Post-exam blues

               The music from my radio was blaring, books and notes were strewn across my study table, covering it like a cloth made out of paper and ink. My stationaries were jumbled amongst the mess too, each one of them begging for their shot at making their master proud. I stared blankly at the mass of words printed out, aiming only to memorise and not understand. Cramming every piece of relevant information I could in the limited time I had. My head was throbbing, saturated with and dripping wet with all the information inside. I was stressed, worn out and generally deprived of my gaming. Such was the case for me during the last 3 weeks of my dreaded examinations.

“Blasted exams..” I muttered.

                You’d think that the second my exams were over that I’d be leaping with joy, hopping around, yelling profanities, flipping tables and whacking my friends like for no good reason. Come to think of it, I expected that too. During the 3 miserable weeks of my examinations, I couldn’t wait for it to be over. I kept telling myself that once I finish these exams, I’m home free! Free to do as I please and relish in all my gaming privileges. But for some unexplainable reason, when the countdown for the last exam started, I felt nothing. No joy. No relief. Nothing at all. What an anticlimax.

                Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the much awaited hours of gaming. My fingers fleeted with joy across the keyboard as I was reunited with the much awaited world of virtual interactivity. Time spent relaxing around the house has also done wonders for my mood and my complexion. But something niggled at the back of my mind (that happens a lot), I didn’t feel somewhat… happy, which was exactly what I expected to feel as I gamed and spent time fooling around with my friends. I expected something… happier.

                Maybe it was the thought of the impeding SPM examinations that stirred my emotional well-being. Or maybe this was something permanent. Does finishing my SPM examinations guarantee that I’d feel a surge of happiness from dropping that massive load as a student? Or will the cycle just repeat itself, just like my mid-terms? I thought that I’d have a blasted good time after a big exam, dropping off my load and being care-free. But no, it just feels like one big cycle waiting to repeat itself over and over again.

                I always believed that happiness was a light at the end of a tunnel. That I’d be happy and blissful once I achieve success and make loads of money for my wife and kids. But lately, I’ve been seriously doubting that belief. Maybe success isn’t the key to happiness, maybe happiness is the key to success. Maybe it’s in the food we eat, the bed we sleep, the friends we make and the life we live. Maybe happiness isn’t some unreachable light at the end of a tunnel, maybe it’s everywhere around us.

                But alas, such a daunting question requires much more time to think about. Don’t worry mum, I’ll 

 still study for my SPM’s. 

                                            

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!

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.