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.