Coming up short.

It isn't the pill of defeat that I find hard to swallow. Defeat is an essential part to bigger things, a stepping stone towards victory and success. Defeat gives us the chance to reevaluate our actions and tweak on our attitudes to improve. I'm not a sore loser, I know that winning isn't everything and that failure isn't final. No..... it's a feeling I can't quiet bring myself to explain at first. After an afternoon of pondering and questioning, I finally sniffed out the root of all those negative thoughts.

Losing my opportunity.

 

I couldn't care less for the glamor of winning or the proud faces I could make that comes with winning. No, I was feeling all negative about it because I had lost a good opportunity, no, a great one in fact. If I had qualified, I could have gone for a wonderful trip destination- Langkawi to bring my athletic prowess to the next level, a level that I've been yearning for. If only I had pumped that last leg of the race, if only i had pushed myself a little more, if only I had been defiant when that runner took my from behind. Oh gosh, when can I replace all these 'if's' with reality?    

I'm usually an optimistic person, always looking on the bright side of things, drawing positives from the negatives and striding towards difficulty with a goofy smile on my face. But today, that side of me has been given a pretty good beating. Not only had I let my coach down, I've let myself down too. That's the flipside when it comes to setting goals, and motivating yourself with them. When they don't turn out, you'll take a punch straight in the ambitious side of your brain. A punch that'll warn you not to step up again and stay down where you are.

And it pains me even further when I see quite a number of my friends qualify for the race. Don't get me wrong, I genuinely feel happy for them and their achievements, they've made our school proud. But their victory begs the question in my conscious that constantly asks :" When are you going to be like them? When are you gonna do something amazing?" A very demoralizing question indeed, but it's still there, and I can't ignore the reality of it. I hate sitting at home, goofing around while they have the time of their lives, time I could be spending as well.

I love running, it bonds me with my skinny legs, the wind in your face, the asphalt and dirt beneath your feet, the feeling that I derive from it is just amazing. I don't plan on slowing down or giving up, but maybe it's time I analyzed this from a different angle. Even the brightest stars run out of gas sometime in their lives, I feel outta steam right now, loss for enthusiasm. Some time to recuperate my sensse will do me good.

Where I used to be is where I want to be.

These streets used to be my ultimate playground, where my gimmicks and antics were only limited by my imagination. I could be anything I ever wanted to be, all it took was a slight effort of my mind, and I'd be off wandering astray for hours on end. Mom would have to come out of the house every evening and yell at me to come inside for dinner. Ah yes, these were the times long forgotten, and yet, strangely enough, these were the times that I missed the most when life grew tough.

Every evening, I would arrive home from school around 4 in the evening and quickly give myself a shower. I couldn't wait to get outside and spend my entire evening frolicking with my friends, friends of which are now long gone, lost under the curse of miscommunication and awkwardness. We'd spend our evenings playing anything under the sun, from basketball to an imaginary game of adventure under the drizzling rain. Sometimes, we'd even take our bikes out and speed down the slope outside of our houses. Wind whipping across our faces, it was a time of bliss, where my only worries was whether or not I had homework that needed doing.

The festive season brought even more joy for me. This was the time when I'd be able to take my adventure and playtime to the next level, and where I'd be able to participate in games where our numbers could easily reach over 20. We would meet in the same house every single Chinese New Year, and have these awesome parties where the adults would entertain themselves and we'd have this HUGE street all to ourselves. And that's where we went wild and got ourselves hurt.

We'd scraped our knees, we'd get burned by fireworks, we'd stepped ankle-deep in dog crap, we'd break our arms and noses, but most importantly, we'd have fun, clean and pure fun. The kind of fun where no one felt insulted and no one got hurt, the kind of fun where everybody was welcomed, even if you were the new kid on the block. The kind of fun I want to experience again. As children, we were our true selves, no social masks, no pretending, just us and a butt-load of memories.

But then, this terrible thing happened. It was as if we all slowly morphed into something completely different. Gradually, we stopped playing those fun games we used to play, we grew boring. And by golly, I realized the same thing was happening to me, I let my true self go, under all that peer pressure and social drama, I forgot who I truly was, who I was meant to be. We started putting up barriers and masks that weren't our true selves, they were what society wanted us to be.

In high school, my dilemma only got worse, the friends I made there were so fickle that sometimes I'd forget their names entirely after we changed classes the next year. Of course, there were the exceptional few that stood by me through tough times, the people that I'm proud to call my friends. Still, I never truly had fun after that, it's like we all forgot how to enjoy ourselves, how to just put down our worries and just let it be. Was this all part of growing up? Was I doomed to feel this way forever? And that's when I discovered that my true happiness didn't come from out there, it lies within.

Yea, yea, I know it sounds mighty corny and all but when you take the time to ponder about it, isn't happiness just a feeling after all? And feelings come from us. With that in mind, I know I'll have fun this year, just a different kind. Even so, with everything said and done, there's nothing in the whole wide world that could replace what I felt as a child. My life was truly authentic in every sense of the world, and I hope that my life can return to what it used to be. Happy in all it's glory!

And with that, I can honestly say, if there's one thing that I want from a magical genie in a lamp, it'll be my childhood, care-free in all it's splendor.

Bite me!

There I was, deep in the hostile territory , dressed in my striking blue uniform, with shiny badges that shone under the morning sun. My bright blue tie only helped advertise my presence, only a pure dimwit would miss me. I stood out like a sore thumb. Little did I know that it wasn't my thumb that was going to be more than just sore. I felt like a veteran, trained and hardened by the best of the best, eyes peered down into a line so thin down to a line that I'd put Chinese from China to shame.

I was on a mission.

It was like playing hardcore hide-and-seek, only I was looking for prey , only the stakes are much much higher, where emotions tense up so badly you'd do some crazy things if you lost, some very crazy, unorthodox things. Sweeping across the area, I met gazes with the people, trying to spot the guilty amongst the innocent is harder than it looks. It was like trying to spot an ant amongst grass, long, brown reddish grass that drifted along with the wind. But sometimes those ants grow so big, it'd be impossible to miss, even if you wanted to.

And there! I spotted it, the panic in it's eyes made it stick out so badly, I had to put it down! It was my job, one I have been trained and trusted to do. I tried to ask nicely at first, but it started to rebel, battering me with endless questions. And so, I was forced to resolve the problem by force, wrangling and strangling with it, using my superior power and height to grab the goods. But then, in it's last ditch of desperation, it resolved to it's last and most secretive attacks, one so potent and poisonous that I nearly lost my wits.

It bit me, hard.
Strangely enough, I'd like to thank you for that.

It's not as bad as one would think really, I mean initially yea, I had to visit the medical quarters to have my wound properly sterilized and was given a jab on the shoulder to fend off the deadly poison in it's bite. But everything went uphill from there. I received unless praise from my commanding officers, telling me that I did a good job and that I had done what's right. I felt that nudge or warmness inside, that I didn't give in to corruption and took the easy way out, where my fingers would remain intact and I wouldn't have to go to all the trouble.

But what really made this incident worth all it's fuss, is strangely not the praise, nor the recognition that I got from my superiors.

It's the laughter.
Pure and unfiltered laughter.

Anyone that was human who heard about my little incident would give a positive response. It ranged from slight giggles to bellowing screams of joy and excitement. For the past week, everyone who heard about the incident laughed, absolutely everyone! It brings me a deep sense of fulfillment to know that I brightened up someone's day, even if it was a little chuckle. In a world where people are brought down by the smallest things everyday, I'm glad that I made that handful laugh, heartily, even it lasted for that one second.

If 100 people laughed for every finger of mine that was bitten, i'd give them my other nine :D
That way, I don't have to do any homework, and people would serve me like I'm a cripple.

Losing part of the team.

Plunking down my Biology textbooks, I lazily pulled up a lab chair and sat myself down. While waiting for my other classmates to arrive, I flipped open some of my notes and tried to make sense of the human circulatory system in all it's complicated splendour. After what felt like 2 minutes, I was given a light tap on my shoulder. Usually, my pals would just shove or slap me in the back as a sign of greeting, so I knew this was someone else. It was Samantha, with a casual jerk of her thumb, she said :

"Hey, did you know that Adeline's crying?"
"Where?!" I snapped.
"At the pejabat, I guess."

Without another word, I immediately stormed out of the class in a hurried walk, my arms flinging up and down like a robot as I went. Mr. Lxx, our discipline teacher asked me where she was before, it didn't take a genius to piece the situation before me. In my hurried stride to the school's office, I tried to piece together the possibilities. Right past the canteen, I spotted LY, one of our fellow prefects, and decided to ask her if she knew what's happening. She knew.

Worried for our fellow comrade, both of us headed in the office to see if there was anything we could do for her. Once there, I immediately cast my gaze at Mr. Lxx's room, it was locked. Knowing there was nothing much to do for now, I decided to listen to LY as she explained what happened to our dear friend. It was one hard pill to swallow, if I wasn't standing right there in front of the office, staring at Mr.Lok's locked front door, I wouldn't believe it myself.

Dear Adeline,
Do you remember the second day of our training camp last year? Yes, that camp where I cried myself silly. It was that activity where Hafiz placed those stack of papers in the middle of room and we failed horribly and I was punished. While I was down there, doing those push-up's for you guys, I could make out the faces of the others. Some of them were laughing, amusing themselves as my tears and sweat dripped freely on the ground from all those push-ups and Hafiz's horrendous yelling.

My emotions reached the breaking point that day, I was ashamed for crying in front of many of people, I literally lost all my pride. Most people made fun of it in their hearts, the sight of me crying wasn't one you'd see everyday. Honestly, I'd laugh at a 16-year old crying like a baby too. But there was this sole girl that cried for us, for me and Deanna, who sacrificed for the whole team. Then and there, I realized that my efforts didn't go to waste, that at least, all those push-up's got to somebody. It was you.

Dear Adeline,
No words could possibly describe what sort of feelings you went through that day. I wish I could tell you that I knew you felt, but no, I doubt anyone could take an emotional hit like that and still walk with pride and glory the way you did. To have 4 years of hardwork and effort all go down the drain all because of a slight slip of the tongue, a slight slip that led you falling off that tower you've built for the past 4 years with all your brain juices and sweat.

Such strength that you have is what makes me baffled, even after a hit like that, you were still able to laugh and joke about what you did, like everything was alright, even when you knew they weren't. Telling it calmly and smoothly, narrating to your friends about what happened in a manner that I could never pull off. If I were you at that moment, I'd break down and cry like I've lost my genitals.

Dear Adeline,
I believe I speak for most of the team when I say we will miss your presence dearly. You were that jug of iced water that kept everything cool when crisis was at stake, coming up with rational solutions when we needed it most. You were the voice that sounded out what the rest of the team was afraid to say, and that itself, steered our team clear of bigger problems, even if you had to take a hit yourself.

I will miss you Adeline ( as a Prefect, jangan salah faham arh! xD ). I will miss that sense of security knowing that you'll handle a block properly, even though it's filled with the most stubborn of students. I will miss that voice who speaks words of truth, even if none of us wanted to hear it. And most importantly, I will miss that ONE prefect who danced with me when jivvy indian music played in the background.

And so here I stand, in salute! No fret though, the death of one comrade could possibly mean a new beginning for both parties. Until then, cheers!

Walking The Dog.

On a normal school day, I'd peel myself off the bed at 5.50 sharp to the sounds of both my blaring alarm clock and musically Indian-themed phone alarm. By 6.00, I'd have taken my morning shower and be headed downstairs to turn on the lights in my living room. The very next thing I'd do is pry open the thick wooden doors that secure my home. Every morning, without fail, I'd see Kilo right outside the door staring in disappointment at the sight of me.

Now, such disappointment is clearly not the work of my actions. He doesn't hate me. In fact, I'd say he quiet adores me. It's because he's always expecting someone else. Because my father walks him in the morning, Kilo always looks forward to the sight of my dad shambling down the stairs, one leg at a time. His anticipation sky high as he awaits his morning walk. He seemed to disdainfully cast aside the fact I was there, even when I was staring him in the face.

Such was my quirky habits as I prep myself for school every morning, a bit of melodramatic rejection to start off the day I suppose. After gobbling up my daily serving of bread and Milo, I'd head outside to sit on a conveniently placed ceramic elephant and await my transportation. Even after all this time, Kilo would still be staring right through the door, neighing occasionally at the absence of my father. If I was lucky, my father would come down before I left. At the sight of dad, Kilo would go berserk, jumping around and whining uncontrollably, like an eager child awaiting his treat of candy. I'd laugh in amusement.

After a rough day of do-witty at school, I'd usually return with a rm 6.50 cab fare. The sound of the slamming car door would shock Kilo out of his nap, as he looks up in alarm, the look on his face suggests that there was something that needed barking at. The second the spotted me, he's pricked ears would immediately slop down followed by a rhythmic shaking of his tail. As soon as I entered the door, he'd start his morning routine all over again, as if I was dad, jumping and frolicking like a beast being released from it's cage.

For all the fuss that I have to go through, walking Kilo is more than what it seems. When I was younger, leashing him out for a short 300 metre walk around the curb of our street seemed like a daunting chore that I had to slave over everyday. But as the years progressed, it grew into more of a liking, something that I would be glad to do. You'd think that walking a hunking 50 pound rabid ball of fur would be horrendous, would you? Don't worry, I felt like that too, the dragging that he did used to give me aches on my shoulders.

I grew to enjoy our walks more and more, doing it almost everyday. Walking with him gives me a sense of escape, escape from the many mind-numbing routines of study and training. To this day, I've walked him so frequently and so many times, that I know exactly where he'd place his excretions, which tree and which pole he'd pee on and his favorite spots for bowel movement.

And no, studying the excretion habits of my dog isn't gross, it's observant. Right, Kilo?

Up high in the Highlands ( part 3 )

It was an unpleasant experience to say the least. The biting cold that bit us every morning while we ran down the slopes of Cameron's. The aches and sores that inevitably came with such rigorous training. The heavy eyebags and drastic lack of sleep that made all our tasks that much more daunting. All these took a heavy toll on all of us, I could feel it rippling amongst us, that wave of negative energy that comes with hard training.

Our thresholds were being tested.

But something kept us going on. At first, I couldn't quiet put my tongue on it, it was surreal, like an ingredient you couldn't identify in a delicious dish. There was this... magic ingredient that kept us going on, that kept us fighting, even when all those gruelling workouts and injuries took a heavy toll on our spirits. It truly baffled me to see the pure determination and guts that some of us had. It was as if nothing could stop the momentum of our team, not cold, not wind, not rain, not pain.

As the days treaded on, I slowly what that magical invisible ingredient was. That magical ingredient that held all of us together, when everything else wants us to crumble and fall down right where we stand. It was him, I was certain of it. It was him that united each and everyone of us with his strength and reassurance. He made everything so much more bearable for us, in fact, training up in the Highlands felt easy when he was with us.

It was Sir.

Every night, he'd sit us down and hold a meeting with us. It was a small room, barely enough to hold all of us in. We had to sit cross-legged on the ground and shuffle around with the people next to us. Normally, I'd consider this torturing, but through some mystical arcane magic, Sir was able to grab so much of my attention and focusing it on bigger things that all these petty things didn't seem to matter at all. He gave us all something to focus on, something to look forward to, something to be happy about.

Even after weeks after coming back from the Highlands, I can still feel his influence on all of us. His reassuring tone and witty jokes would make everything so much better, even when everything else feels wrong. For a very rare moment in my life, I'm lost for words, lost for words to describe this man. To describe his determination and passion for us would be an understatement to his abilities if I said it here.

And so, a sum up my adventures of those 12 days up in those highlands:

1. Ran around a field under blistering cold winds and light drizzles.
2. Taking cold showers every morning.
3. Enjoying cheap and delicious food.
4. Discovered a family outside my own :D

Cheers, everyone!