Unseen Footsteps

The Parcel

2012-01-25T12:19:00.000+08:00

As a gentle reminder to my loyal readers, the videos I embed on my blog aren't (just) for decoration. You're strongly encouraged to view them at whichever stage I post. If it's at the start, view it before you start reading. Smack in the middle, view it before you continue reading the next part. And of course, enjoy the video if it's in the end before you leave. There's a reason I chose such decorations......

Though mostly cylindrical, they come in different shapes and sizes. Fitting them into a square box takes patience, and making sure the weight stays within limit takes time. Preparing this parcel for my sister on a far away land before the lunar new year has become a custom.

The parcel contains jars and a few boxes of her favourite cookies, and it would arrive just in time as a token of love from my parents for the Chinese New Year, though some crushed and shattered till she'd need a spoon to scoop them up.

My mum, claiming that the shells were heavy, cracked a whole packet of hoi sam gor. She weighed the jars and boxes one by one on our small scale, jotting down each measurement and summing them up. My dad instructed me to print her address large enough for the blind to read, which I wasted papers because of negligent mistakes. And he was willing to pay a delivery fee that was more expensive than the contents of the parcel.

Not at all life-changing, truly inspiring events that everyone should take heed, but these are the little things that they can do to warm her heart on a cold country; to bring a little festive joy to her; and to satisfy her itchy mouth and noisy stomach.

Let your actions speak, and those who listen would hear you loud and clear even if you whisper.

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!!!

51 & Still Going For Her Son

2012-01-12T00:00:00.000+08:00

At this age, after panting through more than a half-century, you would expect the person to start retreating from a strenuous life. But instead of tuning down the pace, it seems that God has better ideas for my mum. At least my presence makes it easier for Him to come up with those ideas......

Enrolling into uni has not only turned my life upside down but has also stretched my mum's daily routine. Before that, she didn't need to get stuck in the morning rush daily, wait aimlessly around uni for hours for my day to end and then brace the evening KL congestion again. As I enter a phase when parents would start to slacken their grip on their children, my mum has to hold me ever so tightly, making sure that I can continue to chart my journey for as far as God permits.

She always says that I've made her proud, achieved more than she's done for me. But I've said it many times before and I'll keep on repeating: Whoever I am is moulded by the ones around me, and my mum is the biggest potter's hand. The discipline ingrained in me; the demeanour I portray; and the health that still sustains me are all due to her heartfelt acts and thoughtful teaching. Even at this age, I still need her watchful eyes, keeping whatever I'm doing in check with my ever-diminishing strength.

I pray that as my family unfolds what He has planned for us, my mum will be refreshed with a new zest and be equipped with His wisdom to see us through.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Mum!

I came across a saying which strikes at the heart of our infant friendship. Such a thought-provoking line, one that serves as the perfect gift that I'd like to dedicate to you:

"Coincidence: when God chooses to be anonymous"

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Pauline!

Res Judicata

2011-12-31T21:38:00.000+08:00

I want to share with you one of my family traditions, one which has been steadfastly practised since as far as my memory can tell. It's a culture so rooted in my family that my sis obediently adheres to even at thousands of miles from home. It is none other than catching Hong Kong TVB dramas.

In the recently concluded Forensic Heroes 3, the series expectantly ended with a cliffhanger. The star-studded cast walk gayly towards the crime scene, where a knife is stabbed on the chest of each of the dead clowns.

I have a problem with the cliffhanger. Not how the cast look as if they were on a catwalk, but I have a problem with the victims - the clowns. For all you know, I think I have a fear of clowns. I don't know why or when this fear started, but when I see clowns - the symbol of happiness for all - my blood runs cold and every fibre in me unsettles.

Before you think it's weird, remember that every man has a damning weakness......

Getting back to track, tradition has to inevitably keep up with the change of times. Though my mum and dad hold on to this culture daily (my mum so faithful till she would doze off on the sofa while carrying out this sacred culture), I, as a shameful heir of my family, has forgone this practice.

And the big "L" is the guilty culprit.

I won't tell you that a lecturer said the critical thinking required in this profession is above any other. Neither will I tell you that another said if we can survive for 4 years in this premier law school. we won't just be good, we will be damn good. What I will confide in you is that for a course that demands such physical vigour and mental prowess, I was never, am not and will never be up to the standard.

The proof is that I'm barely passing the tests, tumbling over the borderline pass with 1 or 2 marks to spare. As Semester 1 draws to an end where I will begin 2012 with my first major law exams, I'm dragging my crippled feet towards the starting grid, all the while praying that I have enough fuel to finish the lap. I don't, or rather, I can't care about my position compared to the leading pack. I just want to complete a lap.

And as I turn over the last corner going for the speed trap, I'm still wondering whether I should have joined this race at all.

On one Sunday in the last 14 weeks of the sem, I went to church to seek an answer. Many questions were on my mind and my heart was heavy with much worries. Yet I didn't know what exactly that made me so tired. I couldn't tell what exactly that made me so lost. I just went to church, in hope to find a message I was searching for to have my burden lifted.

Before the guest speaker took the stage, the senior pastor said that we were there not by chance, but by divine appointment. Well I thought it should be, as anything not divine was crumbling down for me. Up the stage an Australian doctor went. He animatedly shared the story of Elijah's restoration. He was a prophet who witnessed and lived through some of the most wondrous works of God. Yet when he was pitted against overwhelming challenges, Elijah grew tired and weary and became discouraged.

And he ran away, only for God to restore him, and sent him back to do what he was supposed to do.

The guest speaker then ended his sermon with a reading of Psalm 77. Only when I read it again when I needed to write this post did I realise that my blog's description was in this chapter. At that time, I stopped reading when the pastor reached Verse 11: I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.

I remembered how God led me through hurdles and after hurdles and after hurdles to where I am today. I remembered how He pushed me through seemingly insurmountable health conditions. And I remembered no matter how hard, tough and rough I thought my miserable life was, life went on, and before I realised it, I completed yet another phase of my life.

Never have I needed His strength more than I need today. It breaks me that when I'm deep in prayer, the phrase which keeps crossing my mind is "things will only get tougher for you." But my heart is assured by the people He has placed in my life; by His promise that I'll never be alone; and by the love I will experience in those moments of need. To understand the meaning of faith, hope and love, is perhaps what I'm here to learn.

Let hope RISE, and darkness tremble in your holy light

Let's end with another TVB drama - No Regrets. There's a character in the series named Ching Ching who has a heart problem. When the doctors say she is in her last days, her brother laments that even after learning to speak English proficiently; even after surviving through 8 years of war; and even being the optimistic and cheerful person she is, she'll need to go when God decides so. He thought that after going through so much, the day when she needs to depart won't come.

One day, it will come. But there shouldn't be any regrets. Because the times when she was determined to do the best she could and the times when she inspired others to live life with her were the moments when miracles happened...... and that kind of life is enough.

Transformers 3 might have been a feast to the eyes, but I think Fast 5 gripped like none other, like this soundtrack. Have a rocking end to 2011.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

The most prominent sign that I should read Law was the "L" scratch on my iPad, Recently, a scary revelation popped-up. The big "L"; while we thought it meant Law, could actually have more than one meaning......

*To my legal friends, if you were sharp enough, you would have noticed that having faith in God is the ratio decidendi, fear of clowns and Ching Ching are the obiter dictum, remembering past miracles is the doctrine of stare decisis, and me blogging instead of studying is per incuriam. Since it's the last day of 2011, you're the ones who understand why this post is titled res judicata.

My First

2011-12-19T19:55:00.000+08:00

I experienced my first today. I thought it would hurt, you know. But instead of moaning in pain, I smiled in pleasure. Maybe because I let it all out, gave everything I could, so that it's only proper for me to enjoy the process.

People don't talk about these things publicly, well at least not those who know what it's like to be shameful. Reasonable men would run into their rooms, switch off the lights and do whatever they are urged to do. I am, however, different. And having gone through it for the first time, it's exciting to share it with you.

Today, ladies and gentlemen (or perverts and geeks), I FAILED......

Fate

2011-12-18T18:58:00.000+08:00

I know. Cobwebs are shrouding everywhere. Fungi growing on each corner. Dust obscuring the words you're reading. Centuries-old fossil would be an understatement to describe the state of my blog. As much as I want to pen what has joyfully, painfully and hilariously happened during the past three months, law prohibits me to do so. The penalty imposed for breaching this rule is that big fat FAIL.

So conveniently, my friend has written a post which I think it's good for me to publish it here. Apart from keeping my loyalists (only a silent few) from revolting, the post offers a glimpse of my life from another's point of view, which I have rarely, if ever, recorded it here. This is it, Fate, written by Low Pou Leen (nicknamed "Maneater"):

Here's the brutal truth - I rarely read papers. And on one particular day, I read, only because it concerns me. It was an article on top STPM scorers.

Somehow, months later, when I was blog-hopping (if you've blog-hopped, you'd know random it is. It's how one blog links to another, and you don't stop long on ANY blog, but merely glance through each and MOVE ON), I stopped by James' blog. I wouldn't normally hang around blogs of these kinds for more than 10 seconds. Words words words- bluuerrrggh. Unseen Footsteps- corny title. Cliche design. Seen it a thousand times. (Sorry, James! =p)

But somehow, the name "James Low" struck a chord. Truth be told, his picture wasn't even in the papers (not the one I read, at least). Nevertheless, his name was mentioned. And, it's true that I've come across his name, but just that ONE mere time. And MONTHS later, his MERE name struck a chord. What's even funnier is, James Low isn't really a queer name, to begin with. And I went on to google his name, only to find out that he's one of the STPM top scorer, and I guess that's how his name struck a chord with me then.

I thought "what the heck, I am here, might as well leave a message", and went on to drop a comment in his blog, congratulating him, and letting him know how I came across him from the papers. And that's how I came to know James.

Reading James side of the story, I can't help but to feel that it IS perhaps fated that our paths should meet, and at that very moment too. It's just that I've never really thought of it that way. I am not exactly a strong believer of religion - nevertheless I believe in Karma.

I recall thinking to myself "We have the same surname! He's my family!", or so my father always puts it. My father would go on and on, telling me how all the "Low's" are well-off, intelligent and,successful! XD and I've never really believed him, until James came along, and I thought- hey, maybe he IS telling the truth afterall.

There are many instances where James thanked me. But if it's really like how James put it, that it's God's will, then I suppose God did not put me into James life, but the other way around instead. Many times, I felt like thanking James instead, for being a part of my life. Though James may not agree or understand, but if God exists, He and I, we both know why James is the answer to my prayers.

And it's funny how I had the feeling that he WILL be a part of my life the moment I dropped my comment in his blog, like how I've always had a feeling I'd end up in the legal field. =)

A couple of weeks before university started, she told me that I might not be able to recognise her because she didn't look as good as her pictures (though I'd never said her pictures looked good anyway... XD). Egoistically, I said I would. On day one, when the 1st years were walking past me, I paid attention It's a normal reaction for strangers to keep their heads down as if they were passing their primary headmasters. The sign, therefore, was that she would dare to look me in the eyes, and maintain contact for a few milliseconds.

And she did; smiled and waived, before we entered into an unforgiving field, threatening all the time to cause miscarriage of sanity.

Pauline, you don't need to look beyond yourself to prove what your father says. You are a testament to who Low's are, and if you want to be reminded, take out your coverstory in The Star and read it again. As for my appearance in your life, I don't know how I answered your prayers (it's a wonder what kind of prayers a Maneater has... LOL). I'd like to, but not now, not when the One who brought me to you doesn't want to reveal it yet......

*Unseen Footsteps is old enough an artifact to be exhibited in dinosaurs museum, but I don't intend to shut it down. Never. Not when more amusing, heartwarming and enlightening stories are yet to be told. Stay tuned for the next level.

8 Weeks Into Law

2011-11-11T23:11:00.000+08:00

It's a conspiracy theory. A heresy. Outright fabrication. I may not have earned the qualification of a lawyer, but I'm jumping to sue those who claim STPM IS THE TOUGHEST THING EVER!!! Toughest thing my crippled feet! Compared to what I'm going through now, STPM - the dreadful, horrifying, pass-it-and-nothing-will-be-harder exam - seem to be the honeypot of Winnie the Pooh.

Just ask my maid. She'd tell you that it's worse than my worst time in STPM. She herself has fallen sick twice since the start of this nightmare.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's my blunt mind, poor stamina and whining mood which are not up to even the least requirement of this profession. At the beginning of September, things got so out-of-sorts till I did ask myself Am I at the right place doing the right thing? Now, at my mid-sem break after 2 months of lecture, I still can't assure myself that I am where I should be doing what I should do.

Remembering what a TV programme narrated, a disaster is a string of unfortunate events, one leading to another until the tragedy happens. Apart from being sick during Week 2 and 3 of the semester. (and I haven't completely caught up with studies by now!), I didn't reveal the twists and turns which followed through, events that spun my life out of control and threw me into the abyss.

My grandfather passed away on the morning of 19 October 2011, and we took 3 days for prayers and sending off according to the Buddhist custom. A week after that, my laptop - the tool I use for everything and the one by my side for SPM and STPM - got stolen. And the following week, the week which had 4 tests, sickness chose to visit me again.

If I were to rate my progress of learning compared to what have been taught so far, I would say it's merely 30%.

And finals are 6 weeks later.

After all that's happened, it did cross my mind that maybe I should just forgo Law. Maybe it's time to put my hands up, wave the white flag and admit defeat. I'm barely coping with studies and frankly, performing below par, though still a pass, will be hard to accept for me.

Yet everytime that nagging feeling to give up kicks in, I'm reminded over and over again that I am in the right place doing the right thing.

I'm reminded by my lecturer that this field is about language, reading, writing and arguing to be precise, all of which incline towards my interest, towards what I've been trained, especially in writing.

I'm reminded that since machines could fail me at any time, backing-up is of paramount importance, and it must have been God's voice which stirred me to back-up 2 days before my laptop was stolen.

And I'm reminded of the people who have been placed into my life at this juncture. That 30%, 25% would be due to a person. A person whom I thought was just an assurance that Law was the right choice. But God has better ideas. She was there collecting notes and recording lectures for me the first time I was unwell. The second time, she was there informing me of replacement classes and upcoming tests. Even when my laptop got stolen, she was there, almost immediately, with materials in hand for me to photocopy.

Thank you so much for your help, Pauline. I'm still surviving in Law school mostly because of you.

During the orientation week 2 months back, I was asked to introduce myself to the seniors in the auditorium. Before I knew it, a mic was shoved into my face and I blurted out a few lines. The last sentence, which drew a YEAH from a senior and applause from the rest, was this:

"With the help of my batchmates, and of course all of you, I think I will be able to excel (in Law)."

That holds true, and will always be. If God keeps me for 4 years all the way to my graduation, it'll be my greatest achievement yet, a miracle created by many.

Welcome To Dog's Life

2011-09-11T00:00:00.000+08:00

That was how a lecturer welcomed us when he gave a talk about discipline in the Faculty of Law. He even set the whole auditorium with 111 Law freshies laughing when he said, "You wanna work alone ar? You MATI I tell you!" The MATI was loud, hitting his point hard and clear. Before that vocal professor was a more subtle lecturer who introduced us to the semester system. He started his presentation with the following Spanish proverb:

"It is better to be a mouse in a cat's mouth, than a man in a lawyer's hands."

By the end of that session on Tuesday, four lady seniors, dressed in white shirts, black coats and skirts/pants, powered into the auditorium and hushed all of us with their authoritarian instructions. As if showcasing what the proverb means, they wore a serious, solemn expression, trying hard to be Adolf Hitler. If their aim was to momentarily stun us, I think they did a pretty good job.

They handed us the brochure for Faculty's orientation next week, and I thought to myself "Oh, not again." Honestly, I'll be glad that if we could just get the lectures and tutorials started. But that orientation means another round of exemption letter, explanation of why I can't attend and the unduly stress of adhering to the rules stipulated for us throughout next week.

And all these were thrown to me as I try to figure out the confusing timetable without the help of any roommates. Maybe I'd been so stress-free for eight months that I've forgotten how to handle pressing matters. The following day, at a time when I needed all guns blazing, my maid had water in her barrel, forcing me to think of fishing someone from a sea of coursemates to sit beside me. Well I knew one of them, and I simply had to smile and ask for her kind favour.

Call it man's ego, but thinking of how to explain why I needed somebody beside me and why it would be her; and the fact that it would be our first face-to-face conversation; and crushed beneath a delusional schedule with classes and orientation activities, these irritating occurrences paralysed my mind and caused immense disturbance.

On that morning, all I could do was meditate on these words:

As it turned out, unlike what's scheduled on paper, we had to sit for a test (all that worrying had been completely useless). It was a placement test for the compulsory English Proficiency for Law. Even then, problems surfaced as I didn't have my table and laptop - my artilleries - meaning I had to use unfamiliar weapons to fight, thankfully, against an enemy I knew all too well. Under imperfect conditions, I slothed through the test.

It must have been the side effects of stress, because I started this essay - Is the Internet the best source of information? - with this sentence: I have to google just to answer the question. In fact, for my 2nd sentence, I started with this phrase: Before you fail me for cheating...

Desperate times require desperate measures.

The stoic ladies, along with a similarly dressed man, came again on Thursday to answer our questions regarding the orientation. They projected the same menacing aura, and towards the end of their session, the man whispered to me, "Lepas ni nak jumpa ya." If I were one of the other students, I would thought, "Oh God, he's in trouble! Poor boy, he's gonna be grilled by them!" While I can't reveal what eventually happened, let's just say the 5-minute talk was one of the most pleasant event I went through last week.

A dark jungle lies ahead, and my torchlight is faulty. Though I'm AB-SO-LUTE-LY clueless as to what's going to happen next, the first song playing on the radio as I was heading back home on last Thursday, the final day of faculty programmes, was this:

I'm not a fan of K-Pop. But this song has been playing so frequently on 988.fm that I have to notice. Looking at its lyrics, I think I really need to scream a song.

Today My Sis Is 25 Years Old

2011-09-10T00:00:00.000+08:00

I swear. When I was young, the job that I knew my sis would do horribly would be teaching. How could she ever educate others if she couldn't even teach me Maths? She irked at the slightest sign of not understanding a concept. She blasted if I couldn't compute what seemed to be the easiest thing in the world to her. You tell me, how could that kind of impatient lady be a teacher? Not to mention a well-liked, appreciated and loved teacher?

Even till now, after doing well as an English teacher at Language Studio for six months, and will probably be in this profession in the future, I still couldn't understand why.

It was during that part-time stint that she came across Cluedo, a board game that I lose 9 out of 10 times. Together with my mum, we had a brief spell of playing Cluedo and Monopoly Deal daily, reliving the past days when board games were what iPads are to kids nowadays. It was fun pretending to lose and giving them chances. And I won once or twice out of so many rounds to make their victories worthier.

The period created more memories for us as a family before she would fly back to Sheffield. Previously, everyone was emotional at one time or another when she had gone there for the first time. Since we had experienced parting, wouldn't it prepare us to better handle our emotions? Well, it seems that years of crying in front TVB dramas have punctured our tear ducts...

It started on the morning of last Sunday, 4 Sept, when her eyes were red and slightly swollen, an unmistakable indication that she had to leave the comfort of home once more had dawned upon her. Later in the evening, as I was tailing behind her after our last dinner, her hands kept reaching her eyes to wipe something off. She may have pushed her hair, but that's just denying the fact that she was trying hard to suppress her growing anxiety.

Even when we were on our way to the airport, I noticed her hands still kept wiping her eyes.

After giving into our own thoughts while we were sitting at the Viewing Area, it's time to depart. On our way to the entrance, my mum said nothing dramatic would happen, suggesting I wouldn't find any inspiration for this post. But when my sis was about to enter, she, unlike the composed lady 2 years ago, broke.

And her choking means my mum would follow suit.

And dramatising the scene, my maid said, "Aduh satu tahun sudah nak berpisah."

And then my sis hugged me as I breathed deeply to keep control.

And finally my sis hugged my dad, breaking his resolve too, as tears flowed from a man who loves dearly.

We've been through this before. We felt that cut when she'd left two years ago. And we knew all too well that we had to be strong for her to pursue her studies without any worries. But why did we cry? Why this sudden surge of expression, especially from her? As if echoing what I was thinking on our way back, the last song that played on the radio before we reached home was Why Cry by Zhang Dong Liang:

Maybe she was a carefree girl two years ago who was keen to explore. Maybe after a year on a foreign land, she had realised more than ever that nothing's better than home; nothing's greater than family; and nothing's more important than love. The path ahead is difficult. Notwithstanding the requirements demanded, she'll have to listen to critics and bear the brunts of naysayers, all too normal for a person climbing up.

But with our support and the love of Christ, she'll weather the storm and arrive back an elegant dove, embracing us with her well-trained wings.

This picture set my mum in tears again when she saw it back home. Very symbolic of my sis' protection when we need her in the future.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JIE

*Since I only send people off and don't welcome them (for health reasons), the airport has become some sort of a sad terminal for me. So do I hate that place? Not at all. Because there's where I experience the rawest emotion and the truest feeling, and know what it means to be human.

"I" Am Back

2011-09-04T00:00:00.000+08:00

HEEEEEEEELLOOOOOOO MR. JAMES!! Wow, it's been a year since I made my last appearance, and thank goodness, what a time! Well God has been so gracious to you, hasn't He? You probably have gone through the greatest moment of your life (oh where's my tissue), with lots of memories and a few stuff to remind you of them. Now, as you stand at a crossroad waiting for a new chapter to begin in hours, you're happily snoozing, drooling and dreaming of what may be...

Mr. James, I salute you for your far-fetched vision, because if you were to sell all those eggs you'd laid at home during the past eight months, you could make yourself a fortune! But eggs aside, if you wished the break could be beneficial, indeed it has This sabbatical period has... changed your lifelong goal. You used to dream of denting the universe or at least, making a difference in someone's life.

But now you don't want to do that any more.

What happened, Mr. James? Why?

Oh, there goes your saliva...

Never mind, I think I know exactly why. You know, you've blogged (crapped to many) much about your life during the holidays. You tried to dive deep into your history, peeling more layers to reveal unspoken truths, and your 6W 1H series has really helped you to do that. So if there's a sentence marking the change of you perception, goal and ambition, certainly it is this:

I never knew my words had made so much impact, but if others could pick a piece of my shattered dreams to build up theirs, then this is one heck of a life.
- Which Is My Ambition?

Perhaps imperfection is how you should be. Maybe unattained targets are what your life is all about. As you go on doing the best that you could under any given circumstances, no matter how the ending will be, you inspire others to do the same. You show while there's only one huge jigsaw puzzle, there are many pieces - each unique in its own shape, position and colour.

Now, you just want to be precisely you, in all your weakness.

Your dream now is to be the best of you, in all your strength.

......

Oh... NONSENSE!!!

I think I've been infected by your profoundly rubbish mind, Mr James.

You might be sleeping soundly, but it seems that your mum and sis are wide awake. So your sis is flying to UK to pursue her doctorate degree on the same day you wheel into UM. What a day! Obviously she's savouring her last night with her bed, that's if she has done packing at this wee hour. As for your mum, well she's doing what all mums would finally do when their children go off: praying and... crying?

Your sis needs prayer, Mr. James, DON'T BABBLE AND WAKE UP!!!

Pray that your sis will have a safe journey, be surrounded by good people and successfully achieve her PhD by the end of three years. Only one steps onto the plane, but she carries the pride, hope and honour of a whole family and many friends. Talking about flights, the post you wrote about her two years ago had tugged a few heartstrings. So will there be another one? Hmm... I see a cheeky smile... =P

Personal info forms? Check. Medical report? Check. Orientation fee? Check. Handsome face? Check. Mental sharpness?

......

Mental sharpness?!?!

......

MENTAL SHARPNESS!!!!!!!

Yes... err.... check?

Oh Mr. James, what else can I say, but to wish you all the best and warn you of my next return...

Divorce Letter

2011-08-26T20:09:00.002+08:00

Dear You,

We've been together for more than a decade. Throughout years of triumphs and trials, you've been such a loyal and helpful companion of mine. Almost every picture I've taken has both you and me closely together, proof that we're inseparable, inseverable and indivisible.

Our bond was so strong that if you were away from me, I'd become nothing, a lump of meat waiting to be thrown around. My body, as if showing my love for you, has grown according to your shape. Yes, that's how close we were. Even our frames have moulded into a perfect match, like how a key fit into a lock.

Now, I'm really sorry that I have to divorce you, just so that I could be a real man and find another wife...

But only after being with her for weeks did I realise that you're best I'd ever have.

Life has become, literally, a pain in the ass. I'm still not used to her openness, as I was tightly embraced by your loving arms. Although she's fairer and lighter than you, inside you were made of sterner stuff, sturdier and stronger. Even her exterior beauty is no match to your smooth, flawless coat you once had.

Oh how I've ruined you! You've traded your youthful years to provide me with success and lifelong experiences. For my sake, you've become rusted, torn off and you're legs have become wobbly.

But there's a season for everything. As if resembling my current state of life, it's time for me to change and move on. However painful it is to leave you behind and make myself one with another, I have to alter my positions and postures to familiarise myself with her.

Come next week, I'll reveal to the world who my new found love is. She'll be the one supporting my back as I start another voyage, journeying to where the Almighty leads me. Meanwhile, I'll hold a picture of her close to my heart to forget about you.

From,
Me

PS: Please don't go too far, my ex. Stay near to me so that we can have secret rendezvous when I need you badly. So long... I'll miss you... ♥

The Instrument I Would Play

2011-08-24T20:06:00.004+08:00

Even when I'd mastered the instrument I would pick up if I were able, I'd still learn to play the acoustic guitar and violin. That's because the combination of those two and the instrument dear to me is blissful, providing moments of epiphany and a rush of imagination. Played with heart, the emotion stirred by the melodies of these three tools are personally sweet to me. Maybe it's just my preference, but violin, guitar and the piano always tug a string or two.

My favourite piano song. The Twilight version - Bella's Lullaby - is good as well.

The instrument I DID play was piano. No, I wasn't hallucinating or being possessed by Mozart. When I was a kid (can't remember what age) and still had strength in both of my arms, I was taught weekly to play it. I think I could play Happy Birthday, Baa Baa Black Sheep and a few more songs for Grade 1 pianists. So if I were able on my upper body or were completely normal, it's quite obvious why my choice is the piano.

Even if my upper body was able, I wouldn't be able to do what he does at 1:57.

Maybe I yearn to let my fingers dance on the piano because I once had the ability to do so. Or maybe piano was from where I knew about music, and so I want to relive the joy of creating music myself. Reasons are plenty, but none are much more influential than years of listening my sister ~~banging~~ playing the piano.

Subconsciously, I just want to show my sis the correct way of manoeuvring around the instrument. I want to tell her so badly that the piano itself is screaming (together with my eardrums). Yes, definitely! But pushing aside what I may be thinking subconsciously, piano carries a lot of my memories.

I used to sing along when she played covers of songs. I used to hum along when she practised her classical pieces. Now, after my eardrums have become immune to her ~~pollution~~ playing, I'd become engaged when she performs Moonlight Sonata if, in the first place, I was listening intently. =P

My sis isn't on par with him. But her decent try must have awaken the whole neighbourhood.

Treading further down the road not taken, I would ensure that while I may lack the skill and deftness of Beethoven, I'd embrace the piano with emotion. Like a broken dam, the piano would be a channel where I release my overwhelming feelings to touch the others. And I'd do that in a hotel, in a bar or just by the street serenading the pedestrians.

I would, really would. But for my hope of sharing a piece of my heart with others, thank God I'm still doing exactly that, with writing, with Unseen Footsteps.

You know, with ample training for head-falling, I'd execute his moves from 1:40 to 1:45 perfectly. =D

The Book of Tomorrow by Cecelia Ahern

2011-08-20T11:07:00.000+08:00

Tamara Goodwin was a pampered 16-year-old girl who received a car and travelling packages as her birthday presents. Her life plunged into a nightmare when her father committed suicide and her house sold to clear her father's debt, leaving Tamara and her mum homeless. Much to her dismay, she had to forgo her posh lifestyle and stayed with her uncle at the country indefinitely, or at least till her mum's worsening depression was recovered.

Then Tamara found a diary that eventually changed her life. The diary, with Tamara's handwriting, had words magically being written on it. But it wasn't about what had happened today. It was what's going to happen tomorrow.

We could easily guess how the diary could change her life: the ability to know what will happen in the next 24 hours grants us changing power. By altering life, on purpose, to perfection avoids any mishap and mistakes that we know are bound to happen.

Imagine if we could foresee tomorrow. We would take another route come tomorrow if we knew an accident would happen. We would be extra attentive if we knew we would be careless the next morning. And if we knew that we would commit a mistake, we would think of ways to cover it up. Wouldn't life be a whole lot easier? Far from it.

When Tamara tried to do something contrary to what was written, the words of the diary curled backwards and looked as though they were burned. But it wasn't, according to what had changed, being re-written again. How sure are we that accidents wouldn't happen wherever we chose to detour? Or that we could be attentive to all things? Or that covering one mistake wouldn't lead to many more?

"Would you prefer to be given a life already lived too, Tamara? That way you can sit back and observe it. Or would you rather live it for yourself?

- The Book of Tomorrow by Cecelia Ahern, HarperCollins Publishing Ltd, Page 120

The beauty of life lies in its uncertainty. That life could take a drastic turn, either for good or bad, makes it imperative for us to treasure the present. That not knowing what will tomorrow bring makes us focused to live for today, to have no regrets and to worry not. That realising all could be lost the next moment makes us, like what's written at the back cover of the book, start tomorrow today.

Rating: 3 / 5

How Do You Kiss?

2011-08-17T19:53:00.004+08:00

As the above Nat Geo ad has shown, kissing is more than exchanging saliva (eww...). And as my previous sentence has shown, this post is plain factual and dead serious, with a bit of wetness to not bore you down. So for those who expected juicy details or sizzling tutorials on kissing, you must read even more meticulously to find reasons to stay away from my blog by the end of this article.

Before we dive into my points, let's watch another video, recapping one of the best kissing scenes in the Hollywood:

Instead of talking about the act of kissing, I have interest in how do you kiss in words. It seems to me that there isn't a universal way of conveying a kiss in written form. Different people spell their kisses differently, and I can't help but wonder does the variety reflects varying personalities. I'd leave that to researches who have nothing better to do. For now, let me share about what message your choice of kiss might deliver:

Mua - A soft, gentle peck on the cheek. The lips part slightly, and it reflects that the writer is shy and innocent and who might just want to show his/her care. Since it could also mean something else in Hakka/Hokkien, it's a safe gesture to address anyone. The Romans would call this kind of kiss Osculum.
Muacks - A firm smooch with sound, probably the most frequently used written kiss. The lips protrude to smack a strong kiss, indicating that the writer is intentional to give a proper, romantic or at the very least, friendly kiss. It would fall into Basium under the Romans' category.
Mwaxzh - A passionate, deep, wet, sexy and prolonged kiss. The lips plant deeply and attached like glue. Not known by many, it's created by a person as crazy and weird as the kiss itself. Use sparingly, because obviously it's amorous, fervent and infatuating. Savolium was what the Romans would have coined this kiss.

If I've carried you away to imagine too far, let's get back down and realise that in written form, they don't necessarily mean the actual kisses. Maybe it's just to express affection. Maybe it's just a sign of how close a friendship is. Or maybe it's written because everyone else does. In any way, for whatever purpose a kiss is included in your letter, it's always pleasant to testify that humans are, after all, lovable. So now I shall end it with another common type of kiss... XOXOXO

*How Do You Kiss? had the most votes when I opened a poll to let readers choose the topic for "How..." Surprisingly, only a single vote separated the three options, which means that I'm catering to audiences with very distinct tastes. Thank you for supporting Unseen Footsteps. As for those who picked either of the other two, I'll write about them, when I start another round of 6W 1H.

The Script

2011-08-13T11:53:00.002+08:00

I can't be called a fan of The Script. I can't even be sure of how many members there are in the band, let alone naming them or listing down their albums. But after coming across their first single and then searching intently for their songs on YouTube, I realise the music world is desperate for this kind of artistes - those who write meaningful, creative lyrics rather than compose catchy tunes that shout about nothing, or worse, controversial stuff.

Never mind if The Script told tales too emotional and heartbreaking.

First Single

'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me
And your heart starts to wonder where on this Earth I could be
Thinkin' maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet
And you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street
So I'm not moving, I'm not moving

(Click here for full lyrics)

Oh you got his heart and my heart and none of the pain
You took your suitcase, I took the blame.
Now I'm try'na make sense of what little remains ooh
'Cause you left me with no love and no love to my name.
(Click here for full lyrics)

Maybe because they named themselves as The Script that they've become wired to write lyrics resembling a story. Or perhaps they know one of the only ways left to make a name in the entertainment world is to fill an intellectual void, to be intelligent, and soulfully real, among a growing number of no-brainers. Whatever it is that makes them unique, they might never be as rich, famous and celebrated as their more pompous peers. But they're definitely a testament to healthy, smart and realistic music.

But we're gonna start by
Drinking old cheap bottles of wine,
Sit talking up all night,
Saying things we haven't for a while
A while ya
We're smiling but we're close tears,
Even after all these years,
We just now got the feeling that we're meeting for the first time

(Click here for full lyrics)

On a separate note, I would always listen to Boyce Avenue for their acoustic covers of pop songs. Their rendition of For The First Time is a splendid try.

Oh, there are 3 members in The Script! Realised that when I looked up videos for this post.

8

2011-08-08T20:08:00.001+08:00

"残废就不用读书吗?"

These eight words were said by my mum since I was young. Like a motto she seared that phrase into my mind, making sure that while I may be disabled physically, I could still learn and be as mentally apt as others, if not, better. Why not?

And look how far those eight words have brought me to.

"Saya pasti James akan menjadi pelajar terbaik kebangsaan."

Repeatedly emphasised by my teacher before I sat for PMR, these eight words were self-fulfilling prophecy. But beneath her encouragement, it's the confidence she had instilled me that pushed me to realise her assurance.

Adakah anda bersetuju untuk menerima tawaran ini? YA!

University hasn't started, and so I don't know how influential this decision will become. Similar to my uncertain life, it is only by years to come will I understand the twists which are taking place in my life.

Words

Possibilities

Aftermath

2011-08-06T13:55:00.002+08:00

When I first listened youth worship songs back in 2003, I thought the music just wasn't me. Nearly 10 years later, after I've gone through adolescence and get my taste changed, I can say I'm loving every bit of it, especially songs that could connect us to God in a deeper, more spiritual way. Frankly, worship songs are the best love songs ever written because, quoting from my friend, Christianity is not a religion, but a real relationship with God.

That album I was listening to was To The Ends Of The Earth by Hillsong United. They have been producing an album annually, I think, and if you haven't come across youth worship music before, please don't be surprised if you thought they're contemporary, pop or even rock music. But for 2011, in my humble opinion, I think Hillsong United has created an album that's so different, so enlightening and bringing us ever so closer to God that Aftermath is simply their best record.

And when's a better time than 2011 to bring new hope, more inspiring meaning to the word aftermath.

It's customary for a youth worship album to have a few fast and slow songs (praise and worship). But for the only quick-tempo song in Aftermath, it's one of the best Hillsong has composed, challenging us to take that leap of faith.

The first and last song of this album are my favourites, out of a beautiful range of tracks with simple, engaging lyrics. While it's better for me not to delve on the doctrinal meaning of worship because of my shallow theology knowledge, the songs speak for themselves - of who God is and what He can do in the midst of hopelessness. Uplifting us is the songs' resemblance of God's love, hope, power, strength and, especially, His word

The bridge, starting from 3:49, is why God understands and is able to solve and guide us through any hardships. Anthem of every believer!

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” - John 16:33. Through the songs' bridges, particularly those of Take Heart and Awakening. I could really feel that God would bring dawn to break the darkness, if only we would look upon Him and ask for His unfailing love.

Like the rising sun that shines
From the darkness comes a light
I hear Your voice say
This is my awakening

*To listen to all tracks, click here.

When Am I Angry?

2011-08-03T17:22:00.007+08:00

Let's blow up by saying that I have a manageable temper. Those who are close to me would agree that I'm not easily angered, and those who have actually seen me burst are only a handful. The way I express my anger may not be violent, but I verbally lash out my frustration, which is knowingly more venomous and sting deeper than physical aggression. So before we play with fire, I would like to apologise to those whom I've hurt with my sharp words, intentionally or not.

Once when my family and I were queuing to enter the cinema, an incident occurred that got my blood so boiled up I swear could cook a chicken, well done. While we were right in front of the ticket collector, a couple beside me literally jumped ahead of me, handed their tickets and walked in as if I'd never existed. Even the patron standing behind my family shook her head in annoyance and disgust.

I tell you, if I were able, I would trip them with my wheelchair and shouted, "Hey you blind ar!?" Then when the crowd fell silent and everyone was looking at the couple scrambling on the carpet floor, I would land a fatal blow, "SHAME ON YOU!!!" It did happen, in my mind, that is. I would really love to have taught them a lesson, but thank God I had to ignore those pests.

Other incidents that would generate steam out of my ear include showing of strength - not in a light way to poke fun, but when things don't go your way. Since I'm unable to retaliate, I take that as an exploitation of my disability. Another circumstance that would make me puke lava is sheer hypocrisy, those who say their principle is so and so but act contrastingly. But the most irksome of all is rotten attitude. It's one thing being knocked down by chance, but it's another when you choose to be a self-inflicted failure.

Looking back, that cutting of queue wasn't a cause massive enough for my imaginative volcanic eruption. In fact, those incidents happen often. Like any heated arguments or tyrannical happenings, anger doesn't solve anything. It does spark the initial the urge to stand up for what you think it's right, but if it isn't contained and conveyed with mutual understanding, the roots of the problem would never be extricated. And when things do turn ugly, remember that "he who angers you conquers you," as tweeted by my friend.

Still, there are times when expressing our anger in a civilised manner is necessary.. When there's a need to take a stand and fight for justice; when there's a need to voice out for the oppressed and destitute; and when there's a need to feel angry against evil, corrupt and unrighteous ways, let the burning passion for decency, morality and humanity raze down the house. That's when I am angry. What about you?

Off With Their Heads!

2011-07-31T18:04:00.004+08:00

If you have been stalking my Facebook profile, you would have noticed that I've been sick. And if you have known me for years, you would have realised that I, being sick, would suffer horribly for weeks before I even start to recover. But thank God. For 21 years living in my frail body, I finally come to my senses and do things a bit differently.

Usually when I'd fallen sick, I would rest at home, take traditional medicine and wait for days before I seek the doctor while hoping my body could shake off the illness. The rationale was that pills, tablets and syrups would so weaken my body that I could barely eat. Besides, almost every visit to the doctor had ended up on the hospital bed. However, this upcoming month of August is a precious one. So when I felt that dryness in my throat on last Wednesday evening, I knew I had to act.

The next 31 days is a period when I need to spend quality time with my family and friends before being separated by long distances from September onwards. On top of that, I have to prepare enrolment prerequisites - certs, documents and body check-up - before I wheel into Universiti Malaya on registration day. Hence, when my white blood cells were still standing on that evening, I decided to summon the killers to assist me. I called them immediately, praying that they would complement my fragile defence.

After battling for 120 hours, with the aid of Antibiotic, Panadol, Mucosolvan and Zrytec, my body is on the brink of victory. But merely the defence of my immune system and those microscopic killers couldn't have won the war. It's the love, care and prayer from my family and friends, the very people my enemy was preventing me to spend time with, that has put me back in good stead. My voice still sounds different. So killers, off with their heads!

I must strongly emphasise that the above status DID NOT happen. Nobody had nagged till I was sick to death of it. I came across this bible verse (Judges 16:16) during my daily devotion and just posted it up for fun. The fact that I was sick ~~and that my mum likes to nag~~ is just a coincidence. *wink*

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

2011-07-23T12:01:00.003+08:00

Rupert Grint and Emma Watson didn't kiss. Did they? Think again...

A week before the premier of HP7.2, StarTwo asked its Twitter followers whether they were excited or just relieved that it was coming to an end. My immediate response was relieved. Oh come on. If there's a common denominator among all eight movies, it's boredom. Yes, even for this epic finale, I could still feel bored.

Much of the hype, I think, is due to the excitement of seeing the characters you've read coming to life. So regardless of how good (or for me, boring) the movies have been, many are still drawn to adore this series as they could witness their beloved characters on screen. As for those who haven't touched the book, or like me who had only read the first page of the first book, understanding the whole plot from the films themselves was dull and nowhere near magical.

However remarkable this decade has been for Hollywood because of a boy named Harry Potter, let's just say that the notion of books better than movies till now remains a fact.

Having said that, if the director had only managed to capture a part of the showdown at Hogwarts, HP7.2 would still have been thrilling. As it turns out, he has, but that's the problem. David Yates has only captured a part of the Battle at Hogwarts.

My blood was running when Professor McGonagall confronted Snape. Adrenaline rushed when she summoned the statue-like knights to protect the school. And when she said, "I've always wanted to use that spell!" I thought this was it. The spectacle of Death Eaters trying to penetrate the school's protective shield was even more breathtaking. But then, amidst all shouting and running and flying, nothing else happened, except for more talking and shouting, as the plot slumbered to an expected ending.

The saving grace of the whole series is definitely Severus Snape. Every letter that comes out of his mouth is polished. Every movement resembles his emotional turmoil. And every slight expression he makes is simply more illustrious than HP groaning in anger or pain or constipation. Apart from Snape's performance, the rest of the leading cast are commendable. As for the battle between good and evil, which is what this falling curtain is all about, HP7.2 sparks vigorously, but not enough fuel to burn.

Now please excuse me as I want to practise laughing like Lord Voldemort...

Rating: 3 / 5

The Big "L"

2011-07-21T18:06:00.010+08:00

I remember the event on last Friday vividly. My parents and sis were out, leaving me quietly waiting at home for the clock to strike 12 in the noon, the time when the university placement results would be released online. Minutes before the hour, I refreshed the page and to my excitement, the link had been opened earlier than said. I quickly typed my IC and index number, and clicked "Enter." The 30 seconds that it took for my destiny to load was one of the longest periods I've had to go through in my life. And when I saw Sarjana Muda Undang-undang, Universiti Malaya, I laughed to myself.

If you had read Reboot, you would have known why I laughed. I'd written in that post that maybe Law is my destiny, and if it's given, I will give it a serious thought. For the first two seconds after I knew the offer, not a pinch of my heart was feeling uneasy. In fact, I felt pleasant, ready and pumped-up to go into courts debating, arguing and winning cases. Followers of Malcolm Gladwell believe that the first two seconds are all that matter. So on Friday itself, I was already 90% sure of accepting the offer.

Still, you may think my feel-good feeling was influenced by Hong Kong TVB dramas. While that's undeniable, there are more prominent signs telling me that this is the right pathway.

Throughout the weekend, I'd had been searching for signs, omens or whatever from God indicating what I should do. On Sunday, when my friend was using my iPad, he accidentally scratched the screen (=O don't worry,, I'd pasted a screen protector). Of all possible shapes he could have expertly crafted by chance to decorate the iPad, he scratched a "L." Lame and superstitious, I hear you say, but if you're like me looking desperately for assurance, you'd take that highly improbable yet so coincidental occurrence as a sign from God.

Throughout my life I haven't forcefully taken anything for or made anything happen to myself. Hence the reluctance to appeal. Besides, when I planned on how to sequence my courses for the required 8 choices, I initially thought of putting Law as the 8th. However, I moved it up to third in the end when I selected and had never felt like changing since. Consciously or not, God has always been here dictating my life, and so for the next phase I should have faith that He'll direct my steps.

I wanted to see before I believe. I wanted a guarantee that my audacious dream of being the Asian George Soros is being shoved away by a bigger, better purpose. I'll not know the enormity of my decision till years to come. But if there is one hint that I've made the right one, it's the manifestation of this phrase - believing is seeing...

On the following Monday morning, I accepted the offer through UM's website. In the evening, I woke up from my nap with likes and comments for my Facebook status that I'd posted to inform my FB friends about my decision. Through the comments, I realised that a stranger who had known me through newspaper, stumbled to my blog and later found out we have a mutual friend will be my coursemate in September. And when it dawned upon me that God had put a coursemate in my life months before I knew where I'll be heading, I laughed even louder.

Canny Ong, Altantuya, Teoh Beng Hock and Datuk Sosilawati, HERE I COME!

Who Do I Add?

2011-07-13T19:49:00.003+08:00

As of this post, my Facebook (FB) account stands at 295 friends, exceeding the reported average number of FB friends of a Malaysian. If all goes well and I am just midway through my life, I predict that number will reach 500. The thing is, 500 is the maximum, and I do not want to pass that figure. So to keep the number down, I admit that I have removed (more barbarically, deleted) some of my FB friends. And because I've done so and still been receiving friend requests from people I'm unwilling to add, this post becomes necessary.

Facebook is a social networking site, a virtual place for users to make acquaintances, get contacts and build a network that would perhaps help one to climb up the social strata. But I guess I haven't made use of FB's full potential, because privacy is still a private matter, and sharing my photos and posts with family and friends whom I actually know is already way too public. I can't pinpoint the reasons why I so securely guard my account, but neither can I understand why I should reveal it to many.

So it's a matter of following my own principles, The question is: How do I define "people I know"? Or to put it simply, who could make the cut in my friends' list?

Direct Friends - Classmates and members of a group (come September, coursemates). Till now, the furthest are juniors and seniors of a year, which means that coming from the same school may not be good enough.
Family and Relatives, and Their Friends - It's a God given ticket. Enough said.
Met/Known By Chance/Circumstance - The world is small, and if it's small enough for our fates to intertwine meaningfully, you're in.
Recognisable - If you're not within the above lists, please, don't expect me to add pet or cartoon or anime with a human name.

If those whom I've removed happen to come across this article, no hard feelings, fellow homo sapiens. It's just that I found no beneficial connection in our cyber friendship. In fact, even for those who are still in my list, I'll have no qualms to hit that delete button if I get annoyed by your pointless or ultra emotional status updates. Besides, deleting you means I would not miss proper updates from my close friends, strands of information that are important for me to keep in touch with them.

Recently, Google announced its new social networking platform, Google+, is being tested by a select group of invited people. As a nudge to its fiercest rival, obviously Facebook, Google claimed that its creation is going to "fix social networking," hinting the privacy flaws of FB which are its biggest weakness. Now, with latest statistics showing well over 750 million FB users, and the one billionth just the matter of time, Google may be fixing an irreparable damage. But that damage, a reason why I trim my list, is worse than you may think.

Let's say your friend installed an app called Game X, but you haven't used that app before. Do you know that Game X could still view your information even though you're not using that app? Even scarier is that your default settings, a place where I'm certain you haven't visited, put A LOT of your data up for viewing for your friends' apps. If you have 500 friends and each of them uses 5 different apps, you have 2500 companies/developers tracking you without your knowledge.

Who do I add? Safety and privacy. What about you?

*Go to your Facebook Home page and look at your left sidebar. Find and click "Apps" or "Apps requests," then under "Your apps," click "More." At the end of your list of installed apps, you'd see "To control how your friends see your activity, click here." For goodness sake, click it and do something!

Transformers: Dark of the Moon

2011-07-09T18:06:00.006+08:00

Megan Fox was better. Michael Bay has redeemed himself. And rope in James Cameron for the next Transformers, if there is..

Undoubtedly, the first Transformers is the best among the three. The tales of how Decepticons searched for All Spark, how the Autobots crashed down to rescue (EPIC meteor scene) and how we were introduced to the sight of cars transforming have indelibly become our first love. Even the score has been ingrained into our minds (my mind alone, maybe). Talking about scores, it's clear that Steve Jablonsky composed his best pieces for the first movie. Out of a great album, The All Spark is just one of my favourite tracks:

As for Dark of the Moon, well I've come across a harsh, 1-star review. While I agree that Rosie is there just to show her bottom and that the whole film is a no-brainer, Transformers is never meant to win the Oscars, let alone satisfy critics who prefer to think too much rather than to enjoy this action-packed thriller. If you view Dark of the Moon as it is - a feast of monstrous mayhem, mass destruction and obliterating war, Bay has certainly shown his best choreographed action sequences in this third and final instalment.

Better still, humans put up a good fight this time, particularly when the soldiers need to descend on Chicago and when Sam takes on Starscream by himself. My favourite part is on the highway when Decepticons are chasing Sentinel Prime. Another is how Optimus flies through Shockwave's worm-like machine and literally cuts it apart. Credits be given due, and I think Bay deserves a pat for containing such explosive scenes that are big, brave and boggling to show us the beauty of robotic beasts.

Oh, sights to behold. Fortunately, I beheld them twice, and wouldn't mind a thrice.

(Spoiler alert! Stop here if you haven't watched.)

Optimus will always be right for the sake of human race. But I can't help but pity the ex-commander of Autobots, Sentinel Prime. He does all to save Cybertron. He tries to prevent his own robotic race from extinction. And all he wants is to rebuild his destroyed home. At this extent, he's doing the right thing. But not when he wants to become God. Not when he's willing to put others as slaves. And not when he neglects the need of a few for the need of many. Does he sound like some of us?

Now that all leaders of Decepticons are dead, what's next for Transformers? Let me share an excellent idea, one that X-Men has successfully done to preserve its Hollywood popularity and viewers' interest: prequels. Instead of going forward, I want to know what exactly happened before they arrived to Earth. What led the Decepticons to rebel? How did the Autobots respond? I want to witness the war that took place on Cybertron. It's out of this world, both the setting and my suggestion, but there's where Transformers could continue to awe our imagination.

Rating: 3.5 / 5

Future Idol

2011-07-05T17:44:00.002+08:00

For the third semi-final of Astro Star Quest 2011, children as young as 11 were invited to PK (one-to-one battle) with the contestants. Although the kids weren't given scores, some of them would have beaten the contestants flat out, hands down. Most wowed the audience, and even the least skilled among the children was able to serenade the listeners. But there's one particular boy who, shortly summarised by a comment posted on YouTube, put Justin Bieber to shame. So now let him drop your jaw:

I wonder why the children seemed to sing with much more emotion than the some of the Top 8. Perhaps they just wanted to perform, not compete. Or simply because their minds weren't troubled by issues faced by adults. Whatever the reason may be, the kids prove that to sing well - or any task for that matter, we have to link, connect, engage with the task completely undisturbed, unhindered, unreserved in our mind, body and soul. As you figure out what I've just said, for the hundredth time, I'm clicking that replay button again.

Reboot

2011-07-02T00:14:00.001+08:00

Half a year has passed. Although it's not the time when we should reflect on what we have done and set forth resolutions for our near future, it's still a good point to ask ourselves how 2011 has been going. Personally, I couldn't have asked for more. For the past six months, I had reaped the fruits of my labour, experienced the best of my memories and had quality fellowship with family and friends. Above all, God has kept me in the pink of health throughout this irreplaceable period.

In two weeks time, I'll know where I will mostly spend my next three to four years and what I will be studying for my degree. Watching court-centred HK TVB drama recently has made think that maybe, just maybe, law is my destiny. I had put that as my third choice and if UPU (University Placement Unit) does grant me that field, I will give it a serious thought to embrace that challenge. After all, Albert Wong, a bright student who has a similar disease as mine, is in the Faculty of Law pursuing his Masters.

And in two months time, we have to bid our final farewell, Arts 1. There will be no more nonsense chatting, no more late night rounds of Monopoly Deal and of course, no more crashing into my house. I realise that friends whom I'll meet may or may not be as good, but at least I have been through a part of my life with you guys, and I'm truly thankful for each and every one of you. On a crazier note, I'm eagerly looking forward to our last gathering. *wink*

Throughout this six months of rest, I've thought about my life more and thus, tried to be more unique in my blog posts. To my handful of readers, thank you for reading my posts all this while. And as I make changes to Unseen Footsteps to engage to a wider audience, I hope you'll continue to be supportive and help me to retain my own true voice in writing as I refurnish my blog. Comment, criticise or scold; remind me the ways I should share my life, interestingly, meaningfully and passionately.

2011 may have been good, but the enemy of best is good. If there are things which you have set out to do in the first half of the year yet have not had the change to tick them off from your list, make it happen in the second half, like how Manchester United always do in football. Or if you're like me who has shifting changes coming up, then sit down, put your hands together and pray, for strength, purpose and most importantly, for His glorious will to be done.

Happy Rebooting!

1 to 50 About Anything

2011-06-28T20:06:00.002+08:00

The following is my take on on the dare of 1 to 50 About Anything posed by Old Lady. While a few numbers are obvious, the rest are hidden within the story. Now there are three things you can do:

Read the story as a short mystery tale and then carry on with Facebook-ing, I mean, your life.
Try to guess where those numbers of 1 to 50 lie. (Click "Comments" below to get the answer)
Be creative and solve the case. (There isn't a conclusion from me. So if you're interested in continuing my story, please do so!)

31st December. Sixteen minutes to midnight.

The Banker reached the minimum point and stood. Adam had a picture in his hand, and when the second card was dealt, he turned it so the side was parallel to the edge of the table. With each thumb covering a corner of that card, he slowly bent it up and took a peak. He saw the number of edges he needed to win the Banker, but before he could sigh in relief, Eve, sitting on his far left, stood up and left the Blackjack table.

With unblinking eyes, Adam stared at her perfect figure as she walked to the casino's exit. Winning became unimportant for him then, and as if a fish caught by a bait, Adam left the table without taking his chips and followed her pathway. He lowered his cap, kept his gaze on her and tailed her from a few metres behind.

Adam and Eve entered a lift. She pushed on the 14th floor button while he the 15th.

One floor above where she exited, he ran to the stairs after coming out of the lift and went back down to the 14th. While he was going down, Adam took his cap off, threw away his coat, tore off his moustache, wore a bow-tie, and gleaned his hair. Before he open the staircase exit, he searched for her through the transparent door and found her entering Room 666.

Adam strolled to the room, pressed the doorbell and raised the corner of his lips. When Eve opened the door, he smiled and said, "Good evening, Madam."

Michael only crossed a number correctly, but he would not have realised it anyway. Instead of concentrating on the numbers being called at the BINGO Lounge, he focused on his Bluetooth device attached to his ear. While he kept ticking on his card whether or not those numbers had been called, Michael listened intently to his phone.

A weak voice whispered into his ear, "Michael..."

He jerked from his seat and called out, "EVE?! Is that you?"

The same soft voice beckoned, "Help..."

Like a rocket he flew to the lift lobby and took the stairs. Michael wasn't looking at the sign indicating which floor he was already at. Rather, he was counting, and when he reached the 14th, he smacked away the staircase door and scrambled to her room. To his horror, the room wasn't 666.

But before he could turn back, Michael heard a loud, glass-shattering sound. Cold chills jumped through his spine. He breathed heavily, went one floor down and entered through the opened door. The window was smashed. Eve lied beside the bed with blood oozing out of her head. And when Michael went out to the balcony to look down, he saw Adam sprawled on the ground below, far from the partying crowd across a pool.

Revellers counted down and fireworks cracked at the stroke of midnight.

Super 8

2011-06-25T11:59:00.002+08:00

Towards the end of Super 8, when IT is going back to where IT belongs, a district water tank becomes magnetic, drawing all metallic junks including cars to build IT's spaceship or flying saucer or whatever it is. Witnessing nearby is Joe, a teenage boy who lost his mother due to an accident in the beginning of the movie.

As an apt ending of a film which thrives on chilling mystery, a tied locket which bears a photo of Joe and his mum flies out of Joe's pants. He holds on to the chain while the pendant is being attracted by the tank. I like this symbolic incident as the director, J.J. Abrams, could convey his message of letting go the past, partly portrayed also by the story of IT and Joe's father, through the pulled locket.

Joe can hold on to it. His strength can overpower the magnetic force. But he finally resigns and let it go, and the locket sticks to the tank which now sends IT back to where it came from.

Joe made a choice to leave the past behind, and with it, chose to start a new lease of life.

Rating: 4 / 5

Where Is My Maid?

2011-06-22T20:15:00.001+08:00

Maid is an issue that had greatly disturbed my emotional and sometimes mental well-being before. I'm having the 9th maid of my life, and before she reaches the end of her prolonged contract, she has already taken up a few records. She's the longest serving servant (4th year working for my family), the least problematic and, as claimed by my teacher, the most educated maid in Malaysia for assisting me during SPM and STPM. But... No, don't worry, she hasn't ran away and this post is not a warrant to find her.

But. As nice as my current seems to be, I have had those who were good, very good, on the wrong side of the fence.

The first runaway happened when I was just a kid living in Taman Cahaya. I fail to recall exactly when or what happened before and after her great escape. Nonetheless, planted deeply in my mind is a vivid picture. I was sitting in the living room, My maid was sheepishly dodging above the stairs looking out at the car porch. And the last detail of that picture was a closed kitchen door, an important hint of danger as we never closed the door unless somebody was cooking, which wasn't as that picture in my mind was quiet, serene and peaceful.

If I'm not mistaken, we later found out from her letter that she had eloped with a man. Oh, how Hollywood.

The second break was more dramatic, not only because I remember the events leading up to the incident and have moving pictures of the aftermath, but also because I could still feel the fear and sting in my tender heart when I was just in Form 2. It happened on a Friday, My friends were playing snooker at the teacher's table, pocketing computer mouse balls into an opening on the table meant for stationary. They were caught when my Maths teacher came in and I was asked to testify as to who were involved in the game.

I gave an honest answer. Honesty pays, and it paid heavily.

Before school ended, my classmates would clean our class and that was when my maid would enter to pack my stuff. However, she didn't enter and my friends couldn't find her. When the bell rang at 12:30pm, she was still nowhere to be found. One by one they left, and soon it was only me, my teacher and two friends who were in the class waiting. Even after announcing through the PA system to call for her, she was still missing. Heck, she would probably be miles away from the school, and so with the help of a friend, my mum carried me into the car and left.

Life without a maid is troublesome for me and my family. But that's another story. Now, let's talk about a maid whom I actually wish she had ran away.

After the 2nd runaway maid came her replacement which was so much worse. She stole money, drew graffiti on school's walls, flirted with neighbourhood guards and went to God-knows-where when I needed her at school. It was my friends who discovered that she stole their belongings, where the most valuable of all was a jade necklace, and the least of all was all money of a wallet. When my mum confronted her, she wailed and cried and shouted in defense of her botched innocence. Now that's Bollywood.

Once I was left alone in my class when my classmates had went down to prepare for their performance for Merdeka Celebration. So there I was - alone under a single turning fan in a dimly-lit classroom not knowing when or how I could move from my static position. Under the panic of expecting the worst, I was anxious, nervous and scared. I kept telling myself that my maid would soon appear, because that's the only thing I could do to prevent myself from crying, alone.

These incidents had been traumatic. They revealed my absolute dependence on another person and made me face my insecurity. They seared a constant fear in me that at any moment I would find myself incapable of doing anything or going anywhere. They pitted me against one of the worst feelings - helplessness - and challenged me to embrace it, not to run away. I had these moments so that God could build my emotional fortress. Missing maids was where I found courage and grit. What about you?

To All Dads

2011-06-18T21:03:00.006+08:00

Dear Uncles,

I was slapped by my father before. Yes, literally, SLAPPED right across my face. Now that incident was seared into my mind, but not because of the pain or the very young age when I was given that whack. Without any shame and grudge, I gladly admit that I was punished because I, you gotta believe it, uttered the F-word. Worse, I said it to my mum.

I know I know you're smirking at the screen now saying I deserved a second, harder wham.

I'm not trying to defend myself, but as I said, I was at an age when I just said words which I'd learned without even knowing the meaning of 'vulgar.' No doubt, it's wrong, and my father made sure that I learn polite speeches early on.

Till now, I must say that I have a very good control over profanity. Thank you, dad, and yes I should have turned the other cheek, mum.

So uncles, if you want your children not to shoot out those words as if they were as pleasant as sweets, then do them a favour by 'teaching' them when they're still kid. As the saying goes, spare the rod and spoil your child.

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

From,

X-Men: First Class

2011-06-17T11:45:00.003+08:00

There are three obvious, very obvious, similarities between me and Professor Charles Xavier. We are wheelchair-bound, love to play chess and... we are both ingeniously handsome. Okay now let's get to the point before you throw up.

Watching Charles playing chess with Erik, who eventually becomes Magneto and the mindreader's nemesis, bothers me. Isn't it true that Charles could enter Erik's mind to fathom his moves and thus devise his own against them? And doesn't Erik know that his friend could creep into his mind unnoticed and visualise whatever he's thinking?

It's true and the human magnet knows. But there's where the fun lies. It's a game better than chess. A game far more enticing and consequential than a board of contrasting colours.

It's a game called trust.

Towards the end of this enjoyable prequel, trust is the underlying theme as Charles trains his team of mutants. While the stumbling block which prevents full control for each mutant is different, it is trust in their genetic abilities, their odd appearances and their unique powers that could really unleash their ultimate potential. It is the belief that they can, before they could finally do.

With great power comes great you-know-what. And with you-know-what comes a great deal of trust in ourselves. We are all gifted with talents and destined to do something that only we could. But unless we have faith that we're worthwhile, special and mean something to a person, or maybe the world, then we could never realise our purpose as... us.

I have immense trust that I emulate the traits of Charles, even after what my friend said when I told him about our similarities: "EXACTLY... the opposite!"

Rating: 3.5 / 5

Let The Bullets Fly

2011-06-11T17:30:00.000+08:00

Unlike what the above trailer depicts, Let The Bullets Fly sparkles from its entertaining battle of wits between a chief bandit, Zhang, a local gentry, Huang, and an imposter, Tang. So although it's a wicked enjoyment just by listening them conversing, you need to understand a deep Mandarin dialect, which was compensated for me by good subtitles, in order to laugh and chuckle at how those three characters interact.

Beheading the tyrannical Huang is easy, and in fact it does happen, though not technically. But it's not what Zhang aims only, for after learning how the cunning Huang makes money from the town's people, and driven by angst to avenge a few deaths caused by him, Zhang devises ways to turn Huang's whole fortune and give it back to the town.

To do that, Zhang must incite fury among the people, rally them for a united cause and prove to them that overcoming an evil schemer is possible, like the way we should topple oppressive powers nowadays in our modern world. To anger, release benefits to them but snatch them back; to rally, hand power to them and fire-up their spirits; and to prove, make as though victory has been achieved. And to grasp what I've just said, let yourself fly to the cinema.

Rating: 4 / 5

Which Is My Ambition?

2011-06-08T19:55:00.001+08:00

If my memory is sound, it occurred when I was in Primary 2. We were required to fill in a form on which we needed to list three ambitions. And so having not fully realise the effects of my disease, I wrote doctor, lawyer and policeman or teacher (I've forgotten which I chose). Innocence, rather than doubt, must be the stronger voice within my young mind then, because now that I know the ever-decreasing extent of my physical strength, those three dream occupations are nothing but kid-ding me.

Child's unawareness is normal, but somehow I continued that naivety up till Form 3. One day my class teacher sat in front of me and asked who I wanted to be in the future. Appearing more matured, I asked which kind of my ambition she wanted to know: realistic or unrealistic. She laughed, thought awhile, before opting to know the realistic one first, to which I said psychologist. As for the unrealistic, I answered a specialist - a neurosurgeon - and yes, it's one step further than being just a mere doctor.

Fast forward to recently. When my childhood pediatrician came to my house for a visit, she asked which course I'd like to take in university. Like many of you already knew, I said Economics, and then she said something to which I have no clear explanations till now: "Eh, I thought you wanted to become a writer?" I'd told her after SPM that writing is my interest while Economics impressed me the most during Form 6. Put those together and ask for my choice, I honestly have no idea which.

By now you may think that I'm aimless; that I may not be steely enough to see it through; and that my ambition tends to change with each phase of my life. In a sense they're true, but allow me to dive further by delving into the why. Why writing? Why Economics?

For writing, it started in Form 4, when my teachers raised our standards by demanding concise yet complex pieces of essays in order to excel in GCE O-Level, not just the Malaysian 1119. By then I found a way, or rather, the only way, to express my thoughts and feelings, and do so entirely with my limited abilities. Finishing an article, like ending each post of this blog, also incites a sense of achievement.

For Economics, well it had a sad start. I shunned this subject and never saw myself studying this field, let alone liking it. But then I realised it revolves around concepts and calculations, where the latter complements my unashamed cling to Maths while the former requires analysis with minimal mobility. And so again it's a channel from where achievement doesn't need physical prowess.

As the reasons have shown, I need to make the most out of what is offered. I'm always changed by circumstances due to my condition, and because I must be ready to adapt, interest naturally ignites in things that I accept and keep on doing. Truthfully, I don't even know what course will I be given when university placement results are released in July. Hence having another ambition by the end of this year is possible. I may not like it in the beginning, but since I have to be open, I'll gradually accept, improve and aim for the best.

It's quite a journey, refreshing my dreams and hopes with each passing experience. And that has fueled a passion rooted deep inside of me - the passion to write. To write well, I must be like a sponge - constantly absorbing - to changes and particularly for me, to the possibility of never accomplishing a single ambition. Only then can I explore. Only then can I write stories which are uniquely mine. So if I must put one ambition that encapsulates all, it is simply to surmount hardships and soar ever so higher, and to share my life with the world. What about you?

*When we were making a video for my Form 5 graduation, the Form 3 class teacher was interviewed. She became emotional recalling my realistic and unrealistic ambitions. I never knew my words had so much impact, but if others could pick a piece of my shattered dreams to build up theirs, then this is one heck of a life.

Kung Fu Panda 2

2011-06-03T11:01:00.002+08:00

Haunted by his childhood memories and desperate to find out who is his father, Po sets out to discover his background as he's sent on a mission to overthrow Lord Shen. When Po realises why was he left by his parents, he crumbles under a heart-breaking truth.

Then a soothsayer resurrects his fighting spirit by saying words that we, yes we, need to listen attentively:

"Your story might not have a happy beginning. But that doesn't make who you are. It's the rest of the story. It's who you choose to be. Who are you, Po?"

Rating: 4.5 / 5

*I was very, very hopeful that DreamWorks could finally topple Pixar, considering that Kung Fu Panda 2, the favourite of all, will be up against a lesser known animation - Cars 2 (out in June 24). And boy it did turn out to be freakin' awesome! But I still feel that it lacks something, a void that can only be filled with Pixar's magic. My sister said that I'm biased, and honestly I may very well be so. But we'll wait and see if Cars 2 does have that inexplicable rev.

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Strangers Tides

2011-05-27T11:59:00.000+08:00

This time, it's about the search for the Fountain of Youth, from which its water would lengthen one's lifespan by taking the years another, sacrificing the giver in the process. Interestingly, and the only interesting point of this installment, the ritual requires mermaid's tears.

Unlike what we assume mermaids to be like, these creatures are ferocious beasts who drown men into the depths of the sea and devour their flesh right till the bones during mating season. As such, getting tears from these violent beings is knowingly difficult.

On his quest to seek the enchanted fountain, Captain Blackbeard has taken captive of a priest who shows kindness to a captured mermaid. Eventually sparks ignited between the two, and hence Captain Blackbeard kills the priest in hope that the mermaid would cry in despair.

But she bottles up her rage and cry she doesn't. Angered, Blackbeard ties her to a tree to be scorched to death by the dawning Sun.

Nonetheless, killing him is only a ploy by the deceptive captain. As soon as the priest finds out that he's alive, he races towards the mermaid who upon seeing her love becomes overwhelmed and finally shed a drop of tear. Captain gets his treasured potion, leaving the priest claiming for his innocence as he's pulled away from the mermaid to proceed searching for the fountain.

That's food for thought. For cold-hearted people who encounter death and violence daily, getting them to cry by showcasing cruelty clearly doesn't work. Shine them with rays of hope; for the mermaid shows that it's not pain, but peace, that could break her threshold. Not tears of sorrow, but tears of joy.

When the priest has broken free from the pirates, he runs to where the mermaid has been tied. He says, "I'm sorry," and pleads for her forgiveness.

"Ask," she replies.

"Forgive me."

And then they kissed.

Rating: 3 / 5

What Is My Name?

2011-05-25T20:38:00.002+08:00

Drinkwater. That is the funniest name I've come across in my whole life. At my first glance at the name behind a jersey of a footballer, I went LOL. What, his ancestors lived in a desert? Or were they caught on an island with torrential rainstorms that they had to drink it to avoid sinking? Just imagine his mum saying, "Drinkwater, drink water!" "Alright, alright! I will, I will!" he would have probably replied.

My name is Low Hong Ping. And I'm quite sure most of you have just read my name wrongly. The surname of Low is pronounced phonetically as L-A-U, not the lowly kind of low. Mispronunciation of my last name is prevalent, especially during official ceremonies where names are all the more important. Not that I mind, but the iniquity of letters to represent Chinese characters makes it better for you to know my, and more importantly your, Chinese name which, after all, has a whole new meaning in it.

刘宏彬 is my Chinese name. 刘 is my surname, 宏 means great and 彬 means demeanour. So putting them together literally means that my name reflects me to have a "decent politeness." Note that I wrote reflects, because plainly I don't speak like the Queen and act like princes. In fact, some of my friends would argue that I'm anywhere near decent. However, self-anointed prophets claimed that my name wasn't auspicious enough and so that spurred my mum to find an English name for me.

Hence James, the name by which I'm known to most, was chosen. It was derived from James Joyce, a famous author who's still revered nowadays, with my sister taking the feminine name. My mum opted to pick an author's name because there's a mole on the centre of my right arm, an indication, she had learnt, that a person could write well. If you're still glued to this article, my mum made one of her wisest decisions.

So that's the history of my name. While there's no reason for you to know my story, I think it's necessary for you to know yours. What does it mean? Why was it chosen? And if you're name is as weird as Drinkwater, you really need to find out why.

We may not turn out to be who our names project us to be, but that's not my point. More crucially, names are attributed to certain traits and characters. When certain names are spoken, they give an idea of who they are and what they do. You don't need to meet Steve Jobs to start creating innovatively. Neither do you need to kiss Mother Teresa to emulate her actions. Just the sound of their names is enough to conjure up their influence. And that's because we know the character the names are associated with.

When your name is spoken, what do people think of you? Beyond my identity, I'd like my name to be one whom people would think of when they're desperately giving up; I'd like my name to be an assurance that there are someone whom they could talk to in every possible need; and I'd like my name to inspire people when they're short of motivation to live life the way it should. Truthfully, I'm far from those traits. But that's what I want my name to be, and I work to realise them. What about you?

*If my article has made no sense to you, then read Mary Schneider's. I lack in EVERY aspect compared to hers, but hey, I'm learning.

Ending Of A Story

2011-05-24T20:35:00.000+08:00

Taking cue from my friend's prompt to end a story, I've given my take here. I was interested to do so because I'd done this kind of collaborative writing, and so would therefore like to test myself again.

Unchartered Voyage, by the way, is a sub-site, a sister site, a brother site, or whatever you call, to Unseen Footsteps, publishing my original stories.

Click here to read the collaborative writing I mentioned above. It is one of my favourite pieces, born from the synergistic creativity of three daring writers. No plots were discussed. Just continuing from what one had written. And results were to me quite impressive.

Why Do I Work?

2011-05-18T19:50:00.001+08:00

During this break waiting for university to commence in September, I've been, so called, working. For those who haven't known, I'm currently a content writer for a company reviewing products sent by my manager. Send, as in sending an Amazon link regarding a specific product that I would need to research and write a review or an article about it. And it's all done through Internet without me having seen, touched or tested the product physically.

Accuracy of my reviews aside. The main question that I sometimes ask myself is why do I work? Why would I trouble myself doing something that earns peanuts in return? It's not like anyone, including me, will starve to death if I decide to be unemployed. I'm no breadwinner to any bread-eater and the economy doesn't need me contributing peanuts. "Just to fill my time" is my reason when I say I'm working. But unspoken purposes lies beneath what I've been publicly reasoning.

First is to keep myself disciplined. After I've done a task which would take a couple of days, new tasks will be assigned almost immediately, meaning I'm constantly tied to deadlines during the company's busy periods. Without anything formally serious, laziness may slowly take a toll on me as I become stagnant for eight months. With work, and the subsequent targets to achieve, I'm able to keep my mind thinking, focused and active.

Next is to brush-up my writing. It's commonly known that if we want to master a skill, practise; relentless, persistent practise is the way to go. In the case of writing, churning out words for different genres is as important as consistent writing. And reviewing products is one unique kind. I need to present a product as it is - the pros and cons, the facts and figures - and write them interestingly that would grab readers' attention. If it's good, I must incite the urgency in my readers to run out of the house screaming for the product.

Most importantly, I work to learn. I'm fortunate to have a manager who gives feedback about my articles. In short, she reviews my reviews. She would kindly encourage me on parts that I write well, yet is critically bold to openly demand me to improve on my weak areas. It's not a tiresome routine where I do my work, earn my money and ask for bonus. Instead, I have a chance to expand my soft skills, and it's only made possible by her willingness to guide. Ain't that reason good enough for me to keep writing for the same company?

The cover story of last week's R.AGE is about youths having a hard time finding work nowadays. While every layman know the reasons behind the alarming unemployment rate among youngsters, experts point out that companies are now putting "right attitude" as a criteria when searching for workers. Apparently, skills and qualifications have become secondary to character and aptitude to change. So got a degree from Oxford or Cambridge or Harvard? Put that aside and show me what the inner you is made of first.

The "right attitude" that companies are looking for clearly shows that if you aren't ready to change your mindset and start from bottom or underground or somewhere too low for your ego, you'll never have the chance to stand firmly on solid ground, let alone climb up the social strata. I work to keep my mind on track, strengthen my skills and learn whatever I can to prepare myself for the next big thing. That's why I work. What about you?

PS: The picture of that R.AGE article shows a desperate teen who are willing to work for RM2,500.00. My friend works for that figure, but has 12-hour shifts that sometimes fall on wee hours of mornings. Is he entirely happy with uncivillised duty hours? Of course he isn't. But attitude keeps him going.

It's A Calling

2011-05-16T17:10:00.002+08:00

I remember there was a time when my teacher said some harsh words (funny, if you have an insensitive sense of humour) to my classmate during lesson. My friend asked about a concept that had been explained repeatedly prior to that class. It was a human mistake, an unintended mental lapse, against the disappointment of a teacher having tried to fix that weakness time and time again. Worse, another one complained, "Ask also scold, don't ask also scold."

Neither was really at fault. But blunt words are the sharpest weapons. And my teacher knew it.

So later in the evening, the teacher asked me through MSN whether she'd been too hard on my friend. She was hurt by the complaint, even more dismayed that we hadn't grasped the concept fully after weeks of being drilled. And she was determined to do everything she could to let us understand her lessons better. After that day, she intentionally made unnoticeable (except to me) subtle changes in the way she responded to questions, all for the sake of her students, for the sake of us.

During last year's Teacher's Day celebration at school, St. John's principal, Mr. Leong, said that teaching is not just a profession. It goes beyond the responsibility of just educating children. He opined that teaching is a calling, and teachers have answered that call from God to mould characters and nurture the hearts and minds of young people. They dedicate their lives to shape others. And once they have received that torch from God, there's no turning back.

I'd been so blessed to have teachers who treat their job as a calling guiding me through 14 years, including those I spent in special classes, of my school life. The aforementioned teacher is an apt representation. Many of them didn't just share their knowledge. They took that extra mile to make sure we had learnt and comprehended a lesson as much as we could, rather than leaving us alone to study ourselves. They shared a bit of their hearts and souls with us, and we could feel it, teachers. Deep down we really could.

I don't think my friend to whom those harsh words were said hold any grudge towards my teacher. Neither does my teacher have any bitter feeling anymore to that complaint. Whatever had been said or done or felt, there's nothing more powerful than the care and love we have for each other. It's one of life's beautiful blessings. It's a gift of God to humanity. And it's a calling few would answer. So today let us appreciate the potters of the world. Thank you, teachers.

HAPPY TEACHER'S DAY

Movies I've Watched

2011-05-14T10:54:00.000+08:00

To persuade Guan Yu to join forces with him, Cao Cao reasoned that Liu Bei was weak, and that staying with his sworn brother would waste Guan Yu's capabilities. Being a loyalist as he is now renowned for, the legendary bladesman responds by saying that if he was so easily cajoled by promises of wealth, fame and power, wouldn't he be a dangerous asset in Cao Cao's regime? Wouldn't he change his service again if another came with more alluring promises?

Rating: 3 / 5

"You have to carry on."

"But why?"

"Because you're right."

Rating: 3 / 5

Amidst all running and jumping, Brian knows that he'll become a parent soon with Mia. He asks his compatriot, Toretto, Mia's brother, whether he still remembers about his dad. Toretto says that his father used to teach Mia in a kitchen and would see her off to sleep. His dad would then stay up to learn another chapter just so that he could teach her the next day. Brian, however, doesn't have a hint about his dad, not even how he looks.

Not wanting to give his child the same experience, Brian stresses that they need to pull out. And Toretto agrees to disappear after doing one last job (which I, after watching Fast Five, hope it's a lie). Quoting from Toretto, "Money come and go. We all know that. What's important is the people here today. This family." Even the thrill of racing and the growls of revving engines couldn't stop them from knowing what matters most. What about you? Are you chasing things that come and go?

Rating: 4 / 5

To All Mums

2011-05-08T11:00:00.001+08:00

Dear Aunties,

This morning I was constipated. Yes, it's important. Because as I was pushing the "stones," it dawned upon me that the pain, the scream and the agony of child delivery are hundred or even thousand times more excruciating than my business today.

My friend said before that giving birth is like passing motion. NO, IT'S NOT.

So sincerely I would like to convey my utmost gratitude to all mums out there. Giving breath to humans is just a start. You'd still have to toil, to suffer and to bear the brunt of rebellious children for many, many years to come.

Yet after all the cries and midnight tears, every mum will say that it's worth it in the end. That witnessing your child grow is worth every ounce of strength, every drop of sweat and every fibre of your heart.

Thank you, mums. May God bless you who resemble His slightest image and shower a portion of His love. Have a HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY.

From,

PS: Before I sat on the toilet bowl this morning, I'd never thanked God more that I'm not a woman.

Majlis Anugerah Kecemerlangan Akademik 2011

2011-05-07T17:41:00.001+08:00

On May 2010, after the same event had ended last year, Ms Low and I had the following conversation:

"Where's your mum?"

"She doesn't come to these kind of functions."

"Ask her to come next year."

"If I get, teacher."

"I expect you to get!"

Funny how some things will never truly end till they reach their starting points, as if completing a cycle or finishing a lap. St. John was where it all started. So it's only appropriate that the end takes place there.

Out off 22 receivees of STPM Excellence Award, 9 were from my class. That's almost half of all the recipients. To quote from my friend, "We nearly conquered." Exactly, Arts 1. We rose to the challenge, and I'm glad to be part of one of the best Arts classes in St. John's history.

To Mrs Cheng, Ms Low, Ms Chia, Pn Azila, Pn Tien and Pn Najibah, no amount of thanks could fit the credit all of you deserve. It was planned by Him that we should learn from you, and it was His purpose that you came into our lives to make what had happened possible for us. I've realised, however hard it's been, to rely on God to steer my path, because there is where I'll be glorious for Him.

So I did get prizes again this year. And this time my mum was there.

In Christ alone

I place my trust

And find my glory in the power of the cross

In every victory

Let it be said of me

My source of strength

My source of hope

Is Christ alone

Books I've Read

2011-05-06T12:22:00.002+08:00

From a pessimistic view, Malcolm Gladwell can be quite discouraging at times. He writes that all of us think rapidly behind a closed door of subconsciousness, whether we like and realise it or not. The good part is that we can make wise decisions in a blink, sometimes even better than deliberate actions. The other end, however, is that stereotypes have control over that innate ability. So manipulative that in milliseconds, we always associate certain races to certain feats, never mind how impartial we think we are. Want to overcome the norm and train your snap judgements? Read it.

Rating: 4 / 5

The last chapter of The Art of War is entitled Secret Agents. According to Sun Tzu, there are five types of agents to execute espionage, and the one which interests me most is expendable agents. This kind, as the name suggests, is he who readily sacrifices his life or is cheated by his superior to convey false information to the enemy. While decapitation is the end for botched agents in ancient times, their fates aren't much better in modern worlds. Fired, jailed or gunned down, expendable persons are still priceless, albeit cruel, assets.

"Expendable agents are those of our own spies who are deliberately given fabricated information."

- The Art of War by Sun Tzu

Rating: 3 / 5

I've read many times that books can change life, and each time this phrase comes to me, I wonder how could books be so influential. Perhaps I've not read enough, but as I was gripped by One Child, I began to realise that stories have indeed crept into my heart and done something. It's not a single novel that changes. It's a cumulative read of pathetic, tear-jerking tales that has broken the threshold of my emotional fortress, making me a more fragile person now.

"...the knife had punctured the vagina wall into the rectum..."

The damage done when Sheila, a six year-old girl, was sexually abused by her uncle.

Sorry for putting such nauseous detail. Yet it's a true story, written by a teacher called Torey Hayden as she chronicled her journey teaching an extremely disturbed child. The more tragic the story, the more I like to dwell myself in all that misery. Because that's where I find equally powerful love shown to overwhelm the horrifying life trials. And love always wins. Call it a morbid fascination. But not knowing doesn't mean it's non-existent. Only when we realise how lucky we are can we appreciate life in all its beauty.

Rating: 4 / 5

Animations I've Watched

2011-05-03T20:15:00.001+08:00

Mixing real-life characters with animations, a mix made popular by two Garfield films, hasn't been a wise Hollywood step. With Hop, it's proven again that though it can be entertaining at times, especially when those adorable bunnies carve out their cute, teeth-exposing smile, filmmakers haven't found the perfect blend for this genre - or rather, not enough effort is put in achieving that. A more believable story that connects men and animations engagingly is what these kind of movies need now.

Rating: 2 / 5

A look at the movie poster had made me sure that I wouldn't be watching this weird chameleon. The fact that it's voiced by Johnny Depp, a reason good enough for many to watch, only make this greenish, slightly scary-looking creature weirder. But even as I found myself in the theatre absorbing the tale, these animal characters just couldn't evoke my care for what would transpire in the end for them. On average, Rango strikes in actions and graphics. But when it comes plot, it's predictable and suits the phrase Who cares?

Rating: 3 / 5

Problem No. 1: The soundtrack doesn't actually mirror the extravagant Brazillian music, which is obviously required since it's set in Rio de Janeiro. Problem No. 2: Though putting humans and monkeys twist the plot interestingly, they close creative avenues which would have been used if the creators had only birds to manipulate. Problem No. 3: Call me biased, but I must lament that this idea of birds animation should have been in the hands of Pixar.

Having said that, those problems crept in only when I was intentionally finding faults, when I thought about it long and hard. Honestly when I was in the cinema, once I'd been carried away by its captivating story, Rio became an enjoyment, freely releasing me into the realms of exciting music and splendid colours. Above all, it teaches us that however daunting and impossible flying is to Blu's mind, he is born to fly, and by heart, he will eventually relish his ability. Very much like us.

"It's not what you think up here. It's what you feel in here."
Raphael on how to fly.

Rating: 4 / 5

A Cynical and Rational Perspective of Love

2011-04-30T20:55:00.001+08:00

Dear You,

I don't know whether I have met or will ever meet you. I'm not even sure you exist at all. But if God really did split us into half, and that I would only be complete if I'd united with you, then perhaps this sorry is the hardest and cruelest of all I'll ever need to say.

Love alone doesn't sustain life. My love for you doesn't mean I could care for you; doesn't mean I could always be there for you; and doesn't really mean anything at all. Even if you had the greatest love just for me, it wouldn't be enough against my life shrouded with bitter shame and painful sickness.

I could only hope that I am the one who whispers into your ears; whose shoulders you lie on when you cry; and who holds you tight in the middle of the night. But I could only wish. And imagining how I would love is not enough. Living, or surviving for that matter, needs logical behaviours.

If God had created me as a whole person, and that I do need not to find the one, then things are alright. But if you exist, then I'm sorry. I'm the one but I won't be. I'm yours but so you'll be to somebody else. And you're mine but I'll never have you. I'll have to let you go. Hurt you away if I have to.

This is a break-up letter for you out there, if you exist at all. The world is not a dream. Life isn't a fairytale. And you are human, created to seek the one who could love you not merely in words but through actions as well, for whom I'm a complete opposite.

It's not sorry that I love. I'm sorry you have to love somebody else, the one who is never meant for you...

From,
Me

My 21st Birthday: Acknowledgement and Appreciation

2011-04-26T11:01:00.004+08:00

The start of the great plot

Boy I knew what was your intention, Sze Sern. But never in my wildest, most perasan dream did I think of what eventually happened.

My 21st birthday was a memorable period, giving me another joyous experience I'll cherish forever. But it wasn't because of a pompous ceremony. Nor was it because of an all-out, wild party. It was them - my family and friends - who made it so immeasurably special. There's nothing I could do except to convey my deepest, heartiest and sincerest thanks to each and everyone one of you:

All plans went on (almost) perfectly, and the sole reason for that was your presence, my sis. God sent you back to Malaysia just in time to meet a few of my friends and lead the planning and organisation. Without your supervision, my friends alone would have gone haywire and wouldn't have dared to carry out such surprises, over and over again. I'll never forget how I felt - the anticipation and shock - at moments when all those surprises happened. For that, thank you so much, Jie. I ♥ you!

Time was essential in this event, and no one could have timed it more precisely than my mum and dad. When my mum and sis had gone to The Gardens, my father hesitantly changed his clothes, unlike his laid-back nature, to drag time for them to prepare at the RedBox. My mum, on the other hand, had to examine needless kitchen utensils while we were at Isetan to ensure my friends had went into the cinema before I did. For that, mum and dad, thank you so much. I ♥ you!

Now to the staff of RedBox. Not only did they let us book a VIP room without paying deposit but also allow us to sing beyond the given time frame of four hours. Next is the bakery. Instead of Secret Recipe, this year we decided to look for a home-bakery. Though the birthday cake wasn't entirely to my liking, those cute cupcakes which made up the number 21 were really nice and sweet, and thanks again to my sis for designing them. To the staff of RedBox and My Patisserie, thank you so much.

Apart from warm wishes by family and friends near and far, I was overjoyed to receive so many gifts this year. All of you have given to me. If not in the form of a physical present, then it's your friendship and love which are priceless. Infinite thanks to:-

My sister, for your greeting card, and of course that badge. Having a sister like you has taught me that life is fulfilling, love is prevailing and family is everything.

Boon Chuan, for your greeting card, novel and poster, and of course your audio clip. I'm sure you'll be able to draw more alike after seeing me more often. Meanwhile, convert to Red Devil!

Yung Sen, for your greeting card. Though it's just a coincidence, getting the card from Gentlemen Gallery proves what kind of a person I should be now. But haven't I been one all this while?

Ann, for your shirt. That eagle symbolises our hardships and perseverance throughout Form 6.

Hui Jun, for your stamp. It'll be so useful for me, especially when I can't write anymore.

Wai Kit, for your puzzle. I'm really grateful and humbled to receive this gift from you.

Rong Fuh, for your photo album. Well I need one to put in pictures of your handsome face.

Kevin, for your novel. Improvising from a quote by Julius Caesar, "We came; we saw; we became friends."

Sze Sern, for your novel. You're smart enough to pick a story from an author whose another book I like.

Hadi, Adeline and Danson, for your jacket. It's really nice of you to think of thick clothes; for I know what I say sometimes send chills down your spine.

Munirah, for your Padini shirt. The upper design not only suits my taste but also my weird body shape. Even my mum likes it!

Alison, for your message in a bottle. I appreciate your heartfelt words, and it shows that you do understand me; that you know I like gifts straight from the ♥.

Another gift that is straight from my friends' hearts is the scrapbook. Alison, Adeline, Munirah, Sze Sern, Hadi and Chee Fui sat in a same restaurant from 12pm to 7pm completing the book. For seven hours, they cut, pasted, drew, coloured and even knitted, and patiently repeat those steps to give birth to one of my most treasured items. Touching those pages, I could feel your heartbeat and love. Thank you so much, guys. I know you all could produce this scrapbook only because you love me. For that, I want you to know that I ♥ you too...

Posted when they were having a hard time coming out with ideas for the scrapbook. At that time, I didn't know what they truly meant.

But it's obviously impossible to finish the book from scratch to completion within seven hours, even with the help of a few. Before they had materials, somebody had to diligently search, select, edit and print pictures, texts and fancy decors to be compiled. And that person was Alison. It must have taken sleepless nights and jolts of headaches. For your time, patience and love, lots of ♥, Mei Mei, thank you so much.

There are countable people who are willing to do so much for a disabled person, and out of a few, God has put most of them into my life. I'm abundantly blessed to have all of you - my loving family and caring friends - to be around me as I go through another year. I could never, never repay your love and what you have done to me. The least I could is to say thank you again, and to dedicate this prayer to all:

Heavenly Father,

I'm eternally grateful for the people you have put into my life. But now I pray that You wouldn't just bless them. More importantly, I pray You would use them to bless more and more people wherever they go.

My family have shown me what it means by unconditional love. My friends have made giving without receiving known to me. And together, they have made my life worthwhile, priceless and meaningful.

So now I pray they will touch many peoples' lives, the way they have touched mine. Strengthen their hearts; brighten their joy; and deepen their love, so that everyone who walks into their lives could get a glimpse of heaven, a taste of Your love. Whoever they meet, let them make a difference. Let them be reflectors of Your light.

This I pray in Your Precious Name, Amen.

My 21st Birthday (Part 3): What A Coincidence

2011-04-20T21:00:00.003+08:00

What went on behind my back on the eve of 12 April, 2011.

On the eve of my birthday, my mum suggested to buy my friends dinner at tomorrow night, considering they'd put in so much effort to make the scrapbook. Honestly I just wanted to have a simple dinner with my family on my birthday night. Besides still being speechless with what had happened, I thought maybe asking them to come again would be troublesome. But when I asked Sze Sern, he jumped at the chance and instantly decided to come to my house in the morning, saying that he's not free at night.

Together with Alison, Adeline, Patrick, Ann, Li Ting and Suang Yuan, they turned my house into a bazaar, noisily playing Cluedo and having a weird competition, which I sanely didn't take part, of how many grapes could be put in mouth. For the record, Sze Sern had 23 grapes stuck in his jaw. I yelled at them to turn away from me for fear of those grapes shooting out like bullets from a machine gun. Even with a mouthful of fatal bullets, he still managed to say Happy Birthday, James!

Patrick left at around 1 to work, Ann, Li Ting and Suang Yuan at 2 and the rest - Sze Sern, Kevin, Alison and Adeline - went back at 3. Before he left, Sze Sern told me to on MSN at night but since I didn't know what time I would reach home from dinner with my family, I said I would if I was free. After all was gone and when I was looking forward to a quiet nap, my mum persuaded me to watch a movie with her and my maid before my dad and sis would join us for dinner.

Out we went and before I knew it, we were at 3rd floor, Isetan, KLCC. As a habit, my family would buy breads from Sun Moulin to enjoy them in the cinema. The problem was that though there were only three of us, she bought 10, enough to feed uninvited guests. Then we walked around aimlessly before going into the cinema at the very last minute of 5:15pm. Instead of entering Theater 5 from a closer door, we went in from another entrance which was nearer to my seat.

As I was wheeled in, I saw two figures cuddling each other under a cloth a few seats away on the same row. Now I'm all for public affection, more so if it's done in the dark. But more than that, my instinct told me that I knew these two persons who must be enjoying each other under the sheet. I took another glance, and there I saw, crawling under the seats, a face of a very familiar guy who said he needed to work. Then I stopped looking anywhere and just fixed my gaze towards the grey screen ahead.

After fidgeting for a few moments, my mum and maid, who were sitting next to me, stood up and exchanged seats with Alison, Adeline, Sze Sern, Patrick and Leo. They laughed and all I could say was "What the..." "Hey such a coincidence!" said Patrick, and when I asked about his work, he replied, "Later, seriously after this show I have to go to work." "Night guard ah?!" I shouted.

After the end of Hop, they said bye and went down the stairs while I went out through the entrance. Since there was a long queue waiting at Chilis, me, my mum and maid went to washroom, slowly, very slowly, as my dad and sis lined-up at the restaurant. But the queue was still long after that and so the three of us went to Isetan to again wander aimlessly. Actually our aim was to get a cake but we were caught up by crystal miniatures and so we let those decors waste the time that must be wasted.

After 15 minutes, my sis called and said that the table was ready. It was ready, in fact everyone was ready. When I arrived, Alison, Adeline, Sze Sern, Patrick, Hadi and Leo were already reading the menu. Patrick said, "Sze Sern's car broke down! So we came here to have dinner and then eh, saw your family! Then we joined lah, Such a coincidence, right?" Under the dim ambiance, my wish of just wanting a simple dinner with my family and friends was granted, but only after so much had unbelievably happened.

After dinner, my dad went back in Kenari while me, my mum, sis and maid walked long distances at the parking bay as Isetan, where my mum had parked our Serena, had closed. Back at home, Kenari was in the porch and so my dad had already arrived. He carried me in without smiling mischievously. As I sat near the stairs, I looked at the kitchen. It was bright. Nobody was hiding. No more surprises. It's the end. The very end.

My 21st Birthday (Part 2): Ambush From The Kitchen

2011-04-19T21:00:00.001+08:00

The drama started right after my mum, dad, maid and I came out of the lift at the 3rd floor. Instead of going straight to the parking, we headed to a level below to buy something. Once out of the lift, I saw my sister sitting on a bench beside a directory, from where she hid once she spotted us. I thought she was waiting for her friends and didn't want to worry my mum. My heart was simply too contented to suspect otherwise.

After getting what we wanted, it was time to go home and call it day. During the journey back, my dad decided to send me home first before going out to buy dinner. As usual, my mum asked whether I was tired and I replied no. But what's unusual was that she asked whether I would like to play board games. Without my sis, I asked, "With who?" "With me, dad and kakak lar!" I laughed, thinking that my dad playing board games would be a nice birthday memory.

My mum tends to speak when she should be keeping quiet and her nature got the better of her when she stated, "The night is still young, right?" I agreed, as the evening was really nowhere near my sleeping time yet. As she continually spoke and I naturally responded, deep inside of me began to scarily wonder. And my fear was justified when I noticed a very familiar car parked outside of my house. At that instant, it was more OMG than LOL.

We arrived to a dark home. Alright because we hadn't switched on any light before we left that afternoon. When my dad was carrying me, his lips curved into a mischievous smile. He went into the kitchen to wash his hands but let out a chuckle. Then my mum on the air-cond, something we do only if there's guests. Then again she proclaimed the night was still young. All signs were clear. Something's going on. Yet my mind refused to accept what I was subconsciously anticipating.

They were crazy. But I didn't know they were this crazy, along with my sis who had been infected by their contagious insanity:

As you could see from the video, I was left speechless, surprised, stunned, shocked and scared. It's either no words could describe how I felt or my mind was bewildered by what they'd done - or rather what they were willing to do just for me. After we settled down, each of them took pictures with me together with their presents. Even the gifts were overwhelming as they'd bought their own present rather than sharing a single gift which was what we had been doing for birthday boys or girls.

Towards the end of a very young night, Hadi said, "James, there's something else missing from this birthday celebration." No, I thought, nothing else was missing. The day had been so special to me that my mind was completely blank to think of anything missing from that perfect evening. But once it was presented, I realised that it's not the presents, the singing or the laughs that could preciously mark this occasion as a moment I'll cherish for the rest of my life:

Flipping through the pages, they had hoped that I would shed a few drops of tears. Eventually I did - but next morning, not in front of them - while I was touching those pages and reading their heartfelt messages. Tears streamed remembering the moments we'd spent together in Form 6. But above all I cried because I finally knew that my life had gone on like it did just so that I could meet them - friends who do so much but want nothing in return. That scrapbook compiles their heartbeats. And nothing I could do to repay what you'd done, my friends.

It was around 11:30pm and the night wasn't young anymore (not to me, at least). My dad fetched a group while the rest followed Danson. The last 10 hours had been a roller coaster ride and it took just minutes before I fell asleep. Yet after all that had happened, still it wasn't my exact birthday...

My 21st Birthday (Part 1): Singing Out Our Hearts and Tears

2011-04-18T21:00:00.001+08:00

For the 2nd BIGGEST event of my life, my sister openly suggested to have a karaoke session. Unlike the previous 20 years, I'd never planned my own celebration. This year, however, not only did I post an Event page on Facebook by myself, but I also chose my own birthday cake. I thought I'd known it all, and that - thinking I was controlling the party - was actually a trap, luring me into a string of overwhelming surprises...

It was decided that we would sing on Sunday, 10 April, from 2pm to 6pm, at RedBox, The Gardens. In that afternoon, my mum and sis drove to The Gardens first in another car, saying that my sis, Joyce, needed to meet her friends after 6pm and so would come home later than me. After around 10 minutes, my dad, maid and I started our journey.

At the parking bay of The Gardens, all lots reserved for disabled people in front of a lift lobby were taken and thus, my dad dropped me there before finding a space while I waited for him inside. That took another 10 minutes. Once we stepped out of the lift at the 4th floor, a RedBox's receptionist knowingly asked my dad "Joyce?" and instructed us to go to room 17. Just before we reached that room, my dad talked through his phone, "We're here."

Lights were out but I could see shadows - more than two, more than my mum and Joyce. Confetti was thrown and there I was, a late host, being sang the birthday song by my friends who weren't supposed to be there yet. I admit that though I'd known about the plan for my birthday last year in school, this time I was caught genuinely and pleasantly surprised, without noticing anything fishy till that phone call by my dad.

Then it was time for those who can or cannot to sing; and those who has talent to finally realise their celebrity dreams outside their house toilets. I realised that my lungs were still good enough to belt out one or two songs, but I, together with all present, also realised an even more important point: all Siti's can sing. When Bukan Cinta Biasa by Siti Nurhaliza was played, we thought it was the original singer's voice. But it was Siti Munirah, who had actually voiced her skills when she used to shriek beside my ear at school.

Everything that went on didn't come under my plans, except when the cake was presented (accompanied by another birthday song). Since Sze Sern had an emergency and needed to leave earlier, I texted my sis to get the cake not only because he was leaving but also because he was, I'm sure, one of the co-planners. Besides, he's known as The Driver; for he fetches my friends who live all over the place to and fro when there's an outing. Hence, they don't know that I was the one who ordered the cake - or do they?

Back to the start. As I was wheeled into the room, I instantly saw and hear two of my friends, Adeline and Kevin, who said they couldn't make it. Honestly I'd been a bit unhappy when they said that. But there they were, and although that should have made it perfect, still there's a nagging feeling in my heart. There was someone, the last one of my closest Form 6 friends, who was absent as she needed to practise for her church Easter performance. That scenario was where God's goodness came into play:

MSN messages by Alison (Alie Wok)

In the end, my friends off the deafening music and left the microphones on. It was 6pm and my sis had already left to meet her friends as planned. Yet again they sang the birthday song, and after that demanded me to give a speech. Apart from telling them that they'd caught me this time, especially those who said they couldn't come, there's nothing more I could say. At last they decided to speak themselves. and so tears began to flow. I have no idea, probably will never know, what I'd done that made them so touched. Maybe this is love. Perhaps love is this.

Clockwise from left: My sis, dad, me and my mum.:

Back row: Hadi, Leo, Rong Fuh, Hui Jun, Munirah, Adeline, Kevin and Sze Sern. Front: Erik, Wai Kit and me.


Back row: Hadi, Rong Fuh and Kevin. 2nd row: Leo, Wai Kit and me. Front: Erik

Clockwise from left: Hui Jun, Adeline, Alison, me and Munirah.

Finally, they sang (yes again) another birthday song before I left. At the lift, I was really happy and felt so grateful to have this bunch of friends who had given a piece of their hearts to me. My 21st birthday was already more than I had wanted, even more than I had expected. But I didn't know that it was going to be more than I would dare to imagine; that the end was just the beginning...

Today I Am 21 Years Old

2011-04-12T00:00:00.014+08:00

During one of my recent interviews lately for a students' magazine, the young female interviewer asked, "If God were to give you three days to walk, what would you do in those three days?" I've been asked predictable questions in exclusive interviews after I received my STPM results. But that imaginative scenario was one of a kind, a question that searched deep within my heart to find what was I thinking - or rather feeling, about my life, about what if and about if I.

"Even if God had given a choice between to walk or not to walk, and that He had showed the people I would meet in either option, I - looking at my family, teachers and friends I'm having right now - would have chosen not to walk. Because if I were to walk without having them, life would not be worth it at all."

That was all I said.

Honestly I wouldn't elaborate my answer even if I had all day. Her question had prompted many faces to flash across my mind, and my heart was already tearing as I blurted the above words with my subdued voice. If I had gone on, I would really break.

My life is far from a breeze. And some may think that I'm plain dumb and stupid for choosing to be caged in a wheelchair if given a choice. But I've realised that by being disabled, I experience patient, prevailing and unfailing love shown by my family; I learned from my teachers that flying is possible even for those with crippled wings, and I have the chance to literally touch the hearts of my friends.

Today, though darkness do sometimes creep into my life, I want to declare I'm contented with what I've gone through. Allow me to say that if God decided to take me to heaven at this very moment, I would have no regrets. I have just enough time to take a glimpse of the best side of humans: The kind of love that's inexplicable, illogical and in simplest terms, I've seen blind love.

If asked again, still the same choice would have been made.

I would suffer more? Still the same.

My life would be short? Same.

Because of YOU - those whom I have met, am meeting and will meet come the next phase of my life.

Power

2011-04-06T11:14:00.002+08:00

The following depicts a disturbing use of power by a man who can't even feed himself. Readers' discretion is advised.

Let's say I work in an investment company. After toiling through years of helping the company to earn millions of ringgit, I'm promoted to be the CEO. Not only that. Being an accurate market analyst, I've steered the company away from economic turmoils, making us rise when everyone falls. I've even speculated bonds that has ended with multi-billion dollar companies declaring bankruptcy. With this kind of track record and my current position, I'm ready, and able, to wreck more havoc.

Which is a reason good enough for me to have bodyguards enveloping me like bees around a beehive. But no. When I reach a stage when someone is willing to die to kill me, I'm not going to hire men in black. Not even one.

Unlike the rich and famous, my convoy that follows me like a tail wouldn't be wearing Kevlars. I will assemble a uniquely personal team that's closer to me than my own shadow. And one of them, I'm sure you've never thought of, is simply a photographer.

My urge to have a cameraman following me is not just to readily capture moments I'll spend with my family and friends, but to also snap them with strangers. With or without a camera, when a person wants to have a picture with me, my photographer must have a copy. Because the smiling faces of total strangers remind me of the lives I affect in every decision I make. One moment they may be cheerful; the other they may be taking their own lives, because of me; of my position; of my power.

Next, quite expectedly, I'll need a personal assistant, but not doing the task my maid is responsible for. Preferably a female, for her one of her jobs is to control my finance. She pays when I instruct, but can also, here's the shocking part, splash cash as she pleases. But her most important task is to keep me connected with my family and friends. She'll answer calls related to work, but if my friends are finding me just to whine about Liverpool losing, I'll talk directly. Even when I'm too busy, she'll force me to.

Finally, I'll need a right-hand man. Due to my radical viewpoints and I-may-die-tomorrow attitude, I may do something that benefits the minority but brings little, if not zero or even negative, revenue to my company. He must valiantly fight for my ways and stand undeterred in my beliefs. When disagreements among naysayers arise, he needs to have the guts to reply, "Who cares. His fortune is enough for three generations. He doesn't mind losing, and neither should you."

Given such freedom, my team can usurp my power whenever they feel like it. They have the required information to eliminate me. But that's exactly how I want them to be. In fact they must take away everything I have when I become blinded by posh, props and possessions. When humans reach the top, overseeing things they've conquered, they tend to lose sight and even forget the base where they've started. And that's why I give them such freedom; to fix my eyes on my root and what matters to me.

Honestly, if things turn out the way I've imagined here, surprise surprise, it'll be boring. My life is interesting because of its unpredictability, because of the purpose of the Man upstairs. After all, He is omnipotent, and I would love to live for His awesomeness.

So when you become a VIP, do you really want men in suits and dark specs to follow you?

1 to 50 About Myself

2011-03-31T11:14:00.039+08:00

It's a frustrating journey of self-discovery. And it's made so by the fact that what all numbers mean to me doesn't come so naturally: some are downright clear, others are surprising while a few haven't even made any sense as I write this down. Yes, I can only relate 47 numbers to my life, and it has taken too long by now to continue figuring them out. So for what with the leftover 3? Well I guess failure is a part of me too:

1 - Desire to win and to be the best in everything I do.

2 - Would always appear in 2 - me & my maid - for any social outings.

3 - My high school gang consists of 3 - a prefect, a librarian and an abnormal student (me).

4 - I'm a Chinese and 4 is an unlucky number. So pardon me, it's ignored.

5 - Currently, there are 5 animations in my all-time favourite list: Cars, Finding Nemo, The Incredibles, Toy Story and Wall-E.

6 - I didn't colour number 6 when I was in kindergarten and it's the first time (and thank God the last) I got rebuked by a teacher.

7 - I'd known David Beckham before I learned all the rules of football. Subconsciously, 7 has become my natural choice of lucky number.

8 - Besides badminton, track cycling is my favourite Olympic sport. There are 8 laps in the most exciting, thrilling event called keirin.

9 - It's the 9th year I'm living in this house, having the 9th maid and being a Christian for the 9th year.

10 - At age 10, I started to play PlayStation. That's the beginning of my first fall.

11 - 11 players in football - my most favourite sport.

12 - Yes, my birthday falls on 12 April, but did you know it's around 12 noon?

13 - I'm a Chinese who admires the Western. So pardon me again, 13 is ignored.

14 - At age 14, I stepped into secondary school and the beautiful nightmare began.

15 - At age 15, went in and out of hospital 3 times. It was the most serious, worrying period in my life.

16 - At age 16, I tasted my first publicly-known academic success.

17 - 2002 FIFA World Cup may be the only edition I follow closely. And its final televised in civilised hours may be the only world cup final I would ever watch live. That year's is the 17th edition.

18 - If you're an avid movie-goer, you would have realised that Malaysia's censorship is pretty good. An excessive movie gets banned altogether. As such, I watched 18+ shows before I reached that age.

19 - At age 19, I got shocking SPM results, failed in my IB Scholarship bid and enrolled in a course I never wanted to. But let me declare now that my life couldn't have gone much better.

20 - Thank God that I'm born in this Facebook era, reaping social benefits, and entertainment from an otherwise dull life, from what Mark created when he was 20.

21 - Blackjack was the first casino game I learned.

22 - It's a class that had gone against all odds. A class where every one of its members bullied and teased, competed and joked with and enjoyed each other. Arts 1 '09 / '10 consisted of 22 life-changing mates.

23 - Michael Jordan was the first sportsman I got to know I was a child. His shirt number was 23, which coincidently was what Beckham wore when he played for Real Madrid.

24 - Totalling all grades I had achieved through UPSR, PMR, SPM and STPM, I obtained 24 A's.

25 - My sister's current age

26 - My lowest academic position in class ever recorded is 26th.

27 - This description about me is the 27th blog post of the year. Till now, I'm pretty satisfied of what I've written in 2011.

28 - Monopoly was my favourite board game before my interest in chess was developed. Now, like all childhood memories, the excitement of playing Monopoly still lingers. There are 28 properties in this classic game.

29 - I'm still watching a 29" box television set.

30 - As mentioned, badminton is one of my favourite Olympic sports. Not many know that 30 is the maximum point. When the game is tied at 29-29, instead of deuce, taker of next point wins. To date, that point hasn't been reached.

31 - Supports McLaren Mercedes in Formula 1. But the most successful team - Ferrari - have won 31 honours, summing both World Drivers' and Constructors' Championships.

32 - There are 32 pieces in chess, my favourite strategy game.

33 - Adding the duration of all papers, I sat for STPM in 33 gruelling hours.

34 - Can't figure out what this number represents. As I've said, failure is, and will still be, part of my meaningful life.

35 - It's a class where I was trained to be highly competitive and laid the foundation for future paradigm shifts (penganjakan paradigma was our common BM essay term). A class where everyone pushed each other to the limit and beyond. There were 35 fighting comrades in 5 Alpha '08.

36 - Considering Premier League, FA Cup, League Cup and UEFA Champions League, 36 honours have been won by Manchester United, a club I support.

37 - To date, there are 37 books in my virtual library, most of which have been reviewed here.

38 - "Sam Pat" which means busybody = me

39 - There are 39 movie reviews in this blog, but please know that I watched more even before I could structure a proper sentence.

40 - I was sent for acupuncture when I was a kid. For three times a week, I cried every time each of those 40 needles pierced into me.

41 - Add all digits of my identification card number and you'll get 41.

42 - In Cars, the lead actor, I mean car, has number 42 pasted on his body...I mean car.

43 - Over 50, 43 was the highest mark I scored for my English essay in Form 5, and that has paved my writing interest.

44 - In a week, there were 44 periods of lessons during Form 4 and 5, with 40 minutes for each period. How challenging? Do the Maths and quantify my physical condition.

45 - Odd. Both number and me.

46 - Blank for this number. Well my mind does become blank, especially when solving problems related to numbers.

47 - I scored 47 for Biology of SPM Trial, the lowest mark I had ever achieved throughout my schooling years.

48 - When I can't think of any solution, I'd let it be. It's not about giving up, it's giving in to life's imperfections.

49 - 49 is the first square number with both digit as squares too. This, however forcefully, represents my love for Maths.

50 - My parents are 50 years old.

51 - Add all digits of my mobile phone number and you'll get 51.

52 - There are 52 glowing stars in my bedroom.

53 - Oops sorry... It has passed 50...

There are around 50 facts above about my life. Yet I assure you there are plenty more about me that hasn't been revealed; things I consider as private at this moment. All shall know, though, when I publish an autobiography, if I really do.

Books I've Read & Movies I've Watched

2011-03-23T17:58:00.003+08:00

The Finkler Question by Howard Jacobson

Labouring through this book has taught me a lesson - a prize winner doesn't necessarily mean it's worth reading. While judges of Man Booker Prize 2010 certainly thought so, I couldn't care much about those three main characters of the story. Julian Treslove has an identity crisis. Libor Sevcik has just become a widow. And Samuel Finkler apparently is ashamed of his own race - Jews.

The story should have taken off when Treslove is robbed on one evening, but it's dragged aimlessly around those hopeless men, only for Howard's beautiful writing style to make this book readable. That mysterious thief - gender, purpose and why Treslove - were not even solved in the end. Though there are countless novels with more engaging characters, sadly, this prize winner isn't one. Again, blame my ineptitude towards literature.

Rating: 2.5 / 5

The Gift by Cecelia Ahern

Have you ever wished that you could be at two places at the same time? Have you ever wished that you could clone yourself so that one of you could handle a task while the other you attend to another? Well if you have, your lifestyle must be in dire need of time. You must have been so caught up with the world's rat race that you want two of you to finish the race winning. Wished it or not, The Gift explores that possibility - what makes it necessary and what happens after that.

So what if I had two of me? Now, during this sabbatical period, even one of me is passing time with boring, mundane, passive activities. I can't imagine what I would do with another me. Nevertheless, if I came in two persons, I would put the 2nd one just metres away from me. That clone does nothing except from witnessing all that I do. The other me would be like a lighthouse, an alarm clock, always telling me to get my acts right, audibly:

"James, you're not doing enough to be an inspiration."

"James, you're wasting your time blogging. Nobody reads."

"James, be stupid for one second and..."

Because all of us need constant reminders of what matters to us the most.

If you came in two, what would the other do?

*Coincidently, I came close to that idea in here and here.

Rating: 4 / 5

The Social Network

When The Facebook is garnering more and more members, the site's CFO - Eduardo Saverin, insists on finding advertisements which would generate revenue for him and Mark Zuckerberg, the CEO and co-founder. "It's uncool," replies Mark, and when both of them meet with Napster's fallen creator, Sean Parker, he drives home the point:

"It's like you're throwing the greatest party on campus and somebody says it's gotta be over by 11...You don't even know what the thing is yet...How big it can get. How far it can go. This is no time to take your chips down. A million dollars isn't cool. You know what's cool? A billion dollars."

Not agreeing that my blog could earn that much of money, but I'm certainly in the process of getting more readers, experimenting with various writing techniques and testing how big, and influential, can Unseen Footsteps become. Google AdSense and Nuffnang are just clicks away, but at this stage I'm intent on keeping my blog pop-up free, clean from ads and cool.

Rating: 4 / 5

Buried

The movie poster says it all. For around 90 minutes all you see is a man trapped in a coffin, buried underground, and with only a mobile phone as his last chance to survive. The story is untypical in two ways: 1) Its plot exposition curves upwardly and ends at climax and 2) An intriguing tale, which lingers long after it's finished, is told only by using simple devices. With life's complexities and my strenuous efforts to put them down into words, Buried is a refreshing example that I don't need bomb, booze, beauty and beast to a create captivating story.

Rating: 4 / 5

The Mechanic

Victory loves preparation. You fail to plan, you plan to fail. Put some weapons under your bed and use them when there's an intruder. Attach dynamites around your house and detonate them when a rascal has broken in. Let people taste their own medicine. Victory loves preparation.

Rating: 3 / 5

World Invasion: Battle Los Angeles

The most effective way of colonisation is to wipe out the land's indigenous people. Interesting. So the most effective way of invading our minds is to wipe out any shred of intelligence and go TAT TAT TAT all the way, with deafening BOOMs, and of course with rhetorical "Marines don't quit" statements.

Rating: 2.5 / 5

You and I Must Be

2011-03-22T11:50:00.003+08:00

You must be a cruel thief,

because brutally you have stolen my heart;

And I must be a fallen leaf,

because my body and soul are torn apart.

You must be a good runner,
because you're always running in my mind;
And I must be a weak fighter,
because I fight for you all the time.

You must be a secret keeper,
because no one knows what to me you do;
And I must be a blind shooter,
because no matter how hard I try I still miss you.

You must be an angel not a person,
because to me you're elegant and swift like a dove;
And I must be condemned and sent to prison,
because I, not you, have committed a crime called love.

I'm running to chase and to flee from being chased
Like a frightened beast desperate to hide his face
I shouldn't think of you even it's without a trace
Yet this is how mad I am, in this never ending race

*I need to clarify that the above lines do not represent how I felt or what I'm feeling. Since the person who can't be named (that person exists) dared me with such crazy words, I've decided to play along his/her rules and be hair-raisingly wild.

Overwhelmed

2011-03-18T19:45:00.004+08:00

For the sake of being an informed person, we should read up on what's happening in Japan. And I've done that, but am increasingly tired of doing so, of getting to know posts after pages after pictures of disturbing news. Forgive me if I'm against your principles, but let me honestly share with you that I'm close to the point of total negligence. So what if all reactors of Fukushima's nuclear plant were overheated. So what if radiation was leaking dangerously. So what if the world was really coming to an end...

I feel helpless, and utterly meaningless to dwell myself among videos and images of mass, natural destruction. Seven days ago, at 2:46 pm, the northeastern coast of Japan shook violently, unleashing a 23-feet tsunami which engulfed everything in its, obliterating houses and hurling cars and ships as if they were toys. Worse, it hasn't been any better, and things are in fact spiralling out of control. At these moments, I feel that people outside the devastated country should close their ears and eyes and put their hands together.

There's no point for laymen like us to swallow bitter news. What if we knew everything, but couldn't do anything except avoiding sushi for the next few years. This twin disasters are to me a reminder, not of apocalypse or retribution, but of the love that exists, that really does exist, among all of us:

Tokyo Disneyland was handing out its shops’ food and drinks for free to the stranded people nearby. I saw a bunch of snobby looking high school girls walking away with large portions of it and initially thought, “What the …” But I later found out they were taking them to the families with little children at emergency evacuation areas. Very perceptive of them, and a very kind thing to do indeed.

http://twitter.com/unosuke/status/46376846505426944

It was cold and I was getting very weary waiting forever for the train to come. Some homeless people saw me, gave me some of their own cardboard boxes saying “you’ll be warmer if you sit on these!” I have always walked by homeless people pretending I haven't seen them, and yet here they were offering me warmth. Such warm people.

http://twitter.com/aquarius_rabbit/status/46213254376210432

Yesterday, I was impressed and touched by the actions of my neighbor’s 13-year-old-boy. He was home alone when the earthquake hit. But instead of hiding, as soon as the earthquake quieted down, he jumped on his bicycle and road around the block repeatedly shouting at the top of his voice, “Is everyone alright? Is everyone okay?” At that time, there were only women and children and the elderly in the homes. I cannot describe how comforting it was just to hear a strong voice asking if I was okay. Thank you.

http://twitter.com/RUMI88LoL/statuses/46342599149240320

I spoke with an old taxi driver and some elderly staff at the train stations. All of them had been working non-stop and had not been able to go home for a long time. They were visibly very tired, but never once did they show any sign of impatience; they were gentle and very caring. They told me “… because all of us are in this together.” I was touched at what the notion of “all of us” meant to these elderly people. It is a value I will treasure and carry on through my generation.

http://twitter.com/n_yum/statuses/46388003706380288

Life is fragile. And for us who are still safe from nature's wrath, we should appreciate life as it is - the will to live, the heart to help and the calling to love. The world is going to end, however it will; by natural causes or our errors. So at times like these when we're staring blankly at doom, let us cling onto each other, understanding people across creed and colour. Maybe by showing a tad bit more of our love we could calm a raging Mother Nature, or at least make this dying Earth a better place for you, me, he, she, them and it...

Notes from survivors looking for loved ones adorn the entrance of Natori City Hall in northern Japan on March 16, 2011. (Image and caption taken from Time)

Unlike those e-mails asking you to send them to 10 people to avoid Mickey Mouse from jumping out of your wardrobe, you don't need to share or even like this post. But I sincerely request you to say a prayer after reading this. Pray for each note in the picture above. Talk to God about those you know and those you don't, give thanks for the joy you have and pain you don't, and ask for the love you have to shower on those who don't. God bless and thank you.

*Twitter excerpts are taken from here, emphasised and corrected slightly for grammatical fluency.

Youth

2011-03-15T19:24:00.004+08:00

Y wakes up one morning of another ordinary day. It's running late and so he throws himself around the toilet, splash water on every part of his body and dress himself with that mundane school uniform. At school, physics class creates clouds above his head. Y is introduced to Albert Einstein and his famous equation. He published his theory of relativity in 1905. His age was 26.

Back at home after a boring, uneventful day of learning, Y lurches towards the sofa, on the TV and flips through multiple channels. He arrives on ESPN showing Real Madrid being humiliated by Barcelona. Cristiano Ronaldo seems to have lost his magic after he left the Red Devils. But he's still one of the best, and had been the best when he was crowned the FIFA World Player of the Year in 2008. His age was 23.

With a blink of an eye, Y is watching a different channel again. But now it shows a man he adores more for his 'clean image' than his playing prowess on the grass. It will be long before Tiger Woods acquire back his reign of invincibility. But take nothing away from a guy who won The Masters only months after he stepped into professional golf. His age was 22.

The TV is even more sleep-inducing than the quadratic formula Y learned that morning. So he decides to be a good student and starts his homework.

After 5 minutes of holding the pen stationary, his gaze turns wickedly towards the computer, and he dashes to it with even more wicked grin. He on his iMac, texts his friends with an iPhone and on his iPad with notes just in case his mother comes in. The devices are evil, he thinks, but he worships Steve Jobs who found Apple with another guy. His age was 21.

Something's missing. Ah yes, music! Y grabs his iPod and stuck the earphones into his nostrils... I mean ears. Back To December is playing in his mind, sending him back into that blissful night which ended rather brutally. Definitely Taylor Swift has gone (or drowned) as deep as he has into the sea of love, for she won the Grammy Awards for Album of the Year. Her age was 21.

At the brink of dawn, it's time to face the book. Y logs on into his account and sees pictures of his foe whom he despises so greatly that he pukes the instant the enemy's shadow appears. But Y haven't deleted her, with hopes of witnessing her being exploited by her boss through this cruel networking site. Thank God for Mark Zuckerberg, and Harvard's dormitory where he wrote codes of history. His age was 20.

Let's stop here. Believe it or not, some - if not most - of the greatest inventions, achievements and breakthroughs are done by youths. Almost every single tool you encounter daily was imagined by youths. In short, youths' potentials are boundless. If we pressed on with undeterred will, we would have been hand-in-hand with world's figures. But then again, so what? You look at yourself and assume that you're simply not born to be like them, let alone accomplishing feats as influential as theirs.

You're right.

But let's look back at Y.

Though Y sucks at Physics, English Literature is his forte. During recess, he explained clearly about all terminologies his friends were confused of. After school, he went for lunch with his pals. At a corner of the mamak restaurant, Y saw two kids sharing a plate of fried noodles. Strapped on their waists were bags of packet tissues. They ate hurriedly, fearing of course they wouldn't be able to sell all those tissues. It's time for Y to leave. He went to the cashier, dug out that day's allowance and paid for the kids.

Since it's Friday and Y didn't need to finish homework in a rush, he went to an orphanage near his home. Y taught English to the kids, and encouraged them to speak and write whatever that's on their minds. After that, Y had a futsal game with the boys; a habit he practises on every Friday. It's a way, he thinks, to liberalise them for a moment. Then back at home, when he was clicking through pictures of his foe, the chat window popped-up. Y's tired, but he knew his friend needed a listener, and so Y became one as the sun bleed above the horizon...

You're right. God didn't create you to be like anyone else to achieve similar historic goals. You're born for a time like this, for a purpose only you can fulfil. Y is not a genius who's changing world, but he uses his strengths and invests his time to help those around him, something youths today have ample opportunities to do so. If you're a youth, which most of my current readers are, then this is your time to make a difference. Look around you.

YOU ARE NEEDED

by God and His people

Ann's and Mun's Birthday

2011-03-05T11:12:00.003+08:00

6:30pm. Cold. Hungry. While a friend was enjoying a bowl of wanton mee at food court and another busy with shopping for gifts at Parkson, I decided to start the dinner with a cup of coffee and a plate of appetiser as I waited alone at Pizza Hut for the rest to arrive. At a corner of a long table, facing the wallpaper above cushioned seats, I waited for my friends to gather for a celebration of Ann's and Munirah's birthdays. The latter's is exactly on 4th of March, while the former's is 4 days before.

Though I can't see the front door of the restaurant, I knew that if the girls - Alie, Ade and Mun - arrive, they would simply shout for my name from metres away to announce that they were there. Arrive first and shout they did. We ordered a set for 4 persons as our remaining invited friends came one by one. It was nearly 8:30 pm when all were gathered, and as they enter into the workforce as part-timers nowadays, we all gossiped about predictable life events - from colleagues to boss to quitting with furthering studies as a lame excuse.

As all customers were talking with chunks of food stuck in their mouths, the PA system sang the birthday song, loud enough to demand the attention of all. The problem was, Hadi - the cake buyer and wanton mee eater - was sitting around us as confused as everyone. He hadn't summoned the cake, and as I looked at him trying to know whether the song was meant for them, his dilated eyes told me he's more shocked than me. The birthday song switched to a fast-paced tune. The waiters and waitresses were walking towards us. Then stopped, and focused, on the guests just beside us.

Hadi sighed in relief...

Eventually our cake was presented later, but without the deafening PA system singing, and without the noise and chants of the restaurant workers. Just Syahir carrying the cake with two candles lighted and we singing for them. Then the birthday girls took pictures, pictures and pictures. Alie was giving, giving and giving presents. And Kevin and I were throwing money to each other, wanting to pay for the bill completely. In the end, Kevin - the Parkson shopper, paid the bill. At 9:30pm, many left for home. But Hadi, Kevin, Alie, Mun and I went to DOME to have a drink.

At the cafe, we decided many things, and laughed even more. Most decisions we made are private, but there's one issue where I just need to declare to the whole wide world: We must buy Phang Sze Sern, PS2 in short, a meal to appreciate his concern. For some reason, PS2 didn't attend the dinner, but let me tell you that I was told, like how a staff receives orders from a boss, by Ah Phang the things I needed to do to ensure a smooth party. You worry too much about your friends, PS2. For that, I represent everyone to convey our sincerest thanks to you.

You should really take a break, Ann. I like your sexy voice, no doubt, but you need to look after your health. Sleep early and regain your strength to fight for another day. I hope you enjoyed the night, and may God lead you according to His will...

We, I mean you, really could talk, Mun. We didn't stop from the moment you closed the car door in the parking lot till the moment you opened it again when we reached your flat. I hope you enjoyed the night, and may your laughter be as bright as the Moon...

Girls from left: Li Ting, Suang Yuan, Ann, Munirah, Adeline and Alison
Boys from left: Syahir, Kevin, Me and Hadi

PS: At DOME, we heard the birthday song for the third time. And we just looked at each other and laughed...

Today My Dad Is 50 Years Old

2011-03-02T00:00:00.004+08:00

On the previous Chinese New Year, my aunt remarked that both her husband and my dad are men of endangered species, near extinction to be precise. While I totally agree with her, I would go so far as to claim that besides my dad, men who are willing to care for a disabled person are few and countable. My presence must have caused sorrow within his heart, yet through all sickness that aging brings forth to him, he still provides me with an environment to live well; to live meaningfully.

I can observe that his health is deteriorating. He is not as immune as he used to be - being strong enough to soak in rain and scorched by the sun as he worked tirelessly for my family. It's obvious that my father is getting old, but his desire - the only purpose that drives him to work even harder - is ever so volatile. Me and my sis are always on his mind, and he makes sure that in spite of all, we get the best in terms of education. He said that it's okay to fail a subject, but he's always the first, before my mum, to ask for my results.

Chinese-educated and rarely spoke English when he was young, my father wouldn't understand this post without translation. But he understands, in fact embraces them wholly, the characters of a father. He never whines verbally or curse his life, but I know there were times when his heart wrecked violently thinking of my future - who will I be, what will I do and most importantly, who will look after me. He seldom portrays his softer side, but like how every dad loves his boy, he must have felt and questioned like how the father does in this song:

I'm down on my knees again tonight,
I'm hoping this prayer will turn out right,
See there is a boy that needs your help,
I've done all that I can do myself.

His mother is tired,
I'm sure you can understand,
Each night as he sleeps,
She goes in to hold his hand,
And she tries,
Not to cry,
As the tears, fill her eyes.

(Chorus)
Can you hear me?
Am I getting through tonight?
Can you see him?
Can you make him feel alright?
If you can hear me,
Let me take his place somehow,
See he's not just anyone,
He's My Son.

Sometimes late at night I watch him sleep,
I dream of the boy he'd like to be,
I try to be strong and see him through,
But God who he needs right now is you.

Let him grow old,
Live life without this fear,
What would I be?
Living without him here,
He's so tired,
And he's scared,
Let him know, that you're there.

(Chorus)

Can you hear me?
Can you see him?
Please don't leave him,
He's My Son.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD

Success

2011-02-27T19:56:00.005+08:00

Compared to the national top scoring 5As twins - Aimee and Charlotte, who were both my Form 5 classmates; compared to St. John's four 4-flat students - 3 of whom are from Science and the other from Arts; compared to my own expectation of making the perfect score - including clean As for all subject papers, my STPM results of 2A and 2A- are so close, yet so far. CGPA of 3.84 is good, in fact better than many, but simply not the best.

Yet amongst greater achievements made by them, MINE is unlike any other. Before I define success, particularly why I've been blessed with something special, the following are some wishes I received after my results were made known:

It was a privilege to have taught you. You don't know how much you have impacted people's lives. May God bless you abundantly dear James.

- Ms Low, Economics teacher of St. John's Institution

Congrats James. You continue to be an awesome inspiration to all of us. Tomorrow I will read your SMS to the school so that we can all share the pride and joy.

- Pn Song, counselor of SMK Seri Bintang Utara

I tasted victory with other victors. I'd been the single winner among gracious losers. Now I've achieved a commendable feat, not the best, together with my mates who have performed exceedingly well. Upper 6 Arts 1 2010 impressed all by having at least 17 out of 22 students who achieved CGPA of 3.0 and above. Which means, quoting from my friend, that we have a pleasant problem since we'll be competing each other for a place in the universities.

Success is not about the best. It's about encouraging each other to be better than who we think we are. It's not about top, but about being at the edge hand-in-hand with fellow climbers. And it's not about winning, but about trying hard together and savours whatever outcome as one. Honestly, I realise that I do inspire people, but I'll never know to what extent. During my Form 6 times, if I have fired one to work a little harder; if I have inspired one to believe that he, too, could reach for a star, then 2A and 2A- are God's extra gifts. Seriously, it's God's extra gifts.

In short, I am successful, because others are. And my success is incomparable.

Still the question lingers: Am I happy? I was informed, secretly on Thursday, 17 Feb, to attend Anugerah Pelajar Cemerlang STPM at Bangunan MPM, but I wasn't told about my results. Either the principal did not know or chose not to reveal, it had left me guessing. Nevertheless, as my father drove to the designated place on the following Monday morning, I sensed that God was telling me that this is my day, and He reminded me that the sky was clear on the last day of STPM.

Looking at the plaque I received, I am contented, and I AM happy. On that morning, I thought that the ceremony would require an award acceptance speech, like the Oscars, and so besides wondering helplessly about my grades, I imagined myself holding a statue, a cert or anything, and uttered these words:

Thank you to those who made this day possible for me.

To my friends, who have accepted me for who I am.

To my teachers, who have taken me beyond my limits.

To my family, who have raised me to more than I can be.

And to God, for putting these wonderful, lovely people into my life.

This award belongs to everyone I know. You have achieved this through me.

Thank you.

I didn't need to give the speech. Instead, I was attacked, and let me repeat that - ATTACKED - by continuous, blinding camera flashes for more than 10 minutes. Therefore, I would like to strongly emphasise to top students and fellow disabled peers that it wasn't my intention to be basked in the limelight for that long. Humbly I admit again that I'm simply not the best, and many, many more deserve the plaudits. But if there's a message that I want to get across through the media, it is this:

God has blessed me with good health and helpful people to gain this success. But I know there are countless, underprivileged or abandoned disabled who never even have the chance to learn. So lend a hand, groom them up, and they'll surpass me. If there's one, even just one, who is motivated by me to become a better person, then my success has just gotten BIGGER.

I've said enough times that this success is shared by many. I thought of tearing my result slip into pieces and give a shred to each person. But I've not gone cuckoo from studying, and thus I end with a simple verse I dedicate to all:

Penat lesu ku meredah onak dan duri,

Ditumpas pahit getir, tetap ku daki,

Terjumpa rakan yang rela mencurah bakti,

Marilah ke puncak, sama-sama kita kecapi.

The epilogue of my Form 6 chapter ends beautifully. What's next? Or rather... Who's next?

Friendship

2011-02-20T21:00:00.013+08:00

If there was a time when your friend seemed to be greatest; if there was a moment when your buddy seemed to be a long lost sibling; if there was an instant when no one else could make you feel as good as your mate, then that friendship, no matter it has grown or faded over the years, was worth forging after all. I myself has made and lost some along the way. But I'm sure you have heard that one would only need a few close friends in life. Thank God, that though things may change in the future, now I know friends whom I can confide in and they in me.

And thank God that among those whom I've kept contact with, some of them have greatly influenced me as a person. The friendships I've made, for which I am forever thankful, have been planned in heaven to mould me to become who I am today. I couldn't possibly write everyone who have shaped my life. But you know who you are. And the six below represent different groups of people who have let me tasted sugar and salt:

Your experience of undergoing an operation when you were young made you empathised with my condition. In any way, your wisdom has taught me a lot. More importantly, you accepted me for who I am, opening my mind to what friendship really means. Thank you. From you, I learned to be a gentleman, dictated by logic and never succumb to adversities.

You were never afraid to voice your opinions, no matter how unorthodox it may seem. Till now, optimism still flares from you, and you still promote that all things are still possible, in the name of science; in the name of miracle. Thank you. From you, I learned bravery in conceiving radical ideas, and to have a firm stand on my own beliefs, no matter what the odds are.

I admire your perseverance to succeed, but at the same time you showed me that though one may be a winner in almost everything she does, she is still vulnerable on certain spots. Thank you. From you, I learned to have that winning mentality ingrained in my mind, to settle for nowhere lower than top, and to erase failure out of my dictionary.

Days of my secondary school built the foundation of who I will be tomorrow. The training I went through from stressful competition has made me poised to always dash for the best in everything I do. My friends planted the seeds, from which others would water, nurture and care until they grow into beautiful plants. And surely by God's will, my Form 6 friends took care of those plants exceedingly well:

Power play was your forte, and strongly delivering your stand, whether people like it or not, made you a figure people would look for when they need to get things done. Thank you. From you, I learned to be direct, to not be intimidated by people above me, and to be courageous in fighting for what I believe is true.

You have great potential to soar above where you think you're capable of. Yet the character that makes you you is your charisma. I respect that, for among all boys whom I know have talents, you're the one who has a kind, gentle heart and an opinionated mind to use them through. Thank you. From you, I learned to be funny, witty and crazy, but above all, I learned to be a man.

Through you, I'm reminded that without God, all is in vain. I've realised that faith really could move mountains. And I've begun to believe that not only everything happens for a reason, it happens for His reason. Thank you. From you, I learned to trust God in everything I do, and to do it with humility, bearing in mind that He is in control.

There are few people like me who could get educated. Fewer could learn with normal students. Even fewer who could make good friends. I'm grateful to God that I am one of those blessed disabled who have come across great people whom we could call as friends. It doesn't matter whether we'll meet, talk or laugh again. The fact is we have, and you have accepted my shortcomings with open minds and caring hearts. Till now, most people I've met have been helpful, and so for those who are willing to identify yourself as a friend of mine, I sincerely thank God for putting you into my life.

By the time this post is published, STPM results will be released in around 15 hours. To my Johannian friends, I wish you all the best (though I'm biting my nails too... =P). But at this stage, what we need more than wishes are calm and composed mind and heart. Congratulations in advance to those who achieve your target. To those who don't, life is more than exams, and you'll find a way forward if you seek diligently. Meanwhile, below is a video I made specially for Arts 1 (view a better quality copy in Facebook). So blast your volume and enjoy!

Movie Marathon 2011

2011-02-19T12:26:00.012+08:00

Like last year, Chinese New Year was the only period when my family and I wanted to watch a few movies in a short span of time. As such, we caught three movies during those 15 days of CNY and the following are my thoughts after watching them:

Andy Lau just can't immerse himself into his character, Hao, though a scene where he practises martial arts with a boy is worth noticing. And while Nicholas Tse seems to get better playing a villain, Cao, his remorseful expression after seeing countless dead bodies caused by his greed is hard to believe, void of emotional punch. Having said that, kung fu scenes are aplenty, and Jackie Chan serves up a good deal of humour and wit as the temple's cook. The moral of the story is seeking enlightening after evil engulfs a person, but it could have been better exploited than to tragically take one by one away.

Rating: 3.5 / 5

Before entering the cinema, I feared that I wouldn't understand whatever Jay Chou says in the movie. I even thought that his indecipherable words would be a source of joke. Anyway, no doubt that Britt Reid (Seth Rogen) is funny, and he has a great chemistry with his sidekick, Kato (Jay Chou). But after a while I just wanted Reid to shut-up from his annoying and boring rant. The one character who stands out is Chudnofsky (Christoph Waltz) who is the head of all gang members in LA. Kato is cool, Britt is useless, Chudnofsky is lovingly tasteless.

Rating: 3 / 5

Lousy. Enough said. Time for lunch.

Rating: 1.5 / 5

The Story of My Life by Helen Keller

2011-02-16T17:10:00.004+08:00

If you think that my life is tough - or your life is for that matter, you're tragically wrong. Really. Even I am deeply humbled by the story of Helen Keller, who viewed her world from an unfathomable perception, a view that left me inspired, that left me grateful of the minor abilities that I still possess in spite of all those that I don't.

Imagine yourself being blind, with only darkness as your vision of the world. Even if sight was taken, you would have sound to compensate; you would have still been able to hear the rain falls, the bird chirps and the lovers talk. But take both away, yes, both sight and sound, and living life as you and I know it becomes plainly unthinkable for me.

Helen Keller is blind and deaf. Unlike me, her will to learn and live are more superior than mine, more steely than my vulnerable, and often failed, commitment to live life to its fullest - the kind of fulfillment my condition can possibly best attain. By using her fingers, she sensed the world around her, and by touching on every single object she came across, Keller taught us unfailing perseverance. And our hearts are what she touched, and will ever be touching, most poignantly.

Nevertheless, thank God that both Keller and I have one thing in common: earthly angels. Her teacher, Miss Sullivan, would spell words on Keller's hands to teach her language. If there's a story, letter by letter. If there's a book, letter by letter. Patience seemed to be the only word that existed for her dedicated teacher. If there's a second word, it must be love - showered endlessly on Keller, given wholeheartedly to raise her, and defined simplistically to show her, and us, a glimpse of love:

"What is love?" I asked.

"...she explained: "You cannot touch the clouds, you know; but you feel the rain and know how glad the flowers and the thirsty earth are to have it after a hot day. You cannot touch love either; but you feel the sweetness that it pours into everything. Without love you would not be happy or want to play."

- The Story of My Life by Helen Keller, Bantam Classics, page 20 to 21

If she had published a book without the help of two most important sensory organs, not to mention lighting up her readers through her experience, what more could I achieve with fully-functioning intellectual abilities? What about you who has perfect motor agility? Don't you feel it's a shame that you're not even doing something as half meaningful as what she did? Well I truthfully do. Really. I believe everyone has a purpose, and the prerequisites, to fulfil what God has planned. So let's realise that.

Rating: 4 / 5

*A thorough book review, which I have decided not to write any more to produce more personal thoughts on books, can be obtained here.

Love Letter

2011-02-14T19:35:00.006+08:00

Dear You,

It's the time of the year again when my heart longs for you; when my body aches for and when my soul craves for you. Oh, just the thought of you makes me startled, with chills tingling down my spine and hot blood rush through my veins.

I pray you will appear immediately, to satisfy my hunger for you, my insatiable urge to taste you, but you are so far away, you are never meant for me, never have and never will be.

Worse, I know as I pour out my heart at this very moment, you're being enjoyed by another man. It hurts like a dagger piercing through my chest and plunging into my heart.

The pain must have made me insane. Though you're now happily with another man, yet I want to confess my feelings for you. On this meaningful day, I want you to know how much you mean to me.

To strangers, the best is how you look. So smooth, flawless, with perfect tan skin. Touching you is like being embraced by the morning dew - cold yet alive. But I, who are dearest to you, know it's your inside that binds me to you.

When you're peeled off from everything, you amaze me by your sweetness. You left me stunned by how gently you caress my lips, And one breath of your body scent makes me feel as though I'm born for you. Just for you.

You have seduced me, and I'm sorry that I've given in to temptation. You've lured me into an endless search for you, but I know I'll never find you. Never completely possess you. Never be mine. Never, with only a picture to mildly cure my desperation for you.

Happy Valentine's Day... I love you

From,
Me

PS: My apology to the man you are now with. His anger is worth risking... Again, I love you. Kisses and hugs and more kisses...

The Economics of Integrity by Anna Bernasek

2011-02-09T11:46:00.006+08:00

Having studied Economics in Form 6 has opened a field of books that I can now enjoy. But instead of reading about failed markets, frauds or mismanagement, I chose a more positive non-fiction as a start. And The Economics of Integrity is one inspiring journey, filled with optimistic viewpoints and convincing examples. Nevertheless, however crucial integrity is in creating wealth as put forth by Anna Bernasek, the recent Great Recession hints that some people, as high-ranked as they may be, just refuse to listen, and will never want to.

Spanning 10 chapters with an introduction of integrity in the beginning, Bernasek argues her opinion about integrity with concrete evidence - from production of a single carton of milk to an ATM transaction and from Toyota's quality control to eBay's trading rules. Behind a simple dairy product which we consume daily lies layers of integrity practised everyday by various parties. Behind a renowned automotive brand is a consistent and persistent work ethics to maintain a flawless level of quality. And as I read how business is carried out, no matter how big a company is, I'm persuaded to believe that integrity is what drives economy forward.

My favourite proof about the potential of integrity is how the Federal Reserve Bank of New York handles its gold vault. The gold bricks are stored in numbered cages, with each cage containing gold owned by a private individual or a country. In any gold trade, "gold stackers" instructed by Fed officials would transfer the traded amount of bricks from one cage to another, without knowing who are involved in the transaction. This movement of bricks and any other activity that takes place within the vault are overseen by three trusted Fed officials. Integrity is fully preserved this way, and by constantly going the distance:

"How many people does it take to change a lightbulb in the gold vault? The answer: "Four: one technician and three Fed staffers to watch."

- The Economics of Integrity by Anna Bernasek, Harper Business, page 68

Even without a speck of knowledge about the economy, you could easily understand Bernasek's clear elaborations and enjoy her crisp language. Although it is stated how should we practise integrity to reap the benefits of untapped wealth, the book is centered around American surroundings, with minimal reference to other prominent economic systems. Back at home, Malaysia will definitely have a good shot at achieving high-income status if, and only if, business, projects and trades are run with disclosure, norm and accountability. Until then, let's push aside wishful thinking and examine the bedrock of every single successful economic system - integrity.

Rating: 4 / 5

Happy Chinese New Year

2011-02-03T18:36:00.004+08:00

We used to receive tens of greeting cards for us to decorate our home. We used to watch CNY advertisements even before the first day of Lunar calendar arrived. We used to look forward to TV programs that were lined-up for us during this festive season. But as I write this after hours of meeting, talking and eating, my house is short of the warmth that greeting cards possess. I haven't even viewed all the CNY promos that big companies annually made. Needless to say, I'm not even interested in any shows which have been specially slotted by Astro.

A glaring proof alright, that certain traditions are slowly dissipating from our Chinese culture. I don't know about you, but I could humbly announce that my family still upholds the practice of sending greeting cards. This yearly act of sincerity is so ingrained in my family that when my sis was not around last year, I was simply obliged to write Chinese characters on those cards (view them here). I'm safe this year as my sis has retaken her responsibility, but when I needed to write one for quite an important person, I chose my mother tongue, simply because Chinese is who I am, after all.

I'm sure that if you had been watching television with your family, you would have enjoyed those touching ads together as a family, together in a living hall. Likewise for me, back in those days. However, though I've seen one promo this year, it was through a link posted on Facebook. TV, not sure good or bad, has been knocked down my entertainment list, not to mention the spirit and fun of watching it together. Thankfully, nevertheless, that my family has brought the movie-watching-as-a-family practice to the cinemas, along with my mum's suspenseful shouts of course.

So if there's anything that you should do nowadays and continually do in the future, it must be preserving the tradition which your family has been carrying all this while, or have forgotten to for quite some time. However simple those acts may seem, those are symbols of your family's identity, and as a whole a reflection of Chinese culture. Send as many greeting cards as possible, for its appreciation is more than what text messages could incite. Watch movies with your family, for it's the most common activity both young and old could enjoy. And finally, view those ads, for they always remind you that loved ones are all that you have. Ever.

One of my family's quirkiest tradition is to put the ang pow given by my dad under our pillows overnight. My father would give the ang pow on CNY's eve and we would keep it under our heads, only to open it the next morning. I have no idea why do so or what does it mean. But it's an interesting thing to do, and not at all difficult other than wait (sleep, actually) for a few hours before opening the red packet. Anyway, I wish all my readers far and near, on the East and West, who are clever and crazy a

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR!

Don't Cry Because It's Over, Smile Because It Happened

2011-02-01T20:47:00.000+08:00

I am done; I am crushed; I have lost,
I know I shouldn't hold on to what was,
She is into somebody else,
And I am left all by myself.

Tonight, on my bed, I cry,
I regret that I gave it a try,
At least before there was hope,
But now there is only a rope.

Possessed by grief and despair,
I rise and step up the chair,
To see who I love, love somebody else,
Is the worst of all I can suffer myself.

They say she's the root of all problems,
My God, she is; for I'd been tempted by you,
I fell from grace, fell straight from heavens,
Can't pretend; for you I desire, I really do.

If one has her, oh how lovely,
If one loves her, it's as sweet as honey,
If one is master, she is pretty,
But when one falls prey, curse the Money.

The cards were dealt, I prayed hard as ever.
But the Ace escaped, shock and frozen,
They say don't cry because it's over,
Advise to smile because it happened.

Smiling I am,
As I go into the hang.

Great Day

2011-01-31T10:09:00.001+08:00

If there's a universal story that drives home the point of filial piety; if there are heartwarming characters who could squeeze your heart and jerk your tears; if there's a movie you want to watch once in a blue with your family, more so during this festive season, Great Day is the way. Persuade, convince or even pull your parents to the cinema. Do everything possible with your strength (verbally, that is) to enjoy this show together as a family. As Chinese New Year approaches, let's be reminded that days with our parents aren't that many, and so we should always plus one.

Rating: 4 / 5

Homecoming

2011-01-29T12:00:00.008+08:00

As Karen (Jack Neo) and his son (Ah Niu) travel from Singapore on the eve of Chinese New Year, they meet Mindy who has left his father - Chef Daniel (Mark Lee) who's been working and abandoning Mindy on every eve - to see her divorced mum in KL. Meanwhile, Ah Boon struggles to tell his parents that he and his wife have planned to fly to Bali on that night, meaning both will skip that year's reunion dinner. As mum and son intertwines with the daughter, with a taxi driver (Afdlin Shauki) in the fold, Homecoming is a simple tale of family longing and tradition upholding told in a chuckling and heartfelt, heartwarming voice. Far from "Fantabulous," but it does draw your thoughts close to your family.

Rating: 3.5 / 5

Inspector Singh Investigates: The Singapore School of Villainy by Shamini Flint

2011-01-25T09:42:00.002+08:00

When pushed to the edge, one could just fall off the cliff, resolving to extreme deeds which include murder. Worse still, if a person is brought up in a conventional society with traditional stigmas and critical voices, one could just break like an egg even under minimal, tolerable pressure. But we're not in that person's shoes, not knowing how great his childhood has affected him. So when the guilty steps up to face the hangman's noose, pity is all that we can feel for this person.

This emotional, hopeless and a slightly frightful state is how Shamini Flint's latest crime fiction installment ends. Unlike previous 25 chapters which carry a mysteriously thrilling tone that keeps me eagerly anticipating the unfolding events, and occasional witty lines to lighten things up, The Singapore School of Villainy reaches its close in the 26th with an unexpected murderer whose life is taken away in one of the most memorable chapters of all novels I've read.

In Stop No. 3, Inspector Singh is back in his hometown in Singapore after solving crimes first in Malaysia and then in Indonesia (both of which I've not read). A case opens when Mark Thompson, the most senior partner in an international law firm, is bludgeoned to death in the expatriate's office room. Mark called all his partners for an emergency meeting late one night before his death, making all the partners suspects of a murder that has caught the media's attention.

However, Inspector Singh faces an uphill task finding the murderer among colleagues who want to protect the firm's reputation and their own interest, while being irritated by his superior's "You're a disgraced to the Force" lecture. Peeling through all the partners' private lives keep me continuously guessing, and when I, together with Singh, thought that we'd nailed the killer, another death popped-up, throwing everything back to square one. Suspenseful, and leafing through the pages has never felt so good.

The language is not only simple, but metaphorically a joy to read as well, picturing Singh as an unforgettable character long after I put down the book. Nevertheless, as I've not touched Shamini's books about Singh before, this may just be a first time attraction. I'm afraid it might be predictable if I read another story by her, if the same approach is used. But take nothing away from The Singapore School of Villainy. When suspects are a senior partner just below Mark, a good-looking, harmless, filial lady, a drug addict, two supportive looking "friends," a far-reaching relative, and Mark's current and ex wives, it's a platform for an explosive investigation.

Rating: 4 / 5

Relationship

2011-01-22T19:47:00.004+08:00

I admit. At my first glance at this title, a part of me refused to write about it, and I thought of some excuses that would make my refusal more acceptable. But a stronger part of me reminded myself I'd always been, and will ever be, thriving on challenges. It's a dare, one that I didn't see it coming, not from her at least, and even though I've accepted it, relationship has a broad meaning. It could be that between a mother and a son; a girl and her brother; a boy and his friends or even a student and his teacher.

But no worries. To avoid you punching your own monitor, I am writing that kind of relationship. The kind that drives you up the wall; causes sleepless nights and drowns your pillow, or probably your whole room, with salty tears released straight from the core of your broken heart. Forgive my callousness, but if that kind of relationship is so painful and distressing, why bother to get involved? I mean, it's like running into reinforced concrete wall in front of you. Still you collide with it, heart first.

Inexplicable. Maybe because I have, quite fortunately, no experience at all about this lovey-dovey thingy, and perhaps will never have. My slightest idea of this emotional attraction is formed from watching hours of Hong Kong TVB dramas, romantically lame Hollywood movies, one sweet Taiwanese show and the most practical of all, my knowledge is gained from my friends' awkward encounters, and of course my sis'. Unlike Disney stories, however, most relationships, if not all, that I know have occured to my friends have all gone awry. And some, in fact, are worryingly still awry.

So why bother. Well I need to honestly point out that no matter how illogical it may seem to crash onto that wall, you still do. It is human's nature. You take great risks of having your heart stabbed and turned just to feel the sweetness of loving someone and being loved in return. You want people to think of you before he/she drifts to sleep and still have you in mind when he/she open his/her eyes, because you secretly do the same. You crave for that text asking what you're having for dinner, only to be irritated by some junk messages promising discounts. You long for those three words, only getting 'I am sorry' in return.

Love is a powerful potion. So powerful that I'm about to make my second confession in this article.

I've been beating around the bush, knowing very well that I'm beating hard on your patience. After all, there might be only one reason that you've kept reading this immature point of view till this paragraph. Behold, my readers, here is my confession: Besides my mum and my sis, yes, THERE IS the third lady in my heart. She's the kakak. I'm sorry, that's a very bad joke. Please, in all your sanity, THERE IS a girl but DO NOT believe I have a shocking feel for my maid. NO, I DONT.

But yes, my emotions are not abnormal, not disabled for that matter. So for this very reason, having infatuation over another girl is PERFECTLY normal, it's how I'm created, it's how my heart is programmed by God. I've said it many times before and I'm going to emphasise it once again: the only thing handicapped about me is my physical condition, but not mentally, spiritually and emotionally. Nevertheless, I completely understand that though this is a part of life that I may not enjoy, God is fair enough to give me a loving family, crazy friends, and yes, a helpful kakak (stop laughing).

Now the next big question is WHO IS THE GIRL? The scary notion is that my friends are either very intelligent or very inquisitive. For the brilliant, they could colour a picture even at the hint of a shadow. As for the curious, they possess such strong persuasive power that I'll dread for their questioning the instant I click PUBLISH POST. For this exciting question, however, I'm afraid you will never get the answer. I've not told anyone, not even the first two women in my life, and I do not intend to. EVER. To an extent, it's a bliss to secretly admire someone. And I hope everyone can respect that.

This is as much as I know about relationship. As far as I'm concerned, this is the first, and possibly the last, chapter of my take on relationship. A few days ago I stumbled across an article that clearly, wholeheartedly depicts the depth of a man's heart in love. Sadly, I've not come across a genuine, noteworthy voice from a feminine perception. These are the words I want you to be impressed upon. This a man who has crashed in love. This is what love is all about.

Faster

2011-01-21T11:32:00.001+08:00

After an ambush by a group of rascals who wanted the money robbed by Driver (Dwayne Johnson), his brother and two other person, Driver is jailed as he is the lone survivor from the attack. Released after ten years in prison, he sets out to find and kill those rascals who murdered his brother and the two accomplices before fleeing away with the money.

Meanwhile, Cop (Billy Bob Thornton) is assigned to investigate after Driver walks up to one of his wanted people and shoots him in the head, literally. Tailing this revengeful beast too is Killer (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) who has been hired to wipe out Driver before he reaches the Killer's unknown client.

These three main characters function as how their names suggest. With his raging nature, Dwayne plays out Driver with enough grit and brutality. Although scenes where Driver's tears are required are believable, Dwayne has too big of a body size for us to emphatise with his softer side. I enjoyed, and even had fun, at how he fires a bullet through people's heads, but not how he fakes his teary expression.

As for Cop and Killer, their stories keep the plot with enough substance to let me see through the end of the movie. Cop, a few more days to retirement (which predictably spells doom), is trying hard to be accepted back to his family while his case proceeds with more deaths. On the other hand, Killer, who claims he's beaten yoga, is so adventurous that he turns to assassination to satisfy his hunger for thrill. But he struggles to cope with his wife's plea to stop.

Even if action shots are simplistic and not made with an artistic flavour, the soundtrack that echoes these scenes could do the engaging work. And I'm pleasantly impressed by those rock-n-roll tunes that accompany car chases, particularly when Killer is on the heels of Driver at a night on a highway. Faster is not worth remembering, but just as the songs had exceedingly done a good work in exciting me, Faster contains all required elements to at least mildly entertain viewers for over 90 minutes.

Rating: 3.5 / 5

Myself In 25 Words

2011-01-18T20:56:00.002+08:00

I met you. Wanted to talk, to help, to be your friend. But how to approach you?

I did. And you are different.

Thank God.

First impression is overrated. I'm glad those who are close to me took the first step. I could never go to you. But thank God you all did. The first 25 words are perhaps God's test on those who walk into my life. If you pass that, you'll realise I'm just another person, and you'll share with me memories unlike any other.

Unlike any other......

To My Emo Friends

2011-01-17T20:30:00.004+08:00

This past few days have been emotional for some of my friends. Some cried, others worried, and a few were just plain influenced to let the heart take control. To share the sadness together, we've been recommending emo songs to each other, so as to not let this grief to be felt alone. So I guess I should create a list of the saddest songs that I know, songs that serve as a channel for you to scream your heart out or cry a bucket or two of tears.

My friend said he's God sent. Well yeah, she said it when she's emo:

At this stage, you may wonder whether I'm a big fan of Bruno Mars or that he has issues. Though I'm not sure about the latter, I must say Mars has the edge, in terms of lyrical talent and singing, over another of my favourite artiste - Taylor Swift. Speaking of Swift, her latest album Speak Up doesn't speak volumes to me. I skip to the next song before I finish one. And I keep skipping until I reach this:

Now, you probably have correctly guessed the cause of my friends' emotional turbulence. It's not the end of the world, no one close to them has passed away, and the Petronas Twin Towers have not suffered the same fate as the more famous, taller skyscrapers. It's just that. The world is still spinning, so guys, may this post be the last time you hit that Play button for any of the above songs. LIFE is more than that, and if you keep wallowing yourself in self-pity, you're missing out BIG time. Do I need to give you a tight slap to wake you up?

Meanwhile, if you've had not enough, drug yourself (pump up the volume for this):

Perhaps, if all else fails, you just need God. YES YOU DO:

Guys, actually emo songs have two types - one is the bitter end you're experiencing right now, and the second is on the opposite sweet end. I know songs there, those that can melt your hearts away. Tell me when you're ready. I assure you that you've never heard before, and you'll definitely love it...

The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler

2011-01-16T11:01:00.002+08:00

For the record, The Big Sleep is only the fourth crime fiction that I've read in my life. I'm not a fan of crime novels, but once in a while I do put my hands on them to switch my mind to some mysterious thinking, hoping to boost my creative edge in writing. All four, however, have not impressed me much. Though The Big Sleep left me puzzled till towards the end, humorous and easy to read, I felt at times that Raymond could have jumped to his point a little bit faster.

Nevertheless, this short novel with short sentences said by short-minded characters have substantial thrilling plots to keep me guessing for long. Philip Marlowe, a private investigator, is hired by General Sternwood to get rid of a blackmailer. Marlowe is then told that Sternwood's son-in-law whom the General is deeply fond of has gone missing for weeks, giving rise to suspicion that he is linked to the blackmailing case. But Sternwood quenches the doubt, and emphasises that the investigation is solely to search and shake off the blackmailer

As Marlowe struggles to fend off distractions from two Sternwood daughters, namely Mrs Regan - wife of that lost member, and Carmen, he has to cope with a few murders that pop-out along the line. Intricately complex, the fine storylines are so delicate that I almost lost track of the proceedings. The relations between the characters involved are quite confusing, but close attention would open readers' minds to Raymond's ingenuity. The mystery is well-paced. However, Raymond should have cut down on his description which seems to fog readers and clarify more on the relations involved where the story truly lies.

The narration had also give me a good chuckle. Carmen Sternwood is a spoilt-child and has an immature, crazy attitude towards the people around her. Due to her insanity, encounters between Carmen and Marlowe are always funny. One of those is at a murder scene when Carmen sits on a chair besides a dead body in her birthday suit. Marlowe gives her a few tight slaps to get her dressed, but she's delirious, which means Marlowe has to do the dressing himself. And he does so roughly. Cruel jokes injects interest into dialogues, and drive the story forward.

Even as I pen down this review three days after I finished the book, I still can't flawlessly conjure up the whole story. Not that I would, or want, to write spoilers here, but if I were asked to draw out the plot triangle, I wouldn't have been able to trace the happenings perfectly. It's complicated. And when writers tow this line, that line between intelligence and a mind gone cuckoo is fine and blur. If not on the wrong side, I hope I'm in the middle, as Raymond Chandler is definitely on the right side of the fence.

Rating: 3.5 / 5

My Sister Graduates Today

2011-01-14T00:00:00.009+08:00

Picture taken after my sister graduated from Malaya University

It seems only yesterday when my sis flew to The University of Sheffield (oh how cliched). She's finished another phase of her life, learning to live independently and gaining much experience during this one year stint. She will step up the stage in a few more hours to accept her scroll - a proof that her hard work has produced for her the Masters in Applied Linguistics. Undoubtedly everyone who knows her will be proud. And when she comes back to meet with our relatives during Chinese New Year, praise will surely be showered on her, but more importantly, everyone will be joyfully beaming with pride at her achievement.

Yes white doggie, and yes black piano, your master is coming back. While you must be excitingly waiting to be hugged and played (albeit terribly), I must say that a part of me is fretting. After a year of peaceful harmony, my emotions will be fiercely shaken again by her piano. Perhaps she'll want to announce her arrival to the whole neighbourhood, especially to the expatriate behind who claimed he always loved my sis' performance. Besides, putting my mum and sis together again is another thing to be frightened of. It's like Venus crashing into Mars, even when the cause of any explosive eruption is so trivial that it's laughable. Mind you, that crash could even take place 7000 miles from home. I fear for my silence.

Boy, ain't that family life.

And ain't this house been too quiet for 16 months. The last piece of my family puzzle will be back, and hopefully for all lessons that have galvanised her will to live even more meaningfully, and more cleverly as I'm concerned, her puzzle shape has not changed; has not altered away from the core family values my mum has strictly instilled in her. Because only then will she be able to fit in perfectly, making our family portrait uniquely different and admirably special. Frankly, I think five years ago she wouldn't have thought she would take this route. She was a science student and still was in her pre-university. But God has led her to a path less travelled, and I pray God will continue to guide her to greater heights.

CONGRATULATIONS, SIS

Season Of The Witch

2011-01-13T00:00:00.006+08:00

Turning their backs on the church which they have fought valiantly for, two crusaders - Behmen (Nicolas Cage) and Felson (Ron Perlman) set out on their own and soon reaches a town that is struck by the Black Plague. They find out that a girl accused of practising witchcraft is responsible for the plague. As the crusaders' heroic war victories are well known across the land, the town's cardinal cajoled them to help in escorting the girl to an abbey in Selverac, where she'll stand a fair trial and her fate decided by the monks there.

Together with those crusaders' journey to the abbey are Eckhart - a knight; Debelzeq - a priest; Hagamar - a guide and Kay - an altar boy. More of an adventurous thrill ride than an action-filled film, the travellers have to cross treacherous terrains that are both suspenseful and mystical, made even more mysterious by the girl who incites unrest among them. If the movie is supposed to be a simple, popcorn show that have you clutching at yourself, then Season of the Witch does just that, most notably during the period in Wormwood Forest.

As for the acting, well Cage has been accepting new roles in every three months, and he does so by demanding to see the cheque before he reads the script. He's in need of money, which indirectly makes the movie in need of fine, memorable performance. Perlman (who starred the Hellboy) provides laughable comic relief as Felson, but that too is average. All in all, in spite of the recent shockingly boring tour and a giant who has failed to be big, the surprising finale perhaps rounds up an entertaining Season of the Witch, and will definitely be if you switch your mind off in the cinema.

Rating: 3 / 5

Today My Mum Is 50 Years Old

2011-01-12T00:00:00.003+08:00

As my mum reaches her golden jubilee, she's in UK to attend my sister's graduation ceremony, who has completed her Masters in Applied Linguistic in The University of Sheffield. A few months back, my mum said that after all these years of toil and having spent half of her life within four walls raising her children, she couldn't believe that she would celebrate her 50th birthday on another continent. Thank God, for He is faithful in rewarding His children.

Honestly, I hope those rewards don't end there. After all, a trip around Europe is no match to the seeds that my mum has laboriously planted and grown so far. And those seeds, are me and my sis. We are not the best children ever existed. But she is definitely one of those mums who make a change through making sure her children do so. Years of stern scolding and firm family values have shaped my sister to be a lady whom everyone - friends and relatives included - is proud of. As for me, being healthy enough to write this post with understandable English is already a testament to my mum's commitment in bringing up a disabled child.

But there were times, like any other loving mothers would face, when my mum wondered why her life was so.

The biggest challenge I bring forth to this family is when I fall sick. Well falling sick is an understatement. Because when I do get ill, my health crashes into haywire. I vomit; I cough, my body in pain; my lungs congested, and everything happens in between restless, interrupted sleep. I feel life couldn't any worse. But that, too, is wrong, as the one who has it worst is my mum. I remember there was a time - when I was horribly ill - when my mum questioned why God put me into her life. Was it a retribution to her sins she committed in her life before this? And was I coming back to claim what she'd owed me in the life before?

I don't know. Neither do I know how I could make things better, to be a better son, a son that doesn't make her mum questions her, or even his, existence.

But there was also a time - when I was always closing my eyes - when my mum pushed me on. She whispered she would try everything in her might to make sure I continue living, to see this beautiful world and to taste life a little bit longer. If there was something else she could do prolong my life, she would fight till the end. From the day I was born, till the day I was diagnosed with this incurable disease, there has not been a moment, not even in the most difficult periods, when my mum thinks of giving up. This steely determination born from her love; her love for this family; her love for me.

On this day, I pray God will make me a better son. I pray that I'm not here just to receive from her, but perhaps be able to do something in my mother's favour.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MUM

Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence

2011-01-08T11:31:00.008+08:00

With much respect, Sons and Lovers fulfills every single criteria there is to make it one of the best all-time classics. It's thick; it's well-crafted; it's pushed by conflicting characters; it's set in beautiful backdrop and most importantly it's written by an anti-socialist author. All points toward a memorable tale. However, I must honestly confess that I just can't admire, much less enjoy a story that keeps me asking "Who cares?" Blame my age, or my shallow mind, or even my impatience, but truthfully, Sons and Lovers is one novel I would want to forget. Quickly.

The synopsis at the back cover of the book (Collins Classic Edition) says it all. Within 100 words, you've got the whole idea of this nearly 500 pages novel, without interesting subplots to thrust your mood. Tied by the Oedipal bond Paul Morel has with his mother, he struggles with the relationships he has with Miriam, a religious peer of the same age and Clara, a married woman who is around a decade older than Paul. Cambridge Dictionary Online defines Oedipus as a child's sexual desire for their parent of the opposite sex. There's nothing illicit here, but Paul desperately struggles with his mother's views towards both ladies. Mrs Morel, after the death of the elder son, William, seems to possess Paul completely.

Although the conflicts between Paul and Miriam are lengthily elaborated, Miriam is the only character that could draw my attention and care. Overly worried by what his mother feels, Paul oscillates from being passionately tender for Miriam to being a hateful, selfish, hurtfully uncaring brute. As for Clara whom Mrs Morel is genuinely interested in, well it's only lust that exist between a young adult whose love lies in his chaste friend and a woman who is unsatisfied and disillusioned about her husband. The question that keeps me painfully reading is definitely whether Paul and Miriam will blossom. What will be the ending for the poor lady - a victim of an indecisive man - and for that man himself.

The language, though, is attractive. Lawrence could describe complex emotions and movements with such simple words. More often than not I'd hoped the description was not so tedious and long-winded, but there were times when I would read a good line twice:

"You know," he said, with an effort, "if one person loves, the other does."
"Ah!" she answered. "Like mother said to me when I was little, 'Love begets love'."
"Yes, something like that. I think it must be."
"I hope so, because, if it were not, love might be a very terrible thing," she said.

- Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence, Collins Classics, page 192 and 193

I understand that this novel was penned in the early 1900s and folks had plenty of time to slowly immerse themselves and imagine settings created by these words. It must have given them the much needed entertainment to distract them from on going wars and strikes. But pity this boy who is born almost a century later. At an era when multitasking is routine, any story written must be engaging and continue to be so throughout the entire tale. To my irk, I could have lost track from pages of words if not for my suppressed urge to throw this book aside.

At the end of the mentioned synopsis, it's written, "... Lawrence expertly crafts a timeless and universal story of family, love and the relationships that define us." Well, he'd forgotten technology and its subsequent fast-paced lifestyle before he wrote a book that's at least a quarter too long.

Rating: 2 / 5

On That Sunny, Friday Aftermoon

2010-12-31T11:13:00.003+08:00

After he became one of St. John's top STPM students of 2009, Issac was invited to share his views in a Christian Fellowship (CF) meeting. If I'm not mistaken, it coincided with the Lower Sixers first meeting as well, making ice-breaking a necessary activity. Being boisterous (like how my CF Teacher wrote about me in my Black Book), I introduced myself as a USELESS AJK. Now that's a fact, though somebody might disagree. Later on the session was led by Issac. Obviously his purpose was to encourage us to lean on God like how he did to achieve the best. But more than that, it's two questions he asked that still, and probably will ever, bother me...

"What do you think it's impossible?"

I don't know what made me so funny on that day, but I answered, "To divorce my wife - this wheelchair." I thought I was witty, but then a junior said to answer that we must first ask him what is POSSIBLE. And we did. So he said nothing. NOTHING is possible in his life. Great... Then I think a few said getting 4-flat was impossible and a couple said losing weight was deemed against the odds. But I can't remember the others. Surprisingly, for Issac's second question, I can still picture each and every answer vividly in my mind. It was one of those cues for reflections; alluding the true voice to speak from the depths of our hearts.

"What do you think it's impossible, but you really, really, REALLY want it to happen?"

Immediately after he posed that question, Issac said, "So James, I think for you is to divorce your wife." Instinctively, I replied that I may have a different answer. A minute was given for us to think; to search deep within ourselves to find was beyond reality, yet still eagerly hoping that somehow fantasy was just a veil to be easily lifted. One by one we opened our hearts. I don't know what made those two questions different, but really wanting it to happen changed the we way perceived impossibility. Perhaps the first was general, influenced by how and what the world defined as impossible. But the second was more personal, more on what we truly wanted rather than what the world wanted for us.

So what did I say? Well it's something that even by law, it's impossible. To keep any slim chances of it happening, I'm not writing it here. I'm not even sharing what my friends spoke, for it's figuratively a piece of their hearts. But I just want highlight that I've been enlightened from then on. Answering those questions honestly has awaken me up from just living life - to living life to God's purpose; focusing on the ones I love and taking every opportunity to inspire. That they may one day realise that I'm just a reflector of His light is what fuels my passion; is what ignites my being, my dream for the impossible.

What is impossible, but you REALLY want it to happen?

PS: To Alie, Ann and Kevin, if you do remember what I said, I have a feel that it's going to happen. Maybe not in my lifetime (anyway my life is short). But still, my heart says it will. The truth has already been revealed, Alie, if you know what I mean. So let's continue, praying.

For 7.59 Million We Dreamed

2010-12-31T11:11:00.004+08:00

I don't know why I have not written a word about this. After all, if there's anything serious about U6A1 that's worth remembering, this particular dream - or a wasted proposal to be precise, is definitely one of them. Pat, Hadi, Alie, Ann and I joined an entrepreneurship program that required us to prepare a business proposal that could solve any social ills. To solve truancy was our aim. To place cybercafes in schools was our plan. And 7.59 million was, in the long run (at least 10 years in Business terms), our calculated maximum profit under favourable conditions.

For a few weeks towards the end of Lower Six, that plan occupied our minds. We drafted our ideas to the very detail our Business and Economics knowledge allowed. From operating hours to the cafe's management; from maximum cost to minimum revenue; from students' interest to a new education system altogether, we thought, too naively you may think, about realising our dreams of making cybercafes as common as canteens were in schools. Honestly, I thought that was it. If everything went well, we could be on our way to Time's cover page - or at least, The Star's main news for a start.

So under sweating, Tropical afternoon heat with only a poor ceiling fan to cool us down, we discussed, we talked and dreamed. We made the necessary assumptions for our proposal to work out. We even listed the challenges that we might face in operating the cafes, including the answers to some doubts we would receive. After all serious points were thoroughly gone through, we let our minds wander for awhile. If I had 7.59 million, the first thing I would do was to prepare my speech, for I would be invited to share my experience. Pat would get a Ferrari and be married. Hadi would screw STPM, forgetting the period required to actually achieve that figure. And the girls, well, 7.59 million was too much to comprehend.

Then all shattered, unfortunately, by misconception. We presented our ideas to our Economics teacher to get her opinion. And opinion she gave, all but encouraging. She said our drafts were not sufficiently researched to be a proper proposal. She pointed out that we'd neglected cash flow and etc. The misunderstanding occured that although we had to write a proposal, there's actually a maximum limit of 15 pages, but Ms Low thought it was 50, at least. Yet when she found out at the end of her blast, we're simply too tired to respond, mentally exhausted. Finally, we pulled out from the competition, licking our injured pride, and realising that dreams could rocket us to the Moon, but could sweep us down in an equally rapid plunge.

"If one dream should fall and break into a thousand pieces, never be afraid to pick one of those pieces up and begin again." Flavia Weedn

PS: To Hadi, Pat, Alie and Ann, I enjoyed the sweltering discussions we had. Maybe God was saying that it was just too soon. So if any of you suddenly feels the urge to do radical stuff, or that God has appeared in your dream, give me a call. THE DRAFTS ARE STILL WITH ME.

Christmas Celebration

2010-12-27T18:07:00.002+08:00

On Christmas' Eve, my family and I went up to Penang for two days. My dad had to attend his friend's wedding dinner and so me, my mum and my maid just tagged along to Equatorial Hotel. I think I've not had such a long road journey for quite some time now that sitting in a car for more than four hours was honestly a labour - testing my patience and my boredom limits. Just imagine lying down in a car with green trees on your left and right and clear blue skies up front accompanying your view all the way. Insanity was really threatening.

I even whined that we need to use AirAsia next time for domestic travelling.

But enough of my rant. Time for some criticism of Equatorial Hotel. The loos for the disabled were just a bigger cubicle in the respective gender's washroom, instead of another single toilet like in shopping malls. Maybe the architect thought that all disabled could still manage themselves. Although that's forcefully acceptable for me, pasting the wheelchair symbol on the allocated cubicle was puzzling. There's a step down going into the toilet and the door itself was springed. So even if a wheelchair-bound managed to enter, how to exit? Assumed that the handicapped didn't need help in there, how could he/she wheelie the wheelchair up the step and out the toilet alone?

It's not about being wheelchair-friendly. It's about not being stupid, especially from an architect of a 5-star hotel.

To quickly summarise my trip up north, take a deep breath and read: Started the journey at 10 am and reached the hotel at 3:30 pm (all hours spent looking green and blue things). Once checked-in, I rested in the room while my parents went for some local delicacies and to buy the famous Ghee Hiang's tau sar biscuits. Me and my mum had our dinner at around 7 at Coffee Garden Restaurant in the hotel while my dad attended the said function. Retired to bed at 11, had a miserable night missing my own bed back home, woke up at 8, checked-out at 8:30, had porridge and chee cheong fun as my breakfast in the car then finally another 4 hours of looking at green and blue things.

Reached home at the same time as I arrived in Penang, slept for a couple of hours and it's time for Christmas' Dinner at my uncle's house.

My uncle's daughter who's pursuing her degree in psychology in Sydney came back for her holidays, bringing along a Mexican friend named Francisco. He was very much the focus on that night as he talked to nearly everyone, including me, during the pot luck dinner. According to him, he's been following his flatmates back to their own countries to learn new cultures and meet different people. Certainly adventurous, and his hunger to know more was evident as he's willing to gain knowledge and experiences from strangers, even from a strange-looking stranger like me. That kind of life is surely interesting, and I am just a tiny, little piece to a huge, life puzzle he is assembling.

Now I must say that gatherings with this group of relatives have always been some sort of an intellectual discourse. There are PhD holders and a few retired lecturers within this circle. So talking points are very substantial. If one has read a good book, the person will startle in joy once the book title or the author is spoken, with excitement similar to that of a lottery winner. And I'm not exaggerating. Of course part of the euphoria is attributed to glasses of wine, but mostly it's driven by how important knowledge is in this family. Even by a slightest margin, I hope I'm influenced to keep striving. Perhaps I already am.

Have A Little Faith by Mitch Albom

2010-12-26T17:45:00.007+08:00

Having similarities to the style of Mitch Albom's best-selling memoir, Tuesdays With Morrie, comparison between that and this latest masterpiece is inevitable. Have A Little Faith may lack the depth of the lessons conveyed in the memoir, but still it triumphs in telling a true story of hope and faith. Written in a lightly suspenseful way, readers are revealed to a life spiraling down and to another life, literally, ascending above. Each page turned is like uncovering the true powers of faith - where it can light even the most bitter times and calm even in the face of death.

In the beginning, there was a question. Mitch was asked by his ailing rabbi to deliver his eulogy - a formal speech about a person who has passed away. He had been so caught up with his career that he lost track with his religious duties and stopped talking to the rabbi, Albert Lewis. Hence Mitch was initially puzzled as to why he was chosen since he had only been around the rabbi during his childhood and adolescence. Nevertheless, he accepted the request and was set out to find out more about this Man of God.

Sessions with Albert, from the comfort his house when the rabbi was still well to the eerie silence of the hospital when he had strokes, were very much similar to Tuesdays With Morrie. Mitch had a chance to learn from a person who was willing to share. Unlike the former, though, which offers general insights on life, Have A Little Faith revolves around the Creator, the faith that a Creator exists, the creations, the want to destroy those creations and above all, what lies ahead in the afterlife. Not at all philosophical or deeply theological, the simple lessons are catered to those who wonder what lives and why.

In the beginning, there was another question. Henry Covington was hiding behind a trash bin with a gun in his hand asking, "Would you save me, Jesus?" Here, we are told of how a boy raised in a strong Christian background ran away from God. We are told how Henry entered the prison for a murder he did not commit, what he promised, got out, committed serious offenses like theft and drug dealing and how Henry kept running further the more he knew that God was talking to him. That was a life plummeting down. This is a story we can all relate in one way or another. And this - the saddest, darkest moments of life - is where faith works its wonders.

Apart from the anticipated eulogy as a finale, the tale of Henry is what I think grips the readers. Most of us are interested to know how a God who allows evil to exist would use exactly that as a platform for hope to spark, always, brighter than we would expect. Though the eulogy was just a recap of what was written earlier in the book, the fact that Mitch had to brace himself for the rabbi's impending death by delaying to write that eulogy provides a slight thrill to readers; something else - other than death - to look forward to. Mitch has done it again, knotting the strings of our hearts.

Rating: 4 / 5

Christmas Party 18/12/10

2010-12-22T11:08:00.001+08:00

A Blessed Christmas to everyone

I actually planned the event last Saturday as a pot luck party for my class, where we'd just be having a small gathering at my house. But it turned out - thank God and my mum - to be a Christmas Party, the kind which had turkey and macaroni and plenty more as feast, like the traditional western Thanksgiving Dinner. Personally it was a blissfully joyous occasion for me. Nothing much happened apart from a few rounds of Monopoly, a few lines of live Facebook reporting and a few moments of wild boars amusement. But I guess it was these simple activities that freed us from complicated thoughts we've had for a long time.

Though the rest would beg to differ that nothing much had happened. Plenty had. In fact, for three glorious times, they'd successfully made me a loser. Academically pushed for one-and-a-half years, perhaps all were so eager to topple me down that they found immense satisfaction for winning against me in Monopoly thrice. Such great fun, they had, in seeing me losing even after owning 12 hotels. Even luck was on their side as Mun picked up the jackpot of $1600 from the free parking (it's my house rule that any taxes imposed will be put on free parking). Considering only $200 are given every time a person passes GO and the most expensive property to be around $300, $1600 already means victory.

Then at around 7:30 pm, they went out to witness - for the first time in their lives - wild boars. Up the hill of Taman TAR is a jungle where monkeys, boars and snakes are a common sight. You can call it a mini zoo, with daily, evening appearances of these creatures to fascinate visitors. I didn't follow them there, but looking back at the pictures taken and their grinning faces then, I sensed that they were totally drawn in by babis. And I mean TOTALLY as a couple of them couldn't care less about their hand phones which were left at my house. Still, they didn't see any monkeys, which according to my mum appear earlier than those boars. It's an organised zoo. It has an efficient time shifts. So save it for the next time, if there's next...

As for the food, it was fulfilling, like the fellowship we had. Simple games made us laugh. Simple jokes made us laugh harder. But it was the people who were there that brightened up my house like a star on fire. Even my parents were lit up. So I would like to thank each and everyone one of you who shared your joy on that wonderful evening. Special thanks to Pat who brought the delicious curry chicken and Hadi for your cakes and camera (pictures taken are all that's left). At 11, after 8 hours, I'd enjoyed every moment of it, including the moment my car token landed on Oxford Street (or somewhere there). I hope we'll have a chance again. As for now, the white, lovable dog sits quietly on the stair rail, looking out the window, waiting for people to toss it, hug it and play with it again...

In all fairness, the dog isn't expecting any more alien visitors, but anticipating the arrival of its true master

Tron: Legacy

2010-12-20T11:20:00.004+08:00

Sequel to the 1982 original Tron, the one major improvement that the same director has done is obviously the computer effects. And with Jeff Bridges reprising his role as Kevin Flynn, creator of The Grid - a virtual reality cyberspace, this installment has just been best summarised. CGI effects and the actors play are commendable, but the draggy plot could not stop one from arguing that this idea - changing the world through the computer's realm - should have, and easily could have, been more cleverly and daringly written.

After missing for decades, Kevin sends a page to his assistant, Alan Bradley - also starred by the original Bruce Boxleitner. Finding a clue about the page that was sent from Kevin's office at an arcade, his son Sam found himself transported to The Grid which his dad had famously created. Once there, the spectacular effects would thrill any 3D lovers or even those who watch it a dimension less. The disc-throwing tournament and the subsequent match between Clu and Sam are simply breathtaking. That is point when this movie captivates and looks promising.

Then somehow everything just collapses when they should have fallen perfectly into places. Although it is a sequel, director Joseph Kosinski has said that those who've never heard about Tron would still be able grasp the idea. Perhaps it is trying to gain our understanding that makes us lose it. I think any who has not done homework about this computerised story would have a hard time following the plot. That is why the reason Kevin was trapped, how and why Clu seized control of The Grid and how Sam is going back to his real world with his father, are all best left uncared for.

Having said that, I must point out that Michael Sheen has executed Castor so brilliantly well. My goodness, I love his gayness, and how he actually lifts the mood of the show at a very dull moment of the story. Besides, Olivia Wilde who assists Kevin in The Grid as Quorra (pronouns as Cora) is also watchable, more so if she has taken any part in any disc-throwing games. For the record, this is the first movie that I would suggest to enjoy it in 3D. Forget about the storyline. Marvel at the effects, be tuned-in by scores of Daft Punk and just go nuts with Castor.

Rating: 3 / 5

Outing 16/12/10

2010-12-18T11:21:00.000+08:00

Clockwise from left: Siew Li, Alie, Mun, Who Else and Pat

Alison Wok Li Jin must be the happiest person on Earth that day. Never did she imagine that her friends would get her a Christmas Tree she'd said she liked it before. With the tree wrapped in a huge, rectangular box and presented with a surprise, that outing was simply different, not just to her but to me as well. I, too, was given a present, but not with a surprise. For some reasons, I was told earlier about their plans. And when I got to know that they had bought the tree for her, I knew that this outing was going to be special, and an unforgettable one for all of us.

Alie, smiling like a kid

However special, though, filthy smell spoiled the day. We went to Pavilion, and yes, we watched a movie. Those who have followed me to Pavilion's GSC know exactly where I'm heading to right now. But this gang had not. So on that raining day, when they knew that they're going to use a lift to go up the cinema, they were all pretty excited. "Wah James, I've never used the lift here before..." "Wah, VIP treatment!" Boy oh boy, once they stepped into the service lift, cold water just rained on them. Shocked, stunned or whatever, they realised why I detest Pavilion's GSC. Mind you, the smell was worse than any other times I'd been there.

A bike from Tron, no idea what it's called

The stench was quickly joked away as we waited for Tron: Legacy to roll. For CGI effects, the movie is a marvel and if it's viewed in 3D - which was not by us - Tron would be a thrill ride, awesomeness if you like. Sadly, the idea was put into the hands of very uncreative, intimidated writers. But that's a post for another time. After the show, it was time to be victims of the horror movie lift again. I told them to use the escalator, but being the kind of friends they were, they accompanied me down. As if awakened by a breath of fresh air once we got out, Patrick got an ingenious thought. What if we don't buy tickets and creep in using the lift? Nobody knows! And nobody checks!

Now that, my friends, is a CRAZY idea for another CRAZY day.

Ade and Alie

Then it was time for lunch. Apart from a box of fries that was mysteriously delivered when nobody had ordered, and the surprise that was planned, nothing more happened in Carl's Juniors. Talking about surprises, which was our Activity Of The Day, me and Sze Sern had one even before we watched Tron. We asked Ade to go for treasure hunting, finding us and her subsequent prize. Her birthday was right before STPM, so we just wanted to have fun with her. But Ade was actually one of those who planned for Alie's surprise. So it was crossed-surprising, led by our very own Phang Sze Sern (we call him PS2).

PS2

If I had to choose a happiest guy on this outing, it's got to be you, Sze Sern. I salute you, I really do. You made everyone so indescribably happy. Thank you so much, Ah Phang. Though you've been saying that it's a small matter, your heart is BIG, dude. And I know there's nothing better than having those around you beaming with joy. Then the second happiest guy is obviously me. My present is a medal - the Best Friend Award. If this award had existed, I must say I wouldn't have been good enough even to be nominated. But perhaps when I look at it in the future, I'll be reminded that those who've walked into my life in the last 18 months are, indeed, MY best friends...

I miss you. I love you. And I pray God always keeps an eye on you...

It Is FINISHED

2010-12-14T18:30:00.005+08:00

NOW is the time to let emotions run WILD

Unlike previous evenings when I had been caught under the rain and stuck in a crawling jam after I finished my evening papers, yesterday was pleasant. 14 December 2010 was the day I sat for my final paper of STPM, and at the stroke of 6:30 pm, the final chapter of my Form 6 life reached its end. The skies were clear and the traffic was smooth. If there's anything to go by, God must be saying, "My son, you've done well. You've fought hard. So cast to me, and I will make a way."

The obvious question that's in your mind right now is how did I fare. Boldly I can say that I'm humbly confident. I gave all out and there's nothing better that I could have done. Most importantly my health was in a perfect state throughout this exam month, which was a complete opposite to what I'd faced during SPM when my lungs were quite terrible. So thank God for keeping me safe and sound and at my very best. If it will be flat, then all glory to Him. But if it'll be a repeat of that twist I endured in March 2009, I will have no regrets. Simply because making to this stage is already a gift from God; a miracle by itself.

It's "Me" Again

2010-11-19T18:59:00.000+08:00

Good day Mr James! Well it's been a long time since I - Mr Me - made my first appearance here in your blog. Man I think I'm popular. You know many readers liked that post! 2 people! (That's many anyway) Alright now I should cut my crap and cut to the point and cut my nails and.... well, let's see. What's going on here? Oh, you've put a Countdown Timer. 3 days it says. Wait. 3 DAYS!!! It's freaking 3 DAYS Mr James!!!

Now time's running out, boy. But I know if you had to sit for it now, you would be more than happy to start rocking. Let me tell you, boy. The war has already started. And the battle you're in now is against the most lethal, cunning and fatal enemies - Complacency and Overconfidence. Complacency is firing its Boredom Arrow to tire you out and stop you from picking up your sword. While Overconfidence is telling you that the war has already been won, and that the only thing you should worry is now your victory speech.

But thank God for putting sense in you. Thank God that you're awake enough to hold your shield; to cover yourself with humility and the necessary fear to pull you back down to reality. And thank God (pay more tithes this weekend) that 3 faithful knights are at your flanks, waiting to charge; waiting to go Onward to Victory.

Look at your left, Mr James. Knight of Strength is pledging to you. He's vowing to boost your physical stamina by maintaining your deep, uninterrupted sleep. Strength's ability will keep your endurance level high, so that you will fight till the last drop of blood is shed.

Turn to your right, Mr James. Knight of Aim is pledging to you. His eyes are dead set on one and only one target. He's whispering at your ears, so that his words will overwhelm the voice of Overconfidence. But more importantly, Aim is telling you to focus on that and nothing else.

Then look behind you, Mr James. Knight of Faith is pledging to you. He wants you to look beyond; to suppress your fear, and to blindfold yourself and plunge ahead. Faith is aligning your spirit, so that you will remember to always count on the Lord in Heaven.

Above all, Mr James, look in front. Don't let lost battles cool your fiery will. Don't succumb to past failures. And don't, ever, rely on yourself. You may or may not win. Perhaps things will turn out like they did two years ago. But God is with you, brother. Look in front. Look at the sun bursting through the horizon. And look, your soldiers are ready to win; for they possess not the power of men, but the light of angels.

My friend, Mr. Me wishes you all the best. Now get back sharpening your sword while I go and cut my nails...