Ending the Year.

I end the year wondering, not for the first time, if I'd be studying medicine if I'd been to more hospitals when I was younger. I went with my grandmother to visit a hospitalized relative earlier today, and seeing sick people in their beds helps me understand why some people willingly go through the hell that is medical school. Then again, I was pretty insensitive and unappreciative as a child, so maybe more frequent trips to the hospital back then wouldn't have made much difference.

I end the year with a light throbbing in the right side of my mouth. I had a tooth taken out a few days ago as part of my preparation to get braces installed (after having first gone to see the dentist about getting braces about 10 years ago). It was the first time I'd ever had any kind of work done on my teeth other than scaling, and I am not enjoying the aftermath at all. It doesn't help that I've also contracted a bit of a cold, leaving me in some physical discomfort and a feeling of general discontent.

I end the year waiting for the Arsenal game to start half an hour into the new year. I've missed the past few due to them being rather annoyingly timed, and I can no longer be bothered to stay up too late to watch my team play, especially given the way they've been playing recently. Nevertheless, I still need my Arsenal fix, and it hasn't been fun not watching Alexis Sanchez and co. for a while.

I end the year having moved out of my Kajang apartment. I stayed there for 13 months, and it was maybe midway through that period when I realized that I absolutely did not enjoy living in the Kajang-Bangi area. I am fond of my now-former housemates, yes, and the swimming pool and the occasional trips to the futsal court were nice, but as a whole I just couldn't bring myself to look past the traffic, the lack of parking in front of my apartment compound, and the monotony of eating the same things and/or at the same places over and over again. I had good times in Kajang, but for now I'm glad I don't have to go back anymore.

I end the year feeling that I've regressed somewhat. I'm not as disciplined or motivated as I used to be, and neither do I feel like my brain is as sharp. I'm having difficulty summoning the will to do any kind of writing (which sort of explains why this month's post was left this late), and I'm very behind on both my thesis and the novels I'm writing. Motivation comes to me in cycles, and I suppose I'm currently in a downturn. Constantly hoping to be in an up cycle really isn't sustainable, though, and I need to find a solution.

I end the year caring less about more things, and caring more about less things. I've decided to pay more attention to the things that matter to me, like the people who appreciate and care about me, and bin off everything else, like the people that don't. I care less about what people say and think now, even less than before. I guess once you've decided to put more attention towards bigger stuff, you just stop taking notice of the little things. It's all part of growing up.

I end the year with no clear plan of what lies ahead. While I do have a rough timeline in place, there are just so many variables at play that could drastically alter what I've tentatively placed on the agenda. I'm hoping to find some way to squeeze in another trip abroad at some point, partly because I enjoy traveling to far-off places, but also partly because I miss making videos and I need something to make vlogs about.

I end the year with a deeper appreciation of what it means when things happen according to God's will. I am right where I need to be, and things will happen when they are meant to. Effort on my part is, of course, needed, but I've learned to be more accepting when things don't turn out the way I wanted to. Which happens a lot.

I end the year feeling hopeful. The wheel of life continues to spin, and it's only a matter of time before I'll be at the top again. Bring on 2018.

Peaceful.

Been a bit of a strange month for me, in that I've found things to be quite peaceful despite all the noise going on around me. I'm about two months behind on my research work, and I have to report my progress at a colloquium on Thursday. I haven't decided on what reason/excuse to give for that; I don't suppose 'slacking off' would sit too well with the faculty. Maybe 'personal reasons' would suffice.

At this moment in time, I am a bit motivated to do my work, and therefore it's beyond me how I've been so demotivated for these past few months. I suppose once you've climbed out of a dark hole it's difficult to see what it's like at the bottom.

This has been mostly due, I feel, to my attending of a number of talks over the past month dealing with the Islamic approach to, well, being in a dark place. Attending a few of those talks with an old friend helped too. I've managed to find my motivation again, and, for whatever reason, this time it just feels more sustainable than before. Perhaps I just have a clearer picture of what I'm doing, and perhaps it's just the time-running-out factor that's triggered me into action, but generally I just feel more at peace with myself and my research. I just want to get this done with so I can move on to the next stage of my life, whatever that will be.

Of course, I still have no idea what I'm going to be doing once I complete my Master's. My supervisor told me she's submitted my name for a PhD scholarship starting in September of next year, and if I'm interested she'll push it through. While that does sound enticing, I still wonder if it would be better for me to go into the industry first before getting my doctorate. I reckon it could be difficult for a PhD holder with no industrial experience to get a job outside of academics and research, especially considering the amount of salary I'd be asking for.

There's more to that dilemma, but I don't suppose you'd want to hear about the intricacies of it. It's something I myself would prefer not to think about. Deciding on my next holiday destination sounds like a lot more fun.

I have been thinking about going to Ireland, to be honest, as an old friend who's studying there hit me up the other day and invited me to come over. I haven't actually looked up what's there to see in Ireland, as that can wait until later when I want the hype to build up, but I'm sure there'll be something.

But do I want to spend several thousand ringgit on another trip to Europe? It's a few thousand ringgit I could be putting in my savings to buy a house or something at some point. Is that money better spent investing on physical assets or making myself more cultured? Suddenly, thinking about my next holiday destination isn't so much fun anymore.

I guess things will happen in time, and whatever happens will be for the best. The good thing about the future is that it's always still a way off, and you don't really have to think about it too much. For the moment I'll just live in the present and see how things go.

Diversifying.

I've been having this knee problem for the past few months. I picked it up while playing futsal one afternoon, and for the rest of the day I had trouble bending my left leg, or even just putting weight on it. I had trouble sleeping that night because the pain just kept on acting up.

After a while - maybe a few weeks, though I can't remember - my knee stopped hurting and I was able to climb stairs normally again. I wasn't sure if my knee had fully recovered, so I decided to test it out by going for a little jog with my housemates (and a couple of their friends) one night in Putrajaya. I ran at my usual pace, and it was fine at first. After about 10 minutes or so, I started to feel something in my knee, but it was pretty minor so I ignored it like the supposed tough guy that I am. 10 to 15 minutes later, it got worse and eventually I just had to stop running and was forced to walk the rest of the way.

It was only then that I decided to pay a visit to the doctor, which was, in retrospect, something I should have done right from the beginning. There just happens to be a physiotherapy clinic about 10 minutes away from where I live, which was convenient.

I didn't actually get to see the doctor on my first few visits, and just went ahead with the physiotherapy. It was only later on that I finally got my knee checked by the resident specialist - I don't remember what exactly the issue with my knee was (he mentioned a bunch of medical terms that went over my head) but I was just glad that it was nothing too serious. By then, of course, it had been quite some time since I'd first picked up the injury, so my leg didn't really hurt at all. Nevertheless, the injury was still there, and I was advised to go for a few more physiotherapy sessions.

Last weekend, under advice from the physio, I went for a light walk and jog on the treadmill. Happily, I had no issues with my knee and today, the physio said I could now go back to my regular sporting activities, under the condition that I take it easy and preferably while wearing a knee guard. Today's session was therefore the last one for now - and hopefully for a long, long time - and I couldn't help but crack a smile. I was finally free. It sort of felt like I'd just graduated.

Throughout my entire life, I've never suffered an injury like this. I've never had any issues that ruled me out of sports for an extended period of time. I've always assumed that I've either just been pretty fortunate this whole time or my body was just a bit hardier than others. Whatever it was, there's a first time for everything, and this was a very new experience. And it was awful.

I've read about the psychological effects that injuries can have on footballers. Mine was fortunately just a little muscle issue, of course, but there are footballers who get their legs broken and their cruciate ligaments ruptured. It gets very hard to go back into football the way they used to, and many a player has been said to have never been the same after suffering a serious injury.

I'm thankful my injury wasn't a serious one - I could probably have recovered a lot quicker if I hadn't been so lazy with the exercises - but it still affected me psychologically. People who know me know I enjoy playing football more than anything else, and having that taken away from me for such a long period of time just subconsciously messed me up. It's not that I play that much anyway, and I'm not even that good, but when I'm not injured I know that I can play anytime if the opportunity were to arise. When I am injured, however, any possibility of playing is completely ruled out, and that's frustrating.

Perhaps a lesson I can learn from this is that I shouldn't be too dependent on playing football to relieve stress, or to get an emotional rush to fill up the vacuum that everyday life leaves inside me as it sucks out my soul. There are lots of ways to be happy, and just because one outlet is unavailable doesn't mean I shouldn't be able to go off to another one. Diversification is a word that is used in the finance world to refer to spacing out your investments and not focusing on a single entity or industry; perhaps it would be wise for me to start diversifying my emotional investments better.

There are lots of things that I could - and should - put more emotional investment into, especially things that are a lot more important than a mere game. But the thing about football is that isn't 'a mere game', it's a lot more than that. I read a lot about football (though not as much as I used to), and it isn't all just the actual game itself. I've personally learned a lot about politics, geography, business, economics and social issues, to name a few, from reading about football.

And there I go, defending football again. I'm sure there'll come a time when I just get too caught up with other, more important things to read about football every single day, and there will be a time when there'll be other things that make me happier than kicking a ball around a field or court. Is that time anytime soon? Maybe, for the sake of my emotional wellbeing, it needs to be. Being crippled physically shouldn't have to disable me, my brain and my emotions completely.

Kelantan.

Sabak Beach.

I'm at my aunt's place in Kelantan at the moment.

Yes, Kelantan. I've only been to this state once before in my life, all the way back in Form 4 for a school competition hosted by SM Sains Machang. Other than the school, the only other place I went while I was there was a night market at Wakaf Che Yeh, which at the time was a labyrinth of stalls and a haven for cheap knock-off football shirts.

This time around I'm in Kota Bharu, the capital of Kelantan. I flew here yesterday afternoon; an old friend from Rembau who happens to be studying at a university about 10 minutes away from the airport picked me up and then took me for lunch followed by a little tour of the town.

First things first: I seriously underestimated how developed the place would be (and yes, I realize how offensive that might be to some people). While Kota Bharu is, of course, not exactly KL, the town center reminds me a little of Kuantan. Not exactly metropolitan, but not too rustic either.

The reason I'm in Kelantan, by the way, is because I'll be going to Perhentian Island with my housemates (and their friend) later this week. I've never been there, or any Malaysian island for that matter barring Langkawi (Penang doesn't count), so it should, by default, be a memorable trip.

So why didn't I wait until after getting back from the island to write about this little vacation? I'm not too sure, to be honest. Maybe I just feel like writing. Or maybe I just subconsciously know that I'm not going to have much to write about Perhentian. That's not a slight on the island, but instead more an indicator of where my interests lie.

I've spent a day and a half here in Kota Bharu now. My aunt has been staying here for a few years, and her husband is a native, so I've been getting a lot of insight into (a) their life here specifically and (b) life in Kelantan in general. That's the kind of stuff that really gets my attention, not so much the tourist attractions. I mean, I like seeing things that I don't normally see, but that doesn't necessarily mean some kind of natural or man-made structure. It could also be the culture; how the people in the place live their lives.

My life growing up was rather sheltered, I'll admit. I was born into a middle-class family with two well-educated parents and was raised in a neighborhood that the first search result on Google describes as "an affluent and elite residential estate nestled on the hillside of Ampang". When you grow up in that kind of setting, surrounded with friends from similar backgrounds, you sometimes forget that there are plenty of people out there who don't live the same way you do, who go about their daily lives in ways you can't even imagine.

I like learning about how people live. It tells the story behind a person; why they are the way they are. See that guy who never stays back late at work? He's got a sick child at home. See that girl who doesn't talk to anyone outside of class? She has to work two part-time jobs to pay off her family's debts. Understanding a person's story is how you understand a person.

Kelantan is known for being a really rural, traditional place (which is backed up by the statistics: this is the least urbanized state in Malaysia), and coming here, I can sort of see why. These people have a simple, relaxed way of life, and why would they trade that all in the name of  'progress' and being 'modern'? They're happy with how they live, which isn't something a lot of us city folk can say.

That's not to say I'd want to live here, or at least not right now anyway. Maybe someday in the future, after I've done everything I've ever wanted to do, maybe I'll move to the countryside and spend the rest of my days gardening. I'll be one of those old men who slowly drive their motorcycles down the middle of the road and take pleasure in how annoyed all the impatient young whippersnappers driving their cars behind me get when they can't overtake. Maybe someday, but not right now. I'm still an impatient young whippersnapper.

August.

It's been a busy month.

It isn't that August has had that much more stuff to do than usual, but it's certainly felt that way. Besides the usual Rawang stuff, I also had to do an assignment that I absolutely did not enjoy as well as deal with all the housework that came with our maid's sudden resignation. I also managed to injure my knee playing futsal and have been finding stairs to be particularly antagonizing these past few weeks.

But it was mainly that annoying assignment that made this past month feel particularly taxing. For the first time in my life, I did an assignment with the sole aim of passing. Looking back on the assignment now that it's over, and especially in comparison what others did, I feel like I could have done much better if I'd wanted to. I suppose that's what happens when your grade doesn't matter, just as long as you pass.

Next month should be a pretty busy one as well, with a proposal defence, the Rawang visit, and a potential trip to Kelantan being the main highlights, but it helps that all three of those are (a) important and (b) not things that I hate doing. I like having things to do, just as long as doing them doesn't make me feel like I'm dying on the inside.

For anyone who's interested, here are a few things that make me feel like I'm dying on the inside:

a) Doing arts and crafts

b) Attending events that have anything to do with developing 'leadership' or 'entrepreneurship' skills

c) Selling products I wouldn't buy myself

d) Networking

e) Seeing trashy posts on Facebook

And here are a few things, while being objectively mundane, that I find to be at least tolerable:

a) Buying groceries

b) Going to the bank

c) Performing household chores and other errands

Yes, I would much rather do the dishes at home or wait in line at the bank than attend a youth leadership conference. Sue me.

Life is as much about the stuff you hate or tolerate as the stuff you like, I suppose, so maybe I shouldn't complain too much. But then again, complaining about something is one way to channel my frustration at it, and it's certainly a better way of doing so than breaking stuff or something like that.

On a side note, is the Malaysian culture of complaining also an indicator of a constant underlying frustration, for whatever reason, that most of us feel? Would we complain less if our situations were to improve, or would we just then find something else to complain about? Just a thought.

Well, this has been a rambling, incoherent post. I find myself writing stuff like this more often than not nowadays, and I guess it shows the state that my mind is in these days. Guess I'll sign off now.

Reunion.

This will be a bit of a rambling post, with an only-just-about coherent topic and mostly just a collection of thoughts. You have been warned.

It's been about a week since Ramadan ended, meaning that it's been about a week of Eid/Raya celebrations. Despite Eid being only a day, and is celebrated for as long in most other countries, in Malaysia it tends to last for an entire month. Given our culture of open houses and there only being three to four weekends for them to be held in, I suppose that's understandable.

I recently attended an open house. It was at the family home of a Rembau classmate, thankfully not too far away from where I live. He and his family had one last year as well, which I also attended. This time around, though, more of our Rembau batchmates showed up, making things into a mini-reunion of sorts.

The thing about meeting up with your old friends is that you get to catch up on their lives, and they get to catch up on yours. Inevitably, and especially when you're all the same age, comparisons are made, in quiet if not out loud. It's normal to feel inferior when your friend from school is currently doing 'better' than you, or to feel superior when he or she is doing 'worse'. Such thoughts are only natural, and there's nothing to be ashamed of for having them. How you act upon those thoughts is far more important.

The way I like to look at it is by looking at life as a really long road trip. Having being born in the same year, my batchmates and I started off on our respective journeys at the same time, give or take a few months. Each of us have our own advantages and disadvantages, which all play their role in deciding how fast or how smoothly we all move along.

The main thing to remember about a road trip is that it's not a race. It doesn't matter how quickly you move along, so what difference does it make how much faster someone is going, or how much slower? You'll still get there in the end, and at your own pace.

23 years old and not yet graduated? Cool. 23 years old and single? Alright. 23 years old and without a clue what to do with your life? No problem. Whatever you're looking for in life, you'll get there eventually. And if you don't get what you want, maybe it wasn't what's best for you anyway. Just have a little faith.

Anyway, enough of that. Back to the reunion.

There were some people I'd either not met or spoken to in years, either at the open house or at the futsal session a few of us had later that night. Maybe I'm better at reading people now, or maybe my friends have simply changed as time went on, or more likely a combination of both, but I noticed things that I hadn't noticed before. There were certain characteristics that, for whatever reason, I'd never associated with these people. Depending on what they were in relation to the certain people I associated them with, I was either pleasantly surprised or mildly disappointed. Nevertheless, it was nice to meet up with my school friends again. These people were a large part of the best years of my life (thus far), and a bit of nostalgia every now and then is always nice.

There is, of course, that niggling feeling, nay, knowledge, that things will be different in the future. We're all going to grow up, get jobs, start our own families, and eventually get so caught up in our own lives that it'll be difficult to meet up like this even on an annual basis. That's life, I suppose, and that realization should be a solemn reminder to live in the moment. We should appreciate what we have while we have it, because there will come a time when we won't have it anymore.

Personally speaking, one way I appreciate the moment I'm in is by learning from it. Quite a number of people I saw at the reunion were from rather different fields of study to mine, and from rather different study institutions as well. I think I took good advantage of that; highlights from the day included a discussion on developmental psychology, stories of money-saving shenanigans abroad, and a conversation with a friend on said friend's struggles with depression. I really learned a lot that day.

I suppose it's time for us all to return to our lives now. I'll just wrap up this post by saying that I'm looking forward to the next time I meet up with these guys - reunions don't come around often, but it's their elusiveness that makes them all the better.

Politics.

Earlier today, I spent some time reading up on the current Qatari diplomatic crisis, which eventually led me to reading about things like the Muslim Brotherhood. I then decided to stop before I went much deeper down that particular rabbit hole. When religion and politics are mixed together, it's difficult to tell how much of it is actually religious and how much is just political.

The thing about politics is that it's difficult to be unbiased when talking about it. One of the things that put me off becoming interested in the subject when I was younger was the fact that things always seemed to be so polarized - there were always two distinct sides, each with a steadfast and unwavering belief in its own superiority over the other. Anyone who knew anything about politics always seemed to already have a position which they saw as the correct one, thereby implying that anything else was wrong. It was pretty much always a case of us against them. It was pretty much always a choice between black and white, when in reality there's always plenty of grey.

Another issue I had with talking about politics, especially in this country, was that it almost always had to involve race and/or religion. To go against a political party that associated itself as being representative of a certain race or religion was to go against said race or religion. All in all, a part of me decided that it probably wasn't worth going into any of that, especially since I was, at the time, of an age where my political beliefs didn't really seem to matter.

As time went on, however, I developed an interest in the science of politics, particularly with regards to political ideologies. Reading George Orwell's Animal Farm and 1984 most likely played a part in that, and I found intellectual satisfaction in learning about politics away from the context of the real world, where so much more came into play.

I then started following global politics; it is easier to separate emotion and logic when you and your own country are not directly involved. As a kid, I enjoyed reading about far-off lands, and how different they were from where I lived. Today, reading about what politicians in other countries do is probably just a more grown-up version of that.

It's just part of my nature to be intellectually curious, so I suppose it was only a matter of time before I started gravitating towards matters of such complexity. My current status as a Master's student is also playing its own role in developing my mind; it's unsurprising that I've chosen to expand my thinking, outside of my studies anyway, through a field that demands me to do so at a standard higher than I've been used to in the past.

It wasn't too long ago that a former lecturer of mine, who I was helping with data collection for a research paper, suggested that I consider working for the United Nations at some point. I found the idea to be quite appealing, albeit one that I later put aside after realizing that I still had a pretty long way to go to be qualified to work for such an organization. Keeping myself informed on global matters is, I suppose, one step towards that.

At this point in time, I still don't have a clear vision for my future. There are a lot of possible paths which all depend on things that may or may not happen. That's just life. The main thing now is to keep growing and developing myself as a person. It's always good to open as many doors as possible; I may not know which one I end up choosing, but it's better to have more options. 

Writing About Writing.

I must have been about six when I first started writing stories, maybe two years after first learning to read. The earliest I can remember was a comic (I'm counting that as a story) involving some original characters my then-very-young mind cooked up. The notebook I wrote it in had one illustration per page, and the content was heavily influenced by my favorite comic at the time, Calvin and Hobbes, of which my dad had a number of compendiums at home that I was able refer to.

Outside of the pages of that notebook, my characters would also regularly manifest themselves in the shape of my hands, which I would play with as if they were toys. I didn't need much material to create characters back then; I remember having a red pair of scissors that I would pretend was a character in my imagined universe and used to play with it all the time, even in class. That pair of scissors was eventually confiscated by my Math teacher, but we had some good times together up until then.

I continued making comics into primary school. A friend and I worked together on an entire series of comics set in outer space that had almost 30 volumes, though many of them are still (and realistically will always remain) unfinished. We then went to secondary school and started on a new series of comics, but at this point it was clear to both of us that he was the better artist and I the better storywriter, and so we divided tasks as such. The protagonist this time was a superhero, influenced by my friend's newfound love of Marvel comic books. We didn't get very far with this new character, however, especially after I moved to a boarding school in Form 4.

Aside from the comics I used to make, I occasionally tried my hand at writing fiction. I started becoming obsessed with football at 13, and twice attempted writing football-themed stories. I never finished either of them. I was perhaps, at the time, more suited to writing essays, which was always my favorite thing to do in school besides math and playing football. During Form 4 and 5, in particular, I reached my storywriting peak - I somehow managed to come up with a new, original story for every single English exam. Only for the actual SPM English paper did I resort to recycling a story I'd used before as, for whatever reason, my imagination chose that very moment to desert me.

Maybe it was a sign of things to come. I've been finding it difficult to write fiction ever since, as my mind seems to get less and less imaginative the older I get. Nowadays it more readily absorbs the cold realities of the real world and its ills, rather than coming up with fantastical new ones. Where I used to dream up entire universes with my hands and pairs of scissors, it is now a lot more natural for me to see the harm they can cause and have caused to the world. As time moved on and my mind developed, there became increasingly less room for fantasy.

While I have accepted that I am maturing into an adult and that this is a normal thing that happens to everyone, part of me still wishes that I still had the same imagination I did when I was younger. I enjoy writing, and I always have, but I have missed being able to write as freely about whatever popped into my head as I used to. I guess I still do, as evidenced by my regular updates on this blog, but writing vaguely about what's been happening in my life isn't the same as writing fiction. What pops into my head these days involves more memory and realism than imagination and idealism.

***

Last Saturday, I dropped by the KL International Book Fair to pick up a copy of Micro Malaysians!, the anthology featuring the short story I wrote (the one I was so excited about a few months ago). My family and I used to go every year, but at some point we stopped because, well, I guess we just couldn't find the time to do so. To be honest, I didn't really want to go this time around because there'd be so many people (as always), and I could have picked up the book from the Fixi store at a later date anyway. But on that Saturday afternoon, there was one object - or person, rather - of interest: a primary school English teacher named Anwar Hadi, who edited the anthology and was the one in charge of picking the stories. He would be at the Jelajah Lejen Fixi booth for a book signing.

Before he was a schoolteacher, the man used to make these entertaining videos on YouTube until, well, he just stopped. He still makes videos these days, every now and then, but the content has understandably changed. Nevertheless, as someone who enjoyed watching his stuff back in the day, I was quite excited to meet him (though you could hardly tell from the below picture).

He turned out to be a nice, humble, soft-spoken guy who thanked me multiple times for sending in my story. Which was pretty much what you'd expect from a YouTuber, I suppose, and in particular one who was around before all the loud, extroverted vloggers came into the YouTube picture. In fact, he seemed so introverted that I think I might have been the less awkward one during our conversation. That's not a slight on him, of course - I love people who are awkward.

There are two types of people who I can see myself getting really excited about meeting: footballers and YouTubers. That's because they're the two types of people I watch on a regular basis. I would have probably gone nuts if I'd met a footballer when I was in France during the Euros last year, or if I'd bumped into PewDiePie when he visited KL not too long ago. I say 'probably' because I don't really know; I'd never actually met one from either category before prior to Saturday.

Anwar Hadi is the first YouTuber who I'm a fan of that I've ever met, and I guess my behavior on the occasion (not too out of control, I suppose, which is good) is a glimpse of how I would act if I were to ever meet another one in the future. Though I was expecting to meet him and could thus prepare myself; it might be different if I were to literally bump into someone like Ryan Higa somewhere.

The thing with meeting people you respect and admire, however, is that you realize that, in the end, they're really just regular people like yourself. They just happen to be very talented in a certain way, and worked hard enough to get the opportunity to be in the position to receive your respect and admiration in the first place. And I guess that's kind of inspiring.

Rewatching The Sound of Music.

I decided to rewatch The Sound of Music with my sister, mainly for the nostalgia, but also because it's a great, iconic musical. The last time I'd seen it was years ago when I was a little kid, and I found that there were many scenes in the movie, and many other things about it, that I didn't seem to remember at all. For instance, I didn't remember it being almost three whole hours long. Of course, the runtime was padded by a lengthy opening sequence and an intermission midway through, but even so, that must have left about another two-and-a-half hours. I really didn't remember it being that long. My memory of my childhood seems to be even sketchier than I thought.

The thing about rewatching movies as an adult (I'm using that word loosely...) that you first saw as a kid is that you pick up on things that completely went over your head back then. As a kid I only noticed the music, and had maybe a basic understanding of the plot. I remembered Do Re Mi, Sixteen Going On Seventeen, Edelweiss, and that yodeling song with the puppets, among others. I remembered Maria being a sort of nun who went to the Von Trapp household as a governess, falls in love with the children and eventually becomes their mother. And for whatever reason they all sing together on a stage at the end.

(Sorry for the spoilers, but come on: this film first came out in 1965.)

Today I watched it again with older, wiser (and slowly deteriorating) eyes, and this time I was able to grasp the finer nuances of the movie. From the seriousness of the Nazi occupation of Austria and the tension of the final act, to the body language the characters displayed and certain moments where even the very camerawork helped to portray the mood - I couldn't have been able to appreciate any of this in my primary school years. It was a reflection of how far I've come since then, in terms of understanding films as well as life in general.

Understanding childhood films as an adult is just a microcosm for life itself - things always seem clearer to you as time goes by and you get older. You understand more why things happened the way they did. You understand more why people did what they did. And you understand why everything had to turn out exactly so, even if not in the way you would have liked them to at the time.

Young me would probably have liked The Sound of Music to have a lot less talking and a lot more singing. Older me now gets just how important the talking parts were to the movie, and that if I wanted to just listen to music I'd be better off going on Spotify or YouTube (though to be fair, neither were options back then). Older me understands that it probably wouldn't be classed as one of the greatest musicals of all time if there'd been a lot more singing than there already was, as well as a lot less talking. Musicals aren't all about the music.

Life is like a musical, in a way. And there's a young child in all of us that wishes that there would be more of the happy singing and dancing, and a lot less of the boring (and in some cases depressing) talking parts. But just like a musical, we really have to have both for it all to make sense.

Intense.

Last week was a hectic one for me as I had my first gig as head facilitator for that monthly motivational camp I mentioned in my last post. With it being my first time handling a program of that nature, and as the person in charge to boot, my brain activity reached levels it hadn't seen for a very long time. The event was on Saturday, and it's taken me until today (Tuesday) to properly calm down.

I slept earlier than usual the night before the program, but my brain just wouldn't give it a rest - I found myself waking up multiple times throughout the night. I left the house at about 7.15 am, and in the hour or so I spent in the car on the journey to Rawang, I just couldn't turn the radio on. I did try, but I could only take a few seconds before switching it back off. Music may be calming to some people, but it has the opposite effect on me at times like these. I guess I was just so focused on what I needed to do that day that I just couldn't have any kind of distraction interfere with my concentration.

I'm a guy who sets high standards for the things I do. Thus, when I have to do something important and I have no idea how it's going to turn out, I get pretty stressed out as I do what I can to ensure the best possible outcome. I spent much of last week going over possible scenarios in my head, stressing myself out in the process. Things got increasingly more intense as I got closer to the day of the program. Maybe that's some form of mental disorder, I dunno, but that's the way it's always been for me and I guess I'm used to it by now.

When this sort of thing happens, namely when I do something new that's also significant, the stressfulness of it all just makes me question myself, asking things like why I do these things to myself and stuff like that. But at the same time there's a voice in my head that calmly reminds me that, actually, I know exactly why, and it's this voice that keeps me going every time. It doesn't fully drown out the negativity, but it does a good enough job.

Then I actually do the thing that's new and also significant, and everything's just fine. Maybe now you expect me to say something about how I wondered why I even worried in the first place, but I'm not going to, because I didn't. I know why I worried in the first place - maybe I don't have a scientific explanation for it, but I suppose it's normal for someone to be worried in the face of uncertainty. After all, if you don't worry, would you even prepare?

One thing I've learned in life is that things always work out, though sometimes (okay, most of the time) not in the way you expect. Things don't have to be perfect - though it would be great if they were - and just because you think something didn't go well doesn't mean that it didn't.

The program thankfully did go well, of course, even though we started late and overall time management was a bit off. The most important thing was that the kids involved seemed to have a good time and hopefully benefited from the activities we'd put out for them. Even so, my brain just kept bringing up incidents from the day where things could have been done better, and I needed a solid three-hour nap when I got home to get my mind to drop down a gear or two.

Things will hopefully be better for the coming months, as at least now I've gotten most of the uncertainty out of the way - I know what I'm dealing with now, and what to expect. Hopefully my concentration won't be diminished by the lower stress levels I should now be facing. On top of that, I actually enjoy the work I'm doing, and the people I work with are pleasant enough. What more motivation could a guy need?

Now if only I could similarly motivate myself for my MPhil research. That time will come, I'm certain of it.

A New Challenge.

I recently applied to be a facilitator for this monthly motivational camp for underprivileged students. It's organized by this non-profit, non-government organization that works on addressing education inequality in Malaysia, which I personally think is a wonderful cause.

I thought it would be a fun thing to do - I'd have something else to do other than my Master's research, I'd be doing something I actually enjoy doing in the form of teaching people, and I'd be meeting and working with new, intelligent, like-minded people. I've been in my comfort zone for who knows how long now; I thought it was about time I got back out there and challenged myself again.

I then got selected as a head facilitator after a Skype interview, in which I was asked (among other things) to provide an example as proof that I am, in fact, compassionate. I thought that was a strange one - it could have been worded another way, I suppose - but I guess you need some way to weed out the sociopaths. Sociopaths can actually fake compassion, though, which would deem that question pointless... but anyway, I digress.

Things have officially started now. I went for a training session at an office in KL, where I discovered what I was actually in for. Almost everyone there seemed to be brimming with positivity and peppiness, which is probably what you'd expect from people working in the business of motivation and inspiration. It is, however, the complete opposite of the aura I'm usually perceived to project, but I guess sometimes you need a different approach. Not everyone is into the whole blinding-optimism thing; I know I don't get particularly inspired by that stuff, and I'm surely not the only one.

There was then a Skype meeting, in which the task I had at hand was explained to me in more detail. I'm not gonna lie - it sounds really hard. It's a lot of work, and more so especially since no one in my team (more on that later) has any experience working with this organization before. But I guess I made the decision to accept it the moment I signed up for it, and I'll just have to do my best to meet the (pretty lofty) expectations that I've been set.

I then got assigned to a school in Rawang, a place I don't believe I've ever been to. The team I'll be working will consist of myself and six others, all of whom happen to be girls. I've worked as the only guy in an otherwise all-girls group before, but it's a new challenge this time as the racial composition isn't quite what I'm used to. I'll be meeting a few of them later this week (most of them for the first time); hopefully we'll be able to get along and work well together.

On top of that, there's also the Master's research I'm being paid to do. I've been going way too slow, if I'm being honest - this month marks six months since I first submitted my study application to MMU (though I did only get approved in February), and I'm only about halfway through my proposal. I've been procrastinating far too much, and I'll really need to dig deep and find the motivation to step things up.

I find it a bit ironic that I'm getting paid to study and paying to work (it's volunteering, innit) as a camp facilitator. Just another on the list of things I didn't plan on doing after graduation, I suppose, and also inevitably soon to be on the list of things I didn't regret putting myself through. Life is a journey, and all that.

It's late at night and I really should be getting some sleep, but blogging is good for a soul that needs a place to just ramble and not care (too much) if anyone sees. I mean, if I wanted someone to read my thoughts, I would have written it out on Facebook. The stuff I write here these days probably doesn't really benefit anyone too much other than people with at least a passing interest in what I get up to.

Well, that's that. Here's hoping I have a productive day tomorrow.

Managing.

The 2016 SPM results were released today (or yesterday, I guess, since it's past midnight as I type this). I have no idea how either of the secondary schools I attended performed, but the lack of good news, particularly regarding the one in Rembau, is probably a sign that the world hasn't exactly been set alight.

I still retain great affection for Semesra, as the two years I spent there were two of the best years of my life. I genuinely want it to do well, though the downward trend in academic results since the heady days of my batch seems to indicate that it's unfortunately set to be going the way most other SBPs have. The slide is quite saddening, and it's something I hope to be able to address someday.

A former lecturer of mine, who I consider a good friend, has a son who got his results today. He did very well, considering he's from a non-boarding school (albeit a good one). His mother was "ecstatic", as any mother would be. I was reminded of back when I got my own SPM results, almost exactly six years ago - as if I ever needed reminding. It's something that I still think about from time to time.

Most people will have moved on by now; I can't say I fully have. Can I really be blamed for that? It was a significant, watershed moment in my life, being the first time I'd ever had that kind of expectation put on me, which I subsequently failed to meet. I know most people would have been overjoyed with those results, but most people did not set themselves the same target I did. What most people consider to be excellent, I consider to be insufficient.

I remember the hollowness I felt. I remember having to hide my dissatisfaction. I remember accepting well-meaning congratulatory remarks the same way you'd accept a gift you neither want nor have a use for. I had fallen short of the expectations I'd placed on myself, and, to me, that was no success. Those were not good feelings. Anyone who thinks I'm a bit precious for still being hung up on my SPM results six years on is missing the point. It's not about the results, it's about me failing to deliver. It's about me being brought back down to earth from the lofty pedestal I'd been put and had put myself on. I did not ask for it to have had such a big impact on me, but it did and here we are.

In the battle of heart vs head, the fact that you have to constantly remind yourself to use your head just shows that the heart is stronger. And maybe that's why bad memories don't go away; you might forget a person's name or face, but you don't forget how they made you feel. I don't remember precisely how the day I got my SPM results went, but the emotions have stuck around.

I've learned over time that emotions should be confronted, not ignored or repressed. Feeling happy? Show it. Feeling sad? Show it. Feeling angry? Show it. All through the proper channels, of course. Emotions need to be let out, not boxed up. I was guilty of doing the latter for much of my early life, but I'm a lot better at managing my feelings now. As I mentioned in a previous post, I'm more emotionally stable than I've ever been, and that's mostly down to learning how to manage my emotions properly.

Things have worked out for me, of course, and looking back, I wouldn't change a thing. If I had gotten what I'd aimed for in my SPM, life would have turned out a lot differently. In an alternate reality, I could have turned out a very different person. As it is, I quite like this reality, the one I'm currently living in. I quite like the way it's actually turned out. There's still always that "what if" that lingers in the back of my mind, though, and maybe there can never really be any way to get rid of it. All I can do is manage it the best that I can.

Tuesday Thoughts.

It's a Tuesday afternoon. It's raining outside, but somehow it's still a bit hot inside my room. Just thought I'd rattle out some thoughts as I wait for dinnertime.

I don't know how I'll ever be able to work in the corporate world. From what I've seen and heard, it doesn't seem like I'm going to enjoy that kind of life. Slaving away day after day for a paycheck, doing things no one is really passionate about, having mindless conversations with co-workers I'd never see outside of work - I'm not about that. I'm not about any of that.

The thing about having studied Actuarial Finance is that the only thing I can do, based on my qualifications, that does not involve sitting in an office somewhere making decisions on money that doesn't belong to me is probably to go into teaching. Which doesn't really sound all that bad, to be honest, since I actually do enjoy teaching.

Working as an academic, you'd presume, means I'll be working with intelligent, like-minded people, which means there'll be plenty of intellectual talk and discussion and rational approaches to decision-making and problem-solving. That's what I'd like to think, but, of course, the reality is never really how you like to think it is.

Wherever you go, there will always be drama. There will always be office politics. There will always be factions, and a certain element of us-against-them. Universities are filled with more educationally-qualified people than any other institution you can think of, and yet there's still no escaping issues that you think wouldn't be present among people of such stature. Intelligent people are still human beings, after all, and there's no way to fully eliminate the flaws that come with being human.

So there's really only way to avoid the problems that come with working with other people: working on your own. But that doesn't really fit with me either; I'm a pretty lazy person, and I don't think I have it within me to do anything without needing any kind of help or consultation. And what kind of work, if you hope to bring in a significant amount of income with someday, can really be done completely on your own, without needing to enlist the services of other people?

I guess when the time comes, I'll just have to accept it. I'll still have to get some kind of job someday, ideally one which provides me with more than just enough to pay the bills, and that need for money will overcome my need for avoiding negative human interaction. That's just how things are, and that's why anyone even bothers with whatever job they have to do. In fact, I'm quite privileged to have been able to avoid getting a job for so long, and I should be thankful for that.

Necessary.

In the months that have passed since I graduated from Manipal in April 2016, I've been possibly the most emotionally stable I've ever been. It was a period that I used to relax, to recover from the physical, mental and emotional exhaustion throughout my life as an undergraduate student. A lot of soul-searching was done, and I made happiness as my first priority. I made a conscious effort to stop caring so much about many things, and to stop working my mind any more than was necessary. My goal was to calm the storm in my head, as well as to take measures so as to keep it that way as much as possible.

It might have worked; then again, it might not have. Sure, it's almost ridiculous how calm I am most of the time these days, but that's not hard to do since I actively avoid conflict and other situations that could potentially get me going. The only emotional excursions I regularly undertake involve playing FIFA and following the football.

All good things come to an end, however, and it seems that this sheltered period is coming to a close. As much as I would love to, I can't stay in this protective bubble for the rest of my life. Too much has been invested into me, and it would be a waste if I don't make the most of my potential.

I don't actually feel bad for being so unproductive for so long. Plenty of people take time off, and for various durations. Sometimes you just need a break, and these things take as much time as they need to. Admittedly, mine probably took a bit longer than was necessary, but there are some circumstances that you just can't control.

My Master's program looks to finally be properly starting after being stuck in bureaucratic purgatory since October. I signed up to be a facilitator at a motivational camp for school students. I offered to help train my old university's debate team for an upcoming tournament. I'm beginning to give a damn about current issues and consume intellectual content again. It's safe to say that I've started crawling out of the cave I've been chilling in for almost a year.

I've learned that we human beings are not individuals, but merely components in the great machine that is society. We each have a place in this world, a role to fulfil, and all that we do to improve ourselves is merely just so that we can carry out our roles better, or even to move to a different one. And I really have no problem with that. Why else were we all put into this world with each other, instead of each getting our own? The reason the world is so messed up is because too many people choose to be selfish.

Was I choosing to be selfish by sheltering myself for ten months? Some might say so. I, however, see it as a necessary break I had to take for my long-term wellbeing. Even machines need to be serviced every now and then to ensure they continue to perform at their optimum levels.

Now it's time to get going, to use my freshness to take myself to a new level. It's never easy to step out of your comfort zone, but I, for one, am relishing it.

Growth.

I took a personality test yesterday (this one right here). A few friends on Facebook had already taken it and shared their results, and I was inspired to have a go myself. It was the first one I've taken in a long time.

Personality tests are, of course, supposed to evaluate your personality. People take them when applying for jobs, which is one of its practical purposes, but also to find out a bit more about themselves. The most accurate tests tend to measure more aspects of one's personality, and contain more questions.

I decided to take the test because I wanted to see how far I've come as a person since the last time I took one. Am I still the same person I was years ago? Have I changed in any way? I feel like I have changed a lot over the years; perhaps the test results would show me just how much.

I didn't share the results on Facebook, as I'm not too fond of people knowing too much about me - not that easily anyway. I'm not an open book, but I'm not under lock and seal either. If you want to see what's inside, all you have to do is turn the pages.

I didn't save the results anywhere else either. Maybe I should have, for future reference, but I didn't. Other personality tests will come along, I'm sure, but they won't be the same as this one. Scientifically speaking, to measure any development in my personality test results, the personality test taken should remain constant. I could always track this exact test down and take it again, but I don't see myself doing that years from now.

Measuring precisely how much you've changed over the years seems like an incredibly nerdy thing to do. I don't mean that as an insult; it's exactly what I might have done myself some years ago. However, the fact that I don't really feel the need to do such a thing shows that, yes, I really have changed. These days I care less about things like that. I feel different, and I can see that I'm different; therefore, I am different.

So, how did I do on the test? Well, I didn't save the results, and I'm not so much of a nerd anymore to memorize them in full, but my main takeaway from the results were that, well, they were pretty much what I expected.

My highest scores were for 'emotional stability' and 'complexity', and my lowest score was for 'gregariousness'. Like I said, pretty much what I expected.

I don't know in too much detail what my scores meant, as the premium report (which contained those details) cost money, so I just have to settle for interpreting them myself. Based on the assumption that a personality test made for the public should probably be easily understood by the public, the terms used for each of those personality aspects should mean exactly what they mean in English.

(If that last part made you go "well, duh", then you might not be familiar with academic writing...)

Hence, my high scores for 'emotional stability' and 'complexity' (88% for both) should mean that, well, I am emotionally stable, as well as a complex individual. And my low score for 'gregariousness' (44%; not really that low, actually) should mean that I have a low fondness for socializing.

(On a side note, what does it mean to be a complex individual? Someone difficult to understand? Someone who does things that are difficult to understand? So does that mean a non-complex individual is easily understood and does things easy to understand? I genuinely find it difficult to believe that there are people who are easy to understand. Everyone has a story.)

The fact that I wasn't at all surprised by my personality test results probably just means that I know myself quite well, and I guess that's a good thing. I know my strengths and weaknesses. I know my thresholds. I know what I can and can't do. How in the world could that not be a good thing?

Well, when you know yourself this well... things might get a bit boring. There's almost nothing left for you to learn about yourself. Nothing left to discover. You'll do something in a given situation, and you'll have done exactly what you expected yourself to do. You don't surprise yourself anymore.

I guess the only way to overcome that would be to change as a person. I don't mean a complete overhaul, of course. The change I'm talking about involves personal growth. That's what life is about, isn't it? Growth.

So here's to growing as a person. May the person that reads this post today not be the same person tomorrow... but a better one. Here's to your evolution.

Achievement.

I recently entered this short story-writing competition, in which the selected stories would be featured in an anthology that will be published a few months from now. The short stories they asked for were really short: 150 words or less.

I’m more of a longform writer (even when texting). The only times I’ve ever been concerned about word limits is when they include a maximum (which may be why I don't use Twitter), because I’m typically fairly certain that I’ll be able to make the minimum quite easily. It was thus a challenge for me to write an entire story in as many words as I usually put into one or two paragraphs without even noticing.

I looked online for inspiration, came up with a story idea, and put pen to paper (figuratively, of course – I typed it out). After I was done, I had one or two people look at it and then sent it to the publishing company that was organizing the competition. I had no idea if they would like my story, and especially not if they would like it enough to select it. They only wanted 100 stories, after all, and after the deadline passed the total number of entries was announced to be almost 1200. Three of those entries were mine, after I'd sent in two more stories some time after my first one. As it turned out, I needn’t have bothered with the latter two. I received an email yesterday, in which I was informed that my first story had made the final cut.

I was having my lunch out of a plastic container in the living room of my Kajang apartment when I saw the email. The winners were supposed to be announced on Sunday, so I hadn’t really prepared myself to receive the news. Finding out that my story had been selected out of over a thousand others to be featured in an actual published book filled me with raw joy and excitement, which manifested itself in the form of actual giddy squealing. I’m not a very reactive person, but my response to the email was probably just below ‘last-minute Arsenal winner’ on the excitement scale.

After checking the full list of selected stories that the publisher had helpfully attached, I was brought back down to Earth after finding out that a number of people had had multiple stories selected, including at least one actual published author. It made me realize that, if I were to pursue a career as a professional writer, there was a lot of competition out there, even in this country. Getting published in an anthology of 150-word stories is just the first step.

Nevertheless, it’s still probably my most satisfying achievement in life thus far. I’m not even exaggerating; my academic results, at best, have only filled me with more relief than the satisfaction of a job well done. Who would have ever thought that the shortest piece of work I’d ever done would turn out to be the one I’m most happy with?

I’m honestly thankful that my story was selected. Perhaps the reason why it made me happier than, say, my academic achievements is because I had no way of knowing if my story would make the cut. I’m thankful for what I’ve gotten academically as well, of course, but grades are far more objective than a story selection process.

Having said all that, ranking your life achievements is, on the surface, a futile and pointless exercise, but I like to think that it says something about who you are. It says something about what means the most to you. It says something about what you really value in life.

Aside from this storywriting thing, my other favorite achievement was playing football for my school back in Form 5. It was only district level, yes, and we did only win one match, but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Those are memories that I’ll hold close to me for as long as my brain allows me to, regardless of how insignificant they may seem to other people.

I’m still only 22 years old (23 this year…), so in theory I still have a long way to go, still have plenty of things to potentially accomplish. I’m thankful for everything I’ve been given, and hopefully there’s still more to come.

Escape.

So it’s 2017.

When I was younger, I used to stay up until midnight with my siblings to catch the New Year fireworks show at KLCC. We never actually went there, of course, and neither did we ever need to; we could see the twin towers quite clearly from our house.

As time went on, we grew older and just couldn’t be bothered. This year we (most of us, anyway) watched football on TV instead of catching any celebrations. I guess when you’ve seen one fireworks show, you’ve seen them all.

People change over time, as does the way they see things. Some people see the turn of the year as an opportunity to celebrate, while others see it as just another arbitrary moment in time, just as insignificant a moment as any other. The latter probably don’t get invited to too many parties.

I’ve no problem with people wanting to celebrate things. Life is just terrible most of the time, and people like to take any chance they get to enjoy themselves. People need to escape.

Last year was pretty much a year of escape for me, and yes, that includes my internship. I may have mentioned this before on this blog, but the three years I’d had in Manipal felt like ten. I needed an escape from all that, and I got it. Granted, it ended up being a lot longer than I originally intended, but I guess there’s a reason for that.

Who knows what this year will hold for me, but I expect (and actually hope for) much of my time to be filled with my Master’s work. There’ll be a lot of reading, writing, presenting, and all sorts of other stuff. My supervisor tells me that I might be presenting at a conference in June or July somewhere in either Langkawi or Penang, which I’ll admit does sound exciting.

My mother told me that this Master’s program, and I suppose education in general, isn’t so much about getting the qualification at the end of it – it’s more to do with your journey and growth as a person. And I really agree with that. I expect to be yet another version of myself a couple of months down the road.

I’ve lost count of how many times last year I found myself realizing that I didn’t know myself anymore. I’ve been told that this was a good thing, because it meant that I was changing and developing as a person.

In the first few months of 2016, I found myself writing and publishing stuff in my university’s e-newsletter on topics that were…well, matters of the heart. You know, stuff you might hear in motivational talks. Now I don’t even read about those things anymore, much less write about them. I guess I’m just not interested in these topics anymore, or at least not right now. I might start getting hooked on them again once things start getting much harder than they are at the moment. Who knows.

The version of me that I am right now is probably the most relaxed me there’s ever been, and that probably has to do with the fact that I don’t have any urgent need to not be relaxed right now. I haven’t properly started with my research (which will be stressful), I don’t really read the news (which, these days, can be quite stressful), and I avoid all forms of negativity like the plague. I've also stopped caring (temporarily or otherwise) about a lot of things I used to care about. It's a lot easier to not get stressed about something if you don't care about it.

I’m in my own bubble of positivity at the moment. I know I can’t stay here for too long, but I’m making the most of it while I still can. I'll be out of here soon, don't you worry.