Showing posts with label Life Experience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life Experience. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Best Man Wins

Sometimes
rain pours down
and the tiny million drops would make
the winding path wet, slippery and even longer.....but
some would still step on carefully
placing their feet one after the other
holding to the mist and searching for the rainbow
amidst the cold;
man who hold on to themselves
man who’d maybe down but never beaten
man who knows he’s the best, willing to be and knows that
best man wins.

Each times
rain pours down
and the million tiny drops would turn
into a sea of flood where we’d drown in vain...but
some would reach the surface
gasping the breath and swim for the shore
against the strong current that leads to nowhere;
man who’d die to be the best
never care for what others might say for he knows that
best man wins.

Fight
for the last battle you reach
to the last drop of strength
it is either win and taste the glory
or die... but know
that man won’t die regretting for the wars they fought
man shall rest in peace knowing
he’s the best
an each man who knows he’s the best;
wins.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

I don't sing anymore

We all knew it was coming. Change. A good friend of mine tells me I am a reflective. And when one, like me, is given (forced to, actually, to be more precise) the opportunity to walk 30 minutes worth of panoramic Thames, Big Ben, the great British Airways London Eye, to school everyday; most of the time, alone... one reflects.

So when I reflect, I do many things.
I recall what I was like before.
I assess whether what I was before, was really what I wanted, what I think I wanted, or what I didn't realize about myself.
I think of what I am like now.
And I assess whether what I am now, is really what I wanted, what I think I want, or what I don't realize about myself.
I think of what I want in the future.
And again, I assess whether what I want to be in the future, is really what I want to be, what I think I want to be, what I am going to be or what I don't realize is going to happen to me. Technically, this last bit is impossible as I cannot be consciously thinking about my not realizing what is going to happen to me, but that very fact that I am thinking about it, makes me realize that I reflect even when I predict.

I didn't even realize it at first. I was too busy looking for people to walk to school with. I was too busy thinking about the fact that this view, this very view my sister live her whole conscious harry-potter-filled teenage life to see, is the view I see everyday when I do the very simple task of walking to school. I know if I were to try to say what I think now, (and evidently write, now) it would be pretty mouthful.

So when I reflect, I do many things.
I ask myself whether London is going to be the London it used to be for me.
I ask myself whether everyone who was in that very exact position as I am in 1992, 1997, 2002 0r even 2006, first year student in this gigantic metropolitan, from Malaysia (acting cool and at home but secretly excited about being so blessed to to be able to walk on English grounds and enjoying top ranking varsity education) walking to and from school, looking across the river, whether they did what I am doing and thought what I am thinking.
I then assessed whether walking on English grounds were really a blessing.
Or is it rather a test.
Then I ask myself what's so "blessed" about living in London because London used to be the London that it seemed in Malaysia, the London that takes a 12-hour plane ride and substantial finances to walk on, and not the London that it is now, which is the epitome of grumpy weather, guilty expensive coffee sittings and Sainsbury's frozen dinner evenings.

I used to sing until it bothered my college housemates. I used to sing in the shower, on early morning studying stints, back from daily Badminton after a tiring A-Level day. I used to sing along to the vast multitude of female singers that offer tunes so captivating just by chanting notes. They just generally have better voices as far as good-in-my-ear is concerned. They do. I used to sing along to them. I used to think I was not bad.

Today, I listened to Michelle Branch on my iPod, on a typical walk back to Bankside, from school, looking at the panorama London Eye and Big Ben never fail to offer me everyday. I sang along. I actually pulled out an earphone, and sang to myself, like I used to and listened to my own voice and criticized myself, as always, as before. And then I realized that it has been 2 months. Too short and too long at the same time.

And so I reflect, and I do many things.
I ask myself why has time passed by so fast, not the least bit merciful to my slow ability to sink in the changes I have gone through.
I ask myself why has time passed by so fast, not the least bit merciful to my slow ability to sink in the changes I am going through.
I ask myself why has time passed by so fast, not the least bit merciful to my slow ability to sink in the fact that it will all end so soon, I wouldn't realize it.
I ask myself why has time passed by so fast, not the least bit merciful to my slow ability to sink in the thought that I do not know what to feel and how to act when it ends.
I ask myself, what is IT really? And why am I ever so afraid that it is ending soon and that is it really all I want in my life and that it ending would mean the end of what I have been looking for my whole life.
I ask myself, what did those who walked the path I walked, the path by the Thames to the LSE as well as my life path, think when it ended for them?
Again, what is IT?
Is IT living abroad, away from home and "finding yourself" in the most scary-unsure-exciting way ever? Is studying abroad in a fancy-named institution ALL I want in life (just like I did just about 3 years ago)?

I don't know if I will ever realize the magnitude of change I am going through.
My thinking, my actions, my approach, my views.
I don't know.
For starters, I don't know why I don't sing anymore.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

I live next door to Tate Museum but I've never been there


I live next door to Tate Museum and I've never been there
I have so much in my mind, yet all I seem to do is hang around mindlessly
I hate friendster more and more, but I still use it
I have many friends here with me far away from home but I feel lonely
I turn on the heater when it's warm
and I turn it off when it's cold
I keep tossing between 2 choices, when I know I've made a choice from the very beginning
I worked so hard to get here, and yet I have no idea why I'm here
I love my family more than ever, but I don't seem to feel their absence
I hate blogging and poetry, yet I'm doing this (not that this is poetry)
I miss some people, they're just people I don't have to
I am late for an outing, yet I'm still here typing
Oh, I live next door to Tate Museum and I've never been there

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

The Boarding School Dilemma

Now you wonder, why dilemma? It's actually simple. My whole experience being a boarding school student was built on my dilemmas. I wouldn't say that this is a sure thing for ALL of us who had been "lucky" enough to experience residing and going to school at the same place for a small part of their lives. However, I dare say, that for most of us, whether we realize it or not, was dragged to the helm of deciding throughout this whole experience.

DILEMMA # 01: To go or not to go?

The primary, most crucial part of the whole experience. Those who picked the "road less travelled," you are bound to embark on an inexplicable jouney with your future filled with ambiguity, to put it in the most flowery manner possible. It wasn't actually that ambigous, you go to boarding school, get good education, take part in this privileged society's regional or national or selected students' level competitions, fill up your resume to the brim with the most extravagant awards anyone could possibly imagine, get prepped up for scholarship interviews, get damned perfect SPM grades at the end of it and get on with your skilfully-planned sucessful life. What a fantabulous idea, you had at the start of life as a boarding school student. Or at least, your parents had for you. Never once did I not see this fact plastered all over the parents' faces on registration day for new students back then. Yep, it's inevitable- it's what every single one of us, boarding school students had in mind when we passed Dilemma # 01 and chose to go through life on this path. There is, really, nothing wrong with it. Yeah, they all, in one way or another came true for most of us. The grades. The certificates. The glory. All of 'em. But the the REAL deal behind it all, only we can explain. And this has NOTHING to do with grades and achievements and at the same time, have EVERYTHING to do with them.

DILEMMA # 02: To Be or Not to Be?

Practically the entire part of our teenage lives is spent in our boarding school. This no one can deny. A boring but true statement: The teenage years is a period of self-discovery and establishing one's personality and behaviour according to what one thinks one wants to be at the moment, which can be highly influenced by peers and surroundings. Well, try "discovering yourself" in a boarding school. Equipped with the most unlike-home, government facilities (only for this aspect, students of posh private boarding schools are not taken into account- well there aren't that many in Malaysia anyways, boarding school students here are in general subjected to the infrastructure mentioned above), a peer-and-teacher-only surrounding consisting of VAST characters from a multitude of backgrounds (kampung kids, bangsar kids, east-coast kids), usually FAR AWAY from the comfort of home, mommy, daddy, the ASTRO cable and weekend movie trips, "discovering yourself" is nothing short of a mind-boggling, heart-breaking, stress-ladden, life-changing process. To put this in really simple words: IT WAS DAMN TOUGH!

Yet, many survived, alive and not-surprisingly changed for the better. How come? The question once again arises. There was the dilemma. Every boarding school student goes through this. The general summary:

Form 1 and 2: I'm the cute, naive freshman. So umm, do I wanna add that cute senior at Friendster, or should I just call him straight? Do I want to go back every weekend and grab the most-frequent-PB-kid title (PB = pulang bermalam = go back home for the weekend, also referred to as BB, balik bermalam) or should I just fly (escape from the school territory illegally, sans the warden's permission) and add the glam to my most-popular-form-2 title? Or should I become this bookworm and get close to the kakak senior setiausaha pengawas- so I might score a place in the High Prefectorial Council with the recommendation of the Cikgu Disiplin?

Form 3: I'm 15 and loving it. Juniors are to be bullied, seniors are to be irritated. What's the deal with SPM anyway? We've got PMR at the end of the year and we're not getting worked about it at all! Well, not until August at least. So, do I still go back every week and go on dates with Mamat/ Minah from 3 Bakti? Oh btw, crushing on senior guys are so over! They're so unreachable. Or taken. Oh and should I tryout for district level Handball? I've only got spots in the basketball, tennis, hockey and netball teams. Hey I need the certs to fill up my 2nd file ok? X has 3 files and no one's complaining! Except her best friend of course- they gaduh last weekend, I heard.

Form 4 and 5: Juniors die! Not literally of course, or I'll be heading straight to the principal's office to see your Datin mom. All I wanted was help. I was tired from the gotong royong, so what's wrong with asking for help to get mere teh ais, kurang manis and a nasi goreng dengan telur goreng letak sambal sikit je, tak mau banyak-banyak sangat. My dilemma: Do I stick to my juvenile self? - It's been great. Besides, it's not like I was the only one caught skipping prep (short for preparation time, a compulsory study period that fills practically every other time we don't eat, pray, play sports or sleep) and "lighting-up" behind the tangki air. Or do I actually start thinking about SPM? Oh crap, the juniors are super noisy! I'm tired of shhhh-ing. I'll just go to the next dorm and talk about this Akademi Fantasia mag I bought.

It happened to ALL of us, whether we realizeit or not. We spent our time deciding who we are, changing cliques, changing personalites, changing our goals in the effort of looking for "the REAL me." We judge people (oh yes, gossipping- even for the guys, more than the girls- and maggi remains as the No.1 favourite pastime of boarding school students), we invent terms and slang lingo (which, many, are perpetual amongst multiple boarding schools) and we strive to make ourselves and the people we choose to get close to the best spot in the social hierarchy (society is basically the just the student body, but back then, it was the world.)

DILEMMA # 03: To miss or not to miss?

Guys cry too, you know. At least guys who leave boarding schools after 5 wonderful (the very adjective utilized at the end of one's boarding school stint) years. Fact number whatever (who's counting?): The boarding school population generally spends the entire final Form 5 year telling themselves they're more than anxious to end life as a boarding school student. To add to the burning desire is the stress caused by preparations for the SPMs. To achieve our goals in the grades department, the teachers are more than driven to feed us (especially after the last meeting with the headmaster) with past-year questions and sample papers from some elite school who's Biology teacher is one of the SPM examiners. This might make it seem like students who go to boarding school have the grades simply because the teachers spoon-feed them. Nevertheless, these teachers have done everything in their might to help us get the grades. That's their job, and the students' job is (hey who's to deny these days?) to get as many A's as possible, and like the students, a teacher's got to do what a teacher's got to do.

Back to the subject of leaving school: we were really getting tired of it, we really wanted to escape the crazy mountains of practice papers, SPM educational-but-rather-exam-techniques seminars and camps and the fact that we had to forget about going back every weekend like we are so used to during the early years. So when it's all ACTUALLY over, none of us could really absorb the fact that easily. We were finally leaving the place (in my case, a little section within the woods of Rural Selangor) we spent 5 years 'growing-up' in. And really, we did grow up. We learned to deal with the people we hated. We witnessed our progress. We saw how we changed, into what we've changed and what we want to make of ourselves in the future, from that point of time on. The dilemma now is between 5 years of lamenting the very idea of BEING in this place or actually admitting to ourselves that WE SO TRULY AND FULL-HEARTEDLY LOVE OUR VERY OWN BOARDING SCHOOL (the place that homed the most memorable 5 years of our lives). The final dilemma- Do we (honestly) miss good 'ol asrama or do we not?