Sepia Scenes

No one can find the rewind button now
Sing it if you understand.
and breathe

- Anna Nalick, 2AM

As the last few days of high school linger, unraveling like a piece of art, I rediscovered a little more about how much I’ve changed in high school- very little.

In stark contrast to my friends who I’ve witnessed grown and matured in their very own ways, I find myself still unscathed from the long journey in high school. My own choices reflect on the minimal danger I was willing to face, only to leave me with more to lose and less to gain.

I stared at the empty table in front of me. Guano splattered and coated with rust. Laughter filled the air from the opposite end. My last two years left me to realise that I can be astonishingly ambitious. The positions, the responsibilities left me with barely enough time to breathe. Shamefully, I have to admit that I did neglect friends and became stone cold. Reluctant to compromise, I spent lesser time with things and people. Close friends soon only became acquaintance.

With the last few days in mind, nothing else to suffocate and squeeze my brain juice (other than studies), a part of me that was passive all this while seemed to have awaken again. On top of that, little tokens from friends aided my struggle and made me understand  that maybe, I did do a little good deed or two in high school.

Friends do matter. Even if some are an absolute pain in the neck.

I might not have changed much. But I have endure my little bit of enduring times, my share of hardship and my share of the good ol’ regular growing pains.

I just guess that we all have to trust God in every choice we make and pray that every path we take will be enlightened with his Word.

When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.

1 Corinthians 13:11

A Thousand Miles

*WHINES INCOHERENTLY*

It just struck me that it is the Beginning of the End has just started. I have entered the last month of high school. I am growing old and boring. I am attending interviews and rounding up possible prospects for my future, making plans, on the verge of graduating from high school. It is finally sinking in. I’m seventeen. I’m really seventeen. IT’S ME and I’M SEVENTEEEENNN! Believe it or not. Yes, I am. Aging. Growing moldy and wrinkly.

OH NO.

I’m OLD.

and more experienced. and I am seventeen.

I’M OLDDDDDD.

A very old and seemingly happy lady.

Poem of the week: Crabbed age and youth cannot live together.

I’m GRADUATING soon, PEOPLE.

My bad back posture is giving me a bad back ache.

Upon the signs in the sky, hark my dears. Awaiting a battle. The End. The Beginning. Hold you breath. The stench is too strong. The weak may not live. The signs and omens show themselves.

Zits, books and long blank looks. The predicament. Alas my dears, this is it.

THIS IS SPARTA!!

OPS. I mean,

THIS IS THE LAST MONTH.

The time that stands between the 17 year old Malaysians and SPM.

A Marullus should come along and scold me by saying:

” Where is thy books and thy stationary?

What dost thou with thy computer on?

Apple Crumble and Sweet Sauce

Raisins are evil and addictive.

I’m back!

For the moment.

My supposingly History-brainstuffing weekend plan isn’t going as well as I want it too beeeeee. *burst into a zillion tears*

Anyway, what I’ve been up to lately?

I know that YOU are all dying to know (please note that this line should be read with a slight tint of sarcasm)

I rode on a bus packed with people and I stood (unfortunately) beside an OLD primary school mate (and current school mate) who was seemly enjoyed the 15 minutes worth of bickering and had a glorious time insulting Louise and myself. Got lost in PJ. Rode a taxi.

I broke a headband.

I broke a bottle.

I got broke. (Thanks to a certain uh-hum who did pay up after all )

I lost a pendrive.

I recently lost another pendrive. (Sorry Rachel)

I lost my mojo to read history.

My back hurt like dried feces right now.

***

Anyway, there’s so much I want to blabber about to the world (other than dehydrated golden nuggets) but I’ll have to start off with one thing at a time. And the next time would be… IN a month’s time. And that would be after trials and then the following time would probably be after SPM! Hurray! You will now mark the following dates on your calendar/diary/personal schedule.

So, for this month’s exclusive write up, it’s a really funny conversation/ event between my mom and myself and you should laugh or vibrate your voice box to emit a sound which sounds like “hahaha” after the narration. Do I make myself very clear?

Alright.

So my mom and I were doing the regular house chores after returning from school. My part would be folding the clothes and my mom would be watering the plants and sweeping the porch floor.

My mom was done with her part and was helping me to bring the folded clothes to their respective owner’s room. I was making a remark on the amount of clothes I had to fold and dicovered a really odd fact.

There were 3 pairs of pants, 3 t-shirts for myself and my mother respectively. On the other hand, my dad had 2 tees. My brother (are you ready for this????) only had his precious pair Padini socks for that day’s worth of washing.

HAHAHA.

Thank goodness my brother’s working now cause I wouldn’t want to catch him around the house with only a pair of socks.

Some would say, “(O.O)”

And to advertise his great entrance into the working (real) world, you can catch him (or rather his articles) on The Star almost everyday (whenever he gets an assignment to cover).

I’m such a sweet sister.

The uncanny resemblance between two prominent characters from two very different worlds.

(in attempt to download Julius Caesar but failing)

Great! I got my gear back into History mode!

Action

“I think almost everyone does/ has it.

Do you?” He asked her with a query expression.

“Of course I do!” she said.

He gave her an odd look and replied, “oh.”

**

Peer pressure. Negative thoughts. Materialism.

Salt of the earth. Shining Him. Glorify.

Friends.

Friend.

Relationships.

Relationship.

People’s views.

His view.

Actions vs belief

Belief.

Expectation from peers.

His expectations.

Life.

Just because everyone is doing it doesn’t mean that you have to succumb to it. Sin.

The Lord shall preserve you from all evil; He shall preserve your soul. The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in From this time forth, and even forevermore. (Ps 121.7-8)

The Lord shall preserve you from all evil; He shall preserve your soul.
The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in From this time forth, and even forevermore. (Ps 12The Lord shall preserve you from all evil; He shall preserve your soul.
The Lord shall preserve your going out and your coming in From this time forth, and even forevermore. (Ps 121.7-8)

Hiatus.

The bittersweet taste of wine

**

I tell myself, I can’t be drunk! It was late, a Saturday and my head was spinning. My tongue raced as I spoke. My words slurred with a sloppy sound. The sloshing of saliva as I mumbled and excused myself from my company. The exit. The door.

Fresh air filled my lungs.

I’m not drunk.

The lines on the street waved in a curved pattern. Dancing. Mocking. My teeth chattered. My body felt warm, but inside I felt cold, steel cold. Call a taxi, my head shouted. I stepped into the road. I spotted a taxi and stood in the middle of the road to stop it. The sharp glare from the headlights. The screeching sound of the brakes. My mind ran through the night’s event.

The blinking lights and loud music. MUSIC? I wouldn’t define the jarring ear-blasting frequency music, but that’s what they all called it. Jolting figures, the smell of nicotine, hookah, shisha and cigar. What’s so cool about smoking? Why don’t they achieve the same results in a more cooler manner, like STUFFING a sheet of asbestos from my grandma’s house ceiling down their throat. Fast, effective and not hazardous to others.

The tempo of the room quicken as I attempted to make myself at home. Blend in like a chameleon. The skimpy outfit I wore barely covered enough to satisfy my liking. Green, yellow and red neon lights zooming across the room from the disco ball. Spinning and spinning endlessly.

The first glass of alcohol was extremely bitter. I don’t drink. At least not excessively.

Blind date, a hoax. My date was suppose to be a millionaire, hot hunk, 25 years, dark tan, every girls’ dream come true. And he picked me. Based on the website, our compatibility was 97%. My best friend said that we’ll work the 3% along the way. It was too good to be true but I needed a fairytale to save me from the previous relationships gone sour. My heart fluttered and I gave it.

He’s eyes scanned my every move as I fought my way through the crowd to the bar table. Not a very ladylike and grand entrance. But my bestie insisted that if I wanted to really hook this guy, I would have to flaunt my every bit of flesh possible. So much for love at first sight. The people of today should call it with the right term. But seriously, imagine a guy proposing to a girl telling her “Baby, it was LUST at first sight.” But like what my bestie said, we’ll work the 3% later on if the website was really accurate and if my new outfit lured him to my part of the game.

My game? I’ve yet to set the rules. But tonight, the ball was in his court. He flashed a smile as I sat on the tall chair. Mentally, I reminded myself to stay put and not swing around like I usually do. I crossed my legs. Our conversation was light and simple.

The drinks came flowing, bottomless. My laughter grew louder. His hands wandered more, carefully dancing across my skin, teasing. My heart pumped harder.

Then there was a snuggle, a kiss here and there.

I never believed in physical relationships. Not on the first date. IF it was, it was called a HOOK UP. My hormones kicked it as I got used to his hands. I wanted more but…

Someone else. Something flicked. Past memories. That touch across my face reminded me of my ex after our sixth month together. The other was like another ex. I started to cry. I must stop. I’ve gone too far. It’s not what I wanted. The website. The results. The…

The loud honk ended with a loud BANG as my body felt a sharp pain shooting across my body. It was nothing compared to my aching heart.

It was over. The lights shimmered and dimmed. The concerned face looking at me and shouting frantically for help. The noise ebbing away. And I smiled.

**

Writer’s note: It’s really odd to call myself that but yes, I was in a trance when I wrote this. A spell-binding train of imagination. After a heavy meal at Jogoya (goodness me, it’s so expensive but how many times does a brother graduate?) my head felt like it emitted heat due to the little glass of red wine and a full glass of whatsitcalledagain with just a little ice (even my brother commented on the concentration). Then on the journey back, I found myself talking louder, more and laughing in a more generous manner. Somewhat like my good ol’ self two years back.

I wouldn’t consider myself drunk.

Would you?

Unidentified flying object

To my dear sister who ages so ever gracefully *hehe*

Blessed Twentieeeee-ONE!

Not all younger sisters have the splendid opportunity to have an elder sister who is just as wacky. Or sometimes even more!

ps: wordpress doesn’t want me to post a silly picture of you. oh well…

Top 10 things I’ll probably tell my kids about what WE did as kids.

1. Toe painting (materials: cup, brush, water)

2. Get bullied by Kor when we played lego (me= shopkeeper/ bad guy)

3. Drape ourselves with towels and pretended to host a program, in front of the mirror (where’s my blue blanket eh?)

4. Getting me to list your BM tatabahasa work almost during SPM (I’m using them now )

5. Attempting to get Kor to wash the dishes or throw the trash (mission impossible- foong family edition)

6. Throwing the trash and scaring each other with fingers infested with zillions of bacteria (now daddy does it instead- throw the trash, not the scaring part)

7. Rushing to do the dishes, clean up and switch off the telly when mommy and daddy comes home after some meeting or event (mission impossible part 2) (me: open gate & delay entrance, you & kor : clear dishes & house)

8. Getting me to sign various papers and agreements *hehe*

9. Trying to teach me maths and physics

10. Talking until almost 4 in the morning and having to join a competition (me) and travel back to Ipoh (you)

The last 2 were quite recent tho.

Side note: My neck aches and I still need to figure a way to write an impactful scholarship essay. It’s like trying to figure out what to eat for breakfast when you’ve just had a heavy dinner. I still prefer the toilet expression. Prague is quite far isn’t it? Well, thank goodness for the internet!

Deep Blue

Chinese man girl say:

“People who are like sticky tape, get stuck like icky tape. Very messy ending!”

It’s about time I spot a rainbow again.

Bread Crumbs

Like a shrub in the forest. Silent. Small.

Like a leaf from the shrub. Tiny. Frail.

Like the droplet of water on the leaf.

Pretty insignificant.

THBT Married Women Should Not Work

You don’t have to read the first paragraph. I am certain that you will read it, nevertheless or at the very least smirk after taking a swift glance at it.

I think I’m having a serious rampant attack of hormones signalling my monthly due and my poor primary and secondary follicle cell’s hard work going down the  drain. Not much of a drain tho.

I’m officially RETIRED! Yessir. No more tie, badge, white skirt (prone to stains of all sorts, I’m a klutz with a capital K!). I’m free, liberated and have time FINALLY for myself during recess. Plus the 40 days fast and prayer is about to begin. Perfect timing-o.

Here’s a little sneak peak into my little journey as a prefect for 4 years. My main objective after pestering the teachers in Form 1 that I was interested in joining the board was driven by 2 facts. 1. I wanted to serve the school. 2. I needed a uniform body club. So with that I embarked on a 4 year mission meeting really interesting people, carving my personality at the same time.Boy, was I thin and tomboy-ish. But I was thin and light and … thin… *haha* I tried my best to avoid siding any cliques and getting involved with the politics practiced in the board. Sadly, I have to state that my maturity only grew with acceleration when I started to involve myself in debate. I guess that the board has many areas that requires improvement. However, I cannot deny that I indeed have gain priceless experience from my participation in the activities and duties of a prefect. And like anything else, I would not want to exchange the little memories gained throughout the duration of service.

Now, it’s Editorial Board left, and I’m gonna have to place ALL my attention to her and savour every single moment (even with ones that Aaron comes in screams my name and chases me around to throw a big bear hug AND Puan Chan being fustrated AND YuLi and Pei She announcing aloud that they have an urgent nature calling to attend to AND Adrian being Adrian and Louise speaking really quickly, my brains are about to burst).

Right, so here goes nothing, and everything.

ps: Get well soon, Louise

pps: Becca, I MISS YOU LOADDSSS!!

ppps: The haze is really bad. I feel like purchasing an oxygen tank and mask.

pppps: I’m back to my fiction diet AND The Flying Scotsman by Quinn Fawcett is sooooooo nice!

So NOT Doing Kai Boon’s Tag (:

My opinion, versus her opinion. But nowhere in that tangle is there a pure, hard fact.

- Ian Fletcher

Keeping Faith by Jodi Picoult

Alright, so a kind senior popped into the room and blew us away with his blunt comments and opinions on the way we are running things. So some of us analysed the situation in two different methods. Firstly, some were quite disgruntled and unhappy as some of the crude remarks were directed to them. Others, took the criticism, mentally dissected it and came out with the possible core points and reasons of the comments.

I will now address the first group as people as Group 1 and the latter, as logically, Group 2.

In Group 1, there were a range of different responses. While some were extremely ticked off and stared addressing the senior with rather rude names, there was also some who hid under the wrath of the aggravated people. They will be known henceforth as Sly1. Sly1 would tease and mock people who tried to  be rationalist- Group 2. There were personal attacks which I think was rather immature and it surprisingly came out from the mouth of a seventeen year old! There were also people who were mad to a certain extend and thankfully, realised that over-vexing themselves with consistent ranting will not improve the situation.

In Group 2, the few people attempted to reason out to Group 1 on the possible real reasons behind the unexpected remarks.

Everyone would want to have their bite when it comes to a  delicious meal of slandering comments, it’s normal human nature in this dog eat dog world today. The only way up, is to push others down. Newton’s Third Law, you see?

With the freedom of speech practiced so devotedly by almost everyone, it is not surprising to find people who undertake the character of the victims. Insults thrown over the various forms of media available, it is inevitable to not collide with another person’s principle.

However, the practice of freedom of speech has indeed brought much change to the world. But I cannot simply conclude that the liberty to voice out our heartfelt emotions and thoughts itself is positive or constuctive in anyway. A piece of wood cannot be formed into a chair nor can a plain canvas magically become a painting. On my opinion, it is the reaction towards the words that made the difference. I can crap here all I want and come out with really motivating stuff. But all the change starts when the person who reads this, analyses my crappy “motivating” post, and takes it into action. It was not Obama who brought change to the US which lead to a global domino-effect. It was the people who voted.

I would rather have plain criticism over praises coated with a thick layer of dishonesty and lies, anyday.

At least, I’ll grow in that manner to become or at least be given the opportunity to attempt to become a better person.

What about you?

ps: I’m a ENFJ! So was Martin Luther King, Jr. (:

ENFJ Population
Total: 3% (Endangered species. Handle with care!)
Male: 1.5%
Female: 4.5%