Humbler Pie

Shock! Gasp! I am left with nothing but shock and horror.

I checked my scores for history and found, to my horror, that I had achieved 76 and 86% for my first two assignments. It sounds snobbish, but I am used to hitting the A's. My average grades for Science and English are 100 and 99%.

Oh the shame, the shame.

Humble Pie

I am now officially a more humble person. I know the very act of saying I am humble denotes some pride but don't think about that. The main message is that I have become less proud and, hopefully, I am now a more humble person.

I have rethought my life and where it is heading. I have seen the imminent disaster awaiting me and I have changed. I was proud, very proud. I was proud in my abilities and capabilities and so I backslided.

Through the valley of darkness I roamed and I saw before the universe in all its glory. The days and nights blurred into one I realized my being in a way I had never comprehended before.

I saw all the glory of the world and I saw all of its evil as well. I knew I had a path to choose and I made my choice. On thee highest mountain of the deepest dungeon I defeated my foe and smote him, never to breathe again.

I am proud to announce I am now a more humble person.

Sleepyness Induced Recklessness

Only yesterday I deleted Gunbound from my computer. I did that because it wouldn't run anymore and the new patch was wreaking havoc on my computer. It was not an easy decision, but I think it was time to say goodbye.

Looking back, I guess you could say it was for the better. I am the most reckless, tightly strung Gunbound, make that any online game, player I know.

I was in Ken Ming's house, just imagine a computer, we were playing with my account. I was there for a sleepover and we played well into the night. We were getting tired. I find that, during this first bout of tiredness, I get especially reckless. We were playing a 2 on 2 match and my partner called me an imbecile in the middle of the match.

I turned around and killed him.

The following match I changed teams and my only goal was to kill him, which I did. My very smart and rude bot started to swear at him, clever bot. After a few rounds, he left and we went to sleep.

Many more similar instances followed this.

The End

Make Me Cry, Please

When it comes to sorrow, I would consider myself to be an emotionally aware, yet emotionally unattached, person. I say this because I know I am sad, I am sad, but I rarely cry.

At the end of the movie Sophie Scholl - The Final Days, screened in Uncle David's home, the room was filled with sobbing people. Almost all the adults cried, a few others my age flooded as well. I didn't.

I was sad. I was impressed by her courage to fight against Hitler despite the danger, I was awed by her commitment to the idea of freedom, but I just couldn't cry.

When my grandfather died, everyone was wailing their heads off but, probably because I never knew him, I didn't even shed a tear.

Sniff...this is so tragic.

Roshan Turns Up

I was filled with passion, hope and will to do something. I will change myself, I will learn Bahasa Malaysia, I will learn and write about Islam! I will be a friend to the Malays and help them to see the truth as I believe.

I would change Malaysia. I would change the world.

All that got left behind in Grace Hill Lodge, Bukit Tinggi. What am I but a mere shrimp? What can I possibly do anyway? I'm busy, my schoolwork has piled up, I have lots of things to do.

When I was In Bukit Tinggi, in Young Writers Camp, the world did not touch, all its troubles, all its pain, and so began to hope. Back down home, I was flooded. I had no answer. I gave up.

Then I received Roshan's email. All the promises, the hope for change, came back and I find myself with newfound will to have another shot. I will try again. Why?

As Ethan wrote, "Because I can."

I Laughed, Most Cried

In the past week, I attended two funerals of people I did not know at all, Amy Ratos' mom and my great aunt. They were both eerily similar, both were for old great grandmothers, both of whom had changed lives for the better, both died of cancer, and both were Christians. But for all their similarities, their funerals were very different.

For Amy Ratos' mom's funeral, we went to a swanky building chunked with marble and yellow lights to goldify the the yellow walls. Smartly dressed, sombre looking, ushers guided us. In the air conditioned parlor, we sat on leather seats that reminded me of Golden Screen Cinemas' gold class seats.

My great aunts funeral, in Taiping, was much simpler.It was in front of her house, and there were no ushers to guide us and look somber. Seats were made of plastic and we were cooled only by a couple of fans.

In truth, I felt no sadness throughout the funerals. I was imperious to it all, I felt no tugging at m heartstrings. I laughed with my cousins and my sister. I ate peanuts and drank "funeral" water. I laughed at the comical pastor who managed to drag one line, in heaven there is no pain or sickness, into a twenty minute sermon.

But as I saw my great aunt's coffin being lowered, I realized that all I do will come to nothing. We may be sent off in a fancy parlor, but what does it matter to the dead person? Does anything matter to a dead person at all?

Of course not. The only thing that matters is how you are remembered. Realizing that has made all the difference.