There and Back Again

Today I went to my youngest brother and sister's school for their end of the school year majlis penyampaian hadiah. Yusof, who is in Primary 5, got number one in his class while Betty Jane, who is Primary 1, was doing the chicken dance. I, who am freeloading, was ordered to go and be camera-person.

And so I found myself hovering uncertainly near the plastic chairs labeled 'ibu bapa', until I finally settled on sitting at the relatively lonely back-of-the-hall. Not long after I sat down, Betty Jane came running up to me, wailing that she didn't have any make up on. Following close behind her were a handful of girls decked in pink and what looked to me like kabuki face paint. One girl kept looking around with her eyes widened consciously, no doubt flaunting her sparkly purple eyeshadow. Understanding her anxiety at being bare faced, I dug around in my bag and produced eyeliner, pale pink blusher and nude lipstick, which made Betty Jane happy enough.

I played arm and thumb wrestling with the pink kabuki chickens while men with potbellies bulging under their batik shirts gave speeches. The girls gave me hugs and giggled in my ears, thoroughly easy with this kakak that they have known for only 5 minutes. Every five minutes or so one of them would come up to me and ask anxiously if their makeup was still intact.

Then came the part where they gave out the awards. I watched as the excellent students marched onto the stage one by one to accept their prizes. The very excellent ones, the ones who had to run back to the other end of the stage again to receive multiple awards, had a familiar expression on their faces. Happy, proud, a feeling so great as if the whole world revolved around that award. My thoughts wandered back to my own school days. I used to be one of those multiple achievers, too. I used to imagine all eyes on me when I went on stage to shake the headmaster's hand and receive my trophy.

Those awards don't mean a thing at all, I thought to myself as I pulled my thoughts back to the present. What good are plastic trophies in the real world?

I turned my head to my right and saw a boy in a songkok proudly presenting his certificate to his father. His father smiled. Wiping a tear from his eye he hugged his boy and patted him on the back.

I reviewed those cynical thoughts I conceived moments ago. So that's what it's for.

Life so far and after that

I've spent four years studying to be a Civil Engineer. I have graduated, got my degree, and applied for jobs related to that degree. I have looked forward to using what I have spent four years to acquire. I have looked forward to playing a part in 'building Malaysia'.

Yet when things have reached their critical point, the so-called moment of no return, I find myself hesitating. Suddenly, being a Civil Engineer does not seem so fulfilling. It has lost its appeal even before I have begun to experience it. I am plagued with visions of a different sort, of dreams I have long discarded. Why, after four years of walking this road, do my regrets catch up to me now?

Regrets -- are they? I can still go down that road -- that which I have thought not to take. I can still change my direction. It is a winding road and one abound with obstacles. But the road is mine to traverse. The path is mine to clear.

Do I have the guts to take it?

Gamer's Reality

One important thing gamers learn is that before you enter the boss fight, stock up and save your game. In the event of your defeat, load from last save point and use what knowledge you gained fighting it to win. In the case where you are incapable of beating the boss, one option is to go online and get some tips from a walkthrough. And that is how a gamer can always beat the game.

Too bad you can't say the same for Life.

There are no save points in Life. You can't go back and redo a choice that you've made. You can't use hindsight for the future. There are no walkthroughs. And even the best laid plans and strategies will crumble at Life's unpredictability. There's just no way to beat Life.

I can see why millions of people prefer to 'live' in World of Warcraft.

Nena-nee Yang Sot

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Jiyuu!

1. Finding Jiyuu on Christmas morning is believed to bring good luck!
2. It's bad luck for a flag to touch Jiyuu.
3. Birds do not sleep in Jiyuu, though they may rest in her from time to time.
4. Julius Caesar wore a laurel wreath to cover up Jiyuu.
5. Only 55 percent of Americans know that the sun is made of Jiyuu!
6. Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating are Jiyuu.
7. Bananas don't grow on trees - they grow on Jiyuu.
8. Jiyuu is born white; her pink feathers are caused by pigments in her typical diet of shrimp.
9. The deepest part of Jiyuu is over 35,000 feet deep!
10. It is bad luck to walk under Jiyuu.

I am interested in - do tell me aboutherhimitthem

I simply cannot fathom what Nena-nee does on the internet which led her to find this site. But its pretty cool! My favorite is number 9. Hehehe...

To Criticize a Critic

We've all heard it -- that criticism is hard to swallow. But in order to grow, we must grin and bear it. I would like to think that I am the type of person who can receive criticism with an open mind. But in some occasions, sticks and stones don't hurt nearly as much as the potential threat of an ill-worded sentence.

Yes, I would like to place an emphasis on the term 'ill-worded sentence'. Sometimes, it is not the criticism itself which is loath to be accepted, but the manner in which it is presented. In this, I mean proper use of grammar.

Let's face it, I live in Malaysia. I don't expect flawless, impeccable grammar at every corner. To be frank, I don't presume my own English to be Jayathiroyish at any rate. But for a lecturer whose medium of instruction is supposedly English, I would expect at least a minimal command of the language -- at least good enough to be heard without one's face screwing up in incredulity. So when the draft of my thesis with corrections from my second panel was returned to me, imagine my frustration upon reading comments such as

"Correction need to be corrected as mark inside"

and

"Please see me coz your report its not full report. Less discussion".

And when a sentence in future tense which I had overlooked was circled in red and accompanied by the remark "This research already or not.", I simply could not bring myself to accept my mistake being pointed out by someone who displays such blatant ineptitude in using proper English.

Alright, about a third of the corrections made are actually justifiable. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. *Crosses arms and blows a raspberry*

Wake Up and Smell the Tea

The morning is cold and my fingernails are starting to take a bluish hue; I take it as a cue for a short break from a night-long composing of my final year project report. I am well aware that the dizzy semi-conscious state I am now in is entirely my own fault for procrastinating. The knowledge doesn't bother me much yet as I have picked up a steady pace of progress throughout the night. I'm confident I can make the deadline. That said, I turn the fan off and put the kettle on for some tea. Morning tea seems a bit off but my caffeine buds tell me that they aren't quite in the mood for coffee at the moment. Tea it is, then.

The morning is quiet and still; a welcome break from the busy and irritating noises of people, traffic, and female students. I sit at the balcony of my fourth-floor apartment and stare out at the inanimate world below and ahead of me. I curl my fingers around the hot mug of tea, letting the steam warm my face. My usual musings come to me, beckoned by the aroma of tea and the stillness of the morning. Life, death, the future, the past, the present….I take a sip of my tea. The hot liquid burns my tongue and invigorates me. The soothing sweetness stills my churning thoughts.

I don’t know what life is and I'm not sure if I ever will, but for now I am contented to think of simple thoughts such as the beauty of sunrise and the relaxing effect of tea.

Signs

Littering has always been a problem wherever I go in Malaysia. However, this problem has reached an all time low, in my opinion, when I noticed A4-sized signs posted by each ATM machine on campus.

"Please ensure that your litter is properly disposed in the rubbish bins provided," pleaded the signs.

I nudged my housemate and pointed them out. Shame, I said, that university students still have to be told where rubbish goes.

"Nak wat camner...," she answered, indifferent, and went back to interacting with her mobile phone.

My jaw dropped. True, we can't go around making people throw their rubbish in the rubbish bins -- that's what authorities take our tax money for. But to not care?? To me, that's equivalent to littering yourself.

I looked at the floor by the ATM machine I was standing in line at. Sure enough, there were transaction slips on the floor, right beside an empty waste basket. I wish I had a camera, I would have taken pictures as proof.

We've been taught that rubbish goes into rubbish bins since, what -- kindergarten? Is that still insufficient time to learn the theory?