My To-Do/To-Done/To-Doing List

On a lighter-non-emo-note, this is what I've been up to, summed up nicely in this picture!

Number eight is me loving life! :D

Hope - Pt 2: "How Far We've Come"

It's been a little more than a year from now.

Looking back down the road, at that particular spot where I stumbled...


... fell...

    ... hurt myself...

        ... despaired...

            ... cried out...

                ... looked up...

                    ... and reached out for the hands that helped me up.

I remember how it was like... But it's like looking in a cracked and dirty mirror - everything is fuzzy and fogged up.

I remember how it was like... But the focus isn't sharp as it was before.

I remember how it was like... But those memories are from a lifetime ago. As if it were through the eyes of someone else on the outside looking in.

Like faded words on the pages of an old storybook - familiar but only vaguely, and then with a faint sense of strangeness.

Looking back down that road, I can begin to glimpse that slow and subtle journey of recovery. And that not solely on my own account, but a burden shared on the shoulders of others - even those who were once strangers, but have now become steadfast friends.

Yes. I still remember. Honestly, I doubt I will entirely forget.

But at this moment, looking back down this road, I realize how far I've come. Where I am right now. And how much further this road will take me.

Onwards.



Gravity

I remember the day I heard Gravity for the 1st time. I was in the car with my friend Shwe.

Side note: Shwe is the devil herself, but that's a story for another day. Crap, why is the devil even "my friend"? Ah... Life is so random and ironic.

Anyway...

Shwe turned to me and said: "Hey, have you heard this song by John Mayer?"

Previously, all I've ever heard from John Mayer was quirky stuff from his "Room for Squares" album. Yeah, that's the word that came to mind when I thought of his music - "quirky".

Without waiting for an answer, she flipped on Gravity*.

And that is when I heard the best song I've ever heard. In the history of Ever.

Ok, I sense that saying "the best song ever" might come back in the future and bite me in the backside (ya know, just in case John Mayer makes something even more awesome than "Gravity" like maybe, I don't know, "Anti-Gravity". Or "Gravy". Or "Bacon". Yeah, with a song title like "Bacon" it BETTER be the best song EVER.). So here's the obligatory disclaimer: Maybe "Gravity" might not be THE best song I've ever heard. But it's certainly one of the top 10. Or top 5. Or top 3. Or top one and a half. Ok. Fine. The point is it's just like one of the super-bestest-triple-rainbow-unicorn-sharky-bear-songs-that-don't-happen-unless-the-planets-align-and-the-cow-jumped-over-the-moon k?

I was thinking to myself: "Man... This is good. Like really good..."

Just like that time when you were 13 years old, and you had that fan-freaking-incredi-tastic-awesome-sauce ice-kacang/ cendol/ burger/ cake/ pie/ cookie/ pizza/ instant-noodles/ deep-fried-pork-mee and you just knew in your tiny little 13 year ol' heart that your world was forever changed and that you'd never have another ice-kacang/ cendol/ burger/ cake/ pie/ cookie/ pizza/ instant-noodles/ deep-fried-pork-mee as good as that one in your life ever again.

Yeah. It was exactly like that.

The melody is soulful. The backing vocals - humming and rich. The synthesized acoustics - immediately calming and soothing. And the guitar work - subtle, gentle, smooth... Perfect.

And the lyrics?

Nowadays there's a constant noise barrage of so many throw away songs that come out from other artists who are just mass-album-producing-factories who are in it to make a quick buck or get famous, the lyrics are there cos they rhyme with the next line. Or it's catchy. Or it's outrageous (cos, hey, controversy sells doesn't it? Yes, songs like "If You Seek Amy", I'm looking at you...)

But Gravity's lyrics actually mean something.

It's honest. Very well thought out. The whole is much greater than the sum of it's parts. They tell a story.

I'll leave you to find that out yourself. But trust me, the journey and the realization of the message behind the song is just wow. :)

And now I've come to what I've actually sat down to write about: There's one line in the song that holds particular meaning for me, and that line is when John Mayer sings:

"Keep me where the light is."

It's simple yet powerful.

Keep me out from the fumbling dark.

Keep me where I can see where I'm going.

Keep me safe from my greatest enemies - Me, Myself and I.

Keep Me Where the Light is

*To ward off any arguments on ambiguity, the answer is: No, she did not create gravity. "She flipped on" as in "She switched on" the song named "Gravity". Ok? Ya happy now?

9 Things I've Learnt from Grading my Foundation Physics Class

1. Energy is not conserved.
2. Mathematical constants may vary from time to time.
3. Conventional Laws of Electricity may be amended at any time to suit any occasion.
4. The Creation of a Unifying Theory of Currents, Voltages and Resistances. Unit of measurement? An Ampere Volt Ohm.
5. Gravity is merely a suggestion.
6. Isaac Newton's Laws of Motion have been replaced by the Laws of Wherever-I-Want-it-to-Go.
7. Trigonometry is subject to individual interpretation.
8. Every action has an unequal and impossible reaction...
9. ... and the Pythagoras Theorem... Oh the crying shame... THE PYTHAGORAS THEOREM!!!

Yes, my students have broken every single law of Physics and Math that has ever existed since the dawn of time.

I'm pretty sure in an alternate universe somewhere, I'm being awarded the Nobel Prize of Awesomeness due to me and my students' contribution to science and the debunking of the myth of Physics.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

I have actually no idea how the real deal looks like. I've heard it's some kinda medal.

But this is MY alternate universe! If I say the Nobel prize looks like a trophy then it sure as hell is a trophy!

P.S. I've also developed a great knowledge of hieroglyphs. I can now decipher whether a student-drawn oddly shaped squiggle is either the number '6', the letter 'b' or a mini unicorn head.

It looks the same. Right? Riiighhht?

Friends are Forever

I was on Facebook (yes, it was during those procrastinating hours moments) when I stumbled upon a link to a short story selected for the 2010 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology. The story was written by a Malaysian named J.C. Martin (I did some research and found out that she's from Ipoh! Heehee...) and I teared up a little when I read it. The story shows how much the richness of true friendship surpasses race and time. Here it is below in it's entirety: (if you want to read it on the Asian Writing website instead, click here)

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‘True Friendship’ by J.C. Martin (Malaysia)


“The sea is never always calm,
The sky, sometimes, not blue,
But nothing on Earth can ever change
The friendship we hold true!”

I remember fighting back tears when I wrote this poem in my best friend’s yearbook. It was the last day of school, but the first day of the rest of our lives.

Slowly, Aisha read my little verse with glistening eyes. Finally, she whispered, “It’s beautiful! Thank you!” She looked almost embarrassed when she returned my yearbook where, beneath her picture, Aisha had merely drawn a heart, with the words “Best friends 4ever!” framed within it.

“I wish I had your gift of words, May. What I wrote for you is just so boring and cheesy by comparison!”

I merely waved a hand dismissively, and shrugged the compliment off. At that time, being the ‘brain’ of the class meant that I was uncomfortable with anyone singling me out for what I considered my ‘geekiness’.

“You draw a beautiful heart, though,” I replied lamely, admiring how the drawing twinkled in the sun, thanks to Aisha’s use of her favourite glitter pen.

There was a moment of contemplative silence, then:

“Promise me you’ll come visit during the holidays, May.”

“Of course, Aisha. As long as you promise to come visit me in London!” Even as I said this, we both knew that would never happen. Her parents ran a small mobile fruits stall, a motorised tricycle laden with whatever the tiny orchard in Aisha’s home village could provide: bananas, mangoes, papayas, rambutans*, and, if they were lucky, any wild durians* Aisha’s father happened to come across in the jungle. Every morning at dawn, the fruits were piled onto the motorcycle, and Aisha’s father would drive an hour to the nearest town to hawk his produce.

There was no way she could afford the plane ticket to England.

Although neither of us mentioned it, we both knew we were destined to walk different paths from now on; I had secured a place at a prestigious British university, and I have dreams of settling down abroad. Aisha, on the other hand, could not afford higher education. She would be helping her parents with their fruits stall and orchard, and maybe, just maybe, save enough eventually for a course at a local college.

Somewhere at the back of my young mind, I feared what the distance would do to our friendship, one borne from years of hanging around together, gossiping over a shared bowl of ais kacang*, bemoaning fledgling love affairs under the shade of the old tree in the school field.

The toot of a car horn signalled the arrival of my ride home.

“Do you want a lift?” I asked Aisha.

“Nah, I’ll walk home. Besides, you have a lot of packing to do.”

We embraced tearfully, drawing out our farewell, not wanting to let one another go, but Aisha finally pulls away.

“Heh, go now, or you’ll miss your flight!”

That was ten years ago.

Today, I sit by the window of my London apartment, flipping through my old yearbook, smiling as the old memories come flooding back. I found it in a musty corner while clearing out the store room, underneath a pile of moth-eaten university textbooks I will most likely never use again, but which the hoarder in me refused to throw away. Beside it, in a battered old shoe box, were the letters Aisha had sent me. I have kept each and every one of them.

Seized by a longing for some nostalgic reminiscing, I decided to take leave of the housework, made myself a cup of tea, and settled down on my window seat. Lifting the dented lid off the shoe box, I removed the stack of letters, each one written on flowery, girly paper in various shades of pastel. The heady perfume that used to infuse the pages is now but a faint, almost imperceptible, bittersweet reminder of what used to be. Aisha’s neat handwriting, round and cherubic as the girl herself, smiled at me from the yellowing pages. Ever the obsessive tidiness freak, I had filed the mail in chronological order.

The first one was dated only a week after I arrived in the United Kingdom, all those years ago:

“Hey, May! I hope you’ve settled down OK in London. Getting culture shock yet? Have you met the Queen?…”

The second one came a couple of months after the first:

“Merry X’mas! Thanks for writing back! I’m glad to know you’re having fun! Hahaha, I would have liked to see you getting hit by that snowball! I’ve never even seen snow…”

The third was almost a year later:

“Happy birthday! Don’t worry about the late reply, I’m just glad you wrote back! I was getting worried! I still haven’t gotten a computer, so can’t e-mail you, I’m afraid. No house phone yet, either, let alone hand phone*! I’m sure if I had any of these, it would be so much quicker and more convenient to keep in contact…”

More than a year after that:

“I hope you’re well. I haven’t heard from you in ages! But I guess you’re busy studying. It’s your final year now, right? I’ve pretty much given up on ever going to college…too expensive…”

The last letter from Aisha dates back more than four years, right before I moved from a small rented studio flat, to this, a penthouse apartment, my pride and joy, my first rung on the property ladder, a result of years of scrimping, saving, long hours at work, and a little help from my parents’ slush fund.

I realise that I never sent Aisha my forwarding address.

“Me again! Have you graduated yet? You must have! So what are you doing now? Working? Or are you doing postgraduate stuff? I need updates! Never got a reply from you for my last two letters…you still alive??”

I sigh as the guilt inside my heart grows. I had been too busy with my new life and career to keep in touch with my oldest friend. As I think of the little poem I wrote in Aisha’s yearbook, I smile wistfully at our childish naïveté:

Nothing on Earth can ever change / The friendship we hold true.

But our friendship has changed, hasn’t it? It has stretched itself thin over the distance and the time spent apart, and, like the glittery ink on Aisha’s letters, it is now but a faded shadow of its former sparkly self. I never went back to Malaysia as often as I would have liked, so I probably only saw Aisha for a grand total of four hours in the past decade. As we communicate less and less often, I know that, sad as it may sound, we will one day lose touch completely, and the warm fires of our childhood friendship would be forgotten, like smouldering embers shoved aside in the fireplace of our subconscious.

But something compels me to pick up my pen, just for old times’ sake. Picking up one of the ivory-coloured cards uncharacteristically strewn across my normally spotless work desk, I begin to write:

“Aisha! It’s been a while! Sooo sorry I went AWOL! Not much space to say a lot here, but as you can see from this card, I’m getting married! And you’re invited!…”

I finish the short note, and seal the invitation in a lilac envelope. I know Aisha wouldn’t be able to come all the way to London for the wedding, but I just want her to know I am thinking of her.

It is the least I can do for having neglected our friendship for so long.

************

The doorbell rings as my mother is helping me into my gown. After giving his cravat one final adjustment, my father answers the door, but I am so excited about the wedding, I pay no attention to the exchange.

When Pa returns, he holds a package in his hands.

“May, you have a present.”

“Uh-huh…” I mumble distractedly, as I struggle to get my veil to drape just right. “Just leave it in my room, Pa.”

“It’s from Malaysia.”

My busy hands stop their fussing and fluttering in mid-air. Pa hands me the rather hefty parcel, and I immediately recognise Aisha’s tubby penmanship. As Ma continues to do my hair, I open the box with trembling fingers. The brown wrapping falls away, revealing a soft velvet box of midnight blue. Inside, nestled in crushed satin, are two identical pewter* goblets, the most beautiful ones I have ever seen. My name is carved in intricate cursive script on one of them, my husband-to-be’s name on the other. Pewter ware is expensive, and the craftsmanship on these goblets, with the fine engraving around its lip, is exquisite. How could Aisha afford this?

My eyes mist up with tears at the sight of what I find taped to the inside of the box. It is a photograph, taken more than ten years ago. Younger, plumper, more innocent versions of Aisha and me smile cheekily at the camera, as we squat, hand in hand, under the gnarled old tree in the school field.

Behind the photo is a message:

“Dearest May,

A THOUSAND CONGRATULATIONS!!! How I wish I could be there at your wedding! Sadly, I still can’t afford a flight ticket after all these years. Pathetic, huh? Also, Abah* is very ill. Doctors say he has cancer, so I have to stay and take care of him. But I just had to get you something for your big day. Hope you like your gift!

May, I know we don’t talk as often as we did in the old days, but I want to say that I always think of you, and thank Allah everyday for our friendship. As much as we may want to think otherwise, our friendship has definitely changed, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t as strong as before!

I’m not as good a poet as you, so please don’t laugh at my attempt! This took me hours! Here goes:

Though rivers dry and mountains go,
Though spring will soon give way to snow,
Our friendship bond shall never break,
And ‘tis a solemn vow I make.

Best Wishes & All My Love,

Aisha x”

“May,” my mother gently taps me on the shoulder. “We need to finish off.”

By this point, I am trying my best to wipe the tears from my eyes without smudging my makeup. I place the box lovingly on my vanity, and make myself a mental note:

Tomorrow, I shall sit down and write Aisha a letter. Then, I am going to arrange a brief stopover in Malaysia during our honeymoon.

No way am I going to let such a wonderful friend fall by the wayside again…

************

Glossary:

Abah - Malay term for father

Ais kacang – Malaysian sweet dessert comprising beans, peanuts, jellies and other condiments, topped with shaved ice, condensed milk and syrup

Durian - Pungent Southeast Asian fruit with a hard, thorny shell

Hand phone – Mobile phone

Pewter – Tin alloy, popularly used in Malaysia for fine crafting

Rambutan – Southeast Asian fruit related to the lychee, with soft fleshy spines resembling hair, hence its name derived from the Malay word rambut (hair)

************

About the author:

J.C. Martin was born in Malaysia but now lives in south London with her fiancé and three dogs. She is currently working on a few novels that she hopes to get published. She works as a kung fu instructor to help fund her writing obsession.


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Friendships like this are what we desperately need here in Malaysia.

Starcraft 2

Yes. I has it.

Cost me a bomb though. There're quite a number of hesistant friends who asked me if it was worth the price tag, how's the storyline, is the gameplay good, etc. etc. Heck, before I bought the game, I was one of the skeptical ones too.

But whoa. This game is good. I'm a believer now.

Which partly explains why I haven't been blogging in awhile. But I guess this is something worth bragging blogging about.

Til then, I'll see you on Battle.Net 2.0, where I'll be getting my ego scrambled, beaten up and thrown into rinse and tumble dry by 13 year old kids from South Korea.

Dad

Some of my friends ask me what I'm doing for my dad this Father's day, at which I'd simply reply "Erm... Nothing much actually." The truth is, our family has been pretty much low-key when it comes to celebrations.

We don't go all out with the most extravagant of plans with big cakes or dinners with party hats and streamers. Come to think about it, my recollection of most celebrations are always held in Pizza Hut (of which the last outing we had as a family to a Pizza Hut was years ago).

As for surprise birthday/celebration parties, we don't really buy cakes as my mum is an excellent baker :D. This means all elements of a surprise birthday bash is always determined by how subtle and secret she can do her baking. And I can attest that it's pretty darn impossible to mask the smell of a freshly baked cake wafting from her kitchen, much less keeping the entire baking operation a secret.

Like I said, we might not have the grandest of celebrations, but that doesn't mean that we don't appreciate each other. Our merriment making is just more... modest, I would say. Subtle and a little more quiet in scale.

But I digress.

I grew up with my dad telling me The-Life-Way-Way-Way-Back-Then stories further pieced together with other colorful tales that my other uncles and aunties would regale me with during CNY reunion gatherings.

My dad grew up amongst a family of ten plus siblings (the exact number of which I've forgotten. Chinese families back then were vastly numerous with relationships so mind boggling complicated that it's no mean feat figuring out whether the old lady talking to you across the dinner table during Chinese New Year gatherings is your great-grand aunt or your niece). His family was poor back then and life was hard (this being a point which has been much stressed upon by countless other Chinese parents I believe). But his dad (my grandfather), being very industrious and man of great ideas (another story for another time), turned the house into a bicycle parking lot to service movie goers to a nearby theater.

And so it was during his early years that my dad walked to school in the day, came back home to shift bicycles in the evening til late night, and studied under candlelight til the wee hours of the morning. It was in this manner of perseverance and discipline that he got himself into polytechnic, graduated and got a job as a technician with the local power generation company, TNB. Sometime later, while he was sent to work in Kota Bharu, my dad met my mum. The rest, as they say, is history.

And where My story begins. :)

I can trace my earliest vivid memory of my dad back to a small photograph of both of us when I was about 4 or 5. We were at the Pantai Cahaya Bulan beach in Kota Bharu. At that time, I had this fear of crabs (their pincers go snap snap!) and while playing at the shore, my pants pocket was slowly being filled up with sand from the waves. When I realized there was a bulge in my pocket I freaked out and thought a crab had got into my pants and I started yelling: "Crab! Crab! Crab!" while in the water. It was then that my dad came over and scooped me up in his arms with me still yelling "Crab! Crab! Crab!" at the top of my lungs and my mum took the picture.

Back in our first home in Ipoh, there was a Buddhist temple built into a cave near where we stayed. As a kid, I loved to go there to see the vast caverns and the stalactites (stick TITE to the sky!) and stalagmites (MITE one day reach the sky!). So my dad and I used to venture there on bicycles (sometimes we'd just ride one with me sitting at the back, sometimes we'd just walk) along a small dirt path almost everyday. I can't remember much of what I used to do exactly when I got to the cave, but what I loved was the treasure hunt that my dad would make up on the fly as we rode there. He gave me riddles and I was supposed to find the "treasure" along the way. Sometimes it was a a particular flower or leaf, or it could be a stone, or it could even be a bird on the tree. The sheer eternal wonderment of childhood ensured I never tired of it and I loved those treasure hunt walks.

As I grew older, my dad became increasingly strict with me. As the eldest in the family, it was my "sacred duty" to be a good example to my younger brother and sister. It wasn't that I was a bad student (although I was very average in my studies) or I was a bad son (in fact, I think I was at home more often than my peers who were amongst the more err... mischievous type). During my teenage years, my dad and me began to talk less and less and the pinpointing of my shortcomings began to increase in frequency as well as intensity. It slowly reached a point where whenever one of us spoke it would quickly degenerate into a fiery argument and a war of wills.

I especially remember the time when I had just passed my driving exam and my dad let me drive the car (reluctantly, but out of necessity that I'd need to be driving on my own one day). Nothing I did seemed to be good enough when he was next to me in the passenger seat. The way I held the wheel, the distance I kept from the car in front, changing the gear, parallel parking (heck, parking in general), stopping the car, starting the car, even the way I sat in my seat, if you can name it, he can find fault with it and will criticize sharply. His right hand was constantly hovering around the hand brake like a cowboy gunslinger fingering his six-shooter in a showdown. This went on for two good years until I literally threw up my hands in frustration and almost swore to my mum that I wouldn't drive anymore with him breathing down my back. Then he relented and although the criticisms did not stop, they weren't as frequent and they most certainly weren't as harsh as before.

Although my dad nit-picked at the slightest of my mistakes with the harshest of words, there have been many times where I knew that I severely screwed up something and expected (and most likely rightfully deserved) a tongue lashing from him. But it never happened. Like the 1st time I suddenly got "smart" and thought that jumping a red traffic light was a great idea. I went back home thinking I would get verbally slaughtered when my dad saw the traffic summons I had been slapped with. When I told him, he just asked calmly if I had learnt my lesson to which I said "Yes. I have." and then he said he'd settle the fine for me. When my sister started to ridicule me (it doesn't always happen. She's nice. :P), my dad spoke up in my defence and stopped her and said that he knew I was truly sorry and that was the end of the matter.

It wasn't until I left home for university that I thought I had broken free of my dad and his grim disapproval of me. Finally, I have arrived in a place and time where I am free to do whatever I want to in whichever manner I choose to: A defining point in life for any young person. To my dawning surprise, whenever I made any decision, from the smallest of choices to the greatest of crossroads, the 1st thing I would remember was what my dad had taught me to do. And God knows how many bad decisions I could've and probably would've made during the time I was in university. Not that I haven't stumbled a few times, but it could've been much worse. Slowly but surely, I began to understand, that underneath all the harsh scoldings and the strict constant pressure and the repeated beratings, was the one thing that my dad had been imparting to me all this time: Wisdom.

I learnt the value of patience, and being an impulsive and emotional person I usually rush into things without thinking things through.

One of the most important lessons I learnt from my dad was how to drive. I learnt that it's easy to drive a car, but it's hard to drive a car well. I learnt how to drive safely, how to look out for others on the road, how to drive efficiently, how to park properly and adjust for clearance, how to ease a clutch into place just right so that the transmission from gear to gear is so smooth that the passengers are so comfortable they think that you're driving an auto instead of a manual car. I learnt that driving is more than just skill. Driving is an art.

My musical inclination grew from my musically talented dad, who although isn't formally trained, handles the guitar with rare passion. He sent me for piano lessons, and I joined the school choir which I went further to conduct and enjoyed singing with.

I picked up a love of words and my dad's infectious sense of humor, unknowingly preparing me for a world of public speaking and debates of which, with his quiet but constant support and encouragement, I achieved triumph numerous times.

My dad taught me to fight and to stand up for the things that I believe in. He taught me that, sometimes, winning isn't everything. But what truly matters is that at the end of the day, a man can look himself and know that he fought for what was right with everything that he had.

My dad taught me to love God, because my Heavenly Father loves me. :)

Most of all, my dad taught me how to be a man. I don't think I've reached the peak of the mountain that he is at right now, and I know I still have my shortcomings, but that doesn't mean that I've stopped trying. He hasn't given up on me. Not now. Not ever. He is at the top, one step ahead with his hand reaching down for mine. And I will still continue to learn from him even long after I become a dad myself.

These past few years, me and my dad have been talking and levelling with each other from time to time (in fact, I'll be calling him on the new phone, me, my sis and bro got him this Father's day :) ) We haven't had an argument for ages. Not even a minor one. I find myself returning again and again to him for advice on work, on relationships, on life. At times we still find ourselves running out of things to say to each other, and there're still periods of silence when we're with each other, but it's Okay. These days I feel like I'm rediscovering my dad once again.

As a man who raised a family of three.
A man who loves my mum more than life itself.
A man of a few words, but of great depth.
A man whose love is Show, not Tell.
The man I want to be.

The man I am proud to call my dad.

I love you Papa.
Your son,
Weng Yuen.

I love Word Art!

Have you ever seen a photo or a picture of something that you've liked online and you just wanted to share with the whole world how awesome that is? Well, I was randomly surfing in my spare time (its a wonder why there's so much of spare time... until you get busy :P) and I found this: http://vi.sualize.us/. Visualize is a site that allows people of the internetz to post up pics of photos that they've found on the internet or taken of themselves and share it with the rest of everyone.

I like the pictures that have short sentences of word play on them. Some of them are inspirational, others are meaningful nothings, while quite a huge number of them are really emo. :P Anyway, here are the some of the ones that I like so far. :)

It's not where you're getting to, when you're going,

how you're getting there or even what you're going to do there.

It's who you're with that really matters.

We live in a quick fix generation.

But quite often, the only way to heal is through time.

I'm sorry but Facebook status updates don't count as living.

Nuff said.

Two wrongs don't make a right.

But three lefts will take you back to the same position.

*wink* ;)

"This is your life. Is it everything you dreamed that it would be?" - This is Your Life, Switchfoot.

I think Will Smith said this. Surprising huh? :)

 And a little reason behind every madness.

Really sad. But true.

 Quite often, it's the crazy times that you have with your friends that

help you maintain some semblance of sanity throughout the week. :)

From my all time favorite John Mayer song. :)

And finally, one of my most awesome rules in life. :D

Til the next time! Take care people!

It is Finished.

This actually happened a while back in May. But I'm so glad it's finally over. :)

Next stop, Graduation (for the second time)! :D

Previously... On "Lex"...

You know in every episode of tv series like "Heroes" or "Glee" they have this quick recap on what's been happening in previous episodes just to fill in the story for people who've just started watching or might just want a fast refresher on what's been happening since the last episode? And almost all of them start with "Previously, on..." with that really great Movie Voice-Over guy (where do they get these people?).

Well, since it's been like forever since the last time I updated here goes my "Previously, on...":

• Finished with a medal in the Putrajaya Night Run with Timothy! He beat me this time!

The Posers and The Winners.

(Miss ya bro...)

• Hiked up (more like walked up) Broga Hill together with Shwe, Carmen, Carolyn, Vivian and Eleen. I really really miss the feeling of reaching the plateau at the top. And the view? Awesome. The morning breeze? Even more awesome. :) 

Only picture I have on FB.

Eleen's Missing from This one. Better Picture soon!

• MPO with Stephen Rahman Hughes! To avoid sounding gay, let's just say the whole show, the man, the orchestra... It was just really really good. And he shook my hand! :D

Us with the dashing Stephen Rahman Hughes. :D

• Malacca Road Trip! What started out as a MAD idea for the weekend turned into a shades window shopping fest, delicious Ice Kacang, historical landmark exploring (aka posing and massive cam whoring),ending with a seafood dinner!

Carolyn - Trying to squish me to her size.

Bevon - Ate a whole plateful of prawns.

• Karaoke! Nuff said.

• I can ice skate now! Woohoo! From ultra noob to below average in 2 hours with a little help from my friends and Vivian the pro skater! :D

• And finally, I've joined the ranks of the employed in April. :)

There ya go! All in a nutshell! Til later!







P.S. Watch this spot for more updates on pics!

Welcome Back to Our Scheduled Program...

Has it really been 5 weeks? More than that? So many people have been asking me why I've stopped blogging. But I can explain! Honest! Three reasons:

  1. Facebook.
  2. Facebook.
  3. Did I mention Facebook?

It's the devil's workshop I tell you. Facebook is such a soul-sucking, life-wasting, time-consuming vortex of a black hole. You check in, and it's so freaking hard to check out. The next thing you know... OHMYCRAPWHATHAPPENEDTOTHETIME!!!

This happens to me. Alot.

This is what every single FB addict out there that shares my sentiments has in their heads when they need to tear themselves (painfully) away from their FB page:

"... I'll just check my "recent updates" tab one more time... hold on, 5 more minutes... 1 minute... half a sec... wait-wha-" *commentcommentcommentcomment*

I should check myself into rehab... after I've tagged these photos. :P

Anyway, it's good to be back.

 

A New Chapter

Hey all! I know it's been a long time since I've last updated. Life has been soooooo full and soooooo busy these last few weeks. There has been no let up since Chinese New Year! It's been one of the happiest few weeks of my life, but that's another story (more like STORIES/plural) for next time.

I think I have these spurs of the moment when I suddenly decide to dust off my blog and start writing. And when I do write I promise that there will be plenty of updates (promisepromisepromise)! But as of today, I've got a whole list to do.

Today, much will change.

Today, I will finally find out if I will join the ranks of the employed.

Today, God willing, I'll get a REAL job.

But Today is not everything.

Today is merely the prologue to a new chapter of life.

Today - A New Chapter.

 "Hope is a good thing. 

Perhaps the best of things. 

And no good thing ever dies."

- The Shawshank Redemption.

Dear 26 Year Old Myself,

By the time you read this, it will be exactly 6 months and 25 days since your 25 year old self wrote this. Congratulations, you are now over a quarter of a century old. It's definitely time that you've graduated with your Masters, moved out from university and got yourself a job. A REAL JOB. Yeah, like the type that people stick around in for more than 6 months and earn money with at least 4 digits on the paycheck (and yes, that excludes the 2 numbers after the decimal point) with the 1st digit being a number equal or more than "2".

If you haven't got a job by this time (or at the very least, goodness forbid, got yourself fired/resigned from your first one), I will come around and slap you. Period.

There will be a lot of changes that you'll have to make to adapt to working life. Like waking up earlier than 11am to begin with. For the last time, waking up at 7am to your alarm ringing and continuously snoozing it for 13 times in a row is NOT defined as waking up.

 Maybe I should replace my alarm clock with this to jump start my day.

You might also want to start cutting down your addiction reliance frequent visits on Facebook. Don't tell me you need to photo tag your face on this and that or you need to "like" other people's status and make "smart" comments on them. Bah, excuses. Stop procrastinating and start being productive.

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Oh, and please act your age. I know it's just a number, but you need to stop hanging around younger people and grow up a little. Maybe getting a moustache will help you look like you're an adult for once and not some Foundation kiddo.

On second thought, scrap that last one. I'm sure you look good enough and having too much fun to care about something as inconsequential as age. It's just a number anyway right?

Nah... Not Such a Good Idea.

Keep up your exercise routine and jogging! Remember that you're aiming for a half marathon end of this year. Crossing the Penang bridge! Eyes on the prize! Don't go all flabby on me!

You're gonna meet new people and see new things. But listen up, this is the most important thing, never ever forget where you came from and who your friends are. You wouldn't have made it this far without each one of them. Keep in touch you forgetful bugger and don't you dare blame it on old age! You're twenty-freaking-six for crap's sake! I hope you're still going back to visit Techflow every now and then. Remember that you loved every single moment of being there.

Take care, 26 year old Myself,






P.S. - Get yourself a pair of decent leather shoes for crying out loud.
P.P.S. - And wax them.
P.P.P.S. - Regularly.
P.P.P.P.S. - Please.

10 Things I Like About Chinese New Year

1. Getting Angpaus - Lots of them! 
2. Getting Fat - CNY is the only time you can let yourself go and just gorge on everything on the table without feeling guilty about it. Heck, your uncles and aunties take it upon themselves the sacred duty of egging you on to have more of everything, thank you very much. So pile on the calories now, worry about getting them off after Chap Goh Meh... maybe.
3. History Lessons - I never get bored of listening to my uncles and aunts recall the glory days, especially from half a century ago ("Kuma! What do you mean Youtube didn't exist back in the 1950's? How in the world did you manage to survive???") Nah seriously, the stories they can tell... hoo boy! Youtube is for sissies when you're busy building shelters to evade Japanese bombings.
4. Hanging out with Family - And uncles. And aunts. And cousins. Most of which you only meet up only once a year. It's relaxing just catching up on what's new. Everyone is growing up so fast so soon!
5. Visiting friends - Catching up with ol' high school buddies is always fun. You see how much they've changed throughout the years. The geeks who always got laughed at and shoved around the school hall are now high flying corporate figures. The nerds are showing off their latest brand new techno gizmo-whatchamacallit-gadgets. The awkward shy ones have now morphed into the coolest, hottest guys and girls. And some of the happening people who were the center of attention, and who you thought were gonna make it big after high school? Well... sometimes you just have to wonder why you never hear from them anymore... Kinda ironic when I think about it. :P
6. Visiting friends AND meeting their parents - This is like number 5 - but with benefits (refer to number 1).
7. Visiting friends who just got married - It feels kinda weird when friends your age give you ang pows. Really... really... really weird... but i'm not complaining!
8. New Threads - CNY is always the perfect excuse to splurge on that new suit/dress/skirt/shoes/watch/pants/jeans/perfume/deodorant/bling/branded underwear you've been eyeing but have always been feeling guilty about getting.
9. Watching fireworks - Fire + Explosions + Loud whizzes and crackles and booms = Awesomeness!
10. Getting Angpaus - Yeah, I know I said it before. But I like getting angpaus. ALOT.

Have a great CNY people!!

 Happy Chinese New Year 2010 Everyone!!!

Two Point Oh

FEATURING:

• More pages than ever! Astound your friends with an additional 15 more pages of content!
• 10 never before seen tables and graphs and pictures! In depth analysis with detailed explanations!
• Witty, Engaging and Spell Checked English language! Spend less time falling asleep or wondering if a word was purposely or intentionally spelled wrongly and more time actually reading!

INTRODUCING THE NEW AND IMPROVED...

THESIS 2.0!!

Techflow Massive Camp - Camerons!!

Yes, I know it's been quite a looooooong time since I've updated. I didn't know so many people actually took the time to read what I had to crap! Hahahahaa... It's been almost three weeks since I've last wrote anything but TONS have happened. The most difficult thing with coming back after a long hiatus is decided what to write about. So why not pick up from where I left off last... Techflow Massive Cameron Camp!

We left on a friday afternoon. There were almost thirty ppl coming up by chartered bus. Being "really smart" engineers and all, we slept on the straight roads and started bising-ing on the windy roads. You would think that anyone would start heaving up whatever they had for lunch, but nooooooo~, everyone was too busy ooo-ing and aaah-ing at the sights and lights going up the hillside. Stomachs of iron, we has them :D. But back to the sights... they were awesome! I've never been up to Cameron's at night, but all the tea plantations and other farms were all lit up with the soft warm glow of sunny lightbulbs. And they were everywhere! Don't have any pictures to show, but you'd have to be there to appreciate the beauty of the whole thing. It was breathtaking. :)

 Barre I.J. Center: Where we would be investing the next three days of our lives.

We arrived at the quaint retreat of Barre I.J. Center close to 9pm (i think), had dinner (we were STARVING), and started with the 1st session with ice-breaking. One of the games was the balloon game. We had to write some stuff about ourselves on our balloon and then, after mixing all our balloons up, we each picked a random balloon and we were supposed to guess who that balloon belonged to based on the written characteristics.

That was when I discovered that engineers, besides being "really smart", can be "really creative" as well.

Everyone was either one or more of these things: smart, cute, pretty/handsome, or fun. Oh boy wow! Really? That could be describing anyone in this room! I mean, I'm all of the above too!

... ok never mind...

The guessing game was absolutely funny as we tried to match vague characteristics with even vaguer (is that such a word?) people. Some were pretty hilarious (like Shwe's balloon, she wrote: "The Great" on it).

 Valerie trying to sneak a peek at mah balloon.

I got Carolyn's balloon, one of the most sadistic juniors I've ever had the chance of knowing. Nuff said.

 

Carolyn:

Don't mess with her. She likes to give random, out of the blue pinches. 

I got the blue black marks to show for it.

 

I was so hungry I ate my balloon.

After that I went to bed. Yup, "I" as in singular. Cos everyone else was still high. Me, on the other hand? I'm getting old... :P And it was the coldest night ever! Brrrrrr!

The next morning, we all woke up at the break of dawn for devotion. It was great to hear everyone share about gifts and talents and how we should offer all that we have to God. After breakfast, we had another session of ice breaking. We were all seated in a circle, then one of us was blindfolded, given a rolled up newspaper and had to stand in the middle and swing wildly around, trying to hit someone. Then we had to guess who we had hit based on their voices.

You guys are evil.

We had the morning session, as usual Ps. Ernie drew from his expansive repertoire of songs of how he found God and played a few foot tapping favorites. Next up... station games around Camerons!

At the 1st station, we arranged all the books of the bible in sequential order. 1st team to complete is the 1st to venture out into the town. We got last, even with help from Mr. Michael and Mark and Daniel. Hahahahah! More bible study anybody? :P

But no fear! For the 2nd station, we ran a MILLION miles to some botanical garden where we had to count the colors of the flowers that were there. We counted like a GAZILLION hues in 10 minutes. :D The 3rd station was the bus terminal and we had to sing the UNITEN anthem to an adoring public audience. I forgot the words and just "hmmm... ahhh..." almost half the song.

The 4th and last station, we had to memorize a TRILLION items from a food menu. Mark was nicely looking at his cousin's photo, while all along we thought he had a picture of the food menu on his phone and checking on us. It was around this time that another team caught up with us, making us realize that we were actually in the lead! So we ran all the way back to Barre I.J. We got 1st! And we ambushed the last team! (Sorry William... Better luck next time!). Thanks Mark and Daniel and all involved who went all out to embarass us prepare all the games!

The Winning Team. :D

One massive water balloon fight, Captain Ball game (in which we extracted a sizable rock from Joshua's wounded arm) and ravenous dinner later, we prepped up for malam mesra, themed: Pirates of Cameron Highlands. Ridiculousness of the highest order ensued. Oh, and we played more station games. One of which included spitting sweets. Gross out awesomeness!

Arrrrrrrrrrr! Hoo-ah!! We be da Blu-Ray Pirates!!

Fast forward to the last day, we went to town. Ate some tasty strawberry honey pancakes and headed downhill to Rowen's and Bobby's strawberry farm. We got a backstage pass into the farm and it was awesome! Got a bottle of jam. We also got scones from Rowen's aunt! The best scones... EVER!

I swear the strawberries there are the size of my head.

It tastes even better in your mouth. But I'm sorry... you only get the picture. :P

After a smorgasbord of gorging ourselves, we left and stopped halfway down Cameron's for more feasting. This time at the pasar pagi (it was more like "tengah hari" by then but i don't know what else to call it). We had corn, fried mushrooms and I got chocolate strawberries too (courtesy of Carolyn, who by now was so overwhelmed with guilt from torturing me throughout the whole camp, so she decided to compensate :P).

This time, we being "smarter" engineers, we slept on the windy way down and woke up on the straight highway. Then we bising-ed and crapped and told ridiculous stories and jokes til we got back to UNITEN.

Random photo time!

Cool People Posing.

Some of my Favorite Retards.

Me indulging in one of my favorite activites at camp.

The rest are just sleeping. Tsk tsk...

Oh yeah, we got back and almost immediately went to eat somemore. Bak Kut Teh at Mungo Jerry!!! Pork Heaven! What a way to end the best camp I've ever been to! :D

I've learnt one important thing: It doesn't matter where you go or what you do or even when or how you do it, it's the people that you hang out with that makes life awesome.

P.S. Pictures plucked from Facebook from Shwe's DSLR and Mr. Mike's Camera. :)