New Birthday Girl

As with today, my cousin is officially one year old. A birthday party was dedicated to this new birthday girl, hoping that one day, she will become a useful person. Many people, let them be relatives or friends attended this event. I've to admit that it was like a typical birthday party, you know, blowing candles, making wishes and giving presents but what amazed me was how proud her parents were, to be able to celebrate this meaningful day together. Perhaps my parents were like them when they did my first birthday. Her father told me that fatherhood is no easy job, it needs much perseverance as well as hard work, but it's paid off to see his child being happy. It makes sense, looking at how much trouble I used to give to Dad when I was a kid. The best to the birthday girl!

Minutes of Fame

The rays of morning sun were piercing, so annoyingly that I had to finally open my eyes. It was quite warm for early morning and so I rowed to the left corner of my bed, reaching for something square. Rubbing my eyes, I observed the two needles ticking behind the screen, with the short one pointing at between figures “7” and “8” while the long one, “9”. At first, it was nothing but then, as reality woke me up, I realised one thing was for sure; I was------DOOMED!

Without anymore second thoughts, I jumped up, rushed into the bathroom and within three pails of water, cleaned myself. I put on my worn out uniform and quickly got prepared. As I hurried to get my shoes, I went pass Mother. I was surprised as she responded by just standing there, looking at me, with eyes opened wide, mouth fell agape. With my RAZ125, I departed.

As soon as I entered the main road, I noticed there were two girls jogging beside. They managed to look at me with interest and giggled among themselves. Perhaps in this condition of mine, I still looked attractive. Then there was this mid-age woman who, at first, took a glimpse at me then observed me for some time. Shaking her head, she responded just the way Mother did and sighed away. Well, what could I say? Keeping my image clean for whole five years proved worthy after all!

I was riding for a few minutes when there came another, well, admirer. It was an average 10-year-old girl. She actually surveyed me with her eyes full of admiration, idolization and likeliness. She was cute but sorry, I don’t take younger girls. At the moment, pride and satisfaction filled my mind, as if I could fly.

“I’m king of the world!” I shouted and did what I did the best; getting attentions.

School was within sight minutes later, luck was my lady as the gates were still opened. After parking my motorcycle, I sped to my class and many things happened at once. Every single eye was staring at me as soon as I entered the class, even Ms. Ng’s. Wow, wow, now that was too much! Since when I became so popular?

“Kim, why are you wearing your pajamas?” Jack asked, laughing though.

Curious, I checked myself and discovered the truth; I forgot to change my pajamas pants! How embarrassing! My head felt dizzy, or pretended to be, and it was darkness all around. I wished I would never wake up ever again.

by-sacredsword

Days After the Orientation Week

Yes, like the title suggests, this post is about events after the orientation week. The good thing is, no more oversized "dog tag" hanging on my neck, no precious coconut to carry and no more going home 6 p.m. in the evening. Now, schooling days feel more comfortable, that i can finally breathe out a bit. Besides that, three new members joint my class; Siew Phey(transferred from Bio stream), Kao Hao(an avid fan and Dota King-to-be) and Zie Yang(well, straight and spectaled fella'). It seems that i can get along with both the boys and perhaps, by any chance, the girl. She doesn't talk that much in class, just sits there and does her business quietly. Homework is also slowly forming a mountain on my desk, most of them still pending, wonder when am i going to finish them. It won't be too much trouble though, as the teachers, well, not all, are quite patient and passionate in teaching us. I was once told that assignments in Sixth Form are difficult, we'll see about that soon. Enough with the pros, now, the cons. It hurts me that most of my seniors don't seem to know me anymore. There was this senior who was in charge of my group during the orientation week that ignored me although i greeted her twice. Didn't they teach us to greet them? Another senior, whom i teased a lot, totally ignored me when i noded as meeting her. Maybe the things they told me to do were only effective during the week? Well, judging from the events recently, i doubt they weren't. Guess i'll just wait and see then. Best of luck in them and me, myself.

Village

It was my cousin’s marriage that I stayed at Kampong Kasar, our village, for a few days. The stay was truly a relaxing, peaceful experience. It also showed me how the village differed from the city I currently live at.

Everyday when I woke up, instead of bearing noises from crowds, motor vehicles and construction sites, I was delighted in melodies of birds chipping, breeze blowing and river running free. While in the night, I slept, listening to lullaby by the crickets.

Unlike concrete forest in the city, the village was surrounded by tall, green trees, which provided almost pure, clean air. Every breath I took was a refreshing one. It was also to them that the village had more breeze than heat. I could lie outside the house, under the sun, but still feeling pleasant.

As the dawn broke, I could actually see the sun rose majestically from the mountains. It was this hour that lights were visible in windows of the wooden houses. Then there were fumes coming out from the kitchens, which I believed were to prepare breakfast. It was not long before I saw figures coming out from the houses, hoes and other farming tools on their shoulders. If they were citizens, perhaps they were still sleeping by now.

Often, I went to the huge paddy, where the main crops were planted, in the village. Farmers were patiently planting the paddy in single files with their backs bent to the front. Three naïve children were pacing around the field quietly, hunting for crabs and fishes, some throwing mud to each other, waging a mud war, while others playing hide and seek. When it was noon, wives and mothers came to the field, food packages in both hands. The farmers and the children hurried towards the women and altogether, they dined. Watching this sight made me felt warm and settled down. It envied me a little for it is very rare in the city.

The villagers treated me with much hospitality and kindliness. I could actually talk to one of them though it was the first time we knew each other. They were willing to help me but asked for no return. This quality is totally absent among the citizens.

I went back to the city a few days later. The time spent in Kampong Kasar was to be remembered and perhaps when I needed a place to retreat, it would certainly be my first destination.


by-sacredsword

Past

I both like and dislike the past. For one, I hate it when most people judge me of what I have done in the past. There was once, when I was too naïve, that I accidentally hit a girl’s wrist, which I meant as a joke. I was then labeled as “psycho”, especially by the girls. Until now, whenever I approach a girl, she will think of the incident and if she ever talks back to me, she does in such way as if I am her sole enemy! The worst thing is even my new classmates, when they are told about the incident, start to take me as a sex maniac and avoid me most of the time!
Another reason why I don’t like the past is that it is filled with too many black memories. One of them is the incident I mentioned above. The incident itself was far enough to ruin my whole primary school life; I was alone back then. Recalling it makes me feel painful, both mentally and physically. And when I was in Fourth Form, there was this friend of mine whom I thought was very honest thus we became good friends. But my thoughts went wrong. He was good in front me, but behind me, he backstabbed me. The feeling of being betrayed really disappoints me.
Well, on the other hand, there are reasons why I do like the past sometimes. To me, the past is an excellent teacher. It teaches me that I should not take girls for granted and that they always have ways to cover with what they cannot do. Take the psycho incident above as an example. After what I did, the girls were really mad of me but they couldn’t just come forward and punch me. Thus, the best option to show their dissatisfaction was to mark me as an enemy for everyone. Furthermore, I learn that it is a norm for some people, not to say bad or good, to have two faces at the same time. These people I mean can be your very best friends only when you can see them. However, when you can’t, they will badmouth and backstab you as frequent as possible. These people, if I ever meet one nowadays, I will just ignore his or her existence.
Apart from being a good teacher, the past aids me in my journey to maturity. From the past, I can get useful experiences which help me to develop my thoughts, my actions as well as the way I deal with my problems. Once, I would cry if I made mistakes, then now I will think of causes of the problems and solve them in a rational way. I will also take my problems as obstacles that I must face in order to get better outcomes rather than choosing not to deal or running away from them.
The past really has much significance, both literally and figuratively thus, I will forever remember of what I have done in the past but not to live in it. This is important so that I will never repeat what I have done wrong just like what George Santayana said “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

Last Vacation

After some restless weeks, SPM was finally over! My anticipation grew larger as we decided to stay in the city for a few days and visit the new theme park . At that time, I was not aware of the surprise that awaited me there.
It was a weekend that we arrived, thus crowds were inevitable. We had some hard times squeezing through those people just to buy tickets. My friends were so impatient to try the new “Frenzy Flames” game and I was left far behind. I tried to catch up but with my timid figure, it seemed impossible.
Then many things happened at the same time; one of them, the surprise I mentioned earlier. I was keeping my pace up. There was this figure that appeared in front of me out of nowhere, I tried to speed down, however, to no avail.
BONG!
We both fell to the ground. Getting my sight clearer, I tried to look at the person I bumped into. My eyes opened wide, mouth fell agape.
“Sister?” I questioned myself.
It was a girl. She had long, black hair reaching her chest while her small, ebony eyes were sparkling. Her lips were strawberry red. She wore a lipstick pink shirt matched with deep indigo jeans. Along with her spectacles, she resembled my sister very much. Well, my deceased sister. Leukemia took her away.
I was still frozen with shock that she quickly stood up.
“Gomenasai!” she said, quite hastily, and bowed for a couple of times.
And that brought me back to reality. Only then I realised the situation and many eyes were already staring at me. I got up and faced the girl.
“Erm, huh? Gemenasa?”
“Oh, it’s gomenasai. I mean, I’m sorry!” she replied, though lacking fluency.
“N-No-No problem!”
“Hey, if you don’t mind, how about going to Mc Donald’s together? Let me buy you something.” she smiled, her eyes were glittering, at least that was what I thought.
“B-But I don’t even know you.” I answered, blood boiling in my head.
“You will.”
As my so-called friends had abandoned me, I accepted her invitation. At first I was quite ashamed to make my order but she picked Double Cheese Burger for me, which was exactly my favorite! How could she know that? She took Big Mac for herself, and that was my sister’s favorite! Was it fate or just sheer coincidence? I sighed on that idea.
“Konichi-wa, my name is Aya. I am a Japanese.” she introduced, bowed like she had done before.
“I see. You’re here for vacation?”
“Yes, my last vacation” she replied. The “last” word was spoken so low that I could barely hear the pronunciation. Her face turned sour suddenly as if she had lost hope on something. At that instant, she turned into her former happy-go-lucky self again.
We had a pretty good time with the chit-chat between us. The more time I spent with her, the more I thought she were my sister. Such warmth, such chemistry she had matched my sister’s very much. What trick was fate playing?
As we chatted longer, I told her about my sister.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay!” I said, trying to cover up my grief. “Hey, how do you say these words in Japanese?”
“What words?”
There came a voice and it was my phone. My friends were looking for me, how annoying! I managed to exchange phone numbers with Aya and off searching for my friends. Perhaps, later, I would regret leaving her just like that.
The next day, a phone call woke me up. It was Aya.
“Come find me.” she sounded brief, very brief.
“But where are you?”
“I’ll lead you.”
Burning with curiosity, I followed every direction she gave. Eventually, I came to a building-----a hospital. Now, curiosity turned into fear. What had happened to her?
“Come to the top.” she said and it was the end of the call.
I rushed into the hospital and searched desperately for ways to get to the top. My heart was beating fast while sweat was streaming down ceaselessly. At last, I got it to the top and there Aya was, lying on the ground.
I hurried beside her. Noticing me, she smiled again.
“I’m going to a place.”
“Huh? Where?”
“To where your sister has gone.”
“What? Are you joking?”
Aya wanted to say something but she began to cough and it worsened within every second. Then blood began to flow out from her eyes, nostrils and ears. I saw this before; when my sister was dying.
Her hand moved and I grabbed it tightly. Her lips were moving, however, there seemed to be no sound. I went nearer to her and now it was clearer.
“What-were-were the-the-words-you wanted-me to say in-Japanese?” she whispered slowly in my ear.
I was going to answer but my tears met my cheeks first. How I wanted to hug her and cry as loudly as I desired!
“Trans-late-translate this sence-sentence.” I was barely able to speak out each words for the pain inside was tormenting me.
“The sentence ‘I like you’.”
There was no voice in my ear but I could feel Aya’s left hand move. One of the fingers touched the flowing blood under her eye and began writing something, in alphabets, on the ground.
“DAISUKIDAYO.”
As if being struck by a thunderclap, I shouted as much as my throat could afford. The pain inside was too much for me to keep silent. With all her leftover strength, Aya smiled the way she did the first time we met and closed her eyes. Then, though vividly, I saw an angel holding a girl flying up the sky.
Just not long after that, two figures appeared from the entrance; Aya’s parents. From them, I discovered that Aya had leukemia as well. She came to Malaysia because there was a suitable bone marrow donor here. Unfortunately, the donor took back his voluntary. And yesterday, Aya sneaked out from the hospital to spend her “last vacation”.
“Doctor Jinn, the leukemia forum is about to begin. Everyone’s waiting for you.” came a whole different voice, this time from a nurse.
I woke up into another reality. I did not realise my cheeks were wet. I sighed as I wiped them dry.
“You’re right, nurse. Let’s go. I hope the cure for leukemia can be found.”
“For my sister. For Aya.”

by-sacredsword

Journey To Maturnity-In Another Girl's Opinion

Again, I awoke and looked outside the window beside me but what I saw was yet another thick darkness. It must have been some four hours since the train, which I was in now, departed from Tanah Merah. This journey I traversed was to pursue hope for both my family and I, to find a job at Kuala Lumpur.

Father’s legs are paralyzed, a result from a recent accident while Mother has to take care of the family. My brothers are yet too young, thus it is up to me to ensure their survival.

The train journey was indeed painful and hardship seemed to be endless.

For one, the night winds were so chilling that the pain was suffered even by the bone. Most of the time, to get some warmth, I had to rub my hands and place them on my cheeks and ears. Another thing was that the old man next to me who I saw him look at me with such lustful eyes. Avoiding him, I had to go to the canteen coach, where most passengers gathered, and waited there throughout the night. It was really troublesome but it was not enough to deter me. For my family, for a better future, I had to continue this journey.

Traveling alone is scary sometimes, especially to a sixteen-year-old girl like I am. People will be trying to take advantage on me. But it is this traveling experience that aids me in mature person.

Some five hours later, through the window, I could finally see the Twin Towers. And far behind them, the dawn sun slowly rose and shined majestically. Here, the train journey ended but another journey had only started.

by-sacredsword

Growing Up-In A Girl's Perspective

Growing Up
I wonder why many people don’t like to grow up for I think it is a wonderful process. I can get many things from it. For one, I will have more freedom as I grow up. I can do things like going out with friends in night time, going for a vacation by myself or even taking a girl out for a date without having my parents to restrict when to come home. In financial aspect, I will be given the rights to manage my own money, to make my own spending plans. I will also be able to make my own choices on what I want instead of my parents deciding which is good and which bad for me.
Growing up is a path that I traverse in order to become a better person. As I grow up, I will obtain many experiences and memories. It is these aspects that aid me in developing my thoughts, making them more rational, more self-conscious. With this, when faced with problems, I can deal with them confidently. I will take them as obstacles which I have to break through and get better outcomes later. Only with growing up that I will learn how to think in such way.
Furthermore, growing up enables me to see the true world, that is very different from my childhood’s fairytales. Let’s take friendship as an example. When I was a small child, my best friend was whoever person whom sat beside me, whom borrowed me his or her colour pencils or as simple as the one whom shared food with me. But when I grow up, I am more exposed to the real world and in real world, best friends are very rare. It teaches me to appreciate those who are still by my side.
Growing up really is a merry. Not only will it make more freedom available for me, it leads me to become a better individual, which then opens up my eyes and opinions towards everything that happens around me. Thus, growing up is not to be feared for it is a path that every people should walk.

by-sacredsword

Bungalow & Old Apartment

I thought it was finally over but it was not. Mother started it again and Father yelled back with all the volume his throat could afford.
“Why did you give your number to another woman?”
“She is a client! A CLIENT! STOP THAT OR I”LL…”
“WHAT? HIT ME AGAIN?”
How I wished I can scream out loudly! But as I was taken as if I was invisible, caught between a fight of foolish adults, I stood up and rushed into my room.
I did not know when but as I touched my cheeks, I could feel tears streaming down ceaselessly; I was crying. I had not idea how many times I had cried since that year. That year, Father successfully became a Chief Executive Officer of a company while Mother, the chairman of the Women Society. From an old apartment, we moved into a big bungalow, for a better life, or that was what they told me. However, it was actually a beginning of a nightmare.
Father went home late every night that Mother often suspected that he went looking for another woman. He could spend time on his so-called work but why could he not do so on me? Mother was not much different too. She was always away from home, helping, advising other women on how to educate their children with love, to spend more time with them. But where was her when I needed her the most?
I missed the old apartment we used to live when we were poor. Unlike now, we only ate the same fried rice that Mother used to cook for every dinner. Father and Mother never fought each other and I was very grateful to have been born into such family. The most unforgettable thing was how Mother treated Father after his work. She would comfort him with her sweet voice, warm complexion and, the most interesting part, her seducing eyes. This was why I felt they have left something very important in that house.
“Ann, I’m sorry. Let’s sleep together for tonight.” came a voice from outside and I knew it was Mother’s.
I agreed and went to her room. Father and Mother had separate rooms now, with a thick, black wall kept separating them. So much hatred I had on that wall that I dared not touch it even once.
“No, Ann. You sleep with me.” Father insisted.
I could not bear it any longer! With all my might, I punched that wall as if it was my sole enemy. Fresh blood was then rushing down from my fists, pain piercing throughout my fingers. However, the feelings of disappointment and anger deep inside my heart were more powerful, so stronger that they made me forget the pain on my fists, so potent that, for a moment, I forgot how to cry.
“I don’t want to be with ANY OF YOU! I want to be with both of you! BOTH OF YOU!”
There was a dead silence. Then, Father and Mother looked at me with their tear-filled eyes and blank faces, as if they were stricken by a force. They faced each other and then, just then, they smiled, even in a rather embarrassed way. Tightly, we hugged each other. I could at last feel the warmth I had long dreamt for. Father and Mother had found the thing they left in that old apartment. It was love. Love.

by-sacredsword

Ah Min-Someone I Respect

To many people, Ah Min is a worthless person. This is because he is special from us; he has Dawn’s syndrome. Despite his illness, he still leads a normal life independently. Working as caretaker of my school, he often wears grey
T-shirt and the same faded trouser. His boots, which were given by Headmaster three years ago, shine brightly when he puts them on.
If you look at him, he looks like a Mongolian. His eyes are small that when he laughs, they almost disappear from his face. He has small nose, chubby cheeks and bud lips. On his left cheek, there is a big, hairy mole. He tells me everyday that the more hair that grows on the mole, the more happiness he will get in the future. Unfortunately, happiness itself seems to be away from him.
He has short arms and small hands with stout fingers. On his left shoulder, there is a tattoo which resembles the alphabets “MM”. He told me that it was a tribute to Marilyn Monroe, his idol. There are also two toes missing on his right leg, lost in an accident last year; he was cutting grass with the cutting machine, where suddenly, he accidentally cut his own toes!
He is a man of few words. He seldom speaks and only speaks when necessary. But what I find interesting in him is, despite his low profile, his humorous part. For example, when you really look at him, he will give you a thumb up, followed by a generous smile while moving his eyebrows up and down. Another example is that when he cries, he makes that funny nose-blowing noise with his handkerchief.
Most of my schoolmates do not really like him but I am the opposite. To me, Ah Min is a kind person. Once, there was a Standard One student, waiting for his parent alone at the school gate. Ah Min saw him. He gave him a lollipop and waited together with him for an hour. But his good deeds were mistaken by the student’s parent. Not only was he not thanked but he was also cursed with rough words. Still, he never regretted for helping the boy.
Moreover, he has positive thinking. Everyday, while he is working, my schoolmates will call him with words like “nerd”, “scum”, “worthless bastard”, “so cai” and many more. But never once does he feel offended or upset. He explains to me that perhaps those fellows do not truly understand his condition; he even feels sympathy for their foolishness.
As a worker, he is very hardworking. He is always the first person to arrive school and always the last one to leave. Though there is no additional salary offered for overtime, he still works more than he is supposing to. In fact, he does it almost everyday! Furthermore, he never takes his leaves. I remember he told me:
“I must work harder. Then I’ll not be fired. Then I can be independent.”
Ah Min is special but his heart is what the most normal person does not have. He is the person I respect, the person I look up at.

Embrace!

This is my first post and i don't really know what to write. Basically, a blog is supposed to be a place where you can write anything you want, let it be hell or heaven. Well then, here goes nothing. After waiting for some five months, SPM results were finally announced, and for me, I am quite satisfied with them. Still, they don't really qualify for scholarship applications, here i mean JPA, Sime Darby, Petronas, etc. I don't really have big, typical dreams either, you know, like being a doctor, a lawyer or maybe an engineer that will make my pockets fat when i grow up. Instead, i want a job that i like to do, a job which satisfies me, money does not really matter. For this i applied for the Graphic Designs course at Universiti Tunku Abdul Rahman, simply UTAR. I got it but then with second thoughts, i decided to take Sixth Form. Why, people asked. I guess i'm not quite prepared to go out to the real world and live independently, and that the Form guarantees a better future, or that's what they told me. Guess i won't know if i don't try it, huh? After taking part in the Form orientation programme, i found out that i can actually do what i didn't during my Fifth Form, which i admit, was not that meaningful. I want to be someone people know, to truely take part in activities and learn how to socialize properly with people. Then again, the real journey starts tomorrow, 'till then i'll embrace it! Embrace!