The Next Step.

I am now officially a graduate of Nirwana College's Foundation in Science program. Have been since Thursday, actually, but haven't been compelled to write about it up till now.

Honestly speaking, I thoroughly enjoyed my two semesters there. Made friends with people I never thought I'd never be friends with, did things I never thought I'd do, and generally made huge leaps and bounds in terms of my social and intellectual development. I find myself hardly being able to believe that my eight months at Nirwana are actually somewhat comparable to my two years in Rembau in that aspect.

So what does one usually do after he's graduated from his Pre-U studies? I can't exactly say, but one thing's for sure - I'm not gonna just sit around kicking my heels. I'd had enough of that sort of thing during the post-SPM days.

I guess I'm looking towards my Bachelor's Degree next, and to get that over with as soon as possible, too. Of course, my primary choice to further my studies in Actuarial Science would be at Indonesia's Bandung Institute of Technology (ITB), as that was the whole reason I got into Nirwana in the first place.

However, my initial desires of earning an overseas degree have somewhat mellowed in these past few months. Back then, the allure of studying on foreign soil looked to be a novelty, something highly coveted by recent SPM graduates like myself. I would have agreed to go anywhere, just as long as I could do my Actuarial Science degree somewhere that wasn't in Malaysia.

I was at the education fair earlier today, and naturally, my mother made me listen to some of the Actuarial Science degree programs offered by the various institutions there. I didn't really feel particularly attracted to any of them, except for the last one we went to.

Manipal International University (currently in Kelana Jaya, but they're relocating to Nilai in February next year) was apparently offering a new-ish course called Actuarial Finance. It piqued my interest, mostly because it differed from the original Actuarial Science by being more finance-centered, which was the route I'd planned on eventually taking anyway. 

Another difference is that this course only requires three years to complete, one less than the one I'd had my eye on at ITB. Also, with it being shorter and conducted entirely on Malaysian territory, it's considerably cheaper.

Well, nothing's finalized yet, but Manipal is definitely an option. I'll be off to Bandung on January 4th (which happens to be on the same day that my Foundation results will be released) to help me decide once and for all if ITB is what I really need. If not, then as of January 15th 2013, call me a proud pioneer* of Manipal International University, Nilai.

*Yes, the parallels with Rembau are not lost on me.

Hat-Trick (...well, almost).

In football, when a player scores three goals in a single game, his feat is known as a hat-trick (except in Holland, where all three goals must be scored in a single 45-minute half). Hence, the term 'hat-trick' may also be used to describe a triple achievement in other fields.

I nearly had a hat-trick of the performing arts this semester - singing, dancing and acting. However, in an earlier post I mentioned that I would not be acting in the class drama, so I suppose this particular hat-trick  just about slipped out of my grasp, and realistically, may never be achieved. 

The Singing

For our Chemistry presentation this semester, our lecturer asked each of the six groups the class was divided into to perform a song describing the various chemical reactions of carbon compounds. It was something none of us had ever done before, so naturally my classmates were very excited by the idea.

Initially, I was less than thrilled - I'm not one to sing in public. I'd much prefer it if we did a regular presentation, just like everyone else.

Eventually, however, the idea of a musical presentation started to embed itself into my head. It seemed like a fun and easy way to memorize what was, admittedly, a large and complicated chapter in the syllabus. My group was given Alkenes as our topic, and I took it upon myself to write the lyrics for our song, based on 'Starlight' by the British rock band Muse.

I'd finished writing the lyrics in the same week that the topic was given. However, since we had difficulties in finding time to rehearse, our performance ended up being much less elaborate than the other ones (notable gimmicks from our fellow classmates included an excellent video and an intricate dance routine).

The lecturer didn't mind, though. The most important thing was that the message got across, and ours certainly did. I think I might find myself singing the Alkene Song during my Chemistry final if I somehow manage to forget what Markovnikov's Rule is.

A side effect of the performance, however, is that I somehow managed to remove the lyrics to the original song from my brain. This wouldn't be much of a problem, if it weren't for the fact that Starlight is one of my favorites.

The Dancing

The dancing was never supposed to have happened in the first place.

For our Malaysian Studies presentation, we were divided into groups. Each group was to play a political party from a certain area (kampung, rubber estate, etc.) and present their propaganda in front of the class, attempting to garner as many votes as possible in order to win the 'election'.

By the time the final two groups (including mine) had to do their presentations, it was already recess. So thus, the lecturer decided to postpone it to the next week. 

It was not to be. He didn't enter class for the next few weeks, so by the time he finally did, he'd already forgotten all about it.

Midway through that class, however, it suddenly hit him - ten of us were still yet to do our presentations. He then said that since the next class was to be our last, a political debate would probably be too dull for the occasion. Instead, he proposed that we perform some traditional dances.

Thinking he was only fooling around (and boy, did he do that a lot), we went along with it. Needless to say, my classmates and I were somewhat surprised to find that he was actually being serious about the whole thing. The two groups would have to join together and perform different traditional dances in pairs.

Once again, my groupmates and I found it difficult to rehearse. Our first rehearsal was actually carried out on the afternoon before the presentation was due. Our only other rehearsal was right before the Malaysian Studies class started.

So yeah, I ended up having to do an Indian dance - Tamil, I believe it was. The dance was fast, energetic and intricate. I now have a newly-found respect for dancers - it's harder than it looks. And even more so for a guy who'd usually never be caught dancing in public (or even in private) such as myself.

Judging by the cheers coming from the mostly-Indian audience, I'd say I did pretty well for someone with zero experience in traditional Indian dance, and who'd only learnt the steps less than 12 hours prior to the performance. But then again, the crowd's reaction may just have been because they assumed that I 'wasn't the type'.

The Drama

I wrote about the drama the other day (also, I've already provided the link to that post early on in this one). In case you can't remember or are too lazy to look it up, here's a brief background.

I was a co-scriptwriter for our play, Animal Farm. Due to my (thankfully) unconvincing acting skills, I was given a behind-the-scenes role as the sound guy (or sound engineer, as our lecturer once put it).

So that's that. Many of us had high hopes for this drama, but the end product wasn't quite how we'd pictured it. In fact, it wasn't at all how I'd pictured it to turn out whilst reading the book and writing the script.

The original Animal Farm was supposed to be a serious allegory on the Russian Revolution, with its characters based on such historical figures as Karl Marx and Joseph Stalin. In the end, the directors cut out so much of the script that I and my co-writer had painstakingly put together that the play only just about stuck to the actual storyline.

I don't blame the directors for doing so, really. It was pretty much forced upon them, due to several reasons.

Firstly, the seriousness of the original content was fairly unsuitable for everyone involved. Most of the actors were either not mature enough to 'get' the whole message, or they just couldn't understand half the words that Orwell used.

Secondly, time constraints that were amplified by a lack of co-operation. We only had about a month or two to prepare for the play, and many of us would turn up late for practice every single time. Hence, we didn't have enough time to stick to the entire script, so that necessitated much of the script-tweaking.

In fact, we even had a few musical numbers thrown in as well. They certainly helped to liven up the atmosphere of the play, and, I have to admit, they made it a bit more interesting to those who were watching. Having someone play live acoustic guitar helped, too. Not sure what George Orwell would have made of all the disfigurations that had been made, but it's just as well that he died over 60 years ago.

Anyway, I suppose the play could be considered a success. Sure, there were a few forgotten lines here and there, which led to a fair bit of confusion. Sure, some of the actors should probably stay off the stage for the next play that comes along. And sure, some of my sound effects were mistimed. But our lecturer seemed happy enough to give us full marks for it, much of it due to the tremendous effort we'd put in.

*****

So that's what I've been doing here in Nirwana for this past semester, aside from the studying and the hardly memorable Prom Night a few months back.

And yeah, I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't enjoyed myself. But if I could choose to do it all again, the answer would be a definite, resounding NO. I don't need to tarnish those memories with more of the same - they'd lose their novelty.

I guess I can safely assume that most of my friends who are currently doing Foundation in Science, A-Levels and other Pre-U courses at other institutions probably won't get the chance to do even one of the above things throughout their respective courses, let alone all three.

Well, all that's left now is the finals. Then it's farewell, Nirwana. And hello, Bandung.

Le Tour de LRT.

I spent the past few days thinking that I was only getting two days off next week: Tuesday (Deepavali) and Thursday (Awal Muharram). Then, right at the end of my last class yesterday, word went out that my fellow FIS-mates and I were getting the whole week off after all, just like everyone else. Obviously, I wasn't about to look this particular gift horse in the mouth. I went home that day in a mood that was possibly brighter than anything I'd been feeling for the rest of the week.

Except maybe that rush when I got full marks for my Biology test. 

So, what did I do to kickstart the holidays? I went with my brother on a little journey I called 'Le Tour de LRT'. 

It might not have been the first time anyone's done it, but I've never heard of anyone doing it before. So I'll just consider it to be one of those random ideas that spontaneously pop up in my head from time to time, and not something I'd gotten from an outside source.

The plan was to embark on a tour of three of the main railway lines in Malaysia: Putra, Star and Monorail. We'd go from end to end on each of those lines, without getting off, except for interchanges and emergencies.

So we set off at about 9.30 from the Ampang station, which was the first station of the Star line. The fact that it wasn't too far away from where we lived made it all the easier for us.

We returned after four hours, having gone around KL, as well as the far-off reaches of Kelana Jaya, Gombak and Sri Petaling. 

The whole tour ended up costing RM 7.60. The initial theory was, since we'd be returning to the exact same station where we set off from, it wouldn't cost us a single cent. This part of the plan was foiled at the end of the Monorail line at KL Sentral, where there was no direct interchange to the Putra Line.

We concluded that, for sightseeing purposes, the Monorail was the best. It took us through the heart of the big city, and the design of its coaches made for an excellent view.

Sticking with the same aspect, the dullest was the Putra line. Sure, there were a couple of landmarks along the way (Menara TM, The Gardens@Midvalley) but all we saw were mostly housing areas. There were even parts of the route where the track went underground, so there was even less to see. Yaaawwwn. The Putra line was clearly not designed for tourists. 

So that's one thing off my bucket list - or at least it would be, if I had one. Now, back to the mundanity of holiday life.

Intersections.

"...[Each story] affects the other and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one."

- Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven

I recently read the book from which the above quote was taken. It's been a while since I've read a good book, and by gum, this book was a good one.

Now, I won't spoil the story for those of you who haven't read it yet, but it basically goes like this:

The story is about an old man who dies in a work-related accident and goes to heaven. There, he is met by five people from his past who, regardless of whether he knows them or not, have affected his life in some way or another. Their purpose is to explain to him the events that had occurred in his life, for only when one understands, can he truly find peace (or something like that).

Besides being a fantastic read, the book also made me think about a couple of things.

Firstly, that our supposedly important lives are really just insignificant specks in the grander scale of the universe. 

We all have our own stories. Stories that are interwoven with the stories of many others - friends, family, acquaintances, strangers. Anything, and everything we do affects other people in one way or another. Just as anything, and everything other people do could affect us. Do unto others what you want others to do unto you, as the saying goes. There's no harm in being a little selfless sometimes.

Secondly, everything happens for a reason.

Muslims believe in the concept of hikmah (wisdom). Everything that happens has its own hikmah, a reason why God made it so. We must not rue unfortunate mishaps, or bad decisions. No amount of regret can change what has already been done. The right thing to do would be to look for the positives and learn from them. Understand that every cloud has a silver lining. To quote another line from the book:

"But all endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time."

******

I visited the Anatomy Museum at the HUKM Kuala Lumpur campus with my collegemates earlier today. Looking past the arguably dull curator-slash-tour guide, as well as the cancelled cadaver dissection demonstration, it was alright.

There were human body parts everywhere. Preserved, of course, in 10% formalin (or something). From the relatively ordinary hands and feet to the more macabre cross-sectioned human heads (one of the heads on display apparently belonged to a certain Botak Chin, although we had to guess for ourselves which one it was) and a baby still attached to its placenta, there was plenty to see. Heck, there was even a case containing male genitals which, naturally, induced a few childish giggles.

I wondered where all these body parts had come from. How the university had managed to acquire them. Who they had belonged to. If their previous masters had anticipated that their body parts would end up being indefinitely on display in front of many, many curious observers (none of the specimens were from the 90's onwards).

Looks like paths can still cross, even in death. I'd never expected to look upon the lifeless face of a notorious gangster, even if it had been partially skinned to reveal its insides, or cut in half. And what about those others? A dead pair of semi-formed twins - who would they have been had they tasted life? A pair of lungs - what air had they once breathed? A brain - what thoughts had once flitted about through its cells?

So many questions, and yet no chance of ever getting an answer. All just a part of the complex mystery that we call life.

Plays and Players.

Recently, my Foundation in Science (FIS) class at Nirwana started rehearsals for our Animal Farm play, based on the book of the same name. Obviously, it's not something we'd do on our own accord - the play doubles as our presentation for English class.

For those of you unfamiliar with the story, it's basically about a group of animals who rise up against their farm's abusive owner and end up running the farm themselves. Childish, you say? Not quite - it's an allegory of the Russian Revolution. Plus, it was written by George Orwell; the guy who wrote Nineteen Eighty-Four. Never heard of him or the book? Shame on you. Look it up.

Anyway, I don't have any speaking parts in said play. Heck, I don't even have any acting parts neither. As co-chief scriptwriter I figured that I wouldn't be required to act - turns out I was wrong. I had to go through the screening process just like everyone else.

It just so happened that I wasn't in the best of moods at the time. I hardly put in any kind of spirit or enthusiasm into my audition, and after that was done, the directors decided that I should be the guy in charge of sound and music instead. I'm guessing that my acting was so poor that they figured that I should be kept as far away from the acting as possible. 

I'm not exactly gutted about it. In fact, I actually feel kinda happy about the whole thing. Being the sound guy is the best role I could have hoped for. I don't really have a whole lot to do, and whatever I do have to do isn't really that hard or burdening. They got another guy from the other FIS class to help out as well, so that's halved my already meagre workload.

The best part is that I don't have to skip lunch. You see, the rehearsals are held every day during the lunch break (1.30 - 2.30), as well as during English class. While everyone else has to stay back to act (and stuff), I'm just happily taking my time, making the most of my hour off. And since my regular lunch buddies are busy with Animal Farm, I find myself having lunch alone even more these days. While I don't mind eating with my friends, I do appreciate the alone time. Sometimes I just need time to cool off.

I'm not entirely sure about when we'll have to present the play to our lecturers, possibly sometime in mid-November. In any case, we don't have a lot of time. I'm not really expecting the show to be a success of Broadways-sized proportions, but I'm hoping it'll at least be presentable - especially since the FIS students who'd come before us had also presented the same exact play earlier in the year. Our version of Animal Farm would have to at least have something to set it apart from theirs, or the lecturers would get bored.

Hard work + Teamwork = Masterpiece.

I'd done plays before, back in the day - one I wrote for a teacher's farewell ceremony in Rembau comes to mind. If memory serves, we'd been given even less time to prepare for that one. Despite the time constraints, we still managed to put on a good show when the time came. Granted, the actors had natural talent, and the play was based on actual events - but the point remains. If you put in the effort, you'll get the results. You reap what you sow, and all that.

Miracles happen. And I believe in miracles. 

The Ten-Year Plan.

An old adage in football goes, "If you don't shoot, you don't score."

This, of course, rings true in life, as well. If you want something, you'll have to go get it. If you don't try, you don't succeed. Simple as that.

It's also been said that you should always aim for the heavens, for if you fail you can at least reach the stars.

Basically, it means that you should always set the highest possible target for yourself in any given venture. If you somehow manage to reach it, then great. If not, well you did your best, and in all likelihood you'd have done pretty well anyway.

It's a tactic commonly used in schools, like the one I went to. The teachers told us (the entire 196-strong batch) to aim for the ultimate goal - straight A+ for SPM. They even convinced us that we really were capable of doing it. Heck, even I was convinced, and I consider myself to be a pessimistic, cynical realist. 

Of course, looking back on what eventually transpired, it struck me that 196 people out of 196 getting straight A+ for their SPM examinations was never really a realistic target. But it did seem to work, with many of us eventually receiving scholarships and sponsorships, so we'll leave it at that.

Anyway, I decided that if it worked back then, who's to say it's not going to work now? Setting high, unrealistic targets instills a kind of belief within you, driving you on to do the seemingly impossible. It motivates you to silence the critics, the ones who didn't believe you had it in you - and sometimes, the loudest voice among them comes from yourself.

Therefore, I have formulated a ten-year plan for myself. I probably won't get there (well, at least not in ten years, anyway), but you can bet I'll do whatever I can in my power to do so.

Here it goes. In ten years' time, I shall:

• Work as a highly-paid actuary at a leading firm, raking in a five-figure salary every month.
• Live in my own place.
• Be married, with a kid or two.
• Own an Audi, as well as a Volkswagen.

Ambitious? Yes. Unrealistic? Definitely. But impossible?

I'll get back to you in ten years.

Short Story #2.

Note: The following story is based on the video game Slender. Images courtesy of deviantART user Jailboticus.

It was dark, very dark. It made no difference to Josh whether his eyes were opened or not, as he could see nothing. He had no idea where he was, or how he had gotten there. He knew even less about why he seemed to be lying on his back.

Josh tried to make sense of his surroundings. He felt a slight breeze on his skin.  His fingers touched grass and earth. The scent of chlorophyll crept into his nostrils. Then, the moon came out from behind a cloud and illuminated the area, confirming his suspicions that he was in some kind of forest. One he had never seen before.

The moon then vanished just as suddenly as it had first appeared. It was then that Josh first noticed that he had some sort of flashlight in his pocket. He took it out and turned it on. It was long, black and thin – somewhat resembling the ones used by police officers. If only it were as bright.

In its dim light, Josh noticed a piece of paper attached to the side of the flashlight by some transparent tape. He removed and unfolded it to reveal instructions crudely written in black ink: Find all eight pages.

He had no idea what this meant, but he had a hunch that following the instructions would somehow provide him with answers. Josh started walking and prayed that the batteries in his flashlight wouldn’t go out.

As he walked along the forest path, Josh noticed how quiet the forest was. He could hear nothing but his own footsteps trudging along the grass and dirt. Where was all the wildlife? The frogs, the crickets, the birds – they were strangely quiet. That is, if they were even there. The silence was unnerving, and Josh felt a tingle up his spine. Even a wolf’s howl would have been welcome at this point.

Josh soon came across a clearing, and in its middle was an old, rust-colored silo. It looked as if it had been abandoned for years. As baffling as it was that there was an old, abandoned silo in the middle of a forest that did not appear to have any inhabitants, Josh found the strangest part of all to be that there weren’t any creeper plants growing all over it. Perhaps it wasn't as old and abandoned as he'd thought?

He went over to take a closer look at the unusually smooth surface. Perhaps there was some sort of chemical on the walls that prevented new life from forming on them? He walked around the cylindrical structure, occasionally swiping its surface with his finger to check for foreign substances.

His finger found nothing but rust. However, his eyes spotted something else in the faint light – a piece of paper stuck to the silo wall, which upon closer inspection appeared to be some form of Sticky Note. It was one of the eight pages, Josh realized. He shone his flashlight over it to make out what was written on it. To his horror, written in black ink and in the same crude fashion as the note on his flashlight were the words, “HELP ME”.

Josh nearly dropped the page in shock. His heart pounded against his chest, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. There was something out there. And someone had been running from it.

He quickened his pace now. He needed to find those pages, and fast. He kept looking over his shoulder, as he now had the dreadful feeling that he was being followed.

Josh came across more clearings with strange landmarks - large rocks the size of houses, an old truck, and an abandoned shack among others. At each of these locations he found a single page, each containing messages like “FOLLOWS” and “LEAVE ME ALONE”. And every time he found a page, he could feel the temperature drop, as if to show that whatever was chasing him was getting closer.

Only one page remained, as Josh came to a collection of large oil tanks. His breathing was heavy now from running. He pushed himself on, and soon found the final page on the side of a tank. It read “DON'T LOOK...OR IT TAKES YOU”. Josh gulped.

He had finally done it. He had collected all eight pages. But now what?

Then Josh saw it – a tall, slender figure with white skin and abnormally long arms. It also appeared to be wearing a black suit – the kind people wear at funerals.

Without thinking, Josh ran. Or at least he tried to. His feet seemed to be glued to the floor. He could only stand there, horrified, as the figure moved ever closer – seemingly gliding across the forest floor. Josh realized that it had no face on its smooth, oval-shaped head.

Tentacles sprang out from the figure’s back and wrapped themselves around Josh. They pulled him towards their master, slowly, as if to amplify the terror that Josh felt at that moment. And the silence of the forest was finally broken – by a chilling, piercing scream.

Raya Musings.

Sunday, 19th August 2012 marked the first day of the month of Syawal in the Islamic calendar, namely 'Aidilfitri, or Hari Raya. Here in Malaysia, Malay Muslims take this time to journey to their respective hometowns, in a phenomenon of mass migration that is commonly known as 'balik kampung'.

This, however, does not apply to me. My grandparents on both my parents' sides live right nearby, so visiting them on Raya isn't really as meaningful as it should be. The only difference is, there are more people around. Oh, and more food.

I go on Facebook and I see people posting Raya wishes and Raya photos. Typical, I'd presume, even though I've only been on Facebook for several months. This great deluge of family photos, brightly-colored clothes and cute toddlers only happens once a year, and I think it's a refreshing change from the usual dross. People are spending time and enjoying themselves with the people who matter the most - family.

And now I'd like to take the time to rant, specifically about the Raya wishes. For those unfamiliar with these things, they usually go along the lines of:

"Selamat Hari Raya, maaf zahir batin!"

For the past few days I've received text messages with similar-sounding Raya wishes, all worded in such a way that makes it obvious that the message wasn't really personal, but had simply been one that had (presumably) been forwarded to everyone in the sender's contact list.

The last part of the above message loosely translates as "Forgive me for any wrongdoings I may or may not have committed, physically or mentally." So basically it's an apology, and yet it doesn't really feel like one.

I believe apologies should be personal, and not reduced to mere cliched catchphrases that are kept away in a metaphorical box and only taken out once a year. And in any case, why should one wait until 'Aidilfitri to say they're sorry? If you know you've done something wrong, then why not apologize straightaway? And if you haven't done anything wrong (or at least that's what you think) then why would an apology be necessary?

*****

Hari Raya pretty much overshadowed the fact that the new season of the Premier League started last weekend. Plenty of goals in that time, and I just had to be watching the one and only goalless match. Well, nothing I can do about that.

Anyway, before I end this post I'd just like to share this video, made by some Malaysian students at Vanderbilt University, Tennessee, who couldn't make it home for Raya as it coincided with the first day of classes there. Hopefully I'll be able to make one of these someday.

P.S. Look out for my friend Akmal in the video. He's the guy in the green shirt, and the pink baju Melayu at the end.

People Inspire People.

Oscar Pistorius. Image courtesy of wjla.com.

If one were to go around looking for inspiration these days, they probably wouldn't have to look much further than the Olympics. From 15-year-old Katie Ledecky winning gold, to Usain Bolt becoming the first man to retain both the 100m and 200m sprint titles, and amputee sprinter Oscar Pistorius making the 4x400m sprint final - the list goes on.

However wonderful these and many other stories from the 2012 Olympics may be, I recently found inspiration from a rather different source.

On Thursday, my Foundation in Science (FIS) April Intake class had an English class, as we usually did. However, this one was different. Our juniors, the FIS June Intake had to deliver their presentations for their own English class, so our two classes merged. We, the April Intake would serve as their audience. Of course, we had no problem with this as (a) it meant no studying and (b) they had been the audience for our own English presentation during our first semester.

As it turned out, a third class would be joining in as well, also serving as audience members - the Certificate in English (CIE) international students. These guys came from such countries as Brazil, Nigeria, Pakistan and even Myanmar.

So anyway, the presentations soon began. To be honest, not a single one of them really caught my eye. The topics were dull, the presenters had neither charisma nor confidence. Sure, there were a few exceptions – some did appear to know what they were actually doing – but even then they failed to impress me, and dare I say the watching lecturers as well.

But then one Indian kid, who appeared to be around my age, stepped up. Just like most of his classmates, he had a lot to learn about presenting. What really set him apart from the others, though, was his topic – terrorism.

He then started talking (mumbling?) about what terrorism was, what kind of activities were considered as terrorism, and of course, the various terrorist organizations. The moment I saw the words Al-Qaeda and Osama bin Laden on the screen, I knew there was bound to be some controversy. His presentation went by mostly without incident, but nobody foresaw what would happen afterwards.

Right at the end, during the so-called Q & A session, the Pakistani from the CIE class stood up. He then proceeded to give a speech about how not all Muslims were terrorists and how the Western media manipulated information to fit their own agendas. He also said something about how his people (Pakistan is where Bin Laden was allegedly killed) were working hard all over the world, although I can’t remember how that was related to the main part of the speech. But still, it was a good speech. He was applauded by the whole room when he was done.

I was awestruck. That was quite frankly the best speech I’d heard all day. I was amazed by the man’s guts to stand up and defend Islam just like that, especially since I knew I couldn’t have done it myself. The whole suddenness of the speech made it seem even more amazing.

I could have cried. It seemed as if the poor kid presenting the topic might have, though. Of course he hadn’t meant to call all Muslims terrorists, and perhaps the Pakistani might have overreacted. The kid did apologize to him afterwards.

Anyway, the short speech made me think about a few things. First was that people were being cruelly killed and tortured all over the world, and a large number of people were unaware of this due to the way the media manipulates and twists the truth. Sure, a man who blows himself up in an American subway is called a terrorist, but there’s nothing wrong with certain global superpowers going to war with Middle Eastern third-world countries? Come on.

Also, I realized that it was kinda true that Pakistanis were working hard all over the world (In 2009, around 600 000 Pakistanis went to work abroad). These people leave their families to work in far-off countries and for me, this just shows their admirable work ethic. Here in Malaysia, we Malays are generally much less hardworking, as we hold ‘special rights’ in this country. Well, what happens when those special rights are abolished? What then? Hmm.

*****

When I think about it, I would probably have never seen anything like the Pakistani's speech had I gone to  KMS or UiTM. It seems to me that enrolling in a public institution, where Malays are the dominant race, would be like going to an SBP all over again - quite frankly a dream world. On the other hand, my time at Nirwana has exposed me to many facets of life - cold, hard truths, if I may - that I might never have experienced in an IPTA. As time goes on, my choice of Nirwana seems to become increasingly more justified.

I'm not saying there's anything wrong with public institutions. Everything has its pros and cons. I'm just taking everything in my stride, looking on the bright side every time. God knows what's best for each of us, and I'm just going with the flow.

Going for the Gold.

I clearly haven't written anything in this blog for a while. However, I won't resort to the cliche of calling this blog 'dusty', 'full of cobwebs', or things like that. Yes, such phrases are only meant to have figurative meanings rather than literal, but I am a realist and prefer not to call a virtual collection of thoughts and experiences things that it is not.

Okay, rant over.

So anyway, my second semester at Nirwana College recently kicked off, as did the holy month of Ramadhan. One thing these two have in common is that both haven't exactly been particularly interesting or eventful for me. But these are still early days, and hopefully things will get fired up pretty soon. My results for my first semester are due to be released later this week, and maybe that could be just the thing I need to get going.

Also, the London 2012 Summer Olympics started a few days ago, on the 27th. I didn't watch the opening ceremony live on TV, so I looked it up on Youtube, where I viewed it in bits and pieces. It was fairly spectacular, but with humans being humans, there were more than a few people on the internet complaining about how the opening ceremony of the Beijing 2008 Olympics was better. Well, I didn't catch the Beijing opening ceremony, so I can't really say too much about the matter. But I'm pretty sure Beijing didn't have the evergreen comedic genius that is Rowan Atkinson.

Comedy is a funny thing, and I don't just mean that in the obvious sense.

What some people find to be funny, others don't. This is just one of the facts of life that everyone seems to take for granted and, as far as I know, hasn't been explained by science.

This is why it's hard to be a comedian. It's hard to make everyone laugh. And yet, here is a middle-aged man playing a piano, making millions of people all over the world cachinnate without even saying a word. What's more remarkable is that he's been doing this sort of thing for years. That, my friends, is pure ability. And all those years' practice being a comedian helps, too.

And that's what the Olympics is supposed to be about - ability and hard work. Only the best of the best, the ones who put in the most effort, can win the gold, and that's how it should be. The Olympics teaches us that only the strongest, toughest and most persistent deserve to be champions. Values such as these we should be imparting into our own lives.

That being said, I should probably take my own advice and strive for excellence during this second semester. All those extra minutes freed up by not having to go for lunch this Ramadhan I should be putting to good use, instead of wasting them playing computer games.

Four-flats are definitely a possibility. Only through hard work can they be an inevitability.

Holiday Mode.

"A vacation is having nothing to do and all day to do it in."

- Robert Orben

On the 30th of April 2012, I went for the first day of my Foundation in Science course at Nirwana College. On the 11th of July 2012, I sat for the final paper of my final exam for the semester. As of right now, I am currently enjoying my much-appreciated semester break before the second (and final) semester begins next Monday.

My classmates and I had been given the week before the exams off, a so-called 'study break'. Of course, being me, I had already gone into 'holiday mode' before the study break had even started. The three-day exam was, in my mind, merely an inconvenience that was interfering with my vacation. I barely studied throughout the week, and only really pushed myself on the night before the exam was due to begin.

After I had finished my last paper, I left the college as soon as I could. This was an attempt to make myself feel happy at the fact that I was finally free from the shackles of any sort of formal education for the next eleven days. However, my efforts were futile - I was already on holiday mode, and I was already as happy as I could get.

Back in my school days, I had never really liked school holidays. I would much rather go to school where I could meet my friends, play football and basically have something to keep myself busy with. At home, on the other hand; boredom, chores and often-annoying siblings would await. It was clear to me which place was the more enjoyable one.

My perception towards holidays have changed now that I've left school. I definitely prefer the holidays more. I have more freedom now, as well as a driver's license. Boredom is still inescapable, but no longer in abundance. Plus, now that I don't see my school friends every day anymore, going to visit them will be more meaningful.

As for college, well, it quite simply can't hold a candle to school in terms of enjoyment. You can't even afford to not do your homework anymore. 'Nuff said.

So, what have I been doing since my semester break started? Apart from sleeping, watching TV and surfing the Internet, I also managed to spend the weekend in Subang Jaya.

Casa Subang. Image coutesy of the Internet.

On Saturday afternoon, I drove myself in my rusty, 15-year-old Iswara to Subang Jaya to meet a couple of friends there. Being students at Taylor's College, Subang campus, they were staying at the grandly-named Casa Subang. I'd already checked out the location on Google Maps earlier, but that still didn't stop me from getting lost in the area's unfamiliar streets. I did get there eventually, of course.

The apartments units were, as expected, economical (read: small). There were maybe about seven students per unit, and not necessarily ones from the same course or batch neither. Well, at least they were all the same gender.

I spent most of Saturday night out on the road. Driving on unfamiliar streets at night, guided only by signboards, phone-relayed instructions and a guy in the passenger seat who only knows the area slightly more than you do is never easy. It just so happened that Saturday night coincided with the MTV World Stage concert-thingy at Sunway Lagoon, which just happened to be in the Subang area. That did not help the traffic flow. Nevertheless, it still turned out to be an enjoyable night. My friends and I finally got back to the Casa at one in the morning.

Sunday was highlighted by an outing to Sunway Pyramid, where my friends and I watched The Amazing Spiderman (which was pretty amazing, might I add), followed by pizza for lunch. After all that was done, it was finally time to go home. We said our goodbyes and I set off on what I expected to be a long drive home.

The drive turned out to be pretty short, in the end. There was considerably less traffic on the road than I had expected for a Sunday afternoon.

So, what now for the rest of the week? Well, I have two or three more road trips planned out, so this semester break promises to be one of the more eventful holidays I've had in a while. Anything is better than lazing around like a sloth all day, I suppose. At least when the new semester starts, I won't have to look back on my holidays in regret.

Respect.

Each generation imagines itself to be more intelligent than the one that came before it, and wiser than the one that comes after it.

- George Orwell

I stumbled upon this quote while visiting the Wikiquote homepage today, and I couldn't help but notice how true this was, especially after finding out that the man who said it had died in 1950. This statement is one for the ages - it has always been true, and perhaps always will be. Unfortunately.

Indeed, having spent time in a boarding school I know quite a bit about how applicable Orwell's observation is in real life. Juniors rebel against their seniors, while said seniors try to put the juniors in their place. These kind of situations are very common, and arise in hostels all over the world.

However, being an open-minded person who'd spent three years in a regular secondary school, I never really saw the point of it all. Not at first, anyway. I mean, back at Bukit Indah it didn't matter how old you were and which Form you were in, everyone was treated equally and talked to in the same way. And suddenly, on my first day in Rembau the younger kids called me 'Abang'. It was something that took some getting used to.

It took me a while to realize that, socially, things were going to be different. It seemed that, by virtue of being born a few years earlier, my batchmates and I were the kings of the hostel. The juniors would do our every bidding without question. It was as if we had some divine right to order the younger ones around. This was the way it was supposed to be, as I was told by friends who had lived in hostels before. They had once been slaves to their own seniors, and now they were enjoying their new positions in the social hierarchy. This new system was one that taught all those who came through it that in life, you have to start at the very bottom before you can make it to the top.

Of course, every system has its rebels. As did ours. They simply did not understand the system, the very same one that is, and has always been in practice in pretty much every single boarding school in the country, maybe even the whole world. They disobeyed orders, mocked their seniors, acted with disrespect, and in short challenged the whole concept of seniority. It was a rebellion that created a rift between us and them, one that neither side seemed intent on fixing.

Yes, we tried to patch things up. At least I did, anyway. Treated them like mature adults, I did. I was friends with them in those early days, and we had a healthy rivalry on the football pitch. We talked, we joked. I even taught one to solve a Rubik's Cube. You could say that I kinda saw them as my own younger brothers.

But I was wrong to treat them like mature adults, as it turned out. Mature adults would respect a person's right to a good night's sleep. Mature adults would know that rules exist for a reason. Mature adults would know that when the nice guy is seriously pissed at you, it means that you've really done something wrong.

I'm a fairly mild-mannered person myself, but the one thing that really gets my goat is when people disrespect their elders. That's one line I would never cross, unless I really have to.

Anyway, solving the problem was simple - I simply stopped caring. There was no more we're-all-mature-adults-here crap, I just considered the rebels to be young, immature children who didn't respond to reason. And I was happy. They could all get struck by lightning and I probably wouldn't have cared in the slightest. If   I had viewed them as my own flesh and blood before, you could say that I'd now disowned them. But not caring anymore didn't mean I felt nothing - never before had I felt so betrayed in my entire life.

It all seems like such a long time ago now. Apologies have been exchanged since then, and no matter how forced and insincere they may have seemed, they were at least something. However, completely forgiving them may still take a while yet. The wounds have mended, but the scars still remain.

Round and Round.

"Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst."
- Anonymous

I lost a good friend today. It was, of course, quite saddening, but I managed to cheer myself up by watching some Youtube videos of 'Whose Line Is It Anyway?' sketches.


No, no, he didn't die. He just departed from my life, for the time being.

You know how sometimes you feel a certain connection to someone, even if you've only just met? I've only had that a few times throughout my life so far, and this was one of those times.

And today was the last time I'll be seeing him again, at least for the next six or seven years anyway. He'll be off to Russia in September to study medicine, and from that point on the only way to contact him would be through Facebook. Oh well, that's still better than nothing. All the best to him, then.

****

Life is like a wheel. Yes, it's an often-used simile. Cliched, even. But you have to admit, it's true. One moment you're on top, and the next you're right there at the bottom.

The thing is, once you find yourself at the bottom, you need to find your way back to the top. A wheel won't turn unless a force is acting upon it, and likewise, if you don't do anything constructive about your problems, you're never gonna solve them. 

That being said, I bid thank you to Drew Carey and his cast of comedians. They've just helped me to solve mine.

Moving Forward.

"Life is like a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving."

 - Albert Einstein

You know how people say that time flies when you're having fun? And sometimes they even say that time crawls when you're not. It's somewhat of a rarity for someone to see the passage of time as going at its actual pace, one moment at a time.

For instance, I've been going to Nirwana College for over a month now. And that's exactly how long it's felt like. Time hasn't exactly flown by, but that doesn't mean I'm not enjoying my time there. And it hasn't exactly crept along, neither, but that doesn't mean I've been bored out of my mind. Maybe it's just me - hardly ever willing to exaggerate.

*****

Just the other day, we had pizza for dinner. We placed our order through the phone, and waited for the delivery guy to arrive. Sure enough, in about half an hour the doorbell rang and I went outside to meet him. 

What I hadn't expected, however, was to be pleasantly surprised - the delivery guy was none other than one of my old classmates from Form 1. Sure, we had never been that close but we'd always been on speaking terms. He did seem in a bit of a hurry, but we did manage to exchange a few words before going our separate ways.

I hadn't seen him in years, and he seemed all grown up now. He wasn't the only one - I'd met a couple of old classmates from primary school recently, and they both looked so much more mature than before. It has been six years since we last met, after all. 

Anyway, all this helped me realize just how far I've come. Just how far we've all come. Young people making their first forays into adulthood; going to college, doing part-time jobs, et cetera. Gone are the days of carefree youthfulness. Gone are the days of blissful innocence. The potentially crushing burden of responsibility has finally caught up to us.

I look at the younger ones, many of whom are in such a hurry to grow up. Well, they are clearly very ignorant in these matters. Back when we were in our school days we had been told to cherish our school days, as they would be the best of our lives. Now the time has come for us to do the same, to warn the younger generation of the dangers of the future. And of course, many of them won't heed the warnings. Just as it was with many of us.

Oh, well. Just like ourselves, they can't say they weren't warned. Enjoy yourselves while you still can, kids. I know I did.

Unconventional.

'Tis the season for education-related news. Typical conversations with fellow recent SPM graduates nowadays usually go along the lines of:

"Did you get the scholarship?" 

"Which university will you be studying at?" 

"Why the f*ck are you studying there?"

That last one happens to me a lot. But I can't be the only one, can I?

Anyway, recently I've been learning that quite a large number of my friends have been picked to receive scholarships from various benefactors, like Petronas and JPA. Good to see them getting to achieve their dreams and whatnot.

By right, I should be happy for them. And I am, although that wasn't the case at first, I'm sorry to say. You see,  quite a large number of my Valedictorian batchmates were offered said scholarships. Scholarships that I hadn't even bothered to apply for. So, I shouldn't have too many complaints about not getting any offers. It's more of a case of regret, and a bit of mentally kicking myself.

Add that to the studying (read: last-minute cramming) that I had to do for yesterday's exam that never was, and I got a big headache. But I'm all better now - a bit of shut-eye always does the trick. 

I have, once again, had to convince myself that my decision to go to Nirwana College and subsequently the Bandung Institute of Technology (ITB) was a good one. 

Sure, Indonesia may not be as glamorous as most of my other options - but then again, neither was Rembau. I had friends going to other older, more established institutions while I was exiled in a new, fledgling boarding school in the middle of a relatively-undeveloped area in Negri Sembilan. That school and I still managed to do pretty well in the end, I guess.

My point is, the unconventional way may not necessarily be the wrong way. So yeah, my friends are going off to tried-and-trusted public universities, or preparing themselves for a few years overseas with financial aid from tried-and-trusted government and private sectors. And then there's me - enrolling in some obscure college that's sharing a shady-looking building with some publishers, located right in the middle of the big city.

But who cares, right? Just as long as it works out in the end, it doesn't matter what path I took to get there - just as long as I didn't do anything illegal. The ends justify the means, and all that. 

And besides, tried-and-trusted is too mainstream.

Ideal.

You, you may say

I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one

I hope some day you'll join us

And the world will live as one

- John Lennon in Imagine

In a perfect world, there would be no pollution. The rivers and seas would be perfectly clean, and thriving with beautiful and wonderful marine life. There would be no holes in the ozone layer, and people could go to the beach without having to put on any sunblock. The land would be clean and litter-free. Cars and other vehicles would run on some sort of safe, renewable energy source that did not necessitate the expulsion of harmful waste products into the environment.

In a perfect world, everyone would be nice to each other. There would be no hate, no jealousy, no greed - and thus no fighting, no war, no slander, no backbiting, no treachery, no crime. Peace and unity would rule the world. Complete strangers would greet each other on the street. In fact, everyone would be so nice that the whole idea of money would be abolished and people would give things away for free, out of the kindness of their own hearts. And everyone would also be so nice as to not take advantage of this and go around asking others for anything, even if they knew that by doing so they were bound to get it.

In a perfect world, people would respect their elders. There would be no quarreling with parents, no running away from home, no eloping. Everyone would be perfectly disciplined, ready to do anything they were told to do. And since there was no such thing as cruelty or unfairness there wouldn't be anything to object to.

I could go on, but I believe I've made my point. Or have I? Maybe you just haven't seen it yet.

If you think about it, and ideal world would actually be pretty dull. There wouldn't be any crazy nuts to laugh at, and even if there were, everyone would be too nice to laugh at them. Complete tolerance and no discrimination would mean that no one would have a cause to fight for. A lack of tragedy would mean no drama. No politics would mean no entertaining debates between two sides intent on degrading one other. And a combination of all the above would mean there wouldn't be any good movies to watch.

And there lies the dilemma. Would you rather have an ideal, albeit boring world? Or would you stick with our current, more entertaining one - with all its evil, corruption, greed, death and controversy? Think about it. What would be your honest answer?

Streets.

First of all, I'd just like to tip my metaphorical hat off to a fantastic season of football. A season that was so incredibly unpredictable and ridiculous that I myself would have struggled to come up with anything like it. A certain football journalist even jokingly suggested that England's Football Association might as well end football for good, 'cause it's never gonna be this great again.

Moving on now to the main point of this post: college life. It's currently my third week as a student at Nirwana College, and it's been just fine so far. I'm catching up with the lessons, the lecturers are great, I've made lots of friends, and I'll be playing futsal at the college Sports Day this weekend.

However, what I believe to be the best part of all this is all the new experiences I'm getting. Sure, more well-known names like Taylor's and Inti may offer more academically, but there are just some things you can't get at such established institutions.

For starters, the college is located within the walls of the Plaza First Nationwide, near Pasar Seni in KL. The building has 14 floors, but the numbers in the elevators go all the way up to 18. Upon closer inspection one will find that the numbers 4, 13, 14 and 15 are missing. There are four elevators, but not all of them are accessible at all times. At certain times only one or two elevators will be working, and even then some of the buttons in the elevators won't light up even when hit aggressively and repeatedly. There's a kind of elevator schedule that I haven't gotten round to working out yet.

For lunch I would go with some classmates to eat at one of the many shops in the area. And since the place is a tourist hotspot, foreigners walking around and taking photos are a common sight. Now that I mention it, even locals walk around and take photos of the place too. They're probably from out of town, I guess.

As for prayers, the building has two designated 'suraus'. Well, more like two small, empty rooms with prayer mats in them. As for Friday prayers, my friends and I would walk to the nearby Masjid Jamek, where arriving late would mean having to pray out in the open where you would be exposed to the sun and rain. That's how congested it is during Friday prayers, although that's hardly surprising when you consider the fact that the mosque is pretty much located in the heart of the city.

Walking to the college from the Masjid Jamek LRT station and back every day is, in itself, a learning experience each time. I've seen all kinds of people - beggars, roadside food sellers, office workers, and plenty of others. I've seen how crazy the traffic can get. I've learnt to cross busy roads. And I've learnt how to get a seat on the LRT ride home almost every day.

Sure, it hasn't even been a month yet. Sure, I'm probably still going through my jakun phase. And sure, I might be brimming with blind optimism. But going to Nirwana was a decision that I made, and I firmly believe that I made a correct one. Well, whatever happens, I'll just go with it. Just like I always have.

A Fresh Start.

To think that at the time this picture was taken, many of us could hardly wait for school to end. Well, well.

A few weeks ago, my peaceful hiatus of roughly four months from formal education was finally halted. The time had come to leave Dreamland and make my first steps into the real world.

Everything had been more or less put on hold since school ended. I needed time to relax, to take a break. I felt that after eleven years of school I had earned it. This wasn't the time for life-changing decisions. Those would have to wait.

And now the longest holiday of my life so far is coming to a close. After deciding that I would study Actuarial Science for my tertiary education, the next step was to find a suitable institution, and a suitable program.

At first I was attracted to the American Degree Transfer Program. Through it, I wouldn't need to undergo any Pre-U nonsense, as I would be jumping straight into my degree. Two years at a local college, followed by two years in a university of my choice in North America. It was like a dream, and not just because I would be given the chance to return to the country of my birth. The holistic American education system also excited me, as I knew that I would be learning much more than just the skills required for my chosen future profession. There would also be a bunch of cool stuff like Psychology and Basics of Film-making.

However, its only downside was the insane cost. A scholarship would have put any worries to bed, but there was no guarantee that one of those would suddenly come knocking at my door anytime soon.

Then my mother got a call from a company that promised an overseas education, plus the guarantee of a JPA loan. It seemed too good to be true. Why not, we thought. A meeting was arranged at the company's office in Kuala Lumpur.

The meeting turned out to be quite fruitful. The proposal went like this: a year's foundation in KL, followed by another four years at Institut Teknologi Bandung (ITB) in Indonesia, with a study loan from JPA for my second year and onwards. The plan seemed perfect, but for one problem - Indonesia.

Of course, I don't claim to be an expert on the country, its culture, or its people. But, with all due respect, it just didn't seem as enticing as the US. However, my mother managed to talk me into it. I realized that overseas is still overseas, and I'd have to take things one step at a time. Maybe I could eventually end up doing my Master's degree in the States, you never know.

So anyway, I begin my tertiary education next week, at Nirwana College in KL. After visiting the place earlier today, I found the campus to be quite nice. Even if it didn't have any futsal courts. They do have a pool table on the top floor, though.

College promises to be a new experience, and hopefully one that I'll always remember for all the right reasons. It's time to get rid of the old habits - procrastination, sleeping in class, laziness, etc. - and turn over that new leaf I've been meaning to turn over for a while now.

They say in football, and indeed in other sports as well: if you don't shoot you don't score. If you don't make an effort, then there ain't no way you'll get want you want. And here I am, taking the plunge.

Here Goes Nothing.

The days since the SPM results were released have been somewhat eventful, to say the least. A nice change from the mind-numbing boredom I've been experiencing since leaving school.

It just wouldn't do for me to write down all that's been happening. I won't force myself. What's done is done. I suppose the one noteworthy thing I did since 21st March was to pass my driving test, and thus (finally) receiving my driver's license. Aside from that, well, I don't really feel like rambling about that.

One thing I do feel like rambling about, however, is the fact that I've recently noticed that I can be a pretty stubborn person. But in what sense, though?

Well, I have been to three educations fairs so far this year. And I now have my heart set on going for the American Degree Program offered by certain private colleges, in the field of Actuarial Science. The plan is to eventually end up at the University of Michigan, located in the town of my birth.

But there lies the problem. What if that doesn't work out? What if I don't land any scholarships, which are key to the success of this plan? Only recently I felt a new low when my SPM results didn't turn out the way I had hoped. If I didn't achieve my latest goal, would I be able to handle the disappointment?

Well, no one likes disappointment. Sadly, life has its way of ensuring that everyone gets a taste of it. Fair enough, I suppose. However, not everyone can handle disappointment properly, and that's why so many people fall along the way to success. Handling disappointment, for me, is knowing that you can't always get what you want, but what you do get is what you need.

I've just returned from a road trip - yet another sleepover in Rembau, which preceded the school's Majlis Anugerah Cemerlang. This time there were only four of us, and we had planned on getting some scholarship and career advice from the school counselor. And we did. Well, at least my three friends did. Engineering and Dentistry are easily more popular choices than Actuarial Science. And besides, I didn't really ask a lot of questions about my chosen field. I already knew what I wanted, and the stubborn part of me refused to let me change my mind.

It was just as well that during the MAC I happened to talk to a friend who was also taking Actuarial Science, and he had already received a scholarship from Maybank. Those five minutes or so were probably more beneficial to me in terms of my upcoming tertiary education than, well, the rest of the trip. Hey, at least it wasn't entirely wasted, huh?

Hopefully things will have gotten a lot less hectic, now that I don't have a whole lot planned for the next week or so. All that remains is to wait and pray that my scholarship applications were selected. Till next time then, folks.  

Ugh.

I haven't been posting anything on this blog for a while. This, I can attribute to a number of reasons - laziness, lack of inspiration, no mood, et cetera.

However, as a direct consequence of this inactivity, I fear that some of my knack for writing may have worn off a bit (maybe the sharper ones among you may notice that this is what I have implied in the seemingly-uninspired title to this post). Usually, this wouldn't be much of a problem since I'm not exactly doing anything academic for the time being.

Unfortunately, one of the scholarships I am currently trying to apply for is requesting that I submit a 500-word essay as part of my application. Besides the usual "Why this scholarship is for you" dross I also have to write about "How would you contribute to the good governance practices and leadership development of Malaysia?".

Yes, it's the Khazanah scholarship. After a bit of research on Google I have reason to believe that for the past four years at least, potential applicants have been writing about the exact same thing while applying for this exact same scholarship.

"So, what's the big deal?" you may ask. Well, frankly my task has gotten a bit more difficult, thanks to this small bit of information. How on Earth am I supposed to come up with something original for this essay? Something eye-catching? Something that makes me jump off the page? Something that at least four years' worth of applicants hasn't thought of yet?

Well, firstly - chances are, the ones reading the essays this year probably aren't gonna be the same ones who did it last year, or even the years before that.

Secondly - everyone's got a different story to tell. If I can avoid the cliches, maybe I'll be able to set myself apart from the other applicants.

Thirdly - and this one's a very, very long shot - most people will have turned away from the scholarship because of the essay. Thus, the competition is narrowed down. Although this would quite likely mean that the ones left are the really good applicants.

Well, writing this post is one way to get the creative juices flowing again. The deadline for the scholarship application is April 1st, this Sunday. Hopefully I'll be able to carve out a masterpiece by then.

Down To Earth.

The 2011 SPM results were released earlier today, much to the anxiety of 468, 808 recent secondary school leavers. They were supposed to have been released as early as 10 in the morning, but at my school in Rembau we were forced to wait until almost three hours later.

The night before, my Facebook news feed had been filled with SPM-themed posts. Most of my batchmates had switched their profile pictures to the same one - an admittedly well-edited picture of our batch. A certain friend had spammed my inbox with messages telling me to do the same.

I'd actually just gotten back from Terengganu at the time, so I was somewhat pissed. But just a little. So, I ended up changing my profile picture anyway.

Now back to results day. Well, first there were the following announcements, among others:

• Semesra had come in third in the state, behind established schools Kolej Tunku Kurshiah and SMS Tunku Munawir.
• Semesra had come in first in the Rembau district.
• The Rembau district was the top district in the state. Well, it only has about 10 secondary schools, including Semesra, so this was not exactly shocking.

Then the names of the top-scoring students were called out one by one. Three managed to achieve the coveted 9A+ target, and 66 others just about fell short, 'only' managing various A's for their nine subjects. All in all the Valedictorians had achieved a CGPA of 1.30, which isn't too shabby for a school with an age of just over two years.

The top scorers. Picture courtesy of Semesra official blog.

Well, how did I do, then? I was one of the 66, with a result of 5A+, 4A.

"Wow, that's great!" "Congratulations!" "You did fantastic!"

I know, I know. But to be honest, I was in fact somewhat less than thrilled with my achievement. After receiving my results, I was overcome by a strange feeling, which I took to be indifference at the time. I lost my appetite, I lost my mood for social interaction, and worst of all I didn't even do any grammar checking while looking through the new, beautifully-made school magazine (Okay, maybe just a little).

Despite the fact that I had managed to better all my previous exam results, I just couldn't be happy with it. I had failed to get straight A pluses, and that one thought dominated my mind. Maybe others noticed, or maybe they were too happy with their own results to do so. But I knew what had inflicted me: disappointment.

A part in the back of my mind knew all along that I didn't deserve to get 9A+. I was much too lazy, and always too embroiled in my own non-academic thoughts most of the time. If anyone deserved that achievement, it was the bookworms. You know the type. Studying day in, day out; staying up late to study; hardly, if ever, coming out to play. And indeed, the three people who managed 9A+ ticked all these boxes (no offence).

And yet, another part of me stubbornly refused to accept that. This part somehow instilled in me a belief that I didn't have to sacrifice my fun in order to succeed. I often fantasized about what I would do if I managed to get 9A+, even with my unorthodox study methods.

But I was wrong, and this was probably what hit me hardest. I realised that no one ever amounted to anything by simply loafing around, and laughing at the ones who actually put in some effort. I had to stop building castles in the air, and I needed to come back down to earth. An immediate change of mentality was required in order to get through college and whatever else that comes afterwards.

Everything that happens is for the best. God, in His infinite wisdom decided to show me the error of my ways, and I am grateful for that. Alhamdulillah. Thank you for this, Allah.

Congratulations to the Valedictorians. And I'm sorry as well - looks like I won't be uploading any hair-free pictures on Facebook anytime soon.

Picture courtesy of Yasmeen Fazeera Shamsuddin, who also managed straight A's. Congratulations.

 

Sheer Bliss.

People are happy for a number of reasons. What strikes you as a happy event? Probably the usual - getting something you want, meeting friends and family, watching a funny TV show.

Why do these things make us happy? Well, I'm confident that there must be some sort of scientific explanation that involves the inner workings of the human body, but I'm not about to get into that. For me, happiness does not require an explanation, it shouldn't be needlessly complicated. You're happy because you're happy. That's it. Nothing more.

I myself seem to feel incredibly blissful whenever I'm playing a good game of football, be it with friends or otherwise. I don't know how to explain it. I'm not sure that I even have to.

Some people might not understand what could possibly be so fun about chasing a ball around and attempting to get it in between a couple of goalposts. Well, in truth I'm not exactly sure why I enjoy it so much. But I believe that you don't need a reason to be passionate about something. For me, it's simple: Don't get it? Don't care.

Football isn't simply about kicking a ball. There's so much more, if you actually bothered to find out. Football is a way of life for many, and (somewhat shockingly) even a religion for some. Football can, and has put whole nations to war. Football has the ability to amaze, to excite, to piss people off. All of this shows how much of an influence the aptly-named 'beautiful game' can have.

Football brings people together.

Every football fan has their own story - what football means to them. As do I.

Being a mostly introverted individual, life is harder for me socially than those guys on the other side of the fence. I find it harder than most to make friends. I despise spending time at social gatherings. Talking to people is something I'd rather not do at times.

But football helped to change that. Many of my friends and acquaintances were first met on the pitch, or the court. Playing football with bigger and better opponents taught me to fear no one, to be confident of my own abilities. Shouting for the ball while playing helped to raise the volume of my voice. Back in Form 4 at Seminda, I came in 10th for the 'Merentas Desa' without having done any regular jogging - all my training was done running around chasing footballs.

Way more fun than jogging.

So am I a better, more well-balanced individual today because of football? Perhaps. All praise be to God Almighty for introducing me to the beautiful game. Who knows how I'd have turned out if I hadn't spent all that time playing?