Happy New Year II

We did bump into a few people from school, but they were not our targets. From them though, Kenneth extricated information on the whereabouts of his classmates. Following the lead, we dove into the crowd again, hoping that pure serendipity will lead us to our quarry.

Just when we were about to set off on the hundredth time around Mount Gurney, we caught a break. As we took a breather to prep ourselves for the next sortie, Kenneth caught sight of his elusive mates. With that, our party increased though Kevin decided it was his turn to set out on his own to find his friends.

By this time, countdown time was coming. We evaded the crowds to get to the stage. Along the way, we had to traverse Uprockylands, a very bumpy strip of earth pocked with fallen tree trunks. It is understandable that people stumble and push, but I got annoyed with a man pushing a baby stroller. He kept forcing his way through hitting a few of my friends. When I was about to climb on to the pavement he kept bumping into me. I decided to tell him to be careful. I don't know what's his beef but he stared at me in an antagonistic way, so I repeated my warning again, and continued up the pavement. The guy seemed to be itching for a fight though, and grabbed my sleeve and pulled me down.

I can say this was the first time that I really got into an aggressive confrontation, and despite my knowledge of Aikido, I admit that my mind was temporarily at a blank. I did notice one thing though, that guy was alone and his stroller was even empty. On hindsight, I really find this very funny because I have a huge group of my schoolmates behind me who were a little stunned by this. Anyway, the guy berated me in an unknown language, and from his looks and semantics, I assumed he spoke in Japanese. I basically told him off and turned away. The arrogant prick displayed terrier-like qualities though and dragged my sleeve again, and kept on jabbering in his language. I generally do not have any beef with Japanese, but one thing I can not countenance is someone shouting at me in his native language expecting me to understand. This smacks of arrogance to the max. He then motioned me to take it outside. Knowing he's a tourist, I retorted with the corniest line ever, something to the tune of, 'this country has laws and police', and I told him he cannot do whatever he wants, complete with a sprinkling of an American accent. I hate to be querulous, but I am glad to say I got the last word in, shouting 'Fucking Japanese' as he turned away.

Shaken but not stirred, though I doubt he would end up the better if he did try to hit me, I went back to the small matter of ushering the new year with a few thousand other revellers. The momentous second passed by so fast, but it proved to be the start of our troubles. Despite being present at the past few countdowns I did not have the good sense to leave while I could. The next thing I knew, I was locked in a shoving match with, oh what, the very same number of people I was counting down with. Ironically, in stampedes like this it is good to be in the crush, which basically ensures you won't get ensnared in the other crush downstairs.

15 suffocating minutes later, we more or less made it out in one piece, though our group has been splintered. Thankfully Kenneth's classmates have arranged for a rendezvous point at a nearby hotel. The rest of the night, er morning, passed uneventfully, save for one last fisticuff. I don't know whether they were drunk or not, but 3 guys (or gals, I couldn't really tell) were really going at it, complete with haymakers.

Ah well, I guess all the signs point to a year full of aggro.

Happy New Year

After a long hiatus, part of it enforced, it feels good to be back, soaking in radiation while cogitating whether to use 'ubiquitous' or 'common'.

Anyway, what better way to usher in the new year than to write about the very second that 2006 gave way to 2007. While it is no way as momentous as Y2K, these moments before a new year is born will linger in the memory, for a few months at least anyway. Since my memory seems to take unauthorised shut downs every now and then, blogging is probably the best way to make good on what my previous sentence predicted.

Like nearly all fun-craving youth, I am particularly attracted to any party like atmosphere. That points to one very obvious locale, Gurney Drive. Since the past few years, it has been the site of one of the biggest New Year's countdowns in Penang. It should be enough to keep me awake.

Unfortunately, for some apparent reason unknown to us mere mortals, the mobile phone services always become dodgy just when there is a hint of festivity in the air. Consequently, I had difficulty contacting any of my friends to plan for the night. Just when I have resigned myself to escorting my mum and aunts around for the night though, I got my second break. I got a text from Kenneth, and so we are set to go.

With Kenneth's bro, Kevin tagging along, we set out on the trek to El Gurney, er, Gurney Drive. I had warned them beforehand that things could get a little too 'bubbly' and raucous at bashes like this, and to my chagrin was proven more than right. Upon arriving at Mount Gurney, ooops, Gurney Plaza, we were greeted by a sea of humanity wider than what Moses had to cross.

Our hardy party knuckled down and tried to force our way through. In spite of our best efforts though, we were finally barred by a row of massive barricades wrapped with barbed and electrified wire. Taking stock of our situation, we decided that a small pass on the other side of the bohemoth was our only hope of reaching the other side.

After taking the long detour, we were greeted by the sight of ... a massive battle. Though the white of soap suds have taken the place of the red of bloodshed, we did not doubt the lethality of this skermish. Saying a final battlecry and promising to meet on the other side, we dove in. Sharp reflexes that will make Spidey proud proved to be the best defence against bloodthirsty nemeses.

We survived this battlefield a few more times the remainder of the night as we walked to and fro to kill time. As time ticked towards 2007, Kenneth decided to look for more of our schoolmates. With the huge crowd, this seemed to be worse than looking for needles in a haystack...

To be continued...

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.