am not taken by Death myself, someone else close might. This time it might be the turn of a passing acquiantance, but it might be a good friend next time, or even family. Many feel that it is not auspicious to contemplate the death of friends and family, but I emphatically disagree. Death is a real and distinct possibility nowadays, really to cast its dark shadow over us, to smother the light that is our lives.

Premature death is also very hard to take. Who knows what dreams the deceased had, dreams left unachieved. At least he won't be around to witness the shattered dreams. That is not something I can say though for his family, who have to face the anguish and disappointment.

Anyway, I want to end this by asking all the young people who are reading this to cherish your life, no matter how cliche that sounds.


R.I.P. Khoo Seng Kong, you will be in my prayers, and may your family find comfort and strength.

Sad news

While a new pair of running shoes make their appearances in the service of Peter Chong, another pair, or rather the right half of it, is about to give out.

My Reebok Racer-Xs were bought about 7 months ago. Since then they have been serving me faithfully, never complaining even when I dragged it through the mud during insane hikathon or when I was boiling it running on sun-baked tar roads.

I knew in my quest for some measure of running success, sacrifices had to be made. So in addition to training hard, my shoes also have to bear the brunt. They have been holding up well, and it was my hope that they would at least see it through under I am done with the Penang Bridge Run. This was agonisingly close to reality, with the run being a week away.

Alas, it was not to be. I guess the writing was on the wall. Since the past few weeks, the shoe has been feeling flimsy, and my right foot has been cramping up as a result. I put it down to the foam wearing down after hard long distance runs and thought nothing of it. I didn't even make the connection between the foot pain and the breakdown of my shoe until today.

It finally happened today, or rather I discovered it today, God knows how long the damage has been there. While inspecting my right shoe this afternoon, I noticed something amiss, the sole and the foamy part are not aligned. So i decided to prod. Turns out that the sole was partially separated. The worse thing is that without the sole to hold it in place, the relatively pliable foam has expanded making it virtually impossible to glue the sole back on right.

With one week to go, my busted shoe has left me in a quandary. I could not reasonably adapt to a new shoe in so short a time, not for such a killer distance anyway. So I will have to do the next best thing, 'loan' my brother's right shoe, since he has the exact same model of the same size and he doesn't use it much. There is however the small matter of actually getting his permission. Initial attempts at persuasion have proven futile. If push comes to shove though, I will have to errr, shove back, I am thanking my lucky stars that my brother is still smaller than me.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
In memory of my right Racer-X. You are gone but not forgotten, and I will do my best when the time comes, for you.

Fucking InDog'sAssAreans

Once upon a time, there was a little kingdom called Pearl Island. It was a nice and idyllic place, just partially polluted, with just a few open burnings here and there, but still, not too bad overall.

Its status of being just barely polluted was envied by many, and chief among those was the kingdom of InDog'sAssArea. This kingdom of foul, vile and uncouth people hatched an abominable plan. They developed a sophisticated way to deliver poisonous air to Pearl Island. Since some of the more retarded inhabitants of Pearl Island were already openly burning their shit, the InDog'sAssAreans decided to beat them at their own game, just that instead of the usual garbage, they used their rainforests. They reasoned that since they have shitloads of jungle, they might as well use them to fool the Islanders.

In their opinion, their diabolical plan was fool-proof, as it needs to be, since their kingdom is mostly inhabited by fools, and it was time to launch it. The benefits would be two-fold, pollute the life out of Pearl Island and mislead them that they were the cause. Part one of the plan worked, and the island was shrouded in smoke and ash, violently disrupting the lives of the islanders, especially struggling runners, who couldn't train because of the %@#$#$# haze. Part two however left much to be desired, since the InDog'sAssAreans neglected the fact that the islanders actually have enough intelligence to deduce that the amount of haze casted does not correspond to the total amount of shit produced by the island.

Beleaguered and with their backs to the wall, their government came up with a masterstroke, the 'act don't know' tactic, where they would deny all responsibility and act helpless, dropping excuses like it's out of their hands if their people decides to use the forest as their own oil reserve.

And with that, Pearl Island was left to their own devices. But there was really nothing that can be done, save heavenly intervention. While the haze continued its reign of terror, a young runner was slowly being tormented. He couldn't train, right around the time when he was down to compete in a few races. He too knew he was at the mercy of the lethal smog, so he prayed, and prayed, and prayed. His prayers went unanswered for a few days, but the skies did finally open up one day, but just a bit. The rain lasted barely 5 minutes, just enough to mock the young runner. Still the runner didn't give up hope, and continued praying. The next day, he got his wish. Raindrops the size of erasers divebombed through the air, right on the young runner, enough to make him soaked, as if to remind him to never have doubt, to never believe in the power of darkness.

At the end of the rain assault, the haze was pwned, for now...

Eat your heart out

On Friday, I had the pleasure of watching the latest 'Pirates of the Caribbean' sequel with my friends. The film involves the frantic search for a chest(the box, not the body part) containing Davy Jones' still beating heart. Apparently he decided to rip it out because he couldn't stand the pain of his unrequited love for a girl. Some big, bad mofo couldn't stand it, boo hoo. Hell, I go through it quite a lot, but you don't see me make a hole in my chest(the body part, not the box).

Anyway, it got me thinking. What exactly is worse than ripping the heart out, to me? No doubts about it, the answer came to me in a flash, deny me physical activity or exercise. For most of you non-exercise junkies, this may make you think, 'WTF?!', but it is my heroin. Sure, my heart will still be beating, but it will be beating for no purpose at all.

Recently, my nitpicking parents have been waging a campaign against me doing football tricks in the corridor of my apartment. They allege that I was causing a building shaking racket, and I was 'disturbing others', what 'others' they didn't specify exactly. As for causing an almighty din, I admit that there will be some noise when I lose control of the ball, but certainly it is no noisier than when my sis is practising her piano. Speaking of which, the 'music' she has to play is even more annoying, to the point that I want to do a Davy Jones and rip my brain out. My parents really can't say I am disrupting the peace, since I play way before 11pm.

Sometimes, I feel they are doing this just to spite me. Since being shown the red card by them, I feel like another piece is being ripped out of my already lacerated soul. It is how I express myself, along with running. I also feel they let my sis get away with polluting the environment with noise just because they actually have to pay for her lessons. I am becoming increasingly disillusioned with them, so much so I really believe they are a pair of hypocrites.