Gold and glory.

Yeap, this is it. I've felt this before. My palms start sweating uncontrollably when I think about it, like a tap of running water. My heart starts racing, pumping hard and thudding against my chest, sending cold chills down my every part of my body. My breath shallows down into fast, rapid successions, taking in more breaths per minute than a race car driver. But this time, I'm prepared, prepared enough to reassure myself of the insecurities inside my over-thoughtful head.

Have you ever had to funnel all your hard work, blood, sweat and tears into a few mere minutes? A few mere minutes where you had the chance to make or break yourself, minutes where you could jeopardise everything or make it all worthwhile. It's a daunting feeling, you can't help but think about yourself messing up and the consequences that come with it. And yet, it's the fear that keeps us alive. It's not the absence of fear that makes us brave, but the strength to overcome it.

And so, hear I stand, with sweaty palms and shallow breaths, geared up and ready to go. This is it. No more talking, no more dreaming, no more losing. I'm going in this, for the glory, for the best of me, gold medal or not, I'm going to walk out of this winning. Winning in it's best way.     

Valentine's Vendetta.

Ah yes, Valentine's day, a day where couples revel in all their juicy-touchy feelings and express themselves lavishly upon their partners. For some, it's a day to make up for all the mistakes throughout the year, a day of redemption, if I might say. And for the thousands of hormone-induced boys like me, it's the dreaded Forever Alone day, where we feel lonelier than ever, reminded of the fact that we're all alone on this day of love, with no one to share our feelings with.

Personally, I'm not a fan of this much-celebrated occasion. Love is timeless, a feeling that lingers and should be celebrated and practiced daily, not annually. And yet, strangely enough, I kinda disagree with the Forever Alone celebraters too. In my book, saying that you're 'foreveralone' only speaks to me that you need, I repeat, you NEED the courtship of the opposite sex. Hungering for attention from someone, hoping that they'll pity you and grant you your inner most desires.

And so, I stepped into class today as I would any other day, carrying out my duties and greeting my friends as usual. I had nothing special in mind. No presents, no cards, no chocolates and definitely not a special girl in mind. 'Just a plain old Tuesday.' I thought to myself. Just another day of dozing off in class and laughing my guts out with the guys, making up dirty jokes and calling each other the bastards that we are.

But then, something unexpected happened, a blessing, I might say. I stepped into class and  saw this perched precariously on my table cluttered with things:

 

I must admit, with the girlish decor and pretty handwriting, I thought it was from a secret admirer that wanted to court me. "OH YES!" I screamed inside. But when I was told it was a friendly gesture from a friend of mine. " Awwww....." went my brain again. I picked myself up from my post-loneliness depression and got my head straight. The guys told me that the gift is from Shell, a friend of mine from the class next door. I made it a point to myself that I'd thank her for this sweet gesture.

Somewhere during breaktime, I strutted out of class in search for Shell. We met down in the hallway, where I thanked her for that awesome gift of her's. Out of curiousity, I asked her how many of these little brownie packages did she make for others. '30' she said. I was astonished. 30?! 30 packages to fill with brownies, carefully wrap, and decored with a lovely pink ribbon that even a scout can't even decipher. On top of that, it had the names of every 30 people written down in gold marker, revolving around the card itself. 

That's a total of 90 mini brownies sliced up and about 360 names written down in gold marker! Oh, I do love to calculate the details. And so Shelley, this one's to you. For someone who not only made my day that much more bearable, but that of 30 others. You've showed me what it's really like to forgive someone and hold no grudges, even when they've treated you like dirt and kicked you when you're down, you still display the love and thoughtfulness that you once felt. 

And that my friend, takes a hear of pure solid, 24-karat gold. A heart of gold that's as rare and as expensive than any diamond money can buy. A heart that displays true and pure love in every sense of the word, expecting nothing, and yet giving everything. So here's to you, our Valentine Vendetta! 

   

Acne Anonymous.

" Hey, let me recommend to clear 'that' up for you, it's this product...." he said while gesturing his pudgy finger all over his face. Immediately, I shut him off my mind and stopped listening to what he had to say. I just stood there, nodding to his endless mumbling about some cure-all product that would do wonders for me. Another product that would just end up in the trash by the end of the month. Don't get me wrong, I know he's just being thoughtful and considerate of my condition. But I hated the fact that he reminded me. Reminded me of my curse.

When I was a little baby boy, I had the smoothest, whitest and most radiant skin in the the face of Malaysia has ever seen. Looking back at all those adorable baby pictures of me, I found it hard to believe it was me at all. I was so pure.... so pleasant.... so beautiful. My relatives couldn't help but pinch my cheeks and lament how cute and chubby I was. So cute in fact, that my sister admits that I hogged all the attention from her as a child. ( I'm sorry Aimee ) Indeed, I was cute and chubby.

As the years zoomed by, I grew out of my chubbiness. I remember betting a serving of KFC's scrumptous Cheezy Wedges with my sister that I'd outgrow her before I turned 13. She lost that bet horribly. By a couple of centimeters to be exact. But, there was a downside to my growth spurt, a downside that I never saw coming. A downside so impacting, that I can honestly say, it's changed me. I had acne.

The first signs started when I entered secondary school, 13 and dumb as hell. It wasn't much of an eyesore at first, quiet bearable actually. Just a sprinkle of it along my forehead and a touch of it on my temples, absolutely nothing to worry about. In one year's time, everything changed. It spreaded like wildfire, scouring along every corner and every nook on my face, until there wasn't even a clean spot left.

And then it started, the endless insults, pokes and jokes poured all over me. They'd make fun of me, asking me if they can pinch my pimples and laughing at me when some of my zits got pretty big. It was horrible. Every line, every word took it's toll on my self-confidence. It was like I couldn't fit into society at all, like I was a part of the puzzle that just stood out like a sore thumb. Girls would look at me, their faces contorted and disgusted. They'd ask me if I ever wash my face.

Of course, my mom looked out for me. She'd buy all these expensive washes, scrubs and toners for me. They were quiet effective at first, but somehow, my face seemed to have mutated over it. It kinda laughed at all these petty facial products. And so, we consulted the professionals. I can't even begin to fathom the amount of expenses my dear mother has spent for me, for my condition. Every week, we'd visit a dermatologist and perform lots of fancy treatments and procedures. My mom's dressing room shelf is now piled high with these products, all costing a fortune.

After a year of intensive treatment, they were finally able to slow down the process of my stage-4 acne. It stopped growing, and my skin is all smoothed out now, but the scars remain. Scars that won't go away no matter how much scrubbing you do. Even so, I still have to keep up my home treatment with all these expensive products. I fear I'll have to use them for life. Money that could be spent on more important things. Money that could be used to give ourselves a nice holiday. It pains me to see when Mom grumbles about her credit card bills. I can't help but feel it's part of my fault.

Even so, I believe that everything in our lives happen for a reason. Even acne. As i look on the brighter side of things, I realize that my condition has changed me. Acne helped me find who my real friends are, friends who don't mind if I have the ugliest face in the world, as long as I'm still me. Acne has taught me to make it in this harsh world without hitching a ride with beauty. And above all, acne has taught me that it's what on the inside that counts. What's under the surface.

With that, dear acne, it turns out you haven't been much of a foe or an ally at all. Like everything else in life. I misunderstood you.

Evil scheming birds.

My jaws dropped heavily and comically ( well, sort of. ) when I heard the news. Such disgrace, such inhumanity, such shamelessness! "Oh dear, what has become of our once innocent society? " I thought. Has it fell so far, that people forgot how to maintain a sense of their self-respect? Has it dropped so bad, that people have forgotten the very moral values that we recite every time exams come running around. This ISN'T okay, this ISN'T fine, this is BLASPHEMY!

How could you be so thoughtless in your actions? Like a bullet train without a driver, you're steaming your way through life and knocking down everyone in their path. Haven't you ever considered the feelings of other people? The feelings that make each and every one of us unique, the feelings that make life beautiful. Or have you forgotten what real feelings are? Yes, I'm a bystander in this big show of a love game, and this isn't any of my business. But when you betray a person's feeling so easily, so effortlessly my heart aches to have a say in this.

I admit, I'm not the wisest person around the block, I haven't had much of a love life at all. I'd say I'm pretty darn clueless when it comes to the opposite sex. But I know what's right and what's wrong when it comes to dating someone, and you're definitely riding on the low road with what you're doing. I know that a vast majority of high-school relationships barely last for a year, but the least you can do is maintain some sense of decency when it comes to something like this. 

Honestly, I'd love to go on all night ranting about how unruly the situation is, but hey, I really dislike negative writing, and I believe it'll only make you angrier. I just hope you'll be able to see the pain and worries you've caused to the people around you. At the very least, consider what you're doing to others and more importantly, consider what you're doing to yourself. Remember, I'm not the one getting a bad reputation with other people here. 


I apologize to all my dear fellow readers out there who had to sit through all that incessant ranting. It's just something that I needed to say, something that others wanted to say as well. And to my fellow inconsiderate love birds, I do hope you take this matter seriously. It's not only your life your messing around with, but others as well. And if no one had the courage to tell you that, then let this blog post be your first. Cheers!