tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87928405720786551952024-03-12T17:08:37.489-07:00The Random Life Of a Malaysian Boy!Anything, anytime, anywhere. :)Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger106125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-68820520049208224332014-05-26T11:02:00.002-07:002014-05-26T11:02:49.586-07:00Visiting Sri Lanka - Day 2: Of Schools & Children's SmilesWe visited the school today. As we rode on the one-hour ride, I fell asleep while our tour guide, Fernando explained to us a brief history of Sri Lanka. Some fun facts I managed to catch: Sri Lanka is divided into 9 provinces, and Buddhism is a major philosophy that is practised here, as Fernando puts it. The green fields made way for scattered brick houses and barren ground before we reached the school.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaTF7lfDKA9Cx1Z_k2L_fOv7Czqek63bjwid0VwMx-qgsxtS_pX0TKFk796yyyZd8XqVMW-od_ehHTpv7ccEGVkPVKDY_tH7KruJdzLkm-Ib8zoDfccXglOOaAbPS6JSfxJBQNGlhBREc/s1600/photo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaTF7lfDKA9Cx1Z_k2L_fOv7Czqek63bjwid0VwMx-qgsxtS_pX0TKFk796yyyZd8XqVMW-od_ehHTpv7ccEGVkPVKDY_tH7KruJdzLkm-Ib8zoDfccXglOOaAbPS6JSfxJBQNGlhBREc/s1600/photo1.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fernando doesn't know why the provinces are numbered in this order.</td></tr>
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<br /> It was a two-storey building surrounded a few small buildings. The school only accommodate 90 students, ranging from 7-year-olds to preteens. They gathered at the science lab, where all the tables were stacked to one side. The kids smiled shyly at us, staring with awe at the people who came in adorning vibrant <i>baju melayu</i> and <i>baju kurung</i>. While we waited for the Sri Lanka Malays Association members to arrive, we started chatting with them. One boy was called Rilwan. Some of the boys were in Grade 5. They all huddled gleefully together, watching their friend play games on <i>abangs</i>' and <i>akaks</i>' phones. Their mouths widened from ear to ear for the cameras.<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_YTZAUD3FvEuogTePywKvoGD6jArV4j8LPgvcGX5NoaI4nT0ZTwDi2LCl-1CjehgOsW8GldyspRwLaiwgej82STy2C5Rolw7l8WNFAzWoNvqTuE1pnWQasQIRmnG1123aDLENU85HgQ/s1600/photo2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_YTZAUD3FvEuogTePywKvoGD6jArV4j8LPgvcGX5NoaI4nT0ZTwDi2LCl-1CjehgOsW8GldyspRwLaiwgej82STy2C5Rolw7l8WNFAzWoNvqTuE1pnWQasQIRmnG1123aDLENU85HgQ/s1600/photo2.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a> I broke away from the crowd to explore more of the place. I entered the class nearest to the lab. It was a small room, with small multicoloured chairs and tables. The wall on the back was full of papers with Tamils words scrawled on them. Placed underneath were handmade telephones, which made me smile. I rarely see this back home, where all the kids their age have smartphones glues to their hands, ridding them of their imagination and fun. I walked around farther, finding classes with only 5 sets of tables and chairs.</div>
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Spending some time with the schoolchildren made me ponder. They don't have much to call their own. Their school is old and unkempt. The books are scarce. They don't have any modern gadgets. And yet they are still able to smile and have fun. They don't complain about what they're lacking. The youthful spark is burning in them. It made me think of the times I moan bout not having what I wanted, and how we would sometimes complain about our 'outdated facilities'. If there was just one thing I was able to gain from today, it is the renewed sense of appreciation I have for what I have.</div>
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Fun Fact #2: Architecture in Sri Lanka is based on astrology, according to Fernando. It's similar to how the Chinese would refer to <i>feng shui</i>. Sri Lankan Buddhists would usually look at the blueprints of the houses to pinpoint its good and bad signs. For instance, it is never a good thing to place a well near the window, as it would allow your fortune to slip away easily. It's a good thing Malaysian architecture isn't as fussy.</div>
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That's it from me today. Remember to always count your blessings.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The science lab.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls performing.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mosque next to the school. Note the lack of a dome.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's amazing what you can make with imagination.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">U'yun & Shazwan walking with Fernando the tourist guide.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMAjLGiILXgSx2wMPsJcazOBrA1Gk8uZ364kiqpbBXWT5NZshk7KVWwP_qmSztwIbwGZMhnNYKiHZMnIYv50u4ddxtREKBCgev3vowQt66nBMsHbqkrJEaiPhqEyab-FFxEW2gceY-Hzs/s1600/photo1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMAjLGiILXgSx2wMPsJcazOBrA1Gk8uZ364kiqpbBXWT5NZshk7KVWwP_qmSztwIbwGZMhnNYKiHZMnIYv50u4ddxtREKBCgev3vowQt66nBMsHbqkrJEaiPhqEyab-FFxEW2gceY-Hzs/s1600/photo1.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Today’s the day we finally fly to Sri Lanka; the last stepping stone of
our humanitarian project, Bridging the Gap. What is Bridging the Gap all about?
It's basically a class project to help the people of Sri Lanka. You can check
out more by visiting BTG's Facebook page <a href="https://www.facebook.com/bridgingthegapmalaysiasrilanka?fref=ts" target="_blank">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> I woke up late today. It would have been fine, if not for the fact
that we had a flight to catch. And then it went slightly downhill. Our luggage
exceeded the limit given at the baggage drop, resulting in us having to bring
half of our bags onto the plane. I got half of my toiletries confiscated
because of this (Don't blame me if I spend my following days looking
dishevelled). On the upside, being in this situation really helps in teaching
me to be patient and coolheaded. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpPyeu8f0R0TGhIewzUlh7mzzcqFlamATgz1j1HLGv6ghWU7kt6PfxphCXB5Hv42CIJf936ktGZkc_oBhDBISgWdkRFAbLuGMdt8gavXW9ZsKaGloZkYxwnZPurI0V0XSqhOkOuqc7k4/s1600/photo5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPpPyeu8f0R0TGhIewzUlh7mzzcqFlamATgz1j1HLGv6ghWU7kt6PfxphCXB5Hv42CIJf936ktGZkc_oBhDBISgWdkRFAbLuGMdt8gavXW9ZsKaGloZkYxwnZPurI0V0XSqhOkOuqc7k4/s1600/photo5.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The Sri Lankan heat blasted at me by surprise, though the welcome
given which is just as warm was expected. It felt just like Malaysia. The
sights that passed by the window on the way to lunch also had a kampong vibe
which then gave way to a more Muar-like atmosphere. I was amazed at how much it
feels like home. We then spent 6 hours dozing off in the bus as we set off for
Hanbantota, the district where we will spend most of our week in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Highlight of the day</b>: When the plane landed, the air crew handed out arrival cards for foreigners to fill in and hand over to the immigration counter. As the steward walked through the aisle, he looked at me. I expected him to give me one, since I was a Malaysian.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">He left, thinking that I was a Sri Lankan. *cries*</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"> And that’s it for me today. Take a look at the photos I took below. There'll be more posted by the BTG team at our Facebook page, so stay tuned. Pray
for our success. Over and out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going to Sri Lanka on a hangul-covered plane.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejGCN9PHmX3THhG9bdU1McOL9czFgqCTq43lUSrXji_m82FtTC_1do3Fz0ntl7Ds3QvxZMJU30ZgbrYwnas4SAPbUkrLUSdvP6hna2uNM8rnCTLBbzpgOsy-a2-UhbU6hph6v5fGqOho/s1600/photo4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejGCN9PHmX3THhG9bdU1McOL9czFgqCTq43lUSrXji_m82FtTC_1do3Fz0ntl7Ds3QvxZMJU30ZgbrYwnas4SAPbUkrLUSdvP6hna2uNM8rnCTLBbzpgOsy-a2-UhbU6hph6v5fGqOho/s1600/photo4.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The gateway to the rest of the world.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXwhYMCeIDVRaqKXtSItomId0tiyfxcGxoyNIlBDgjvIX9IgNg5N6zX8yLzARWMQqfzBP1-oI4ir3y5XdXtANQUXq_jW-X7JDOQn2NyQvd5bWCCF4jT6CnJdZXVmxLd_wzFHSyX24gQw/s1600/photo6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXwhYMCeIDVRaqKXtSItomId0tiyfxcGxoyNIlBDgjvIX9IgNg5N6zX8yLzARWMQqfzBP1-oI4ir3y5XdXtANQUXq_jW-X7JDOQn2NyQvd5bWCCF4jT6CnJdZXVmxLd_wzFHSyX24gQw/s1600/photo6.jpg" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh wow, I've always wanted the chance to buy expensive Milo.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaczWw2-lxh_ZX1qOZG-P7VH1Zto9AwG7G7mNIqQU_D0T830nhYRZ1EGcSVjyzxDYazrHieATwVyhGMEESfHZwR1KZktgcKgMG056GY3uJ0rrfX89wZd6BaWBl8lgoDmN7yL2yurKFic/s1600/photo7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAaczWw2-lxh_ZX1qOZG-P7VH1Zto9AwG7G7mNIqQU_D0T830nhYRZ1EGcSVjyzxDYazrHieATwVyhGMEESfHZwR1KZktgcKgMG056GY3uJ0rrfX89wZd6BaWBl8lgoDmN7yL2yurKFic/s1600/photo7.jpg" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls having a photoshoot session while waiting for the others.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-31248880896775702172014-03-25T09:16:00.000-07:002014-03-25T09:37:25.465-07:00ADZ<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all have friends.
Friends who you hang out with. Friends who get into trouble with you. Friends
who are there with you when you are happy. But do you have a friend who makes
you feel very special, someone whom you can share all your darkest secrets
with?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The funny thing is, I
never thought I’d be friends with him. AT ALL. The earliest memory of him was
in 2011. I was being a busybody, visiting each class instead of studying. Then
I heard someone calling my name. “Ash!” I was surprised to see him. He looked
like what I call a gangster. Honestly speaking, he scared me. He wanted me to
have a look at his story. He was soft-spoken, which took me aback. It was about
Nazis and war and that mushy thing called ‘romance’. It was nice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And just like that,
we clicked. I don’t remember how we got close, but Alhamdulillah, I’m glad we
did. He was with me through the ups and downs of my school life. He was the
reason I cried. He was the reason I laughed. We have loads of things in common;
we’re both the eldest, we have similar names. He’s one of the kindest people I’ve
ever met, he’s down-to-earth, and he’s wonderful. He is my confidant, my
advisor, my John Watson, my shoulder to cry on whenever I’m down in the dumps.
I would do anything for him, and he’d do the same for me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He’s my best friend. And he is the best thing that has ever
come into my life.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPSrBFfHT0CVs5fr2SmH7_pyTewt5ADjN6e_nSwoOXDsIZRa6GoZK-aZ3zEnFbNb_elceVO_01emD75GxlsD-b8r_jjEr2Albr4HQaEI8N5jLGK3YERARIOTbmP2ZstKcqkRQFq4U7oqQ/s1600/Acap+15.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPSrBFfHT0CVs5fr2SmH7_pyTewt5ADjN6e_nSwoOXDsIZRa6GoZK-aZ3zEnFbNb_elceVO_01emD75GxlsD-b8r_jjEr2Albr4HQaEI8N5jLGK3YERARIOTbmP2ZstKcqkRQFq4U7oqQ/s1600/Acap+15.png" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This year's present: a sucky-but-from-the-heart painting.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> To Ashraaf Danial
Zakaria, if you’re reading this, I just want you to know that you are one of my
closest friends. I consider you part of my family already. You will always be
my best friend. I hope it’ll last forever (I’ll make sure of that.) I'm sorry
if I have ever hurt your feelings. And I didn't buy you anything. :( But hey, the painting is sentimental. :) I hope you cry reading this, hahaha; it’s very hard
to put this into words. And always remember that I have your back as well. I
wish you all the best in life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUTqyp70qvHcigxiPnKR32jrk1brgLOwailv3gn7Wltv0dy6z8SkSHUqwH2F_RGWqervJGq0t_qkF3BWUAgU2C_eQNZh67spEn4FJOzhlmJw9WqpoMC45ycB5mMHST_awmgRzd0ngz1Q/s1600/Acap+Den+and+I+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPUTqyp70qvHcigxiPnKR32jrk1brgLOwailv3gn7Wltv0dy6z8SkSHUqwH2F_RGWqervJGq0t_qkF3BWUAgU2C_eQNZh67spEn4FJOzhlmJw9WqpoMC45ycB5mMHST_awmgRzd0ngz1Q/s1600/Acap+Den+and+I+1.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ash and Ash. (I'm obviously the hotter Ash.) (The one at the left.)</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-68807551105254473842014-01-30T08:35:00.000-08:002014-01-30T08:35:07.837-08:005 Items I Would Grab From A Burning House<div class="MsoNormal">
First of all, I would like to say that the original title in the writing prompt was a bit different.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcyoAR59z9Z3MJMcLOjeMPiJw6nsi7fqcNPFjVGBJBNi7iERW190GFBJYjAqItZT2eab2hwZW86PoUV2fXfcBQYKiE-NldNb-ktJt8bW-gOFmOrlerdh4Vc6hDzoEuardLpjM2at2ZO8/s1600/Prompt+-+Jan+30+2014.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcyoAR59z9Z3MJMcLOjeMPiJw6nsi7fqcNPFjVGBJBNi7iERW190GFBJYjAqItZT2eab2hwZW86PoUV2fXfcBQYKiE-NldNb-ktJt8bW-gOFmOrlerdh4Vc6hDzoEuardLpjM2at2ZO8/s1600/Prompt+-+Jan+30+2014.png" height="102" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The funny thing is that the prompt title instructs and assumes that I would willingly burn down my house.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Gee, thanks, writing prompt. At least I can prepare myself
in case it ever happens, not that I wish for it to be, good heavens no. Let’s
start.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>1) Identification Records</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m assuming a majority of you would dash for your shiny electronic
gadgets at the slightest hint of danger, because we all know how social media
is our life, and how we would die painfully should our social connections be
severed by raging fire. I understand perfectly; I’m an addict. But if I were to
think it through, it’d be a wise decision to save your documents (Birth
certificates, identification cards etc.) first, because your life depends on
your identity. And if you have no proof of whom you are, then YOU DEAD. :O Your
life would probably be a struggle, seeing as how humankind nowadays is very
much paranoid and sceptical with identities. It’d be hard to find a job,
education, you get the gist.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>2) Wallet</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Money logically comes after identification. Because...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Nothing in the world is free.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
– Someone who apparently has to
pay to breathe air</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But seriously, you need these colourful papers to trade it
for food and shelter, in other words, survival. You can always steal, but y’know,
morals and so on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3) Phone & Laptop</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yeah, there are two items in one. Hey, for all you know,
they might be at the same place when the house burned down. *shifty eyes* Well,
like I said before, gadgets are very important in at least my life, if not
everyone’s. I thrive off online gossip and mindless chatter. I crave for social
interaction. My hand feels lonely without my phone constantly glued to my palm.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, and my work is stored in my lappy. I guess that’s a more
plausible reason to save them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
4) Box of Memories</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Technically, my box of memories does not exist (yet), but
thinking about all the small trinkets of the past I would be losing to the self-inflicted
flames, I might as well stuff all of them in one container. Yesh, I am a
sentimental person. I cling on to memories very dearly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5) Books</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am a book lover. Must I elaborate on how I would do
anything to keep my books?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I guess that’s 5 items that I would save from my burning
house. Truth be told, I never expected my books to be in the list. .___. I
shall now have a day to look around the house and ponder about things that I
could’ve saved from the fire.<!--[endif]--></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So ask yourself: What would you grab from a burning house?</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-51355375318546574772014-01-03T08:34:00.002-08:002014-01-03T08:34:18.208-08:00Ushering In a New Year with A LetterHAPPY NEW YEAR!<br />
<br />
Yeah, I know it's 4 days late. But hey, better late than never, I <strike>always</strike> <strike>sometimes</strike> <strike>rarely</strike> say. So how was the past few days for you all? I had gotten a friend's confession (Bromance, yeah~!) and catzoned within first two hours of the year, so I can say I had a pretty awesome start. It's different from all the 18 other 1st Januarys I had so far. (Of course, all of them are unique in their own way, but meh.)<br />
<br />
This year, I decided to start the year in a different direction. Instead of just ushering 2014 lazing about and grumbling about the distant fireworks, I thought it'd be nice to write a letter to someone special.<br />
<br />
Myself.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZ0mXsH47w7lWpJIloIA-ln7PcQWcc0D7HvfTtb1WI9TMf7yb1g5c-YwVt1sB8LqXXXgblaed4Ql29wUVTvwedxE7AgGS3g_KihYCJdv7RSkLrPLKuojiAStjRKZLlvUX-LAj294eAJc/s1600/Letter+No1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNZ0mXsH47w7lWpJIloIA-ln7PcQWcc0D7HvfTtb1WI9TMf7yb1g5c-YwVt1sB8LqXXXgblaed4Ql29wUVTvwedxE7AgGS3g_KihYCJdv7RSkLrPLKuojiAStjRKZLlvUX-LAj294eAJc/s320/Letter+No1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Handwritten letters are not my forte.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Ha, gotcha. You'd really think I have a significant other? If so, then may your wish come true. Yeah so, I decided to write a letter to my future self. Scribbling down questions and hopes so I can answer them when the year gives way to 2015. Why did I write a letter until 2AM, resulting in the anxiety of a mother who woke up to find her son doing something silently in the wee hours of the day?<br />
<br />
I am not really sure myself. Probably it was the desire of walking down memory lane as I read the letter in a year's time stirring up in me. I just had the idea in my head out of nowhere. But writing down what I wanted to achieve in a year's time to myself did boost my spirit, even if it's just a little. It was partly due to not wanting to be ashamed of my past self.<br />
<br />
I know. Other people would just write down their goals and stick them on the wall where they could see it 24/7. But where is the fun in that?<br />
<br />
While carrying out this project of mine, a thought crossed my mind. "Hey, it'd be nicer if there were others joining in this plan with you." And now here we are. I would like it if you, the awesome reader of this blog, wrote a letter to your future self. It'll be fun, I promise. And you won't be alone, for I am here,<strike> so you wouldn't feel bad about yourself should people call you a freak for doing so.</strike> Write your letter any way you want. Just as long as it's readable, and will be able to last a full year without disintegrating into tiny atoms.<br />
<br />
Tell me if you're also doing this; just write a simple note in the comments. Or any other ways possible, if you know me personally (I hear telepathy is the rage now.) <br />
<br />
I'll be looking forward to hear from anyone.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3PRfnbhLXusnRxCsonSGlvifaPW4Wx5YHzYaZo_-a7KbZJfQ4PGp1ByI2YHcvfg5orLHc7sBUfVAQY4TnMmbRfyfWkfs27-OVXAL6GZUBgTP3ufTgbupeGK7OgoCkRtkmthIuimubls/s1600/Letter+No2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW3PRfnbhLXusnRxCsonSGlvifaPW4Wx5YHzYaZo_-a7KbZJfQ4PGp1ByI2YHcvfg5orLHc7sBUfVAQY4TnMmbRfyfWkfs27-OVXAL6GZUBgTP3ufTgbupeGK7OgoCkRtkmthIuimubls/s320/Letter+No2.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yeah, it doesn't have to be handwritten. You can type it out, fine by me.<br /> I KNOW MY WRITING IS UGLYYYYYY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-64453285894414830152013-12-11T07:14:00.002-08:002013-12-11T07:14:49.001-08:00Giving In Ain't Defeat<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Hello there, people. I’m on a month-long break from the
hectic college life. And you know how the average day is like when you’re on
holiday: Wake up, pray, eat, take a nap, stare at your phones and lappies, not
focusing on the telly, being cooped up at home, scared that the sunlight will
burn your pale skin. What, your day’s not like that? Lucky you. I’m imprisoned
in my own home. It’s not my family’s fault. My friends are just not on holiday
like I am. And I'm just too lazy to go out on my own. Besides, being with family ain’t so bad. We bond over game nights.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Om-NqMlHG4P7qGlEiQ6FLMjkqcXJRQP7NdeCzZfiA-oQARX6w5xUaQyDyIa_wKkzCXPl-rSl7TJNxC7isUu-ssQVXnKHybGibleGco-4SXCEmr6casWkZJMwTy2tEK1xEMlk6u58xOo/s1600/IMG_6337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Om-NqMlHG4P7qGlEiQ6FLMjkqcXJRQP7NdeCzZfiA-oQARX6w5xUaQyDyIa_wKkzCXPl-rSl7TJNxC7isUu-ssQVXnKHybGibleGco-4SXCEmr6casWkZJMwTy2tEK1xEMlk6u58xOo/s320/IMG_6337.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can really feel our bonds strengthening. RELATIONSHIP LVL UP</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And one of the things I have to bear with is Mom’s pearls of
wisdom. Usually I’d just nod along to whatever advice she throws randomly. But
most of them, if not all of them is very much helpful. Like that one time <strike>out
of countless other moments</strike> my little brother and I scrambled for the front seat
of the car. Yes, I know it’s childish. My mom noticed the disastrous scene
breaking out and decided to pull me slowly out of the scuffle, letting my
little brother enter. My heart was boiling, especially when I saw him sticking
his tongue at me. I stared at my mom, waiting for an explanation.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> She said: ‘You’re 18 already. Just give in to your little
brother. It doesn't mean you lost. It just means you’re thinking of others.’</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Now, I didn't read much into her counsel, because I was so
full of emotions. But for the past few days, I finally see what she meant. To
tell you the whole story in detail would probably take 2 to 3 pages, so I’ll
just sum it up. One of my circles of friends is in what you can call ‘a
negotiating period’ over a project. I became the middle person (I felt obliged
to do so.) And what I witnessed was touching. One thing you have to know was
that the main reason the group split into two very VERY stubborn sides was because
of the disagreement of the location. And one girl, L was very enthusiastic over
the initial location.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> But she decided to let her wish go, for the sake of unity.
She was willing to change location, just so everyone would be in this together.
‘Oh, it’s just a small thing.’ I hear you sigh. I don’t consider a feeling of
excitement and dreamy wonder to be a small thing. To give up something you
wanted so badly for somebody else is not a foolish matter. My mom’s words
vibrated in my mind. She was very mature in handling this problem.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And now, I shall leave you a quote to ponder upon:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Giving in to people is not a sign of weakness. If it’s for a
better future, it is an act of selflessness.</b></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Neat, huh? Wanna use it, cite it back to yours truly. Yes, I
created it. Is it a sign of me finally catching up to my age? No. The day I will be
considered mature arrives when I will not fight over the front seat with my siblings.<br />
<br />
And that day will probably never come.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-75675326820807203832013-11-01T10:02:00.001-07:002013-11-01T10:04:00.115-07:00Tell Your Loved Ones<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> So recently, a tragedy befell Malaysian land. (Other than
the increase of prices.) If you were nowhere near any source of information
during the past two weeks, possibly due to a temporary allergy, let me catch
you up to speed; <a href="http://www.thestar.com.my/News/Nation/2013/10/23/security-guard-shoots-woman-in-head.aspx" target="_blank">a female Ambank officer was coldheartedly shot in the face bya security guard in his attempt to steal the money in the safe</a>. Don’t be ashamed if you
just found out through me; be glad that you didn’t find it out my way – Staring
at the explicitly gory picture of the deceased as it popped up in a WhatsApp
chat.<br />
<br />
The picture found its way into my phone, not once, not twice, but THRICE. It’s
as if people knew I deleted the horrid stuff from my phone and thought, ‘Hey,
let’s send him a pic.’ Why people rush in sharing such a picture is beyond me. It’s
just disrespectful for the deceased and her family.<br />
<br /> Anyways, that picture isn’t the reason why I wrote this post (I ain't here to spread gore). It’s this
picture:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sad story <a href="http://t.co/0VJwIwo1S1">pic.twitter.com/0VJwIwo1S1</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">— Sampah Remaja (@SampahRemajaKL) <a href="https://twitter.com/SampahRemajaKL/statuses/393620519968202752">October 25, 2013</a></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> For those of you who still hasn’t figured it out yet, that’s
the unfortunate woman’s husband. What really struck me was this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>'I should have told her I loved her there and then. Now it's too late.'</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> You can really feel his regret, caused by a decision that will haunt him for years to come. His words really hit home. And I cried as I stared at this photo. It made me realise my own lack of contact with my parents. It made me think about the times where I was too caught up in college activities to call them once in a while.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Let this be a reminder that we don't live forever, and neither do your loved ones. Don't take them for granted. Don't ever think they'll always be there when you need them. Remember to always show them your love toward them, before it's too late.<br /><br /> And a reminder to all; I beg you, please don't forward the horrific pictures and videos of the incident to others. It's already too much for the family of the deceased to handle her death. The last thing they need is a constant reminder of how she left this world. If you still have the urge to share something, share the picture above, and remind them to tell their loved ones how much they love them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Al-Fatihah. May her soul be placed among the pious.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-2305990030517722162013-08-05T23:24:00.000-07:002014-05-25T23:52:38.892-07:00Taking a Look Around MARA College Banting (KMB)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
vWhat’s up, people? I hope you had a lovely time cursing me
for being very late with the updates. But hey, this time I actually have a
plausible reason (There’s a first time for everything.). I have entered
college. *cue low-quality clap track* Yes guys, I've embarked on a two-year journey on
the International Baccalaureate programme, getting ever so close towards my
dreams of flying overseas.</div>
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Now before we start, I’d like to show you a picture of a
college:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE00FgqK5Rd7bUsYdr4jif8CZ49YukU1E57G6SX5tajPjaRjBqBtaZQaEfcOUZHs4wW-0p1pdK-QVXmQ1vYtEbXKYnOkQh64gM6eW4wfXFkpbJk50kS6USuI67q3oihSJC_Gg9tL-JOtk/s1600/b_19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE00FgqK5Rd7bUsYdr4jif8CZ49YukU1E57G6SX5tajPjaRjBqBtaZQaEfcOUZHs4wW-0p1pdK-QVXmQ1vYtEbXKYnOkQh64gM6eW4wfXFkpbJk50kS6USuI67q3oihSJC_Gg9tL-JOtk/s1600/b_19.jpg" height="123" width="320" /></a></div>
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Isn’t it a beauty? The site practically screams
high-class education with all the state-of-the-art facilities and equipment
(Not to mention the exuberant price that comes along with it.). You’d wanna
study there just by ogling the image, right? I wish I’d be able to study there
too.</div>
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What’s that you say? Don’t I study there, in that
awesome-looking building? No no, you’re mistaken. I'm just showing you a
picture of A college. Never said it was MY college. Power of sentence
structures, guys, never underestimate it. No, THIS is my college:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>School haters will suffer.</i></td></tr>
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I know, why does MARA
College Banting look like a boarding school stuck in time? Well, that’s because
it WAS a boarding school, MRSM Banting to be exact, before it died, allowing us
to live on its remnants. And technically, we are categorised as a school.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>World schoo: Someone's attempt of denying the fact</i></td></tr>
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But we’re a WORLD SCHOOL. One of the top ones in the world, as a matter of
fact. So say what you want. Haters be hating. I be getting the best.</div>
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Enough with the intro. Let’s get on with the tour:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wQ72J0yEfb3moKkjxlEiCm8lrkzRvilPsAqHaWQo4rZLQJkILU-FhTuDORJcT93fCndaexJRUcIGKN23CkaOvgAH1fR4eLS5bmIDNyD0JJ4gwG4Kh6tqxp2rPKkf1QoSJnHOPJsDdbI/s1600/P8020033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wQ72J0yEfb3moKkjxlEiCm8lrkzRvilPsAqHaWQo4rZLQJkILU-FhTuDORJcT93fCndaexJRUcIGKN23CkaOvgAH1fR4eLS5bmIDNyD0JJ4gwG4Kh6tqxp2rPKkf1QoSJnHOPJsDdbI/s320/P8020033.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is the entrance to my beloved awesome college. It looks pretty grand in my eyes.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6T5DNPDmmzTbHKknRuDoUY3LuWlQ6cLzko_SjIMX-WOKH7Gac_4IRbhM_Fzr9VDndFJAD8HABwkFp5era4r6q8CFlu-2NqPTJVA5ZUAMoFHrhyThcq5udq63EaWCL3hzgDSmt1L6Gf0/s1600/P8020039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6T5DNPDmmzTbHKknRuDoUY3LuWlQ6cLzko_SjIMX-WOKH7Gac_4IRbhM_Fzr9VDndFJAD8HABwkFp5era4r6q8CFlu-2NqPTJVA5ZUAMoFHrhyThcq5udq63EaWCL3hzgDSmt1L6Gf0/s320/P8020039.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here we have the ATM machine, one of the most visited spots in MCB, due to the fact that your money can dwindle very fast, what with all the costly textbooks and projects. It is situated at the entrance, and is used by students and outsiders alike.</div>
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There are reports of paranormal sightings around the ATM. The description given by the locals is a female clad in white, from head to toe. Coincidentally, the hauntings occur around the same time as the conclusion of Isya' prayers.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZkf-aiIzy2MnwA4TB_FU6-P_MxJdMDtVaUM7c0GALI1LRGts1fN1givS5iBvv27jzoi2_dfCbnvn6znSVMCKWyLT6jSGvnB9V1X-fvpHYOMBoKikJKs1qgGSngacHvWm76ZinKKvGUk/s1600/P8010014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmZkf-aiIzy2MnwA4TB_FU6-P_MxJdMDtVaUM7c0GALI1LRGts1fN1givS5iBvv27jzoi2_dfCbnvn6znSVMCKWyLT6jSGvnB9V1X-fvpHYOMBoKikJKs1qgGSngacHvWm76ZinKKvGUk/s320/P8010014.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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A better (?) picture of the academic block. For those of you who hasn't guessed, this is where the classes are. The seniors told me that the classrooms aren't permanent, and they'll change the positions after a while ('A change of environment', they claim). This actually one part of the block. The new section is...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg953kMRstI2PoEHyj5IBWE7AQQ9-R-2dj6MOUQn8UPtrAV-vHH0r5qs_i2RqNfzSNQacuIrLq3bYQZouHHgEjXNOlKR2HLhlXFA-Ag3rCHTLSaXGQT5KRBFoqm-oayhCldneYYO42GioA/s1600/P8020030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg953kMRstI2PoEHyj5IBWE7AQQ9-R-2dj6MOUQn8UPtrAV-vHH0r5qs_i2RqNfzSNQacuIrLq3bYQZouHHgEjXNOlKR2HLhlXFA-Ag3rCHTLSaXGQT5KRBFoqm-oayhCldneYYO42GioA/s320/P8020030.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a> ... Right over here, next to the old one (Behind tree.) Unfortunately, my class is over in the old block, where there are only fans. The other architecture class (R13A), however, got placed here, so they are able to bask in the cool breeze of the air conditioner,all the while watching something on the brand-new TV. </div>
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Think it's just luck, eh? Remember what I said about the changing of classroom positions? Well, it happened earlier this week, and not only did my class stay at the old building, the new class is SMALLER. Worst part is, we were one class away from making it into the world of air-conditioning and TVs. The other class, stayed in the same building. Proof that R13A was the mastermind behind this cunning plan.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmDZwmntzGnMHdtkt07poFjT9lhTUKyh0LX5qDdEI3h5IHIRmk5D78LB5SEnPPgYt2ihO-xtux2AJcUBltlCbx5y7arVEkVayKB0zibV5ORqCOHiK3yKDbfUxybWVs-hUviFMOcmxAW4/s1600/P8010012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhmDZwmntzGnMHdtkt07poFjT9lhTUKyh0LX5qDdEI3h5IHIRmk5D78LB5SEnPPgYt2ihO-xtux2AJcUBltlCbx5y7arVEkVayKB0zibV5ORqCOHiK3yKDbfUxybWVs-hUviFMOcmxAW4/s320/P8010012.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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Here we have the main hall, which also doubles as a badminton court. The majority of the orientation week was spent here.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdozCVaN-JHzB0VNHR9wnAN5lpt0M-dkkqDB_Jre2Rq9SXpyEIA0qDxqGNEB0SVwSqq3Zbvz590CyrQgjvRLJc-KQvan40ibdvcWP3T9APajwYf_cQtDOrpYZSOiW73CV1dMm5hCg9Ec8/s1600/P7210536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdozCVaN-JHzB0VNHR9wnAN5lpt0M-dkkqDB_Jre2Rq9SXpyEIA0qDxqGNEB0SVwSqq3Zbvz590CyrQgjvRLJc-KQvan40ibdvcWP3T9APajwYf_cQtDOrpYZSOiW73CV1dMm5hCg9Ec8/s320/P7210536.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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This is one of my favourite spots. It's at the 2nd floor, and it's peaceful during the evenings, compared to the concourse. Until I can find a more secluded place, this will be where I find peace and sanity.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXuQqPFW0Qqge6vLGpnM47pl8-XvZUAxhbHpEzLgj9UjfRNZYokJqbmfCeiaAQy2g2G-5UzaXVYOKcThE8PPibRz4R0cG3udEIrwe05xWc40NrW0W9JMz_um00uVJKMx3owpEy76vQFo/s1600/P7210538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXuQqPFW0Qqge6vLGpnM47pl8-XvZUAxhbHpEzLgj9UjfRNZYokJqbmfCeiaAQy2g2G-5UzaXVYOKcThE8PPibRz4R0cG3udEIrwe05xWc40NrW0W9JMz_um00uVJKMx3owpEy76vQFo/s320/P7210538.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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There's some construction going on at the back. They say it's for the floating classes (Classes who do not have a fixed classroom.) Who is this 'they' that I keep mentioning? Ah, that's a secret.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsdqtcJkAbJhMeUyR-obOal0wpQrVBRzkbMbysRylXeE9O1zPBuN-9dwkqsb_G6VXyuL8QdxMfjPqp5bwmFjsJWyjMmrNga9f_4LDc5TVnBdVloVy5W5ek9NlIfAp35NkizdJn6WD7T4/s1600/P7210542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsdqtcJkAbJhMeUyR-obOal0wpQrVBRzkbMbysRylXeE9O1zPBuN-9dwkqsb_G6VXyuL8QdxMfjPqp5bwmFjsJWyjMmrNga9f_4LDc5TVnBdVloVy5W5ek9NlIfAp35NkizdJn6WD7T4/s320/P7210542.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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The 1Malaysia plain.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjmMraVo5swB2-E9NQAWOhuF165FK5t1wQmUDLP30H-49rlBhWQKiMKm1fxsmXAllOOilx-9n3LB6q8K68ru3nF94nGZIJfXNeehHJYPORfB5jVRUHWtQWrYGPq8BSA-vbBnfJMzpjiM/s1600/P7200519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrjmMraVo5swB2-E9NQAWOhuF165FK5t1wQmUDLP30H-49rlBhWQKiMKm1fxsmXAllOOilx-9n3LB6q8K68ru3nF94nGZIJfXNeehHJYPORfB5jVRUHWtQWrYGPq8BSA-vbBnfJMzpjiM/s320/P7200519.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>This door here is located at the back of the small campus. It's current use is to pave the way to <strike>Narnia</strike> the nearest Ramadhan bazaar which is usually held during... You guessed it, the month of Ramadhan.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZqqHXBdjnaGFc5TOlsCRS_To0p6KvapTnzWZzVzDC-I1IUa8NBmQRD-Bm41w3JANqzkHmlniVwoLtiD3fEfTgT3u2LxO_RLq-AQLQXUfAWQNOCDG7zvxtKiYCVBwJj9iya-_iBDZatc/s1600/P7210551.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZqqHXBdjnaGFc5TOlsCRS_To0p6KvapTnzWZzVzDC-I1IUa8NBmQRD-Bm41w3JANqzkHmlniVwoLtiD3fEfTgT3u2LxO_RLq-AQLQXUfAWQNOCDG7zvxtKiYCVBwJj9iya-_iBDZatc/s320/P7210551.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>And this here is the BBQ thingy. (Sorry, I forgot what it's really called.) Can be used for any event. You need to book for usage. 'But I dunno how to BBQ!' Don't you fret, incompetent little child. For just a small amount of money (per person) Someone will prepare the whole feast for you~!<br />
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When it's said like that, it doesn't seem fun, does it? It's nicer to try BBQing on your own. At least you can say you did it as you munch at the burnt products. As they say, money can't buy experience.<br />
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The Music Room. The Music Club frequently gather and practice here. It is advisable not to disturb them during practice. I learnt that the hard way. As usual.<br />
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This here is the recreation centre. You can play squash and ping pong, or hit the gym. </div>
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*<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Gee, now that there's a free gym at a walking distance, there should be no excuses not to lift weights, right Ash? Right right rig-</span></i>* Ahahaha, keep telling yourself that, brain.</div>
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Oh. Did I mention we have KFC here? See, even though we're situated in the middle of nowhere, we do have some nice things around the campus.</div>
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<b><u>KOLEJ FOOD COURT (KFC)</u></b></div>
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Now, off to the dorms~ The whole student body is divided into 6 blocks, with boys occupying Blocks A, B and C, and girls conquering Blocks D, E, and F. Of course, the 6 blocks are separated by a road, boys and girls on each side. Only our morality keeps us from going over to the other side and do the unthinkable.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>That, and possibly an invisible force field that turns on at night.</i></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDkaYht9l83INLjvybRdKP7O9YPdp89WvEHIUIuss-Z-2Wj-7b0RG4xkJGVg3j0wUM2Ch47efpqeccFwwg2-vxByPwLwh2TeZpCC9MXb1Em1GgTy7Uk40Pr1KhE_jKxsF-QawrIAqACM/s1600/P7210569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDkaYht9l83INLjvybRdKP7O9YPdp89WvEHIUIuss-Z-2Wj-7b0RG4xkJGVg3j0wUM2Ch47efpqeccFwwg2-vxByPwLwh2TeZpCC9MXb1Em1GgTy7Uk40Pr1KhE_jKxsF-QawrIAqACM/s320/P7210569.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is Block C, a.k.a MY BLOCK. :D Looks very school-ish, no? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhT0Goz14p2m4aKm9L4qJh6bjpCyFDnV25Rzt6E6WoJFv_ff6LI2Xtgx7gzlKa9qlHJ06WjFjoH6MG944P5Nj3ry2N-HIimurShDrS7k0peZVMeQcXx_DFgyQ7tCX6WZyXRNgkxnamJBU/s1600/P8020024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhT0Goz14p2m4aKm9L4qJh6bjpCyFDnV25Rzt6E6WoJFv_ff6LI2Xtgx7gzlKa9qlHJ06WjFjoH6MG944P5Nj3ry2N-HIimurShDrS7k0peZVMeQcXx_DFgyQ7tCX6WZyXRNgkxnamJBU/s320/P8020024.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>My room's located at the first floor, right on the right side of the staircase.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciyld7wQ34ptZ9-k1R2p3WsVtfhFpAElea6PRifD-rh5ZfaLl889uusLXe8mXvFszcOZjUx8SaWHlRpReiVP5uRmy6Zr_LfltCRIItmFCdYJ6t-HfnaIY7exF3-D17KRbKqnFl5XPn1o/s1600/P8020019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjciyld7wQ34ptZ9-k1R2p3WsVtfhFpAElea6PRifD-rh5ZfaLl889uusLXe8mXvFszcOZjUx8SaWHlRpReiVP5uRmy6Zr_LfltCRIItmFCdYJ6t-HfnaIY7exF3-D17KRbKqnFl5XPn1o/s320/P8020019.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><br />
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Tadaa~ May I present to you my room! A room evidently made for only 1 tenant, it looks small in the photo. In real life... It's smaller. XD Oh, there is the option of choosing who you want your roommate to be, if you have someone in mind. Mind you, you are going to be stuck with them for TWO WHOLE YEARS, so it is wise of them to give us the choice. I was stuck between going with someone I know (There are two other people from my school), or just leave it to fate.<br />
I chose the latter. Alhamdulillah, I received a very nice roommate. :D :D :D</div>
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Still think it sucks to be here? Have a look at this:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooPKOKPzBQ8Vlx95etfEIg6yMuSew0-wSJryXHkEPB5QLGx5i078G8ZO5YJLaMbAjM1ZdDFrhNK_aF9JB9WzC4wsS5Wpy3j3yyX_dz_MeXxtQLbc2E2Xt3DeWzQrS_B3whutmwk3qko4/s1600/P7310003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjooPKOKPzBQ8Vlx95etfEIg6yMuSew0-wSJryXHkEPB5QLGx5i078G8ZO5YJLaMbAjM1ZdDFrhNK_aF9JB9WzC4wsS5Wpy3j3yyX_dz_MeXxtQLbc2E2Xt3DeWzQrS_B3whutmwk3qko4/s320/P7310003.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Our clothes hang in mid-air! Pure awesomeness! <br />Does your place have it? :P</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The playground: A place for us students to blow some steam</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The start of a surprisingly long jogging track.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86aEhpSzptSX0KCrTbTB57WEkNoxbyqgbsDLo52jKU5GdU7GTzl3wx9Rmg6DdXwpKNyax6Es7xkftdV8kfAr8KqNH7vo3t3Vir3LUhVkfBVqzebjhadslyeedniSOz2l-zRgv5z4YKxA/s1600/P8020059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi86aEhpSzptSX0KCrTbTB57WEkNoxbyqgbsDLo52jKU5GdU7GTzl3wx9Rmg6DdXwpKNyax6Es7xkftdV8kfAr8KqNH7vo3t3Vir3LUhVkfBVqzebjhadslyeedniSOz2l-zRgv5z4YKxA/s320/P8020059.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Softball and football field~</i></td></tr>
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So, there you have it. I've shown you around a good part of my <strike>school</strike> college. This is where I'll be living for the next two years. A place in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest shopping mall being a half hour away. A place where the signal is bad. A place that feels just like school, having to call your lecturers 'teachers', and assignments 'homeworks'.</div>
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Sounds bad, don't it? But look at the bright side; we'll be focused without any distractions, our eyes and hands won't be glued to our smartphones and laptops 24/7, and we'll still have our studying mood going on. Don't judge a book by its cover. Being here will bring out the best in us.</div>
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To sum it up, this place is good for those who wanna study, and go far in life, distance and careerwise. It's bad for those who loathed their 12-13 years of school, and relished at the thought of freedom in college/university, but realised that their next two years will also be very, very school-like. But I assure you, this place is awesome.<br />
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Oh, did I forget to mention? They're making a swimming pool here too. <i>AWESOME</i>.</div>
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P.S: If there are any mistakes, please let me know. Questions are also welcome, but I've only been here for a month, so meh. I will probably upload more pics of the college. It'll depend on my ever-changing mood.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-71858413232510941122013-06-19T00:28:00.001-07:002013-06-19T00:28:31.023-07:00Butter Cake Recipe!!! You are one lucky reader to have found this place. I'm feeling especially generous today, so today, I will be handing down, to you, a secret family recipe that was inherited since 250 years ago. But there is one flaw to this appreciative gesture: I don't have a 250-year-old secret family recipe (Or do I...?). So I'll just have to make do with a butter cake recipe, ripped off straight from the newspaper.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;"> The other day (1st June. to be exact.), my dad found a little something between the pages of the newspaper that he'd like to try; a butter cake recipe. When he said 'I wanted to try it', he meant 'I will drag my son down to the kitchen to help me'. So after a week of delays, he finally dragged me into the kitchen, and got started.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"> Here are the ingredients you are gonna need:</span><br />
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<li>250g butter</li>
<li>210g castor sugar</li>
<li>4 eggs</li>
<li>1 teaspoon vanilla essence</li>
<li>200g self-raising flour, sifted with 1/2 teaspoon salt, and</li>
<li>4 tablespoon fresh UHT milk</li>
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Ze Instructions!:</div>
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1) Grease and line a 20cm cake tin with greased greaseproof paper. Preheat ze oven to 170<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 14.545454025268555px;">° </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; font-weight: bold; line-height: 14.545454025268555px;">C.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>It said to do it first, but we put it last on ze list. Yeah, we're rulebreakers, and proud of it.<br />Plus, I dunno why the empty tin was in there.</i></td></tr>
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2) Cream the butter and sugar until light and creamy. One way to make sure that it's creamy (Because I didn't know how to recognize it, even when I'm facing it.) is that the butter does not stick to the whisk.</div>
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3) Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition until mixture is light and creamy. Than add the essence.</div>
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4) Fold in sifted flour gradually to mix, before finally adding the milk. Mix until well combined.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJ9D_EP14cwBfYxBPIaqhfro-rLxatR6WUh0pcsZRHUCcNDApqIXVrsHhHmFcWkRke5RrWMDGw5P-fbnsPMLX5VD6rEfcuOngwaz3UeUrvobaA-9T5HaCzhB_wZJeCMr65jR9AAqGH6E/s1600/P6170460.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJ9D_EP14cwBfYxBPIaqhfro-rLxatR6WUh0pcsZRHUCcNDApqIXVrsHhHmFcWkRke5RrWMDGw5P-fbnsPMLX5VD6rEfcuOngwaz3UeUrvobaA-9T5HaCzhB_wZJeCMr65jR9AAqGH6E/s320/P6170460.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yup, that's well combined alright. I guess. Creamy yellow mess.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
5) Turn out mixture into prepared tin. Level out the mixture at the sides but allow a shallow well in the centre. The keyword is SHALLOW. This is to enable the cake to level up evenly during ze baking.<br />
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As you can see below, my dearest father did not listen to his son's constant disagreeing mumbles. Let's see what happens...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivckrWVcydHLtKQkjetqnr4s3QM8-cw-Fhhzu89LHSKxIAYkqqZh44UGbhjn80Y0n6kOGgPHm6K_V6rZxLk5iGiTu1OXOK1cFusn_HXonccNverK1oMNmf5LtHdceS1V8J9UUQr-YHNm0/s1600/P6170462.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivckrWVcydHLtKQkjetqnr4s3QM8-cw-Fhhzu89LHSKxIAYkqqZh44UGbhjn80Y0n6kOGgPHm6K_V6rZxLk5iGiTu1OXOK1cFusn_HXonccNverK1oMNmf5LtHdceS1V8J9UUQr-YHNm0/s320/P6170462.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not shallow enough, dad. Not shallow enough.</td></tr>
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6) Bake in pre-heated oven for 55-60 minutes or until cooked through when tested with a skewer.</div>
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Optional Waiting Activities:</div>
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<ul>
<li>Dance to a song (In my case, Bruno Mar's 'Treasure)</li>
<li>Show dancing moves to mother. (This is a risky activity, as it can cause the mother to start her lecture on colleges and the importance of education. This will depend on the attitude of mothers.)</li>
<li>Let sofa swallow you into comfort as you watch the latest episode of your fave TV show</li>
<li>Watch curiously at the oven as the tin spins around for the hour.</li>
</ul>
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7) Let it cool before serving the cake.<br /><br /> And we're done. :) As I proceeded to slice the cake, my baby bro pointed out how familiar it seemed to him. I stared at the cake, slowly realising the likeness of the cake.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJM32NPNXaTyeRhHzsWsMrUU2xiawuQfa6vTs4x75VItVXJf7y8FvCIJoDEx2pFAbb4IN2HrNUwoJBGHUJtw0W4MZs28OltQFAs8StJ7LqPVI3_0wbFjhmRVhx9NJTDkSEvmKSb2iKIhY/s1600/P6170465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJM32NPNXaTyeRhHzsWsMrUU2xiawuQfa6vTs4x75VItVXJf7y8FvCIJoDEx2pFAbb4IN2HrNUwoJBGHUJtw0W4MZs28OltQFAs8StJ7LqPVI3_0wbFjhmRVhx9NJTDkSEvmKSb2iKIhY/s320/P6170465.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Like a burnt pimply pellet-eating, ghost-chomping arcade character.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Also, we noticed the peculiar bump of the cake. Then I remember that it was due to the lack of shallowness and the ignorance of a certain person.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIugYHjDNtlv_hTSkl8mRgBdRb20LfVbPVIlhUGHn92i1hXVm6c_p8vMH25upsYoPo3DfHoWD8qNQNuL12kISfXvHNLKKWsPlIOPXU3OMV-KGlbPkhpmvXH4IQLinAVkDQFLGDLw0vXak/s1600/P6170466.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIugYHjDNtlv_hTSkl8mRgBdRb20LfVbPVIlhUGHn92i1hXVm6c_p8vMH25upsYoPo3DfHoWD8qNQNuL12kISfXvHNLKKWsPlIOPXU3OMV-KGlbPkhpmvXH4IQLinAVkDQFLGDLw0vXak/s320/P6170466.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This is clearly a case of ididn'tlistentomyawesomeson-tis.</i><br /><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It was delicious. :D And I'm gonna attempt the second time this evening, so I'll try to upload the pics as soon as possible. In the meantime, you can either try this recipe, or continue drooling at the images of the awesomely home-made creation. ;)</span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-7046386959888221442013-06-11T08:40:00.002-07:002013-06-11T08:40:55.632-07:00Hide and Seek in TESCO with Bros + Surprise Visit to UiTM~ Yep, my life has been reduced to this.<br />
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Ever since the last post, I haven't been doing anything worth pouring into a public blog. Until today. Yeaaaaah, I just humiliated myself by running around the clothes section, chasing my two sweet lil bros in a game of 'Hide and Seek'. The last time I did that was 2 years ago, at a 3-storey furniture shop. Man, it was so awesome. Gave me adrenaline rush. :)<br />
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You might be going, 'Aren't you embarrassed?' Hey, who am I to them? A stranger. They won't know me at all. (Until they read this blog, and then goes 'Ah, it's the lunatic in the red jacket from the other day.') And besides, I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who does these childish things? Right? If you don't, then you are a hypocrite for telling people you're a 'child at heart'. :P Yeah, call me immature. I'm a guy. We mature late. And I'm a late bloomer. Get with it.<br />
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The other, more exciting event of yesterday was the surprise visit to UiTM. To visit a mate. Whom I haven't seen in a LONG, LONG WHILE. A best friend, who coincidentally has a similar name to mine. :) Brought him out to dinner. Out of his dorm, not out of the campus, because there's a supposed male curfew that starts at 11pm. (But still out, technically.) And not forgetting my sweet cousin, Kak Mimin, another resident of UiTM. :D Yeah, killing two birds with one stone. Multitasker right here.<br />
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<a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/p480x480/944703_10200511774009494_921781309_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-g-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/p480x480/944703_10200511774009494_921781309_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Ash and Acap. :D Plus the big red fella in the background, a.k.a Lil Bro 1</i></div>
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<br />"Why aren't you in college?"<br />
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Moi? Answer: <strike>I'm simply too awesome to be imprisoned by the grasps of tertiary education life </strike> I'm entering next month. :) Where? Spoilers~<br />
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I also just realised that I'm nearing my 100th blog post. Which is weird, considering that this blog has been living for 3 years. I should really be more active. But hey, it's a perfect time to be engaging in some cool, secret project. :) Just two more to go.<br /><br /> This has been me, signing out.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-42714992457188634522013-05-20T22:08:00.001-07:002013-05-20T22:08:33.028-07:00Interview #2: KYS Chartered Accountancy Programme<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> <span lang="EN-GB">The other day, I received a phone call from the Saad Foundation
College/ KYS, or rather, my father did. Over the static noise, I managed to
catch that they were offering me a chance to go for Chartered Accountancy
Programme in New Zealand. I also got to know that my school sent me a list
of hopeful candidates to them, which answered my question; <b>HOW DID THEY GET MY NAME</b>?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> So off I went to the Boulevard Office two days
ago, with a bag in one hand and a blazer in the other. A few minutes earlier,
on the road, a thought crossed my already occupied mind; since they received a
list from the school, wouldn’t there bound to be other schoolmates of mine
already waiting there? I seriously could not back out from this now. Going in
the lift. <i>I suppose there would just be 3
or 4 familiar faces</i>. Stepped out on the 3<sup>rd</sup> floor and the first
thing I noticed? Two rows of familiar faces, staring at me. What a pleasant
surprise. What was more surprising was the fact that in a room of 50, 60
candidates, only one were wearing a blazer. Guess who that was?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSifKdc73Hj7rLSeKnz5ygBVYkmBbr-EUHuwfBbJQMMhStc1-122V4XdC68G-dNrVjvzuvunsD1gvOHiu4ypDUIQE0Enw3CjyisSTNGcmyGOLoCsFSlHKgI_gA8Lc6jC94bEsZkjXeDc/s1600/P5180224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSifKdc73Hj7rLSeKnz5ygBVYkmBbr-EUHuwfBbJQMMhStc1-122V4XdC68G-dNrVjvzuvunsD1gvOHiu4ypDUIQE0Enw3CjyisSTNGcmyGOLoCsFSlHKgI_gA8Lc6jC94bEsZkjXeDc/s320/P5180224.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Answer: The idiot on the left.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljXuh_dF14O-zBrmY4JryujG70I8kMGiI0IaNVqt6P9et76LWrD2Jz64ArmkjiCb-WyHfdgQAASMyTBLTtWgIoN3nnEDRu61c2v4dCP3yundAHxdKwPgh5ASPKLp04w7xpMlYW1HJkOQ/s1600/P5180184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgljXuh_dF14O-zBrmY4JryujG70I8kMGiI0IaNVqt6P9et76LWrD2Jz64ArmkjiCb-WyHfdgQAASMyTBLTtWgIoN3nnEDRu61c2v4dCP3yundAHxdKwPgh5ASPKLp04w7xpMlYW1HJkOQ/s320/P5180184.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><i>The screen was this far. And that small. Would you believe that? D:</i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> After catching up with friends during the
briefing (We were too far from the screen to pay attention to the video. And playing
it twice does not make it more appealing. Which is what they did, BTW.), we
headed to the food a level below. I had a laugh when my blurheaded mate Uzair
accidentally brought the wrong result slip, before heading off to another
building to prepare for the interview that awaited us. Well, some of us did,
because I wanted to ask the people from the first session how it went, and I
forced Uzair to tag along. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> The type of interview was a group interview;
we were all separated into 5 groups of 2 – 5 people and 3 sessions, all lasting
around 30 minutes. The interviewers would hand us a card, containing 6
questions, and we would have to unanimously pick one and discuss about it,
before finally giving the interviewers a piece of our mind. Yeah, so when my
turn arrived, only one other turned up, him and I making up A2. Now I know you
might be going, ‘Hey, isn’t that advantageous for you? Less people, less
competition.’ I have to agree, this situation would have been great... If he
wasn’t as blur as Uzair. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"> I tried to engage in a conversation with him
throughout the interview, but it seemed that his mind wasn’t completely there. It
was hard to try to continue talking when your partner is only responding
shortly. (BTW, Uzair and Haziq, if you happen to chance upon this, I don’t
despise you two. Love you guys. As friends, of course.) After awkwardly choosing
‘What is the ideal age of dating?’ among the topics at hand, we uncomfortably
discussed in front of the interviewers. It was over, at last, and I confirmed
my earlier suspicions that one of them was a familiar person; we had met at a
educational roadshow at Kuala Lumpur Convention Centre.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> And
that was how my interview #2 went. It was better than the first one, because I
didn’t fumble over my words as much, and the KYS interviewers were much more
relaxed. :D I hope all future interviews would go on like this. But I’m pretty
sure my wish wouldn’t come true.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 14.44444465637207px;">Pictures of Moments~:</span></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ryrrHzrJpSFUw6LR1AOFgldNoWzUFSOas0h0InkpklmM-nJAvvfW5AsC4QGmEnRyKS6HPdKgosqf42uclYRt9juUUT6zDDna_wycmTaoD2bGf57S0RtKoPLuVa60EbN0c92rHiooCKg/s1600/P5180223.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7ryrrHzrJpSFUw6LR1AOFgldNoWzUFSOas0h0InkpklmM-nJAvvfW5AsC4QGmEnRyKS6HPdKgosqf42uclYRt9juUUT6zDDna_wycmTaoD2bGf57S0RtKoPLuVa60EbN0c92rHiooCKg/s320/P5180223.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<o:p></o:p><br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-10235083191680029412013-05-11T02:15:00.000-07:002013-05-16T01:25:34.989-07:00I, the Unintentional Bully<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Recently,
I found something lodged in between the pages of a book that really took me
back. It was a handwritten letter from a friend, requesting me to hear out his
apology, and asking me to wear appropriately before meeting him at the tuition
centre. Seeing the three-year-old letter really brought me down memory lane,
despite wanting to steer away from this part of my life. I need to store it in
the deepest part of my mind, only opening the memories once more when I want to
paint myself as an awkward kid/preteen bully in the eyes of my kids, and their
kids, which would be unlikely.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt8S3kye0CVP_7kEnWHUJYqE7I5pl5btpiDFp-JULveihMcSy_8Apde27iFd7BlFY6Vvt95rKK3cy1_gupDKhUVt-txE7lnDRu1yaWNGUSZj-d4q7NsX8654zQC4xG63Dd9luSx_WKII/s1600/P5160180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVt8S3kye0CVP_7kEnWHUJYqE7I5pl5btpiDFp-JULveihMcSy_8Apde27iFd7BlFY6Vvt95rKK3cy1_gupDKhUVt-txE7lnDRu1yaWNGUSZj-d4q7NsX8654zQC4xG63Dd9luSx_WKII/s320/P5160180.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was suffice just to come to me and talk face-to-face, rather than waste a half paper to write a really short and somewhat incomprehensible memo. But I have to admit, it was pretty nice of him to go this far. :)</div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> “<span style="font-size: large;">WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT???</span>” I hear
questioning screams from the other side of the screen.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Yes, I have to admit. I
was a bully. More like ‘accused as a bully’, but never mind. It might be
shocking for those who know me. Frankly,
I was quite as surprised as you are, when my friends started to label me that a
few years back. They don’t call me that for no reason, that, I realise now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> There’s a long story behind the then-absurd claims.
There was this one peer of mine, who was rather slow compared to other kids,
the same one who wrote to me the aforementioned letter. To make the story less
confusing, I shall name him W. Hence, being the simpleminded teen I was, I
played around with the guy. I remembered clearly how a friend and I (Yeah, it
wasn’t only me.), came up with a ruse. W
always carried his water bottle with him, so whenever he left it on the rack to
enter the library, we would always relocate it to another spot on the rack,
usually hidden from sight. When he
freaked out and reported to the teacher, we would put on our innocent masks and
offered to help. And that was only a small segment in a long list of misdeeds
done to him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> You
could see how cautious and scared he was of me; he’d run away from me when we
coincidentally met on the way to the loo during exam week, and his homeroom
teacher, to whom he put his trust on, gave me a suspicious glare whenever I
pass by. Heck, there was even that one time when I watched TV with him (It’s a
rare occasion.) Some mischievous guy spooked him from behind, and guess which
name he screamed out in anger?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> The
biggest blow occurred on a day which started off quite normally. The library
was a common interest between W and I; I found peace and solitude within a room
surrounded by a rowdy atmosphere, while he expressed curiosity towards the TV
that sat at the corner of the library. On that day, he pestered a few people,
cornering them into a room, holding the door to keep him from opening it. And
I, annoyed by the disruption of peace, plus the sudden ‘hero complex’ idea that
sparked in my foolish mind, proceeded to kick him out. Struggled to, to be
precise. W was constantly screaming and shouting at me throughout the whole
ordeal, which turned every pair of eyes at the both of us. Ever since then,
people have been calling me a bully from time to time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> This
particular accident compelled him to write the above letter, describing how
sorry he was for ‘bullying’ me in front of the others. The nerve. Anyway, you could imagine by now how terrible
I was towards W. Even I feel ashamed at the amount of grief he endured from me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> In
my defense, I was merely teasing him. But I suppose that was how other bullies
would say. I have somewhat learnt from that period of time; cover up my tracks
if I were to ever commit a crime again. That, and to think about how others
feel before I act.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.5pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext 1.5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB"> Oh, if you're wondering what the letter up there says, and you just couldn't squint enough to have a read, don't fret. Here is the content of the letter. :D :<br /><br /><b>Dear Asroff,</b></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><b><br /></b></span>
<span lang="EN-GB"><b> I knew I'm sorry that I'd bullied you for a while in the library. As you know what bullying is the <i>pengawas</i> (prefect) will write my name to the list.<br /></b></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><b> I'm sure that I'm in a bad mood for a bit. While you're at the <i>dewan tertutup</i> (closed hall) I think you will get revenge to me. Please don't call somebody about me.</b></span><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Go to the tuition center by today. Wear formal clothing when you have Malay and Science class. Be there when I came to the tuition by car. I need to apologise to you.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b> Please accept my apologies. Thank you.</b><br />
<br />
Two things to know:<br />
1) He spelled my name wrong; and<br />
2) If you think that there are a few grammatical errors there, it's not my fault. I typed it word by word.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-73883651623466333352013-03-07T00:31:00.002-08:002013-03-07T00:31:25.303-08:00What I Learned From Promoting Things People Fear<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Credit card, anyone?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Greetings, people. Some of you may have
wondered why I have disappeared for a month, right after I decided to update
frequently. Most of you probably did not care about my wellbeing. XD I have to
confess, I did something no one like me would ever dare to do during January.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I got a flipping job. As a flipping credit
card promoter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> “My
gosh”, people tell me, “are you out of your flipping mind?” Well, looking back,
yes, I was out of my mind, grabbing an offer to torture myself physically and
mentally. By working, I inadvertently spent my well earned relaxation period doing
something useful and beneficial for once, which was sickeningly awful, as I had
planned to devote my precious few months to lounging around, watching endless
TV soaps, and gaining a few extra pounds. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> But
what’s past is past. Anyways, back to point. I decided to share my experience
of working life to everyone, and tips on how to sail through smoothly. </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">1)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Punctuality is Key</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Now, we all know punctuality is a very, very
essential aspect of life. You need to be on time for everything, lest you want
to miss the bus, overcook your meal, and get dumped by your BF/GF. All sorts of
unfortunate consequences could happen, even if you were a little bit late. In
this case, you can get a fine.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> The concept is like this: You rent a space at
a shopping mall; you abide by the rules, one of them being ‘You will pay for
not opening your stall on time, literally.’ A colleague of mine, being the
usually late person he is, didn’t get the memo, and was slapped with a fine
upon arrival. Luckily, the manager and he were on good terms, and thus he was
let off with a slight warning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">2)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Keep Your Patience (Don’t Blow
Your Top Off So Fast)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> One thing we all dread, not only in the
promoting services, but in almost every type of job, are those unrelenting
customers, who try to force you to drive up your wall and become all Hulkish
with a few screws loose. During my stint, I was met with many bemused faces stabbing
my already fragile confidence, their ruthless glares sucking out every single
drop of pride you had in you. At times, I was met with so many ‘No’s and ‘I
don’t want’s and lies such as the usual ‘I have already’ line, that the anger
starts to build up in me, to the point that I could barely keep the rage from
overflowing and affect innocent people. But then I think of my job, and I’m
back to normal. XD</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">3)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Study (Really, I’m Not Joking)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> You’d think that once you get out of school,
you’d finally be free from all those horrid memorizing. But no, you can’t
escape the clutches of the process. Sorry to break it to you. It’s reality. :/</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> One of the important things you really need
when you are promoting something is adequate information. Study on everything
you need to know about the product. Don’t end up like me. The first week was
full of hems and haws coming out from my mouth as the customers asked the
frequently asked questions. When people see promoters being so clueless about
the products they’re hopelessly persuading others to buy, they lose all faith
in said product, and BAM! No sale. Trust me, I’ve been in that situation tons
of time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">4)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Store Your Personal Problems
Somewhere Else</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Imagine this; you had a fight with your
parents, just an hour before your work starts. When you arrive, you are
immediately handed an urgent, yet important project that requires composed
thinking to steer it to success. They gave it to you, a being currently
emotionally unstable. What do you think will happen? Of course you managed to
get it right from the get go, increasing the reputation of the company, and
also the popularity among your colleagues- Oops, sorry. I read that wrongly. It
was the opposite of that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Moral of the story: Don’t let your personal issues
affect your work time. They cloud your judgement, and it’ll also lead to other
undesirable consequences.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span lang="EN-GB">5)<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-GB">Make Sure You Know What You Are
Getting Into</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> This is very,
VERY important in guaranteeing the satisfaction of your work time. Don’t, and I
say DO NOT, just pounce on someone’s offer blindly. Look into the fine print,
like the terms and conditions that you have to obey, or else you could be a snared
into a pit of despair, flailing helplessly as you stand among the streams of
unimpressed people, clocking in overtime without a raise in salary. Like me.
D’:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Although, in my defense I would like to point
the finger to my baby brother, the one who kindly dragged me to the start of it
all, knowing full well that my spectacles were in repair, therefore I can’t see
well, and can’t think well. <------- excuse="" lame="" man="" s=""></-------></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Mm-hmm, I guess that's all the worthwhile advises I got in me to share with you people. Follow these tips, and I guarantee, you'll be able to keep your job, unlike this sad job-loser.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Oh, didn't I mention it to you? I got kicked out of the promoting service for not having enough sales. Guess I'm not cut out for promotion. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-35684207241246530972012-12-16T19:33:00.001-08:002012-12-16T19:37:40.369-08:00Finally. Finally. Remember this day, people, as the day I have gotten 'round to writing again! :D (Cue large applause track.) I thought I'd never touch the keyboard again. To write, that is. You're nuts to think I haven't been touching the laptop since the last post, which was... Wait, lemme see... Last September. Wow, that's long. I'm starting to think a simple apology won't suffice.<br />
<br />
But then again, what can I do? First of all, I would like to apologise for not updating my blog sooner. I know that there are impatient readers out there craving for more of my awesome anecdotes. :D (Haha, in my dreams.) It's not because I lost interest in blogging anymore, no. That happened last year, for a period of time. You have to understand, I'm tied up with SPM, which I admit is a very lame reason, seeing all my other mates updating quite frequently. Not all of us are geniuses, able to blog while revising till our head explodes.<br />
<br />
When the excruciating time finally ended in mid-November, I was finally able to blog again... Until my bed chained me with it's oh-so-velvety blanket. Because after two years of SUFFERING, it doesn't hurt to sit back and relax for a bit, no? I was also <strike>lazing 'round </strike> finding some ideas to entertain my audience (You guys.), because I had a writer's block. To be frank, writing during school is way easier than during the holidays, since you're gonna be bored with nothing else to do, and when you fool around with your mates, lightbulb moments will always occur to you.<br />
<br />
When I slamdunked the backyard's basketball hoop so hard it crashed to the ground (Literally.), I thought 'Well, might as well start writing again.' (So random.) I don't want my blog to be like those dead sites that people leave at the outermost part of the Internet where it's cold and dark and damp. And here we are, with you reading this, and me probably lounging in front of the telly. I solemnly swear that I will update my blog from now on. I have some stuff in my heart to pour out here, hence the constant outburst of inspiration, thank goodness.<br />
<br />
With that, I bid you adieu. Adiue. Aduie? AHH I'll just stick with 'Goodbye'.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-65588989097934712212012-09-20T00:47:00.001-07:002012-09-20T00:47:54.451-07:00Yes, I Jog Barefoot.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"> Who likes to jog? I know I do (When my bed doesn't entice me
with its comfort.) But recently, I have been noticing a constant pattern
whenever I go down my usual track, every single time; the trailing eyes of
curious people on me. While I do love a bit of public attention, but even I
feel pressured with this increasing affinity towards my not-so-daily routine.
People, why stare at a guys leisurely doing his humdrum routine? Is it due to
my fashion sense? (Yes, I have to admit; sometimes my shirt does not go with my
trousers.) Or is the mere fact of ME even EXERCISING utterly shocking news to
the world?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> Or is it because I jog
barefooted?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> Yes, it’s true. I don’t
jog with shoes. And yes, I go around school barefooted most of the time, out of
laziness, plus the erstwhile lack of footwear, which I will elaborate another
time. I wonder though, why do people tend to just assume that all quirky things
are bad? Every time my friends see me walking around without shoes, they be
asking, ‘Where’s your shoes, man?’ Normally I’d reply with an explanation, but
when I get really tired of the questions, I just give them weird reasons.
Either way, I get showered with bizarre
‘What-the-heck-are-you-spewing-out-boy?’ glances. Now, weary from all the
agonising interrogation, I shall now give you ten reasons why barefoot running
is good!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">You’d have a sense of connectedness.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> Running with your shoes
only allows you to feel the cool, refreshing air and eye candy. But barefoot
jogging gives you a whole lot more – just think of it as shifting from 2D to
3D.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Strides are lighter.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Ever feel
like you jog too slowly sometimes? Try taking off your shoes – you’ll
definitely feel the lighter and faster. Certainly advantageous when you’re
trying run away from bullies and perverts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Better landing guaranteed.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Footwear
often tend to make people land on their heels. (Don’t ask me why. Just observe
joggers.) And landing on heels is a big no-no. The correct way would be to land
on the front and middle of your feet, and with your shoes, it won’t be
comfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">You’d
have a better posture.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Running with your bare feet touching with the ground enables
you to know whether your posture is correct or not. Contact of the ground will
give feedback on how you to change your pose.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Give
freedom to your feet.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Notice how uncomfortable it is to have your feet movement
restrained by your socks and shoes? I often find myself unconsciously trying to
wriggle my toes, but to no avail. Jogging barefoot releases you from the burden
of your feet binded by fabric. Be nice to your feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">You’d be
more alert.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">With bare feet, you’d be more vulnerable to sharp and
dangerous objects lying idly on the ground, waiting to prick its victims to
death. Your instincts would kick right in to avoid such an unfavourable fate.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Less
stress will be exerted on your lower half.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> With running shoes, we tend to burden our
ankles with our weight, which would heighten the probability of a sprained
ankle. Bare feet lessens the possiblity of any leg injury, due to the better
posture and lighter strides achieved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Stronger
feet.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> Our feet became too soft and weak, because of
wearing shoes. Going barefoot increases our feet’s strength, though I warn you
of the pain you have to endure the first few times trying this. But as they
say: No pain, no gain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s Fun!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> Jogging around with bare feet is very
exciting! It reminds me of when I was still a child, running around outside
without shoes and constantly worring my parents. Plus, it’s nice to have people
look at you sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s also
very, VERY cheap.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;">How much did your fashionable, branded running shoes cost
you? Now compare that price with your feet. Enough said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 115%;"> So there you have it, 10 perfectly good and logical
reasons why barefoot jogging is good for you. I hope this would explain to
every curious person why I do this stuff. For all you know, it might even
become a trend in school! Right now, I have an appointment with my bed, so be
seeing you soon! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-23554670321121729942012-08-21T22:30:00.003-07:002012-08-21T22:30:56.079-07:00Raya Money ExpeditionFinally, after a month of abstaining from food and and other wickedly wicked things, Ramadhan gives way for Syawal to shine. And you know what that means! It's RAYAAAAAAAA!!! :D Following our yearly routine, we excitedly ate our breakfast after the Raya prayers. Atuk's house was full of warmth and laughter, as it is the time of the year where everyone would gather at the house. Although celebrating is on everyone's mind, kids have prioritized something else during the festivities; Raya money.<br />
<br />
'Tis a tradition for working adults to give out Raya money to the children, whatever the amount is (The minimum being RM1.) The living room was brim full of cousins, ages ranging from 5 - 20++ (Yeah we teens can also be considered as money-hungry children in this case. XD) lining up to receive the once-a-year colorful packets from aunts and uncles situated in different parts of the room. Laughter ensued as sly kids attempted to double their profit, and many snickered when I tried (and failed) to extort some Sterling Pounds from my older cousin. (He's currently vacationing in Malaysia during semester break.)<br />
<br />
Yet, I felt that I was missing out on something. My dear mother enlightened me in the car on our way to visit open houses. 'Did you know,' she started. 'That when I was a kid, we would walk around the neighbourhood, visiting the neighbours and collect Raya money?'<br />
<br />
Lightbulb moment.<br />
<br />
When we returned to Atuk's house (No house was open, which was expected, since the first day of Raya is always spent with family.) I headed to the back of the house, to find all my cousins dying of boredom in the dim room, with only the TV screen as a light source. After berating them for lazing about, watching TV ('Now you know the true meaning of Raya.' one of them smirked.), the 'Raya Money Expedition' team was formed, which consisted of me, the eldest of the group (My peers declined, due to them being 'too mature' for this activity, or what I prefer to call as their 'lack of courage'.), 4 girls and 4 guys, ranging from 5 - 15. God, I felt like a black sheep.<br />
<br />
So for all the houses we visited (Only three.), 17-year-old me would be forced to holler at open doors by the girls (Who kept their distance from the boys, to avoid embarrassment of being with a guy who hollers at open doors) in hopes that someone would notice and invite us in. When someone does invite us in, the girls would appear right behind us. We would then proceed to eat the kuih (Small delicacies.) and stare around the house in an awkward atmosphere as the the people of the house sit unblinking and throw around occasional questions at us. At the second house, however, somebody turned a little clumsy (Hint: ME) and dropped a jar of bahulu.<br />
Don't blame me. How was I supposed to know the lid wasn't tight enough to be lifted? Thankfully, they were all too far at the back of the house to be within earshot.<br />
<br />
Though we only collected RM4 from the expedition, we had a fun time. I sure did. It was due to the fact that it was a first time for me, as when I was younger, Raya was celebrated at a less festal atmosphere in the UK, and I never thought of doing so the past 4 years I've been back in Malaysia, because of the city, and citizens' attitude towards random strangers who holler at open doors isn't that warming (Increase of crime rates, wariness towards people etc.) So yeah, I had a really fun time.<br />
<br />
Next me, I'll force the others to join me so I don't have to wallow in awkward embarrassment alone. (Insert evil laugh.) >:DUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-54645880026435345272012-08-14T08:36:00.003-07:002012-08-14T08:45:34.550-07:00Experimenting on Smart Nerve Wreck Friends During Exams<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During the
trials (Which ends tomorrow, thank God.), I noticed a peculiar thing about a
friend of mine. I realized that this thing happens during all the examination
periods. He is a smart guy, and yet his worrying attitude doesn’t match his
grades. We all have that kinda friend, right? I decided to experiment on my
assumptions:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aim: To
determine the effects of the level of worry of a person on the grade of their
exam results</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hypothesis:
The more worried the person is, the higher the grade of the exam result<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Variables:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Manipulated:
The difficulty of the exams<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Responding:
The level of anxiety of the person<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fixed: The
person<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apparatus
and Materials:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
</div>
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A <strike>human lab rat</strike> <strike>nerve wreck</strike> anxious friend</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A chair</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A table</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Exam papers (Three subjects based on friend’s
skill)</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pen</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Clock</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Malicious laugh track or any anxiety increasing
device (Optional)</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Rope (Optional)</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Procedure:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo2; mso-text-indent-alt: -18.0pt; text-indent: -36.0pt;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Place the <strike>human lab rat</strike> <strike>nervous wreck</strike> friend on
a chair.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Push the chair to the table.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Place easy exam paper on the table.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Give the friend a pen and order instruct
him/her to finish the test within the allotted time. Another </span><strike style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">subject</strike><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> person
(Me) is needed to take the exam as well.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Wait for an hour or so.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Collect the exam paper, whether he/she is
finished or not.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Observe the <strike>subject</strike> friend and record on table.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mark the exam paper and record the grade on the
table.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Repeat the experiment with medium-level and
hard-level exam paper.</span></li>
</ol>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Precautions:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l2 level1 lfo3; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<br />
<ul>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span dir="LTR" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If the <strike>lab rat</strike> friend is unwilling, tie him/her
to the chair on the rope.</span></li>
<li><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span><span dir="LTR" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If he/she does not display much anxiety during
the exam, the laugh track/anxiety-increasing device is used.</span></li>
</ul>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tabulation
of Data:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<table border="1" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoTableGrid" style="border-collapse: collapse; border: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;">
<tbody>
<tr>
<td style="border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 98.9pt;" valign="top" width="132"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Level of Exam<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td colspan="2" style="border-left: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 187.0pt;" valign="top" width="249"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anxiety Level (%)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td colspan="2" style="border-left: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 178.5pt;" valign="top" width="238"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Exam Grade (%)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 98.9pt;" valign="top" width="132"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 97.75pt;" valign="top" width="130"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nervous Wreck Friend<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Me<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nervous Wreck<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Friend<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 98.9pt;" valign="top" width="132"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Easy<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">20<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 97.75pt;" valign="top" width="130"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">48<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">75<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">84<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 98.9pt;" valign="top" width="132"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Medium<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">46<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 97.75pt;" valign="top" width="130"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">63<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">69<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">89<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="border-top: none; border: solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 98.9pt;" valign="top" width="132"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hard<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">52<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 97.75pt;" valign="top" width="130"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">82<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">64<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
<td style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-left: none; border-right: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border-top: none; mso-border-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-left-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-border-top-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; padding: 0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; width: 89.25pt;" valign="top" width="119"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">90<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</td>
</tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Conclusion:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
hypothesis is accepted. The more worried
the person is, the higher the grade of the exam result.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However,
the hypothesis does not apply to the normal subject (Me).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="border-bottom: solid windowtext 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .5pt; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 1.0pt 0cm; padding: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m sure all of you can relate
to this. It's not easy having this type of person as a best friend. But hey, what's the point of being called a best friend if you can't put up with the downsides of people, right? :)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Plus, it's fun to fool around with his anxiety. XD</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-37089114209742168832012-08-02T10:55:00.000-07:002012-08-02T11:20:24.604-07:00Aren’t They Too Young To Get Hitched?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I've watched the most
recent video that made it to every chatterbox’s (Well, it probably means every
housewife in Malaysia.) ‘List of hot gossips to chatter about during the
teatime get-together’. Now, you guys are probably wondering which video I’m
talking about (Unless you’re a chatterbox, or housewife, or BOTH.) Answer: the
marriage between 16-year old Syafiq and 14-year old Yana! Never heard of it?
Now you do. For those of you whose attention I’ve captured with my answer, and
wish to watch the seemingly interesting video (Obviously interesting enough to
captivate me.), but fails to find it, fret not; I prepared the video beneath
this paragraph. Enjoy:</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/-h0yh-rDcjo?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why now?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Lovely, isn’t it? It
had a sort of happily-ever-after mood going on there. But the beauty of the
video is not the case in this post (Although it has good quality). What went
through my mind the whole time was: Aren’t they a tad too young to get married?
Now, don’t get me wrong. I approve of this marriage. It’s better for lovebirds
to marry than to elope and making your parents worried sick about you. But
isn’t it just too early? I heard that this ‘early marriage’ trend existed once.
It ended DECADES AGO. I can’t seem to grasp any logical explanation to this,
other than it being an arranged marriage. If it is so, then we can question the
parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Married Life Needs Something<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> My grandfather
married my grandmother at a young age. They bore 7 kids, the 5<sup>th</sup>
being my father. I guess in the olden days, it was pretty normal to get hitched
early. Jobs popped up everywhere. The prices of things in those days were
probably a whole lot cheaper than it is now. In the 21<sup>st</sup> century,
however, we need a little extra something in order to survive in this
materialistic world, and that something became the reason why many decline to
wed at an early stage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I believe it is
called education.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Nowadays, it’s hard
to find even mediocre jobs without it, let alone being the big boss of a
worldwide company. If you were to get married at a crucial point of your life, how
are you going to support your family AND study in school? Do they have the
choice of dropping out? There are lots of jobs offered, such as being taxi
drivers, stall vendors, construction workers, etc. But is it enough to work so
hard to earn a wage that can barely feed the family?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And They Call It
Puppy Love <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Other than education,
there’s also something that teenage couple needs to make a happy married life:
Love. Now, we all know what love is. It’s the desire to be with that special
someone, even if they have no desire to do ‘it’.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Yet most of us teens tend to
misinterpret another feeling as love. LUST. Now, can anyone tell me what lust
is? Simply put, it is the desire to do ‘it’ with someone, even if you have no
desire to be with them. It’s true, many people get mixed up between the two,
and that is the source of all the illegal babies and the rise in abortions in
Malaysia. Teenagers have really, REALLY unstable hormones, and it sometimes
cloud their judgement. If all lovesick teenage couples were to marry, I guarantee
you that half of their new bonds would crash and burn in a short amount of
time. And mostly for meaningless reasons.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Nevertheless, not all
marriages are a burden to couples. They probably have their financial problems
covered and had their feeling sorted out before going through the
once-in-a-lifetime event. Either way, I’m happy for them. Maybe I should get married too.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> If I had a girlfriend. T___________________________________T</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-41089639197481768352012-07-21T09:46:00.003-07:002012-07-21T09:46:58.616-07:00Bringing Phones Legally to School: Good or Bad?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">So, they decided to allow kids to bring
hi-tech gadgets to school now, huh? I bet most of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Malaysia</st1:place></st1:country-region> knew this by now; I found
out a few days earlier, when my eyes fell on the surprising article on the
third page of the Star newspaper. I could not believe my eyes. Was this really
happening? I could’ve sworn I heard high-pitched voices screaming with joy as
they threw their cell phones in the air. Then there are the low grumbles and
rants of the seniors, who would not be able to taste the sweet freedom of
holding their iPads in class, if the law was to be implemented in 2013. I
realised that I was also unconsciously complaining about the decision being far
too late for us Form Fivers (Even though I had my phone safely tucked away in a
place where no phone-snatching wardens would ever think to look.) This was the
second time I had felt dissatisfied; the first being the time I found out that
school students didn’t have to pay for their train tickets. Think of all the
money I could’ve saved if I had known a year earlier!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><b>The Pros</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Well, now that the cat is out of the bag, many
students (excluding myself) are excited for the next school year. The presence
of hi-tech phones and gadgets on one’s self could greatly benefit you. For
instance, say some tech savvy kid (e.g. you) was kidnapped by an evil adult.
With a phone in his/her grasp, two things could be done. One, call or text your
parents your whereabouts without being noticed by the kidnapper. Two, pray that
someone has the common sense to find your phone/gadget via GPS (And hope that
your battery will be able to last long enough.) </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Children also claim that with technology,
class can be more effective, not to mention fun. Nowadays, there are sites on
the Internet that either encourage kids to learn more, or help them revise
their subjects. Though I must say, wasn’t there a cheaper way of influencing
kids to study? Oh yeah, now I remember. It was whipping the child with the
rattan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><b>It’s Not a Flawless Plan</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Nothing’s perfect in life. That includes this
whimsical law. Not every teen on the country supports the idea of bringing
devices to school. Some even strongly opposes it. And with good reason too;
it’s too much a distraction for a learning tool. Most people find it hard to
study at home, what with all the disturbances around them. Even I have to
admit, had I not gone to boarding school, I’d have been glued to the TV and
laptop alternately 24/7. By approving the law, we’re just giving them more
distractions, and at a place where they should be focused.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> I
can bet you that students would put more effort on updating their Facebook or
Twitter every few minutes with boring, insignificant nonsense (‘My History
teacher is currently writing things on the whiteboard.’ ‘LOL I’m tweeting in
the toilet’) There would also be an increase of students taking pictures of
their food at the canteen and uploading it online just for the sake of
informing the public what they’re eating.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> Pftt. As if the public cares.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"> I’m
not opposing the implementation, but I’m not on the bandwagon too. I don’t
really care about it anyways. Perhaps you'll be seeing me grumbling to my friends about how
people make decisions a tad too late to benefit me.</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-51537793253693170962012-07-13T01:33:00.000-07:002012-07-15T07:55:18.437-07:00Why Our Classroom Teacher Threw Out Our Nilam Out the Window Nilam, a book record has been considerably infamous in the eyes of students nationwide for its lack of significance. Most teens, in the right state of mind, would think of Nilam as a pain in the arse, and would rather opt to do something more beneficial, for instance sleeping. Although the school rules emphasizes the fact that filling in our book records are compulsory, both pupils and teachers have agreed to just randomly fill in numbers of books they supposedly read at the end of the year. It's a normal yearly routine, and it has been so for the past few years.<br />
<br />
Then I realised that it doesn't apply to my school.<br />
<br />
My whole class was shocked when my class teacher, Mrs N. (A newlywed.), arrived with a gigantic load of <span style="background-color: white;">photocopied Nilam pages. She said something by the lines of 'You have to complete 80 pages to get a certificate that will be essential for your future'. So yeah, we went into panic mode. She gave us 3 pieces of paper each time she came to class (That's 12 entries.), and she'd expect us to send it the next day. You could see everyone's jaws on the floor. And so, fast forward a couple of weeks, with our wily ways, we managed to send it on time.</span><br />
<br />
Unfortunately, earlier this week, Mrs N. blew into a fit of rage (After a hour of teaching us Physics.) and practically threw half the class's time-consuming (?) book records out the window. Yep, you read it right. Now why did she do so?<br />
<br />
WHAT WE DID TO COMPLETE OUR NILAM:<br />
<b>1) We wrote in non-novel material</b><br />
Well, since the library is off-limits at night, some people wrote down text books and reference books, articles from magazines like Newsweek and newspapers, plus Reader's Digest etc.. And then to create the impression of the so-called books being thicker than one measly page, they decided to put in a 3-digit number in the 'Pages' section. Very smart.<br />
<br />
<b>2)We borrowed Form 1's Nilam books (Better yet, the Form 1 students themselves)</b><br />
We simply jotted down what the Form 1's wrote. There was one person though, who took it to the next level and asked the Form 1 student to help him with his Nilam. A cruel and heartless way of getting things done, but effective nonetheless.<br />
<br />
<b>3)We simply created our own books</b><br />
We were inspired by another class's way of doing things. They simply glanced at their surroundings and made them into storybook titles. There are many believable homemade book titles that could fool teachers, but there were some that was too stupid. One such example that still burns into my mind was this:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>My Classroom's <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Air-conditioner</span></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>PAGES: 600++</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Pftt, like seriously, what kinda teacher wouldn't fall for that one? </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A smart one, duh.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Some also took song titles, as if they thought it wasn't obviously fake (E.g: 'Just the Way You Are by Bruno Earth). Others just used names as authors, such as our superprincipal's name. She was particularly mad about a spelling mistake, though. 'Reald Dohl.' I wonder who could that be? I found out that it stemmed from my own silly handwriting, which led to a string of people incorrectly writing it. It's their fault though, for not recognizing such a famous author.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
After Mrs.N's burst, we finally did things the right way. By the right way, I meant most of them copied my Nilam (Since all of the books on my list were real.) I'm glad we got through this obstacle already. I do wish to see someone wirte a book about air-conditioners, though.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-13292941273677312602012-05-30T09:54:00.001-07:002012-05-30T09:54:57.305-07:00How Come You Go To Tuition?"How come you go to tuition?"<br />
<br />
That's the one of the few questions headed my way when I stepped into the air-conditioned classroom. In fact, it's the FIRST question asked. All the time. Followed by a bewildered 'Youweren'tsupposedtobealive' stare. Cue my reply: "Why, I cannot come to tuition anymore meh?" It was fun to see people react this way the first couple of times, but after a while, it's kinda irritating.<br />
<br />
Yes, I'm a fully residential school student. I stay in the school grounds 24/7. I practically breathe the boarding school. That does not mean I'm prohibited from joining tuition classes. Yeah, they're probably worried about me, spending time at the last place students would dare enter during a time where students could finally taste freedom (Yeah right, they will. I'd be a famous celebrity before the day arrives.)<br />
<br />
Yet, there's a tiny part of me that urges me to strive hard and makes use of the time to revise during the hols. And if that part isn't enough to make me work, there's always dearest mummy. Besides, I'm sure all of us have screamed out "I'm gonna make use of my time well during the holidays!" at least once before. I know I did, every single time a holiday's nearing. I also know that those times were lavishly spent on watching TV, computers and sleeping (Hey, you can't blame a kid for having needs, especially one that has been deprived of all basic entertainments.)<br />
<br />
But not this time. This year is very important for me, and all Malaysians my age. We're facing a major turning point of our lives, the SPM examinations. These exam results would determine our lives; whether we could soar into a bright future, or stay firmly on the ground, thinking of what would have happened had you studied. Of course, university life also plays a key part in determining your future, and so does working experience. Luck's also a large factor, but who cares? We needa hurtle through an obstacle at a time.<br />
<br />
So yeah, I do need to go for tuition, even though I study day and night every single day at school for the past month and a half. And if anyone asks me why, I'll just say "How 'bout you?"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-36908586499219440042012-05-25T20:14:00.002-07:002012-05-26T04:12:14.705-07:00A Whole Week of Fun and New Friends in Malacca~! Day 3 to 6<div class="MsoNormal">
Due to midyear examinations, lagging school internet connections, and the lack of memory power, I forgot to post the continuation. XD Sorry for that. Here it is~ (The first part is <a href="http://comicomislife.blogspot.com/2012/04/whole-week-of-fun-and-new-friends-in.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a>.)<br />
<br />
Day 3: Wednesday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We got to see the
former Prime Minister in person today! Tun Dr. Mahathir gave a very nice and
humorous speech about global unity. After that, while waiting for the bus to
arrive, my friends and I chatted a bit with the Indian exchange students, and
made friends with the SMS Sembrong people, whom, as I would find out later,
will be with me throughout the rest of the week. (The two girls were taking
part as presenter and copresentor. The other two, boys obviously, were useless
people who got picked just to watch, like me.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
During the
ice-breaking session with the international, I coincidentally met with a
Portuguese who stayed at my school the day before, because of the number 8.
(LOL, so lucky.) Fortunately, she said her stay there was very nice, and the
tour guides very courteous. Phew.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
At night, we were
invited to go for dinner at the Malacca’s Chief Minister’s residence. It was
BIG. MASSIVE. GIGANTUOUS. And it comes with its own separate gym. O.O
Unfortunately, we weren’t able to enter and take a look around. But we were
able to take pictures around the residence. :D I got to be in many people’s
pics (I didn’t bring a camera, y’see. Had to be photobombing!) That also made
up for the fixed seatings. Had loads of fun with the Italians, Giulia and
whatshisname, and the STF girls. :)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Day 4: Thursday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today was the start
of the two-day presentation of the international participants and fifteen local
gold medalists. (Obviously my schoolmate and my old friend were included.) I
felt very sorry for some of the international delegates, whose presentations
were overshadowed by the locals’ experienced demonstration. After the three
hour session, we had a workshop, in order to write our resolutions based on
Tun’s keynote address. The captain was a Sabahan girl named <st1:place w:st="on">Sahara</st1:place>
(Who preferred to be called Sara) and a Lao girl, Susen was secretary. I became
vice-captain reluctantly, due to my wrong timing to stand up and adjust my
trousers while they were contemplating on their victim. In the end, I had to conduct
everything (The leader used her veto power to force the whole leader work on
me. XD) It was during this session that I realized people thought I was 16!
(Technically, I still was, but coming to 17.) It was a very shocking
compliment, to be called one year younger, but it was a compliment nonetheless.
I think it was due to my cute boyish looks. (Though they pointed out that it
was because of my immaturity. XD)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
And finally, the most
anticipated event of the day (And the whole week)… Sightseeing and shopping
‘round Malacca!!! It was the first time I
went sightseeing with a bunch of friends (And one with most, excluding
me and another Form Fiver, being a year younger.) and teachers. We stopped at
the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Taming</st1:placename> <st1:placename w:st="on">Sari</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Tower</st1:placetype></st1:place>
(The first gyrotower in Malaysia.) and went up 80m into the air, discovering a
breathtaking 360-degree bird’s eye view of Malacca drenched in the evening
sunlight.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Afterwards, we went
off the beaten track (After listening to Madame Chin, a jolly Chinese teacher,
and her lengthy explanation time constraints and the time-consuming schedule)
and rode on the river cruise a half hour earlier than the others; that way we’d
gain more shopping time. Alas, it was not meant to be; we ordered food at
Chicken Rice Shop 15-20 minutes before departure, and the bus was far away. It
was pretty ironic, because we had Madame Chin with us, who didn’t like people
being late. Nevertheless, we had lotsa fun, and had plenty of laughs while
eating.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Day 5: Friday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today was pretty
uneventful compared to yesterday; it was like yesterday, sans the sightseeing.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8792840572078655195" name="_GoBack"></a> Once again, I had to commandeer the workshop, much to my
leader’s glee. We learnt new games, one from <st1:country-region w:st="on">Indonesia</st1:country-region>,
and one from <st1:country-region w:st="on">Malaysia</st1:country-region>
(Yeah, I didn’t know. Awkward.) So many interesting things occurred (One of them
being the international student’s fluency to say the word Buaya/Crocodile and
Biawak/Lizard) And then came the gift exchange! I spent most the time yesterday
night shopping for souvenirs (Only RM9) Then I saw some bringing in gifts from
their schools. All of us went blur- headed, thinking whether what each other
brought was wrong!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
At night, we had the
closing ceremony. Everyone used this time to talk with everyone else, since it
was the last day, and the international delegates had to go back. You could see
everyone bringing and exchanging books, jotting down contact infos, ensuring
future contact with each other, even though they are states and countries
apart. Stayed up late to mingle with people, learning new and interesting
things ‘bout different languages and cultures. It was pretty sad though, as my
16 year-old mates had to leave that night too. But I shrugged it off, and had a
fitful slumber.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Day 6: Saturday<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The morning started
with a light drizzle, voicing the sadness and reluctance to let go of this
moment. But nothing lasts forever, right? I just hope I could see them again,
in the near future, if God wills it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So that’s it from me
‘bout this seemingly awesome weeklong adventure. <span style="font-family: Wingdings;">J</span> Will be uploading pics (If I have the time. And if I
find some. I need to scour at friend’s FB accounts.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-57764501636947796272012-04-20T01:11:00.000-07:002012-04-20T01:31:16.590-07:00It Was My BDay... And Nobody Remembered...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyoXZJnlGa5IRjKHhH3uBAzZO_kjk6m7Qq-N8f6GaTXIfbGpubITeh8dyFcYwel82GkcK5wQHoDP993wX-SGK8bNS2HRczLAKdt8NEDX4VvqkIjDrbnVjXxbn1IoCp2TtMdGC8ejsKyDY/s1600/P4150007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyoXZJnlGa5IRjKHhH3uBAzZO_kjk6m7Qq-N8f6GaTXIfbGpubITeh8dyFcYwel82GkcK5wQHoDP993wX-SGK8bNS2HRczLAKdt8NEDX4VvqkIjDrbnVjXxbn1IoCp2TtMdGC8ejsKyDY/s320/P4150007.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Reading Room</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span lang="EN-US">I was in the reading room on the ground
floor of my dormitory block, when I received a call from my mother. It struck
me as weird, as I had only sent her a text asking her to check whether the
deadline of the KFC Star Create competition falls on the 15<sup>th</sup>, and
she, being the typical cheapskate when it comes to words, would reply one word;
‘yes’ or ‘no’. I picked up the call, and surprise, surprise, my sister’s voice
rang into one ear and out the other, screaming ‘Happy 17<sup>th</sup> birthday,
Abang!’ Utterly surprised, I was, and glancing at my watch, I realised that
indeed, </span><span lang="EN-GB">the long hand
struck 12. Now, now, before you say it’s impossible to forget one’s birthday, I
did know it’d be my birthday, but as I’d been complete absorbed in checking my
essay during the whole hour prior that, I’d completely forgotten. After
chatting with my family underneath the coffee table (The school rules states in
black and white that phones are forbidden.), I took out my parents’ gift given
to me a few days earlier, on a Wednesday, since they couldn’t be with me on my
special day (A solid reason why I shouldn’t be able to forget my birthday.) – a
brand new, glossy red camera! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgalvsgeUCdRmbL6A006_GgZPEU1pwO8fl_qDYCXtAUKaL8N5QCAHmw9SPkAvu4q5UJFl2yPxcb6IyqRXwOtGerxsJfLBC0qPILBScxM6KFJ3T6ALvcZ3sVRS7ucsbDFt8-BF5ijbrAvVI/s1600/P4150021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJDamdOcWswDL2sSMecNe7MseOw9n02Qc9DhUKXA5rc6DcMrWs5icCmZZgEWuiVpKbHrKOJ8aVt8URh0efWjYhPqjBzoGOYNVpIIOoAtQiDNsmHgvf4oo9D07ams9-A2tuFm_mma1Moo/s1600/P4150017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJDamdOcWswDL2sSMecNe7MseOw9n02Qc9DhUKXA5rc6DcMrWs5icCmZZgEWuiVpKbHrKOJ8aVt8URh0efWjYhPqjBzoGOYNVpIIOoAtQiDNsmHgvf4oo9D07ams9-A2tuFm_mma1Moo/s320/P4150017.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Busy with work, even on my BDay...</span></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgJnwqf3FNXzEsvXfHjZP58BDxKLbZ0lRNn7WXg9A5AH6_2Uy0PXs-G9VIYnVetI7g5KUB_LFR2NCris_rbwJCnkCZo-cD7wnIOv_jnIKt0RWfxoJFKU-WZ-kRatHixtiYF80quHKdpI/s1600/P4150020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIgJnwqf3FNXzEsvXfHjZP58BDxKLbZ0lRNn7WXg9A5AH6_2Uy0PXs-G9VIYnVetI7g5KUB_LFR2NCris_rbwJCnkCZo-cD7wnIOv_jnIKt0RWfxoJFKU-WZ-kRatHixtiYF80quHKdpI/s320/P4150020.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I spent the
day unlike my previous birthdays before this; busy being undetected and low
profile. There’s a good reason for this. There’s a tradition at my school
regarding birthdays. The said tradition involves a large group of people
(Preferably 15+) beating up the birthday boy, if possible in a dark classroom,
at night, during preparation class. And I don’t want the same happen to me. So
obviously, I made sure all sources that hint at my birthday, however miniscule
it were, halts before the precious information gets into the wrong hands.
Unfortunately, my dorm mate teased me, telling me he knew my birthday.</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And that was why I wiped off my birth date
from my Facebook account temporarily. That, and another reason; to find out
whether anyone would care enough to remember my birthdate. It was a regrettable
action, seeing as none of my friends bothered to wish me a happy birthday.
Well, one did, a close friend and a sensei of mine, but it was a tad late, but
I don’t mind. All the wishes I received were from family members. Well, serves
me right for being curious. But at least I knew how dependant people are for
Facebook.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> At the end of the day, no one dangerous knew
it was my birthday. Yeah, my close schoolmates knew my birthday, but they </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">weren't the type to get all excited over an ambush. What was surprising was
that my knowing dorm mate didn’t wish me. Turned out he forgot it. Then he
tells me that a Korean star’s birthday falls on Wednesday. Guess I’m less
important than his idols.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-34653460887314787132012-04-17T06:39:00.001-07:002012-05-13T08:57:53.012-07:00A Whole Week of Fun and New Friends in Malacca~! Day 1 and 2<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Two weeks ago, on a
fine Sunday night, in the reading room, I was given a difficult choice; either
to go to Muzaffar Shah School (MOZAC) for the Fully Residential School’s
International Symposium (FRSIS) for a WHOLE WEEK… Or stay in school, due to
drama practice. I initially declined, but after talking ‘bout it with a close
friend, and much, much consideration, I changed my mind and packed my bags.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> It was the best
decision of my entire life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> To tell you guys my
awesome and fun weeklong adventure, I shall tell the tale day by day (Mind you,
it’s a tad long. This is personally for my own reference, and sharing it with
you guys seems more exciting.):<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Day 1: Monday</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> After arriving at
MOZAC at ‘round 11 and checked ourselves in, we did ABSOLUTELY NOTHING (Other
than eating and sleeping.) The reason for the lack of activity is to let all 63
residential schools’ representatives reach the destination.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 63!? I hear you
scream in terror. Yup. That would make the number of participants, let’s see… 4
per school… Times 63… Ah, 252. Excluding the twenty-something Indian exchange
students staying at the girl’s dormitories (The symposium is part of their two
week stay in Malaysia.) How is it that they’re able to fit all the guests into
the dorms, already packed full of MOZAC students? Simple: Give the MOZAC
students a week’s holiday. Lucky them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBIrdCjJFzMFULGhuzpSFgguGADF6segbFNlWDDybgaHBuaeYIohlADOONSlHZyJ8nNizq77xsACeGlxigDZEVccFW9sai8Ij7wmnHXfr896k3UaGjffUgBQiy9hUO3ZaQBtF37uUSldc/s1600/block+putra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBIrdCjJFzMFULGhuzpSFgguGADF6segbFNlWDDybgaHBuaeYIohlADOONSlHZyJ8nNizq77xsACeGlxigDZEVccFW9sai8Ij7wmnHXfr896k3UaGjffUgBQiy9hUO3ZaQBtF37uUSldc/s320/block+putra.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The boys' dormitory. The open shower's behind the stairs.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> During my exploration
of the school grounds (Which usually occurs whenever I’m bored.), I find one of
many shocking discoveries; their showers have NO DOORS! And there’s a roofless
shower on the ground floor, for all to see~ How was I supposed to shower
without people watching me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytF9M9pFdSMBgSmgbQPchq0XKEBMzum7E_55jVqvYIFYsRB81i1IdLvO1ETEnFIJvjkem1JVdVzcTdyfYPD48CK6ZxpSu6NF_pXGe5k2t8watI50VIg9S0CTy_gHvxvF6gWMt_1_fBn0/s1600/mozac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjytF9M9pFdSMBgSmgbQPchq0XKEBMzum7E_55jVqvYIFYsRB81i1IdLvO1ETEnFIJvjkem1JVdVzcTdyfYPD48CK6ZxpSu6NF_pXGe5k2t8watI50VIg9S0CTy_gHvxvF6gWMt_1_fBn0/s320/mozac.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is MOZAC. Did I mention it was on a hill? :3</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Day 2: Tuesday</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Today was the day of
the competition. I left for the hall at ‘round 7.45… After taking a shower in
the toilet (Hey, I ain’t weird. Half of the participants did the same thing.).
It’s basically a public speaking kind, where all 63 presenters present their
presentations (Duh), based on the theme ‘Global Culture Generates World Unity’,
and what better place to have it but at MOZAC, one of few multi-racial boarding
schools in Malaysia? Most were common, like how food can start unity of races,
and only a few managed to catch my attention (Like the Kenyah tribe in Sarawak,
and the miniscule, yet fascinating fact that Fijians love fat people.) I didn’t
managed to see all of the presentations presented (What, you expect me to be
able to be present at all ten sessions simultaneously?) and unfortunately, I
didn’t get to see my friend’s one, as his session was held in a small
classroom, and there were limited spaces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfAQr1cM__FUeF3XniQgpuvcYwMtcCbZBVBVcO_GR7Bx_qcYpsZH2dO9FJ6ASTWxGXgYjUHgwSBWMj2HmQXjYbffsCmqvkqTL792LlSOD-VErcpXYwGrtl6mYAUTwKGGAjwgRUmicfPY/s1600/hazeem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmfAQr1cM__FUeF3XniQgpuvcYwMtcCbZBVBVcO_GR7Bx_qcYpsZH2dO9FJ6ASTWxGXgYjUHgwSBWMj2HmQXjYbffsCmqvkqTL792LlSOD-VErcpXYwGrtl6mYAUTwKGGAjwgRUmicfPY/s320/hazeem.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is Hazeem. :)</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> The ice-breaking
session, for me, was the best activity of the day. Not only did it give me a
chance to mingle with other people, I also bumped into my old friend (Hazeem’s
his name.)! Such a funny coincidence, to meet because of the colour red (We
were grouped into four teams based on the piece of coloured paper behind our
tags.) We were then grouped by the numbers on the coloured paper, and would
stay in the same group during the ice-breaking session with the international
students the next day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> Later that night, I,
my schoolmate and an acquaintance we got to know with this wicked British
accent auditioned for Master of Ceremony. Unfortunately and surprisingly, all
of us failed. And the weird thing is, the boys they chose were not that good
compared to my friends. The girls were marvelous, though. And that made me a
bit green with envy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I shall continue this tale on a later date, as it is too long. :) Ciao. :D</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8792840572078655195.post-42670481734743585492012-02-23T00:17:00.002-08:002012-02-23T00:17:59.413-08:00My Embarrassing Speech and What I Learned From It~!I remember my first speech as if it was yesterday. Ah... Oh wait, it WAS yesterday. And it was disastrous, I can tell you that. I had it all planned in my head, what I was gonna do, what I was gonna say. And when I steeped on the stage and grasped the mike in my hands, it all went POOF. When I looked back, I realised I made too many mistakes, and gave the audience (The students.) too little info. And as soon as I stepped off the stage, I sank to the ground. Funny how my legs knew when to lose their strength at just the right moment.<br />
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Simply put, it was a failure. I lost all my confidence back there. Being the emotional me, I finally broke down when I unexpectedly bumped into my English teacher, whom I avoided on purpose out of guilt for not doing better. It's okay now, though. I'll just have to... Find a dark corner... A-and weep my heart out quietly. *sniff*<br />
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Still, I learned many things from the embarrassing incident:<br />
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<li><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-text-indent-alt: -18.0pt; text-indent: -36.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>i.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span><!--[endif]-->Never trust the timetable<o:p></o:p></div>
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This was the main factor of the failure of my
speech. Initially, as it was written on paper, my speech was due a week later.
My teacher, however, had a sudden change of heart, and decided to bring it
earlier as ‘there would be many future events , and there would be no time during the coming weeks’.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-text-indent-alt: -18.0pt; text-indent: -36.0pt;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>ii.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span><!--[endif]-->Never confide in your joker friend<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is very much a must if you have doubts
on your choice of topic. I had chosen my topic a week earlier (What was my
topic, you ask. Wait for it. Read on.) had it all planned out. Then two days
before my turn, I made the mistake of asking for my joker friend’s opinion. ‘Boring.’
Was his reply, which panicked me. As a result, I spent the final day trying to think of other fascinating topics instead
of focusing on my choice.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>iii.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span><!--[endif]-->Write your points down...<o:p></o:p></div>
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... Uness you’re sure your memory won’t
fail, you however strong it might be, when you face the audience. Trust me, you
do not want to hem and haw while you talk in front of them. If you think it’s
annoying when other people do that, it’s annoying to them when YOU do that.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>iv.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span><!--[endif]-->Choose a suitable, tease-proof topic to talk
about when you talk to a audience that's prone to teasing<o:p></o:p></div>
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If you don’t mind being the centre of
attention, don’t mind me, just carry on reading the next point. My topic was
something you wouldn’t hear usually/ awkward at my school... It’s entitled...
Ugh... ‘Puppy Love’. My audience was obviously the type who likes to tease
their mates at every, and I mean EVERY chance they could get. Put the two
together, and BAM! You get called Puppy for the rest of the day... And most
probably the rest of the year.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Heck, when I stepped into the library, the
trainee teacher took one look at me and yelled, ‘It’s Puppy Love!’ Yes, even
teachers called me that for the whole day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span>v.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span><!--[endif]-->Don't be too hard on yourself<o:p></o:p></div>
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This is the most valuabe thing I learnt
that day. All I thought after the speech was:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b> OMG,
IT WAS SO BAD. I’M DOOMED. IT WAS TERRIBLE, I COULD SEE IT IN THEIR EYES. THEY’RE
DISAPPOINTED. I’M A FAILURE. I’M SO DUMB. WHAT A COWARD... ETC.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Yeah, it’s true. I felt that negative the
whole day. But, throughout the day, friends and teachers came up to me and
said, ‘Hey, nice speech! It was funny! Even the headmaster lauged!’ (What,
really? Achievement unlocked! :D), ‘You were very calm, despite the fact that
you were panicking.’, ‘You had very nice points!’, ‘It’s okay, it was good
enough. Your friends were like “Go, you can do it!” when you paused and cried.’(I
didn’t realise they were cheering me on. I didn’t know I was CRYING ONSTAGE. My
life is RUINED. D:) One even told me to stop being too hard on myself, and not
to give up. It’s a relief knowing that they were feeling the opposite of what I
thought. :)<o:p></o:p></div>
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That’s all the lessons I could think of from
that speech. It wasn’t all that bad in the end. At least it inspired me to
write a short story. Have a nice day~! :D<o:p></o:p></div>
</li>
</ul>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0