Let It Rain. Let It Rain. Let It Rain.

Torture.

Torture.

Somebody who likes to make cynical observations will say that we will enjoy anticipating Maxwell Hill 2 more than the trip itself.

It was a shock to find out that the trip was less than two weeks away. Then, even the weeks went and we counted by days. Only four days left!

Four days, three days, tomorrow, we dropped the days and went for hours. 48 hours, 24 hours. Now we're less than five hours away.

If this were a book, the character would have sworn the clock was moving slower. The DOTA game! Bohnanza! I packed my bag this morning. So did quite a few others. Five days of endless playing and frolicking. Considering how slow time stretches on, it seems to boundless, endless.

Yet, the most realistic person in our EYAA group (His name starts with an E) remarks that it will all be over before we even know it. Sounds like a bad thing, but it just proves how much fun we expect to have, we know we will have.

Torture.

Torture.

The Cold that Traveled

I have a cold. I am breathing through one nostril because the other is blocked. Earlier, I was breathing through my mouth because both nostrils were blocked.

This is extremely sad because I battled with a sinus problem for the better part of this year. Sleeping on two pillows and having trouble hearing what everyone else was talking about, all in a day's work.

But, it cleared, eventually, and I was happy. I had my time under the sun. Only to be afflicted again.

I blame Ethan, I blame Bangkok.

Yes, it all started with Ethan in Bangkok. Goodness knows how he got the disease, but he passed it along. From Ethan to A. Sook Ching to Elliot. Eventually, reaching me.

From Bangkok to KL, Thailand to Malaysia, this flu has traveled. Five people down so far, spanning three families and two countries.

I know it's unsavory to wish ill on people, but I am already looking on with anticipation at how many more will fall.

It may not be bird flu, but it means just as much to me.

Two Eyes Looking Over My Shoulder

I have two eyes looking over my shoulder. They belong to Jian Lin.

It happens that these two eyes almost always manage to find themselves onto the stool behind me. Always when I am using the computer for something other than school. Two eyes that must shooed away and, even then, will come back.

Two eyes looking over my shoulder while I am chatting, blogging, and gaming. It appears the owner of these two eyes does not enjoy using the computer so much as watching me use the computer.

Two eyes and a mouth to report back on what I did, who I chatted with, and what I said. What did I play? How long? Shoo! Shoo! Away the two eyes go, back they come.

These two eyes, I suspect, hide a bored brain. Or maybe a brain that finds more pleasure in watching others than taking part herself. It must be pleasure. Certainly there can't be more meaning. Or maybe this person is just like that. Goodness, some people are.

"I smell feeesh! I smell feeesh."

Away go the two eyes to look over a different shoulder. To look over my mom's into a frying pan. Back come the two eyes.

And then the mouth gets restless and starts to sing.

"Two eyes looking over my shoulder. Two eyes looking over my shoulder."

The hands join in the fun and start to beat to tune on my shoulders.

There are two eyes looking over my shoulder, they certainly belong to Jian Lin.

Cruelty, Be Kind

Slap. Turns other cheek.

Slap. Turns other cheek.

Slap. Turns other cheek.

To slap someone three times when they have done hardly anything to offend you is hardly something I would consider clever, witty, brave, marvelous, or satisfying.

Especially when that other person is offering his cheeks.

Die! Die! Die!

Life is totally pointless in the long run. That was agreed. News today, gone tomorrow

What you do will be washed away by time. It may take thousands of years but time will eventually eat up everything.

This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.

In 200 years, there will be nothing left to mark our existence but a tombstone decaying, probably flowerless. Our names will disappear from memory. It doesn't matter what you do, you will eventually be forgotten and cast into the shadows where the dead roam.

Resign yourself to the fact that nothing you do matters. We are like gusts of wind. We blow, make ourselves felt, and are forgotten tomorrow.


Maybe, we might be dug up and put into a museum to be stared at for centuries. But, that's as far as you can hope.

Spellbound

Bourne Ultimatum is brilliant. So brilliant that I ended up clapping and laughing like everyone else.

Go watch it.

Seeing Both Sides

We are seeing two different sides of the same thing.

A profound statement that almost always manages to quell disagreements and smother anger. Whichever way you look at it, we're almost always arguing for different sides of the same thing.

Creation, such a juicy, dangerous topic. How were we created? Big Bang? Divine intervention? Round and round the bush we go. The logically gifted scoff at God. The spiritually enlightened scoff at science. Round and round the bush we go.

I am someone who believes in and has a decent knowledge of science. I am also someone who believes that God created the world, the stars, the universe.

What I find interesting is that I can argue, and I often do, for both sides. Arguing for the sake of arguing. That's the problem. My problem.

Phshaw!

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing."

We were to share a ridiculous, amazing, humorous experience in our life. So many times this question has been asked, and so many times I come up with one of the most ridiculous, amazing, humorous story. It isn't even always the same story. Almost every time I tell a new one.

I don't go out looking for these experiences. They happen to me. Almost all of us have, at one point in our lives, gone running in parks. Yet not many would have suddenly found themselves facing a baby cobra.

Helen Keller said the above quote, and I find it fits me, especially the part about daring adventure. To many people I have asked, the weirdest things that have happened to them involve bruises or throwing up.

Many more people say they don''t want these things to happen to them. They are happy to live normal, fulfilling lives. Others say that no such things happen to them. I actually welcome these experiences.

The bizarre, the amazing, even the ordinary turned extraordinary. I look at life as a big joke. Like a clown walking around in too-big-shoes, I see the world in a way few others do. I will do the mad. Hell, I have said hello and shook hands with people I don't know based on dares.

Based just on dares, there are so many things I have done.

I am willing to try anything. I don't shun opportunities because they are unusual. And that has made all the difference.

Crowd Control

We went for a camp in FRIM, all of the EYAA group would be there and I was looking forward to it. One night together with little to do, the prelude to Maxwell Hill 2. Truly, I didn't enjoy it too much.

I enjoyed myself, but only just. I found the camp tiring and exasperating, even as I had a grin plastered over my face. I hid my disappointment well, my mom thought I was having the time of my life. I assume that most others thought the same.

I didn't enjoy myself because, no matter where we went, we were followed by practically all the non adults. It was extremely tiring to have the horde following us everywhere. Because most of the prominent characters are in the EYAA group, and people tend to follow the prominent characters, we were followed everywhere.

It got so tiring that a few of us tried to sneak away to the tent, we hadn't even put on our slippers before everyone was putting on their shoes as well.

The night was the only time when we were truly by ourselves. Five of us slept in the main hall and all five of us said that we enjoyed that time at night the most. We played Pac Man with torchlights, scared ourselves silly with ghost impersonations, and talked about topics as random as DOTA and fainting.

I don't mind the company of the rest, it just got tiring to have them around all the time.

Crowds scare me.

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.