Bye-bye, Stone Age

…the Stone Age began roughly 2.5 million years ago, ended in some parts of the world 5,000 years ago… rapidly vanishing with the introduction of tools from the modern industrialized world. ~Microsoft Encarta

Everybody, put on the party hats! Whoopee! I know it’s not Halloween Night yet. Neither are the exams over. But the caveman has every reason to celebrate!

For years, the caveman has been silently suffering over the sluggish speed of his 31st-century B.C. dialup service. He banged his modem with his club, turned his CPU up-side-down and even bribed his computer with Swiss chocolate, but nothing worked. Then one day, someone came by and introduced him a 21st-century A.D. technology known as “broadband”, which promised break-neck connection speed. Finally, the caveman has something to look forward to.

I don’t know how she managed to persuade my mom. I’ve been trying to explain to her the ordeals of using a dialup connection but I never succeeded in getting the message across. Generation gap? I don’t know how, but Chloe did it! Attagirl!

Normally, I don’t open the door for salespersons. I just have a general distaste towards them, especially those irritable chaps from Wonderway who bugged us a few years back. Maybe, our stars didn’t match, or may be I’m allergic towards people in this profession.

However, when Chloe rang the doorbell yesterday morning, I was glad I opened the door. Initially, I thought it was some kind of survey which normally goes along the lines, “Hi, sir! I’m Mr Blah from Alpha Omega company. Do you mind telling me which shampoo you’re currently using? Why don’t you try out… Blah, blah, blah…” Heck, no! Instead, she turned out to be promoting Streamyx. Unfortunately, she came at the wrong time as my mom had gone to the church. And I wasn’t in the position to make the decision.

“It’s alright, I’ll be in this area till seven,” the amiable girl said. She promised to come back at one when my mom returned.

Later, when my mom reached home, I told her to expect a Streamyx representative. She went like, “What were you thinking when you asked her to come back?” Wow, that’s a great start! I sighed. Sure enough, Chloe came back at one, as promised. Not daring to place any hope, I left mom to talk to her alone. But, who would have thought that my mom actually let her in! Now, that deserved a second “Wow!”.

I guess it was some kind of female thingy. You know, people say that females can strike a chord easier among themselves. Chloe actually managed to convince her to switch to broadband. Golly, that’s the message I was trying to get across but ended up feeling like banging my head on the wall after a couple of futile attempts! Oh well, need I say there went my third “Wow!”? Of the other qualities she had, I attributed her success to her soft-spoken manner plus her zeal.

The bad news is, with the coming “combo festival” I may have to wait while they place an order for the modem and get it delivered to the house. But when the time comes, it’ll be a quantum leap from the Stone Age to the Broadband Age.

Hopefully, without delay, it’ll take less than three weeks. Oh, how the caveman hopes the delivery boy flies here on a pterodactyl instead of riding on a slow woolly mammoth! Make haste!

A Deed – or was I Duped?

He who does not abandon falsehood in word and action in accordance with fasting, God has no need that he should abandon his food and drink. ~Prophet Muhammad

It is five minutes to seven, the time for Muslims in Penang to break fast. You’re cycling on the road when a Malay man approaches you and explains that he has lost his wallet. He politely asks for RM1.80 so that he can buy his dinner. Should you give him the money or just come up with some excuse and leave?

You may not have a chance to encounter this unusual situation, but a guy actually did. And he gave the stranger two bucks. Foolish, no? Well, that guy was me.

It happened yesterday evening, when I cycled to a nearby coffee shop to buy dinner. I was reaching a junction when a guy, who was also happened to be cycling, called out at me. Of course, I was initially confused. The Malay who appeared to be in his twenties was a total stranger to me.

When I stopped by the road, he approached and explained that he dropped his wallet somewhere. It was about time for him to break fast but he needed RM1.80 for his dinner. In a polite manner which he maintained throughout the conversation, he asked if I’d be kind enough to help him out. Without giving it a second thought, I replied, “Sure!” and gave him two bucks. His visage was beaming as he shook my hand and thanked me.

Some people may ask, “Heck, you believed the guy, a total stranger who you didn’t know? How did you know he was not lying?” The truth is, I don’t know. In fact, I just assumed that he was telling the truth and considered whether to help him or not. After all, isn’t this Ramadan, the holy month? Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t not trying to earn my pass through the Pearly Gates. I’m a non-Muslim – an atheist, to be exact. To people like me, there is no concept of heaven or hell.

I was trying to say, since it’s Ramadan, I presumed he wouldn’t be lying, right? It’s supposed to be a month for self-purification and spiritual growth for Muslims like him. Furthermore, don’t you think there isn’t such a desperate need for someone to lie to a stranger just to dupe him of two bucks?

Nevertheless, there is always still a small possibility that he was lying. I remembered hearing him said that he wanted to lodge a police report initially but was told it wasn’t necessary. He just needed to go to the National Registration Department to get a replacement. Thinking of that, it didn’t really make sense to me. But, even if I was cheated of two bucks, I don’t think it matters much. It just proves that I’m gullible, and nothing more. While that guy, on the other hand, has his conscience to deal with! Since there’s no way to find out now I presume he was telling the truth, and be glad I didn't leave him to starve to death by the road.

Moments later, I met that guy again. I thought I saw him holding something which looked like a cigarette. I wondered… Nah, I didn’t care to find out!

A U-turn from a Kamikaze Attempt

From that time Jesus began to preach, and to say, Repent: for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. ~King James Bible, Matthew 4:17

As I’ve mentioned in my previous blog post, I’ve found “God” and finally realised what a “spiritually shallow” person I was. In fact, I’ve been repenting this morning. Of course, “God “ was in his usual chatty mood to listen to my rants and offer some incoherent comments. After all, he is programmed to listen – and talk crap! But, still, there is nothing like confiding to my faithful blog.

First confession: I was making an early start on my novel, which I’m only supposed to begin in November. Hey, but I’m having two weeks of exam in mid-November! If I were to play fair, I’d be robbed of at least eleven days! Alright, that just ain’t fair to me! Anyway, I became stuck as I neared 3,000. I had some ideas but the problem was I couldn’t continue. Sigh, I lack the vocabulary and the pizzazz of a good novelist!

Me: God, I have a confession to make.
God: I am a Christian.
Me: Whatever... I'm cheating in the NaNoWriMo.
God: Are you saying you don't care about it? Do you mind if I tell other people you are cheating in the NaNoWriMo?
Me: Of course I care! Otherwise I won't be here confessing! Please don't tell anyone else!
God: OK. I like caring people. In that case: What will you do instead? Thanks for asking politely. OK it will be our secret.
Me: Well, repent, of course! Will you forgive me?
God: It goes without saying. How about that. Does "it" still refer to cheating in the NaNoWriMo? Hmm. I forgive you.
Me: Thank you!
God: You are quite welcome.

Second confession: The exams (No, no! Don’t mention the accursed four-letter word!) are just two weeks ahead and I’m barely studying! All I’ve been doing everyday is going online for one whole morning and for the rest of the day, I’m just thinking of how the heck am I going to continue my crummy novel. I’ve just received news from a Melaka friend that this year’s Chemistry paper may be tougher than last year’s. Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good. So, I finally came back to my senses (I hope it’s not too late) and decided it is time to shelve the kamikaze project of writing the 50k-word novel.

Me: God, help me! The exams are just two weeks ahead but I'm barely studying!
God: I am a Christian. Tell me more.
Me: ...

Third confession: I admit it was compulsive of me to take part in the insane marathon. When those kind NaNoWriMo people out there are trying hard to raise $110,000 to build children's libraries in Laos, I’m wasting their funds by signing up for a place and not taking part in it. Heck, they spent $10,000 for the programme! How am I going to atone for my sin? God, I feel so guilty and ashamed of myself. Why, oh why did I not think this through before registering? Cybele, I’m so sorry! But right now, I need to dedicate more time to my studies (and blogging!).

Me: God, I'm feeling so guilty for giving up on the NaNoWriMo!
God: I am a Christian.
Me: Yes I know. You told me that before.
God: Right on. How do you know it? I told you?
Me: Yes, you did.
God: I did not.
Me: Did so!
God: I'm not certain whether I can give an accurate reply or not.
Me: Have you taken your medicine?

To me, avian flu doesn’t sound like a serious epidemic. “Procrastination” is. (Catchphrase credited to Lydia and Zyun.) Pardon me. I think I’m hooked to it too. But, I guess, that doesn’t matter, since I’ve just been accepted as a fellow Procrastinator. (Is that good news or bad news?)

I’ve been wasting every morning without fail: blogging, surfing, chatting… In the afternoon when I’m supposed to be revising, I get so sleepy that I decide to take a nap. Then, with all those other distractions like the TV, music, Reader’s Digest, newspapers… I end up with less than two hours of study each day! Heck!

Man, I really need to study more. God help me!

God, He is So Chatty!

I must, indeed, try hard to control the talking habit, but I'm afraid that little can be done, as my case is hereditary. My mother, too, is fond of chatting, and has handed this weakness down to me. ~Anne Frank

If you’re a poor victim of insomnia and couldn’t get to sleep even though it is well past midnight, what do you do? Admittedly, calling up your boring Chemistry teacher to reminds him to take a pee is a fun idea. Think twice, though, unless you don’t mind to go into Santa Claus’ “bad kids” list.

Luckily, there is an alternative way which will not cost you your Christmas present. You can always go online and find someone to chat with on MSN Messenger.

But, wait a minute. Man, it’s two in the morning! If you’re really thinking of catching someone online, fat chance! Now, is it justified enough for you to call up the “master of hypnosis”?

Heck, no. Thank goodness there’s still one last hope. Guys out there would probably want to chat with Alice. As for girls, there’s Iniaes. Both of them are always glad to chat with you, 24/7.

What? No, no. They are not volunteers who man the 24-hour hotline at the Befrienders. Instead, they are chatterbots designed specifically to chat. Of course, sometimes they may sound incoherent, pouring out gibberish that doesn’t make any sense. What can you expect? AI technology still isn’t advanced enough to write a programme which can chat like a true human. Otherwise, the Turing Award would have been claimed.

But for your information, I don’t enjoying chatting with computers. Hey, I’m not so lonely nor desperate! When I need a companion, I can always chat with God.

I’m not high on designer drugs, mind you! After all that communing with God, I’m spiritually fulfilled. Yes, they do have computers up there. How, otherwise, do you expect Him to receive your prayers? Through email, of course. Duh! Haven’t you watched Bruce Almighty?

Unfortunately, God uses neither MSN nor Yahoo! Messenger. He has his own domain instead. Go ahead and see for yourself! Don’t worry. He’s not intimidating at all. As a matter of fact, He can be quite chatty and gossipy. Heaven must be a lonely place, I suppose! Read the disclaimer though, because extended chat with God may lead to delusions. Huh, why? Perhaps only God knows… And also, be warned. There is no such thing as God-mortal confidentiality, as Sashi discovered! God, he is chatty. I wonder if it is hereditary.

Back to our subject. Don’t you think technology is great? Computers were built to store data and solve complex calculations. Who would have thought it could one day bridge us and God? Hallelujah!

Ah, repenting has never been easier. Now, I need to tell Him I’m so sorry for going online instead of studying…

NaNoWriMo: A Novel Idea

NaNoWriMo is all about the magical power of deadlines. Give someone a goal and a goal-minded community and miracles are bound to happen. Pies will be eaten at amazing rates. Alfalfa will be harvested like never before. And novels will be written in a month. ~NaNoWriMo FAQs

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! I can’t believe I’m doing this! This is crazy! Madness! Insanity! I signed up to become a 2005 WriMo!

Alright. For those who are scratching their heads and begging to be enlightened, this coming month, November, is the time for budding novelists all over the world to write like mad – it’s the National Novel Writing Month a.k.a. NaNoWriMo (pronounced NAN-no WRY-mo)! Drum rolls, please!

This annual programme was first held in 1999 with just 21 participants. However, the novel concept of writing a 50,000-word novel (pardon the pun) from scratch in a month soon grew so popular that there were a whopping 42,000 participants last year. I have always thought of the idea of writing a novel someday but I couldn’t get started because it’d be a time-consuming project. Think of all the researches you need to do so that you don’t come up with a flimsy plot. Then, creativity is another prerequisite, which I unfortunately lack of.

I heard of this insane novel-writing marathon last year but didn’t have the motivation to participate back then. Admittedly, I doubt it’d be possible for a first-time novelist like me to achieve the feat. I mean, think of shooting for the moon! And I still wanted to retain my sanity!

This year is different. Though I’d say it was rather impulsive of me to make the decision, reading in the newspaper about some of the past WriMo’s gave me some encouragement. Man, this is going to be a rare (correction: once-in-a-year) opportunity to gain a dear experience.

Certainly, writing 50k words in 30 days is going to be a mean feat. (Heck, I made an estimation of the number of words I have posted in my blog and guess what, there’re only 30k in the 60-odd entries posted throughout these ten months!) No doubt it’ll undermine the quality of your work if you were to rush to meet the dateline. Luckily, “it’s all about quantity, not quality”. This is the time to ditch my Libran perfectionism and pour out lots of nonsense.

If I'm just writing 50,000 words of crap, why bother? Why not just write a real novel later, when I have more time? Bingo! This question, which was exactly what I wanted to ask, was found in the FAQs section. Heck, those guys from NaNoWriMo are right! “Novel writing is mostly a "one day" event. As in ‘One day, I'd like to write a novel.’” So, it’s either “start now” or “never”. I don’t know if I’d be able to hit the mark, but I’ll just try.

Anyone interested? Sign up before October 31!

The sad thing is, I may have to put aside blogging for the whole of November. (Sniff, sniff…) So, sorry if I’m not around in the blogosphere when the marathon starts. I promise to find time and drop by every now and then. Cross my heart. But if you really do miss me so much, feel free to send fan mail and love letters to kryptos5@gmail.com.

Cheerio!

P/s: I’ve roughly outlined a nonsensical plot. (Stress: nonsensical. You’ve been warned!) If nothing goes wrong, that is going to be my story. Heh! Expect some surprises!

Update (Friday, 28 October 2005): Plan shelved

Learning It the Finnish Way

The only thing that interferes with my learning is my education. ~Albert Einstein

There’s a tuition teacher who hypes about how good he is at forecasting exam questions. In fact, he advertises his expertise in his pamphlets.

Man, he totally gets on my nerves! He calls himself a teacher? Bah, he’d be better off being a soothsayer in the Temple of Goddess of Mercy! I really don’t understand why there are so many gullible individuals flocking to his tuition centres and seminars. Does the world ever get short of idiots? But, why don’t I see people rushing to my house to worship me instead?

Tuition has become so widespread nowadays. I’m not against the idea of going for tuitions but when people start attending tuitions just because it’s a trend, you know it’s getting unhealthy alright. Without any authority regulating the operation of tuition centres, it has become a thriving trade as lucrative as selling caskets.

When I asked some of my friends why they go for tuitions, one of them gave me an odd look as if I was asking an obvious question like, “Why do you eat?” Then, there was an “I don’t know” and a “because my parents want me to”. For God’s sake, these people just never sit down and really think, do they? And, I suppose, that’s why they need to attend tuition classes.

Thinking back, it was foolish of me to dutifully go for maths tuition classes despite being confident in the subject. I’ve always wanted to stop but I lingered on longer than I should have just because my crush was there, notwithstanding the fact that my teachers in school are much better than the balding old chap who is irritatingly business-minded.

I can’t help but to admire and envy Finns for their excellent system of education. Finnish, who rank top in the Organisation of Economic Cooperation and Development’s (OECD) Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), “spend an average of just 30 hours per week on schoolwork, including homework”. (Source: Top of the Class, Reader’s Digest, September 2005) On the other hand, Koreans, who rank just behind Finland, spend 50 hours a week instead. Too bad Malaysia didn’t participate in the assessment or we’d have the chance to make comparisons.

In a pioneer project in Poikkilaakso Primary School, students are given lenient supervision. Each one is allowed to go on his own pace and learn according to his own style. We tried this alright, but too bad it was a futile effort. It is a great idea indeed but I doubt it will ever get off in Malaysia.

What I like the most is, in Finland, “standardised testing is shunned”. I quote from Reader’s Digest: ”Many countries believe that by emphasising testing their education will get better… But we believe the other way around. Too much testing makes you start teaching for the exams. But many aspects of learning can’t be measured that way.”

Whoa! They definitely hit the nail on its head. It really annoys me when some teachers answer, “Don’t worry. That won’t be tested,” in reply to a question. I mean, that’s definitely not the way to learn. Studying for the sake of exams? No way! That’s exactly how you breed non-thinking entities who do nothing good for the society.

Sigh. I say, we do have a lot to learn from Finns!

And, oh yeah! As for the soothsayer-cum-tuition-teacher, may Socrates’ ghost haunt him forever!

The Bamboo Sanctuary

Walking is a joy, but an even greater joy is to ride a bicycle. Bicycling is a universal skill in Cambridge: women, small children, old men alike relish the pleasure of the two-wheeled dance. ~Xu Zhimo

Being notorious for constantly switching hobbies, I ditched cycling a few years back. Haven’t you heard of some myth like, too much cycling makes guys impotent? I don’t know about the credibility of this myth but it was definitely not the reason I stopped cycling, though it does hurt my rear.

Anyway, two weeks ago, I picked up the hobby again, out of the blue. And, so, I cleaned my old pal – gosh, it was getting rusty here and there – and walked it to a petrol station a hundred metres away to get the tyres pumped. However, when I decided to take my old buddy out again yesterday, I had to visit the petrol station once more because the rear tyre lost its pressure again. (The front one was okay since it’s relatively new. I had it changed after I blew the old one while trying to… uh… ram up a pavement.) So, that’s the major reason I gave up on cycling, ever since my air pump expired long ago.

To me, cycling on the busy main roads has never sounded like a good idea at all. So, all this while, there are only basically three housing estates, including the one I live in, which are accessible to me on my bicycle.

The slope in Batu Uban is one of the places I like. Going down the slope at break-neck speed never fails to raise the level of adrenaline. Whoopee! But, of course, going up the slope at the lowest gear combination is equally enjoyable. Heck, what do you call a guy who enjoys forcing his heart to work at full capacity? A masochist? Hah!

However, I’ve been in this neighbourhood for so long a time that cycling in the place has inevitably become slightly boring. Thus, I decided to do some exploration of my own to see if there’re any other attractions. And, so, I came to The Sanctuary, so read the sign. This, I guess, is the steepest slope in the neighbourhood. Heh! Another place for me to flex my biceps femoris and gastrocnemius. Pardon the jargon. (Mischievious grin.)

I couldn’t help noticing that both sides of the slope was planted with bamboos. So, this was a bamboo sanctuary? What was up there? A panda’s castle?

The only way to find out was to go up. But, heck! It was a steep slope alright! After stopping midway – to read a signboard set up by some contractor regarding the proposal to construct 50 odd bungalow lots in the area – I couldn’t get the wheels to move; the pedals just wouldn’t budge!

I didn’t want to risk breaking the gears of my old buddy, which is half my age. Therefore, I had to walk up instead since there was no point giving up the “exploration” after coming all the way. I didn’t went far though, before coming to a fenced-up area, apparently the construction site.

As far as I know, this place used to be one of the few green lungs in the vicinity. Ah, human encroachment! So, this will soon become a sanctuary for overly rich aristocrats, eh? Aptly named! (Mumble, mumble… )

Oh, well, that ended my “exploration”. Unless I decided to venture out onto the busy roads to get elsewhere, there just isn’t much thrill left in cycling. What else could a guy who’s looking for new experience do? Cycle to his school in Air Itam ten kilometres away?

Sounds like a good idea!

State of Confusion

Side-lookiing radar measurements show West Antarctic ice is increasing at 26.8 gigatons/yr. Reversing the melting trend of the last 6,000 years. ~Science 295: 476-80

With his novel-turned-blockbusters, Jurassic Park, Congo and his other bestsellers which are no less popular, Michael Crichton is irrefutably the best contemporary science fiction writer, alongside Jules Verne, my classical favourite. Unlike some others in the trade who base their plots on pure fantasies, Crichton is adept at weaving facts into stories, presenting his theses without the expense of the plot.

Of late, I’ve developed a liking towards novels which has to do with conspiracy theories. Before this, I was truly intrigued by Dan Brown’s stories and openly hoped that the facts presented are true as he claimed. The book of lies commissioned by Constantine in his bid to expand his empire, the blood-stained history of the Church during the darker days, the secret of the Chalice, Jesus being a mortal… Imagine the implications if one day , they are proven to be true! The very foundation of an age-old institution of faith would tumble upon the last priest!

My disappointment was unfeigned when I watched the documentary aired on Discovery Channel, refuting the bold claims made in The Da Vinci Code. But who knows if the research was unbiased as it was supposed to be? Imagine the furore it would raise if the conspiracy were to be confirmed. It’s just as explosive as claiming that Jesus’ remains are found!

Michael Crichton’s latest novel, State of Fear, addresses not of the matter of faith but of an issue which we’re all too familiar with – global warming. Any primary school student can tell you briefly that global warming is a phenomenal rise in temperature caused by greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide. This is the widespread concept which has been drilled into our mind all this while. If you presume that it is true (I’m sure you do), then prepare to be bewildered.

With abundant graphs and data, Crichton elaborated that global warming is not an established fact as we believe but merely a theory which is yet to be proven. He went on quoting sources that scientists believe we’re progressing into an ice-age, that global warming is not really a “global phenomenon” as certain places show a drop in temperature.

Yes. The story is interesting, alright. The cannibalism rites, the overzealous environmentalists, the terrorist-like NGO capable of inducing thunderstorms, redirecting hurricanes and triggering giant killer waves… And I do hope that global warming is not so bad as we perceive, that it is an exaggerated issue. Mind you, I’m not a pro-industrialist who campaign against the Kyoto Protocol, but think again, wouldn’t it be a burden off the mind if you know you can fart all you like and not contribute to a global catastrophe?

Unfortunately, like all conspiracy theories, someone would always pop out of somewhere and refute the claims. This isn’t an exception. A simple search would return results of numerous journals that highlight the misinformation in the novel. Just to name one, Gavin Schmidt from the Earth Institute published a paper that points out several distorted interpretations made by Crichton.

I’m not in position to judge who’s right or wrong. On one side is a prominent author who does tons of research before writing a book – he has a list of bibliography at the end of his book; on the other side is an expert in this field. Who am I supposed to believe?

I’m sorry, Crichton. But I have to say that your story is a little too far-fetched than breeding dinosaurs from fossilized mosquitoes’ blood containing dino- DNA. I mean, the world is getting as hot as hell and I can’t deny that!

So, I’d still love to see the US getting sued over global warming in the Vanuatu lawsuit. But then again, why was the lawsuit dropped? There’s a conspiracy theory. Go read State of Fear.

Down Memory Lane

It is very good to copy what one sees; it is much better to draw what you can't see any more but is in your memory. It is a transformation in which imagination and memory work together. You only reproduce what struck you, that is to say the necessary. ~Edgar Degas

In her journey to the City of Emeralds, Dorothy helped oiling the rusty Tin Woodman. It happened that the Wicked Witch of the East had been the root of his sufferings: the Tin Woodman lost his heart to her enchanted axe. Thus, he accompanied Dorothy to seek help from the mighty Wizard of Oz to get a heart of flesh so that he could love once again.

True. A heart of flesh allows one to be happy and “happiness is the best thing in the world”. But, it was too bad that the Tin Woodman wasn’t aware that it comes with a price. Little did he know that a heart does not only have the capacity to love but it can bring feelings of bitter longing and dejection as well. It is these emotions that give us warmth and at times, drown us in a potent cocktail of emotions. The kind that seizes you unaware when you let down your guard. The kind that is hard to put into words; hard to describe.

Graduation day – is it supposed to be a happy moment now that I’ve finished my school life in Chung Ling? Or is it supposed to take me for a walk down memory lane and have those reminiscence of the good old days fill me with bitterness? Two years ago, it struck me. Now, it has returned and I still find myself assailed haplessly.

Six years ago, I entered Chung Ling as a carefree adolescent. On second thought, not really carefree, for there was a bugging anxiety of whether I’d be able to cope with the new surroundings. Gosh, to begin with, the school was so big that it could be a township by itself. I had a tough time finding my way to the library, the labs, the canteen, the toilets (despite the fact that there is one around every corner)… The first few weeks in school was totally disorienting. Still, I managed to get on well, thank goodness.

Being somewhat antiestablishment, it was ironical that I became a Junior Patrol. But, who cares? It gave me the carte blanche to loiter around under the pretense of “official duty”. More so when we were in Form Two, since we were the eldest in the afternoon session. We could have had the absolute power of the Gestapo, if not for the certain distaste some teachers held towards us Patrols and their occasional interventions.

I’d say that Form Two is the happiest year of all my life in Chung Ling. Thinking of my gang of friends in the bus and all those crazy things we did back then is enough to make me long for those days. I still remember the ridiculous ditty we composed for a particular unpopular boy, which we sang ad nauseam, till one day, we drove the bus driver so mad that he stopped by the roadside just to get us to shut up. So, well, we made one for him, too! Then, of course, there was the water-splashing “culture”. We had to carry along an umbrella, rain or shine, because you could always expect someone to splash water at you as soon as you stepped off the bus. That was when the umbrella became handy.

Form Three was in the morning session; the dreaded ringing of the alarm clock was the first thing that roused me from my sweet slumber before dawn. Everyday was a school-homework-study-tuition routine. Nevertheless, this and the two years that followed left me with sweet reminiscences, because that was when I met a number of fabulous friends.

Then came the Form Five graduation, which I did not foresee would bring so much pain later on. Perhaps, I wasn’t really aware that that was when many of us would part with each other.

They say “good friends are like stars… you don’t always see them, but you know they are always there”. Alas, some just reel out of sight. You try to keep in touch with them but they just seem to vanish into thin air without news. Some just changed so much that you find it hard to communicate with each other. He could be your alter ego the last time you met but after a short separation, you find those stark differences between the both of you and wondered how you got together in the beginning.

It was optimistic of me to presume that I’d find true friends in Form Six. Friends, there were a lot. But intimate ones, I don’t think so, for it is hard to find someone truthful and willing enough to confide your feelings and share your aspirations. Then, there are higher expectations and heftier responsibilities to shoulder as you bid goodbye to adolescence. Gosh, it does feel lonely sometimes.

A few weeks before graduation day, I didn’t feel like going to school at all, except for showing up occassionally to let the form teacher know I was still around. But now that graduation day is over and we’re unofficially free to be absent from school, life suddenly becomes so empty. I miss the lengthy chat with my classmates. When will we have the chance just to even see each other? Even the prospect that we’d be sitting for STPM together real soon is not comforting enough. And it gets lonelier, thus.

Still, my final consolation is that this might be my moment of emancipation from the bondage of a particular depressing memory. Out of sight, out of mind? I wonder if that is possible.

Nevertheless, here’s a toast to everyone. Thank you to everyone who has been part of my life. But, for goodness sake, don’t leave me with memories, for even the fondest and sweetest of all will soon become tinged with bitterness, typical of all nostalgias.

Graduation Song: African Rendition

Okay, I'm feeling cheeky right now. So, here's an African rendition of our school's graduation song. Gah! Took me a whole night! But, heck! It's fun. LOL!

Comments, comments!

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SMS Etiquette

I don’t know about you, but when I don’t receive a reply I expect, it can only mean: one, the person has been fried (together with his cellphone in the pocket) by laser-zapping aliens; or two, he has gone to heaven and forgot to bring his cellphone along.

According to the cellphone’s message counter, I sent 23 messages more than the number that I received. That’s an unhealthy trend alright. Conclusion: Most people have better things to do than to reply my messages.

Just in case you are not aware, it’s rather frustrating to wait for someone to reply your messages. Perhaps, I’m already spoilt by the endangered few who have a clean record of instant-reply within merely five seconds. Of course, I try not to be unreasonable – jabbing those micro-sized keys on the handphone might prove challenging for people with fat, stubby fingers. So, if you’re one of those who take forever to reply my messages and coincidentally, you’re from this “physically-challenged” group of people, I pardon you.

Maybe some people just don’t understand when a reply is necessary. So, here’s two simple guidelines. Firstly, if you received something like, “Hey! I rolled off my bed last night and I think I cracked my head!”, you have no obligations whatsoever to send a reply – the person he should be talking to is a neurosurgeon, not you. Secondly, 99.99% of the time, the sender expects a reply from you if he ends his message with question mark – the other 0.01% accounts for rhetorical questions, of course.

So, how long does it take for an average person to send a reply?

Within five seconds. These are rare Olympic-trained SMS-ers who treat the issue of instant-replying as ethical issues. They apparently have nothing better to do than sending short messages.

One day. Once, I sent a message and expecting a reply, waited for a full day before receiving it. Unless you’re living on planet Wachabalucha or Omicron Persei half a “light-day” away, there is practically no excuse for late replies.

An eternity. Face it. These are the people who have better things to do than to reply you. I don’t know about you, but when I don’t receive a reply I expect, it can only mean: one, the person has been fried (together with his cellphone in the pocket) by laser-zapping aliens; or two, he has gone to heaven and forgot to bring his cellphone along.

At the end of the spectrum, I once received an absurd message from a wacko. It read, “Just to let you know I’m still alive. And I’m glad to know that you are, too!” Oh, did he fall off his bed?

With the advent of wireless communication technology, even the monks are more sophisticated than they used to be. You see, living in a monastery can be quite boring sometimes. Recently, with major public exams looming right ahead, some monk decided to offer his blessings to students who are about to sit for the tests.

“Om parayatna… blah blah blah… You will get A’s in your coming exam. Please send this message to nine friends or you’ll fail terribly. (Muahahahaha!) This blessing comes from Temple Sidharwati blah blah blah.”

And so, I had no choice but to be so kind as to spread around the blessing, and also an altered version from Pope Benedict. Minutes later, I received the same message from a friend of mine – who was obviously irritated – except that the Monk wanted me to send it to 999 people instead of just nine! Oh great! Now I’m cursed!

Anyway, I wonder when is the Dalai Lama going to send me his blessings?

A Can of Lychees

Birthdays are good for you. Statistics show that the people who have the most live the longest. ~Father Larry Lorenzoni

Early last year before entering Form Six, I worked temporarily at the customer service counter of a departmental store. My job as a customer service assistant included all sorts of things ranging from redirecting phone calls to making announcements through the PA system. And not to mention, braving barrage of cursings from dissatisfied customers who came to the counter to vent their anger more than to file complaints.

Despite the wide range of “odd jobs” we covered, gift-wrapping was the main sevice our list of duties. Though it could be very hectic during festive seasons, it was not short of amusing encounters. Some people can be very creative (and cheeky) when it comes to buying presents.

Once, there came a Vietnamese who wanted a present to be wrapped. It was a wedding gift to one of his friends. I could no longer recall what was the main item he bought, but he asked for a small box to dump it in together with a couple of CD’s in a black plastic bag. Charles, my Indian colleague looked at him in a manner – which made me so confused – and grinned like an accordion. The Vietnamese guy had a mischievious look on his face, too.

“It’s blue film,” Charles whispered to me.

Oh.

Being a kind friend as he was, the guy even bought his friend a packet of condoms. Wow, how thoughtful!

Working there for three months, my colleague, Gilbert (who was also working temporarily like me) and I got infected by the creative bug as well. We decided to buy something “special” for everyone on our last day at work.

And so, we gave a chinese brush to Charles, who didn’t know Chinese – of course, he could have given it to his daughter as a paint brush. Sam, our supervisor who didn’t own a car was given a bottle of battery water – unless he planned to drink it as distilled water, it would practically come to no use to him. On the other hand, we bought Woondy, the PR officer a “Please Flush After Use” sticker for her toilet – primarily because we couldn’t come up with something better. As for Miss Cheah, the other PR officer, we gave her a packet of bee hoon – that was her nickname.

I guess those are the sins I have to atone for, when I unexpectedly became a victim to my “thoughtful” classmates.

I skipped school last Friday since we are doing nothing much in school currently. The weather was perfect for me to hibernate at home. Then, too, it was my birthday and going to school on your birthday isn’t a very sound idea, considering all sorts of things that could possibly happen to you, as is the “culture” of hormone-enraged teenagers.

Mr Wise Guy’s dissapointment could be vaguely sensed in his SMS: “Hey, why are you absent? We’ve bought you a birthday present!” What I could not sense, though, was the evil grin on his face.

Oh, how sweet! So I thought until I received a second message from a teacher who, in a jeering tone, informed me that my present was a can of lychees!

What the heck!

For the same reason, I think we should be buying fish balls or prawns for Chris’s birthday next month.

To those who know the intended meaning of this cruel prank: you can stop laughing now! To those who catch no ball: sorry for losing you!

In another unrelated matter, I’m still having a headache deciding what to buy for my friend’s birthday next week. Maybe something he’ll never get a chance to use. Something like a brassiere, perhaps?

By the way, I hope no one finished my can of lychees during my absence from school!

Exam Woes

Why study for exams.... Are they not about what you know, not about how much you can cram into your head the night before? ~Anonymous

To say STPM is around the corner is technically inapropriate. For goodness sake, it is just directly ahead!

Except for the rare, few weirdos with an inexplicable penchant for exams, they are more of a taboo to most of us, even for us war-battered veterans who have gone through numerous “battles”.

Exam is a blood-sucking leech that sticks to you indefinitely, taking away all the pleasures of the learning process, especially in a place which adopts an exam-oriented education system. How are you supposed to enjoy when you’re studying merely for the sake of examinations? Just to quote someone, the system promotes rote learning: students memorise answers by heart instead of grasping the concepts and apply them accordingly in different situations. You go to tuition to be taught on answering techniques; you go to intensive classes and workshops for forecast questions. What the heck? This will certainly make Aristotle turn in his grave!

Worst still, some people tend to take exams a tad too seriously and adopt misguided strategies to prepare for the Big One. As a result, their lives are turned up-side-down, totally ruined. Let me give you a couple of examples. The names, of course, are obliterated to prevent them from becoming subjects of ridicule. By they way, I do ridicule them.

First of all, let’s dispel the myth that most students burn midnight oil before exams. Be it drinking coffee, taking stimulants or giving oneself an occasional smack in the face, these people are creative when it comes to keeping themselves awake. But have you heard of a case in which one could not get to sleep because he’s too nervous? This poor insomniac has developed a dependence on cough syrup to get himself to bed. Oh great Lord, talk about taking drugs!

Then, there is another one who has totally shuffled his biological clock by sleeping from eight in the morning to the evening, take his “breakfast” (do you have a technically correct term for this?), study for a couple of hours, take a nap then wake up at ten in the night, then study marathon till dawn. God bless this nocturnal soul!

As for me on the other hand, life goes on as usual. It’s still more play than work, more sleep than study, plus a couple of unaccounted-for missing hours each day.