This is my story

2009-05-31T00:10:00.003+08:00

Welcome to the city that never sleeps. The day time is coloured with the rush of traffic, the rapid flow of people and the symphony of cell phone conversations, car horns and the buzzing of a busy street. The night time is glittered with street lights, neon signboards and the glow of numerous offices behind tinted windows in high-rise buildings.

This is a city that is constantly active. This is a city that is always moving. This is a city that is alive.

This is a city that lives within every one of us.

One day, without warning and out of a sudden, the power goes out. Without fuel to run electricity throughout the city, the lights died down and the illuminated glow from the city faded to black.

Unable to continue working, employees went home. Unable to drive safely in darkness, the drivers went home. Unable to partake in any form of activity in the city, everyone went home.

There was no light. But yet, the city was not in complete darkness. The moon and the stars, once masked by the radiance of city lights, shone more brightly that night, blanketing the city with a calm silver aura.

The citizens of the city, who spent years behind desks, computer monitors and their work, gazed up at the sky. Families huddled together, couples bundled together and children cuddled with their parents, as they all stood in the streets outside their homes and looked towards the heavens.

Even if it was for only a while, they with their loved ones finally had the chance to appreciate the view before them and to notice what they have been missing all this time.

2009-05-10T19:46:00.003+08:00

"Hurry, they are all waiting for you!" I hastily dried myself with a towel, put on my shirt before bursting out of the bathroom. My aunt nearby grabbed the towel and ruffled my wet hair. I struggled for her release then clumsily stumble in between my parents. A black forest cake with lighted candles was presented to me. My other relative wiped out her camera and attempted to seal the moment.

I was 8 back then. I still have that photo in my room. And I was smiling.

I sighed in frustration and closed my textbook after studying it for about an hour. I rubbed my eye as I made my way to the kitchen to get myself a glass of water. I saw my mother returning home with a white box. She placed the box onto the kitchen table and collected the matchbox off the overhead cupboard. "What's that?" I queried. She simply smiled, "Your birthday cake."

I was 14 back then. And I studied so much, I forgot about my birthday. But I still smiled before my birthday cake that day.

"Band practice starts at 10 you know. What are you doing in school so early?"

She grinned and shrugged. "Don't know..."

I raised an eyebrow as she giggled and turned away. I was in school early for Chinese remedial lesson, since the "O" Levels were near and I was on the brink of losing hope for my Chinese. After the lesson, 3 of the greatest friends whom I have ever met in my lifetime waited for me outside the classroom. One of them had a lighter in her hands, the other placing candles on a cake, and the last held onto a plastic knife and tissue papers.

I was 16 back then. And even till now, those 3 friends have always been making me smile when I need it the most. And yes, I was smiling when they sang me a birthday song.

I was crying as I walked home that night. Things haven't been going well at that point of time, and I was being pushed to my limits. It was a depressing feeling to have worked your hardest and yet still be unable to perform up to expectations. Somehow, I managed to drag myself back to school the next day. Halfway through the day, a classmate brought out a red box with a chocolate cake while my other classmates began to work on candle arrangement and the borrowing of a lighter from one of the canteen vendors. It was all laughs and smiles, and at that moment, I didn't feel so weak anymore.

I was 17 back then. Life was a little hard on me, and every day was a struggle. But my friends and classmates gave me that bit of strength I needed to just continue walking the "A" Level journey. That made me smile as they sang me a birthday song at the study benches in school.

It was getting late. But we still had to perfect the investiture to signify our proper stepping down from service. We all gathered around the piano to practice singing the council song which a few musically talented councilors composed and arranged. After singing it once and the comments for improvement were given, one of them signaled for another run through. Instead of the council song, they caught me by surprised and sang me a birthday song instead. I was then literally dragged onto the floor and got stacked upon by 4 or more of the council's heaviest and biggest guys.

I was 18 back then. I couldn't breathe when I was pinned down and I had no cake or candles to blow out. But I was smiling.

I was tired, but relieved that the day was over. After a whole day of training, anyone with the right state of mind would feel grateful to be able to finally rest. I knew the next day would be the same old mundane routine again, but at that point in time, all I wanted was a shower and an hour of doing nothing physical. I checked my cell phone and a flood of messages greeted me. It was probably one of the few times that I laughed a sincere laugh when I was in OCS.

I was 19 back then. I haven't blown my candles or even celebrated my birthday yet. But the torrent of birthday wishes from friends who awaited my book out made me smile. And they still do.

I don't remember all of it, but I do remember always smiling, even if it is just for a moment. After 19 years, I finally realized why I was always smiling, even if my life was bleak at that point in time.

I was given a present to unwrap on my 19th birthday. It was quite skillfully bundled together so I took a bit of time to free it open. Halfway through my operation, I suggested, "What if I just rip the wrapping paper apart instead of being so careful?"

One of my friends smiled. "No you won't, I know you won't. Maybe after I said that you will, but I don't think you will..." And the rest of them smiled along.

Birthdays isn't about making someone feel special on that particular day itself. It is about reminding that someone how special he or she means to everyone else. For the record, I managed to preserve the wrapping paper. And the gift revealed itself to be a white watch.

I guess I've lived a good teenage life.

To the people who still have the patience to read my musings, to my friends who remember I was born on this day, and to my loved ones who have granted me warmth.

Thank you.

I'm still a 19 year old for the next few days, but hey, Happy 20th Kenny. =)

2009-05-02T22:52:00.003+08:00

It was a warm night as I stood by the window. The humidity was like a blanket, wrapping around me and suffocating me. I probably just needed fresh air, coupled with being bored of having literally nothing interesting to do.

The chaos in my mind died down as I faced an opposing flat in front of my window. The buzz on the streets below contrasted with the silent night sky, with nothing but a lone crescent moon with a few stars keeping it company. It was a fitting imagery of my empty home comparing with my neighbours before me. It was like looking through a glass wall, into another world that I didn't belong to, or rather, no longer had a place in as much as I want to.

They were just so busy, walking around, doing the laundry and watching TV. They were so engrossed with their own activities that they failed to notice someone peering into a part of their private lives. Just then, something caught that someone's eye.

A girl was combing her long straight black hair. I have don’t understand why, but it was really entertaining to watch. All the other windows suddenly became of no interest to me, as my eyes fixated onto her. I have no idea who she is and at that distance between us, I could barely see her face. But surely, by living in such close proximity with each other, we could have crossed paths before. Perhaps we have taken the same bus home or waited in the same line to use the ATM.

All I knew about her then was that she owned a set of blue pajamas and a yellow towel, and she had beautiful long black hair with an orange comb to brush it in an (excuse me for using this word) inelegant manner (well, maybe she was in a rush) while standing before a mirror, every now and then pacing towards the window to fling out a strand caught in her comb. Still, her long hair bounced in an unusually cute way each time her comb crosses the length.

But that was all. I don't know her name or her age, where she's from or where she intends to go, her likes and dislikes or her hobbies and her hates. I don't know if she has a boyfriend or even a husband, or if she is interested in looking for one to begin with. I don't know her personality or her character, or the awkward moments she could possibly possess that I could use to poke fun at her, except for the way she combs her hair.

My 3 minutes of entertainment concluded with her walking into her house and turning off the lights in the room. After staring into the darkness for a few seconds, I followed suit, realizing that I was merely looking into a world that I no longer belonged to, that I was so forcefully separated and isolated from, that I so desired to return to, but no matter how much I beg, I am still faced with a glass wall.

2009-02-22T16:20:00.004+08:00

Life is imperfect.

But who am I to comment about life when I only lived a little less than 20 years, barely even qualified to consider myself a matured individual, or even an adult in any sense. But with these short 20 years to adulthood, the pretty picture painted to me as a child eventually begin to smudge into an ugly scene.

They call it the reality of life. It need not be taught to a child, because it'll eventually appear magically before any innocent little one. And it'll do so with much stealth that the child would hardly even notice that it's there. Or at least that's what happened to me.

And I was wondering if I under-dressed for the occasion. I looked around and saw a myriad of emotions, proud faces of relatives, anxious expressions of the organizers, the blank faces of the photographers, the confused look of preteens, and the gushing of a few of the female guest, all lay await for the bride and the groom to enter the glass pavilion in the middle of the sunny Sentosa island. A decorated golf buggy rolled in as my cousin and an elegant lady stepped off and entered the pavilion as they got greeted by the crowd's standing applause.

It was beautiful. It was like someone breathed life into a painter's work of art. But it is only the truly matured individuals who appreciate and understand how the painting came to life. It is only then when you begin to realize that every colour, every tone and every texture created in the painting tells of a story of the painter's hardship and hard work.

My uncle is down with a disease so uncommon and unusual, that the doctors don't even know what it is. What they do know, which he already did otherwise he wouldn't even bother visiting the doctor, was that his vision is fading. They told him about how rare this disease was, what could have been the cause and how baffled they were about it as much as he was. But they couldn't tell him how to cure it, or to at least stop it from getting worse.

I respect my uncle. As the eldest son of the family, he was the head, the backbone, as well as the ears for his siblings; more so especially when his mother passed away more than half a decade ago. It wasn't as if his own immediate family was perfect, but it didn't stop him and his wife from listening out his sibling's own problems with work, money and their own immediate families. My own parents went to him in times of their own trouble and I could tell my dad looked up to his elder brother. He told me once that my uncle was the only officer of the family when I enlisted in National Service. It was another reason why I chose to take the added responsibility.

But his eyes were failing him. His eyes were much needed for his retirement plan which included reading, watching sports on TV, playing golf and most importantly, watching his kids get married. Life robbed him from his well-deserved rest, but his son and his girlfriend was gracious enough to give him that one thing they still could. And they did.

Following custom and tradition, the bride and the groom always say a few words to thank the guest for their time and for their blessings in their marriage. When he got to the part about thanking his parents, for they made him who he is today, his eyes redden and his face flushed a little, as though trying to hold back a tear from ruining the joyous event.

His new wife, sensing the need to distract the attention of the crowd took her turn to talk to the guest. At the corner of my vision, I saw the graying eyes of my uncle turn a shade of red, as though reflecting those very eyes of his son. My own father, who wasn't laughing at the joke the bride just cracked, probably realized the same.

Life is imperfect. But because of the imperfection, it is beautiful.

2009-02-08T15:58:00.005+08:00

"Where to sir?" He queried energetically. With dark clouds and gray winds surrounding us, part of me wondered how he managed to preserve that little bit of sunshine in that grin of his. On the contrary, my candle was about to burn out its last ounce of light.

"Home..." I sighed, while struggling to maintain my weak smile. He raised his eyebrow as he looked towards my half-dead self. "Well, that's a nice place to go to isn't it?" He giggled.

The entire journey was about a short 30 minutes or less. We didn't say much though, except for the occasional asking of directions and me attempting to guide him with as much simplicity as possible.

"So that was your camp over there?" He questioned.

"That's it right there."

"What's it like?"

"It ain't pretty."

He laughed. And for the first time in what seem like ages, so did I. Well, if anyone spent 2 weeks at work being pushed to the limits of one's capacity, he would also understand what I mean.

"Well, it's the weekends you know. Time away from camp means time for some EPL... you do watch football right? No? Well, then maybe you could go find some girls, expand your investment portfolio of that sort if you know what I mean, ya?"

I felt like shit. But by some shear force that I couldn't understand even up till now, he could make shit smell good. And for the first time in what seems like ages too, I smiled a sincere smile.

He went on talking about random stuff, like how bad the weather was that day and where he just sent his family to before picking me up. It's hard for me to explain how, but not hearing anything related to work felt peaceful. It was as though listening to him talk with such friendliness and hospitality was akin to appreciating musical melodies that soothes my throbbing headache.

"Okay sir, we're here." He exclaimed, with that exact same smile he used to greet me. I smiled back, while fumbling with my wallet, handing out a ten dollar bill, then return to fumble with my wallet again.

"Its okay sir, just this will do." I looked at him with a slight hint of confusion, but he smiled back with such assurance and comfort that I just couldn't reject his kind gesture.

"Thank you." I said, as I got out and closed the door. Then, he did the one thing that I've never seen cab drivers do. He looked back, smiled and waved as he drove off into the distant. I barely knew him, and yet it was as though he was cheering with me that I've finally reached home.

2009-01-27T00:04:00.003+08:00

That look again. That look of disbelief.

It appears that my attempt in describing how a triangular square looks like was futile once again. I end the conversation quickly, but not too abruptly enough to be considered rude, before dismissing myself.

Why wouldn't anyone believe me?

But why would they? After all, a square in a triangular form defies logic. It's absurd that one should even consider the existence of such an object to be true and not part of some drunken imagination at work. A square to have a triangular feature is just wrong.

But I've seen it. I've seen it appear before me, formulated, created and presented itself as a triangular square. There's no other name I can seem to call it. But yet, with the annotation that I'm already out of my mind, how can I describe it in a way that people can understand me?

And so they don't. People just don't enjoy hearing things that they can't comprehend at first grasp, especially if they already had the mindset that triangular squares simply don't exist in the first place. My attempts to relay the image in my mind becomes noise to them and they brush it aside as insignificant.

Is that what I have become? Am I now insignificant after seeing something people deem crazy like a triangular square?

I never asked to bear witness to such a logic defying existence. I never wanted to see such a weird thing appear before me. I never thought that triangular squares are actually possible. But now that I have been enlightened, am I now insane to speak my mind that triangular squares are not out of the ordinary?

Why won't they believe me? Do they even listening to the words I say? Or am I simply brushed aside the moment I try to explain to them my observation of that strange shape?

All I want is someone to believe me that triangular squares do exist. All I want is someone to listen and understand how a triangular square look like. All I want is someone to trust me that I'm serious and not out of my mind. Is that really a lot to ask of?

You there, you believe the existence of a triangular square right?

See, that look again. That look of disbelief.

Looks like I'm alone on this one.

No one is going to believe me anyway.

2008-11-30T17:48:00.004+08:00

I am an officer cadet of OCS.

And even till now, I'm still unsure of my presence here. I wasn't even expecting to come here to begin with. And now, as I draw closer to the end, that question remains unanswered, drifting around within the sea of my thoughts.

To inspire myself onwards as an officer to be, I shall now state with reverence and respect, the officer's creed.

I am an officer of the Singapore Armed Forces.

Or at least I will be within the next few weeks, provided that nothing out of the ordinary happens to me. It is nothing to be proud of nor is it worth any bragging points of any sort. When I received the scroll which commanded me to "loyally and diligently discharge your duty and serve honourably at all times" I knew I have gotten myself into something more that I can bite.

My duty is to lead, to excel and to overcome.

And they made me into a trainee for 9 whole months to ensure that I know how to carry out that duty. For those 9 months, or 38 weeks to be exact, they threw whatever hell they wanted or could at me, in hope of molding me into the ideal soldier to serve the nation. 9 months felt like forever.

I lead my men by example. I answer for their training, morale, and discipline.

Unfortunately, these 9 months has given me doubt. On many nights, as I lay down to rest on the bed in the bunk or on the grounds of outfield, I question my place. Why am I here? How did I get myself into this? Am I even supposed to be where I am? Sometimes I even wonder if it is due to the result of an accident, or an administration screw up. Either way, I felt as though I don't really belong.

I must excel in everything I do. I serve with pride, honour and integrity.

So how do I do that when I have practically messed up so many times? I have failed my examinations, too laid back for my own good and barely made the cut. I am far from what they expect me to be, and now I do admit that I'm guilty for not meeting the mark. How do I perform when I can't even settle the minute things both in and out of camp? How do I do what I'm supposed to do when my personal life is in such a mess?

I will overcome adversities with courage, fortitude and determination.

With all the stories that I've heard, with all the incidents that I have seen with my own eyes, and with all the common trends that have been set, how do I do that when most surely, I'm already expected to fail miserably? How do I fight a battle when almost everyone looks upon me with the mindset that I and my kind are already doomed? Should I even attempt to struggle?

I dedicate my life to Singapore.

Or rather, for a moment, it feels as though my life isn't mine to own anymore.

2008-11-02T18:50:00.002+08:00

I call it the attack of the question marks. When they strike, they can be merciless and most of the time they can catch people off guard and by surprise. The moment you see the first sign of the assault you know you're as good as dead once you are unable to do anything about it; which is a problem really, considering the situation I was in.

The moment the newly formed couple before me confessed about their attachment to each other to the world, I saw the captain's hook appear directly in front of me, curved and sharply pointed towards the end, akin to a deadly weapon meant to take lives. Then it followed by a little dot that appeared in a comical "pop" right at the root of the hook.

I must admit, that one question mark caught me by surprise. In my disorientation, more similar looking shapes started to appear in mid air in the same manner, except all in different colours and sizes, but still with that cartoon-like "pop" sound. I was too perplexed to even react to the sudden mass of question mark onslaught. Without any sign of stopping, they continued "popping" out of nowhere spontaneously.

And then, to my utter confusion and beyond my logical comprehension, the people around us started to pop into question marks, just bigger in size as compared to those hanging in midair. Even the cars on the road nearby suddenly shape-shifted into a question mark, hovering along the road as they drove pass.

Soon, everything around us were question marks, or in the process of popping into one. The maelstrom of question mark transformation would make anyone stunned. At that point in time, I really didn't know how to react, whether to burst into fervor and tackle every question mark in sight or simply wait for them to simply pop back into their original state.

I was petrified.

"…Uh...?"

2008-09-21T19:08:00.000+08:00

There is a vast desert of eroded soil and cracked ground that spreads further than the eye can see. The clouds gather above, slowly but surely, covering every inch of the azure blue sky. A chilly gray wind blows, and then the rain begins to fall. Just as the first drop of water is about to hit the dry land, time slows down and eventually comes to a pause.

After so long, I only stand at the one third mark of my period of seclusion from the civilian world, barely even at the halfway point. They told me that time will pass by quickly, that before I knew it, everything will be over and whatever that has happened will become nothing but a page in history.

Unfortunately, time is relative to the observer. One second is simply a fraction of everyone's life, perhaps an insignificant portion of a person's everyday routine. But that little second that just passed by could mean the world to someone else. In a second, I could push someone away from an oncoming car, saving a life. If I had just one more second, I could write my final answer on my math paper during my A levels and maybe get that A grade. By wasting away that one second, the world economy could lose billions of dollars.

The land thirst for water, but just before the raindrop hits the ground, time freezes. I experience this strange feeling of time stopping before me but yet see the hands of the death-clock continue ticking my life away. I am unable to move, petrified in my tracks as though I have been turn to stone. However, the world around me continues to revolve and the wind continues to blow.

She hangs onto her semi-awaken state as she related to me the ups and downs and ticklish events of her first week. It was fun to listen and picture her story within my imagination. And maybe anticipate what things I may experience in the future.

She groans and laments on her usual daily routine, about the load and burden she had to carry every day. I just smiled and listen; occasionally laughing at the hilarious bits of the comedic things she used to do or suddenly did out of the blue.

She bounces around as we walked. She stroked her hair behind her ear, looking downwards with a little ginger smile on her lips. "I don't know how to say this." She didn't have to. I could have guessed, or rather, I already knew before she realized it.

The world moves, the planets orbits, the sun still shines as strong as ever. However, for this short period of time that feels like an eternity, I am no longer part of the world. The cars on the road rush by and seas of people pass by in every direction. And I simply stand immobilized amidst the crowd, unable to move, unable to do anything no matter how much I beg.

Time, relative to me, has come to a standstill. I neither mature nor remain at my current age. I'm motionless, but my eyes continue observing, watching the people around me continues moving on. And because the people around me continues to move while I stand motionless, every single second that used to be a mere fraction in my life, passes by me painfully.

I'm tired.

2008-07-27T17:54:00.007+08:00

Allow me to tell you a story. I first heard it about 15 years ago. Since then, the ending was never really the same each time I was reintroduced to it. So bear with me, as I try to narrate it in an attempt to find out the true ending. After all, it is only when you yourself make the journey, then you'll know for sure if there is a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

It is a household fable. Anyone who had at least a decent childhood would have heard at least one version of it. More typically, it would have been the one with the happy ending, thanks to Disney’s effort in introducing the tale to kids. It contained favourites like "Be Our Guest" and "Tale as Old as Time". Unfortunately, not every version of the story contained dancing teacups and singing candles. Not every rendition I heard had a clear protagonist and antagonist such that it gave a satisfying conclusion when the bad guy loses, or in some cases, dies.

Unless you are still in the dark, the story I'm about to tell is the "Beauty and the Beast". And sorry, my narration won't contain moving utensils.

Once upon a time, an orphan was left on a door step of a grand castle. The owner of that castle was an ugly beast. How the beast came to be was unknown. Perhaps an evil witch cast a curse upon him, or perhaps he was born to appear as such. But the beast raised the orphan, and she grew to become an elegant and beautiful lady. The beast loved her as if she were his own blood, his own daughter.

However, the beast was wary of the world outside the castle. Again, as to why he didn't like being out of the castle was unknown. Perhaps the villages shunned him due to his looks because he instilled fear in everyone, or maybe everyone despised him because he was too ugly. Or perhaps he just didn't like the corruption. Perhaps the witch's curse simply prevented him from leaving the castle.

Because of that, the beast was grateful to have finally found a companion, someone he could talk to, and someone he could love. She was the apple of his eye, and for once, he found peace from the torment of him being a beast. Unfortunately, as a result of that, the beast possessed her jealously and prevented her from leaving the castle gates. Because he feared that she might become corrupted by the evils of the world. Or worse still, because he feared that she might never return.

But one day, she left the castle. How or why she left was unknown as well. Some say that she sneaked out due to her curiosity of the happenings outside the castle. Others say she was running away from the beast. Some say she left on the beast's permission. Others say that the beast became severely sick and needed help.

Whatever the reason or her motivation, she left the castle, into the world that the beast didn't or couldn't step into. And she saw things that were new and fresh, and experienced things that were foreign in the castle. She was reborn into the world that she didn't know existed.

Now my fellow friends, this is where I am lost. They say that not every story needs to have an ending. However, I'm in desperate need to know what it is. It is like an itch I cannot scratch on my own, like a hole in my heart I need to fill, like a blank on a test paper I need to answer before submitting my script.

What happened after that? Did she return to the castle? Did she leave for good? Did she simply left the beast alone and never came back? Or did she remember the love and care the beast had for her?

Some versions said that she fell in love, leaving the beast to fade away or pass on. Or in some tragic cases, she brought her new lover or a mob of people back to slay the beast. Some others said that she came back too late and the beast died of a broken heart. According to Disney, the happy ending was that the beast turned into a prince.

But then again, this is my story. The other endings merely pointed towards possibility as to how my own version would end. And my attempt in narrating it to you is so that I myself may find the true ending.

If I had it my way, the beast would never have to die or be heartbroken in any way. But that would be unfair for Belle won't it? My dear friends who have so graciously joined me in my quest, I now hand the pen over to you.

What would the ending be?

2008-07-15T17:35:00.002+08:00

They said Nation Service is one of the best methods of National Education, because of the way people from different walks of life come together to train to become soldiers, regardless of their race or religion. That would be where you begin to learn more about the place you called home and the people who lives in it with you.

The last time I've been to OCS was more than 3 years ago. And at that time I didn't even care what SAFTI MI was about. On that day I came back, I said good bye to my parents and made my way to Warriors Hall. I couldn't stop asking myself how and why I got here.

I know a ton of people out there would do anything just to be in my shoes, to have the opportunity to become an SAF officer. But still, out of the many hundreds and thousands out there, why me? How did it become me? But the feeling wasn't too foreign. Ever since enlistment, I always felt a little alienated from the army life. I guess it just wasn't my cup of tea. Still until now, I'm clueless as to how I got here.

But how I ended up where I am doesn't really matter. I was more concerned about the 3 week confinement. I was akin to a prisoner, doomed to be isolated from the world as it passes by without my awareness and knowledge, before allowing my freedom to become confused and apprehensive of the sudden changes those 3 weeks can create.

It's amazing how many things can occur within 3 weeks. I feel lost already.

Seclusion really is a problem in the army. Become isolated long enough and you'll realise you will be talking on a whole new wave length different from everyone else no matter how hard you try. And it really isn't my choice to be separated to begin with, it happens because it just has to happen.

Then again, 3 weeks away from your life can actually make you learn a little bit about yourself.

I spend my time in camp one day at a time. Focus my efforts at the task at hand, prevent myself from thinking too much about exhaustion, and avoid my mind on dwelling on the thought of missing my loved ones. Somehow, I just manage to survive on that alone, even though it is getting harder and harder to just take things one step at a time. The step and the staircase itself can actually grow.

But that's where you learn how strong you can actually be.

OCS has this parent visit thing on the end of the second confinement week. I personally have never thought much about it, just my parents coming to camp and me asking them to bring some essential stuff I needed to survive the upcoming week like money and snacks. But as I bid them goodbye and returned to my bunk, my eyes started to water.

They were wrong about how we were supposed to learn about the people around us in the army. The reason why National Service is one of the best methods of National Education is because it takes you away from your life. You then begin to realise the things you have taken for granted, makes you miss your friends and family, then suddenly make you aware about how much your life and your home actually means to you.

After all, it is when things are gone when you start to appreciate its true value.

2008-07-05T00:04:00.002+08:00

4 to 5 years ago, there was a town. Back then the town was immoral, corrupted with lawlessness and crime, defiled as a God forsaken place as chaos and evil was rampant throughout the place. It was The Sin City.

One fine day, without expectation or warning, a superhero came. This superhero had a strong sense of justice, humility and compassion. The superhero saw the desolate state the town was at, and knew something has to be done. With the superhero's powers, backed by an unwavering conscious of right and wrong, the superhero did what no other townsmen had done before. The hero brought peace to the land.

And for a moment, the town was freed from evil-doers and criminals. For a period of time, the town was liberated from dark and gloomy skies, and there was sunshine once again in a very long time. For once, the town had tranquility and was at peace.

But with great humility, the superhero claimed no credit, nor realized the true extent of how much of a favor the superhero had done for the town. The town however, knew that they owed a great debt to the superhero for finally able to restore law and order to the once hopeless place. After the last criminal was brought to justice, the superhero lingered around the town, scanning for petty crimes in an attempt to cleanse the town from the tiniest bit of evil.

The town was at peace, for they could once again live happy lives without worry of something bad happening to them while walking along the streets. For they knew, the superhero will always be there to come to their rescue, no matter how small the trouble may be.

Yes, the superhero even saved little cats from trees and rescued runaway kites for the little kids. The town was glad, that they could depend on someone to help them. And help them the hero did, for whenever there was an invading country or a natural disaster, the superhero always lent a helping hand.

And when a proper organization was formed to maintain that law and order brought by the superhero, the town suddenly began to see less and less of the hero. Until one day, the superhero disappeared.

The organization didn't have superpowers, thus had a bit of trouble controlling crime. Though not as rampant as before, evil-doers started to become bolder due to the disappearance of the superhero. The town began to slowly fall back to its once sorry state, as crime rates began to rise steadily, with corruption even beginning to invade into the organization.

The townsmen all began to cry out in anguish, for they needed their superhero, for they are at lost at exactly what they should do.

What happens if your superhero moves town? Why did the superhero go away and leave the town? Could it be that the hero lost hope in helping the town?

Why did she leave me behind?

2008-06-15T00:48:00.004+08:00

The world is round.

At least we choose to describe it as such. Anyone who have been through education or read up a little can tell that the world is far from being a perfect sphere. It is in fact slightly oval and its surfaces aren't smoothly curved enough to qualify as round.

But to keep things simple and to throw away all the complexities, we just say that its round.

It is kind of the same as everything I have been addressing in life in general and I do feel rather guilty of it; to know all the complications my actions may cause, or to be aware of the end result of the things happening around me, but yet choose to keep things simple and throw away all thoughts of doubt. Life is after all a game and a gamble at the same time.

But well, closing my eyes and counting to ten don't seem to work as effective as it did ten years ago when I was younger.

We all knew the dangers of Brunei jungle training, but we hoped that those dangers were merely an illusion and not a reality. And when the unfortunate and sudden news hit us that faithful day, I was like a scientist lost in a fail experiment, wondering what in the world went wrong. My mind simply couldn't come to terms with a friend leaving us so suddenly. Or rather, my heart just didn't want to believe it.

If only the world could just stay round and not be so difficult to understand. Why did it have to happen?

In every life, there is death. In every beginning, there is an end. With every sunrise, there will be a sunset. The world is after all, slightly round. All that at least I can still grasp a little, though at times, I don't really appreciate the sad facts of life. However, there are things in life you cannot choose, how you feel. The world still spins, whether it is round or not, whether one likes it or not.

And as it spins, time moves on, and cycle of life continues to revolve. Things continue to happen, events continue to unfold, and people continue to come and go. The world is oval and cruel, because no matter how hard something is earned, nurtured or preserved, it can be easily taken away. Friends and family, no matter how tight we are together, are not spared.

It may be an inevitable fate for our closest bonds to just break away no matter how much we don't want it to happen. And because the world spins, time presses on, and things will happen, whether they are in our control or not.

But whatever will be, will be, and tomorrow is for tomorrow to occur. As for now, to keep things simple, to keep things easy to understand, and to keep away all the complexities, complications and whatever difficulties and pessimism, the world is round. You must trust me in this. Our close ties will remain strong and continue to grow stronger.

Really, the world is round. If you don't believe me, ask around.

2008-05-24T00:14:00.001+08:00

“Put a candle on your cake for every smile you helped create.”

I wonder if that number can match my age. This post entry came late, because I never really had the free time anyway.

Without realizing it, I’m now a year older, at an age where I’m supposedly more mature, wiser and stronger than I was a year ago. Perhaps I was just more concerned about surviving the army life and doing everything in my power to keep my weekends saved, just so that I can see my loved ones again.

But I truly am blessed. Looking back from my previous birthday till now, I have lived a purposeful and colourful story. One filled with sadness and joy, anger and tranquility, surprises and disappointments. Indeed, how can I ask for more?

Maybe having another year just like it would be nice.

In the span of 365 days, I have stepped down from the students’ council, fought the “A” Level monster, dressed up for prom, touched Malaysia soil and spent the whole post “A” Level holiday with a close bunch of friends, shaved my head for National Service, cried on my “A” Level result slip, unexpectedly get thrown into Officer Cadet School and into the Air Force and into a random spot in a local university.

Perhaps all that is missing is a girl to call my own, but well, that can wait for now.

Although I must say, becoming 19 feels different from becoming 18. For instance, I actually feel myself becoming older. It’s like my head finally realizes that I’m no longer a child, and I need to look out for myself, make choices in life and bear the inevitable consequence of every action I take. Some things don’t change though, like how it sucks to grow old.

Life as it is now is going well for me. Technically speaking, the only thing I worry for is if my next weekend is going to be burnt or not. Other than that, everything else seems right in place. Troubles and obstacles are usually simply short term or insignificant compared to the burden I carried just a year ago. My shoulders just feel lighter than before. Maybe it’s because of all the pushups they make me do.

Whatever it is, I hope the next year would be good, that everything will go smoothly in the most perfect manner possible.

Happy 19th Kenneth.

2008-03-23T22:25:00.000+08:00

He isn't really the type whom I'll go to whenever I need to spill out my burdens. It isn't as though I couldn't trust him nor was it that he couldn't understand. On the contrary, he is the type I'll usually go to when I'm troubled.

I still remember how I would always struggle to get pass day after day in junior college, because I could never meet up to both my teacher's and my own expectations, whether it was test results or assignments. If I were a girl, I would probably just confine myself to someone and cry my heart out to make everything feel okay again. But guys tend to do things a little differently.

"Eh got time, play basketball?" I asked, giving the please-say-yes-but-I'm-not-forcing look.

He just smiled and agreed.

I'm not sure if he noticed, but those 30 minutes on the court was enough to eliminate or at least reduce the stress and pressure I'm faced with. And he was always there with me, giving me company while I cry my heart out the "guy's way".

He's height and lean built makes him naturally good in basketball, not to mention he's flexibility and agility. And he trains by carrying a bag that is so heavy that it literally tears itself under the weight. Well, he simply just brings all the lecture notes that were given to us, whether we had a lesson on it or not. The training paid off I guess, given that he was posted to become a commando.

But the tough guy had a soft spot too. I remember him telling me about how he cried in the shower when he was punished to do guard duty for a mistake he made in camp, meaning him being confined in camp and being away from his loved ones for a longer time. I cried my share in my own army camp too, so I guess our sentiments are the same.

But he's strong, and I know that whether rain or shine, he will come out somehow unscathed. That's just the way he is.

**********

It was Chinese lesson. And he was right beside me. Having sitting beside him countless times, I knew of his little habit. He took out his phone, looked deep into it. And then he felt the tips of his hair, touching it up a little here and there.

The teacher was nonchalant, as though she has seen him do it several times. Well, actually, she probably had.

"Okay, very handsome already. Come, how to do this question?" She voiced in his direction.

On impulse, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked at her, a little stunned as he smiled sheepishly while the rest of us giggled.

He also has the tendency to laugh at the most ridiculous of things. There was once we were standing around outside Tampines mall, gathering around while talking and laughing. Then someone suddenly asked, "Hey, why we standing? We should sit down instead."

"Nah, I prefer to stand." I replied instantly.

And the next instant, he's grin grew slowly and steady, until he burst out in laughter. While trying to figure out what tickled his insides, I realized it was because of what I said.

Apart from his comedic side, he's a man full of dedication on the inside as well. I remember running the 2.4km with him. He fought hard, pushing himself to the limit as I did my part in pushing him too. He managed to improve his timing by more than a minute.

But he's smile, or grin is usually what keeps me and maybe him too, going. It reminds me of the brighter side of life and for a second forget about the useless worries I trouble myself with.

**********

We stood outside the barber shop. I wasn't sure about him, but for a split second, I hesitated. But he was there, and we drew strength from each other to just take that one step forward. It's like old times really, when for some reason, we always go through the deepest shit together.

We were separated by a few chairs as we embraced ourselves for the barber to do his magic. It was then when I was suddenly reminded of the times when we walked side by side. We worked hard to achieve our Project Work grades, we kept each other company at night during our Leadership Training Camp, and we were comrades during our "A" levels fight. It was quite a coincidence that we enlisted into the National Service on the same day. So much so that it was more of an irony.

But that's what we are, brothers in a sense, working together, laughing together, looking out for each other. He is the kind of friend who would understand my heart songs, even if everyone else can't be bothered about it, or can't comprehend it's melodies at all. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because we have been through so much together or if it's by another sheer coincidence.

There was one night in camp when he called me, allowing me to realize that we could actually see each other from the window. I must have been watching way too many movies, because at that moment, it felt as though we were like brothers looking at each other, caught on opposite sides of a war. Well, it was just his company that disliked my company, and my company expressed the exact same love in return.

We ranted out our days to each other as I nearly fell out of the window while I attempted to catch a glimpse of the pants he told me about hanging below my bunk. It's hard to point out exactly what, but we do share many things in common. There are just some people out there you can really click with.

I think that's what they call chemistry?

**********

There's something about him that I really admire. I don't show it out, but I really do look up to him from afar. It isn't about his excellent triple A grades, although personally, I don't mind having a taste of his report card. But I do admire his trait of selflessness, which is something I severely lack. I'm probably just too self-centered and self-obsessed for my own good.

I remember back in school, I was perhaps the only few students who didn't rush to the teachers for consultation periods. Because I relied extremely heavily on him, and my questions were basic enough for him to explain every detail to me so that I'll understand completely. Well, probably because I really suck at my subjects, which is why my questions were basic. But because of his willingness and patience to help, it boosted my confidence and moral level to face the ultimate A levels which I once thought was a goner for me.

He can also be depended on during rainy days, both literally and metaphorically. He is, without fail, always armed with an umbrella, a full water bottle and a pack of tissue. It is kind of embarrassing for me to remember him like this, but such a trait is something we really lack, which makes him unique in a way.

His calmness and level-headedness is something I look up to as well. He does get rowdy and high at times just like everyone of us, but never too extreme. And whenever I see myself doing something that he normally wouldn't do, I'll know when I need to let myself settle down.

Seriously speaking though, who knows where I'll end up or what will become of me without him around.

**********

There's one thing about him that makes him, him. He may appear to be quiet to a stranger, somehow a little withdrawn from his surroundings, but he does it with a smile. On the contrary, to one who knows who he is, his presence can be felt from a mile.

He just has this infectious abundant energy within him that he radiates out wherever he is. There was really never a dull moment with him around, and it isn't because he does stupid things. Well, occasionally that energy does cause him to do crazy stuff here and there, but nothing too extreme. But that energy of his can brighten up and gray day I have in school, and really bring laughter to my cheeks, even if I didn't have to mood to smile at all.

He's really intelligent too, which is something teachers just don't really see. Perhaps they just recognize hard work and effort more. But even with his happy-go-lucky attitude, he still manages to score really well in exams, even though he hardy studies for it and often complain after a paper that he'll flunk it. It's quite comedic really, when you actually see the whole picture in action.

For my case, I usually dislike talking about the exam after my papers. That's where he becomes my best friend, because he usually doesn't care about them in the first place. Or at least he is gracious enough to appear that way. And that's where his energy will come into play, encouraging me to continue on and just forget about the past. Although I tend to sometimes think that the teachers don't really like the idea of constantly "forgetting about the past" kind of thinking. It just makes you forget about the mistakes you made and allows you to repeat them in the future I guess.

Whatever it is, he is responsible for making me survive my 2 years of junior college. He really is my pillar of strength, where he is one of the few who recognizes the drain the students' council had on me, motivating me to stay strong even in the most desperate of times.

I do admire his grin, that look that just says that he'll take on anything in the world because he just knows that he'll survive it and emerge stronger. It is that confidence in him that I look up to.

**********

It was another math lesson in school. My sitting partner miraculously forgot to bring his math textbook even though he throws everything he owns under his table or in his locker. Naturally, we shared my textbook. But the math lesson was long and dull, coupled with it being after recess and a humid afternoon; perfect for sleeping. And then, he rested his head on his hand and knocked off while pretending to look downwards at the textbook.

Mischievously, I pulled the textbook away from him, making him appear as though he was looking down at his empty table. I grinned to control my laughter as the teacher continued with her lesson. Few minutes later, sensing something was wrong; he awoke and glared at me.

"Sabo..." I just laughed as I pushed the book back between us.

Or how's this, one group of us were walking back home after our night lesson in school. The lesson ended early, so we played basketball until the school had to close. Along the way, there were pull-up bars and being him, he attempted to do pull-ups. One of us went forth while he was hanging on the bar and poked him at his sides. Provoked, he gave chase and did the unbelievably stupidest thing ever.

He ran right into 2 lengths of chain.

One of the chains broke as he literally flew in mid-air and landed on the road. We thought he had fainted from the fall since he was motionless for 5 seconds. But when he regained his composure on his feet, we all burst out in laughter. We laughed even louder when we saw the wound across his torso made by his collision with the metal chain. 3 years later, it still cracks me up.

Or how about this, we were in the lecture theater having a house meeting. We were to elect people from the house to be house committee members. Knowing what a slacker he can be and for the sake of a good laugh, I mischievously (again) gave his name. And thus, he was nominated and all nominees needed to give a speech of some sort to gather votes.

He said the strangest thing possible, "I should be in the house committee, because.... I have a dream..."

Together with his low baritone voice, it was a hilarious scene. Nevertheless, because of my prank, he got into the house committee.

Even though I've known him for more than 4 years, it still brings a certain sense of joy in annoying him or getting him in the weirdest of situations. His reaction just makes it comedic. But behind all the clowning, he really is one of the nicest people I've come to know.

**********

Disclaimer: I know this post came late, but I never really had the time, and this entry literally took a long time for me to write. I've tried to write this entry as honest as I could to the best of my ability. I apologize if I've offended anyone in any way, it is purely unintentional.

And now, I'll be gone for 3 weeks in SAFTI. With the publication of this post, my to-do list is completed.

I guess I'll see you soon.

2008-03-19T23:32:00.002+08:00

There are things in life you cannot choose, how you feel. No matter how much you want it to happen, or how much you dread it from happening, shit still happens. Even with his domination of the world and, to some extent, time with the means of science and technology, man has yet to control his own destiny.

Some say that destiny itself is absolute. Meaning that any choice or free will that is presented to an individual is simply an illusion. In other words, no matter what one does, whether in an attempt to change his own destiny or not, his fate has already been sealed even before his own existence.

Metaphorically speaking, it simple means we are all moving in a straight line, like a forked lightning. The branches only appear when we look back at the choices we made and try to answer all the "What ifs".

What if I actually studied harder, would it have ended up better? Then again, lightning bolts don't usually move in a straight line.

The trouble with Singapore is the tropical weather. One thunderstorm follows the next with hardly any end in sight. When the sun shines, it shines with glory and beauty, only to be covered away with dark looming clouds. I thought I have already seen the darkest of days when my A levels ended. I was wrong. There's a storm coming. And I don't think I'm equipped enough to protect myself from it. Then again, one still has the right to hope and belief.

"Are you okay?"

I was awakened from my deep thoughts, or rather, at that point in time, my confusion. "Are you okay?" she asked again. I blinked my eyes for a few seconds to clear my vision from my tears. Wait a minute, I was crying?

I stood up from my squatting corner and looked at her; a middle-aged woman, probably a teacher whom I've never met during my 2 years in college. I smiled, nodded my head and said thanks before moving back into the hall.

Walking amidst the cries of joy and tears of anguish, I removed my cap, shuffled my nearly bald head before adjusting my cap back, while I observed the mixture of emotions around me. Some things in life you just cannot choose, how you feel. It happens because, well, it has to happen.

So, what am I going to do now? What the hell am I going to do now? All I want is just some assurance that my future was going to be fine, is that so much to ask?

2008-01-27T16:32:00.000+08:00

What is love?

Philosophers and song writers spent decades, even centuries, trying to describe its essence and existence as much as possible in words, but still find themselves not doing enough justice. What more I, a mere 18 year old, slowly but surely losing touch with the world around me as I serve my national service.

But what is love?

My parents were in Tekong to see me off. It was a stupid move really; they shouldn't have invited the parents over. It's like bringing a part of home with you and forcefully separates you from it when the time comes. It was kind of sad when I hugged my parents good-bye. It wasn't because I wasn't going to see them again. But rather, that hug came from someone who would never be back again. Because I knew as well as they that I was going to change into someone of a completely different nature, and I would never be the same again. It was like the small kid in me was never going to see my parents again, because the kid was going to fade away. I admit almost crying while hugging my parents.

But that's love isn't? When you are going to be separated and yet it hurts in the most unusual way unlike any physical pain one has ever been through.

In my bunk, there was this guy who slept directly next to me. As much as I dread national service, he probably hated it a lot more. You could just tell he's heart was somewhere far off, even though he was all smiles and cursing vulgarities in the air with much joy. He left something much more behind in the mainland. One night, he just came to me.

"Hey Kenneth, you got a minute?"

"Sure, what's up?" He's comedic face turned serious, almost sad even.

"There's this girl. I'm good friends with her, but we aren’t girlfriend boyfriend yet. Then she suddenly fell for this other guy who is like this total jerk. I'm like so pissed off! Here I am stuck in Tekong and I can't even go back to Singapore and do anything about it!" Well, not the exact words he said, but minus all the vulgarities, it should roughly be like that.

One day later, he suddenly requested for an immediate medical review and downgraded his medical statues so he could return to Singapore and serve his national service at a later date. Could this be love? That you are willing to do anything just so you can make sure your love ones are safe from harm, even if it means faking your own capabilities just to gain an opportunity.

In my bunk, there was this other guy who admitted that he liked someone from the mainland during our small talks after a whole day of training. We were all rowdy and high, which was completely normal, considering it was a room full of army guys. We tried to convince him to tell her how he felt and everything, but he played the role of the really shy guy.

We tried everything from calling him a coward to telling him that there was nothing to lose, but he still wouldn't dare to advance onto the next step. Perhaps because it is love, that one person alone was enough to crumble your strong front and make you weak and jumpy on the insides, without even doing or saying anything at all.

But what exactly is love?

For me, I survived the tough days by calling back home and my friends every single day, ensured that they heard from me daily and made sure they knew I was still alive. I must admit, I really missed home during my 2 weeks. It doesn't help that commercial airplanes and Changi Airport can be seen from Tekong, it just makes me think about home even more. I was probably one of the few looking forward to booking out of Tekong, even if my freedom was merely temporary.

I was tired, tormented and I really needed sleep as I alight the bus that dropped all of us at Pasir Ris Interchange. My muscles ache, my bags were heavy and my mind was a blur, literally. I made my way towards the Bubble Tea shop while feeling a sense of loneliness. I knew I was on mainland Singapore, but it doesn't feel like home.

At least not yet.

And then, there they were, the very people I phoned during my 2 weeks in hell. They ran towards me as they saw me, calling out my name as though they haven't seen me in years. That was when I knew, I was home. I was moved to tears, but I was just too happy to cry.

This is love. When I know that people would be waiting for me with open arms, welcoming me home with warmth and smiles; when I know that they are supporting me from behind even if I won't be able to see them for a long period of time; when I know that they will always be there for me when I need it the most, whether I myself realize it or not.

Love feels so good, it hurts.

2008-01-10T19:04:00.000+08:00

I have no idea how, but a game was created.

"Shu Ting! You know you eat very slow?"

I have no idea why, but the game was fun.

"Shu Ting! You very picky with food you know, chili don't eat, carrot don't eat, milk don't drink."

And then she'll become red and explodes in front of all of us. "I don't like your friend! He every time bully me one lor! ..." and she'll ramble on towards the poor soul sitting next to her, who was innocent from the very beginning.

"Shss! Talk softer... be more feminine can..." We hushed her with smiles of triumph on our faces. She blushes even more and keeps quiet almost immediately. We laugh with glee while she looks down at her food, defeated. But she smiles again, knowing that we were all just fooling around.

For some unknown reason, she's just that incredibly fun and easy to make fun of. But under that trait of hers, lies someone of a caring heart. Though blur at times, she notices the presence of everyone and helps them whenever needed, with a smile that comes from the heart.

"Nah, next time don't ask me help you keep your jacket can? Oh, and your umbrella!"

“No, no, you can keep it.." I stammered as I hurried to get away.

"Oi! Your umbrella! I don't want to keep your umbrella!"

I did say she was helpful. I think my umbrella is still somewhere in her house...

**********

"Hello!" She called.
"Hello!" I replied.

"Hello!" "Hello!" "Hello!" "Hello!" "Hello!" "Hello!" "Hello!" "Hello!" "Hello!" And we would go on for the next 2 minutes or so.

I could tell she was bored. "You’re bored."

"Ya, got nothing to do."

She has a job with nothing to do. I want that. And within the next 10 minutes, she recited to me about how she really had nothing to do and how bored she was and how she didn't like eating lunch alone over the phone. Well, at least I had free-incoming.

So as her "father", I did her the favour of having lunch with her, over the phone. She had fish and mash potato, I had instant noodles.

But that's Iris, she has her cute ways like that. Even after more than 4 long years, with us seeing each other almost every day due to our many affiliations like being in the same CCA, class and church, our friendship still feels as fresh as ever.

"Have you finished your fish?" "Halfway..." It was a very large fish I guess, so I had to keep her company while she ate.

But the little girl isn't spared from life's battles. I still recalled her collapsing in front of me. It's tough when someone you rely on for strength suddenly needs strength. It's difficult to figure out how you are going to supply it. All I could do was be near her and watch. Thinking back about it, it makes me feel almost guilty.

But still, we have seen each other so much that it will be weird for me to remain out of contact with each other, even if it's just temporary. She's just the kind of friend who will never abandon me when everything else in my life fails.

"Okay, I go to work le..."

I chuckled and said my goodbye before hanging up the phone. My appetite suddenly went away.

**********

We were having our project presentation rehearsal, and it was her turn. We all scrutinized her every action and word from her lips, scanning her for any possible error she made or could have made.

When she was done, she breathed in, and then fired her anxiety away.

"Aiya! I very scared! I nearly cannot remember my lines! If during presentation like that how?!..."

We were now, instead of looking at her for errors, looking at her for an "off" switch. "Relax, you did fine. You just need keep calm and not speak too fast." I smiled from my seat, knowing that the A-grade would be in our grasp as our project leader briefed us.

But Lay Shen has always been like this, or Li Xian as I always call her. Scared of many things over nothing, anxious about many things over nothing, and worried over many things over nothing. Although I must admit, that extreme sense of urgency is something I do admire. Add that to her not yet suffering from a heart attack.

I do remember telling her about the "Singapore Legend" when she asked for directions to somewhere.

"You know the Singapore Legend? You stand at the roadside, wave your hand, and then this car will come to you..."

"Ya Ya! I know! Then tell him where you going then run away from the car right right?!" She finished my story in a very irritated and hurried tone, while the both of us moved our legs excitably and impatiently, showing our anxiety in the middle of the new Cathay.

I do admit one more thing, that it is rather entertaining to watch her like that at times.

**********

"Ee-yer!"

I don't like her.

"Ee-yer!"

Just because I accidentally said ee-yer in a very abnormal tone like eons ago, she still finds it amusing to irritate me with it.

"Ee-yer!"

"Can you like stop that?" I exclaimed as I pushed her head over and over again to make her stop. She nearly bumped into someone as she regained her composure and whacked me on the back. "You idiot, nearly hit him you know!"

I laughed as she continued hitting, and then resuming her "ee-yer" irritation at me.

But that's just the fun side of Hui Ling. Other times, she's really really fierce. "I tell you already, you must solve this question like that like that like that! Then you never listen to me!"

"Okay okay... Hui Ling Jie Jie... don't scold me..."

"Rawr!" And then, she'll crack up her expression and laugh, and saying "Ee-yer" to me all over again. If not, she'll poke me in the sides, because she knows that it tickles me, or say some funny thing to irritate me.

But well, it is that fun side of her that makes her Hui Ling. That, plus the occasional "big sister" or "jie jie" moments.

Oh, and did I mention she really loves my piano. There was once we were studying at my home, and the moment the last of my family members went out, she walked over to the piano, opened it, and then, that was it. We all wasted the afternoon and evening, not mugging like we were supposed to.

I think she'll probably scold me again if she reads this, until she is reminded of the spastic things I am capable of.

**********

The best way to comfort someone is not offering words of encouragement and tell him he'll be fine. Of course he knows he'll be fine. He is after all a strong man.

The best way to comfort someone is to scream with him.

"AH! I don't want to go le! Damn scared! The stupid thing is too tall!"

And then she'll go, "Ah! Don't say le! The more you panic the more I panic also!"

And the rest will go, "Relax, very fast it'll be over le, just scream out during the thing then you won't feel scared."

And we will both dance in hysteria for the next half an hour while waiting for our turn to take the Space Shot in Genting. And then after that, we'll both scream our lungs out with joy as we take the other not-so-scary-but-still-got-kick rides.

"Okay, its time to scream."

"AH!" Then everyone around us stares as though we have gone bonkers. The ride hasn't even started.

I've always known, but it is still rather interesting to watch. Yvonne Low, though appearing to be the most mature of the girls in the class, or at least to me, is a thrill-seeker. Maybe because she's standing next to someone who talks "way too loudly", that’s why she appears to be comparatively more, decent. But still, there is some big sister air to her.

She does also remind me our math teacher.

"Eh Yvonne, you know you wear like that to work, remind me of someone I've seen before."

"No, wait, don't tell me. I don't want to know."

Seriously, they are related somehow. They just don't know it yet. And of course, how can I forget her favourite colour. Her glasses, her bag, and even her hair.

"Eh Ang-moh."

"Why you call me Ang-moh?"

"Your hair Ang wad. I heard Ang-mohs got a lot of money one, so you treating us tonight right?"

"Rubbish!"

I feel almost guilty for wearing her favourite colour during prom, otherwise she will be the one in red.

**********

"You! You cannot drink coffee!"

"Doctor say drink once a week is okay."

"No! Doctor says you cannot drink coffee means you cannot drink coffee!" I pulled the cup away from her just before she sips the poison.

She grumbles away as she settles for a non-coffee beverage. "Later I go home I drink all the coffee I want!" she giggled as I frowned at her.

Yvonne Ng appears to me more like a kid. Not really a wonder actually, considering her small frame that matches up with a primary school student and her really bad sense of direction. It still brings me shivers when I remember her giving directions over the phone. "Follow the road you feel is correct." And we'll all go waving and exclaiming "No!" towards her.

There was once we were at Bugis MRT walking towards Sim Lim Square when she suddenly exclaimed, "You mean we walking all the way to Jurong?!"

It's even more hilarious when she goes, "Oh I can bring you around Chinatown. I've been there a lot of times!" And the rest of her project group members start shaking their heads and waving their hands.

And for some reason, Yvonne has an affinity to ... people-of-different-skin-colour. Its funny to see her rant about her encounter in the presence of ... those kind of people. "Wha you know hor, I took the MRT home got a lot of," She looks around. "That kind of people! I scared they follow me home eh!"

Now, if only can get her to stop drinking coffee. What if I said coffee attracts ... that-kind-of-people?

**********

Disclaimer: And this is my return farewell gift. Hopefully this is a note positive enough for me to end here before I enter the jungle. I'll do the guys part after I'm back, I'll make sure of it.

I have made everything as factual as I possibly could while remembering nitty gritty events and experiences we have all went through. So if I have offended anyone or said anything wrong, it is all purely by accident and unintentional.

And now, goodbye. I'll see you soon.

2008-01-09T23:54:00.000+08:00

I refuse to end my blog on a negative note before I go into the jungle for the next 2 weeks. It's just 2 weeks! 2 weeks will pass by quickly before we all know it. And during these 2 weeks I'll learn new things, have fun and get paid. It will be like going on a holiday on an island not too far from the mainland. And after these 2 weeks I will go out on the weekends with the usual gang and laugh away my fatigue and go in recharged to fight a new week on that same war-torn land.

I'll see all of you soon, so you better remember me or I'll find you personally if I have to.

=)

2008-01-08T21:14:00.000+08:00

Someone once told me that as we age, time travels relatively faster because one second becomes a smaller fraction of our entire lifetime. Someone else once told me that time is relative to the observer; ignore it and it will be gone without your realization. Another said to me that time appears to have passed by quickly because we look back at the many things that have happened to us and relive those memories within a few seconds in our minds. Thus we become confused as to how those few seconds actually took years to accumulate.

My mind is still wondering why I'm no longer wearing a school uniform.

It's a bittersweet feeling actually. One part of me yearns to go back to school. Those were the days where all I needed to do was study. No need to worry about getting married, or finding a job, or about battling the harsh conditions of the outside world. The other part of me however constantly reminds myself that to study was quite a heavy burden I had to carry for the last 12 years of my life. And to go through all that "A" level nonsense again is nightmarish.

Still, it does feel rather out of place to see students everywhere. It’s as though I've been expelled from school.

A new chapter awaits me. It is nothing out of the ordinary, but holds a significant impact in life. It is this journey that will change me, or at least that's what they said, that they will change boys to men.

But what if I don't want to grow up?

I'm not scared about it, nor excited about it. I'm just worried about what I would become, wary about committing more mistakes that will haunt me in more ways than I can imagine. It is after all the perfect platform for someone to do something stupid. And within these 2 years, who knows if I would grow to be for better or for worse.

But I'll survive. And I'll complain about it as usual, but still find some element of fun in it. Just like the many trials that I have been through.

However a part of me isn't so sure about the people I'll be leaving. Will we still be as close? Will we still hang out as often? Will we still contact each other? Will we still remain friends?

My dear friends, if you happen to read this, I know it’s rather stupid of me to say something like this, but do remember that I exist and still alive while I'm involuntarily defending this country.

2007-12-19T22:06:00.000+08:00

There are some things in the world I can never understand. Perhaps it's just my fate that I am never meant to, that I'm supposed to just accept it for what it is and not question further. After all, comprehending what happened doesn't change the fact that it did happen, that nothing can ever change it or prevent it.

I stood facing a Christmas tree as I waited for a friend, with the tune of carols playing in the background and surrounded with decorations that wish all passerby season greetings. Naturally, my mind begins to wonder off, remembering nostalgic events and memories that I've thought to have long forgotten, as well as mistakes and failures I wish I did forget. Unfortunately, it has become an annual habit for me.

Whenever the end of the year approaches, my Christmas gift to myself would be a reminder of all the sins I have committed towards the people around me. Annoying as it is, it is also the one thing I can never really come to terms with, how the skeletons in my closet will suddenly spring back to life to haunt me on this last month of the year.

And along the memories, I begin to remember the people who have entered my life, as well as the people who have inevitably left. It pains me to see a face that I have lost contact with for ages. It pains me more to face the prospects of the current people in my life having to leave eventually. I never liked goodbyes. They have haunted my childhood and even after maturity, it is something I have yet to get over with. Somewhere deep within my heart, I still yearn to see my childhood friends again, even if they are halfway across the globe or if I can still remember their names.

And with those memories, it means that there will be more to come. A whole new year awaits one of more challenges, of more pains and of more obstacles with perhaps a greater magnitude than what we have experienced. It is through tribulations where we emerge to become stronger individuals. And because we are recognized to be stronger, we are thrown to face even more. And if you are unable to cope in time, that’s where you fall. And then, the whole cycle repeats itself, as an even new year approaches.

This is why I never truly enjoy Christmas. But it isn't that bad this year. The skies aren't gray when you wake up and rain doesn't bombard the streets that often. Plus the "A" Levels are over, which speaks volumes alone actually. But even with all the joy, Christmas, for some reason, gives me a strange and awkward feeling of solitude. It isn't as if I'm alone and I'm in need of company, but it feels as if something is missing, as if something important is suddenly gone.

Maybe I'm just thinking too much...

2007-11-29T23:25:00.000+08:00

There are moments in life you wish you can live forever. Times like these you wish your life was like a VCR player, where you can pause and rewind as many times you like. But that's what they call a dream, a realm of imagination that differs itself from the reality of life. Still, a man as the right to dream.

If only I could pause and rewind those few seconds over and over again as many times as I desired.

Just last week I just completed my "A" Level examinations. With it, I've completed the miserable 12 years of Singapore education my dear mother wanted me to go through. It was after all one of the reasons why she convinced my father to quit his SIA job; or so I've heard. It is inhuman to put a child through regiments of homework, test and examinations over and over again, forcing him to mature through pressure and stress. It is cruel to put a child in a battlefield to fight for his own future amongst other children at a cut-throat pace. It is crazy to stuff a child with so much irrelevant information that would be of no use in the future or in the working world regardless of whether the child likes it or not.

And when this "non-eternal" hell finally burnout its last flame, it was as if the whole world was filled with joy, a loving warmth and a hope for a better and happier future. It was as if the examiner's "Time's up, please stop writing" was the most beautiful melody one have ever heard. If I could relive those few seconds all over again, I would.

Close to 4 years ago, I was still attached. Given that it was so long ago, I shouldn't be dwelling on the past and just move on with life. Then again, how can I? Those precious few seconds were of pure bliss, tranquility and calmness. It would be evil of anyone to force me to forget that moment in my life. There we were on the beach on a cool and quiet night, the stars were out and the sea breeze was gentle. Things couldn't get any better. I was wrong.

We kissed. And it was as if someone threw me a float while I was about to drown in my own world of problems. It was as if time itself stopped, and nothing else mattered anymore. Everything was a peace, everything was in harmony with one another, and everything that was wrong suddenly looked so right. If I could relive those few seconds all over again...

Almost 2 years ago, just before there were A levels, there were O levels. I was about to collect my results and just like everyone else around me, I was intoxicated with fear while forcing up a smile. It wasn't that I didn't have confidence in myself, nor did I regret not working harder for the examination. It was just that little something about collecting results. You do want the best results while being weary of the worst as well.

When I got my results and recited them to my parents over the phone, their words of approval and laughter moved me to tears. The results didn't matter, where I would end up with those results didn't matter too, neither did the comparison with my peers matter. At that point in time, it was like my every worry and every trouble solved itself magically. It was like all my burdens removed and I was sprung up to fly for those few seconds. My parents were proud of me, and for someone who have tried to earn their praise for a decade while disappointing them time and time again, that was everything.

It is the very reason why I have never contemplated suicide; it is for times like these. And soon, a few months for now, we'll see if I'll have another precious memory to keep.

2007-11-14T22:56:00.000+08:00

Have you ever danced the tango?

They say that the tango is the most beautiful dance ever known to man. So beautiful, that one must dance it at least once in his entire lifetime before facing death himself. Its grace, its lure, its attraction cannot be described in words if one wishes to do the dance justice. It is just that beautiful.

They lied.

You are clothed in full black, a suave haircut, an irresistible smile complimented with the most seductive pair of eyes. You glance across the dance floor and spot her, dressed in crimson red, hourglass figure and flawless long hair.

The "A" Levels is just like doing the tango. They describe it as the optimum route to enter the university, an express passage towards the ultimate ending point of full-time education. Only the best of the best of every generation is entitled to take it. And only the best of that best manage to dance the tango, in style.

The rhythm sets in, a prologue to the music. You make your way towards her slowly, poised with confidence, and so does she, strolling her way towards you. You make eye contact, and then the music plays.

This is where the lie begins. The tango isn't the most beautiful dance. On the contrary, it is the scariest. She looks at you with bloodless eyes, showing no emotion or fear. Subconsciously, you begin to realize she is far more experienced than you. Finding any way to seduce her heart will be futile, for it is she who has seduced yours.

How many of us have faltered by the height of lecture notes, by the thought of failing time and time again, by the uncertainty and confusion when we look at the unfamiliarity of questions thrown at us in every possible way? This is after all, the "A" Level syllabus.

And then, the dance begins. You are in no control as you simply react to her every action and every movement. Fearing embarrassment you simply follow, you simply do what have to be done. You look across her shoulder and notice everyone in the ballroom dances the exact same dance, but with more grace and passion than you are ever able to do. You begin to become lost, wonder why you ever took up this stupid tango in the first place.

And yes, many a times I myself have questioned the stupidity of me undertaking the "A" Levels and not taking an alternative route. And yes, many a times I myself have questioned what the hell I was doing in a school that conflicted with my personality and believes.

The music grows louder, leading onto the climax. You figured, “What the hell”, grabbed her arm, and flung her out before pulling her back in. At the final and last few beats of the song, you were in control. Instead of following her steps, you were making your own, leading her to dance your own tango.

Immersed with the hunger for success and the fear of failure, I have drowned myself in hard work; put all of my blood, sweat and soul to fight this damned fight. Because this dance will determine what sort of dance I would be doing for the rest of my entire life, and I certainly don't want to dance the tango again.

The music is about to end as you hold her hand and her hip, staring into her eyes with ferocity and passion. She looks back and smiles, as you wonder if the smile was of your defeat or of her submission.

She gives you the kiss of death on the cheek and whispers, "The dance isn't over yet..."

They lied.

2007-10-27T19:12:00.000+08:00

I can tell you how much heat you will need to evaporate 1kg of water. I can even tell you why the government emphasis so much on retraining Singapore workers. I can also tell you why salt dissolves in water and why sand doesn't. Likewise, I can also tell you the odds of you flipping a coin and obtaining heads 3 times in a row. And yet, I can't decide what I want to eat for lunch.

It’s what the education system, that my dear mother wanted me to go through, has done to me and perhaps many of my peers as well. Bloating teenagers with content that will probably be of no use in the working world and beyond in an attempt to classify us in terms of academic capabilities and grades.

I knew they were right when they told me life in a junior college wasn't a life at all. I just didn't expect them to be that right. And I responded by saying that it would only be a matter of time before I get used to it. I was wrong.

It has produced a bittersweet feeling in me. One part of me just wants it to end once and for all, so that I can forget that this suffering and pain was ever introduced to me. The other just wants to prolong and delay the time left before the final obstacle arrives, simply because it thinks that I'm just not ready to face the challenge yet.

I don't blame my sense of doubt. It is after all, the result of the conditioning of too many failures. I still find it sadistically amusing, to fail almost each and every test ever took ever since my junior college journey.

There was one failure that hit me rather hard. And I think that the only people who know the true impact it had on me are my Chinese teacher and I. Not even my parents are aware of it. Well technically, it wasn't a failure to begin with. But after watching myself achieving just a mere passing grade, I just simply couldn't believe it. Recklessly, I chose to retake the exam, giving all sorts of excuses ranging from statistics of achieving better grades to boost my chances to entering into a local university, to the consent of my parents.

But I knew, the only reason I wanted to retake the paper again, was to convince myself that I could do better, that there must have been some mistake, and that the legend of failing a major exam was simply a myth. I didn't want to believe that passing grade was all I was worth.

But sometimes, legends and myths do come true at times. I fared even worse than my first attempt. I failed it.

I don't get it. I thought I was improving just before I retook the paper. I was actually passing all the mock papers with reasonable grades. I was actually doing well. I was well-prepared. I guess it just wasn't enough.

I didn't want to think about it. I never allowed my mind to dwell on it. The memory would occasionally pop up every now and then, but I just brush it aside. It was what my Chinese teacher had warned me about, but I guess I was too stubborn to listen. It still pricks me each time I'm reminded about it. It pricks me even more painfully when I keep hearing people calling each other "chinese noob" everywhere, where the real "chinese noob" is actually me.

It occurred to me then, that what was once believed as a myth was actually true. It is possible to fail a major exam, and that it didn't require "skill".

It is possible to fail A levels.

Truth hurts.

I don't like the truth.

I'm smart. I know I am. If I weren't, I wouldn't be able to make it this far. My teachers believe in my competence. My peers acknowledge my capabilities. My parents have faith in me. I myself know just what I'm made of. My other papers will achieve my desired grades. I believe it would, I know it would. It isn't just wishful thinking, or faking confidence, or an induced gut feeling. It's more like a premonition of an inevitable future.

Things will work out. I will get what I want. It's just the way things work in this world. I will get what I want. Please, let me get what I want.

Please.

2007-10-13T00:23:00.000+08:00

You know you have reached the age when things around you start saying so. You don't even have to make an effort to look for them; they will naturally find you instead. And all you need to do is to listen to their faint whispers and not be in denial. Fortunately, or unfortunately, it’s hard to remain in denial, especially when these things prelude many other chapters in your life. Things like, the coming of the "A" levels within a few weeks, or the enlistment letter from the government demanding your services to defend the nation, or even the subtle aging of your parents.

You know its time to not be a kid anymore.

It raises the question of maturity, of whether you are strong enough to stop being the kid and face adulthood after about 2 decades worth of preparation. How would you know you're ready, that you have the strength to live independently and perhaps even support a family of your own, whether it be a new one or the current one that you have. How would you know that you're still not a kid?

They say maturity comes when you begin to understand the concept of childish. Just by knowing the annotation and meaning of that word, you will naturally do well to avoid falling in any form of classification that associates with it. Perhaps it’s just an aspiration in all children to grow up that cause us to have that drive. That aspiration lingers on during the remnants of our childhood. You begin to comprehend what kids do, and what adults don't do, and naturally, a conscience develops to help you differentiate right from wrong; even if the conscience can become confuse at often times. And then, that’s when you begin to walk the “adult walk”.

A simpler requirement is just the coming of age. They always told me "When you reach the age, you'll understand". As much as I doubt those words in the past, they were right. With age, I begin to realize how others think and feel around me, I obtained the basic understanding of the world, and, naturally, I knew what sex was. It just came as though it was pure instinct of a man to actually know these things once a certain age limit was reached. Just like how you knew what an opposite gender was and just how attractive they can be at times.

Or an even more obvious indicator is when someone just says so to you, even if the manner of saying it isn't at all obvious. When I was still a 12 year old, people told me I looked mature for my age. I never understood what they meant. At the age of 16, my mother told me before she went overseas that I was mature enough to take care of myself and that I won't do anything stupid while my parents were away. I still doubt her words. At the age of 18, my father showed signs that he knew I was no longer a small boy, even though he never said so directly. I began to understand that I needed to grow up fast.

Over my 18 years of existence, I realize that maturity is in fact none of the above. When I was 16, I thought I was no longer a kid. One year later, I began to recognize the childish and embarrassing things I was still doing, showing that I still didn’t understand the concept of childish. And another year later, I began to recognize even more childish and embarrassing things I was still doing, showing that I my conscience haven’t fully developed. And now, the calling for me to grow up is stronger than ever.

Maturity is a never-ending process. As you age, you encounter more, you become more experienced, you are more learned, and thus you mature. How mature one is simply depends on one's willingness to learn not only from his surroundings, but from himself as well as the mistakes he commits. Acknowledging those mistakes is a sign of a maturing heart.

So how do you know when you are ready? Well, you don't; you will be forced to be.

2007-09-26T22:47:00.000+08:00

There is a large piece of furniture at home. It has been there since my birth, and has been part of my development and growing process. In fact, one part of my life is dedicated to it.

That’s all it really is, a large piece of furniture; or at least since almost 4 years ago when I just gave up on it. It just lay there collecting dust and obstructing space, the cloth covering it prevented it from reminding me of my lack of determination.

My life at the moment is in turmoil. I live each day with the hope that things will get better, and that served as my main driving force for the pass 18 months or so. But for the sake of the people around me, and for my parents who love me, and for friends who care for me, I endure through the tough days with a smile to show that everything is fine, even though I know that there's only so much that I can lie to myself.

Unfortunately, comfort doesn't always come in numbers. When the people around you grow weak and need support, it would be inhuman to not offer any. So you do, even though you yourself need support, but miraculously manage to provide enough superhuman strength to return faith to others who lost their confidence. They see you as strong, thinking that you are always able to manage your own problems and failures on your own, even though they don't see the weakness within yourself.

Because it would be just wrong of you to shed your tears.

Once at home, with no one around, you approach the large piece of furniture. It just beacons to you even though you have tried to ignore its presence for the last 4 years. But gingerly, you uncover it and pry it open. The keys still having its fresh black and white look, as though it hasn't aged a day since you last covered it away.

The evening sun peers through the window, the noise from the outside world suddenly became insignificant, and your thoughts within your mind stand frozen for that split second as you sat down and faced your old friend.

Emotions diffused to your fingers and you began to cry out in terms of songs, tunes and melodies. The sun slowly crept away from the window, and soon the darkness of night took over the house. But the need for expression was so great, you just refused to stop.

Even though you can only play 4 simple songs, it was enough to cry out your every negative thought and sad emotion that haunts you. And the large piece of furniture that you have not even set eyes upon for 4 years just stood with you and cried out with you.

No, it isn't a large piece of furniture. That non-living object is a friend of the family, a friend especially to me.

2007-09-14T20:11:00.000+08:00

The love letter to no one.

Dear Love,

I love you.

And I know that they tend to say "I love you" only at the end of letters, but this time I choose to start differently. Because you are different, even if you yourself do not think so, even if deep in your heart you feel as though you are the same as the sea of people you are constantly surrounded by, even if you assume you are of no significant value worthy of existence. You are different, to me at least.

You are different because out of the many people around me, you are the one who changed me. Your impact on me has changed the way I think, the way I behave, and the way I perceive life. And all that happens, just by loving you, even if your feelings towards me are not the same.

Just by loving you, my days become brighter just by looking at you, my nights become less lonely just by thinking of you, and my sleeps become more peaceful just by dreaming of you. Your presence alone grants me strength to face my challenges and fears. Your smile alone gives me motivation and encouragement to continue fighting my battles. Your voice alone soothes the anger and rage within me by engulfing me with the tranquility and calmness that I so desire.

Your absence has made me lost in this cold world. Your feelings of intimacy that you do not have for me empties my soul. Your ignorance of my love for you kills me more with each passing day. Just by loving you, you have cursed me with dependence, jealousy and envy. But my love for you wavers not, for I long to just see you again.

But the world is cruel, and just by living in it, there are some things that I cannot change, no matter how I feel. In this world, I can never have you, and you will never be mine. No matter how many times I see you, no matter how much I just want to be with you, no matter how much I love you, both of us can never be together. Because it is a sin to the world to love you, because I should never have had feelings for you, because it would be wrong of me to call you "my love".

Because we are just never meant to be.

But know that I love you, and that you have changed my life, for better or for worse. Just by you knowing that, is enough for me, even if you will never be in my arms, even if you will never know if this letter was written for you, even if you don't feel the same way as I do for you.

Love, me.

2007-09-09T17:22:00.000+08:00

This sucks.

Big time.

It’s a feeling that I'm all too familiar with, but with probably twice the magnitude. The unstable heart rate, the sweaty palms and the uneasy restlessness; what the hell is wrong with me? It’s as if I just got infected by some disease.

Fine. Its tomorrow, so what? It isn’t like I'm not prepared. I could have been more prepared, but hey, I'm still ready to fight, somehow. But the anxiety and anticipation is killing me.

The entire next 2 weeks will pass by without my realization and things will go on as though nothing had happened. The world will still spin, I will still be alive, and the sun will still rise.

I WILL BE FINE!

The heart is harder to convince than I thought...

2007-09-05T20:57:00.001+08:00

*A thought hit me. So if you intend to read this, expect randomness or senseless musings.

There's something I just realized. Well, its not a recent revelation, its something I already knew a long time ago but suddenly popped into my mind. It reminded me about my blog, which is why I'm here typing away instead of engrossing myself in another exciting chapter of "Ten Year Series".

It made me remember the title of this blog, "This is my story". It made me remember how everything and everyone has a story, no matter how small or how insignificant they are. They all have a story. And if we take the time to truly understand and feel that story, we will be able to learn and experience things that words alone cannot fully illustrate.

When was the last time you paused in your tracks and sat down to breathe in everything around you? When was the last time you noticed something or someone at the background of that scene, be it on the bus, in school, or at home? See your dad returning home from work, or that very same person you see every morning on the bus, or the schoolmate whom you notice very often but hardly know?

Do you know what their story is? Do you know their life experiences? Do you know their memories or influences that make them who they are?

People are very interesting things to watch, especially those whom you do not know, or those who do not know you. It's easier to laugh at them when they do something stupid, or be happy for them when they succeed in one of many life's challenges, or sympathizes with them when they fall. Of course, that is provided that you can actually feel what they feel and see what they see, not just look at things superficially.

Perhaps one reason why God made man in the first place is to watch how each and every person's story unfolds.

And because every person's experience is unique, it simply opens your perspective, without even going through it first-hand. It grants you maturity and wisdom and all you need to do, is watch and listen. And the best part is that there's no need to be picky. Every one has their own fair share of joy and pain, everyone who has lived life at all will bound to have something to tell. Everyone has their own story.

So instead of trying to carve out your own story to perfection, why not look towards others? Read their stories with an open heart. Learn their lessons and understand their character and personality as much as possible. The best stories in the world always included a small sub-plot somewhere anyway.

Damn, I feel as though I'm reprimanding myself. But well, this is my story after all.

We all have our stories. What will yours be?

2007-08-22T01:13:00.000+08:00

"For this question, you'll need to read from the graph. Just find the value of v when t is..."

It was a Monday. Mondays are terrible, which is probably why it's called a Monday in the first place. My half asleep mind was trying its best to absorb whatever the lecturer was teaching, while another part of me fought with the fatigue and boredom within.

"Hey Kenny." I leaned to my left, my eyes still fixed onto the lecture screen, figuring out how the heck he managed to obtain the value of v in the first place.

"Sup?" There was a momentary pause, which caused me to turn to face him. "I just realized this is the last Monday we are going to have." I smirked, and replied, "Yup" while returning my attention to the lesson at hand.

He's right; it is the last Monday we are going to have, as a student, as a regular kid seeking education in a school uniform. The Mondays after this one are going to be a whole lot different, and a whole lot worse even.

But what really got me thinking, instead of figuring out the value of t, was the ignorance that we all have. We, referring the students, the very people who would miss this last week of school more than anyone else. We are so cropped up with achieving academic perfection, especially since the Big A is coming, that we forget the other things that also matter.

How many of us actually value this last week of a proper school day? How many of us are actually aware that there will never be another week like this again? Strange isn't it, we complain so much about how dreadful and long the days are, and then in a flash, everything is about to come to a close.

It made me think about my entire school life, right from the very beginning to this very day. And the weirdest thing is that all the stress and pressure that I recall complaining about constantly never seem to exist in the first place. It’s as if it were never there at all.

All I could remember were the joy and fun times enjoying my childhood while interacting with the many and numerous people from all walks of life. All I could recall were the lessons learned through growing up, through failures and through heart-breaks, rather than the actual lessons that go on in the classroom and from the textbooks.

My life in a school uniform has been fruitful. It has after all molded me into the very person I am now. And ten years from now, when I look back, I would agree with the same thing, with perhaps ten times the magnitude.

Its now time for us to end it with a bang, with a conclusion worthy of our powerful and spectacular story, an ending that will bring bright prospects for the next chapter ahead of us.

May God be with us all.

2007-08-16T23:33:00.000+08:00

I had another dream again, which isn't a good sign at all. To have so many significant dreams within such a short period of time isn't like me at all. Then again, it probably proves that the stress and pressure is getting to me, thus the need for my mind to have an outlet.

I was in the school hall, and so were many others. Friends, peers, rivals and comrades in this great battle we are currently all so wary of. I can't remember the details, but I could recall myself gripping my knees, sick with fear and worry while I shivered in my seat. Just by recalling that feeling, my fingers are shaking by their own while typing this. I must have been traumatized in my dream.

But there were people around me. I can't remember who, but because of their company, I felt a little secure. It's probably because every one of us was feeling the same. At the corner of my eye, few others have already broken into tears from the tensed atmosphere. It was as if every one of us was going to die.

My name was called. I stood up, nearly falling from my weak legs, and walked. A slip of paper was presented to me. I took the paper with both hands, shook the hand of the presenter and slipped away to the back of the hall. On impulse, I took out my phone and called my father.

I looked at my slip of paper the moment he answered. And then, I began to cry. I cried so hard that I fell on my knees. The overwhelming emotion woke me from my slumber, and there were tears in my eyes.

But I was smiling. Even though I couldn't remember most of the dream, I could remember the contents of that slip of paper.

"A A B A B"

2007-08-09T11:59:00.000+08:00

August 9th, 2004. It was just the two of us. The night was chilled, the air was calm and the atmosphere was perfect. Things couldn't get any better that night. I was wrong; it did.

What in the world would I do to live those 5 seconds all over again. Those 5 seconds that felt like an eternity and yet past by so quickly, those 5 seconds that were of pure bliss but brought pure agony afterwards, those 5 seconds that felt so alive but now exist only in my memories.

It's strange how selective the memory is. It chooses to remember certain events on its own will, with or without my conscious control. I was rather pleasantly surprised when I suddenly had the flashback. It would be a good distraction from the stressed lifestyle I'm struggling to keep up with at the moment, if it didn't bring the sense of loneliness and heartaches that I tried to shut myself from.

Oh yes, there are things in life that I cannot, and probably never will, get accustomed to, no matter how many times I'm faced with it. It was kind of nice experiencing nostalgia; as though it served to remind me a little about the old me that I've missed so much.

Wonder how she's doing anyway, haven't heard from her for quite a while.

2007-08-05T22:19:00.000+08:00

There was a pause in the air. I was anticipating something, like a sudden wave of worry or a bullet through the heart. I was waiting for it, but nothing came. Why?

“Serious?” I stupidly asked. I was probably too tired to register what was going on, or everything happened so quickly that I couldn't catch it. Or perhaps, it was something I already realized, but never allowed myself to know about it.

Things would have been better if I could just shut up. Why in the world did I need the extra confirmation of what she said? Wasn't it already obvious enough? Why couldn't I just smile and nod my head as usual?

But that’s when my teacher continued. And with her looking at me with unshaken eyes and the seriousness in her tone of voice, I could tell she wasn't joking with me, as much as I wished for it to be one. "Ya! I'm very worried for you. This cannot continue."

I'm worried for myself too.

But when she said that one line to me, it didn't hit me as painfully as I thought it would. In fact, one part of me agreed that it actually came in quite timely. I walked back to my seat, still able to put on a smile on my face, while the insides of me burn with fire. Flames not of hate, but of resolve, as those few words lingered in my thoughts.

"Kenneth, at the rate you are going, I'm afraid you might even fail your ‘A’ Levels." I don't blame her, she's a good teacher; one of the best I've seen throughout my whole 12 years of education.

Fail my "A" levels? Your words point towards disbelief, but I can tell by your eyes and your voice that you still have faith in me.

I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to prove your words wrong. Watch me, I'll get my A.

2007-07-27T00:23:00.000+08:00

I had a strange dream lately, which was rather ironic considering that I had to write an essay about dreams recently. In that essay, I wrote that dreams give life purpose, a direction to head towards and just something to live for. Perhaps that was the last thought on my mind before drifting off to sleep.

It was a nice dream. I haven't had nice dreams in a long while. And in that dream, I felt the tranquility and calmness that I hunger and crave for. There was peace, no worries about not having done my homework, or a test that I have yet studied for, or the demoralizing thought of failing every single exam. There was happiness, and perhaps a little worry about the little things that don't really matter, like what I was going to eat for lunch or whether I felt like taking the taxi or the MRT home.

It was a dream about the future. I was probably in my early twenties, and I was still schooling in a university. I can't remember which, but it was definitely a local university. I had a laptop in front of me as I was attempting to do my assignment and a guitar case sat beside me. I was probably going to meet up with someone later with that guitar, although I'm not really sure who, or for what.

But at that point during my dream, I felt my every aspiration fulfilled. My place in a local university, my very own guitar my Dad promised to get me for my A level grades (which probably meant my A level results were really good), and if I try to remember as much as I can, there was even a special girl on my mind, even though I can’t really remember how she looked like or what’s her name. But the best part of that dream was that everything was at peace. Not like the rat race I've gotten myself into, not like the dark mornings I wake up to every day, not like the lethargic feeling that plague me every single minute of my life.

It was the true meaning of what a dream should be like.

I will make my dreams come true. Watch me.

2007-07-13T00:57:00.000+08:00

我好久没用华语写网上日记了。上次用华语写的时候是为了帮我华文进步，因为我觉得自从我用网上日记写出我的看法时，觉得有对我英文有帮助。所以希望这也会对我华文有一样的效果。

其实我有很多东西要写的，但因为我逼自己用华语，所以不能找到适当的字来形容或表达自己。可惜我华文不够好。我觉得你们读完这一段后一定会笑我，或问自己：“为什么这傻瓜不会用华文就遍遍勉强要用华文？”

就是因为不好所以要练吗。

请不要笑我，而鼓励我。我相信久之后，我华文能进步的。虽然我现在不需要考华文或写作文，但我不想把十多年的辛苦给浪费掉。虽然这十多年的华文成绩也不太理想，但我不管，我就要我死前把这语文搞好。

别像我班上的一位同学。那天我们拿回年中考试成绩，因为我考得不好，把考卷盖上，不想让走过的人看到。他就走过来，问也没问，小心翼翼的拿了我的考卷看一下。看了我的成绩后，把考卷放下，微笑着。

那时，我真的想在他脸上给他两巴掌。

我不能用华语像我用英语写得那么深奥。但我觉得因为我只能用到那么简单的华文字，比较多读者会更了解我在讲什么。相反的，因为我华文太滥了，比较多人不知道我到底在说什么。希望情况没那么惨吧…

明天是我的华文口试，祝我好运吧。

2007-07-10T20:21:00.000+08:00

Now where have I seen that before? It’s as like watching a re-run on television. You know it was shown before, but just can't remember when, or what the program was about in the first place. But you know you have seen it somewhere somehow.

It was a melancholic movie, lots of grief and sadness, together with a very negative narrator and main character. The situation looks bleak and showed no signs of the rain clearing. In fact, the rain just got heavier. The gray sky began to turn black as the clouds gathered, making it difficult to differentiate night or day.

Gray skies are supposed to become clear after a shower. And have the sun peak through the heavens as it clears. Not become darker than it already is.

Having seen the movie before, somewhere, somehow, I knew the ending would be fine, that everything will work out fine, and it will be a happy ending. Unfortunately, knowing alone isn't enough to convince the heart. Just as you know you won't be able to pass an exam, but the little glimmer of hope still exist within you.

When I saw someone else having more than twice the marks than me, I knew that there was something wrong with the world.

But the scene felt the same. The emotions it brings and the thoughts that run through the chaos in the mind were familiar. And it was like watching a re-run of a movie.

I know the ending of this movie. I've seen it before somewhere, so I know. Even if it is a different movie, the endings are mostly the same. Movies must have nice endings if they want a good review from the critics and viewers.

There just got to be one. Please let it be a good ending.

Things will work out somehow; it's just the way God made the world to be. Please let it work out fine, let it work out nicely, and not in a mess like now.

Please.

2007-06-30T21:56:00.000+08:00

The eye of the storm. The grace period during a battle, when a truce is declared. The orange sunset before nightfall. Sunsets never lasted long enough to begin with; I know it from personal experience.

The exam period has started to take its toil on me. I was no stranger to the exam hall, nor was I unfamiliar with the pressure that came with it. But there are some things in life I can never get accustomed to, no matter how many times I am faced with it over and over again. Watching me helpless against a piece of paper insulting my intelligence and lack of knowledge injected fear in myself.

Then again, what was there to fear? The fear of failure? The fear of disappointment? The fear of disgracing the very people who had faith in me?

Food was on the table. It was something I haven't seen for at least a week while my parents were overseas. Finally being able to taste home-cooked food again was bliss. It was an innocent gathering, something that my family doesn’t really do that often anymore, given our hectic schedules. "Dad, when do you intend on retiring?" He looked at me, then at the calendar nearby. "2010, by the time you enter university."

"Then Mom?" He looked at his wife who pretended not to hear the question, hinting to my father to reply in her place. "Probably next year, after you graduate from junior college."

It made me realize how much faith my parents had for me. They never considered the possibility of me failing my A levels and not able to enter a local university. They believed that I would be fine and my future was bright enough for them to finally let go of me. They trust me to know the right thing for me to do and to do it.

I remembered the day I collected my O level results. My parents thought I was a genius, even though I barely scored a raw score of only 10 points. They were probably comparing to what my sister got during her days. I guess from that day on, they thought that I was capable enough to fight the next fight just as gracefully as I did 2 years ago.

As a result, they never really gave me much pressure on my academics. They were quite taken back when my result slip always had "U"s for every subject. But even so, they never given up on me, continued to believe that I would do well for my A levels. They don't say it out loud, but I can feel it from them. They just smiled at me that very day when they saw my report slip, and told me to do better next time. Somehow, I can't help but feel that just by not giving me pressure actually stresses me out more.

Things will work out somehow. I've always believed in that, even though just by believing in that theory, it has made my life into one hell of a roller coaster ride. But in the end, they always did work out. It’s just the way God made the world to be.

So no point in worrying about all this I guess. I'll just focus on what I have to do. That, and probably enjoy my remaining time wearing a school uniform.

2007-06-20T21:57:00.000+08:00

The problem with aging: the older you get, the less time you seem to have. Oh yes, and this relationship increases exponentially.

Back when I was still a primary school kid, things were tensed when my free time was robbed by homework or by one of those exams that came only 4 times a year. In other words, less time for TV, less time for the computer.

When I reached the second stage, things became tough if I don't play a computer game at least once a week. That was a time when I gave up on the TV completely. I still had time to check my mail, surf the web and all, but there were days I had to forgo playing games due to lack of time to complete my homework, or simply exhaustion.

Now at the third stage, things were normal when you only have four hours of sleep, can't touch your computer at all, and sometimes even forget you have a television at home. Heck, sometimes it's normal to not sleep at all. Your definition of stress and pressure becomes a little haywire because just when you thought things can't get any worse, it actually does.

Perhaps it’s something to do with the education system, or their simple belief that when you grow older the less time you need to rest, or when you grow older your body becomes more durable. "Hey look, I put so much pressure on this guy and he still grows taller!"

It was just something I thought about while staring outside the window of my room, watching the world rushing by. I can't even remember when it was the last time I actually did that. All I could recall was that I was doing it whenever I had the free time ever since I was entitled to my own room.

And as years go by, my window felt my presence less and less. Even just a few moments ago, I was merely there for a few minutes. Plus I forced myself there since my time isn't exactly very free at the moment.

Not much have changed though. The roads are the same, maybe a little blacker since they just repaired it recently. The HDB blocks opposite mine had a new coat. And the landscape had more street lights (or maybe they installed brighter bulbs...).

But the very essence of the scenery was still the same. People walking on the pavements were rushing to their appointments. Cars rushing home for dinner. And bus-loads of passengers packed to the brim, rushing to their various destinations. Everyone is rushing to somewhere, all rushing to get rushed.

It makes me feel almost guilty for just standing there and watch.

But I guess that’s how I am really. In an environment where everyone is a hard worker, I simply stand there and watch. Not by my own free will, but subconsciously without my realisation. An extremely dangerous habit to keep, given that everywhere in Singapore is a race.

Makes me wonder why I chose to enter into such a "chiong" junior college.

Its not that I refuse to work hard. I'm just raised in an environment that can't do so with other hard workers. But well, that isn't such a valid excuse, does it?

And it was believed that if I'm in an environment that has "chiong-sters" I will naturally become one too. Yeah right, it just makes me dislike "chionging" even more. Still, it is true that I'm no longer the slacker that I used to be.

But it made me realise, that it is not the major things in life that cause you to be who you are. Whether you were born in Singapore or the States doesn't really affect your character development does it? It's more of the small little things that you don't really notice. Like the scenery outside my room. I doubt I was born to be a slacker anyway.

Anyway, I have no idea why I wrote that. I just found the urge to write something. Oh, I just realised I have been blogging for almost 5 years.

2007-06-03T23:06:00.000+08:00

A new blog skin! What the hell am I doing! Damn it! I'm supposed to be studying! But there was just an itch I got to scratch.

Well, it isn't completely new, since all I did was change the colour and picture. Was really inspired by the anime BECK, thus the new image. At least now the skins are starting to turn out more and more like what I intended for it to, even though this wasn't the initial idea I had in mind.

Back to the books.

2007-05-20T17:00:00.000+08:00

How have you been?

It’s a simple question; just 4 words. That alone becomes a key to unlocking a person's inner thoughts and feelings. More often than not, the reply given is usually a smile, a slight chuckle, and then a serious and depressed expression, followed by a desperate attempt to cover up by showing the smile again, before saying, "I'm fine".

We have all seen it happen before. Any human who is still able to show care and concern for the people around him or her would have pointed the question to someone else before. Or else, any person capable of self-reflection would have asked himself these 4 words.

I myself have seen and performed that routine.

But once the smile immediately conceals the sad emotions, it is as if the beholder had shut the door. Any attempt to enter would be rejected, and multiple attempts will be given an irritated reply.

On the other hand, the 4 words are rarely expressed out in the proper way, or in most cases, never asked to anyone else at all. It’s like playing a basketball game. The ball accidentally hit someone in the face.

On impulse, you ask "You okay?" For the victim to answer "no" would mean the stoppage of the entire game, the displeasure of the anti-climatic conclusion and probably the disgust of other players who would shoot remarks in their own hearts, "Weakling!". So for the sake of avoiding such a scene, and for the sake of "professionalism", the victim, on impulse as well, answers "Yeah, no problem". Unfortunately it is impossible to tell whether the scene predicted would be fulfilled or it is simply a dramatic imagination at work. But most of the time, people tend to play the "rather safe than sorry" game.

Or in another case, it is like having the ball hit someone in the face, and all the players, assuming that the victim would say "I'm okay!" plays on, ignoring what had just happened.

Take that example and blow it up into the world's context, especially in the land of our beloved country, where everyone is rushing to get rushed for something else. The end result of having such thoughts like the basketball game would become a complex mind-set that everyone in society holds. People begin to assume that everyone else is doing fine, or at least better than themselves. Then that’s where self-pity starts to come in. Then you realize that people simply don't care about your existence anymore. And the world worries about is their own individualistic wants.

Then again, aren't you part of the world too, also chasing after your own selfish desires. The hunger is so strong that it literally blinds you from the people around you, causing you to become ignorant of the true emotional and physical state of those people, even those who care about you. Because the most basic of human instinct is to survive, and as long as you live, nothing else matters.

And then, that’s where the world begins to turn cold, where each person only focuses on their own dreams and goals. As a result, those 4 words asked at the beginning of this entry are rarely spoken, let alone with the proper delivery.

Just by issuing the question to any one, no matter who that person is, young or old, race or religion, friend or foe, it touches something deep within the person's heart. Because it gives the person a choice to expose his inner-most feelings that he have shut off from the rest of the world, or he can simply refuse the offer.

But even if he did refuse the offer, having touched that area within him will inevitably warm him. That little warmth means a lot to a person who has suffered the cold attitude of the world. It signals to that person that there is still hope, that love still exists, and that his existence is not ignored and is acknowledged.

Those 4 words are able to put someone in the most vulnerable state. Especially if there is trust involved. The one reason why people shut the door away from the world: because of the lack of trust, that if he were to voice out his feelings, he will get hurt. It is the every essence of the question. To put it simply, the 4 words actually mean, "If you trust me, you can tell me your inner thoughts and feelings."

To ask the question the wrong way would be betrayal. To be betrayed is to be rejected. To be rejected is a nightmare of man, who has been created as a social being. No one wants to be rejected, even if the rejection is small in magnitude. I have been the direct victim of betrayal before, and it is not a pretty sight.

I know I am not worthy of your trust, whether you know me in person or not, or whether you have even seen my face or not. I am simply another person out of the many hundreds and thousands you have seen. With time, I will fade away from your memory, and it will be as if I never came into your life in the first place. I know I appear to be stoned by nature and I don't hold a very friendly facial expression. Even if you did trust me, there is nothing to be gained. And I know I may appear to live a better life than you, even though I tend to complain about it more than you do.

But I know you have your challenges and obstacles in life and that you have been pushed down several times. I know that you are suffering from the pains and pressures every single day. I know that people have rejected you several times, even if they do not show it openly. I know that you are crying in your heart, sometimes wishing that you can just walk away from it all and vanish into the night.

That is why I’m here, for you. Even though I complain about my own life more than you do, even though I have no means of taking away your pains, even though I some times tend to forget about you and worry about myself too much. Even though I do not know you, even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you or kiss you.

Know and believe that I'm here for you, to hear you out, lend a shoulder for you to lean on, and be your sleeve to wipe your tears on. That even though I may not be there in person, someone else out there will be there in my place, with the exact same intention.

How have you been?

2007-05-16T23:05:00.000+08:00

Life is bittersweet. It gives you crap, things that seems totally redundant in your eyes. And the moment you realize how much it is worth to you and how much you actually value it in your heart, it steals it away from you in the most brutal way.

I have no idea why I did it. Why I would be crazy enough to sell my soul to "serving the school". People called me insane for doing so. I still consider myself crazy for doing so, given that I myself am unsure of my true intentions for joining the council. I can reply with a superficial answer, like "it’s for the testimonial" or "to build my leadership" or simply "because I want to". But knowing me, there is an ulterior reason behind it all.

There is a reason why I joined the council, but somehow I'm not letting myself know what. Perhaps it was to open my eyes to something that I have always wanted to know, or perhaps it was just to test my limits. Maybe it is to fill the void left by my previous CCA. Whatever the reason may be, fact is that I approached a councillor to pick up a form, and sold my blood away. And in life, when you get lemons, you make lemonades out of them.

I admit it, my life as a student councillor in a junior college is no easy task. It is definitely not a road for the faint-hearted. Over the term of service, I have seen people, who started out so energetically and enthusiastically, burn themselves out before the end. I have seen people fallen away, brought themselves back, only to fall again. I have seen my own comrades assaulted and insulted by the very people they swore to serve with their heart and soul, and forced to make into a laughing stock or punching bag for the discomfort and dissatisfaction they felt in the school. I have see my own brothers and sisters collapse before me, or even within their own hearts, or simply in private, and break into tears, because it was too tough, too much was demanded out of them, and they simply didn't know what to do.

I myself am no stranger to the roughs and the smoothes of the journey. I myself have my own fair share of pains and sorrows. I myself have shed my own share of blood and tears, and suffered humiliation and wounds, both physically and emotionally. I nearly lost my life while receing for MMM; and staring death in the eye is no funny issue (I have scars on my body to justify that).

However, in every cloud there is a silver lining. It is through sacrifice, through suffering and through dedication that I've learnt the true meaning of service, that I've understood the true feeling of satisfaction and success, that I've once again seen true love. Love not in the sense of affairs and scandals, but a love that is so unique and so foreign to me that I don't know the right words to describe it. Perhaps the best I can do for now is to say that I hold a love-hate relationship for the council; I hate the work, I hate the sacrifice, but because of that hate, I love everything that I do because I'm proud of who I have turned out to be, and because there are people who understand and go through the exact same thing, and more than ever, whenever I hear someone, no matter who that someone is, smile at me and say "Thank you".

Because of the rough journey, I have emerged stronger, more confident of myself and more mature. I see things more clearly than I used to, and I'm more capable than before. If my true intention for joining the council is to become a better man, then I am satisfied with the end result.

Today as the final day of wearing the council badge felt too surreal. I was still under the impression that the next day would be the same; reach school early to report, do assembly duty, stay back after school for some meeting, and then smaller meetings with the committee if there are any upcoming projects, if not I would be restocking vending machines.

But as I took the council badge off my uniform to be placed on my blazer, the realisation of the truth hit me. It was as if I didn't want to believe it myself, and when I take the title "councillor" off of me, I literally force myself to see that I am no longer part of the student body's leading organisation, and from tomorrow onwards I would be a regular student.

Not that being regular is a bad thing. I have worn that badge for the most of my life in junior college that it’s starting to become more like a tattoo than something I can simply detach from my attire. It is a part of me, and I give up shit loads of crap for it, and it is something I have fought for and earned; even though it is something that got me into trouble several times.

When I do reflections on the past, I always feel as if time is passing too quickly for anybody's good. Investiture today was supposed to mark the end of my council life. At the back of my mind, I saw myself being invested instead. And back then, I was clueless as to what to expect. If I had the slightest idea of what was to come, I'll probably never have picked up that form.

So now, I have officially stepped down, retired as a student councillor. I would say that my journey has been a meaningful one. With gains that can never be bought with money, or even be described with words. It is this satisfaction that is felt in the heart, as if one of my purposes in life has been fulfilled. So much so that the sacrifices I made back then felt insignificant. Even though I know myself that I would probably never do the same again if I were given the choice.

Life is for each individual to define, thus it is each individual to give meaning to one's life. To be in the council was an insane decision, but I'll say it was worth it. I've complained about it, about how much I have to give up, and how much it drained away from me. But because of that, I have grown, and I have gained love, for the council and from the people in council. I'm still touched by the way they remembered my birthday.

During council training camp, when the 4th council was the host of the camp, I was placed in charge of organising an endurance run. And during the briefing, I spontaneously said something that made an impact of me. It reminded me why the council is comprised of many people and not an individual, why we choose to suffer as one whole council and why being a student councillor means more than simply a job or a chore to all of us.

"Because we are family. And that's what family do."

2007-05-08T16:02:00.000+08:00

It’s the month of May. May has always been significant for me, other than serving to remind me that half a year has gone by. The sun rises earlier in May, and for some reason, becomes hotter as compared to the previous months as well. Heat exhaustion is no joke, especially if it magically brings the inner demons within a person to life.

It’s hard to constantly tell yourself that it’s all confined within the imagination when it begins to hurt and wound you. I don't really know how to describe it in a way that will not make me sound crazy. But it’s as though the pains caused in my inner battle produces the wounds that show on the outside. Perhaps I'm just delusional.

Apart from December, May has always been depressing for me, even though it’s for a different reason. In Decembers, I remember nostalgic events, memories that haunt me in more ways that I can imagine, and the lessons that go with those memories. Even though May has a shiner setting due to the weather that brings less rain and more sunshine, May frightens me more that December.

During the month of May, I have no idea why, but I begin to question my existence. I begin to ask myself things like, "What will happen if I didn't exist?" or "Would everything still be the same without me being around?" Undeniably, my years of living and breathing in this world has made an impact to people's lives, big or small. But then again, does it really matter? Its like, even if I died the next day, everything will still go fine, everything will continue running, everything will proceed as usual. The sun will still rise as early as it should in May, the weather will still be as hot as everyday should, and the world will continue on unaffected.

Likewise, if I wasn't born into such a place to begin with, things will still go on, the sun will continue to rise the next day, and everyday will be as it should. Perhaps my parents would be happier if they weren't financially burdened down. People may have been happier if I didn't come to their lives and disrupt away. And whatever stuff or "contributions" I made would probably have been done by just another "someone else".

In other words, everything will still happen the way it should, with or without me. As in, my live in this world doesn't mean a thing at all. If I didn't exist, "someone else" will do whatever I'm supposed to do. If I didn't exist, I wouldn't be able to bring pain and hurt to the world. If I didn't exist, people will be happier since there is a one extra space available for them. All that my existence did was simply taking up space in this already over-crowded world.

My existence doesn't matter. Whether I die or live, it doesn't matter. And in this live, whether I was born or not, it doesn't matter too. Maybe it would have been a happier place without me around, who knows. But still, it really doesn't matter.

I continue living each day just to satisfy my own selfish needs and wants. And in that process, it hindered the lives of those around me. If I were never around to begin with, those lives would not have been obstructed and burdened by me.

They always say to think about the people that you care about, and the people that care about you. Unfortunately, it is pretty easy to substitute me with someone else. I'm dispensable by nature, just another person on the street.

Just another insignificant person.

2007-04-07T23:37:00.000+08:00

I've just re-read a story I first saw back in my secondary 2 year. Back then, the story had a huge impact on me. It made me wonder about the many little things in life, about my everyday routine, and most importantly, it made me wonder about myself. It motivated me enough start working hard and break out of the "poor academic results poverty cycle".

It wasn't because my results have started becoming bad again; it’s just that all these years I kept having an uneasy feeling because the story I was once captivated in wasn't concluded. It was like reading a novel half-way and then the book itself mysteriously disappeared. I was young and ignorant, so I wasn't really bothered by it. But the hunger for the ending remained after 3 years. Well, it isn't as dramatic as I make it sound, but it was still like an itch I just have to scratch.

And once again, I was immersed into the world of the story-teller, with the characters of the story so real I could have swore to know them personally, with environments so familiar I thought that I have been there before, and with scenarios so filled with truth I nearly believed I have been through them myself. It has been a while since I've read something that moved me and made me think not only about the story, but how it reflected my own story as well. The tale was a rather sad one. But it made me feel comfortable inside.

It was like visiting a relative's grave. The tombstone is never a pretty sight, but yet it brings emotions of tranquility and calmness. It made me remember how much I was affected by the work-of-art, and how it shaped and molded my character and personality to face the obstacles that were before me then, and how it produced the person I am now. I would have been a whole lot different if I have never encountered this narrative.

And just like it did before, I began to question myself all over again, about the little things in life, about my everyday routine and about myself. Until this one question hit me really hard, "What are you doing?" I could answer it almost immediately on a superficial level. But I know myself, whenever I begin asking questions to myself, I know that the answers I'm looking for never hold a superficial meaning. I knew the exact answer to the query. I just couldn't voice it out, even in my thoughts.

I complain about how much life has burdened me, but I all I have done is squeeze my eyes shut, lie there amidst the wreckage of my own making, waiting for someone to save me. I failed to see that I should be climbing out on my own instead. I failed to see that my inability to help myself is hindering others as well. I fail to wake myself up from this dream, or nightmare, to face the reality in front of me.

Masami Tsuda is an incredible story-teller. It’s rare to find something that can sway your emotions to such a great extend that it changes the person you are inside.

2007-03-30T21:55:00.000+08:00

Dreams are strange things. To me at least, they always serve to tell me about so many things, things which I have either chose to ignore, or simply forget about the moment I open my eyes, things which miraculously came true or have had its true meaning revealed with time.

As I grew older, I naturally had more responsibilities, became busier and my mind is constantly under stress. So much so, that it didn't have as much time and energy to play with me in dream land. My childhood was filled with dreams. It was my playground after deprived from the carefree environment I was blessed with while being overseas. Now, I'm probably in dream land once a week. Not a surprise since I only sleep 4 to 5 hours a day and I always return home tired.

But back then, my dreams always had a hidden meaning attached to it. Whether it was a premonition about something that will happen in the near or far future, or whether it had some sort of message from my subconscious mind. Probably they had a mixture of both, just that one aspect was more obvious than the other, but still, I could never tell or decipher its meaning. It only becomes apparent during the revelation of the premonition, when I'll go, "Hey, this happened to me somewhere before..." By then, it will be too late.

The problem with having premonitions is that I can never tell when it would happen. The problem with having coded messages in the form of dreams relayed to me is that I can never understand its true meaning or intention. The problem with having dreams is that I can never tell whether it is a premonition or a message to me, or if it is none at all and my mind was just messing around.

The early man treated dreams as another form of communication with God. Some of the modern man believes that dreaming is the soul leaving the human body, exploring the fabrics of time. Others believe it is seeing the subconscious mind at work, looking at the things that have been filtered out in everyday life and experiences together with the emotions and feelings felt in the process, linking them together and making sense out of them. Some believe that it is temporarily leaving for another world, until the alarm clock decides to ring. Whatever the truth, we will never know. Thus, the mysterious nature of dreams itself.

I had a strange dream recently. Actually, it was 2 weeks ago. I chose to shrug it off, just as I always did since young whenever I had weird dreams. But for the pass 2 weeks, it has been bothering me. I can't remember the details. The moment I opened my eyes, only fragments of the dream remained, most of it faded away, as though it never happened to begin with. But with just those few pieces of the puzzle, it haunted me like a bad memory.

I saw myself doing something... cruel, sinful, something that hurt the people, or person, I cared for. I know it was impossible for me to do something like that. It just goes against my character, my personality, and my principles and believes. But I saw myself do it, without qualms, without worries. I saw myself enjoying it.

It scared me.

Even though I brushed it off as a bad dream like sweeping dust from my shirt, the impression remained firmly, like the dirt imprint the dust left on my shirt. I tried to erase it from my memory, but every time I saw that person, flashbacks of the dream pop at the corner of my eye. Even now, I'm still having problems facing that dear friend of mine, that even though I did nothing to that person, I still felt as though I've done something grave.

I made me wonder about my own believe about dreams, disregarding all other theories that man made during his years of world dominance. Could it be that dreams reflect the person we are within?

We spend our days with a facade, blocking away the parts of us that we choose not to reveal to the people around us, and making up images to cover those parts away. Some call it the "public image"; some call it "putting on a mask". Whatever the name, it fundamentally blocks away the real person we are within.

We spend our days like that for weeks, months, years and even decades. We become accustomed to it, and naturally behave as we have done for those pass few years. Because it was never pointed to us as a sin to do so, and we have been surviving nicely all the while doing so. We become so accustomed to it, that we forget that we choose to put up the facade, and we become unconscious of that effort we put in, until it becomes like breathing to us. At times we forget that we need to inhale air even though we do it every few seconds.

That person that is blocked away remains hidden, secluded from the world. I not sure about other people, but that person in me scares me. If dreams are a way of connecting that person within with the personality on the outside, that must mean that the bad dream I experienced reflects his inner desires, his sinful cravings, and his cruel thoughts.

And since that person is a part of me, that must mean that dream shows my own inner desires, my own sinful cravings and my own cruel thoughts. Deep within me, I hold these feelings that I myself am not aware of. If the person within me suddenly takes over, that dream must be a demonstration of what he is truly capable of.

It scares me that I am condemned and corrupted, that the purity and tranquility I believed myself to be was simply a front. I realize that I am of an impure heart, and that every action, every decision I make, and every emotion I feel, is stained with evil intentions. No matter how much I believe that I have performed an action so genuine, that I have thought of something which was pure, that I have felt an emotion so truthful; deep within, it is actually contaminated with lust, greed, jealousy and selfishness.

How can I still say that it is what makes me human?

2007-02-20T01:03:00.000+08:00

I was late. I was always late. Not because I had a valid reason or excuse for being so; one part of me just refuses to be on time. I shouldn't have listened to that part of myself that day. Because that would have meant 5 minutes away from her, time which I should have treasured, time which I should have cherished. But she didn't mind, and being the old me back then, neither did I think of it as a crime or sin.

You only realised the true value of something once it has been taken away from you, when you desperately need it, hunger for it, or desire it the most. When you have been through that pain of starvation, of deprivation, and of rejection, that is when you know what that thing, or in this case, that someone is worth to you.

I haven't been on a Valentine Day date for 3 years. Not that it is a requirement; just that it is starting to get annoying.

But times have changed, people have changed, mindsets have changed. I have changed. I remembered a friend of mine said to me jokingly, "I remember the slacker Kenneth last year. This Kenneth change le, this is a different Kenneth." I knew he didn't mean much from it, but it involuntarily made me remember who I used to be.

He was a slacker, a sloth, believing in the values of hard work but was just too lazy to do so and somehow manage to show that trait with a smile that would stun even the most determined persuaders. He hardly did his work unless he was forced to, or when he absolutely needed to. And even so, he understood that completed work doesn't necessarily mean quality work; it just means fill up the blanks. And he did all that without a care in the world. To say he was living each day as a dream would be too extreme, but one could say that when everyone around him was running away from danger, he was simply strolling without worries.

I miss him so much. The surprising thing about him is that he managed to slack but still survived enough to make it all the way to the Junior College. If memory serves me well, he called it, "Slacking with brains." Where "brains" doesn't mean high IQ, but rather, knowing when is the right time to goof off, and when to be serious.

But like I said, I've changed. I don't slack as much as I used to anymore. I strive to complete my tutorials and assignments, even if it is to no avail most of the time. I work hard to give my best in everything I do. For a slacker to suddenly give so much output, thus my exhausted state. It’s not a wonder why people comment that I look tired, or I appear stressed, or I seem as though I'm becoming skinnier, given that I'm already underweight.

I have no idea why I choose to take the route of the hardworking and the determined. I have no clue to why I suddenly pump myself with so much dedication and motivation to give my all. I don't understand why I'm sacrificing so much when I can just stick to my old and easier methods of doing things, even though it is not to everyone's favour. I don't comprehend my development into adulthood, my growth to maturity, my aging process away from being a kid. Sometimes I wish I could relive my years as a kid just once.

Whatever my reasons, I've come to realise the difficulty of a slacker by heart to convert to a hard worker. To spend years conserving energy and not care about so many things, to using up all that energy to carry a heavy burden within a matter of days. It's not a wonder why I feel so drained out.

I wouldn't mind the feeling of exhaustion and fatigue. I wouldn't mind the lack of energy and the amount of work I have to go through. I wouldn't mind the pain and dread that I have to undertake. I was strong, I was capable, and I was ready. However, all my resolve, my dedication, my determination, crushed, by this simple fact: my best just isn't enough.

If anyone still reads my entries till the very end, if anyone still reads every word I write, if anyone still understands all that I say, which I highly doubt no-one ever does anymore, I say unto thee, this is the true reason for this post. That I have indeed given it my all, I have sacrificed almost everything I can, and I have worked my very hardest. However, it is just isn't enough, or more is still demanded out of me.

I strive so hard to do well in my studies, but yet, I'm still failing every test that comes and goes. I put on a facade that says I'm used to failing, but in truth I worry for my A levels. That no matter how much I studied, everything just disappears when the paper reaches my hand, everything I was so sure was right turned out to be wrong, everything became a mistake simply because of the small error I committed that resulted in the chaos effect. Thus, the failing grade. The pain and depression grows when I'm told that I'm not working hard enough, that I don't dedicate enough to my studies, that I show no interest and dedication.

I sacrifice my time, my sweat, my blood to my CCA, but I am still unable to satisfy the people I vowed to serve as stated in my oath during my investiture to be part of the "prestigious" Student Council; in fact they abhor me. The complains from undelivered flowers during the 14th, where they conveniently point their fingers to me, even though my say in the whole service itself was minimal. The feedback on how the angel and mortal game was useless and a total waste of time even though I did everything humanly possible with all the resources and power entitled to me, maybe even more. And the way they simply rip away the council poster on the vending machine after I spend hours working on it, ensuring that it serves the best it can in terms of variety and prices. All of that, while still able to put on a smile, even if it was just to cover away my worn out self.

I go out of my way to give a little something to the people who I care for and cherish. I didn't care about how much it cost to me, I didn't care about how much it took from me, and I didn't care if people told me if I was crazy for doing so. I wanted to do it, because when love becomes the reason, it surpasses all logic that I understand. I wasn’t expecting anything in return, but it becomes difficult to accept when those people just don't feel the same. When their appreciation is not shown in a manner that is honest and sincere and when it feels too rehearsed to be true, shown simply because of courtesy and kindness, nothing else. When people just aren't affected by what I have done for them that their hearts do not waver even a little at all. It makes me feel as though my existence is fragile.

I like rainy days. Not only because it cools the weather, nor is it because it is extremely comfortable to sleep in. But because they tend to reflect the mood within, that I'm not alone facing the downpour and gray sky.

One of these days, I am really going to snap.

2007-02-11T19:17:00.000+08:00

My alarm clock rang. I fumbled around the table beside me to shut it off, before it wakes up the entire family. Rubbing my eyes, I checked the time. It was another day, another grueling day, one filled with obstacles and tribulations, one that I desired to not wake up to. After facing so many days, I have wondered why I'm not getting used to it or getting accustomed to it. It's surprising that I'm still alive; it's a miracle that I'm still sane.

Or was I?

I must have watched way too much anime during my holidays, or maybe I'm just not getting enough sleep. But the nemesis that I've managed to block away returns at a time when least needed it. But he wasn't materialized in a way that he was walking next to me. He was more of like an inner voice, calling out, mocking me from the shadows, laughing at my incompetence, evident that he, even if just for a split second, want to take over me.

I managed to suppress him by constantly imagining myself fighting with him, with me emerging victorious each time we battled. That alone was enough to give me strength to keep myself from snapping. But over the pass few weeks, I saw myself losing. It is undeniable, he is getting stronger. And my battles outside my imaginary world were not helping one bit.

The reason why one feels weak, because he is unable to pull out strength when it is needed the most, or when it is demanded. And when that demand exceeds the amount I have to offer, I feel drained. It is as if I'm struggling through a desert with no water, and he simply walks over and mocks me. My anger, my frustration and my despair, he feeds on it all, and it pleases him. My weakness is his strength, my negative emotions are his source of encouragement, and my failures are his successes. The devil inside of me, how much more can I control him within? I'm like a thread pulled to the point of it being snapped at any moment without warning.

When someone provokes me, he joins in the fun. When I'm faced with failure, he pulls me in a way that it becomes extremely difficult to recover. And when I'm tired, he sucks out more energy from me. It is as if he was created to simply watch me suffer and to aggravate my pains.

People told me that when I'm tired or stressed, I become extremely quiet and appear to be in rage. I realized that it was simply because I was fighting him, resisting his desire to control, fearing that he would destroy everything around me, and hurt and provoke the people around me as well. But that fear alone gives him strength, and that fear alone is my weakness. Because he acknowledges my fear, he will do anything in his power to play and to experiment with it.

There is way too much demanded out of me. It’s like having to pay taxes after taxes and still get bugged by charity organizations to donate, or rather in this case, forced to donate. And when my every dollar and every cent is robbed away from me, they wonder if I'm working at all since I'm always without money, and ponder if I'm worth anything at all. And when I'm finally able to enjoy my own reward, they realize that they can still suck away a little more from me. Thus, the poverty cycle.

He enjoys seeing me poor. He enjoys looking at me tired. He enjoys more than anything else, to watch me weak, because that's when he is strongest. If this keeps up, it is only a matter of time before he releases himself from the prison I kept him in, not like the prison would do any good in constraining him. I'm still able to control myself because he allows me to.

Then again, why wouldn't he? After all, observing my fall when it is me controlling and he meddling is his entertainment. I picture it as I'm the master of this mind, this body and this soul that I have, but he knows that I've come to realize, it was actually the other way around. He was in control, he was the master, and he was king of me.

Because it was him who created me.

The me I am now is simply a facade, a personality, a character that was never meant to exist, created by him, for a reason that I could or would never understand. Now I understand why I fear change. It wasn't because I didn't wish to change into someone of a terrible nature. It was because I feared of me being erased away, that my existence will vanish, that I will be of no more. I was simply a tool, or rather a toy for his pleasure. And he knows that I realized all of this.

Not having any dreams during this past month must be a sign of his coming.

But I believe, sometimes creations can be better than the creator itself, especially if the creator has no idea what he was doing, especially if he thinks he is playing God. I believe in change, that somehow, he will be the one erased away, and I would be the new king to reign. I believe that my existence is the process of change, that him being the old me, will decay away, and the new me, will come into play. I believe that he becoming stronger is a sign that he is becoming desperate as well.

Just that sign of hope and faith alone, is his weakness.

And so, let the fight continue.

2007-01-26T23:33:00.000+08:00

The first month is almost over. Orientation came and went, and my event which I spent almost 4 months planning went surprisingly well, except for the few hiccups that occurred here and there. But the moment it began to rain once my event was over, it was as if I saw the big guy from above smiling at me. He heard my prayer of holding the rain back a little longer that day, and thanks to that, my work paid off.

It was as if all the worries of the world have been taken away from me and I was satisfied that it was all over. I didn't care about whether it went well or not, all that mattered was that I was still alive, and that I could finally breathe. I was free. Or so I thought.

You know that school is reverting back to it's old routine when homework just never seem to finish, your bed is getting stronger in holding you back from waking up every morning, and lecturers and teachers just speak a totally different language to their students. It’s the same old routine every single year. I realized about its repetitive and recurring nature since the beginning of my secondary 3 year. This time, I realized it is the last time I'm ever going to see that pattern. I'm just not ready to let go.

Even though I was no stranger to the stress and workload presented to me, I can just never seem to grow immune or accustomed to it. Every single day in school is exhausting, and I always return home tired. After resting for an hour, I force myself to do my homework, which somehow never seems to deplete no matter how much I work, and end up sleeping way pass midnight. I wake up every day, feeling more lethargic than the day before, dragging myself from place to place, only to see it repeat over and over again. Except that each time it repeats, a part of my strength is taken away from me.

There are only a limited number of times a wheel can spin, before it loses control.

The trouble of having such an adventurous CCA is that it never seems to help your condition, but make it worse than it already is. The problem with people is that they just love the thrill of losing control, that’s why you have your roller coasters and race cars. But once they finally acknowledge that they have no way of piloting where to go and realize that they are in deep shit, the thrill becomes no laughing matter.

It's funny how I'm expected to be everywhere at a time. And when "No" just won't be accepted as an answer, other things get sacrificed along the way; things like my studies, my health, my emotional and mental state, or even the worry of my parents.

The punch line comes when every aspect of my life collapses. Amidst juggling the balls, one of them drops. Desperate to keep them all in the air, I try to catch that one ball, resulting in losing the rest of the balls.

The one thing that depresses me more than anything else, is that no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you work, no matter how hard you push yourself, your best just isn't enough. It sucks to see that you put in so much effort for something, and yet it isn't able to make the cut. It sucks even harder when you realize the problem lies within yourself, that your lack of power and ability caused not only yours, but the downfall of others as well. It sucks just as bad when you work your hardest, sacrificing almost all you have, but it ended up being unappreciated anyway, as though all you have done is worth nothing at all.

My studies are suffering. And my council projects are too far from completion. When these two go hand in hand, things become difficult. In the end, it all boils down to my incompetence, that I'm not good enough, and that no matter how much I fight, I just can't seem to win. I'm weak.

I wear a facade everyday that blocks out the confusion and chaos within me. I try my best to appear calm, and that everything is under control, and all I need to do is to just will it, and everything will be back to normal. It’s a front I put up, an illusion used to blind myself, and possibly the people surround me as well.

I didn't even realize about it. I thought I have always been myself for who I am all along. I was wrong. I appear to be strong, but I'm weak inside. I appear to be confident, but I live in fear. I appear to be in control, but I'm confused with everything that is happening.

That day, things went ugly. Proposals were rejected brutally, and test results disappointed expectations. Blood and sweat, hard work and sacrifice, all wasted simply because it just wasn't good enough. And for some reason, I just couldn't revert myself back to who I am. I could actually feel my face crumbling to pieces, while I so desperately tried to hold them together. Deep inside of me, I kept hearing a younger version of me crying. But I couldn't approach him, simply because I wasn't inside me, but outside facing the world, attempting to convince everyone that I was doing fine.

I wasn't.

It confuses me how people console others that regret shouldn't be felt because they have done their best. But my best just isn't enough, my best didn't work out, my best didn't improve anything at all, but made things worse. How can I not regret about my lack of strength, about my weakness, about the wrong that I have done.

In my dreams, I keep seeing that boy. He looks so sad, and I just want give him a hug, tell him that it will all be okay, and that everything will work out somehow. But for some reason, I can't reach out to him. And all I can do is just watch.

I'm weak. I can't even help myself.

2007-01-13T20:07:00.000+08:00

One of the reasons why frequent travelers constantly persuade others to cross their country's borders every one in a while, so that they can be cured from the myopia that staying at home has cursed them with, even if the cure is only temporary. It's a little late for me to write about this, given that I've been home since more than 2 weeks ago. But you only tend to realise the importance of what you have seen after a prolonged period of time, after you dedicated yourself to give it some thought and bothered to learn the lessons attached to it.

It was a holiday; not some field trip to learn about the country nor was it some pilgrimage. We were just there to spend some family time together, time which was robbed away from us due to our own individual commitments and schedules.

On the surface, I wasn't too keen on going, because of the work I would be leaving behind, both council and school, considering that it was only a week before school re-opens and orientation begins. Another reason why I wasn't as excited as I should be was probably because it would have been the fifth time I would be in Thailand, excluding the length of time when I was actually conceived there.

Under that surface and behind the facade, I didn't mind. Because it would be only a matter of time before I get separated from my family due to obligations as a male, or for some other unforeseen reason. The number of holidays I will be spending with my family like this are becoming limited and few.

It made me realise about the years that as passed by us as a family, that the family no longer contained children but young adults, and that the term "retirement" will become a reality and not simply a plan. I feel old. My sister feels the same. My parents are getting old.

Watching the people you look up to since birth get old is bittersweet.

My father and I were at a guitar shop in Paragon, one of the shopping malls in Bangkok which sells Ferraris and Lamborghinis in a store. We were there to buy a pick for the guitar since ours broke due to my recent constant use. It wasn't that we couldn't get one back home, we were just passing by so might as well spend the few minutes.

While my father was choosing picks, my eyes were darting around the shop, catching glimpses of guitars on display before landing on a particular one at the back of the store. I made my way and took it down, and strummed a few notes. That was when I fell in love with every sound it produced, hynotised by its magic.

"Dad, can we buy a guitar?" I said, turning around to face him. He knew I was joking, and all I wanted was to show him enchanted artifact. He smiled and played a song on the guitar. Upon returning the musical instrument back to the display, he saw the price. "Quite expensive eh," he commented in Chinese.

"Bound to be, it's a nice guitar," I chuckled. He looked at me with those father's eyes. I don't know what to call it, but it's that type of expression that only a father would give his son, the type of expression that I can't describe in words, it was that type of expression. With those eyes, he said to me, "If your 'A' levels do well, I'll buy a guitar for you."

"Yeah right, if my 'A' levels do well, I want a car!" I retorted jokingly. My father looked away, and smiled again. "Nah, I don't have that kind of money..."

It was an innocent conversation, between father and son. But behind the jokes and between the lines, I knew my father was concerned for my future. He is willing to do anything he possibly can to ensure smooth sails for me, even if it means spending his last dollar on me. However he knew, and I'm sure he knows that I myself realise this, that from here on out, no matter how much he does, it is all entirely up to me, and that nothing in his power as a father, as a guardian, nor as a friend can he do anything to ensure that I do the right thing.

Because by now, I'm already expected to know what is the right thing, and do that right thing.

I will not disappoint my parents.

2006-12-23T01:56:00.000+08:00

It's the jolly time of the year again, with richly decorated pine trees, neatly wrapped presents of a variety of shapes, sizes and colour, and of course, it wouldn't be a complete picture without snow; even if snow in the local context would mean an endless downpour.

Christmas is a sad time of the year. Don't get me wrong, I've never always disliked the seasonal celebration. Family gatherings, good food, the happy smiles whether or not they were forced on or purely sincere, and warmth of shaking someone's hand, greeting each other in a way that can only be used once every year, "Merry Christmas..."

You know when you have grown out of your age and people expect you to become an adult when you just don't receive the things you wish for during Christmas. No more toys from the store, no more hope of receiving something useful, neither is there something that wouldn't be classified as "cheapskate". And when you finally realize the presents you get were given was only because of a traditional practice, its time to grow up. Sometimes I just wish I was a kid again.

I know, it’s about the spirit of giving, not simply receiving, but back then I was less than 10 years old, what did I know?

25th December remind me that school will be starting soon. After a month long break from whatever routine that I was trapped in, that message just hits me in the gut where it feels the most painful. Its like an alarm clock ringing when you are reaching the climax to your dream, like a fire drill during a movie, when your computer crashes just before you reach your high score. It feels a lot more fucked up when you re-learn a term that you never wish to have existed, "Holiday Homework". Seriously, the person who invented such a phrase ought to die a painful death.

Christmas is a sad time of the year. If it wasn't for Christmas itself to exist or if Jesus chose a different day to be born, I would be in a state of depression every December. It may be a personal comment for me to say this, but how could anyone be happy at a time like this? The sky looks bleak every morning, the rain bombards the streets every hour, and the New Year which brings more hardship is just waiting around the corner. Yeah, Happy New Year to you too.

It is at the end of the year when I involuntarily reflect upon myself, look back at my memories, recall the past and remember my history. I would become like a 3 year old kid, walking around a huge dusty antique library, with every book on the shelf as a memoir of each event I have been through, each emotion I have felt, and each lesson I have learnt. Gingerly, I would pull out one of those old books at random, collapse on the floor, and glance through the pages.

And with each book I read, I grew older. And I kept aging until I became who I am now, a 17 year old boy, standing at a height of almost 6 feet, angered and disappointed at myself, regretting the choices I made in my life, and simply not looking forward to a new year, because with that new year, it will bring more choices that I will have to make. Only that those choices will affect the people around me also, and that the burden they carry is heavier, and I would end up regretting those decisions somehow, no matter how careful or how meticulous I am.

But that's how life is. If life sucks, I just got to learn to suck it up with it. I like my life; I just don't like the world I live in and this "system" that I'm trapped in.

"C'mon Kenny, be happy and just appreciate what you have..." Sure, I like everything around me, and if an aspect of that is taken away from me, no matter how small, I would be deeply hurt. But that's what makes life suck even more doesn't it. Sometimes I wonder if I only live to die one of these days.

It must be the weather affecting my mood. Which explains why I'm always this moody every end of the year, since every time this year, it always rains. Not that it's a bad thing; I like the rain, especially the windy period just before it rains. It allows me to feel at ease, and just express myself while being tranquil at the same time.

I'm not going to enjoy my time overseas; or at least not as much as I would hope for. How can anyone with so much on the line, with so much left undone, with so many worries I'm unconsciously bringing along?

If only God would allow time to just stop...

2006-12-15T02:00:00.000+08:00

Like what I told Rowena, I was an idiot. I couldn't bring myself to start on homework or on whatever chores and tasks that need my attention. So I continued my journey back to my past, reading all my historical archives, and I realized that I was an idiot.

"The past is like a broken mirror. As you put the pieces together, you cut yourself, your image shifts with it and you change with it.
It drives you mad, pushing you on. It could set you free."

But I don't mean idiot as an utterly foolish or senseless person. I knew my surroundings well and understood every scenario and situation I was in; far from what one would consider as "senseless". And as far as I'm concerned, I'm no fool. I meant idiot in a generic term, because I just didn't know what else to call it.

Then again, that would be what everyone would call it otherwise; that as long as it is something that does not follow their own logic or the basic standards of the world, that as long as it is something that they cannot understand, that goes against the flow of being normal, it would be exiled and considered as an abnormality. Thus, the idiot.

In the land of sheep, where all is white, and all one can see is a blanket of purity that spreads over the horizon. Suddenly, a black spot appears. Due to the contrast of black and white, the black sheep is immediately an outcast, classified as an unnatural being without delay, and because it is difficult to comprehend how a black sheep is able to appear in a herd of only pure white cattle, it is then banished from the herd. Because it is unable to produce white wool, the idiot is slaughtered, and served as lamb chop, while its "sane" brothers remain untouched. It was such an idiot to remain black, while it could have been born white. Or at least grey, then the contrast wouldn't be so obvious.

In the land of the blind, where all one sees is pitch black darkness and not know what colour, shape, or light looks like, the one-eyed man is king. Because he is different, unique and special, and obviously knows something that the others around him don't. The one-eyed man, blessed with vision unlike his brothers, is cursed to observe them suffer without the sense of sight, looking at them unintentionally bumping into one another, watching the misunderstandings caused because they can't see. The king is then regretful, wishing that he was never cursed with the eye, that since he has it he has no choice but to help every one of his brethren, no matter how much pain and suffering he has to go through. He was an idiot to be able to see what his "sane" brothers could not.

In a foreign country, a tourist is lost. Unfortunately, he doesn't speak any language other than his native tongue. He asks the locals for directions, hoping that they will point him in the right direction. He speaks with the one language he knows, but the locals felt as though he was insulting them, due to the nature of the language that makes it appear vulgar. The locals ignore him, walk away from him, and left him to suffer. The lost soul continues to approach person after person, begging for help. However, no one would listen to him nor help him. The tourist was such an idiot to get lost in a foreign land. He was an idiot to travel to the country in the first place, and an idiot for not learning another language that could help him.

I was an idiot, and I still am. I was an idiot to even publish this entry. Then again, so are all of us. We are all idiots to the world, just that we cover away that bit of us, such that we can be considered sane, so that we can be accepted by the world and by the society that we live in. Sadly, we spend so much time to cover it away, that we sometimes forget that we are idiots. Or perhaps we rather forget that we are idiots in the first place, because the world doesn't like idiots too much, and the best way to not be one is to completely forget being one.

It's even sadder that the people who accept the idiot within them is exiled, that the people are outcasts for being who they are, that the people without a proper facade or mask is considered as an abnormality. If the world is completely made up of idiots, being an idiot wouldn't be an abnormality, while being normal in that idiotic world would then be considered to be utterly foolish or senseless.

I am an idiot. And so are you. Again, I mean idiot in a generic form, because I don't know what else to call it.

2006-12-14T00:10:00.000+08:00

I'm down with writer's block again; blessed with the desire and will to write, but cursed with the lack of inspiration and flow of words. Hope it clears out soon. I'm writing this down before I burst from frustration of wanting to pen something down, but not knowing exactly what to write on.

Anyway I was reading a couple of my entries posted in my campusmoblog that were not published here. I stumbled across an entry that I held extremely close to my heart, but somehow I just forgot about it. Or perhaps I haven't, which explains why I was searching so furiously. Anyway, I just want to post it here, so that when I look through my past entries on blogspot, I won't miss this one out.

"Debut entry (falling in, and out, of love)

Posted by Dimitre
Posted @ [4 Oct 2005, 12:01:11 AM]

Hoho, I'm on a new group blog, lol =P.

Well, actually I wanted to join this because of the topic about "love". Really intriguing if you ask me, because the moment I gave a thought about the day I did fall, it really brought back a number of memories; typically those that I wish to forget and yet remember at the same time. I know, it’s rather contradictory.

Anyway, I was in secondary 2 back then. I was given the impression that the impending end-year exams then would decide the fate of my O level examination, since it was a test to see if I would be taking pure sciences. She didn't occur to me as someone special once I found out who she was. Average name, average look, even average size if you know what I mean.

But there was something about her. Until now I can't seem to place my finger on what exactly it was. I know, its pretty cliché for me to say this, but there really was something. Maybe it was the way she smiled, or the way her eyes glistened whenever she looked at my direction. And it was because of that something, that some how sparked a sense of curiosity in me.

She always looked so happy and cheerful and outgoing whenever I saw her. Little did I know back then that she came from more or less a broken life. Could it be that she was acting all the happiness in her, because she sure did a good job. I remembered that laugh, that smile and those bright eyes that flashes each time she giggles. That year was a terrible time for me; people discriminated me, mistreated me, and more or less, sort of bullied me.

Mainly because I came from a "lower" end class, thus it was commonly believed that I would hardly amount to anything. And because of that common believe, I was set to prove everyone wrong. Now that I think about it, I guess I should be thankful for them believing in such, because there wouldn't be any other stronger motivation for me to suddenly study for my exams and get myself a place in a pure science class.

My cocky personality back then and the fact that I made such a big issue about my marks made me sort of deserving all that the verbal thrashing from my classmates, but she never really got involved in any of those "bully sessions". I guess that made her kind of special.

Then I got curious, and wanted to know more about her. How was it that she managed to smile each time I looked at her in class and outside class? Did she have hesitations and a sense of loneliness like me too? The more I thought about it, the more curious I got, and the deeper I went. Before I knew it, I realized that I had an infatuation on her, just a small crush. I have crushes like that a million times so I thought it wasn't a big deal and just ignored it.

A stupid thing to do, that infatuation was a warning to me of what’s about to come, but I ignored it and thought it was just something I have been through all the time. And soon, the curiosity of just finding out more about her became a desire of wanting her. I wanted those eyes to look at me. And that slight crush I had on her became larger then I expected.

Before I knew it, I became jealous whenever she was happy being with someone else, especially a boy. Jealous of the fact that the boy wasn't me. Jealously, an emotion so powerful that it tends to break hearts, but when it fails, it makes the desire for something stronger. I have always been in control, so I sort of forced myself to stop my feelings for her. Until now, I'm not sure whether it did actually stop or not. Probably not. Because when she got my number and sms-ed me for the first time, I felt my heart skipped a beat. When a friend told me that she wanted to ask me out, my heart skipped two beats. When that friend added that she kept talking about me, my heart skipped three beats. When she actually asked me out in person, my heart stopped.

Well, that kind of sums up how I fell for her, and how miraculously we became a couple. I posted the above section of this entry before in my previous blog, so I decided to repost it here, just to remind myself of a few memories I wanted to keep in touch with.

It is ironic how long the couples of today actually last. They can range from a length or 3 years, 1 year, 6 months, 2 weeks, 5 days, 24 hours? I guess maybe I'm just delusional. We lasted for a period of a full year.

It seems really strange, but our first date as "steads" was during a school choir concert. It ended a year later, on the same concert at Victoria Concert Hall. Actually, it ended earlier; I just made the message clear to her on that day.

The memories we had together remain firmly on my mind as though a scar has been made on my soul. I remembered the first date we had, the first time we held hands, the first time she placed her head on my shoulder, the first time we kissed, and especially the first time we kissed. But the memory that remain firm as ever, just like any other couple, was the time we broke up.

I couldn't bring myself to look at her. She knew, and so did I, that both of us are just drifting and fading away. The spark that held us together just didn't ignite anymore. And the cracks between us were too obvious to be ignored. I think she was anticipating a break-up soon, because I was anticipating one, and our feelings for such negative things were somehow always mutual.

It’s even bringing me heartaches just typing this down, such that I can't seem to choose the right words to express myself. It seems weird that she seemed very average when I first saw her, because on that night, she appeared very unique and special to me. I hid my tears from there, just like any guy would do. I ended up crying myself to sleep that night.

I'm not sure how she handled the situation, because we lost contact with each other after that night. But in school, she seems to be taking it ok. For all I know she maybe just acting up all that happiness in her, just like before. One thing still remains certain, her average look wasn't as average as before any more. There was beauty behind that facade and yet, sadness in it at the same time.

It may seem typical for one who suffer the pains of break-up to remember memories of one's ex, and feel sadness inside one's heart. Or at least that was what I thought would happen. Little was I conscious of the fact that I was so wrong. When I think back about her, the very first memory that flashes across my mind was that very day she offered me a piece of tissue paper to wipe my tears on. It was during my secondary 2 year, and I cried just because I missed the A1 grade for my mathematics paper by 1 mark.

Just like what a mother would do to her child, she would sit beside me and pat my back, trying to feed words of encouragement to me. That memory didn't bring sadness like what I used to believe, but rather a sense of tranquility that I crave for.

Well, just to end it all off, I personally believe each and every one of us should experience the pain of heartbreak during our journey of growing up to become adults. It somehow touches a person deep inside you that you never thought to have existed in the first place, opens your eyes to the world, makes you stronger, and makes you more mature at the same time. It allows you to become appreciative of the things around you, and somehow, all that moulds you into a better person than you already are now..."

Notice the difference in writting style. My my, have I changed.

2006-12-09T21:57:00.000+08:00

Time is an interesting thing. I'm not even sure if it can be considered a thing. But its never-stopping feature never seizes to amaze me. It moves constantly, bit by bit, cutting away our lives the moment we inhaled our very first breathe and gave our very first cry to the world. Watch it move and it appears to slow down; ignore it and it will speed by you. Forget about it, and you will be caught off guard; I know it from personal experience.

It's December already. And just a moment ago, I thought I was still having war with the "O" levels. All that was left in that war were the nightmares and dreams that linger in my sleep, and the destruction left behind by the violence, the punishment for my mistake and the regretful feeling of "Oh Fuck I should have so done that..."

A couple of years back, Decembers were always anticipated with great vigor and excitement, mainly because it marks the beginning of a school-less, routine-less and homework-less life. Unfortunately, amidst all the high hopes and enthusiasm, I tend to forget that Decembers were extremely difficult to go through, because boredom would somehow find a way to inject itself into me, and the colourful world that I had looked forward to would be blurred into a jaded shade of grey. The irony is that it happens on every single year, without fail. And when the desolate vision is once again coloured with stress and pressure during the start of a new year in school, I begin to miss the black and white world I used to live in.

It's hard to say the same for this year though. Perhaps I have become immune to grey Decembers, or perhaps the colours still have yet to smudge into a murky shade, considering that I'm still serving my obligations, even though the calendar states that it is a school holiday, and there are still chores I have yet to undertake or address. Sometimes I wish my life wouldn't be weighed down with so many complications.

Then again, December is still called the "season to be jolly". With the festive mood it naturally brings, it's an ideal time to catch up with the old cliques and acquaintances, to just meet up and gather together, even though there is nothing much to talk about anymore and that all the reunion did was remind you, and possibly the other party, why you guys simply drifted away.

Christmas is coming. It has been a while since I've spent time with my family. Even though I appear as though I'm not interested in the family outings, deep within me, I treasure every second of it. For a reason I can never understand, I simply play the role of a rebellious son, although I hope I just don't get carried away while doing so.

Decembers remind me that I stand at the end of the year. Just by being aware of that, I begin to recall my past, my memories and all that I have been through in the year, maybe even beyond what I have been through this year. I begin to remember who I was, what I used to be like. And then compare it with who I am now. It frustrates me, that each year that go by, I have committed an unforgivable sin, that I have created an irremovable flaw in me, that the pure white paper I used to possess is now stained with an inerasable stain.

I have changed, I am now taller and I look slightly different. But I have not matured, I have not gained in wisdom and I have not grown in strength. It is as if I have wasted another year, simply idle away my time, and did nothing at all, that the year 2006 meant nothing to me other than obtaining 10 points for my "O" levels, making an irrational decision and moving to a new school. And then, everything else is a blank, as if I were writing my accomplishments and conquests for the year, only to generate that one sentence to sum everything up.

I guess I'm just not ready to meet a new year. Then again, I was never ready to meet a new year ever since my disappointment in my PSLE results. The idea of "A" levels awaiting me is giving me the creeps.

I'm just not ready.

2006-12-08T18:43:00.000+08:00

And vola, a new blog skin, completed in 3 hours using Photoshop and notepad. Nicely done if I should say so myself; given that it was already midnight when I started working on this. I was replanning the routes for MMM using Photoshop until the urge to design something came up. Design and layout is pretty simple, but I hope the feel isn't as empty as my previous skin.

I must be having a serious case of writer's block, because I want to write about something but somehow the words just wouldn't flow. Hope it clears out soon.

2006-12-03T16:48:00.000+08:00

She was crying. Why? I couldn't seem to understand the situation at all. She crouched down and gave me a hug, then stood up and did the same to my sister who was standing next to me. "Look after your brother," She said to her, before turning and walking away from us. I was 6 years old back then, in a foreign land, and we were far from home, far being together as a whole family.

A few of my classmates and I sent a friend off at the airport yesterday. As she was walking towards the departure hall, a memory which I have buried deep inside of me revived itself. For that split second, instead of seeing her walk away, I saw a younger version of me, holding my sister's hand walking away from our mother; only that the scene was not from Changi airport.

The sudden flashback caught me off-guard, and shook my balance slightly. When I regained my composure, I carried on acting as if nothing happened at all. But within the synapse of my mind, I continued searching and digging up my past.

All I ever told myself, and probably others as well, is that I spend my growing up years overseas due to my father's job at that time. Being unique in that area, I thought of it as a blessing, to be able to travel and be exposed to a variety of things at such a young age; and again, probably others thought of it as the same. It was all that I ever told myself, and I never dared to venture deeper.

Yesterday's flashback reminded me why my father quit his job in the first place. My childhood was a blessing only because I portrayed it to be. But with every blessing comes a curse because of the balance. We were always away from our home, from our loved ones, and we were forced to fend for ourselves in a foreign land, where the locals in those countries were not as friendly as those at home. And at times, we couldn't be together as a family, because of the Singaporean education my sister and I were trapped in; we often had to be separated from Daddy.

Free first class tickets to anywhere in the world every year don't seem to be such a worthy job bonus any more.

It was the departures that hurt us more than anything else. And it was the departures that we couldn't stand. Yesterday, half of her family was teary-eyed just before they left. It was the exact same pain we felt through on every occasion we had to be torn apart, only that back then, both my sister and I didn't have classmates to support us and give encouragement to us.

Life is sadistic at times. We get all the blessings in the world at one point, and just before we realize what hit us, it takes them away just as easily, if not even faster than we earned them. We all comfort ourselves that we will see our loved ones and friends again, since the separation is only temporary. But it’s the same as detaching one of the limbs for a few weeks; the detachment process is painful.

Just about 2 years ago, when I told her that we should go our separate ways, it was one of the most painful departures I have come to felt. The ones that my family went through don’t really count since I was too young to understand what was going on to begin with anyway. It amazes me how I actually felt nothing at all. It was only when I entered my room, and I was sure my whole family was asleep, that the pain started pouring out, and began to cry myself to sleep.

During the PSLE era, my grandmother passed away. My parents didn't tell me anything until I came home from hanging out with my friends to mark to end of the exams, in fear that it would affect me. I stood next to her coffin, not knowing how I should react. I was still a kid, and looking at her sleeping peacefully in her death bed, I just couldn't believe that she was dead, that I could still smile and behave as though nothing had happened at all. The pain of her departure only came during Chinese New Year, when she was no where to be found, and when the painful truth that she left us all hit me at last. And the pain was more than just not being able to receive Hong Baos from her anymore.

During that same year, when we all had to move on to a new chapter of our lives and start anew in a new school, I was separated from the people whom I have grown to cherish and love, or rather a person whom I have grown to love and cherish, a person whom I could call a friend.

Needless to say, PSLE separated us, and he managed to get into a reasonable school, one that Tao Nan people are expected to go to. As for me, I got myself into the minority few who disgraced the school in a way. Obviously, in two different schools, living in two different locations on the island, and insane school timetables just made contact difficult. The rest of the story should be kind of apparent.

Back then, he was what I could call a best friend, and I was someone who he can do the same. It seems ironic that it is only when we were most ignorant of the world that we actually know the true meaning of friendship. The older we grow, the crueler we become. Two different schools have two different systems, and that will more or less produce two different people. I have grown into the misunderstood "piakia", and he has become someone of a different nature altogether, someone who, more or less, abhors people of my type.

Watching her walk away from us into the departure hall, it made me realize, pretty soon, we will be all moving on with life. How many of us will remain together? How many of us will stay in contact with each other? How many of us will even recognize each other on the street, or on the newspaper when one of us does something drastic in the future? It is inevitable, that we will all be separated somehow.

Back in my first 3 months, someone said to me that he didn't wish to make any close friends, because it is only for 2 years. As much as I felt like laughing in his face, I kind of understand where he was coming from as well. Departures won't be so painful if there weren't even attachments to begin with.

I am guilty for not writing about my class in my entries, or at least not as much as my other classmates. Now that I have, I'm really sorry to all for writing such a touchy topic. I guess it's the time of the year, when nostalgia hits every one of us, and we are reminded of the past just before the year ends.

That night when we all returned to our respective homes, I kept having this uneasy feeling, but brushed it away as the lack of sleep. After typing down all this, I've come to realize, that the uneasy feeling, was because of worry of the future. The kid, who resides within me, tugged my sleeve, begging me not to loose any of these people. People whom I have come to love and cherish. People whom I wish and hope that the cliché title of "friends for life" will still be able to exist.

Life is sadistic at times.

2006-11-30T22:57:00.000+08:00

The one thing that differentiates living from existence, which makes this fucked up world less fucked up. I never really placed much effort in thinking about it, simply because I've always been doing so, whether it was intentional or not. And now that I am thinking about it, everyone who has the ability to think intellectually has been doing the same.

What do I want? For some reason, that question baffles me on every occasion. About 2 years ago, my girlfriend then asked me the exact same question a few weeks just before my birthday. All I could do was smile, looked deep into her eyes and whispered cheekily, "you". It was an honest reply, even though I was sure that wasn't the answer she was looking for. But back then we were secondary school kids, what could she get me? A car? A house? An island where the sun never sets? A loving wife with kids? Not that the latter was completely impossible, but well...

Back in my primary school years, similar forms of query pop during the pre-Christmas period. My parents, trying their best to give me a normal childhood, would look upon me with beaming faces, waiting for my answer. Even then, blessed with innocence and ignorance of the world, I couldn't answer them. I would cough up the occasional "A new toy!" or "McDonalds!", but I knew that those wouldn't satisfy me completely; considering that I was already aware that it would be a matter of time before something new would hit the stores, or I become sick of burgers and fries.

Pasir Ris Park is one of the best places to see stars; that is if it is a clear night to begin with, I know it from personal experience. Since my overseas kindergarten years, I have always associated stars as a symbol and a means to grant wishes, to gain something you want, even if that something cannot be gained through the power of money. I've always wondered why, but that ideology stayed with me even through my teenage years, and I have never seriously considered it to be a childish thought; even though I conscious of the fact that the origin of that idea came from the black box at home.

"Star light, Star bright.
First star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might.
Have the wish I wish tonight."

And then, that's where I would get stuck. The scene was perfect, with the gentle breeze, the calm chilled air, and the soft silence in the atmosphere, together with the one lone bright star in the dark night sky, sitting there, waiting impatiently for my request. Unfortunately, I just didn't know what to ask for. Or rather, there were too many things to ask for, that even if I simply pointed out one of them, it just wouldn't do without the others.

I was baptized just early this year. Being part of the Christian family, I was endowed with the gift of prayer, or so I was told. Unfortunately, apart from the standard few lines of forgiveness of sins and for the welfare of those around me, I just didn't know what to request for. I mean I still pray for my safety and for the strength to overcome life's obstacles and all. But still, there is this one thing that I want, this one thing that would satisfy every desire, every demand and every craving. The want to end all wants. The bad news is that I just don't know what that want is, or how to even get it.

A brand new computer? A more fashionable wardrobe? An endless supply of money? Good grades? To be out of the education system completely? A day to live without holding back anything? For my parents to be happy? That I would never hurt or provoke anyone ever again? World peace? The Singaporean dream?

Its as if I was just walking on the street and someone just grabbed me by my collar, pulled me into his face and started shouting at me, "What do you want?!" And all I could do was just show a scared expression, hinting that I was confused by his actions. While behind that facade, I was lost for words, not knowing how to answer him in a way that would be completely truthful.

In the end, all I can satisfy myself with is the thought that all I want is to not want anything. For as long as I demand for something, I will never be satisfied until I get it. And the problem of wanting something is the fear of losing it, or never getting it in the first place. That fear drives one weak. Then again, it is that fear that makes us all living, and not just existing.

But still, is that really what I want?

2006-11-29T21:29:00.000+08:00

I should have penned this down a lot sooner, but the inspiration and the time never seemed to come. Even now, it still hasn't; I got work to do, but I'm just procrastinating, and forcing myself to write this, before I forget all about it, or before I become too reluctant to do so.

Orientation Group Leader Camp; it has a nice ring to it, although it’s difficult for me to say the same about preparing for it. For some sadistic reason, I was blessed to work on an 8 hour event out of school. Just by the phrases "8 hour event" and "out of school", it already speaks volumes on the challenge I have installed for me. But well, being the idiot I've always been, I just take it on anyway, thinking that everything would work out in the end.

Unfortunately, I tend to forget everything in between the beginning and the end. To keep the long story short, planning and simulating the procedures in my head was an extremely exhausting thing to do. It's a miracle that I've managed to maintain my sanity till now; that is if I was still sane to take up the project in the first place.

Everything would be perfect, everything would be flawless. I kept telling myself that over and over the night before OGL camp. I had to; otherwise I won't be able to sleep at all. I blocked out all thoughts of failure and disasters, preventing myself from panicking. But deep inside, I knew something would go wrong. It was a gut feel, and my gut feels rarely turn out wrong. Still, I just didn't allow myself to believe it.

2nd day of camp was the execution of my event, in other words, the time for me to take the stage and show the world my performance. Everything went as planned, if not, better than planned. Everyone knew what to do and where to go, and everything went like clock-work. But I still felt as though something wasn't right, as if everything was going too smooth.

As always, my gut feel was right. In school, where I was stationed, it was super hot, but almost everywhere else outside of school, I kept getting reports of daunting clouds looming above them. No, I couldn't believe them. The event must press on, everything will go as planned, and nothing will ruin anything at all.

There is a limit to how much you can lie to yourself; especially when everyone else keeps feeding you the painful truth, and when you just can't keep your mouth shut any longer. The heavy downpour reflected the mood in my heart, and for a second, I was at lost. No, for the entire hour, I was at lost. I was a wreck, not knowing what to do, while my people were out there, battling the harsh weather. I was fighting with the chaos within myself, to keep calm and to think. I had to think, but my mind won't let me.

I fought with both myself and the forces of Mother Nature for the next gruesome 8 hours. My committee members and I were literally planning a battlefield, predicting when the next cloud will strike, and making preparations for the next assault. The me on the surface managed to pull it off, somehow. But I knew, my event was a failure, simply because I didn't want to believe such a thing would happen.

In the end, the teacher advisers thought it went well, considering that everyone returned safely and on time, and that no one got injured throughout the ordeal. But the feedback I received begged to differ. Almost every flaw pointed out, every mistake explained, was simply because I didn't plan well enough. The root of every problem, every miscalculation was me. I could even sense their vibes of curses and swears at me.

I managed to hold a strong facade. But the me inside got frustrated, that every effort I placed, every sacrifice I made and every drop of blood I shed wasn't worth it at all. As though every extra mile I went for the success of the event, just wasn't enough.

I guess it just wasn't enough...

2006-11-19T00:41:00.000+08:00

Time is an interesting thing. I'm not even sure if it can be even considered a thing. If it weren't for the bible's enlightenment, men would have bowed down and prayed to time itself. It never stopped for anything, always constantly moving, and we in turn keep rushing for it.

I am pressed for time. It is till the extent where I can actually feel the walls pressuring me on my sides. And the thing that really kills me is the ignorance of not knowing what to do about it. The other thing that stands next to that, is not doing anything about it, or doing something that makes it even worse.

If God blessed men with dominance over time, the world would be in chaos, if there is still a world to begin with. Which kind of explains why the big guy isn't really helping out much. This is probably just another obstacle that will make me stronger somehow I guess. It is as if I'm dangling on a thin piece of rope, with several thousand feet of sky below me, ensuring my certain death. Time is then the fire at the end of the rope, slowly, but surely, burning every inch away.

Once the rope is extinguished, I am going to die.

But that's what makes life fun isn't it?

What’s even more exciting is losing track of how much rope is left, or how much rope you got to climb to reach the safety platform. If time is against all of us, sleep must be time's ally. The amazing thing about sleep is it puts you in a state where time cannot be felt, and you are totally ignorant about it. It is as if time itself does not exist, and is probably the only moment when you experience time stopping, or just vanishing away. Time is not counted in seconds anymore, simply because it can't be counted at all.

18 hours of sleep felt like 5 minutes. It was daylight when I collapsed on my bed, and it was daylight when I woke up. It seriously felt as though time didn't move at all, while in fact, it moved an entire day.

I am so behind schedule.

2006-11-10T00:51:00.000+08:00

Seclusion from the world is a scary thing; to be separated from everything around you, isolated from the things you see and the things you feel. Sometimes it reaches to a point when you can't differentiate what is real from what is simply a figment of your imagination. The ironic truth is we are all secluded in one way or another; we just lie about to ourselves so that we can all continue living our own peaceful lives.

I have always stick to what I believed was true, even though sometimes what I believe in can be warped at times. Somewhere along the line, what you have always believed to be true can begin to turn blurry, and transform totally into something else. Confused by the blur, I just kept on going, and before I realize it, I was in the wrong region all the while. It was as if the physics and logic of the world completed shifted about, that everything I held onto as a fact, suddenly became fiction.

It brings about confusion, when my senses become lost, and I become skeptical to every single thing that goes on around me. I begin to accept that no matter how sure I was about something, it can never remain as a fact, due to the nature of everything being subjective and relative. It is as if I'm beginning to agree that there is no such thing as an absolute truth. In turn, there is no such thing as an absolute lie as well, that even in the most extreme of lies, contains a form of truth in it.

It seems questionable that everything in the world seems to work so well. Throw a ball up and it falls; push an object and it moves; take a step forward and naturally, you move forward as well. I guess that's what they call the wonder of physics, which everything in this world can be measured to some extent in the form of numbers and basic units, and can be compared with something else of a similar nature. Examples can be ranging from time, to even the academic abilities of a person. Maybe it's just my luck, as well as everyone else's, that I was born into such a systematic world.

It brings about the idea of balance. With light comes darkness; with good comes evil; with happiness comes sadness; with infinity comes negative infinity? As long as a measure of something is present, something else of a completely opposite measure will be present as well, so that it can exist on its own. Because of me, someone of a completely different character and personality will be out there as well, so that both of us can exist. I hope that someone is living life better off than I am.

Because of balance, everything becomes subjective and relative to the observer. What may be far to one may not be to another. What may be painful to you may not be painful for someone else; in fact, that someone may even enjoy it. It is almost impossible to live a life that is full of pain and sadness, because for those to exist, an equal amount of joy and happiness must exist for those negative feelings to sustain. Or else those pain and sadness won't even be felt.

In other words, every individual lives life with their own scale of joy and pain. If one side of the scale increases, chances are the other side would too just to maintain that balance. A rich person may live a comfortable life, but he faces his own sets of problems too. A poor person lives a harsh life, but he enjoys the simple things too. A crippled person can't walk, but he does not experience the pain of those who can. If you are experiencing pains in life, it probably means that you had faced happiness of an equal magnitude somewhere along the way as well.

But that scale not only ends within a person. Because of that person's existence, someone else is able to exist as well. Because of your acknowledgement, I am able to exist, and vice versa. The scale comes in when you are facing pains, someone else out there is having fun, just to maintain that balance, so that a depressed you can exist. In other words, because of one's existence, one is able to alter and change the lives of others who exist as well, no matter the boundary, because of the delicate balance within all of us which we all share.

God made a complicated world, even though the instructions for us are so much easier in comparison.

Sorry people for not posting, but I'm back.

2006-09-29T20:52:00.000+08:00

I suddenly remembered, many things; things I thought I had thrown away, because I've always feared what would happen if I constantly kept thinking about them. I suddenly remembered her.

Why?

If you are reading this, (although somehow, I'm sure you are...), I never really had the chance to thank you for so many things. Xiao Ming is doing well, although I get the feeling he is growing a little too big for his pot. Thanks for the gift; it means a lot to me.

2006-09-29T00:29:00.000+08:00

坐在桌前，盯着墨黑的天空。不知为什么，但我忽然没心情距续读书了，好像一部分的我放弃了。我叹了一口气，把手上的计算机放在课本上，眼睛一直看着黑暗。我想着，我的未来会怎样？多年来，受了那么多的苦，为了什么？十次失败，一次成功，值得吗？难道受那么多苦，是为了受更多苦吗？

可能是年尾考试的压力吧；这次的考试特别重要。坦白地说，我真的不喜欢我的学校，所以不打算在那里多过一年。但是，我能做得到吗？一向来，成绩都不好，一直不及格。我失败了那么多次，我对失败或成功都没感觉了。但我也懂这次不考到好成绩的结果。那为什么我又有那总放弃的感觉呢，好像我已经接受我这次也不会考得那么理想。难道我对自己没信心?

我想我一定疯了吧，突然想这些无聊的事。

这是我第一次用华语写网上日记。我知道我华文蛮差的，所以希望写多了就能进步=P。

I actually had a lot of things to write, but when it comes to Chinese, it all doesn’t seem to flow out as smoothly as it should. Never mind, I’ll improve somehow.

2006-09-22T23:42:00.000+08:00

It's 11.37 pm, and I'm still awake, even though I told myself specifically that I engross myself in Physics or go catch some early shut eye. But yet, I'm still here, facing this...machine, typing away. As much as I want to, I doubt I can call this a distraction. Something in me just refuses to listen to discipline anymore, or at least not for the time being. I guess I just need someone to talk to.

The previous 2 weeks in school was crazy. It’s like standing on an open field, with everyone running away from something for their dear lives, towards the same direction, holding worried or panic-stricken expressions. And I feel like a 3 year old kid who’s lost in the chaos. There was so much anxiety and pressure in the air that it was suffocating. What kind of place have I gotten myself into?

For some reason, I don't feel so worried about the promotional exams anymore; or at least not at the magnitude that I was expecting. Who knows, maybe I've grown stronger somehow, maybe somewhere deep inside of me I have just given up, maybe I'm just out of my mind. Whatever the explanation, that’s the reason why I'm not running like the people around me in that open field, or at least I think I'm not. For all I know I already am, but I just can't feel my legs anymore. I doubt I'm making any sense.

But still, I'm not feeling very good. I think that I've been feeling so down for so long that I'm getting accustomed to it. I guess that's something I can look up to. Sometimes, I just don't care anymore and just practically swallow everything in. I know that there will be a limit to how much I can take, but I pray that it will be sufficient until after the critical periods during the next few months. I will break down again, it is something I already know, something that is already predicted and foreseen.

But I just don't seem to have much choice, except just relying on my own personal strength.

I pray that I don't get retained, nor any of my close friends get retained. The idea of separation always pained me since young. Probably because I was in a foreign country, so being separated from the people whom you have grown to cherish and love is pure agony. But still, after so many occurrences, I can just never seem to become immune to such a scenario. It’s like allowing a plant to grow roots into the earth, and once they are fully developed, the plant is forcefully pulled out, leaving behind a void in the ground.

I'm not as confident as I used to be anymore. When I walk, I don't radiate my presence as strongly as before, when I talk I tend to stumble more times than before, and in everything I do, I doubt my actions. Perhaps the conditioning of too many failures and too little motivation changed me. When failing becomes a routine, you just become scared, and can't seem to believe in yourself as easily as before.

I lack motivation. I don't see any purpose in so many struggles. In fact, the only motivation I have is to avoid being demoralized by failure itself. It takes the colour away from my world, making everything feel surreal and grey. There are times when I just want to walk away from everything, just drop everything in my hands, and simply walk away without turning back. But I'm shackled, and even if I could walk away, I would probably be pulled back somehow painfully.

I fear pain, doesn't matter if it is physical, emotional or psychological. As long as it hurts in one way or another, I fear it. I face it every single day, but I can never seem to overcome it completely. If it’s simply to endure it temporarily, I'll be fine, but anything more, I'll just give in.

I probably don't make any sense, since I'm basically just ranting. It has been a while since I have been random while blogging. I wonder why I've restricted myself from doing so as much as I did last time.

I am going to die. But not yet.

2006-09-22T00:23:00.000+08:00

New Blog skin! Uber proud of it because it was made from scratch. Everything, from the pictures, the arrangements, the colour combination, all of them are original. And considering that this is my third skin done from scratch since years ago, I think it's pretty good. Except I can't shake the feeling that something is missing from this. I stare at it, and feel this emptiness somewhere, as though I forgot to include something in it. If I manage to somehow figure out what it is, I'll add it in. The skin isn't completely done yet though; will probably spend the next 2 weeks or so doing some shifting around and maybe add some stuff or take away some stuff.

Credits: pictures are done using Photoshop CS2, image hosting by imageshack.us, and of course, all this wouldn't be possible without blogger.com.

2006-09-05T19:07:00.001+08:00

I suddenly felt really sleepy, which was weird, considering that it was only 3 in the afternoon. I couldn't fight my fatigue, so I went to take a nap, hoping that I would be awake within an hour's time. That hour never came.

The thing about sleep is that you become totally ignorant of time, and you literally block out everything that goes on around you. You become lost and vulnerable to the chaos that goes on in your mind, and you begin to distant yourself from what you consider as real or simply a figment of your imagination. Especially when imaginations begin to hurt you.

I can't remember all of it. I was in a dream, not because I knew that such things wouldn't happen, but because I didn't want to believe such things would happen. In other words, I didn't know I was in a dream, I simply assumed it. I saw things that reflected my fears, my worries, and the pains I hide within me; things that I never want to think about or talk about because I was too weak to handle them, thinking that time will tackle them for me. I saw everything taken away from me, everything I held dear to myself, everything I treasured, and even the things I've taken for granted my whole life.

It wasn't a nightmare. The scenarios I was faced wasn't something that shocked me with fear. It was something prolonged, an emotional depression that I would never recover from. I couldn't do anything but watch. I saw myself face pains that I feared going through, saw myself die over and over again, until I couldn't die anymore, but still able to feel pain of the flesh and of the soul.

It was as if I saw myself in hell. Those 18 hours of sleep felt as though I was in a coma for an eternity. I didn't feel anything physical, but seeing myself die with agony and reborn again to face more hurt me. When I woke up from my slumber, my whole body ached, as though it has been cast to the fire to be burnt to ashes, reformed and burnt again in a continuous cycle.

I wasn't relieved when I woke up. My whole body has been drugged with fear that it took a whole hour to convince myself that I wasn't in a dream anymore. My heart still ached for the things that have been taken away from me, even though in the real world, they never existed to begin with. For a moment, I forgot who I was, and where I was. I had to walk into the table to remember what physical pain felt like, eat to remember what hunger felt like, and drank to remember what thirst felt like.

It was as though I was reborn into the world, feeling apprehensive with every new colour I see, and suspicious about the things around me. It is as though everything around me is going to die, and I was going to die with them. What is wrong with me? What is “me”? What is “me” doing here?

Who am I? Do you know who I am?

2006-08-26T20:18:00.000+08:00

It wasn't the first time seeing her, but it has been a while since we last met. We kept in touch during that whole period, and it wasn't like we had nothing to talk about. In fact, most of the time she did the talking, and I was always lost for words, not knowing how to reply her. But she wouldn't mind, so it wasn't like I had to take lead in the conversations we made.

But why was it that I was so flustered about seeing her again?

It wasn't like I had any interest in her. She was a normal friend to me, and I was to her. We just don't click that well to bring the relationship to a higher level. Besides, the pain from my previous relationship still haunts me occasionally. I knew that just by the thought of it, it would be bringing me trouble.

Still, there was something about her recently. I can't seem to figure out what, but it was different, something strange, out of the ordinary, even though sometimes we don't talk like ordinary people do. Perhaps it was just my imagination playing games with me, just my mind getting into the mood of doing some mischief.

Then again, what if it isn’t?

I was late, as usual. Even in previous engagements with other people, I was always late; not like this was supposed to be a date to begin with, I was actually kind of surprised that I specially made time off my busy schedule to meet her.

There she was, and I was stunned. For that split second, the world around me froze, and my mind went blank with it as well. It wasn't that there was some ravishing beauty before me, or was it something eye-catching at all. It was normal, simply average. But for some reason, it sparked something in me.

Time is relative to the observer, that split second felt like it lasted an hour, although a part of me hungered for more. She wasn't that attractive or anything like that, but somehow, she was just pleasing to look at. It brought out that sense of tranquility that I have always craved for.

My gut feeling was right; there was something different about her. Or maybe, that something different was me.

2006-07-27T22:26:00.000+08:00

And there he stood; obviously amused by the situation I got myself in, grinning spastically while enjoying his one minute of sadistic entertainment.

Somehow, when you lack sleep, the world that goes on inside your head becomes increasingly real, so much so, that it gets difficult to tell whether what happens before your eyes is actually happening, or simply a figment of your imagination flashing by. I knew him standing there before me was impossible, but the hatred he provoked in me was evidently real.

But I was in deep shit, and I needed his desperate help, whether it was to squirm my way out of the situation or simply just to endure it. I looked at him into his eyes, making it obvious that I require his assistance. I got my understanding of my nemesis all wrong. It wasn't that he wanted ultimate control over me; that was just a means of torturing me. As long as he is able to enjoy my negative emotions, he was satisfied.

Naturally, he laughed at my attempt for mercy, and turned and admired the view around us. My teacher was holding onto my paper, obviously annoyed by my performance. Just then, he just walked away, whistling some sort of irritating tune. He knew that I feared rejection, and nothing thrills him more than playing with my fears.

"This obviously shows that you lack interest and dedication to your work."

I snapped back to reality. He was no where to be seen, and all I saw instead was my teacher, and the surrounding students waiting for her to attend to them. The words "lack interest and dedication" echoed through my thoughts as it pierced through me at the most painful spot. It made the strong front I held crumble in my hands.

"Its not that I don't work hard, it's just that it doesn't seem to show..." I replied, while struggling to hold back my tears and muffle my sniffing. I meant every word I said, I was working hard and I was studying as much as I was allowed to, but unfortunately, it just somehow doesn't seem to show on my results. It baffles me even more that it annoys the teachers.

"His eyes damn red sia..."

I fought as hard as I could to stop the in-coming wave of negative emotions as much as I could. The moment my teacher returned me my paper, I swiftly made my way to the toilet and splashed my face. Amidst the droplets of water on my face, the tears began to flow. I tried to suppress them even though I knew it would be to no avail. I ended up locking myself in a cubicle and just collapsed on the on the toilet floor.

Thankfully, it was a clean toilet, with no one using it. I ended up consoling myself throughout recess break. I had no idea why, but the moment I just let myself go, all the pains that I held inside me started to show, pains that I never knew existed in me, or chose to cover up in me. Pains like my parents, disappointed at my results, but chose not show any sign of disapproval, least it pressured me further. Pains like how I felt as though I don't actually exist or belong in the world, where there are sudden moments of time when I feel secluded from everything around me and the world pulled over my eyes is actually an artificial illusion. Pains like how so much is expected out of me, but no matter how hard I strive, I just simply cannot achieve.

And then, he was there. He just stood there, nonchalant about everything that was happening. He was feeding off my negative emotions and felt stronger because of it. Blinded by frustration and depression, I reached forth to grab him by the collar, only to realize that he was simply a figment of my imagination, a make-believe personification to pin my blames on, when all I was doing was blame myself. Because he was me, and I was him.

I hated myself.

2006-07-14T20:16:00.000+08:00

There is something growing in me. I can't place my finger on it and figure out exactly what, but I can feel it. It radiates some form of negative energy that weakens me inside, and it feels sinister, evil and dark at the same time. I've only realised it after getting my results.

My mid-year grades were terrible, as usual. Previously, each time I disappoint myself, I end up being in a state of depression for a day or two, sometimes lasting through weeks, depending on the impact. I anticipated that depression, but instead, was faced with something much more potent then the grey feeling. I merely saw the lousy grade, and instead of sadness, I felt anger, frustration, and the urge to destroy everything around me.

Previously, I would feel a hole in my heart. Now, I felt something black engulfing it instead, as though trying to protect it, and take over it at the same time. The negative energy it radiates would pulse through my veins, making me feel weak, as if I've lost control of my movements. Before I knew it, something else had taken over, and I couldn't do anything to stop it.

Just then, I would wake up from whatever that had been going on inside of me, and I saw the world around me in a different colour. There was a cocky personality attached to me, as though in that few seconds, I have developed an extreme case of "happy-go-lucky". I simply felt as though I need not care so much about anything anymore, and instead of feeling out of place without having anything to cling on to, it felt good.

Too good. I began to intoxicate myself by being high and became unaware of my actions and my speech. I mean, I could see everything happen before me, but it all moved too fast for me to do anything about it; if I could do anything at all. I did stupid things, hurt people around me, and neglected many of my obligations, irritating even the closest of people whom I work with. But it didn't care, it carried on it's destruction by being self-centered. I could see everything unravel before my eyes, but I just couldn't stop myself.

I became someone different, someone changed, someone whom I fear of being simply because it hurts people around me. I became someone whom I never knew to have existed in me, the very personality whom I avoided developing into. This is the very reason why I fear change, because I hate changing into someone of such a charactor. And now I realise, that the fear I possess resides within me.

I struggled with myself for days to regain control and stabilise myself. And for the first time in I don't know how long, I hated myself. I hated myself for doing so many wrongs, for sinning so much and not repenting on my mistakes. I hated myself for doing so badly for my exams.

I was on a basketball court. My friends were all taking a break by the sidelines, but I lingered on and practice shooting hoops. I was alone on the court. It was then I saw that evil side of me grinning. He looked at me with an expression that said he could predict my every move, read my every thought and knew my every emotion. He was aware that I hated to be him, and he finds pleasure in that.

Gradually, my practice session became more and more furious as I pushed myself harder. It felt as though I was competing against my nemesis, fighting with him to see who was top. After about 30 minutes, I became tired, and simply walked off to get a drink. I saw him at the corner of my eye, angered by me leaving the game half-way. He screamed out my name with fury, and then vanished.

I supposed I was physically too tired to have two personalities in me at that time. I think that is what they call the darkness in the soul, the evil counterpart of every one of us, the one person whom we fight against in ourselves, the devil that lives within each of us. I had always been fighting against him since the beginning and for a good reason too. He was the one who went against all my beliefs and instils doubt in many of the things I do, the one person pulling me back from achieving my true potential.

I only managed to see him face to face after my mid-year results. It made me realise, my battle with him is going to be a lot tougher from now on.

2006-07-04T11:53:00.000+08:00

It has been the standard issue of every examination period. In fact, it is the only thing I look forward to in every examination. The very thing that made the intense education competition so fun to be in, even with all the crazy revisions and sacrifices one must face in order to meet expectations. Sadistic as this sound, it is the one thing that never fails to make me grin from ear to ear while doing the last paper of the examination, even though the reason why I'm grinning isn't because the paper was easy to tackle.

It is just this moment when the invigilator says "pens down, stop writing", a spring will suddenly appear and kick you out of the hell hole you dug so deeply during your revision for the exam. Depending on how much you studied for the exam, the power of the spring varies. During the O levels, that spring kicked so hard, I was still floating in mid-air even after a week. This time, the spring didn't even appear at all.

I guess I just haven't been studying enough. Speaks volumes about my predictions for my mid year results. It is bringing back that old doubtful feeling of whether I should be in Meridian Junior College instead of one with a less "chionging" nature. I hate it when I'm under pressure to meet expectations; I always screw up under too much pressure. But well, can't really change the institution I got myself into, might as well force myself to appreciate what I got.

I feel lost. I've always thought that my life will be all planned out smoothly once I cross the O level hurdle. All I got was out of the frying pan and into the fire. I feel as though I'm studying so much but for no reason. There is this feel of lack of direction that everything I'm doing isn't worth anything, and isn't going to lead my anywhere. And that not only counts in terms of education. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate everything in my life, and I'll be hurt if one aspect of it gets taken away from me. But still, I just can't find meaning in anything I do anymore. As though everything that was once so alive to me feel so... surreal.

It is making me confuse about my existence. Do I really exist? Do I really live in this world? And does my stay here make any difference at all? Why is it that God made me for? What purpose do I have to complete before departing? Sometimes I feel as though the reason why I'm living is because I need to satisfy my survival instincts of staying alive, and because I fear death, the unknown whelm of what is going to happen to me once my soul leaves my body.

Why do I ask and bother myself with so many questions? That isn't like me at all.

2006-06-22T03:02:00.000+08:00

I have no idea why I'm doing this. It's 3 in the morning, and I've just completed a segment of my revision for my mid year exams after burning the midnight oil. I'm supposed to be preparing my mind on the next segment or just go to bed. But here I am instead, blogging. I guess I just need an avenue to run to when I'm not feeling so good, a place for me to calm myself down and do some self-reflection.

My June holidays/ study-leave aren't going too well. Everything that I've intended didn't go as planned. In other words, my revision for my mid-year exams are seriously behind schedule, and there is still a tonne of chapters I've yet to complete with only a few days left before school re-opens. Kind of brings back nostalgic memories. If I could recall accurately, one year ago, I was also having problems with mid-year exams. Except that the present moment always seemed to be more difficult than the past. It's all a matter of perspective and relativity I guess.

My parents left for Thailand recently. My father was going there for a business trip, and my mother was just tagging along. A good thing she did, because my parents seriously need a vacation. It's about time they start considering retirement; they just aren't getting any younger. Unfortunately, there's still me. With me still stuck in the Singapore education system, I'm still dependent on their income. Sometimes I wonder if my parents would be better off if they didn't go for the second try, at least they wouldn't be so pressurised to work so hard.

There were just so many things I wanted to do, like pack my room, finish up all my undone homework, the usual stuff I've always intended to do every holiday. But as always, procrastination always get the better of me, and I end up being a house bum rather than do anything productive. I feel almost guilty for saying this, but being a house bum feels really good. You just slack off in one corner of the room and basically become brain-dead for that period of time. All the havoc and chaos that once engulfed you just fade away, and everything you see becomes clear, without the usual blurry outlines that surrounded every object. It seems wasteful, but to observe time just pace itself away from you, constantly moving, never pausing for anything. Occasionally, it slows down once in a while, but never stopping. It doesn't react to physical contact, but it responds to one's feel.

When you have simply nothing to do, time does slow down really drastically. Or rather in my case, it wasn't that I had nothing to do; more of nothing I felt like doing.

Holidays to me are lengths of time when I get the opportunity to recharge my batteries. My bad sleeping hours naturally make me exhausted when the sun shines, and fully awake once it sets. But there is a difference between being alert and being revitalised. On a normal school day, even though I made myself go through sufficient sleep, I still felt tired. In fact, come to think about it, certain days during the holiday, I actually slept less than usual, but I still felt refreshed and energised anyway. It’s not completely about how long the battery can last; it’s also about how much power the battery can output at once when the time calls for it.

I feel like posting something in One Voice. But well, knowing myself, I'll probably procrastinate about it until I forget about it eventually.

2006-06-17T23:34:00.001+08:00

As much as I love my parents, just like any other lover, even God himself, sometimes they tend to do things that you are not extremely pleased with. It is a trait of any parent to find fault in any of your actions, and deliver a message with such brutality and ferocity, that it actually stings even though no physical weapons were used.

It isn't really the first time that I failed to inform my parents about something, neither was it the first time they imposed their parental authority on me for doing so. Well, even I got to admit, I was partially at fault, simply because I miscalculated the trust they have in me, thinking that already being 17 and all, they wouldn't mind if I was coming home late. I mean, at least I had the grace of telling them that I wouldn't be having dinner at home.

Actually, when I think about it, her little explosion was kind of accumulated over time. It is true that I have been staying out late, and not behaving as the "model son" of staying at home and revising for my mid-years. However, it was inevitable. Don't get me wrong but the reason why I'm out so late isn't because I was hanging out with my friends, even though I really want to. It was a variety of reasons, ranging from extra classes, to council meetings, to project work meetings. Mind you, these are reasons, not excuses. They are genuine and factual. In other words, I'm not engaging in any activity that will endanger me in any way, or at least not in any obvious way.

Unfortunately, my parents are quick to jump to conclusions, and as much as I hate to admit it, the conclusions they end up with are rather accurate. I was tired from the day's activities so I was stoning on my bed until my mother barged into my room and literally exploded. My mind had already shut down by then, so I couldn't really catch her words. All I recalled was her loud and fierce expression, her booming voice and her demoralising words. Naturally, the moment she left, there was a sting of hate and anger in me, frustrated about the lack of understanding my parents have for me. It was a sting that lasted for a mere split second. Once that split second passed away, I smiled and laughed to myself.

I recalled the message my mother was trying to drill in me just moments ago. It was then I realised that it wasn’t that she didn’t understand me. It was quite the contrary; she understood me perfectly; just that it was presented in a painful way. She was merely worried for my studies, but she just didn’t know how to express it properly. So as all parents do, they show their care and concern the way they find best; in this case, my mother found it easier to scold me. If I replace her booming tone with cautious whispers, her message actually reflects a softer side of my mother. In fact, she was almost begging me to be careful with my studies.

Sometimes I wonder if it has anything to do with the generation gap I have with my parents.

2006-06-17T23:34:00.000+08:00

2006-06-11T23:46:00.000+08:00

My project work group had a meeting today. All I could remember was that we were sitting at starbucks and I was sipping my coffee, nothing else. I guess I was only physically present during the meeting.

If my group leader sees this, he is going to kill me. But no, I'm not here to write about the meeting. I'm here to write about the aftermath. Apparently, we all didn't want to go home too early, so we decided to have a little “walk around”.

It occurred to me that I rarely engaged in this activity alone. Even though I wasn't alone at that point of time, I suddenly felt secluded from everyone else. I felt isolated, and I was drifting amidst the sea of people away from my group. It was then I realised why I never choose to walk around busy areas.

Walking to me gives me the chance and opportunity to clear my thoughts and organise whatever chaos that has been happening in my head. Unfortunately, "walking around" busy areas just make matters a little worse, because an old habit of mine kicked back in. I can't really remember when, but whenever I walk aimlessly around a busy area, I tend to spot someone in the crowd. Then I would scrutinise the person from head to toe, analysing the person's features and inferring their possible characteristics.

All that is fine, but this is where the sad part comes. I would picture myself in that person's shoes. And for some reason, the image of me as that person is rarely positive. I would see the pains and sufferings the person goes through, and the hardship that person had to endure. Even if the person I happen to be analyzing is happy and smiling away. I would always find that hint of sadness on that facial expression.

It explains why I never enjoyed going to places like the old folk’s home and all to clock my CIP hours. I just can't handle the pain.

As much as I wanted to stay with my group, each time my eyes land on someone, I would feel that person's pain and I would drift away from my group until I snap back to reality. I suppose it is a curse and a gift at the same time; at least I sympathise with people.

But it has been a while since that "thing" kicked in. Back when I was younger, all it would do was bring sadness, and I wouldn't even understand why. Now that I've matured more (or at least I hope I did) I now see how it all formulates in my head. Even the best looking people you see on the streets face issues now and then.

It made me think about perspective, relativity and balance. It is all about those three things, really. If you live a comfortable life with a roof over your head and a healthy body and all, chances are the problems you face are terrible in order to maintain that balance. Likewise if you live as a beggar on the streets; you just enjoy the simple things in life. Each one of us have our own perspective of life, it is relative to how we are born, how we are nurtured, and how we choose to live our lives.

I guess all of this shows I really need to start studying for my mid years, since I actually have the time to think about all this crap. I can write a whole essay on this, but it would probably just bore everyone, me included.

I apologise if what I wrote didn't make any sense. Because now that I re-read it all, I realise I have no idea what the hell I was talking about.

2006-06-06T16:43:00.000+08:00

I opened my eyes and everything slid into focus. The area around me was familiar and friendly, even though it was in a mess. I was home. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, while my other hand fumbled my table for my clock. Everything that happened before felt surreal, like a dream. Well, anyone who hibernated for the last 18 hours would feel the same.

I just returned from LTC, something that all the leaders of Meridian have to go for. That kind of explained why I was so tired. The last 18 hours seriously made up for lost sleep during the camp. And it felt damn good. Too good in fact; till now, my muscles are too stiff, and the ache is killing me. At least my heavy eye-bags are fading away, for now.

I won't brag about how fun LTC was, or the good things that happened during LTC, just like what every blogger would do. If you have read through my entries, I'm not like every blogger. Rather that write about the obvious things that happen, I tend to notice the more non-apparent occurrences and lessons that go on around me.

Everything that happened during LTC was like a dream. A dream not because it was fun, but because everything felt as though it didn't happen at all. During the last day of LTC, the photography club gracefully did a presentation showing photographs of the happenings during LTC. I was all smiles when I saw through the presentation; however, I couldn't find myself in the photos. Instead, I saw a boy smiling back at me, holding a trademark "peace" sign while posing for the camera, wearing a pink head-band stood out from the others around him.

I couldn't recognise him, not until I scrutinised him for the next few seconds while his picture was on. When the next picture was shown, my mind was still on that boy. He looked familiar, but yet, it felt as though I haven't met him before, or at least not during the camp. But he's picture was there, that pink colour identity must mean he must be part of my group. Why is it that I've never seen him before?

I was about to look around to catch a glimpse of the person whom I've failed to meet, until I realised, he was just right in front of me. I stared at him, as he simply laughed at me, as though recognising a long lost friend. I smiled awkwardly back at him. I reached out to shake his hand that was presented to me. His hand felt warm, friendly, and familiar. I knew him, even before the camp, I've seen him before somewhere. He used to be me.

I have been behind a facade for so long that I've forgotten the person behind the mask. After I managed to recognise him, a tear formed in my eye, as though I was about to depart from a long-term friend. He merely reached out and wiped the tear away, and then stretched his arms wide and embraced me with a hug. I tried to stay strong, but just missed him too much to do so.

When I snapped back to reality, I was home, it was 9a.m., and I needed a shower. LTC felt as though it didn't happen because I didn't even attend it. Instead, the person whom I have forgotten to have existed in me went on my behalf. In other words, during LTC, I was not restrained by expectations or by the fear of scrutiny or embarrassment. I was not bounded by a mask that covered my face, nor by a facade am I forced to hold in front of others. I was free, liberated, and unshackled. I was myself.

He was still a boy, always searching for fun, and ignorant of the meaning of hostility.

Have I changed so much that I have forgotten who I really am? Someone said to me during LTC, "Why suddenly you're so vocal for this camp?" I just smiled and shrugged. Who knows man, who knows...

2006-06-01T00:44:00.000+08:00

It wasn't the first time it happened. And each time it did, I just wish the ground below me would just swallow me somehow. I never had this problem, until I started to open up during primary 6. It is only after 5 years, which is now, that the after-effects can be really felt. The saying is true, knowing too many people can kill.

She just looked at me straight in my face, right into my eyes, as if saying that she knew a lot more things that I knew about myself. I simply returned a blank stare at her. She reminded me of someone I knew, someone I met during my whole 17 years of existence, someone who obviously knew me too, otherwise she wouldn't have so bluntly say in my direction, "Kenneth right?"

Her face rings a bell somewhere, and her every movement showed a sign of familiarity. This is the part I hate; when someone just comes up to you and actually knows something about you, while you know nuts about the person, especially if it is someone you are expected to remember.

Time had the grace to slow itself down, and everything that surrounded us was a blur. I searched deep into my memory, trying desperately to find some profile information about the subject in front of me. The last time I failed to find a single piece of information, I was literally gunned down not only by the person I was trying to identity, but by the people around us too. However, as much as time slowed down, it can never be stopped, and I was about to meet my impending doom.

The thing about being in the council is that your skin becomes really thick, and you obtain the ability to crap something out of the blue, no matter the situation. Whether the crap you came up with is substantial or not, is another story. "You look familiar..." I said, straining my eyes as if trying hard to recall who she was. My guess was that my act worked, because she returned an expression that said "well?"

"Where have I seen you before...?” I whispered to myself out loud. Catching the hint, she said in a matter-of-fact way, "I was in the same class as you in primary school?" I stood calm, and replied, "Yeah, I know you were in the same class as me in primary school, but who are you?" Well, if you couldn't catch my meaning, all I did was repeat her clue at me, as if I actually knew that.

Then she said her name, with a question mark behind it, as though I was in an interview and she was the interviewer, prompting me to answer the question. Then, I gave the one expression that every local student learns throughout the course of education here. "OOOH! Yeah!" Immediately, my mind suddenly came up with a complete profile about the subject in front of me, and I started comparing her then and now.

"You were shorter back then."

2006-05-27T20:38:00.000+08:00

You guys are right, the experiment isn’t worth it. I read back my entries and I realised the effect wasn't as strong as I predicted them to be, making me remember why was it that I decided to continue blogging after about a whole year of stopping back when I was in secondary 2; it was so that I can read back, and keep in touch with who I was, not who I was forcing myself to be. Reading stuff that is literally forced out of me just didn't feel right anymore.

Apologies guys. Most of all, sorry to poor old me, the one person whom I love so dearly.

Anyway, as always, my life is as hectic as ever. From where I stand now, secondary school life feels so much more relaxing. I recall every day after school, my class people would rush down to the nearby basketball court and "conquer" the territory. Now, everyday after school, I got to be down for council stuff that appears last minute out of the blue without any prior warning.

Although the one good thing about being in the council is that there is no fixed meeting or training dates, so it is possible to have one whole week of no CCA at all. But well, most of the time it isn't really the case. In fact, it is more of the direct opposite. Due to not having a fixed timing and date, that "privilege" is exploited, and we end up walking out of school once the stars come out every single day. And as though my eyes aren't small enough, all of that is seriously causing my eye-bags to increase in diameter.

However, it isn't the long hours that bother me. I don't really mind staying in school till the next day if my body permits. It is the need of putting up a strong front that bothers me, the need of putting a facade that convinces people that I'm in control, that I'm as strong and as confident as everyone around me. Even if my life isn't going as well as intended. If there isn't a demand of me to remain strong-willed, I would have simply collapsed in school half-way and run to an isolated corner and cry everything away.

Unfortunately, the moment the council investiture is over, the entire school's eyes are on you, and on that little badge pinned above the left breast pocket, especially the teachers. My name will never remain uncalled by the teacher in every single lesson. And for some reason, teachers just know exactly when to call you, and how to phrase their questions such that you end up humiliating yourself if you attempt to answer it. There is a limit to how thick my skin can be.

My studies aren't going too well. At the rate I'm going, Meridian won't have much trouble considering who they are going to retain after the promotional exams. I am failing every single test and exam that is thrown at me, except for general paper (GP) which I am really proud of, even though the marks aren't that fantastic.

Not too long ago, when my chemistry teacher returned my assignment to me, I felt a lump in my throat when I saw 4/15 on my paper. As if that isn't enough, my teacher commented after handing me my paper, "Why is it that your work is always this terrible? You should put in more effort, Kenneth." Chemistry is one of my favourite subjects, since the beginning of my O level journey, which is why I choose chemistry over computing during the selection of subject combination. To say that I'm not putting effort in chemistry poked me in the most painful spot.

A tear had formed in my eye. It would have trickled down, if I suddenly realised the whole class was looking at me, including my teacher. I had to hold back, least I get into more trouble due to the appointment I hold. Pretending that my eye itched, I rubbed it a little, and returned to focus on the lesson. I nearly succeed in hiding away, until lesson ended. I had to rush to the hall for my council duties. A council friend of mine who was walking along my side saw the red-eyed me. "You okay?" she asked, out of concern. I simply forced a smile, "Yeah, I'm just tired."

She gave me a confused expression, even though I refused to look at her in the eye. "You sure?" When she said that, I had to rub my eye again.

"Ya, I'm fine."

2006-05-23T23:28:00.000+08:00

My vision was blurred. I've tried everything in the book to get back my focus. However, the double image in front of me refused to merge back to one. I could feel my heavy bags drooping from my eye-lids to my cheek bone. They have been there since the beginning of Secondary 1, but it is only now that it begins to feel painfully heavy. And I mean painful; as if I got punched in both eyes.

The oscillation between awake and asleep was torturous, especially since the lecturer teaching the lessons kept emphasizing on important points here and there. Obviously, as much as I push myself to, I catch nothing at all with my semi-conscious me. I don't blame myself; I only had 5 hours of sleep for the last few weeks or so. And 5 hours of sleep a day for me is way too little. I live on sleep, I must have sleep, and sleep is my life.

Desperate times call for desperate measures; I tried everything to keep myself awake. Holding my breathe until I nearly suffocated, remembering frightening memories to produce more adrenaline in me, slapping myself on the cheeks really painfully, munching on sweets and drowning myself with water. It would have worked, if I haven't seemed to grown immune to such methods.

Somewhere along that line of trying everything possible to keep myself awake, something happened. Whatever it is, I was wide awake, and I could actually pay attention to everything happening around me. Suddenly, for some reason, I was no longer in the lecture theater, and was in a car chase, with police vehicles hot on my heels. Then suddenly, I was on the basketball court, shooting hoops.

Out of the blue, there was a knock on my table, and I snapped back to reality. My seating partner was kind enough to pull me out of dreamland. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the lesson again.

Says it all man, I'm tired. And I need sleep.

2006-05-21T23:43:00.000+08:00

Well, maybe I have been demanding too much, or the big guy up there got some plan for me and probably wants to tell me something, something which I can't really comprehend. Whatever it is, God isn't really answering my prayers, or at least not as I expect it to be. I guess I should be glad that at least he is making the results not as detrimental as I expected them to be.

Although there is one thing that he has been generous about one thing, the rain. I just love the rain. Well actually no, I love the period of time before the rain, downcast, the moment the sun no longer pierce through the skies and scorch everything it touches, and when cool air blows frequently in all directions; never fails to calm me down when I need it most. The air just becomes lighter, making it easier to breathe, and everything looks clearer than it was. It manages to clear my head from chaos and just focus at the task at hand, while another part of my mind organises and plans everything ahead.

I didn't manage to capture that period of time. The moment I opened the door to head home, it was already raining. I was about to step out until someone commanded me to stop and went to get an umbrella for me. I was reluctant, but it was rude to refuse the offer. I took the umbrella, opened it, and walked away.

After a dozen meters or so, unconsciously, my hand dropped, uncovering myself from the rain. On impulse, I pulled back the umbrella, leaving it dangling in my hand as I strolled in the rain. I know myself, the rain has the power to pull the real me out of hiding, and simply wash away the facade I was wearing. I was expecting to meet someone who was calm, tranquil and in control. Instead, I got someone of a complete opposite nature.

I was in panic, and I had this worry inside of me. A voice inside of me told me to run for shelter, away from the rain. I restrained myself and made myself walk the complete journey in the shower. I could feel myself wrestling with the wild beast within me with each step I took in the wet weather. But a frightened beast is only restrained by fear, and can be easily over-powered by sheer will. It succumbed, sooner than expected, and I was in complete control the moment I reached the bus-stop, only to see myself drenched from head to toe.

I stroked my dripping hair back as I looked out for my bus. The panic and fear inside of me was gone, as though washed away by the rain. I was in total control again. I guess God does have his plans for me.

2006-05-20T17:24:00.000+08:00

I'm going to try something stupid. Just for the fun of it, I want to see if I'm still able to make it onto the featured list in campusmoblog. In other words, I'm going to force myself to increase my blog entry frequency, and see what happens after that. So, naturally the quality of my post is going to be a little lousy during this moment, do try to understand yeah?

Anyway, I had my council investiture this week. For some reason, they really emphasised a lot on the perfection of this investiture during the past few weeks, asking us to return back for rehearsals that lasted all the way till 10 p.m. after our lessons. There was even once when we got locked up in school late at night, because the security guard went home before us. In the end all we could do was wait for the poor guy to come rushing back to school in his singlet, shorts and slippers. I remembered him standing by the main gate, with his car that was illegally parked perpendicular to the main road, beaconing to us to move out of the campus quickly.

It felt more of a relief rather than a prestige honour during the actual investiture, because it meant to us all councilors that it would be the end of late nights and the lack of sufficient sleep; or at least for the time being.

Still, it is something worth remembering, the feel of walking to stage and being presented with the badge that I have no idea why I wanted to get so badly in the beginning. The moment my fingers touched the surface of the metallic object, it was as though the whole world was mounting itself onto my shoulders. I held onto the badge in my hand as I walked to my position. It felt heavy and bulky with all the burdens and responsibilities attached to it.

Or maybe because they choose a heavy material to build the badge.

Whatever it is, something tells me life is not going to be as simple as I hoped it would be now that I am cursed with that mark on my uniform. On a brighter note, at least it isn't as big as the name-tag they gave us when we were council nominees.

Oh and did I mention that I look really good in the Meridian blazer? Well, a little self-praise never hurt anyone, lol =P

2006-05-13T01:46:00.000+08:00

I just love holidays. It gives this sense of boredom which I am deprived of everyday. And when your life starts to turn hectic, you just miss being bored. I needed the boredom time anyway; it has been a while since I spent time to get in touch with myself.

It has been a while since I've done it. Previously, it wasn't really an option for me. But whether it was forced or on my own will, the satisfaction it brings felt the same, even after so long. It was late, almost midnight, and there I was, choosing to walk home, rather than take the bus. I needed the walk. School is hectic, and I always return home tired. In the end, I can never find the time to just speak with myself. I miss myself.

It was dark. The path I chose was empty, with the exception of the occasional traffic and people rushing back to their homes. The exact thing I needed, isolation, a separation from everything that is going on around me.

Life in junior college isn't as beautiful as it seems, given that it already looks horrible from afar. I walked to my teacher after class upon looking at the words "see me" written in red on my test paper. Being in the education system for more than 10 years, I knew that those words were never a good sign. I knew what she had to say to me even before she noticed me approaching her, and I could tell she wasn't very pleased with me. I wasn't pleased with myself either. As much as I didn't want to think about it, I can't avoid the fact that I have yet to pass a test ever since I stepped into Meridian. Obviously, I wasn't the only one who realised that truth; otherwise she wouldn't have bothered to "nag" me awake.

I didn't bother to listen to her words. Those words merely pointed at the obvious. I was already aware of the obvious. I'm struggling to keep up with my studies.

It brings back the fear and uncertainty I used to carry within me, like a ghost that came back just to haunt me. I'm scared, afraid and worried. Life as a councilor didn't help at all. I'm forced to convince the people around me that I was doing fine, forced to live a lie that prevented me from being myself. I needed the walk that night, just so that I can take away that facade, and just see myself for who I am again.

I know I shouldn't be thinking about this, considering the situation I'm in, but I feel lonely. On the surface, I'm always surrounded by my own friends, by people who know me, and I'm rarely seen alone in school. But still, there is something missing, something that touches deep inside of me, something intimate. It has always occurred to me, but it is only now that I'm acknowledging it. I miss having a counterpart. I miss knowing that someone is there for you when everything around you crumbles. I miss being able to see that someone and feel everything wrong about you simply fade away. I miss feeling the satisfaction of everything bad that has happened during the day; vanish, just by hearing the voice of that someone. I miss being attached. I feel lonely.

Well, it's probably just a short-term phrase. I guess I'll forget about being lonely in another week or so.

My parents are worried for me. I leave the house before the sun rises, and only return home way after it set. They are afraid that it will affect my studies. It has, even though I haven't told them about my failing streak in school. Meridian had this donation drive, where they sent letters to all parents appealing them to donate any amount to the college. I don't really support the school that much, so I told them that they didn't have to donate, since it wasn't compulsory. I felt sad for them. They felt complied to donate simply because Meridian was giving me an education.

I continued walking. I was only a few hundred metres away from home. Only moments ago, I was rowdy and high. Now that I was literally alone, I could actually feel the wounds and pains deep inside of me. They will heal in time. They always do anyway.

I'll be turning 17 soon. Contrary to belief, I don't really like birthdays. They always serve to remind me that I'm getting older, telling me that I'm one year closer to death.

2006-05-05T23:01:00.000+08:00

Thanks to Janry, I've got something substantial to write about (or at least substantial to some). So well, allow me to participate in this little, "game".

"Rules of the game: post 10 weird and random facts about yourself, then at the end list 5 people who are next in line to do this. Don't forget to leave a comment that says "you are tagged" in their blog and tell them to read yours."

10) My first year of education in Singapore is Primary 1. My kindergarten and playschool years were spent overseas. 2 years in Japan, and another 2 in India. And back when I was in Primary school, every school holiday was spend in Macau to see my Father. He was working in SIA back then, so my family is moved to wherever his boss wants him to be attached to. I would have studied in Macau but my Mother wanted a Singaporean education for me. And yes, back then I could speak Japanese, although for some reason, everything is forgotten now. And no, I can't speak Indian, or Tamil, because I was in an international school there.

Do you have any idea how fun it is to speak a language your parents can't understand? =P

9) I was in Tao Nan primary which is more than a 100 plus years old, then went to Dunman Secondary which is more than 40 plus years old. Then spent my first 3 months in TPJC during the PAE period, which is about 20 years old. And now currently in MJC, which is less than 5 years old. Seriously man, the higher I get, the younger the school becomes. For all I know, I may get into a newly opened University once I graduate from JC.

8) If you don't know me, and look at me from afar, your first impression of me will be "paikia". Confirm with chop, no doubt about it, and no point denying it. You'll think I am damn serious about everything that goes on around me and hold a "no-joking" policy in everything I do. I don't know man, maybe it’s my face that gives this serious impression. And something tells me that my blog entries also reflect just that, a sense of seriousness in me. I am serious, but that’s only like half of the time man. I really full of crap. I'm only serious when it deals with issues that affect me deeply. Or when I'm really really tired.

7) I only had one girlfriend in my entire life-time so far. We kissed a total of 4 times before we broke up. I posted a story about her in Teens Consultation, one of campusmoblog's group blogs. Please do read it up.

6) I wear glasses, but rarely take photos with them. Even though quite a number of people told me I look better in glasses. They make me feel un-natural man, how the hell do I take a photo and look good in it if I don't feel comfortable being myself? I bought one-day contacts to tackle the problem, although I only wear it for special occasions, and still wear glasses to school every day.

5) I entered Secondary One with a height of 145 cm. I was 155 in Secondary 2, 165 in Secondary 3, and 175 in Secondary 4. I am now currently 178 (just 2 more cm to go~). Seriously, I shoot 10 cm a year man, although I think I've stopped.

4) Not many people actually know this about me, even a few of my personal friends, but I am a car enthusiast. My dream car is the 360 Spydar. But I'm aiming to get the Celica, or if possible the S2000. Diablos and Enzos are dreams of a dream for me. When it comes to the question of car or house first, I go for car first. Because the car is used to woo chicks, then I can still use the Singaporean way to propose to her. "I think its time for us to get a HDB flat..."

3) My first handphone came to me only this year. Before that, I was using my mom's handphone. And back then, I think it was because of my charisma or something, because everyone thought I had a handphone. And people repeated ask me for my number even though I told them that I don't have a handphone. Each time I did, they stare at me with disbelief, giving the "Sure anot?" reply or the "Don't joke liao la, tell me whats your number". Sometimes, I just give people all the wrong impressions.

2) A little more on point 8, if you don't know me, and come to talk to me, you'll be even more convinced that I'm a "paikia". The way I talk and the way I type in my blog is really of two different people. Especially when I go high, all the more you can't tell the me typing this entry, from the me talking to you at that point of time.

1) I know I shouldn't be saying this, but it IS still something I'm really proud of. I was the only guy from my Secondary 2 class to make it to pure science. I was really motivated to study and work hard ever since my principal said to me during the Meet-the-parents session. "You from 2E arh? I think you can still make it to combine science." Classes range from 2A to 2F, 2A being the "best" in rank. Says it all man. My math result during CA2 that time was a sadistic 99.1%. Even I myself am clueless as to how the hell I got that. In the end, I toped my class, clinched a few academic awards. All that while failing Chinese...

And now, to tag people:

1) Rachel
2) Rowena
3) Iris Goh
4) Iris Lee
5) Shu yun

2006-05-01T15:10:00.000+08:00

I should be doing my homework, packing my messy room, or revising for the next up-coming test. And yet, here I am, dedicating time typing this time down. It is something that I have always heard about, something that is always evident but never really seen, something that is of importance to me, so I'm willing to, in economical terms, pay this opportunity cost.

I just returned from camp. Back in secondary school, I was in the NCC and all, so camps were no strangers to me, I knew what to expect, and I knew what to prepare. But the one thing that caught me off-guard was that the camp was attended by people who were of significance to the college, people who were known throughout the school, people who were famous enough to gather enough votes for them to be in the council. I have yet to figure out how I managed to be apart of that group of people. In other words, these people are leaders, very good ones in fact. And leaders just loved to be followed. And with that desire, they forget how to follow.

I have never been or seen a group where everyone just love to be outstanding, because in every group I was apart of, I was always the outstanding one, becoming the voice, the head, and heart of the team. It is through my nature of being able to become just that, that managed to get me into the council in the first place. However, this time, I had to literally restrain myself for just being myself.

Everyone wanted to stand out, everyone wanted to be heard, and everyone wanted to be recognized. Some of these people are even faking their own identities just to achieve that. It is a little habit of mine to stay quiet during the first day of any camp, to look around and assess the situation first before making my move. Unfortunately, everyone was making such an effort to be the "leader" of the entire council that I had to force myself to remain quiet, and not add fuel to the flames.

Perhaps they simply wanted to be part of the Ex-Co, because mostly are aware that the camp is designed to identify potential candidates to be president of the student council, or any other high position. It is something understandable, but the one thing that frustrates me, as well as a few others who feel the same way as I did, was that people force and bull-doze their way through. As a result, a camp that was meant to bond us together became one where each individual had to fight for himself.

During the debrief after one of the teambuilding games, I voiced out a statement, "Too many cooks spoil the broth". When prompted by the camp 2nd IC to elaborate on my words, I said, "When too many cooks make one soup, the soup spoils la." Well, it was meant to be a joke in a way, so people laughed, that was good. But upon looking on their faces, I could tell, no one caught my meaning.

I didn't say what I said just because I wanted to put a smile on their faces, I said that because I wanted to point out that my statement was pointing at something obvious, such that it didn't require any explanation at all.

It was as though once they are regarded as the leaders of the student body, they forget themselves, and lose the ability to listen. So, I added on, "Everyone was trying to be the leader, and voicing out their suggestions of what they think is right, and no one listened to anyone. As a result, things got messy, and everyone got frustrated and all. Too many leaders, too little followers."

That was probably one of the last few times I stood out during camp, because my words weren’t heard by everyone, and everyone was fighting among themselves again. I forced myself to not interfere, because all that would do was make things worse.

It is something that I have always anticipated in every team I become a part of. But to actually see it happening before my eyes, to actually be able to feel the pressure and stress it brings about, demoralizes me.

All their promises to the school, about listening to the student body, voicing out the wants and needs of the school, it as if the moment they are councilors, all of that is forgotten.

They hear, but they don't listen; they look, but they don't see; they touch, but they don't feel.

God help me, I don't want to change for the worse.

2006-04-18T23:43:00.000+08:00

I wanted to write about this sooner, but the inspiration didn't quite hit me at the right moment. Each time it did, I either had too much work to do, or I was in the middle of doing something else. Now that I'm able to pen this down, I'm forcing myself to blog this even though my eyes are like half closed.

About a year back, somewhere in August, my school had the sadistic idea of forcing all graduating classes to sit in during Speech Day and watch award winners claim their ten seconds of fame on stage. Back then, when fear and uncertainty of the future clouded my mind, I questioned myself if I would be back to receive my own award. It made me cry as I collapsed under that amount of stress and pressure. Seriously, I cried, because I was scared, frightened of the O levels.

From where I stand today, the O levels were a thing of the past. To be very honest, I recall studying and mugging pretty hard, but yet, I am unable to remember the feeling of anxiety and nervousness. Perhaps I was under too much trauma that I chose to forget about it. Whatever the reason, I can honestly say I placed my best efforts in that national exam, and I'm damn proud about it. Thank the heavens, that Dunman Secondary believes in so too.

Yes, the question I queried myself with was answered in the most satisfying way. Even though I had a pile of tutorials to work on and deadlines to meet, I was still all smiles once I found a letter posted to me, inviting me back for Dunman's Speech Day event. And this time, I'm not there for because I'm required to be part of the parade as usual, but rather as a guest, to claim my very own ten seconds of fame. Somehow, if you have worked hard, push yourself to the limits, and perhaps gone beyond those boundaries, and challenge yourself to the maximum, those ten seconds on stage felt like an eternity.

I know I shouldn't be saying this, but I think I look really good in the Meridian blazer.

That day, walking into the campus was a different feeling altogether. Just a year back, coming to school was a chore, something I dreaded. Not too long ago, when the O level results were in, coming to school was frightening, where every slight and sudden movement shocked the daylights out of me. Now, coming back to school just gave me this sense of royalty, when the true meaning of "we welcome you back anytime" kicked in. Or maybe because the blazer made me look as though I was going for prom.

But I cannot emphasize how much those ten seconds meant to me, especially for my parents. At the corner of my eye, they were beaming with pride for me, evidently proud of my achievement. Those ten seconds wouldn't have been as meaningful if they weren't there, happy to watch me claim my award.

I'm going to stop this entry here, since I'm really tired and there is still school tomorrow. Will probably update this post later.

2006-04-14T23:55:00.000+08:00

Every student council nominee has got to do it. It was only a matter of time. Every task, every test and every challenge that the council has thrown at us was all do-able, nothing out of the ordinary, and this wasn't any different, but the one thing that made this an exception in its own way, was that fear and anxiety caused by unknown and oblivious factors surrounded it. With each day creeping nearer to it, that mist of fear grows thicker. Now that the day as arrived, that anxiety has grown to a stage where everything I see was a literal blur.

Or maybe it was because I choose not to wear my glasses. If I have to do something like this, I would rather see a blur than being able to see every minute detail that frightened me. It seems funny though, that it is only in times like these, I become aware of every little thing that happens around me.

My turn came sooner than expected, due to the front few people who decided to give up their chances of becoming a student councilor. The guy, who went before me, came down showing all smiles and grinned from ear to ear. I'm not sure if he was doing that to show how grateful he was that he has completed what he needed to do, or because he was just simply forcing himself to be happy. Whatever it was, he walked by me, with his hands half-raised and palms open. On signal, I stepped forth from my position, hi-fived him, and made my way on-stage.

It wasn't the first time I was on-stage, neither was it the first time I addressed a crowd of a thousand people. But to face that crowd, and be able to make an impact stronger than my other rivals was a bit of a problem, knowing that every gesture, every movement, and every action will be under the heavy scrutiny of the school, and the possibility of doing something stupid which can cause a wildfire of gossips and misinterpretations.

There was the applause, but it was given only because of the sake of courtesy. My eyes saw a blur of faces, all staring at me. If I wore my glasses then, I would have probably started shivering violently. I stationed myself in front of the mic-stand, and there was nothing but silence for that split-second. I needed to get their attention, I needed to make them lend me their ears, I needed to get them interested. And then, "it" kicked in.

"It" kicked in before, several times. Each time it did, I did things that I never thought was possible, I did things that I never though I could do, or would do. "It" did it again.

"Yo!" Don't ask me why I said that. All that mattered then, was it worked. The entire crowd responded with a roaring "Yo!". I smiled, and continued on. "Morning fellow Meridians. I'm Kenneth, candidate number 38, from 06S202, here to spend a minute to voice my say." My class cheered upon hearing them being called.

I was stunned for that split second, but "It" was in total control. "When a baby cries out in need for comfort or food, the mother comes to offer comfort to him, and feed him. I'm sad to say, I'm nobody's mother, unable to give you everything." That statement was followed up by a few sniggers from the crowd. "It" pressed on, "However, I am the voice of that baby, crying out the wants and desires of the student body." I must have said that in a fiercer tone, because people started cheering.

"It" refused to stop. "I stand here before all of you today, not because I desire the satisfaction of people looking at me, but because I am a firm believer in servant leadership." As the cheers got louder, I paused for another split second. "It" continues pressing on. "I serve you guys, by hearing out what you guys want, and giving it my best to satisfy those wants."

"When you take the number 38, and flip it around, you get the word "BE". And I BElieve this number is given to me BEcause I'm 'Born with a vision to BE the best, rising above the rest' (lyrics from the school song)." I think Meridians just love their school-song, because the moment I said that, they started applauding and cheering. "It" refused to stop, and continued on, shouting to the microphone now, trying to make myself heard above all the wolf-cries and claps.

I needed to say something to make them remember me, something that will leave an impression, such that they can recall that I was there. "So stand with me, and together we shall rise high like the 3rd and 8th finger of your hand, above all the other fingers!" I suppose that did the trick, because people started laughing. After giving a slight moment for the laughter to die down, I gave my last statement, "So allow me this opportunity to BE your voice, and together, we can BE the best. Vote for me, number 38. Thank you!"

I turned to walk off the stage, raising my hand to wave at my audience. As I walked down, I saw my fellow SC nominees pointing middle fingers at me with both hands, laughing at me, showing that they were amused by my attempt in analogy. I was feeling too dazed to feel "it" slip away from me, though something tells me "it" will be back to help me again, as always.

After returning to class and lessons, someone said to me that I gave my speech like S.M. Lee Kuan Yew. I suppose that’s a compliment and a real good one too. I simply smiled and said my thanks. It wasn't fully my doing anyway.

2006-04-05T22:28:00.000+08:00

There she was, standing before me, with eyes that scrutinized me with such fury; I seriously thought bullets would fire from them. She glanced at my work, and then peered over those sheets of paper to my spastic face, then looked down to the "name badge" on my uniform. Somehow, the words, "Vote For Me!!!" on that badge didn't seem as cute as I thought it was anymore. In fact, it seemed rather stupid in that situation.

Anyway, my situation in school is one hell of a ride. I'm literally juggling between school-work, CCA, sleep, and play. And as though those aren't enough to trouble me, I miraculously managed to be selected to run for the Student Council. Apparently, Meridian is really good at planning. Although the 60 of us are still council nominees, they are utilizing all the manpower they can use. They have the sadistic mindset of throwing us in charge of planning for events, programs, and other whatnots to raise $1000 at a generous budget of $50, with my group only having $20 to do a movie screening.

But that’s a different story, my main point is that I'm struggling to meet dead-lines, keeping on par with the never-ending list of tasks I have to complete, and still maintain a "good-boy" image to get the approval of the teachers and votes from students. That "good-boy" image just cracked.

It isn't the first time I didn't do my homework. Well, maybe the first time in Meridian. Honestly, I didn't even know there was such a piece of homework to do. Recalling that we were only given 1 day to complete it and I only managed to return home at 9 plus at night didn't help. "So why didn't you complete your work?" She said to me in Chinese, using an expressionless tone.

I would have explained myself and convinced her that it was beyond my control and all, but I had to do it in Chinese. I have amazing fluency in the Chinese language, unlike my command of English. So instead, I just succumbed and said, "No reason, I did not complete it because I did not complete it." Says it all already, don't you agree? I mean, the reason for me not completing my homework is simply because I didn't complete it. If there is some other reason, I would be able to overcome that challenge and complete my work in the first place.

It would have worked, if I didn't wear that hilariously enormous "name badge". Unfortunately, all Student Council nominees got to wear this huge name-tag badge thing that primary one school kids wear, to advertise themselves for votes and all. We are basically supposed to write our candidate number and name so they know who to vote for. Obviously, we all went to design eye-catching patterns on our own badge. I placed a little foot-note of "Vote For Me!!!" at the corner of my badge. I supposed it worked, since I now got a vote to not be in the council.

She continued glaring at me, and said in Chinese, "Don't tell me it's because of your student council work..." I shook my head upon hearing those words. Then she went up in front of the class, and lectured half of the people who didn't do the piece of work as well, about the standard few things, like dedication to work hard, giving a good-attitude in learning, and giving up opportunities if we can't cope. She made an extra emphasis on that last point, while looking at me. Obviously, she's hinting to me to drop my chances of getting into the student council.

So much for pragmatic society. The moment I put on that stupid badge, I am different from everyone else around me, even though we wear the same colour uniform, come from the same class, and study the same subjects. Its putting a stereotype image of a perfect student next to me the moment one can tell I'm a councilor nominee. I'm not allowed to be at ease with myself anymore.

I'm tired. I'll update everything else another time. I apologize to my blog readers about my entry frequency, I'm still trying to adapt to JC-life yeah?

2006-03-24T20:58:00.000+08:00

It's about time isn’t it? This little space of mine is starting to rot again, as usual. Wonder why though, the lack of time? Or the lack of substance to write about? Maybe a little of both rather. Anyway, I'm back, and hopefully haven't lost much touch with the blogging world.

School is hectic, period. Everyday is a rush, and I return home each day mentally tired. Mind you, there is a difference between being physically tired and mentally tired. When you are physically tired, you just can't move because your limbs just aren't listening to you. When you are mentally tired, everything around you is faint and nothing seems real anymore, literally. There was once when I was completing my tutorials and fell asleep due to extreme fatigue. My handphone rang and I dreamt that I answered the call. A few seconds later, I woke up and my handphone read "1 missed call". It's until the stage when I can't tell the difference between real and fake, reality and dream anymore. Well, that's JC life for all you JC-wannabes.

But well, that just proves the honeymoon first 3 months are over, and JCs do mean business now. And now that everyone's place in the school is confirmed, they are just going to go full steam all the way. Reminds me of the time during Secondary 1, when school-life begins to become more and more of a burden. Not the mention, the separation of the people whom I have grown to love and cherish, or in this case, person.

I had a good friend back in primary school (I was in Tao Nan by the way), and we used to be really close. Like peas and carrots, a pair of chopsticks, a mouse and keyboard, TV and a remote, well you get the picture. Back then at the age of 12, my personality was really fragile and extreme prone to chances. In other words, his influence caused much impact on the person whom I have grown to become, or rather the person who undertook the journey of teenage hood. I'm not too sure if I can say the same for him.

Needless to say, PSLE separated us, and he managed to get into a reasonable school, one that Tao Nan people are expected to go to. As for me, I got myself into the minority few who disgraced the school in a way. Obviously, in two different schools, living in two different locations on the island, and insane school timetables just made contact difficult. The rest of the story should be kind of apparent.

Back then, he was what I could call a best friend, and I was someone who he can do the same. It seems ironic that it is only when we were most ignorant of the world that we actually know the true meaning of friendship. The older we grow, the crueler we become. Two different schools have two different systems, and that will more or less produce two different people. I have grown into the misunderstood "piakia", and he have became someone of a different nature altogether. Someone who, more or less, abhors people of my type.

I don't like to put names in my entries, incase of misunderstandings and all. So if you happen to read this and you somehow match the description, don't worry, I'm not referring to you. :-)

But well, my lost of a best friend is a slow and painful process. One that people who know us both in the beginning can see and feel too, but have the grace of not saying anything, least it aggravates the situation. But the fact that I have become someone he dislikes didn't hurt at all. I have grown so stony by heart that I have grown accustomed to not having a best friend. So much so that I have even forgotten the true feeling of what it was like to have a best friend in the first place.

There is a difference between best friends, friends and acquaintances. Acquaintances are easy to meet, but friends are hard to find. I know it sounds cliché coming from me, but you only know the true value of something when you lose it. I lost it.

Rachel and Rowena, I know you guys are reading this, so I'm dedicating this entry to you. Don't lose each other like how I lost mine.

2006-03-11T22:19:00.000+08:00

As predicted, Temasek rejected me, even after appealing and all. Well, at least they bothered to call to say I was unsuccessful in getting in, rather than just leave me in the dark. Kind of heart breaking actually, but beats being clueless about it any day.

On the brighter note, I managed to get myself out of Tampines Junior College. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the school. I was just unlucky enough to see all the bad spots of the school, giving me quite a bad impression and all. But it is still a fine place to be for the first 3 months, they just have this air of "slackness" in the college. But well, maybe it is because of this "slackness" that deters their students from playing hard, let alone work hard when it comes to serious work.

Bottom line: not a place for me.

Well, I was half-convinced that Temasek was a place for me. The students there are damn fun to be with when they go high. They just have this tendency to make you high with them and join in for the ride. And they are really confident about themselves and the school. During the Q&A session with a HOD there, they didn't have any qualms about talking bad about Temasek, because they know that even with the black spots, they will still bring in the brightest and most talented students in the system. Says it all already actually, it is confidence in people that I admire.

Victoria Junior College is really out of the question with my O level score. But well, a man has every right to dream right? It was, after all, my dream college. The place where school spirit is really emphasized, and where you are treated like family, no matter where you come from, just as long as you wear that VJC badge on your collar. It is a place where people really know how to play hard, and work hard at the same time, whether it is in the evident or hidden form of studying. I guess all of that will just remain a dream...

But hey, Meridian isn’t that bad, seriously. Other than the fact that their retain rates are freaking me out. But considering that the college isn't even 10 years old yet, it has made quite an impact. I mean, only accepting people 11 points and below when it is still so young? Well, they got my "wow" factor there, just of a different version.

When I crashed MJC during the PAE period, I felt the school was rather spacious and empty, but was told that it was natural since the school used an open-air concept to build their campus. It is only now I realized, that it wasn’t because of the way it was built that caused that emptiness, but rather simply because I wasn't a Meridian to begin with, or at least not yet. I was simply a foreign particle in the school body.

The school had the grace to accept me when TJC rejected me. I figured that I would be stuck in MJC for the next year and a half, so I might as well convince myself to start appreciating MJC. I managed to do that, effortlessly. Well, not to the point that I LOVE the school and all, but at least to the point that it was able to cushion my fall from disappointment in not being able to be apart of Temasek.

Their orientation kicks TPJC's ass anytime, even though it was the second orientation. Normally, the second orientation will be more boring than the first, because the first one was all that matters, and the second one would be the "heck care and get it done and over with". But MJC's second orientation was really good. Kind of made me wish I could experience their first one. The orientation served its purpose. The empty space I felt when I crashed wasn't there anymore. There was spirit in Meridian, and to be honest, I never thought school that new would have something so strong.

On a side note, I got "sabo-ed" to perform during TPJC's orientation campfire; my group won Best Performance. This time, I got "sabo-ed" again to perform for MJC's campfire; my group won Best Performance, again. I'm just that good eh? (C'mon man! Praise me! =P).

I had fun. That’s all that is really needed to be said about the school. I'm going to have the time of my life in MJC. I can just feel it. Although I will still be praying hard I don't contribute to their retain rates.

2006-02-27T17:36:00.000+08:00

My monitor is finally up after eons of waiting in my room. About time too, I was starting to get bored without any thing to do all day. The new LCD is still 17 inches, just like the old convention one I was using before. But still, it looks huge. Maybe it's because I haven't stared into a monitor for ages, or maybe the monitor's stand just made me look up to the monitor. Whatever it is, it is kind of intimidating. But well, just a matter of time before I get used to it.

I'm still in need to get a video card for my computer. My current one is rather out-dated, since most of the games they produce nowadays require a pixel shader component, something which my Geforce 4 doesn't have. I'm still having problems deciding on when to get it though, since my schedule is packed like crazy, and Sim-Lim Square isn't exactly near to home. Will probably do video-card hunting before the starting of the next term, since when the JCs start to move full-steam, I can't really afford to spend time doing such things.

Anyway, before my computer came back alive and all, a strange mood struck me. When it did, I suddenly felt as though I needed to tidy up everything in my sight. And that really freaked me out, because I lived a life full of mess and unorganization. Well, organized in a way, but still unorganized such that everything was literally everywhere.

My room was already packed actually, not exactly extremely clean, but at least tidy enough such that it is conducive enough for anyone to study and sleep in. But then, my mood made my venture into an area I never dared to explore. For no rhyme or reason, I opened my toy-cabinet. Yes, my room still contained toys, but ever since Primary 5, I have neglected my little friends, and simply left them to rot at the corner of my room. I have actually forgotten about their existence until just, when my fingers moved itself to their location.

But that’s when the sense of nostalgia kicked in. My sudden mood made me pull out everything there was in the cabinet. Bit by bit, as I touched each toy and pulled it out of the darkness inside, memories of me as a little boy revived inside of me. I remembered exactly how my little fantasy world looked like, and the roles each little object in that cabinet played. I missed those memories. There were 4 compartments in the cabinet. Once I removed the antiques from the first compartment, the thick smell of nostalgia was too strong for me to clean up the other three.

As I placed the toys into the garbage bag, I recalled the times when I wouldn't throw away anything simply because it was broken, and still continued to play with it. Each toy wasn't simply a thing back in those days; they were a part of me, a friend to me. And now, I so heartlessly throw them into the black bag whose destiny lies in the thrash.

I converted that section of the cabinet into a place where I would place all my computer stuff like spare mouse, DSL modem, and the works. I feel old, now that the cabinet felt dull compared to the colourful objects that once filled the entire cabinet. I guess it's only human to really start appreciating things when they're gone.

2006-02-19T16:05:00.000+08:00

I have been inactive for quite some time. No, it isn't because I'm too lazy to write an entry, or the inspiration didn't hit me, quite the contrary actually. My computer monitor decided to crash all of a sudden. As a result, blank screen, as good as having the entire computer broken. I am resorted to using a friend's computer to type in my entries.

But well, everything happens for a reason right? I guess not having the computer to think about everyday made me revive the person who wasn't so...addicted, I shall say, to the cyber-world. And instantly, within a day or rather a few hours, I could tell why I depended on the computer so much. It’s because there isn't really anything else for me to do.

I'm bored. I mean it. I come back home everyday after school, and once I realize the computer is broken, I simply have nothing else to do. I end up stoning in front of the TV, complaining to myself that there is nothing good to watch, and then walk around the house like some idiot, and go back watching TV again. The same old routine keeps repeating itself a thousand times before I manage to get myself tired and get some shuteye.

I'm so bored that I'm cleaning up my room and doing my homework. Although its something that I always wish I had the mood to do, seeing myself actually with a neat room and homework all completed is scaring me. I'm just that restless.

Anyway, I made a trip to TJC's JAE program thingy for a little Q&A with some Head of Department there. I have always seen the institution from afar, but never really considered being a part of it. Perhaps its because I never had the self-esteem to think of myself studying in one of the top 5 junior colleges in Singapore.

I have got to admit, there is a significant aura about TJC. The minute I stepped into the campus, I suddenly feel a lot smarter. And take it from me, the rumors about TJC being a mugging school isn't entirely true. I mean, yes, there are a few people studying here and there, even though it’s still only the first 3 honeymoon months, but year one students will always be year one students. Because TJC was having some holiday where the students are allowed to wear their home clothes to school and all. And the students there really know how to dress to kill. Fine, maybe not that drastic, but good enough, considering that it is coming from a commonly believed nerd school.

But that’s a different story. The group of us was late for the JAE program, since it ended at 4, and we were there at 4.30. Can't really blame us, because our lessons finish at 4.10. Anyway, they agreed to entertain us. We were asking questions like crazy to the teacher there, and he did answer all of them accordingly. But the one question that really stood out from everything else was, "So what is the cut off score of getting into TJC?"

Takes the cake really, if you can't get into the school, no point asking 101 questions. He followed up by giving a list of statistics and factors, and concluded that the cut off score is more or less 8 points. And the cut off score hasn't fluctuated much, except for the lowering it to a 7 points, but that was during dragon year.

The bottom line is, according to his words, "You have a score of 10 minus 2 meaning a net score of 8. It is a bit difficult to get in, but you stand a fighting chance. Most of the people here are staying after their first 3 months, and most of them are single pointers by raw score. Which means the turn-out will only be about 200 plus."

In other words, it’s as good as me waving good-bye to TJC. It made me realize, it doesn't matter how much you get, but rather what you do with what you get. My score can easily get me a place into a reasonable JC, but well, I'm still human, and contaminated by greed (or determination, whatever you want to call it), I always go for the best I can get, no matter the odds.

But I really want to get into a well-known school. It simply adds to the "wow" factor, something that somehow allows you to be treated above the rest, even though they claim having a pragmatic society. I am going to be very honest, I am not proud to come out of Dunman Secondary. It's not about the people, not the teachers, but more of the name.

When I say I'm from Dunman Secondary, people tend to look at me with bright smiles and exclaim, "Wha! Dunman High arh?!" And then I would smile and reply, "Nono, Dunman secondary, the one in Tampines..." And they will follow up by saying, "Oh, I see," when in their minds they go "Chey!"

If not, it is the ever popular, "Got such school arh?!" It is as if I'm going to a school that doesn't exist.

But my parents said to me once that it isn't about where you come from; it is about the outcome. I'll have to say I believe in those words since I am a walking example of the saying. Still, I want them to be happy that I'm in a good school, so that they can relax and be glad for me.

Well, faith always loves to play games with me. I have yet to know why, but they range from weird things like breaking my arm so that I can't go for track training, to getting myself into a horrible civics group. Somehow, I get the impression that God doesn't want me to stay in Tampines Junior College, even though I miraculously managed to get in with a prelim score of 20 while they wanted 14 points and below.

I guess in times like these I'll have to let faith have its move. Besides, all I can do now is sit and wait.

2006-02-11T16:53:00.000+08:00

I lay in bed, with my mind going so wild, it seemed almost impossible to just calm it down for me to get some shut eye for the next day. Actually, my intention was to not sleep at all, but there was something bugging to go to school, like some gut feeling. So, having proved itself right several times, I went ahead to recharge my batteries so I don't collapse halfway the next day. But as predicted, my mind was in chaos, and I was literally shaking. I couldn't even bring myself to shut my eyes, in fear of seeing that premonition. I was just that scared.

Then, my father just came into the room. He was back from dinner with my mom since it was her birthday. I can't really remember the details, since my eyes were half-closed. He just walked to me, and said, "You can sleep anot? Tomorrow taking results right?"

I just showed a small smile, and gave him the usual reply of "can la", something which I always say whenever he ask me how I am. He returned the smile and said something like, "Well, you have done your best, so once you get your results, call us okay? Whether good or bad, call us." And then gave me a "good-luck" handshake.

I have no idea why, but hearing the words, "done your best" coming out from my father moved me. It’s as though he have finally given me his approval that he recognized my hard work. And that means a lot to me, because I have been trying to win over my parents’ approval for ages. It moved me enough to tear myself to sleep.

In school during the next day, that scene kept replaying itself over and over again in my head. I tried holding my tears back, so as to not draw any unnecessary attention. But once my chemistry period was up, I just found a table outside class, rested my head on my folded arms on the table, and released everything.

Apparently, my civics group people really suck at reading emotions, and didn't give me much privacy even though it was rather obvious that I needed it. But well, who am I to blame them, I suck at expressing myself well anyway. It took me a while to get my red eyes back to their normal shade of white in the toilet before I allowed myself to walk to class.

I managed to hold, until I watched "I Not Stupid Too" for the second time with a group of TPJC friends. It was funny that when I watched it the first time with my family, it didn't really move me that much. But watching it with friends, and with the nagging thought of getting the O level results really soon, the feel was just different. I didn't really pay any attention to the movie, since it was the second time, but rather, that same scene of my father giving me support kept playing in my head like a broken video player. And together with the sad music of the movie scene that somehow really complimented with each other simply made me tear. Well, the cinema was dark, so hopefully, no one saw, or maybe they did, but they didn't make a big hoo-ha out of it.

But on the way home, when I was alone, and with no one watching me, I just allowed myself to tear. It made me realize how much I would disappoint my parents if I couldn't get a good O level score. And to disappoint them again with something this big was painful to me. To see their jaded expressions and worried faces pained me.

Walking to Dunman was no different. As though walking down memory lane, I recalled the times when I first brought back my report book back home during Secondary 1, the times I topped my Secondary 2 class, and my struggle with Secondary 3 & 4. And how it made my parents sad each time I didn’t perform to expectations during each examination.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not some mummy's boy. But I really do love my parents, and that really changed my perception in life. Put bluntly, I don't care what O level results I get. I don’t mind getting exactly 20 points and get to some JC somewhere far from home. But that would definitely pain my parents. I want to be someone they can be proud of, someone they can just look at, and know that they have raised me well.

I was shivering with fear when I collected my results from my form teacher. Once the slip was in my hands, I rushed out of the hall, to an isolated corner with no one, and called my father without even seeing my results yet. I read out my results to him, and told him to help me count since I was shaking like crazy, and my mind in no state to do calculations. I didn't care about my grades; neither did I care about my score. But my father's words after that moved me to tears. "Congratulations, 10 is a good score."

Upon hearing "good", I know that I have made them proud. It is even making me cry while typing this, recalling his happy voice and his words of approval. My mom was obviously in a better mood, since she is the more expressive parent.

I feel good, not because I managed to get a good L1R5, but because I was finally able to make my parents smile.

2006-02-06T00:27:00.000+08:00

And here I am, out of the blue, by some seer force of nature, miraculously, I'm writing an entry in the middle of the night, when I should be in bed, in dreamland, giving my mind and body some well-earned rest to prepare myself for the next day. Put simply, the one reason why I'm here instead of being held down by the powers of the bed and blanket is because I don't have to go to school tomorrow, or rather not as early as everyone else need to.

Finally, after 4 weeks of immobilization of my left wrist, I manage to bring my street-smart mother with me for the doctor's appointment tomorrow, such that she will be able to help me talk my way out of wearing a cast. I guess 50 bucks per visit to the hospital is more than enough to summon my parents to take action. And its about time too, my wrist is dying to move, and the stiffness of my muscles are killing me. Hopefully, just hopefully, this damned thing will be off my hand by tomorrow, unless faith decides to be cruel to me, again.

And the reason why I'm blogging instead of doing something else this late at night is because the anticipation for my O level results are excruciating. Even though I already know I will be scoring an L1R5 of a terrible 18 points, I'm not convinced until I see my result slip with my own eyes. It wasn't like this in the beginning of the year. It's just that with each passing day, the anticipation for the results get accumulated more and more, so much so that it is reaching a point that it will be a matter of time before I burst right out and start cursing the Ministry Of Education, insulting their lack of efficiency in the process.

It is kind of comforting to know that I'm not alone in this "big wait". Almost everyone is dying to know their results, whether good or bad or just in between. Its, "hurry up and get it over with" attitude. Seriously makes me feel right at home. And the most hilarious thing about the "big wait", are the rumors. The date originally was 15th February, then becoming 7th, then to 6th, then now to the 10th. I don't know what to believe anymore.

Whatever the date, all I need to know is that it is coming, and a massive load of tissue paper is needed to embrace it, whether it’s to wipe off tears of joy or sadness and disappointment. Somehow, my intuition tells me it will be the latter for me, and my intuition is rarely wrong. It's scaring me in a sense, that I possess just lack of confidence. Rather unnatural if you ask me, but if there is a reason for it, I think it will be because the vision of getting utterly disgusting results will come true. And utterly disgusting does not mean a 1 digit score, but more like a 2 digit score.

I'm scared. I have always been since I realized the big O was only a few months away. Now that the wave is over, the post-Big O effects are still evident. Each time I think about what my results will be like, the image of 18 points keep haunting me. It brings shivers to me each time I think about it. It made me think about having expectations and setting aims.

I guess it is good to have goals and aims in life. But sometimes, I can't help but agree that it’s better not to have too many expectations, because most of the time, it is a common sight to fall short of expectations. And because of falling short, I end up getting lost and disappointed. Maybe it is good to be spontaneous once in a while, forget expectations, and deal with what life give you.

It’s like playing a game of poker, or rather in Singapore terms, Mahjong. To win the game with skill, you can't decide what kind of card combination you want to make without looking at your starting deck. You still got to look at what you have, and swiftly create the highest multiplier card combination before anyone else does to win the game. I think that’s what people call, flexibility, or the ability to adapt well.

Whatever it is, I'm not setting any expectations for my O level results, although I do intend to remain in a JC, whether it is migrating to a better JC or to remain in TPJC, because I seriously do not know what to do in a Polytechnic. I have yet to discover what I'm good at. Anyway, my plan now is just get the results, and plan from there. Rather than plan now, and get every crushed because I can't make the cut off.

2006-02-03T21:08:00.000+08:00

I don't feel so good. Which is probably why I came running back to my blog after not posting an entry for a few weeks. I guess I still got to work on the frequency of my blog updates. Unfortunately, my arm is still in a cast, which means I'm having a little trouble typing at the moment.

Apparently, that day I went for my appointment, the doctor made me put on another cast before sending me for an X-ray. After getting the results, he simply left my hand in the state it was, that being still stuck in a cast, except that this time, the cast was a hard one. My parents aren't really amused by the fact that it appeared as though my condition is getting from bad to worse, and the fact that for every visit I pay to the hospital, I'm needed to pay about 50 bucks for each "treatment". I'm still confused with what the hospital really wants from me. First, they sent me home saying my hand was just sprained, then they called me back, saying it is a fracture, and now they put me in a hard cast even though they said "your X-ray looks fine". I can't really be blamed for being pissed off at the hospital now, can I?

As though my situation isn’t bad enough, it has to be aggravated by me being evidently kicked out of the track team, even though no official word has been said yet. The trials have gone by, and because of my situation, its obvious I'll be chased out of the track if I did turn up for trials. Well, put simply, since all the trials have been made, and I'm not in any event, it probably means its as good as not being on the track team, since I'll be doing all the "helping out" instead of "participating" since I'm not really representing the school and all. Just like that, my childhood aspiration has been crushed.

I don't know why it hit me, but all of a sudden, I miss my grandparents. Well, actually just my grandma, since I've never seen my grandfather before. During the 3rd day of Chinese New Year, my family went visiting to Malaysia to catch up with relatives who were siblings of my dead grandparents. I can't help but notice the family resemblance, on how much my grand-mother's sisters actually look and behave just like her when she was still around and alive. It made me remember memories when I was still about 5 or 6 years old, when she was still sane, and was extremely wise. It seemed strange that I never really given any thought my grandparents' existence back then. I guess it is part of the human nature to appreciate things once they are gone. Maybe it’s in my blood, or genes, whatever you want to call it, but I have always respected my grandmother, and appreciated my Chinese name very much, simply because she was the one who gave it to me.

It made me realize my own parents are getting old. It’s becoming harder and harder to ignore the fact that my parents are starting to age, even though they still got to support me for another few more years. People of their age should be embracing retirement, relax and enjoy. Instead, they choose to continue working just because I'm still stuck in the education system. Says it all already actually.

I had some sort of premonition recently, regarding the outcome of my O level results. Don't ask me how or why, because I'm just as clueless. But for some reason, I'm really confident that I'll be scoring an L1R5 of 18 points. Those points contain subjects like E and A math being either a 1 or a 2, the rest of my subjects getting either a 3 or 4, and Chinese a 5. It just came out of the blue amidst my train of thought, and then, I just saw my result slip, with all the pretty numbers decorated on it. It isn't the first time I get funny predictions like that, and whenever I do get these kinds of thoughts, I'm usually right. As much as it is scaring me, I have never been so confident about a premonition before. I'll probably be crying my eyes out once I prove that I'm right, or somehow get a score that is worse off than what I predict.

There was something else I realized today. Or rather I have already realized it quite some time ago, but never really given it any importance, since I thought it was false in a way. I have always joked about finding a girlfriend during first 3 months, and break up with her once the last month is nearly over. Ironically, it’s only now that I'm able to capture the exact punch line of my own joke.

I have never acknowledged it in anyway, and simply shook it off, thinking that it was just my imagination playing a fool as usual. Now that she is gone, or rather, out of my reach, I guess I should be grateful that she's progressing, and moving ahead and all. Besides, it’s about seeing her being happy, not just make myself happy. I thought I was in love.

And apologies for the lack of pictures. I'm not in a good mood, so I'm reverting back to my old blogging style, just to pen down thoughts before I go crazy just bottling them up.

2006-01-20T16:55:00.000+08:00

I know it is a bit late for me to write about this. In fact, I'm a week late. But well, who can blame me? It’s hard to get yourself into a blogging mood when you can only type with one hand. Anyway, school has started with a universal time-table for everyone. This means, a lot of free periods in between. And usually with kids, the more free time they have, the higher the chances of them doing something stupid.

I guess I'm still a kid by nature.

As much as I like to blame my tragedy on the curse of Friday 13, I suppose this kind of misfortune happens once in a while to everyone. For no apparent rhyme or reason, I lost my voice on Thursday. There were no symptoms of a sore throat, and I was still able to talk as normal on the previous day. But once I woke up, there was a slight ache in my throat, and all that came out of my mouth when I tried to speak were whispers. My mom had to boil some herbal mixture for me which caused me flush my bladder every half an hour or so. Kind of irritating if you ask me, having to answer nature's call every 30 minutes.

Thus, on the damned day of Friday 13, I couldn't even speak. As though that isn't enough, I had to sprain my hand during a short game of basketball I played during a free period. I had the ball, I went for the lay-out, and suddenly the basketball court became extremely slippery, causing me to lose my balance and fall down, sliding on my hand in the process. It didn't appear very serious at first, until my left wrist suddenly swelled up, making it look a lot larger than my right hand.

Anyway, apart from the pain, I thought everything was fine. So I didn't care about it and went for class as normal and all, thinking I could hold off until the next day to see a doctor. All was okay, until I had to go for track trials for field events. Obviously, in my condition, I couldn't do any throwing of objects and all. But apparently, I had to be so spontaneous to give everything a try. So there I was, at the long jump station, running towards that white line, and then doing that "leap of fate". Fate was cruel to me, making me land on my left hand. A teacher saw the pain in my face that he insisted on sending me to the hospital. His reason was "to check for any fractures in the wrist, because it looks serious".

I couldn't reject him, even though at the back of my mind, I kept saying that I was alright. Anyway he gave me a lift there, gave me some cash to pay my bills before leaving me. Seriously, I felt fine at that time, except for the occasional pain whenever I needed to use my left hand. I went ahead for the checkup, and the doctor sent me for an X-ray to check if there were fractures or abnormalities going on in that swelled up hand. I couldn't get a good picture regarding the X-ray, only the words in front of the room, but it'll do.

So after waiting for a bit, the doctor called me back in and said something about, "cannot confirm if there is a fracture or not, so better to be on the safe side". Apparently, that "safe" side meant, my hand was going to be wrapped like a dumpling. I think the hospital had a little too much material to spare, because even though my hand was just sprained, they used a lot of it to wrap my hand. They wrapped my hand, not just the wrist, making me look as though I have been through some major disaster.

Check it out man.

Apparently, with a hand encased like that, it’s hard to give the impression that I'm okay for track training. Meaning, I can't go for trials, meaning that now I don't even know if I should stay in the track team instead of going for some other CCA. That Friday was supposed to be the day I solve my CCA dilemma. That damned curse of Friday 13 made it worse.

And Friday 13 wasn't over yet. When I was about to take the bus home, I realized my ez-link card went missing. I must have left it in the hospital when they asked for verification of my identity. I only realized that when I reached home, and I was already too depressed to go back to look for it.

Gee, thanks man.

Maybe my luck last week was really lousy. Anyway, sunlight always looks better after rain. I suppose good luck will be on its way, since most of the bad luck already came to me for this year. Personally, I have never believed there were such things as a "curse of Friday 13" and more of acknowledged it as a way to have a little fun here and there. I guess I'm evidence that such coaxes may actually exist.

So tell me, is there really a "curse of Friday 13"? =)

2006-01-12T19:55:00.000+08:00

The weather has been kind of wet lately. It is really a major contrast from last year, when it was so hot; it was as though we were facing some kind of drought. The atmosphere was scorching, and patches of green everywhere were fading to a dry yellowish-brown colour. Everyone seems to have forgotten the major heat wave, but I still remember, because walking home in that type of weather is a real pain.

Anyway, wet day or not, school still continues, even though its so damn "shiok" to sleep on when it’s raining. It somehow makes the bed a little warmer and more comfortable to snuggle in.

After orientation, the next aspect about getting into a new school is a brand new choice of CCAs. Apparently, one thing which I didn't like about Dunman was that the variety of CCAs it had was a little limited. Something tells me that TPJC actually have only an average amount of different types of CCAs catered to the student body, but for me, it was large enough to give one a real headache. Yes, the old problem of too many choices, only one can be made. Sometimes, I really think I suck at making choices.

Old problems call for old solutions, so I took the old routine of eliminating those that I never cared about all my life and heck about all its advertisements, in case it sparks an interest in me and make me go nuts wondering when was I ever interested in such things. Even so, there is still quite a number of CCAs.

For one, there is canoe-ing (or kayaking, whatever they want to call themselves). I figured since I already have canoe-ing (or kayaking, whatever you want to call it) experience, might as well give this a shot.

Then again, training will be rather tough, and it can't be held in the college, but rather some where far off where I got to be willing to travel up and down from. And er...let's just say my experience in the kayak was er... overly-memorable.

And then, there is the choir.

I know it sounds crazy coming from me, but I can actually sing. During the orientation, there were forced choir auditions for all J1 students, due to the lack of manpower, I heard, or something likes that. I don't know it is true or not, because I didn't actually see it with my own eyes, but my orientation group was laughing at me like crazy because I aced their auditions with a score of 4/5 even though I sang rather mono-toned.

I suppose there is a reason behind every strange occurrence, but this is really absurd. Anyway, word has it that they are going to force those with a reasonably high score to join the choir, which is something I have never even think about or imagined at all, considering my imagination runs extremely wild at times.

And there is the track and field team, which I also got in through forced selections too during PE lessons. I joked with a friend about how much importance the school placed in the track team, since they dedicated like half the campus to track and field itself. Well, it is kind of the true in a sense, since the track stadium encompasses a third of the land area of the college.

I have no idea why I even came for their first few training, since I haven't really firmly decided on which CCA to take up in the first place. And ever since I entered the NCC, the image of me being a runner just faded away. But I turned up anyway. Perhaps I was just bored.

As expected, training was "xiong" due to the fact that I haven't trained my body in ages. Its a bitter-sweet feeling actually, to feel your body ache and scream in pain, while knowing that because it is aching and screaming in pain, it is actually getting stronger in the process.

Anyway, I have always wanted to join the track team since Primary school. I mean it when I say Tao Nan produces one of the finest track and field athletes. Fine to the point that it not only show on the track, but on their personalities, character, and their studies too. It inspired me to join the track team once I get myself into a secondary school.

But to my utter disappointment, Dunman secondary has to be so budget in their money and not invest a little more to form a track team. I'm just kidding about the budget bit.

But seriously, I was really disappointed when I discovered Dunman didn't have track and field. And joining NCC because I didn't know what else to join simply took that runner image I had of myself and erased it away. The runner image is back now that the opportunity is presented. That image looks different from what I remembered. I guess time can change one's perspective in things tremendously.

There were other CCAs I signed up for too, but I'm simply too lazy to write such a long entry. I decided to try for the track team, since it was my childish aspiration. This Friday is the trials for all events, so if I can't seem to find any event I'm good at, I probably find me another CCA or so.

I mean, if I can't do any event, I'll be doing all the lame things in the track team and not represent the school in doing any running, throwing, etc. In other words, might as well not join the track team in the first place. So well, we'll see how it goes. I always believe time will tell in the end, about things you don't know or are unsure about. If I'm destined to join the track team, I'll know by this Friday. Unless destiny decides to play a really sadistic game of confusion with me...

2006-01-08T14:32:00.000+08:00

Just as I predicted, time did tell in the end. And I was right about enjoying myself in JC. Apart from the badly organized program, I guess orientation was a blast.

The one true thing which I have come to appreciate about this orientation apart from the others, was that college a little nearer than Dunman (both schools are just next door, but TPJC is slightly nearer to home).

Nah, I'm just kidding. But seriously, that was all I had in mind when I was walking to college. I'm not a big fan of change, and I hate surprises, especially since I have no idea how to prepare for them. I'm thankful for one thing though, that being that half my class got in TPJC as well, making the environment a little less hostile, since there are actually people I know.

Many things happened during orientation, but nothing much that was out of the ordinary. The usual cheer for nothing, doing stupid things, and the "move to wait, wait to move" routine. And the fact that orientation was stretched over a gruesome 4 days was kind of exhausting.

Djs from 98.7fm came over to TPJC during the orientation. Now that was something I wasn't expecting. But being the usual skeptical me, I think it’s a damn good way of advertising.

Quite a number of Tao Nan people got in TPJC too. And many of them were like staring at me, "you from Tao Nan right? I remember your face, can't remember your name." Obviously, I was the blur idiot who don't even remember the face of the person who claimed to know me. But I just smiled and said the same thing, even though there could be a possibility that we probably don't even know each other in primary school anyway.

My ex-Tao Nan friends actually thought I was from Victoria even though I made it known that I was from some average neighbourhood school. Says it all really, I was born to be in places where I'm different from the rest.

The theme for the orientation was vintage/retro, can't remember which, but it’s along that line. So during the orientation night performance, it had to fit the theme. Our group decided to do a fashion show or something like that, vintage style. Having different themes for each sub-group.

My sub-group "sabo-ed" me to represent them for the performance. And I humiliated myself by being the Pink Panther for the performance. Well, there goes my reputation, if I had any in the first place. Anyway, amidst the humiliation, I tried to have fun, so as to not feel so bad

Let's just say pink isn't such a good colour after all... But well, I did have fun acting cool. I mean, come on, admit it, I look good right? =P The group won best performance award, so I guess it was worth it in the end.

It wouldn't have been a good orientation without a good 0rientation group. There are one of the friendliest people I know and one of the most supportive too. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be able to walk up on stage in front of 700 plus people dressed in pink. We stuck together through the 4 days, through sweat, mud, sore-throats, and laughter. Thanks to them, I was able to enjoy myself fully and just go high without a care in the world.

Who knows where I would be without you guys man.

Although there is one thing I got to point out, TPJC is smaller than I thought...

2006-01-01T23:03:00.000+08:00

Well, guess it’s a wrap for 2005. It's funny that I once thought it was going to be one of the longest years I have ever lived, since it had all the O level tension surrounding it. I guess you only come to appreciate things once they are gone.

Anyway, the New Year count-down was as typical as any other year; all the fake expression and smiles to show a facade of excitement for the New Year, while actually feeling nothing towards welcoming the New Year. Maybe I'm just being skeptical, but after seeing so many years pass by me, I'm just simply too tired to appreciate the coming of 2006. Someone help me, I'm becoming more dead as I grow older. I used to so alive and vibrant...now I'm just so...grey...

As usual, there was a family gathering at my uncles pan house condominium, since it had enough space to hold my father's side of 8 siblings and their own families. I used to love family gatherings when I was young, because it gets me out of home and out of boredom. The change of environment for me when I was 10 years younger somehow amazes me. However, I grew older, and unfortunately, more dead as well. Now family gatherings are excuses for me to stone. It’s sad to see myself being so jaded while facing a festive Christmas tree at my uncle’s place. Makes me feel kind of guilty really.

Just like I told Calvin, in every gathering, there must be a standard hypnotic equipment in the middle of the room that can make everyone just sit down and stare into blank space for the entire evening, and yet, go home feeling as though many things has been accomplished. I'm talking about the television set, and wider screen does make a difference, especially if you got cable channels; it just makes people just sit longer.

But nah, I'm not that dead to just fall victim to the captivating powers of TV the whole evening. Food was good, and I finally had time to do a lot of thinking, literally a lot of thinking. Kind of like, finally being about to keep in touch with myself. And man, it has been a while, a really long while. It’s good to see myself again really.

Anyway, I don't really like gatherings. They have the tendency of making me feel guilty. Especially since this is my O level year. With all my relatives asking me where the hell I will be going in 2006, it reminded me about how badly I did for my prelims, and the prospects of doing just as well for my O levels. Knowing that my cousin made it to TJC while I barely made it to TPJC made me feel inferior in a sense. Kind of like how I barely made it to Dunman Secondary, while she got into TKGS when we were back in primary 6. Competition really sucks sometimes. But I can't hate her, because I'm a real sucker for a pretty face.

But gatherings do have their bright side. It is kind of like the only time I get to drink alcohol in front of my parents without disapproval or offending them in anyway. And being a typical Singaporean, I took advantage of that bright side. The apple wine was so good, I kept going for seconds. The entire place was so messy after the count-down; my uncle didn't even know who he was pouring wine for. I ended up seeing blur before I stopped. It isn’t time for me to get drunk yet, isn’t time...

But I have been drinking since the age of 14, so I guess I managed to hide my semi-drunk state pretty well, considering that I couldn't see sharp images in my eyes well, even with my glasses on.

So it’s 2006 already, and school will be starting soon. I guess this holiday was a blast, since it was considerably a more fruitful holiday as compared to previous experiences. The idea of getting into a new school is still killing me, although my gut feeling is telling me that I'm going to enjoy myself there like I never had before in school. Well, guess time will tell...time will tell...

2005-12-30T00:08:00.000+08:00

The one pattern that is always evident in every holiday, the scene of me waking up extremely late or having problems walking out of bed on time. I woke today at around 9.30, which is actually one of the earliest times I've woken up during this holiday. After fighting with my pillows and blankets for about an hour or so, I managed to walk out of my room at about 10.30, a new record so far. I'm still wondering how the hell I'm going to wake up in time when school reopens.

Anyway, I lazed around the house until about 2 or so before leaving home. I had to get a passport photo for my CLT course form. Don't ask me why, but somehow, I'm convinced to actually go for the damn course after all. Don't even bother asking me why I didn't go for the November intake, because I myself don't know. As much as I hate to say this, NCC does have its ways of pulling back their cadets. Since I was out, I went over to Prab's to collect my supernumerary shirt. To be honest, its one of the things I have been eye-ing like crazy since I entered supernumerary, apart from the golden lanyard. Cliché as it sounds, but once I wore the grey polo-tee, I felt as though I have gained some power of some sort.

It felt weird going back to school. I mean, before I graduated from Dunman, and I was needed back in school, I actually know that I'm going to see a few familiar faces. And that was good, because it brings a form of friendly air in the campus. The air in school today still had the "welcome-ness" as usual, but the warmth I used to feel was gone. The atmosphere was stale and stagnant. Well, maybe the air was humid after the rain.

As quoted from the words of John Mayer, "Fathers, be good to your daughters". So I went

present hunting, hoping to get something substantial for my daughter's birthday. I have come to realize that I really suck at present hunting, especially if the recipient is a girl. I either give presents that aren't really suitable for the occasion or the relation I have with the person, or I give presents that can be bluntly classified as cheap-skate. It makes me feel kind of guilty that they always smile, say thank you, and accept it anyway. Somehow, the saying "it’s the thought that counts" can feel false at times. Anyway, I did get something for Iris. Being the sweet girl she is, she just took it and said thank you, with guilt of being cheap-skate crushing my insides. Well, "it's the thought that counts" right?!

And yes, this post has pictures! I'm trying out a new blogging style, since I got a camera phone and I suddenly have this photo frenzy. Hopefully it will make me appear livelier, instead of the dead, depressed old entries I always write.

2005-12-28T20:59:00.000+08:00

So I'll check the weather wherever you are, cause I wanna know if you can see the stars tonight. It might be my only right...

And I thought just a moment ago, my last O level paper just ended. Pretty soon, I'll be stepping through the gates of a new school. The idea of having to adapt to a new environment is scaring me. I guess I'm just someone who isn't a big fan of change.

Miraculously, I managed to get into Tampines Junior College with a raw score of 20, when 15 points was the requirement. Even with the CCA point bonus of minus 2, it makes it an 18. That’s 3 complete points away from what they want. Well, faith has a funny way of bringing people to where they are supposed to be. Perhaps I got some role to serve in TPJC. lol =P

Something tells me I'm going to enjoy myself in TPJC. I can't seem to find evidence of exactly why or how, but that something tells me my JC life is going to be good.

I feel old. I'm not ready to phrase out from the teenager period. I'm already 16. Before I know it, I'll be 18 and be forced to serve national service. And soon, I'll be forced to get a job... Things are really going way too fast for my liking.

I don't intend to stay in TPJC though. I'll be praying hard to get a place in Meridian JC. Although I think after 3 months in TPJC, I'll be persuaded somehow to stay on somehow.

I asked myself why I take the trouble and go to school for anyway. I only managed to come up with 3 answers; Allowance, In hope to get a girl-friend, To get a Cert big enough to get me a reasonable job in the future. Sometimes I think I live a life that’s already as good as dead.

Anyway, this blog is back alive. If the page seems empty, it’s only because of writers block. I've decided to do double posting, because my hands are itching to do some html. But mind you, that doesn't mean that I'm going to stop posting in campusmoblog.

2005-09-25T21:38:00.000+08:00

Well, I've been gone for quite some time. My computer decided to go bonkers all of a sudden, and I didn't have the time to go fix it. With all the night classes coming up and practice papers given as homework, it’s going to be a long time before I post another entry. Especially with the up-coming O levels, to find the time to do self-reflection on things that don't concern the books will be tough.

But I'll try to keep my blog page alive. I do get bored and a little edgy when I don't have anything to pen my thoughts down. And when I'm bored and edgy, information gets rejected from my mind, making studying a tad difficult.

Anyway, my prelim results are in, except that I'm not proud of it enough to show-case it to everyone. I guess that kind of explained how well I did. Well, at least my words proved my right. I Can get to a JC, just a matter of which one. And the choices that I'm limited to aren't really favourable.

And the meet-the-parents session didn't help my situation much either. At the back of my mind, I was hoping they would say that the prelim results are not a direct reflection of what’s going to happen for the O levels. Instead, the principal simply said, "If your son gets 18, 19 or 20 for his L1R5, it’s a bit difficult to get into a JC..." At the corner of my eye, my parents were wincing in pain.

On the bright side, I did improve rather drastically as compared to mid-year. And I did study substantially more than what I did for mid-year. Unfortunately, the improvement just isn't enough. And as though my fate has been cursed, all my subjects are on par, literally on par. I have no strong subjects, neither do I have any weak areas (well, except for Chinese, but I don't intend to include that in my L1R5). And that’s bad, because I was hoping that this examination will identify what I'm weak in and what do I work on, and probably show a few strengths I have to motivate myself.

With my current situation of all B3s and B4s, I don't know whether to be demoralized by the fact that I don't really have a strong point to depend on, or just be glad that my subjects are strong enough to avoid achieving a mere C grade or even a failure grade.

My parents are afraid. I can sense it. But as usual, they just keep quiet and put up happy faces, hoping that their concern would not add any extra pressure on me that will lower my already bad grades. I have a feeling my teachers can sense it too, when my parents talked to them to see if any advice can be given. I couldn't bring myself to hear them out. Each time I set my eyes on my subject teachers, I am reminded of the subject and how I did for the paper.

I am afraid. I try to tell myself not to since there are other alternatives I can always take if I can't make it to the JC of my choice. The little kid in me is convinced, but I know at the back of my mind, that I will never be satisfied with an alternative route. Never...

2005-09-17T15:39:00.000+08:00

You know what; screw the crap about campusmoblog being less user-friendly than blogspot or blogdrive. The problem with me is that I grow my roots in certain areas too early. I hate to admit it, but I'm stuck on campusmoblog. Since I've blogged and poured my emotions here for a while, there’s a part of me that’s a little reluctant to leave this little space of mine. So I guess I'll find some way to juggle two blogs. Who knows, perhaps I'll resort to double-posting, even though it seems a little lame.

Anyway, the prelims are over; for my school that is. For some reason, Dunman is like one of the only few sadistic schools which make her students do prelim exams way earlier ahead of other schools. When we are doing our last paper, other schools are just merely started with their practical papers. Says it all really.

But fast or not, the feel of this examination was really different, as compared to previous exam periods. For one, this prelim period was stretched over a gruesome 3 weeks, including the holidays in the middle, if it’s even considered a holiday in the first place. However, it felt as though it ended too soon. I mean, the other exam weeks that were shorter in length felt as though it lasted forever, but the prelims just ended without me realizing it. I guess time really is relative to the observer.

Secondly, after the completion of my last paper (which happened to be A math paper 2), I didn't receive this "shiok" feeling like I normally would for any exam. Its like, I've been through hell to mug and revise as much as my mind and heart would allow me, and once I'm out of that hell hole, I would feel as though something would spring me out of that hell hole and move me a step closer to heaven. The spring didn't appear during the prelims.

Maybe it’s because my bio-clock is telling me the limited amount of days I have till the big O. And since I barely passed my first big O paper, that part of me is still in fear of history repeating itself.

Stressful environment we all are living in uh. It's one big rat race where all of us are struggling to reach the cheese at the finishing line. And if you happen to fail to reach the cheese in time, you can't even work as a road-sweeper; they got Bangladesh workers for that job.

2005-09-11T00:08:00.000+08:00

Hey peeps. The competition is over. Which means, yes, I'm back on blogspot. And something tells me my journey though campusmoblog did a few changes to me, mainly on my blogging style. Somehow it feels a little different.

Anyway I'm back. And I seriously think I got to do something with my blogskin. Perhaps integrate something with my newly found basic photoshop skills after my prelims.

So I'm just posting this entry to revive back my blog into action, and just make it official that I'm back on blogspot. I'll kind of miss campusmoblog, since I'm more or less used to the system there. But I prefer it here, it feels more, homely. =P

2005-09-02T13:37:00.000+08:00

I posted this entry on my campusmoblog. But I figured that I need to do something to my blogspot just so it can be intact. So decided to post this one, because we need more supporters. And of course, please support the petition.

I know it’s rather late for me to comment on this. It has been like how many months since people have been complaining around and giving all sorts of views and comments about the change of uniform. But since I'm suddenly reminded about it, it sparked something in me which I can't ignore. Which is why I'm here blogging it down instead of mugging for my biology.

Anyway, the school has the sadistic idea of changing the boy's original white uniform into brown. It gives me shivers just picturing myself having to wear brown every morning. The principal apparently thinks that this will strengthen school bonds as everyone will have the same colour uniform. As much as this seems like a personal comment, why did the founder of Dunman Secondary have to choose brown as its official colour?

But just think about it, beige shirt and brown Bermudas or long pants? I don't know about you, but it makes the guys look gross. The girls are fine, because they look good in almost anything they wear. But seriously, I don't really see the value in having to wear brown uniforms. Just because the girls wear it, we got to be in brown too?

To be honest, when I came to Dunman in secondary one, and saw brown blazers, I was disgusted by the fact that the uniform was going to be brown. And thank heavens; the guy's uniform is pure white. It is one of the few things I appreciate about being part of Dunman Secondary. The white reflects purity, something I have stood for ever since I have grown to appreciate white. And I believe it is what the other guys in Dunman stood for as well.

Well, that shows how much the Secondary ones are going to like the new uniform. Although uniform is not a criteria in choosing schools (or at least I doubt it is), it creates the environment in the school. And I can be pretty sure that the environment is going to change once the new uniforms get implemented. Except the change is not going to be as worth-while as what the principal has stated.

It may seem kind of personal for me to say this, but if I were to wear brown everyday, I really don't know how I'm going to face the public. The white uniform gives me an identity, not only because it makes me look good, but because I feel pure and tranquil when in white, and not as disgusted as I would in brown.

Not forgetting the ex-Dunmanites of the school, and the future ex-Dunmanites of the school like me. It is going to be difficult to relate back to a school full of brown-uniformed students when we used to wear white for 4 or 5 years. We love the colour of white, and I believe that during the whole period of people wearing white uniform, no one made the slightest complain about it. Except the people who did the laundry of course.

But that proves my point. Isn't the school supposed to listen to the voice of the students and implement changes that comply with the needs and wants of the school? Most of us abhor the brown uniform, so why are they changing it anyway? Yes, I agree there is a need for building a sense of unity in the school, but how much can wearing the same uniform bring us? There are other ways of bringing the school together. And implementing changes that collides with the interest of the students separates us instead.

By the way, I think that the brown uniform is going to be quite warm to wear. The school already has an extremely hot environment, especially classrooms which face direct sunlight or face intense convection heat waves (Like the class of 4B!). The guys got to wear long pants. And brown long pants everyday is suffocating for the legs. Why spend money to change uniforms and spend even more money trying to help cool down classrooms when we can just stick to white and be cool about it.So what are you waiting for? Sign the petition fast before the school decides to change the uniform once and for all.

http://www.petitiononline.com/whiteuni/petition.html

P.S. I guess I'll still be staying in campusmoblog for a while. But I will come back to blogspot, mainly because the blog engine in campusmoblog isn't very user friendly, and it is expanding my singtel bills. Stupid scammers...