But Then Again

Amen to These Words

2012-01-24T23:31:00.001+08:00

"You should further studies overseas. The experience will be very good for you."

The first person who told me this was my practicum mentor, Madam Wu Feun Fang. The second person was Madam Lim Wai Fun, my lecturer for Women in Literature course back in my final semester. The third person who told me this was Madam Karen, an Indian lady who is also my current co-employer at Pusat Pendidikan Bersekutu Bumi Perak (ARR English Programme).

While I've been truly humbled by these words, I know that it is just not possible at the moment.
InsyaAllah, one fine day.

Of Scroll and Mortar Board - Part 2

2011-11-10T23:12:00.000+08:00

P/S: These super awesome pictures are courtesy of our super awesome Michelle Undan :)

Of Scroll and Mortar Board - Part 1

2011-11-02T23:55:00.000+08:00

Hybernating

2011-10-13T23:45:00.002+08:00

I'm just so lazy to write anything these days.

Please, Please , Please Let This be True!

2011-10-04T00:00:00.000+08:00

I'll Go Second!

2011-09-29T01:24:00.000+08:00

Convocation Seating, October 2011.

Another Made-My-Day News, But Had to Let It Go

2011-09-24T01:26:00.001+08:00

Received a phone call from my former lecturer, Madam Siti Salina two days ago.
Didn't see it coming, really. I was really taken aback.

She was asking whether I was interested to be her research assistant.

Then I told her I'd love to, but I was currently an ocean away. It turned out she didn't know that I came from the other part of the world. She immediately understood that it was kind of tricky for both of us. I thanked her all the same for even offering. Told her it meant the world to me. But what made my day was when she said this to me:

"You're one of the students I trust the most."

Hearing this almost brought me to tears. I was humbled by these words.

Alhamdulillah

2011-09-02T23:37:00.000+08:00

Watching the news on the great famine in Somalia really makes me ponder whether I have thanked God enough for every single good thing He has ever blessed me with.

For every day, I look around and envy those who have more, oftentimes oblivious to those who have less.

Alhamdulillah. Thank you, ya Allah. I thank You for the air that I breathe, for the food on my plate every single day, for the good health, for the borrowed knowledge and worldly materials, for the comfort of my house, for my loving family.

I thank You for the prosperous life that I lead.

Rooting On

2011-08-27T02:08:00.001+08:00

Pictures courtesy of Yahoo! Sports

Dear Nadal, you don't even know me, and probably never will.

That's pathetic, I know. But heck, I am sure I am not the only fan unknown by you in this big world.

Screw that, too! I will say what I want to say to you.

Play well and make me happy.

Because seeing you smile like that, really makes my day.

And that sounds flat-out gay. But who in the hell cares.

P/S: US Open, the final major of the year begins on Monday. Nadal is the defending champion.

Konversasi Mukabuku

2011-08-21T22:40:00.000+08:00

Superman

2011-08-19T02:35:00.003+08:00

I was extremely exhausted, famished, physically drained and full of rage yesterday when I received a text message. I restrained the urge to hurl the phone at people passing by before me. Honestly, I was in one of my moods yesterday, all credit to one numbskull who really made me lose my cool.

But I took up the phone instead, heaved heavily in an attempt to regain composure before I read on.

"Greetings and Assalamualaikum sir," The message began.

"Hazmi here wishing u happy ramadhan and happy eid soon. A week after raya i'm gonna seat (sit) for spm trial. Wish me luck sir :D"

"W'salam. Here comes my brilliant boy =)", I found my fingers typing enthusiastically.

"What a pleasant surprise this is! Thank you for the wonderful thought, Hazmi. I am beyond happy that you still remember me. My prayers are always with you. You'll do great in SPM. Please let me know how you're doing in life by constantly keeping in touch =)"

"Alrite sir, no worries :D", he replied.

And just like that, the broken me was immediately fixed.

I remember that at this point of time last year, I was an English teacher trainee at SM Teknik Klang, desperate to blend in and trying hard to impress. That's how I met Hazmi. He was one of my 4PEE1 students. In fact, I remember him so well because he was the brightest in his class when English was concerned. There was one time when I was so flared up because the entire class did not complete the task that I had assigned them to do.

Except for him.

I must say, he literally, and single-handedly, saved the rest of the class that day from my could-have-been-explosive wrath. And come to think of it, it's no surprise that on the day when nothing seemed right for me and when I was on the verge of faltering, he came to the rescue like a superman in his own version, turned everything upside down (in a good way, of course) and gave me a reason to smile for the rest of the day.

For this very reason, I pray that God will give you million reasons to smile in return, boy. Million reasons to smile in life, beyond your academic concern. This old (at heart) Sir of yours is so proud of you.

Before I wrap up, here's a little game. Can you single him out from the farewell photo below?

Yup. He's the lad with that proud face, chin up and that visible 'High End' label on his shirt :)

A Picture in a Broken Frame

2011-08-16T01:01:00.008+08:00

Image courtesy of GT.Com

A frame is broken, fractured;
A frame that has embraced your picture.
Though I can barely see your face now through the glass that's shattered,
I keep it close to me, for how long only time will assure.

Years gone by,
And there were times when I persuaded my eyes to close and a voice would be singing lullaby,
Putting me to sleep, and telling me that it was human to cry.

The frame, though broken,
Still embraces your picture, so ever benevolently.
Just like your youthful charms that have been captured and frozen,
So have I been, by your memories, so very mercilessly.

In Loving Memory

2011-07-29T01:37:00.005+08:00

The sun shone brightly when I woke up, and a line of its glorious ray seeped across my room through a crack between the curtains. Outside, the sky was clear and untroubled.

A beautiful day, indeed.

A day too beautiful and serene there was just no telling that it could be flawed. And it offended and pained me to the core of my bones that such tranquility was only far too short before the rest of the day was slathered with mourning and sorrow.

Though it was one bright and brilliant day, I wish it would have never come.

When my grandma from my mum’s side departed five years ago, I remember I was the one who broke the news to my other siblings since I was the only one who was present at the Emergency Room apart from my parents, uncles and aunties. On the other end of the phone, I could almost see my sister stand still, speechless. Tears choked all utterances.

Yesterday, I eventually had my share of being on the receiving end.

It was hard to grasp all the words coming out from my aunt’s mouth over her frantic and incontrollable sobbing. But they were intelligible enough for me to realize that my grandma from my dad’s side, who had been residing in Indonesia, and whom I last met five years ago had been called to rest for eternity. She collapsed three days prior and was admitted to one of the local hospitals and temporarily regained consciousness. Thus, it was hard to comprehend the phrase “She’s gone” when we all had been under the impression that she was all okay.

But nothing was harder than seeing my dad collapse in resignation.

The passing of my grandma reached me before every else in my family. When I was too overwhelmed to utter a single word, I handed the phone over to my mum who later broke down irrepressibly, a part of her was still disbelieving. The last time I saw her weep just as heartbreaking was when her own mum departed and she went ballistic and paced the hospital floor akin a raging child who had been told that she could not get her doll back.

It was during this time, when my mum was crying over the phone conversation that my dad arrived, and he immediately knew the rest of the story without having us explaining.

All my life, my dad has been the pillar of strength in our household. He has always been the one whom we can always depend on for words of comfort. He has always been the calmest in calamities, the strongest to come out of storms and the one who can always fix the broken for us.

Yesterday, however, he was the broken one and none of us knew just how to fix him.

Like the rest of my family, the last time my dad saw my grandma was when she came over here for my sister’s wedding. That was five years ago. Although he never openly expressed, deep down we knew he always wanted to pay his parents a visit, but his perpetual commitments over here constantly constrained him.

And it could have been that - an irredeemable regret - that turned off the power button in him and left him lifeless for the rest of the day.

It killed me to see my dad that way, but I learned one great lesson.

Dear grandma, you might never knew this, but I have always said to myself that once I have owned a stable job and earned enough, I would go every step of the way to pay you and granddad a visit. A visit on behalf of my parents, particularly my dad. If by any chance this could reach to you somewhere up there, I just want to let you know that dad would glow with indescribable happiness whenever he talked to you on the phone. And that longing in his eyes. Thank you, thank you and thank you for giving me one amazing dad, a tribute to none other but you. I truly hope he has been just as amazing a son to you.

We already miss you so very much.

“Every soul shall have a taste of death; in the end to Us shall ye be brought back” – Al-‘Ankabut, 29:57, The Holy Quran.

Al-Fatihah.

One Day When I am Filthy Rich

2011-07-26T23:09:00.000+08:00

Goodbye, Borders

2011-07-25T00:56:00.002+08:00

It's ironic that Borders got its start as one of those little community shops, selling used books 40 years ago in a Michigan college town. Critics say it faltered, in part, because management moved too slowly to adapt to the reigning digital age.

I suppose you could say the same about me.

I understand the attraction of Nooks and Kindles, of clicking through book excerpts online and tapping pages on touch screen iPads.

But nothing beats holding a book in my hands; skimming it, smelling it, flipping the pages, hearing the author's voice in my head. It's that process of discovery, not the product, that makes partners among loyal book lovers and buyers.

I can't help but fear that the failure of a giant outlet like Borders signals the end of a precious era — when satisfying literary lust was both a private pleasure and public endeavor.

Sandy Banks, The Sad Evolution of a Major Bookstore Chain, Los Angeles Times

That's What Friends are For

2011-07-22T00:55:00.001+08:00

The following conversation took place via text-messaging service.

Friend: Thanks B-).. u know what, im glad to have someone like u to share my probs. U've been a good listener/motivator.

Me: Tell me something new. Haha. That's nothing, really. It's just I would love to see us head to the places we have always wanted to be at, and do the things we have always dreamed of. And probably, meet again one day, all grown-up and get so say to each other "We did it." :D

Friend: Haa, ak suka cara ko bfikir.. don't worry, we'll do that in the future.. insyaAllah

Silence

2011-06-29T21:27:00.006+08:00

FOREWORD

When I was first told that we were required to write journals as part of the prerequisite evaluations for my Creative Writing class, what came into my mind was “I am not going to write typical journals”. What I mean as typical journal is to write so many different things that are most likely not related; something that apparently has no focus (though they might have particular topics) and hardly substantial.

Therefore, I have decided to come up with a story that has 14 chapters in it, and that would be equal to the 14 journals that we are supposed to have.

Silence is derived from my own experience as a human being with ugly flaws and attributes. It is one of the strongest memories I have had so far, and upon realizing that Creative Writing is the only class where I am fully allowed to express my thoughts, feelings, creativity and authentic experiences, I have convinced myself to seize the opportunity given and write down an experience that is so dear to my heart.

Everyone has a silent story in their lives, a story that we rather keep it all inside. However, one day we will wake up in the middle of the night and this silent story will come back and haunt us. Silence does not fall only when we are all alone and without companion. Silence does not come only when you are in a place where you do not belong. Nor that it comes when there is not a single sound around you. Silence comes even when you are in the most crowded place.

From a bigger perspective, there are so many issues that are considered as “silent” in this life. We keep it silent for we fear of people’s judgment and negative impression. We have been so accustomed of asking ourselves “what might people think?”, and therefore, we refuse to do justice and to be fair to ourselves.

On a more personal note, there are feelings we wish we could say to the people that stand dear to our heart, but they are kept silent. Indeed, life is an odd affair. And because it is often unpredictable and complicated, keeping it silently might be the better way. Whatever it is, there will be a point where our little heart can’t take it no more.

And sharing it might heal our little heart, silently.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you probably have known by now, this was the foreword of my Journal for my Creative Writing course back in semester five. 'Silence', in my opinion, remains one of the best writings I have ever produced to date, and how I wish I could publish all the 14 chapters here on my blog. But I am still not convinced to take that big step. I still remember that I obtained a total 14 out of 15 marks allocated for this particular assignment. For me, it indicated a great deal of how much writing skills that I drew into 'Silence' and needless to say, it was a great feeling to know that it was well-received by my lecturer.

Every now and again, I would go to my Creative Writing folder and take my own time to read it. And more often that not, while reading, I would ask myself "Whatever possessed me to write it? Was it really me who wrote this?".

And the biggest question that is always lingering at the back of my mind is this: Could someone mean so much in your life that you gather up all the courage, brave through the pain and heartache of recollecting bitter memories (after spending years trying to bury them away) and immortalize them in your writing?

My English Teacher

2011-06-18T22:01:00.006+08:00

I still recollect that moment rather vividly.

Butterflies were all over my stomach that day. I couldn’t sit still. I was seated next to my classroom entrance door, so I had the first glimpse when my English teacher came carrying a pile of papers. Our test papers. I had been spending time thinking way too unnecessarily about my English paper. After all, it was my favourite subject, and the thing I loathed the most more than anything was to be forced to take the back seat when the subject was concerned. I loved to be the one earning the highest score in English. I didn’t give a deuce about other subjects; physics, chemistry, maths. I never fancied those subjects. And I didn’t mind to be at the bottom of the list for those subjects any day.

But not English.

So you could imagine how hard it was for me to digest when the paper returned to me bore a huge B on the right top. A freaking B. And I knew from low whispers floating around me that a couple of my classmates obtained better grades than me. It was something that escaped my understanding entirely – that I had just been dethroned in English. I stared long and hard at the test paper before me. I felt numb. I felt humiliated. I felt strangely incompetent. I felt that my ego had just been tap danced on.

And before I knew it, I burst into tears.

Now that I try to recall the moment more clearly, the whole class must have been in great shock. After all, I was a newbie in that school, and honestly, I was no near of being likable. Everyone thought I was a big snob. The truth was, I was away from home for the first time after 16 years and making new friends was not something that I was a natural at. So for me, being witnessed weeping by the whole class was like a big chunk of my pride was yanked out of me and tossed into a filthy dustbin. The whole class must have been laughing their heads off silently.

Greatly puzzled, my English teacher came over to my table and tried to find the reason behind my sudden, out-of-this-world tantrum. But I just wouldn’t say a single word. Tears kept streaming down my face. She tried to get back my test paper that I had severely crumpled and tossed under my table. When she finally managed to get it (I can’t remember how), she had a second inspection and noticed that she had miscalculated my mark, and after correction, my grade improved tremendously. But heck, the damage was done. Inarguably, it was one of the most degrading moments in my life.

Yet it was also the beginning of my fond bond with my English teacher, Madam Rohayati.

That day, I realized that she was one of a very few people who could keep up with my odd comportments – and that in itself made my affection towards English deeper and deeper with each passing day. I can recall her words she said on that humiliating day: that next time something goes wrong, confide in her first instead of weeping like a child (which was a massive discomfiture since I was a 16-year old bloke, and by a huge margin not a child).

Prior penning this entry, I wanted to say so many wonderful things about her, but then I realized that the single most wonderful thing that she did was simply by being herself. By God, she was one hell of a witty teacher. She could crack up stomach-hurting jokes while maintaining her poker face. Honestly, how many people in your life can make fun of you without really hurting your feelings? Well, she was one of these rare people. On so many occasions, she said that I sounded like a Filipino when I spoke English back then. But I wasn’t discouraged. The last time I spoke to her on the phone, the first thing she said was “How come your voice still sounds like that?” and I burst out laughing. Her wide sense of humour made my schooling days less draining.

And even when the going got tough, I could always count on her to be a shoulder to cry on.

I remember one occasion when I was in form five. For some reasons that I cannot quite recall now, I was so mentally disheveled. Being me, I would rather keep it to myself - but she saw me through. I waited until my other classmates had left the classroom when I finally poured out everything that I had been keeping all inside to her. I tried to be cool and hold back the tears, but her soothing voice penetrated my defense, and next thing I knew, I was peeled right to the core of my emotions, defenseless. And one wisdom from her that will never die out in me is “You don’t need so many people around you. Enough with those who truly matter”.

Just so you know, she was one of the reasons I decided to take up TESL. In fact, hours before I attended my TESL interview absolutely five years back, she helped me arrange my documents and certificates properly.

Therefore, when I officially ended my degree in TESL with first class honours just yesterday, I could not help but think of this one very special person in my life.

For me, she was more of a mother than a teacher. You know, people say so many things about the secrets of being a good teacher. But with her, what you see is what you get. She said things and meant them, and even the words could be very sharp at times, you would appreciate the transparency and hold high her decision not to play pretense. I had used the thick Longman dictionary long before the dictionary was made compulsory for us during pre TESL, all because of her. The dictionary was rather pricy when I bought it, but she had inculcated the love towards English in me until saving up some money for that dictionary was something that I did not even think twice to do. And I am still using it up to this very moment.

Tell me, how many teachers in your life can move your little heart to do things like that?

Dear Madam Rohayati, I just want to let you know that you have been a big part of me, though I might have never really said it out loud to you all this while. You know what? I still have that attitude, that I hate to be the second best and that I will accept nothing but perfection. Remember when you said that I was your best student? Since the day you said that, I have worked so hard to live up to your expectation, to keep making you proud and most importantly, to prove to you that you were right.

I dedicate my first class degree in TESL to you.

From Asia, with Love

2011-06-05T00:27:00.001+08:00

It's a big day to Asians, particularly if you're a tennis freak like me.

Li Na of China becomes the first Chinese player to win a Grand Slam Women's Singles title at the French Open 2011. She beat the defending champion, Francesca Schiavone of Italy 6-4, 7-6 (0) in a match that saw the collision between China National flags and thunderous chants for Schiavone throughout. It was a hard match to watch since I generally fancy both of them. But Li Na was obviously the better player, and since Schiavone had her own historic French Open moment last year, I was on Li Na's side today.

Congratulations, Li Na!

P/S: My siblings were wondering why the Williams sisters were nowhere to be seen at the French Open this year. Duh, they certainly need to catch up. And tomorrow, the Men's Singles final is set to entertain featuring the arguably greatest rivals in tennis, Rafael Nadal vs. Roger Federer.

And I would certainly feel insulted if you even had to ask my pick.

I Know This Might be a Little Too Late

2011-05-23T21:28:00.001+08:00

But heck! I'm telling the world anyway that I have completed my 140-page thesis!

Alhamdulillah!
So it's official now that I have also completed my half a decade study.
Will be going back to Sabah on Wednesday. It's kind of sad, though.
I've been so used to packing up with this thought at the back of my mind "I'll come back next semester".
No more next semester for me. So I'll just brave through the huge world out there.

p/s: Now that I have completed everything, I will try to blog as frequent as I used to.

Enlighten Me

2011-04-23T04:17:00.000+08:00

A few of my friends, particularly those from high schools (since I had two high schools back then), have been asking me this one SIMPLE question:

"Ko dah tak tahu cakap melayu kah sekarang?"

Tell me, how am I supposed to answer that?

Amir Ashraf Ashar

2011-04-15T17:53:00.001+08:00

Miss you so much! Will be going back to Sabah very, very soon! (And that's a lie. Sigh).

P/S: This little boy is my nephew :)

To SM Teknik Klang with Love

2011-04-09T19:40:00.003+08:00

I was in my hometown when a friend of mine called me up and informed me that the list of practicum schools had been issued. My mouth immediately went dry. I dropped whatever that I had been doing up to that moment. I took a big gulp before I spoke again.

“Which school have I been assigned to?”, I asked.

“Let me see. It’s a technical school, mate. SM Teknik Klang”.

My heart stopped beating. In that instant, my mind was inundated with perpetual negative thoughts: naughty, problematic male students, underperforming students, students with technical inclinations etc. And there I would be sent to, assigned as a trainee English teacher. A trainee ENGLISH teacher. I thought to myself “How on earth am I supposed to be teaching English to a class of students who is so much into machines and tools?”. For me, it was as if I had been asked to teach ballet to a bunch of buffed, football-playing boys. That was how daunting and terrifying it seemed to me at that time.

Quite naturally, I lost my appetite for the next few days.

But all these unfounded, preconceived opinions were entirely swept away on my first day at SM Teknik Klang. I had never seen so many smiling faces in my whole life until I came to the school. The first astonishing impression that I attained was from the school’s HEP senior assistant, Puan Maimumah Bador. Terrified and clueless on my first day, I was greeted by her with a broad smile on her face she immediately made me feel like home. It was as if she just met her son who had been away for so many years. Then I met Puan Siti Maimumah, a fine, well-dressed lady who was also the head of English department.

But the highlight of the day was when I met my mentor for the first time; Madam Wu Fuen Fang. She was a petite Chinese lady with vast teaching experience. A wonderful, wonderful person - heck, it is actually an understatement because she was beyond wonderful. For me, she was more like a mother than a mentor. I was once asked by one of my trainee teacher friends "How come you have never complained about your school?". But ponder upon this: how could I ever be in a bad mood when the first things I saw when I arrived at the school were beaming smiles from everyone? Yes, teachers and staff alike.

Therefore, when I was conferred the Best Practicum Student Award (TESL) last night during our Pre-Graduation Dinner, I knew I could not have been there without my supportive team, especially my two biggest teachers, mum and dad.

There are so many people that I would like to thank personally, but I know the list would be endless. But to everyone at SM Teknik Klang, particularly my mentor, Madam Wu Fuen Fang, you know I can never, ever thank you enough. You are one of my biggest inspirations in life, and you have taught me that nothing beats passion in everything you do. Your words were magical and just pure wisdom. I could not have attained a better mentor, and how I wish everyone had a mentor like you in their lives. The last day of practicum was the hardest, as I knew that I would be away from you. But now I know, you might not be here for me physically, but your pure wisdom lives on in me. That's the best legacy of all.

To Puan Siti Mai, I can never forget the help you offered me while I was there, the stories you shared that never ceased to inspire me and the enormous belief you had in me. And to every single person at the school: Puan Hajah Fuziah, the supportive principal of SM Teknik Klang, Puan Hajah Kamariah and her witty demeanour, Puan Hjh Anis Hasanah, Tuan Haji for your great wisdom (you're one of the most quotable persons I have ever met), Puan Chau (I miss you so much and our little stories! Hehe), Ustazah Aisyah, Ustazah Hasnah, Ustaz Abu Bakar, Cikgu Shofinaz, Cik Tutie Dahlia (Remember the crossword puzzles we were working on and the help from Google? Hehe!) Puan Hany for trusting me to educate the wonderful 4PEE1 kids, Cik Siti Alviah, Puan Chan, Cikgu Suria, Cikgu Raziah (you have gorgeous smile! Hehe), Cikgu Hidayah, Cikgu Azman, Cikgu Ramana, Kak Norliza, Cikgu Firdaus (I liked it when you came over to Bilik Guru 1 and disturbed us there! Hehe. You were funny and light hearted), Encik Osman who never failed to greet me every single day, Encik Mior who constantly teased me! Hahaha! Alif from the school café (thanks for the wonderful food at affordable price, Alif! Hehe) and just absolutely EVERYONE. I can’t possibly mention each of you, but you know you made my practicum days as colourful and full of happiness as they were. I will never, ever forget the memories that we once shared.

To my most revered supervisor, Prof. Madya Dr. Abu Bakar (Dr. Burn, as we fondly call him) for your guidance and belief in me. By God, I could not have asked for a better supervisor. I am honoured to have been your supervisee, something that most people could only dream of, yet I had you for real. Thank you for every recognition and correction, Dr. Your assurance when I wasn't so sure myself, your positive nods when I thought I had been talking nonsense in front of the classroom and just for being there whenever I was clueless and in need for an enlightenment. For all these reasons, I am eternally grateful. Thank you so much, Dr.

And of course, to my practicum partner, Fatin Sabrina! Remember how many times we told ourselves how lucky we were those days? I had countless good times with you, and yes, I could not have asked for a better partner. We pushed each other to do better with each and every supervision. And actually, practicum really made us close. I didn’t know you that much previously, but we really got along well, didn’t we? And thank your for having faith in me to drive your car when you knew perfectly well that I had not driven any cars for almost four years! :D

And lastly to my amazing 4KA2, wonderful 4PEE1 and hilarious 4ABM kids! I might have never said this to you kids in class, but you were the reason I came to the school each and every single day (apart from my obligation, of course. Hehe). I know the first few weeks were rough, I rarely beamed and was pretty much uncrackable at first, but as the days passed by, I realized I could not afford to not seeing you kids even for a day! Remember how I used to stand outside your door as you guys made your way out once the lesson was over every Friday to wish you good weekends? Well, that was because I knew I was going to miss you lots for the next two days! Hehehe! We certainly had good moments together, and please don't forget me, because I won't, and I wish all each and everyone nothing but the best the world can offer.

Lead a good life, kids :')

Malaysians Speak Good English!

2011-04-07T18:17:00.003+08:00

It's a proud day for us Malaysians!

EF (Education First) English Proficiency Index has issued its 2011 report for English proficiency level for non-native countries. Overall, Malaysia is ranked 9th with EF EPI score (whatever this means) is 55.54 and our overall level is 'High Proficiency'. There are no Asian countries ranked ahead of us, thus it makes Malaysia as the leading Asian country in English proficiency for non-native countries!

Below is the top 10 non-native countries with the highest English proficiency level:

1. Norway
2. Netherlands
3. Denmark
4. Sweden
5. Finland
6. Austria
7. Belgium
8. Germany
9. Malaysia
10.Poland

The lowest English proficiency level among Asian countries is Thailand, followed by Indonesia. The full report can be viewed here in Education First official website.

Give yourself a pat at your back, Malaysians!

Of Boredom and Burnout

2011-04-06T02:15:00.002+08:00

Blogging live from McDonald Section 23, Shah Alam!

Mimie without her glasses. I am not certain if she can actually see! She has had a small portion of French fries, an apple pie and a medium-sized coke. Nope, she hasn't finished revising. Haha!

Hello, everyone. This is Hidayati Abdullah. And this is her feeble and laughable attempt to go unrecognizable. Delusional, if you ask me.

That's actually a mosquito bite on my cheek. What pimple?!

Izzatul is looking outside the window, secretly wishing that a blue fairy would come and assist her in comprehending the endless slides. Like Hidayati, she is delusional, too.

We are supposed to be revising on CALL for our test tomorrow, but as you can see, taking pictures is a hell lot more fun than reading slides!

Dear God, bless our overworked brains and lazy souls. Amen.

What Holds Us Back?

2011-04-02T22:28:00.001+08:00

A few days back, instead of working on my thesis, I spent my evening watching Desperate Housewives. You see, I have always loved the comedy-drama series. I am a big fan of Teri Hatcher and Felicity Huffman who play Susan and Lynette respectively on the show. The episode that I watched on that day entitled 'Distant Past' and it started with these wonderful lines:

"We think of the past as water under the bridge. A current that carries away the mistakes of our youth. The love we lost. The addiction we gave in to. The opportunities we threw away. But sooner or later, reminders drift back into our lives, of the mistakes we made and the sins we committed. The mistakes of our past have a way of drifting back into our lives".

Essentially, these beautiful lines answer one big question in my speech today which is: what are the things we need to let go in our lives? Or in simpler words, what holds us back? Although male-female relationship has been a dominant substance in our discussion for Women in Literature class this semester, there are actually several other issues that entail letting go.

Fellow friends,

Perhaps, the most personally accessible issue when we talk about what holds us back is to get rid of the bitter memories of our past failed affairs and relationships with our other half, or so you thought they were. It can be someone that left you for the painfully overused reason: irreconcilable differences. It can be your first love that time just cannot erase. Sadly, unrequited love it was. Miss Brill from the story Miss Brill by Katherine Mansfield is the first imagine that comes into my mind. You see, the story beautifully puts across one crucial point: no matter how far you run, the memory of that someone special will always be there, unless you learn to let it go. It can be someone dear to your heart, the one that loved you so much and you loved nothing less, but God took them away from you and you have been dwelling on the memories ever since, perpetually wishing that they could come back and tell you that it was nothing but a terrible, terrible nightmare. Just like when Kathy is forced to accept the reality that Tommy will no longer be by her side and that she has to learn to let it go in the great novel Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro.

Fellow friends,

The second thing that prevalently holds us back is perhaps the mistakes that we once committed and ugly truths that we have been trying to hide. I suppose most of us wish we could say this: I have had no regrets. The truth is, no matter how perfect we claim our lives to be, or how happy we have been, we can't stop thinking of this one particular mistake or this one ugly truth, and how we dream and wish we could go back, make it right and amend it. The bad news is, we can't. The mistakes and terrible truths will keep haunting and keeping us awake in the middle of the night. I suppose Guy wishes he could turn back to the day when he had that one affair with the Malay woman and undo it in the story The Force of Circumstance by Somerset Maugham. But we all know and he knows he can't, so he tries to bury it instead of dealing with it. And when you try to bury your past mistake instead of dealing with it to be able to let it go, you know it will come back to you, sooner or later, one way or another. Just like Juliana Omer and the ugly truth that she has been trying to seal shut in the story Woman from Hell by Nor Faridah Abdul Manaf.

Fellow friends,

The last thing that holds us back is perhaps our persistence to hold on to that one moment in time when opportunity was right in your grip yet you let it slip away. Have you ever been in this situation when you tell yourself "I wish I could have" so many times you end up feeling remorse and sorry for yourself? That you swear yourself under the sun for letting that one moment in time opportunity slip away? Well, here is the good news. You are not alone. Indeed, it is a bless when you realize the wasted opportunity as it will make you alert to never let it slip again, but it becomes a curse when you keep looking back at the closed doors and are oblivious to the ones that are open before you. It takes Steven several years to finally realize how he has wasted an opportunity to lead a good life with Miss Kenton, a lady who was once so in love with him in the thought-provoking novel, Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. But as the stranger he meets at the end of his journey says "The evening is the best part of the day. You have done your day's work. It's time to put your feet up and enjoy it".

Fellow friends,

Like any of you, I also have that one person that was once and still is so dear to my heart. Deep down, there is this one mistake that still keeps me awake at night, the ugly truth that I keep unrevealed and the wasted chance I wish I had not taken for granted. But I know, at some point in my life, I have to let them go. What are the repercussions of not letting go? My friend Yuslina Badrum will only too very pleased to share that with you.

Fellow friends,

The episode of Desperate Housewives that I watched that day ended with these lines:

"The past is never truly behind us. Ghosts lurk in the shadows, eager to remind us of the choices we made. But if we look back, we might find an old friend with open arms, or an old enemy with a hidden agenda, or a grown-up son with a forgiving heart. Sadly, some of us refuse to look back, never understanding that by denying the past, we are condemned to repeat it".

Thank you.

(My speech for Women in Literature Conference, April 2, 2011. The speech above is based on several impromptu alterations on the day I delivered it).

Dear Farhan,

2011-04-01T17:00:00.005+08:00

I can't remember when exactly I met you for the first time.

But I do remember you were very cold towards me. Maybe because I was a new dude in the school. Okay, who am I kidding? I was a little cocky at first, I know. But you were not very nice, either! Hahaha. So I think it really took a while before we were eventually friends.

But I suppose the turning point was when we were put in the same dorm back in form 5. I think we really got close. You were so many 'someones' to me back then -you were my friend. You were my classmate. You were my dormmate and best of all, you were my bunkmate! I have never thanked you for sleeping soundly and with limited movement up there, or else I would have not been able to sleep tight at night. So yeah, thank you for that :)

Time has really flown, hasn't it, mate?

We met each other when we were both 16, and today you're officially 23. Seven years, mate. It has been seven effing years since I first came to that school as a newbie with swollen eyes and red nose and the biggest sulk on my face. And how much we have grown up and left all those years behind.

But not the memories.

So on this auspicious day of yours, I would like to wish you a very happy birthday. I just want to let you know that I have been so really proud to be your friend, every second of the past seven years and I mean every word of it. And honesty, how many people have the privilege to say that about someone that have not met for years? Farhan that I knew was a bubbly, jolly lad who would crack a joke with a poker face. Hehehe. And I believe you still are. Honestly mate, who would have thought that we would remain friends up to this day? This is really a feat, you know.

You are now 23, but I swear to God I would refuse to receive any wedding invitation from you just yet! Hahaha. Enjoy your youth to the fullest, mate. Don't be afraid to go out and explore the world and see what it has to offer. You're a brilliant bloke. Never stop learning as a man and I pray that you will eventually meet someone whom you see yourself settling down with. Someone who will accept you warts and all. Never count the years, mate. Count the blessing God has given you.

Then you will always be thankful and content.

p/s: Don't ask me how I got that picture of yours. I have my ways :)

For a Good Cause

2011-03-25T15:40:00.000+08:00

anyone kind enough to buy this for me? I am broke.

A Bunch of Seers is on the Loose!

2011-03-18T13:08:00.002+08:00

Tomorrow is a big day!

If you have been friends with me on Facebook, you might have noticed that for the past week I have been posting quotations with the word 'SEE' capitalized as my statuses. Many have been wondering (and if you're my TESL buddy, of course you have not) the reasons that I have been inundating their Facebook with those SEE things.

Guess what? It's our seminar tomorrow!

Organizing a professional seminar is one of the prerequisite assessments for Professional Development subject that I am taking this semester. My final semester as a TESL student, insyaAllah. Group A (A-Team) and B (The Beavers) have conducted theirs, and this coming Saturday is our turn (Group C) to organize the seminar.

I cannot tell much, but hopefully everyone will learn something from the seminar to help us develop as a professional once we have graduated (and why do I sound so formal? urgh!). I have been very happy with my team. We have re-branded ourselves as "SEERS".

Don't know what it means? Go and get a dictionary! Haha!

We have been working together so hard and so closely to make sure we will pull this off. And hopefully we will, insyaAllah. Curious to know what SEE stands for? Come to our seminar! But my advise would be, come as an empty bottle. No expectation. No judgment. And hopefully we will all learn something new tomorrow.

Dear Seers, I have been very proud of us, with everything that we have done. We have come this far, so let us get it done once and for all tomorrow!

P/S: I am a See®, are you? :)

Cheesy Mode

2011-03-06T16:19:00.000+08:00

p/s: It's too much to bear, at times.

Woman from Hell

2011-02-22T16:14:00.001+08:00

"You're adopted, honey".

It was like the world came crushing down on me. Those words were loud enough to my ears, yet no utterances of four worlds had ever been so vague in my life. So hard for me to swallow, and even harder for my brain to decipher.

I felt angry. I felt betrayed. I felt sad. And with those four words, I could feel an attachment was snapped out somewhere in my body. I was immediately disconnected. The world which once was so familiar felt so strange and distant, as if I had never been here all along. "Am I am dreaming?".

Without me realizing, tears streamed down my face.

It was years after this revelation, when I finally let my guard down for one man I trusted and loved, God took him away from me. When I tried to put my past behind me and give life another go, believing that happiness would eventually come. And even for that little bit of happiness I yearned for, God thought I wasn't deserving enough.

But that was yesterday.

If hell is what is destined for me, I will live through it. People can throw my way those questioning, demeaning looks, but I will not budge an inch. I will keep this one secret safely with me, buried with me on the day I die. They can never ridicule me. They can never tear me apart. I swear I will keep this one secret seamlessly veiled, whatever it takes.

Even if it means stabbing someone right at the heart with a gleaming knife, and watching them spluttering blood, screeching in pain and slowly, excruciatingly dying.

My answer in response to the instruction "Rewrite the story from Juliana's point of view - use the first person point of view" for the short story '"Woman from Hell" by NF Abdul Manaf in Women in Literature class, February 22, 2011.

Clash of the Divas

2011-02-19T16:52:00.009+08:00

So you have probably heard by now how Christina Aguilera brilliantly goofed up America's national anthem before a massive crowd at the Super Bowl last February 6. Too bad she fucked it up on my birthday. Having watched the video, I must therefore come clean that it was not a joy at all straining my ears to an over-sung national anthem. Still haven't got a picture? Then imagine Dayang Nurfaizah singing Negaraku with her trademark over-the-top trail after each line, and forgetting the line "Rahmat Bahagia, Tuhan Kurniakan" along the way. That's how horridly horrendous it was.

But make no mistake, folks. Christina proves why she deserves every bit of "the voice of her generation" accolade bestowed upon her in her ferociously breathtaking feature film debut, Burlesque.

Having grown completely weary of her dismal, stagnant life as a bartender at a small town in Iowa, Alice Rose, abbreviated as Ali (Christina Aguilera) packs her bag and heads on to the glamorous city of Los Angeles, hoping against hope that she could shine as a singer. The desire leads her to Burlesque, a small club "having no windows but the best view on the Sunset Strip", which she stumbles upon by sheer coincidence after a long, unfruitful day. She immediately falls in love with the whole concept of Burlesque and implores Tess (Cher), a lady who runs the club, to give her a chance to prove herself. Tess dismissively laughs the request off, until Ali gets on the stage uninvited during an audition held to discover new dancers for Burlesque, and Tess realizes - although still unconvinced - that a star, destined for greatness, has just been born and could be the answer to the problems the club is facing.

When Burlesque started with Christina Aguilera singing whatever song that was, I knew immediately that it was going to be a long, long, long night in a cabaret and that I was in for something spectacular for the next two hours. I believe she silences all the critics saying that there's nothing left in her apart from her vocal prowess. Her acting might not as close as raking up an Academy accolade, but for someone whose breakthrough originated from a recording studio, Burlesque is more than a good acting debut. And needless to say, her singing performances in it were simply terrific and utterly jaw-dropping. The numbers like 'Express', 'But I am a Good Girl' and 'Show Me How You Burlesque' were just unbelievable and stunningly entertaining, but I am particularly fond of the number that earned her a Golden Globe nomination, the power ballad 'Bound to You'. Good God, it was beyond amazing. In fact, I have been listening to it (and singing along just to annoy my housemates) all day long now.

And as if having Christina in it is not adequately engrossing, Burlesque presents us a living legend and timeless diva, Cher. Well, talking about 'Clash of the Divas'.

Oh, God. Cher. Do we even require an introduction to this lady? And do we even need prove why she is as big a person as she has always been? Evidently Burlesque is a platform for Cher not only for her comeback, but to remind all the upcoming actors and actresses out there that this is how you pull off your character in a big screen, not just undressing yourselves and getting undressed. She was egoistic, she was strong-willed, she was intimidatingly overbearing, self-righteous and underestimating and best of all, she was a full-fledged diva - all the characteristics befittingly associated with Tess. And that's not all, folks. Her power ballad performance "You Haven't Seen the Last of Me" is set to send shivers down your spine - as it did to me. It was emotional and provocatively inspiring all the same. And true enough, the number earned her a Golden Globe for Best Original Song, the same category "Bound to You" was nominated in.

And look, the review is getting longer and longer so I must stop here. But I feel obliged to urge you to grab your car key and drive away to the nearest cinema for this unbelievably entertaining movie. Or take a cab or a bus or a train or whatever that can get you there. And be wrong not, Burlesque is not all about dancing and singing. The storyline is well-crafted, the script is flat-out hilarious and worth quoting and all the characters are adorable. If boys have their share in the film (you've got to watch the movie to know what I mean), then ladies, be delighted for you have the gorgeous Eric Dane and Cam Gigandet that will most definitely get your heart racing. So it's a win-win situation.

As for me, Burlesque is definitely one of the most entertaining movies I have ever seen to date and have the greatest pleasure reviewing. And when a film makes it on my blog, it is a giveaway just how much I love it that I am in no power to restrain myself from sharing and writing about it, hoping that my readers out there (if any! hehehe) will feel the same amount of excitement that I do. I remember that half way through the movie, I turned to my friend who was sitting next to me and said:

"I am so going to watch this for the second time". And you'd better bet I will :)

On the scale: 4.9/5

A Matter of Professionalism

2011-02-15T06:18:00.007+08:00

I would be the last person to talk about professionalism in teaching.

But when I watched the videos featuring 'cikgu' Shida on Youtube, I could not help but ask 'Is it really necessary to go to such length?". Heck, I cannot even bring myself to embed any of the videos here on my blog. For those who have never even harked about her prior, cikgu Norshida Abd Aziz, prevalently known as Cikgu Shida, is an English teacher at Sekolah Rendah Pulau Padang, Bota, Perak. She is an overnight Youtube sensation for her multiple videos miming and lip-syncing songs by popular local and international artists. In one of her interviews on one national TV channel, she revealed that one of the drives propelling the creation of the videos was as a means to attract students' attention and foster interests in music subject, something that she was made to teach in the school despite her having no academic background of it.

The pivotal question is, how will it affect the professionalism in teaching?

Although the only teaching experience that I have had so far is from my three-month practicum stint, I can say that the experience sufficiently qualifies me to assess teaching as a daunting and both mentally and physically draining profession. As if teaching the students coming from different socio-economic backgrounds and having various learning abilities and paces is not challenging enough, teachers in school are also bogged down with countless administrative work and perpetual co-curricular activities throughout the year. Yet, despite all these, teachers are expected to remain dedicated and devoted to their core business in schools - to teach.

Getting the students to sit and listen for at least forty minutes in class has been one of the most challenging parts in the teaching profession. Many scholars believe that one of the first steps towards students' positive engagement in classroom activities is by making the teacher's characters likable to the students. Perhaps, this is where the ideas of the videos stem from. Nevertheless, publishing the videos on public video-sharing website is simply out of the question (and line). Cikgu Shida might have never intended it for public viewing in the first place (as some have stated that she uploads the videos for her students), but it has obviously reached out to the publics.

And now that it has, we must ask ourselves "How will the publics now view the teaching profession?".

Years ago, as cliche as it might sound, teaching was a highly respectable profession. The mass society regarded the profession with complete reverence, as they could see the need for education to better their standard of living and to foster moral conducts among the young. The teachers were always seen as role models to the students, and the teachers were proud to display just how much the right role models they were, as expected by the society. All these could have been the very reasons why notorious and malignant cases involving students were unheard of at that time. The students revered the teachers because the parents did too with utter conviction and without questions, and this was down to the fact that the teachers's general demeanors were admirable and they set the best and worth emulating examples.

Fast forward twenty years later, pretty much everything has happened in schools, expected and beyond.

I am not going to rant on every malevolent case in schools, but I would like to share my perspective on the situation of cikgu Shida. The process is simple: she puts recorder/webcam before her, lip-syncs some songs, uploads the videos on Youtube, the students watch it, and they have a good laugh. And my question is, where do we go from here? What do we do after having a good laugh, seeing our teacher making a show out of herself on the world's most popular video-sharing website? And to think that she's teaching the primary kids, the jewels and foundation of our nation. The ones who will grow up to be the leaders of tomorrow. Is this precisely what we want them to see and emulate? If teachers, the ones who are supposed to be looked up to apart from their parents, are behaving in such a way, can we blame them if they grow up believing that recording yourself singing and making a fool out of yourself and uploading the videos on the internet is perfectly normal and acceptable?

What's wrong with performing or singing in front of your students in music rooms and keep it perfectly academic and private there? That you can just leave everything in the music rooms once the class ends?

Cikgu Shida, in her defense, might be saying that it is for pure enjoyment, both for the students and for herself, but she has, consciously or otherwise, put the professionalism in teaching in severe jeopardy. She, as a professional government servant (the moment she took the oath as a teacher), should know better than anyone else, that we abide by certain codes of ethics that reflect and carry the good name of this one of the oldest professions in the history of mankind. Again, in her defense, she might be saying that this is to build good rapport with the students, but then again, any average educator can tell you that there should be a clear line between teachers and students to ensure that the students will maintain a certain level of reverence to the teachers, regardless how closely attached they might be to one another. In her defense, she might be saying that the orthodox ways of teaching are no longer efficient and effective, but there are many teachers out there who have never been on Youtube, but their former students keep coming back and saying "Terima Kasih, Cikgu", as the ultimate sign of reverence for a teacher, for their never-ending belief in the ability of the students to achieve, more than they thought they could do.

If age is an indication, then naturally I can devise far more engaging and least orthodox teaching approaches integrating the most recent technology out there, since I am more widely exposed to the technology, and the fact that I am closer to the students, in terms of age gap, but I still believe in the power of upholding a positive and admirable facade as a teacher.

Yes, I'm calling it a facade.

For I am well aware that each person has a different side, and teachers are no exception to that. Teachers are neither gods nor goddesses. Outside the school hours, they would love to loosen up. They would love to go for a movie. they would love to go out and have a go at a song or two. Like everyone else out there, they would love to do just about everything. But the key to this is that, this life should be kept private. And once teachers step into the school compound, (and out of duty as educators) they should feel obliged to pull out the best facade up the sleeves, in hope that the students will have the best characters in front of them that they can model themselves after. It doesn't mean that teachers should be fearsome and punchline-proof. Teachers should be authoritative, not authoritarian. Teachers should be lenient, not rigid. And how in this leniency, students will find the greatest respect for and affection towards the teachers.

I remember one time during my practicum days, my students were literally dozing off soundly when I stepped into the classroom around 1pm. It was hilarious at the fact that before I entered the classroom, the previous teacher wished me "good luck". Then I knew what it was supposed to mean. I could have scolded them, I could have asked them to stand on their chairs until the last bell rang, I could have done so many typical, burnout teachers would do. But I didn't. It was well in my knowledge that the students were beyond exhausted after a long day in school, and it didn't help either the fact that it was during fasting month. Instead, I made a deal with the students. I told them that they could listen to and sing along with all my English songs in my phone, if they promised to copy down everything that I would write on the board.

All of them were immediately wide awake, copying everything down while singing along to the songs played.

It was one of the best days during my stint as a practicum English teacher.

On numerous occasions, I allowed my students to list down several songs that they would like to sing in class, but the final verdict would be in my hand. I would make sure the songs chosen were not only enjoyable, but also contained good lyrics and language components that I could teach. In those three months, the students and I sang numerous songs from several artists including Michael Jackson, Simple Plan, Justine Bieber and even the theme song of the famous cartoon, Bob the Builder. The students enjoyed the lesson so very much, but as much as the success of the lessons flattered me, I knew I should leave everything in the classroom and that I should remain respectable to the students with certain level of connectedness.

You see, I am not anti-changing in teaching, but I believe certain traits and comportments closely linked to the profession should remain intact and uncompromisable to ensure that the teaching profession will again achieve the pinnacle it once enjoyed.

It deeply saddens me upon reading what cikgu Shida has written on her Facebook page, which goes to say "Pedulikan apa orang nak kata! Kau boleh?". Imagine what a mess this world would be if everyone lost their judgement and were as free to do just about everything without foreseeing the repercussion it could inflict upon the society. In fact, I presume those two lines represent the attitude of the young today, and how ignorant they are towards the consequences of their actions. It saddens me to the fact that, she's not just another lady on the street. She's not uneducated. She's a respectable woman. She's a teacher. If she had written her name as "Shida" or "Singing Shida", then I would not have minded. But what is written starts with a dignified title, and certain social roles and moral conducts are immediately expected to shine from you the moment people say it. I hope she would soon realize that it's not just another honour.

It comes with great responsibilities.

How Glee Has Taken It's Toll on Me

2011-02-10T01:44:00.004+08:00

1. Been watching season 2. And while waiting for the next episode being uploaded, I do rerun of the episodes from the first season.

2. Been surfing YouTube, watching interviews, behind the scenes, video clips, acceptance speeches and just about everything Glee-related.

3. Been googling for online written articles, Glee Wiki, spoilers, reviews, blogs and even gossips.

4. Been downloading all the covers, converting them into MP3 format and putting them in an MP3 player I bought yesterday (which cost me a fortune), just to ensure that I can listen to them wherever I go.

5. Downloaded Glee-related pictures, put them in one specific folder and turned them into my wallpapers, and the picture changes every 10 seconds. One wallpaper for different character.

6. Been following a few of the main actors and actresses on Twitter.

7. This is the first time in the history of my blog I post entries about Glee consecutively.

p/s: I'm a Glee addict. I seriously am. In dire need to see a doctor to fix this!

Fall in Love All Over Again

2011-02-03T17:22:00.016+08:00

Before the Astro connection in our rented house got cut off, I had been an incurable Gleek.

Which simply means, a big, big, big fan of Glee. I remember watching its premiere on Star World (since Fox was not a part of Astro yet at that time, and I'm not too sure if Fox airs it for its Asian broadcast now), and I was hooked on straight away; right there and then. It was nothing like I had ever seen, and sure enough, it was an immediate success worldwide. The gleeful cast, the gleeful songs and the even more gleeful storyline, it was like little parts of puzzles that come together to make one perfect combination. Ever since, Glee has been nominated for and racked up multiple awards including Emmy and Golden Globe. The series's theme song, Don't Stop Believin', has been one of the most downloaded digital songs on iTune.

And guess what? I am officially back as a Gleek!

Thanks to mid semester break that I'm having now, I've been watching Glee online for the past few days. If Astro thinks they can stop me from watching it, then screw them! It was a struggle at first, I admit, since most websites that I checked would only allow the viewing if I were in the United States, but obviously I didn't throw in the towel. I kept googling until I stumbled upon this cool website that wasn't prejudice to us Asians and I have been watching Glee season 2 online on the website ever since!

And if anyone tells you that the second season sucks, slap them across the face for it doesn't!

If anything, it has been better than ever. I seriously haven't got an idea how far they have broadcasted the second season on TV, but currently I'm watching episode 10 "The Very Glee Christmas" which is awesome! Clearly there have been so many things I have been missing out on during my 'glee hiatus', but I guess I'm catching up real fast! Apart from watching it online, I have been listening to their latest numbers all day long on Youtube and there are plenty that I'm quite fond of, including Umbrella-Singin' in the Rain, Last Christmas, Baby It's Cold Outside, Forget You, Marry You, Just The Way You Are and of course, the one threatening to take down Glee's theme song as the most downloaded song in the series, Teenage Dream by the latest insertion in Glee, Darren Criss. And ladies out there, I feel obliged to warn you that he's gonna make you melt like ice!

But those covers are not the sole reason why I took the risk to be a Gleek again when I have been making little progress with my thesis. The second season promises heavier and much, much more engaging themes, and I can assure you that everyone will find something that they can relate to in their lives on the show. It addresses complexity in relationships, adolescence, self-acceptance, bullying, sexuality and the eternal chagrin of being splashed with a cup of Slushie. Hahaha. And remember Sue Sylvester? She is meaner, bolder and more evil than ever before and I must say she alone makes Glee worth watching. Irrefutably one of the X factors on the show. How I wish I could inherit her villainy and quick-witted tongue! And there's this episode when she pretends to be a Santa with a green face and does something really, really terrible to the Glee club. Okay, I'm not going to spoil anything further.

And I would like to congratulate Glee for winning Golden Globe last January including Best Television Series - Musical or Comedy (two years in a row now, mind you). But best of all, I'm so very happy for Jane Lynch (the one who is playing Sue Sylvester. You do realize that she's got a real name, don't you?) and Chris Colfer (the guy playing Kurt Hummel on the show. Yes, mate, that's his real name) for winning the Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress and Best Supporting Actor respectively. And I love their acceptance speeches too!

So yes, I'm pretty much in love with Glee, all over again ;)

Little Step

2011-01-29T21:17:00.011+08:00

The spotlights were switched on.

There he was, sitting on a high stool with a guitar at the centre of the stage. Before him, thousands of fans were calling his name out loud, yelling and screaming in utter admiration. He was adored. He was idolized. He was glorified. It was a life everyone around him could only dream of having. Yet he was living it for real. With a single move of his finger across his guitar, the fans went crazy. They wept. They sang along. They breathed and lived for his music.

The fame and fortune that he owned - they were unprecedented.

But what his admiring fans were oblivious to was that, it was exactly both fame and fortune that suffocated him. What an extremely ironic life he was leading - surrounded by flocks of fans and admirers, yet he had never been lonelier at any phase in his life. There was no one he could talk to. No one would listen. No one would understand. Yes, no one would understand that behind his vivacious facade and infectious, blithe music, he was a man with lugubrious soul, chaotic and in constant search for spiritual fulfillment.

Then a devine revelation was upon him. In 1976, he encountered a life changing event when he was drifted into the depth of Malibu coast, and while he was trying to keep his head above the raging tide, he thought of God and bargained "Oh God, if You save me, I will work for You". In that instant, he was washed ashore. Soon after, the world was in shock.

Cat Stevens walked away from music industry at the height of his career.

Sitting at home all day with nothing in my hands, I surfed Youtube on pure random and I stumbled upon a few of his music videos when he was young, carefree and vibrant. I had heard about him hitherto. About his brilliant music. About his miraculous spiritual odyssey. But today, I spent almost 37 minutes watching his exclusive interview about his transition from a celebrated pop star into a devout philanthropist.

Staring at the screen, and listening through earphones attached to either side of ears, I was mesmerized and immediately found great shame in me.

Every day, I work hard to emerge triumphant in everything I do by imagining what the future might hold for me should everything work accordingly. Big house. Big car. Big paycheck. Happier me. And while I do try my best to keep all the five obligatory prayers intact, deep down I know I that haven't really done them perfectly. That while performing my prayers, I still get distracted by worldly matters: things that happened before, obligations and work to be done after. But here is this man, leaving fame and fortune to glorify God. He talks about modesty and happiness it brings.

"People thought I was mad when I stopped being Cat Stevens the rock star - but I have never been happier", he said, now worldwidely known as Yusuf Islam.

Watching his inspiring video today makes me ponder "Where do I go from here?". Without doubt, I want to be successful in my life. It's even one of the most profound teachings in Islam, to never abandon worldly matters in pursuit of happiness for the hereafter. But I realize that my fight has been lopsided, that I have put my priority heavier on the things that are temporary in nature. Things that will not last when this world comes to its end and when the day of judgement is eventually upon me.

I am terrified. I am terrified of being drifted away and drowned in faux happiness.

A change for betterment is never easy but insyaAllah I'll try. It's a winding road ahead. Many of Yusuf Islam fans turned their back on him when he took a different path in life, but he has never regretted his decision. It has never even crossed his mind. As a man of different faith that he was before, he admits that the revelation that he was bestowed upon was hard. But as a line in his famous song "Father and Son" goes, "It's harder to ignore it".

I am inspired, and may Allah open my heart to take a little step to be a devout servant of His.

Crack Up

2011-01-28T18:50:00.002+08:00

It's been a while since the last time I uploaded, or embedded to be precise, a video here.

Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal that I know (by watching and intense reading, of course) are two greatest tennis players of their generation and perhaps, of all time. When they are on court, it's the grim facade that they always put up for fans to see, determined, murderous and I-mean-business looks on their faces. And when they are facing each other across the net, you can be sure that they are there to kill, figuratively. But damn it! Who in the hell knows that they can also laugh like a little child being tickled? This one is so frigging hilarious I swear it's gonna hurt your stomach!

p/s: They look so cute together! :D

Unspoken Rule

2011-01-26T21:36:00.002+08:00

My first phone was stolen when I was 17. I was in my final year at school, when one day I woke up and realized that the phone which I had kept in my pencil case the night before, was gone. It was Saturday, our outing day. But when the news broke out, nobody was allowed to go out. The whole boys dormitory was alerted to search for my lost phone. A few hours later, my lost phone was retrieved, and the culprit was my junior, who had been very close to me. I would have never suspected him, because he had been very kind to me. Thus when my flared-up-and-ready-to-punch seniors asked me what to do with the poor, terrified boy, I told them to let him go.

They beat him up, and I could hear him screaming in severe pain a few rooms away from my dormitory.

I stuffed my ears to block out his cries.

You see, I hate conflicts. I hate getting into fights. I hate pulling faces for silly reasons. I'd rather let go and make things go back to the way they were. Because I know a little too well that, once we are trapped in conflicts, things would never be the same. That was what happened after the stealing. My junior wouldn't look me in the eyes no matter what I did to tell him that I didn't hold anything against him, that I had long since forgiven him. That's what conflicts do to humans. They tear us apart. They damage the bonds.

And the damage is much worse when those involved in the conflict used to be friends.

I know I might have not been the best person out there to become a friend. At times, I can be self-righteous. I can be a complete pain in the arse and a total asshole. I've got a jinxed tongue, and I often annoy people with it.

But when my friends cry, I'll try to sweep the tears even though I know I can never truly feel the pain. When my friends are in need, I'll try to offer anything in my capacity to lessen the grief. When my friends need me to be by their side, I'll try the hardest to be there and let them know that I'll always be there through the goods and the bads. Because I know, sooner or later, the dark clouds would be above my head too, if not today.

Friendship, like anything good and important, is not easy. It's hard to get a friend you can easily call 'a friend', and it's harder to maintain a friendship once it has been established. Like a flower, it has to be watered for it to blossom. That's why, no matter how occupied I might be, I feel obliged to spare a few minutes with my friends. People with the most fundamental common sense would tell you that it's an unspoken rule in friendship.

And spending time with friends does not require 100 bucks. You can just sit with a bunch of friends at mamak stall, grab a glass of hot coffee and chat away. You can share how bad the day has been, or the boring lectures or even the hot gossip circling around. And the fact that we are all given 24 hours a day makes us all equal. Of course, things happen along the way but it isn't an excuse for not being able to be there for your friends all the time.

And we are all normal human beings. After being turned down a little too frequent, a time will come when you tell to yourself "that's it". What is the point of keep offering when you have been turned down so many times to the point that you can't even remember the last time you were together? Can't even remember the last meal you had together? And worse, you can't even remember the last effort you friend made to spare time for you? And the words of endearment that are supposed to represent close bonds are now just empty words.

It makes you sick. It makes you sick to the pit of your stomach you feel like vomiting. And it makes you sad knowing that you used to be very close. The laugher you used to share is now a passing familiarity. It's slowly dying. And the worst thing that can happen between two friends is when one day you see your friend and this thought creeps into your mind and you say -

"God. I don't know you anymore".

Peninsular Tour - Pre Graduation Wishlist

2011-01-24T02:34:00.005+08:00

1. Perlis

2. Kedah

3. Pulau Pinang

4. ~~Perak~~

5. Kelantan

6. Terengganu

7. ~~Pahang~~

8. ~~Selangor~~

9. ~~Negeri Sembilan~~

10. ~~Melaka~~

11. Johor

Have I ever told you this one wishlist of mine, in which I intend to tour the whole peninsular of Malaysia before I graduate? Seeing that I am a Sabahan and there's a fat chance I might find it difficult to get here as often after graduation made me jump out of bed one day and come up with this wishlist.

Just got back from Negeri Sembilan a couple of hours ago. It was an amazing, amazing trip and I had a bunch of fun! So as you can see up there, it's the latest state with a long dash on top of it! (wait. How can you tell which is which? Silly me!). If everything holds, roughly I've got four months left before I complete my study, and there are 6 states left that I have never been to. I will make it.

I will make it, insyaAllah ;)

p/s: I don't think Selangor should be on the list, if you know what I mean!

I am a Twat

2011-01-21T23:21:00.008+08:00

I've been on Twitter on a lot more than Facebook lately.

I don't know, maybe I just want a quieter place. Facebook has been so suffocating of late. Most of the time I log on Facebook with a good mood. Wanting to know what's going on with my fellow friends out there. What's latest. What's been circling around. A little gossip would be nice at times, just to elevate the mood a little higher. Just want to be a little happier.

But more often than not, very quickly I find myself in a huff and utterly disgusted.

So I log out.

I know it's up to people what they want to write as their status on Facebook. After all, it's their accounts, not mine. But come on. Have a little bit of common sense. Take a pity on other users who happen to be your friends. Do you really think people would die if they didn't know that someone was trying to flirt with your girlfriend? And what makes you think posting that as your status would be a cool act? To show that your girlfriend is so pretty that everyone else out there is vying to get her attention but fails, and her love is only for you because you're so jaw-dropping, goddamn gorgeous?

Get.a.freaking.life.like.seriously.

I don't know, guys. Maybe it's just me. Maybe it's just me in on of my moods. But I believe there are things worth keeping all to yourself. What I mentioned above is just one of the most wtf statuses I have ever, unfortunately come across on Facebook. There are lots more, I swear to great God. Maybe these people should have a blog. I mean, blogs are more private. People have no obligations to come and read, and once they do, it's at their own risk thus they must bear the consequences of reading something unpleasant. It's definitely none of the blogger's fault.

Maybe that's the reason why I created my own blog in the first place.

Because I know, that there are things I want to let out every now and again, and these things happen to be something that nobody gives a shit about. So I let them flow out into words and it makes me feel better each time. Whatever I can keep inside, I'll try to, and those that are beyond me, I encapsulate them into blog entries and bury them here.

Rather than shouting them out loud on Facebook and make other people feel crappy. Haven't these people ever heard that never tell anyone your problems? Why, 20% people don't care and 79% people are glad you have them. Only 1% people will try to help you, and this includes your parents and true friends.

So turn to your parents. Talk to them. Or let your true friends know. Maybe they can't help much, but it will make you feel better. Or better still, create a blog. It's frigging free.

So that pretty much justifies why I've been twittering a lot more these days. As you might have noticed, I don't have lots of friends on Twitter, but I am cool that way. I seriously am. I follow people that I think would not be a prick, and I am happy.

In fact, I think I am happier.

So if you think you wouldn't be a pain in the arse, you're allowed to follow me on Twitter :)

I Feel Home :)

2011-01-21T01:56:00.013+08:00

My friends and I stood there at the TGV Counter, stunned with what we had just done - we had just gambled 14 bucks on a Cantonese film. If my memory serves me correctly, the last non-Malay/English film that I caught on the big screen was Me...Myself, a 2007 Thai romantic drama film starred by the the tall, dark and handsome Ananda Everingham. But Cantonese film? Boy it was back in 2006, Rob-B-Hood to be exact, starred by Jackie Chan and Louis Koo. Simply put: it has been absolute years. And had it not been due to the fact that I had watched most of the films now showing on cinema, I wouldn't have gambled on a Cantonese movie.

And I would have missed one really, really good local film.

As in my previous entries written on films, I won't even attempt to peel off the film layer after layer, or to criticize and comment on the actings and things like that. As I have stated a little too frequent, I'm just an avid movie-goer who loves to see movies and know that my money has been worth spent on. And this is exactly the movie that even if I were asked to pay 18 bucks, I would not even think twice.

I do not want to spoil anything, since I believe most of you have not seen it. After all, the movie just debuted on the big screen on last Wednesday. But if there's something worth spoiling, it would be the fact that you would love, love and just love it. Imagine this, the moment we stepped into the cinema, it was all clear to my friends and I that we were the only non-Chinese watching it. Even as we were scurrying to get settled on our seats, we could feel questioning eyes following us. Left, right, front and back, we were cornered by Chinese crowd.

And to add to that oddity, the three of us laughed the loudest throughout.

Oh boy, it's a wonderful, wonderful movie. There's a strong cultural element in it that would be appealing to those who appreciate our one of a kind diversity. As one of the lines in the film goes "1 Malaysia, mah!". And in case you haven't noticed, Afdlin Shauki is up there on the poster! The script has clearly been given well thoughts, as it comes out authentic and so very close and dear to our heart. And there's this magnificent accomplishment in cinematography in the film. If only more, more and more local films are like this.

But of course, nothing compares to a film woven with messages. Although the film is about an odyssey of a mother and a son going back for Reunion Dinner on the Chinese New Year's eve and all the incidents that they encounter on the way, the messages are uniquely universal and thus it caters to all audience regardless the difference that we have in colours.

If you want a vibrant, 'upside-down' film that does not involve hideous ghosts, loud gun fire and amorous smooching and snuggling acts, give this movie a go. It promises thunderous laughter, mind-blowing stunts, a rare tinge of patriotism and beautiful heart-tugging scenes. 14 bucks may sound a little over the budget, but like I said, give it a go. Have a little faith in this one rare local film. Be afraid not.

Even if you are the only Malay sitting in the cinema, accompanied by a small cup of coke and popcorn, and hundreds of disbelieving eyes :)

On the scale: 4.5/5

CALL Blog

2011-01-20T16:24:00.007+08:00

For those who have got a blog and have been blogging for quite some time, they will tell you maintaining one is not as easy as it seems. Unless they pay their bills by blogging and literally earning a living by doing that. But for casual bloggers like me, penning a single entry can take ages - figuratively. What with piles of assignments pending and waiting, lectures to attend and everything else in between, blogging is the last thing in your mind. Think I'm lying? Glance sideway and look for yourself at my fellow bloggers! One of them has not scribbled anything for a frigging year! A YEAR! Hahaha. Sorry, Najihah :)

So, the thought of having a new blog just doesn't sit well with me.

But it's not for me to choose. It's part of the the requirements for one of my final semester subjects; TSL641 Computer Assisted Language Learning (CALL) as I rambled on my previous entry. It's a subject to die for (ehem!) and I am literally on my feet to see the other assessments as the semester goes on. Can't wait to be working on Excel! It's just so exciting I can just sit in and look at it all day long - drooling (fainting is on top of the list, no doubt).

Okay, it's time to cut the crap. I don't have the energy to manage two blogs! Plus, I'm not as young as I used to be! All I want to do is sitting on a rocking chair and knitting.

But that's as far as my wishful thinking can and is allowed to go.

So to computer/technology freaks out there, rejoice, for you have got another avenue to keep freaking and pissing people like me off! Feel free to drop by my official blog for TSL641. This is the second address for my CALL blog, since the first one has been removed due to some stupid reason. But I have retained the cool name as you can see above! Click HERE.

Happy freaking!

One Moment in Time

2011-01-16T19:33:00.009+08:00

I knew I made you to come that night, but deep down I was surprised you did. I was surprised you risked yourself, and everything else that had kept us apart for the most part of the year. Our final year together. Even now, I'm not sure if you knew that it could have tarnished and hurt you had they found out our secret meeting that night. I wasn't afraid of anything that night. In fact, I had never been afraid of anything when it was you on the other side. Did I ever tell you back then that I liked to catch you alone? I loved it when there were only you and me for you would be yourself, the one that I knew exactly like the first day we met.

Just like that night.

In all honesty, I never knew I would ever be with you again. But that night, when I saw you walking towards me, and each step brought you nearer to me, I knew you just made my foolish, most imbecilic and childish wish come true. I felt like a terrified yet overwhelmed child, seeing Santa Clause right in front of him, after so many years wishing, wishing, wishing and wishing. But you made so many dreams of mine come true, just by being there, with me, that night.

You turned my life into a world I'd never imagined that night. A world devoid of forlornness. I had no intention to walk away. More than anything, I wanted to stay there, just with you. I wouldn't want to run, unless running would bring me closer to you.

That night, you made me the happiest man on earth. I had never laughed so much before. Your jokes were flat-out mindless, as they had always been. How someone with a poker face like you could crack a joke I would never know. But I did know I could listen to your stupid jokes all my life and just laugh my heart out. After all, you were the one who first made me feel 'home' there just by a single banter. You toned down the rage in me with all your silly jokes that you conjured up out of thin air. At times, I think to myself, how would it feel like to have you telling me all these lies while sitting on a wooden bench with the beautiful sound of waves crashing to the shore? With the stars falling all for us and the moon bathing down the light from above on us? Only you and me?

And the way you smiled that night. You smiled and laughed at your own jokes. Idiot. But that smile of yours, it would make Mona Lisa despise and curse herself.

How I wish I could tell you about the things I have done ever since. Fill you in on the things you have missed. Well, that's your loss. Not mine. Tell you how the very thought of you has helped me going through so much in my life. Those times when I felt like I could not go on. When I felt like everything around me came crushing down and falling apart. Those times when things were pitch black around me and I was lost and faltering on my knees. And I was so close to embracing defeats.

That was when I thought about that night that we had. I thought of you. Your silly jokes. Your infectious laughter. Your beautiful, beautiful smile. And I found the strengths I needed to pick up the pieces in my life, walk into the light and give it another go.

I miss you. I really, really miss you.

But that night, when we were together, deep down I knew.

I knew it would be for the last time.

Beautiful. Simply Beautiful.

2011-01-14T19:46:00.008+08:00

Now that I recollect, I did post an entry about the movie 'Never Let Me Go' somewhere last year when I knew that the award-winning novel had been adapted for silver screen. An avid fan of the novel that I have been since I first touched it, naturally I was beyond thrilled when the news about the adaptation being circulated. However, the excitement was short-lived when there were scarcely any indications about the film being screened here in Malaysia. I was deeply dejected, for it wasn't the first time movies that had been adapted from my all-time favorite novels didn't make it to local cinemas. Another case in point: P.S I Love you. One of my close friends, Michelle, was lucky though for she was in Singapore when P.S I Love You got viewing there while I ended up catching it just on my laptop screen. Just like last night for 'Never Let Me Go'.

The only difference is that, while P.S I Love You slightly let me down for its adaptation version, the film version of Never Let Me Go was amazingly, utterly and breathtakingly beautiful.

I am not going to tattle much, for I am out of words to describe just how beautiful the film is. Carry Mulligan, Keira Knightley and Andrew Garfield who play Kathy, Ruth and Tommy respectively displayed an exquisite and splendid acting to impersonate the three characters. It's so unbelievably alive and you can feel their laughter, tears, fears, hope and love as the film goes deeper and deeper and revealing the terrible truth in the end. Of course, there's no sudden and horrid truth for those who have read the novel, but the film is craftily adapted it makes you temporarily forget that you have read it before and all you want more than anything is to be taken and immersed deeper into the movie just to feel those emotions all over again. It's just unbelievable. Unbelievable.

So for those who haven't watched it, go, go, go and go. It's going to be so worthy of your time and everything that you ditch in between just to watch it. But for those who haven't read the novel, it is my painful duty to inform you that you will feel the film more if you have read the novel because of the complexity and heaviness of the themes and messages. But believe me, it will all pay off.

To Kazuo Ishiguro, thank you for the beautiful novel. I can never forget the good times that I had and all the raw emotions that felt while reading it that made me human and again the intense and thought-provoking discussions while learning the novel in one of my literature classes. And thank you for allowing it to be adapted into such a wonderful, wonderful piece of art. I am certain you would agree that they have done such a splendid job adapting it.

To Mark Romanek, thank you for adapting and directing the novel. Other directors must be envious of you, and they should be. You show that adapting does not require rigorous changes in the storyline. You honor the novel by staying true to its original plot and essence and messages, and you do not betray us, those who love the novel as the way it is.

Beautiful. Simply Beautiful.

On the Scale: 4.9/5

The Dash

2011-01-14T02:29:00.004+08:00

I read of a reverend who stood to speak

at the funeral of his friend.

he referred to the dates on her tombstone

from the beginning...to the end.

He noted that first came the date of her birth

and spoke of the following date with tears,

but he said what mattered most of all

was the dash between those years.

For that dash represents all the time

that she spent alive on earth...

and now only those who loved her

know what the little line is worth.

For it matters not, how much we own;

the cars...the house...the cash.

what matters is how we live and love

and how we spend our dash.

So think about this long and hard...

are there things you'd like to change?

for you never know how much time is left

(you could be at "dash mid-range.")

If we could just slow down enough

to consider what's true and real,

and always try to understand

the way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger,

and show appreciation more

and love the people in our lives

like we've never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect

and more often wear a smile...

remembering that this special dash

might only last a little while.

So, when your eulogy's being read,

with your life's actions to rehash...

would you be proud with the things they say

about how you spent your dash?

(Originally written by Linda Ellis, recited by my dear lecturer, Madam Lim Wai Fun in Women in Literature Class, January 13, 2011.)

Scarlet

2011-01-12T19:54:00.007+08:00

Meet Scarlet, guys :)

I know it's just so not me to name things. But when I got hold of my new laptop that looked scorching hot yesterday, I could not help but be overwhelmed. Hehehe. Maybe because I had to wait for almost a week for it to come into my possession. You heard it right, folks. I waited that long just to get it in red color, because they only had it in black when I came for the first time. Those who have known me well would not be surprised though, simply because I would never settle for less or just make do when I knew I could get exactly what I came for. And based on the philosophical perspectives in education (just learned this absolutely three days ago in Professional Development (PD) class, ehem!) that's a flat-out characteristic of an Existentialist!

Yeah, I can be quite selfish.

But if I could wait for 5 years to finally purchase a new laptop, why couldn't I wait for another week to get what I precisely wanted? Initially, I wished for a green-colored DELL. No particular reason behind it, it's just one day I watched this one actor on TV with a DELL in that color and I instantly wanted one. But it was out of availability, so I asked for red. I wouldn't go for black.

But 5 years, folks. 5 years it took me to let go of my beloved old Acer.

And guess what? Despite the fact that it has fallen and cracked and been trampled on (okay the last one has got an exaggeration flair) so many times I've lost count, It is still functioning. Would you believe that? But the screen can no longer stand still. The holders have broken that I need to lean it against something for it to stand upright every time. It can no longer detect wireless connection, it snails like a snail it really puts my patience to great test and just way too old to serve his master as good as it could few years ago. And had it not been for the bloody sake of my thesis, I would not have forked out my money on a brand new laptop. After all, the old Acer has served me well and it has never complained (like it could, but let's just presume) a single thing. It's been docile and obedient and clingy, but it's time to be realistic and not get carried away. Plus, I'd love to take everything to the finish line and begone as quick as I can and I know old Acer is no longer up to the task.

So here comes Scarlet.

But be indignant at me not, old Acer. You have done an incredible job and have honored me through the Dean's lists and not. And for that, I am eternally grateful. I truly am. I pray for you to be triumphant in your future endeavor (even though I am not so certain about that, since I am considering to sell you off to some company so that they can rip you off and take you limbs apart). You will be dearly, dearly, dearly missed.

I bid you adieu.

Illegal Blogging

2011-01-12T10:56:00.004+08:00

Blogging live from Makmal Bestari, UiTM Section 17 Campus!

I'm having a CALL lecture at the moment, and my dear lecturer is busy going around approving journals he can't see me updating blog! I know this is most inappropriate, but in all fairness, he approved my journal first! So going by basic human right, I am entitled to play around first!

Anyway, CALL is one of my final semester subjects, and in case you haven't got a clue, it stands for Computer Assisted Language Learning. urgh! I hate computer-related subjects. I seriously do, folks. Plus, I have had bad experience when it comes to computer-related subjects. The last time I registered myself (not that I wanted to, mind you) in such a class was absolutely 4 years ago, and I got a freaking B for that subject: my only B for that semester. So naturally, the hatred has bloomed well ever since.

But my current lecturer is so cool and everyone loves him! So that's a consolation.

Okay, he's going to start the lecture in a couple of minutes. Get caught blogging in class does not sound cool at all, so I am going to stop now. Plus, I am a good student and very respectful one, you know.

What with that sneer? I'm telling you the truth! Oh, bugger off.

Quickie

2011-01-02T16:26:00.002+08:00

Not that quickie.

Still at home. Will be leaving for Shah Alam in a few minutes. Will be leaving with a very heavy heart. I like it here at home very much. Well, who doesn't?

It's just so AE-free.

Okay, gotta go. My big brother has just done dressing himself. Off to the airport now. Oh dear great God above me, bless my flight and everyone in it.

Amen.
Until then, everyone!

1111

2011-01-01T23:12:00.005+08:00

Won't be tattling much for this particular entry.

Just want to wish everyone a very fruitful and eventful year ahead! Honestly, I'm kind of thrilled myself at the prospect of exploring this 2011 and see how it will unfold itself as time ticks on, seeing that I'll be taking on my final semester as a TESL student and jumping into the working world.

Working world? Now I feel like yawning.

Yet, sooner rather than later, I know I've got to suck it up, deal with it and in the very end, live with it. Plus, though being a student has been so much fun, I loathe the 'always broke' part. And as much as working has been wickedly dubbed as 'dismal and draining' phase in life, trusted people said I won't starve. I'll take it as a consolation any day.

So, as a man of his word, I will stop here. Happy new year, folks! ;)

Message Alert Tone

2010-12-29T23:00:00.005+08:00

Lying awake on my bed
I look outside my window and gaze up to the starless sky
And I think of you

I sit straight on my bed
And reach for my cellphone
Place it gently on my side, in case you might text me soon
because you rarely call me

So I wait for the message alert tone to ring
I wait for the message alert tone to ring
I wait for the message alert tone to ring, but it doesn't

Suppose you're afraid to make the first move
So I reach for my cellphone
And I text you
Hope you will reply me soon

So I wait for the message alert tone to ring
I wait for the message alert tone to ring
I wait for the message alert tone to ring, but it doesn't

I lay back on my bed.
And place my cellphone gently on my side
In case you might reply me while I'm sleeping

And I go to sleep, thinking of you.

My Voice

2010-12-17T23:43:00.005+08:00

I've never talked about my voice in the open.

Growing up, I thought I was just like every other boy out there until I was big enough to tell apart between smile and snigger. If you ask me, I cannot quite recall the first travesty that I got about my voice. Either it was a little too many to decide which one was the first or I opted to be oblivious to all the demeaning words.

But I certainly remember by heart all the funny looks that people gave me when I spoke up.

It would start with their eyes wide open in mock shock, or they would turn around upon hearing my voice and let out some supposed-to-be inaudible snigger but somehow it would always reach my ears. Or better still, if two people happened to be listening whenever I spoke up, one person would quickly turn to the other and whisper something unintelligible. But of course, it could not get any clearer who they were 'whispering' about when they did so before me.

So one day I realized that I did not sound like other boys did.

I've never bothered to find out what I sound like but I've heard enough to know that I have a girl's voice. Back then, I remember one teacher was passing by when I was in a class and apparently I was speaking to a friend when he came to a complete halt.

How did you do that?, he asked.
Did what?, I replied.
That voice. How on earth did you do that, mocking a girl's voice?, he said.
That is how my voice sounds like. I'm not mocking it, I told him.

He didn't say anything back after that. His face was deep red and he walked away.

On another occasion, I remember one time I let my younger sister use my cellphone for a few minutes on urgent matter, so she said. So when I took it back, the phone rang and I answered it.

Hello.
Hello, I said back. It was a boy.
Is that you, Liz?, the boy on the other end asked.
No, she's not around, I replied.
Oh, okay. So who is this then? Her mum?, he asked.

I was too stunned to say anything back. So I dropped the conversation.

These are just little fractions of memories that I can cast my mind back on as I am writing this entry. Of course you are right to be guessing that there are several other occasions pertaining to this unique voice of mine. And I do not judge you for thinking that I might have been living with shame for owning a girl's voice. Yet I was raised by a rough hand. My parents, particularly my mum has always made me see beyond my flaws. That explains why I had the guts to take part so actively in numerous oration contests back then despite my lack of manly voice and quite miraculously I constantly ended up as the last man standing.

And that also explains why my mum was not happy when one day she found out I had drunk something in hope to own a more boyish voice when I was about to represent Sabah in one national level oration contest. The very reason I did so because one officer in the state educational department urged me to do something with my voice if I were to stand any chance at all to bag the national title. It was kind of peculiar when he told me that because he was the chief judge when they voted me to be the state champion. My point is, if he was really annoyed with the way I sounded, why did he bother to pick me as the winner?

So my mum asked me to stop drinking whatever I was drinking.

And the strength that I've got now to brave people's demeaning words and sniggers was actually bequeathed by her. When she knew that I tried so hard to change my voice, she uttered this one magical line that I will never forget:

If you are meant to win, you will, no matter how you sound like.

I did not win the national competition, but this one wisdom has lived in me ever since and has aided me to live my life as a winner every single day. From that moment on, I've never attempted to change my voice. I know all my mum was saying when she uttered that magical line is that, people want to hear what I say, and not the voice that carries it.

I knew this was true when one day, during my practicum days, three lecturers came to evaluate me instead of the usual one, and later on I was informed by one of these evaluators that I was a possible candidate for distinction.

Right in that instant, there was a flash of fears that I felt on the first day of my practicum. The fear to be laughed and jeered at my by students. The scornful way they would look at me when I finally opened my mouth to speak up. The names they would call me. The disdainful looks they would throw my way upon hearing my voice. Those demeaning giggles I had known so well. The humiliating whispers at my back. All these that I had grown accustomed to.

And how I braved through these when they all occurred precisely the way I had expected it to be. The courage that I owned to weather these on the first day of my practicum and how I eventually got there, on the list for distinction.

At that time, I thought of no one but my mum and her magical line.

So now, I do not really flex my forehead muscles as much whenever people ridicule the girlish way I sound. I might get irked a little, then I know that I have to pity them. Pity the short judgment that they have. The glaring lack of reverence that they possess for what I truly am. Pity them for failing to see beyond people's flaws, like the way my mum has always taught me.

And my voice is not a flaw. It is a gift ;)

Point (less)

2010-12-11T19:40:00.001+08:00

It took me ages to write what I am writing at the moment.

6.2.88

2010-12-05T00:28:00.002+08:00

Nope. It's not the car.
Vios isn't my type. I fancy MPV, just so you know.

It's the plate number.
6288
6 February, 1988.
My birthday ;)
It's my future car plate number, if God wills it ;)

Hypnotized

2010-11-27T23:02:00.002+08:00

"Because I love you, whether it's wrong or right"

- If You're Not the One by Daniel Bedingfield

Both Sides

2010-11-24T23:58:00.003+08:00

Two different looks; one absolute cool guy.

It's been a while, Mr. Nadal.
It's sooooo good to see you again.
And what a cool Cardi you've got there! ;)

Me and Driving We've Got Issues

2010-11-17T22:17:00.009+08:00

I should, no, MUST pluck the courage to drive car manually.

Today I saw a 17-year old boy (and don't be asking me how I knew that he was 17) drive a huge manually-handled 4WD. I was perfectly content with not knowing how to handle a manual car hitherto. Well, to say 'not knowing' is not entirely true, since I've got my driving license. But when this particular humiliating sighting took place, I could not help but to bombard myself with questions like:

1. Are you, like, physically deformed to not be able to drive one freaking manual car?
2. How on earth are you going to function in society later on with that deformity?
3. And that boy, by legal regulation, can't possibly have got a driving license. Yet he was so natural at it. And look at you. Aren't you ashamed?

Yes, I am beyond ashamed, but in my defense, I have been wickedly traumatized. This trauma I have been in dated back to absolutely several years ago when I tailed my dad to a deserted place where he taught my big sister how to drive. It was a Vanette Van, so I sat obediently at the back, my white-faced sister on the driver seat and my depressed dad took the front passenger seat. Like I said, my depressed dad was, well, depressed because my nervous sister could not get what he was talking about, so I craned my neck, positioned myself in between the two of them and had a close look at the 'things' my dad was crossly pointing at.

"Clutch. Break. Accelerator", my dad kept saying.
"You just push the accelerator to get the car moving", he added.

Yet my extremely jittery sister was none the wiser despite these being explained to her. So I again craned my neck just to have a closer look at the the three stupid metals placed below.

So that one has got to be the clutch. And my dad said the one right in the middle is the break. So the one on the right has got to be the accelerator. You just push the accelerator to get the car moving. You just push the accelerator to get the car moving.

"That's easy", I heard myself saying.

My dad looked around to me, and for the first time that night he looked hopeful. My big sister gave me an annoyed, withering glance, but I pretended to not notice. Clearly trying to pull himself together from the enormous stress upon him, my dad asked my sister and I to switch places. Moments later, I was seated on the driver seat, and my sister sat grumpily at the back. She even had the time to throw at me one of her show-me-if-you're-any-better looks.

So I was determined to prove just that.

I buckled up. Pushed the gear to 1. You just push the accelerator to get the car moving. You just push the accelerator to get the car moving. You just push the accelerator to get the car moving.

And I pushed the accelerator as hard as my leg could go.

The things that I remember before I was dragged out of the driver seat were the damn loud roar the car let out once I pushed the accelerator to the maximum, the car jumping and racing so fast towards one solid building ahead I could have sworn that was the last day on earth for me, my dad yelling on top of his lungs for me to stop pushing absolutely everything, I opened the door and was about to jump out when the damn car was still moving and when the car stopped moving, I knew I was alive for one more day.

Seconds later, my dad was on the driver seat, my even-more-terrified-than-ever sister on the front passenger seat and I was at the back. We were on our way home.

That was the first and the last time my dad taught me how to drive. When I turned 18 and requested to learn driving, he called up our family driving tutor, and absolutely threw me off to the old Chinese man, saying how much confidence he had in that tutor to teach me driving when I was old enough to know that my dad was actually sparing his own soul. It was hell to learn driving, but I gave my tutor enough headache and heart attack to think that hell was a lot safer bet than teaching me driving. He kept swearing under his breath that I was the most dead-from-the-neck-up driving learner he had had the misfortune to teach.

Yet I passed all my tests at the first attempt.

Now, it's been four years since I first attained my driving license and I've got to apply for renewal before January 1. And maybe, the time has come for me to overcome the childish fear and renew the courage I used to have in handling manual car.

Even though the courage was downright stupid and could have been pernicious ;)

Epiphany

2010-11-16T00:49:00.002+08:00

Saw one chum of mine put this as her status on Facebook absolutely 8 days ago. Yet, haven't been able to get this off my mind ever since.

What could this mean? :l

Err

2010-11-10T23:08:00.005+08:00

Today I made my mum cry.

I know whatever justification that I may have, it would never validate and legalize the foolish way I acted today. But maybe I was at my weakest point. Maybe I wasn't in the right mind. Maybe I was too tempted to retaliate.

Or maybe - I was just one normal human being, flawed and bound for mistakes.

It started when I was attending to one customer at the market this morning. He asked for one kind of vege that had not been packed for sale. So I asked my mum to hurry up packing it. My mum snapped, apparently because I was rushing her. She began muttering under her breath something unintelligible, but I knew she was crossed with the way I was rushing her to pack the vege.

But I did so because the customer was rushing himself.

At first, I tried to not take it to the heart. After all, perhaps, I shouldn't have pestered her. But when my mum kept bringing it up, I lost my cool mind so that when she talked to me, I didn't talk to her back. I pretended deaf. I acted cold. I was on the verge of breaking down, but I fought back the tears. When my sister came, I walked out of the market and wandered aimlessly around the town.

I left the market. I left all the vege unattended. I left my mum.

I had no definite direction as where to go, so I just walked on. I passed by rows of shops, roads and people walking against my direction, yet I continued walking ahead. It was around 10 in the morning. I walked on. I passed by another row of shops. At first, I didn't notice it, but gradually the shops I passed by looked blurry. My sight was blurry, too.

Then I realized I was actually crying.

I came to a halt in front of a bookstore. I pushed the door open and stepped into. I had no money in my pocket - I left my wallet in my sling bag at the market. I didn't have any intention to buy books either, so I just looked around, pretending as if I was looking for one particular book and was rather disgusted for not finding it.

And while I was looking around in pretense, I saw a shelf full of bedtime stories and in that instant, I was deported back several years ago when my mum held my then small right hand and marched me into one bookstore when I was 7 years old. I can now retrieve this particular memory from the archive of my mind because I remember I had stamped my feet in childish rage, asking for one storybook like the one my friend had shown me at school the day before. Upon reaching there, I saw the same storybook that my snobbish friend had let me see and I asked my mum to buy me a copy. But she said I should get a different storybook so that I would be different. She wanted me to be different. So she picked a story about a crow who was very thirsty and badly wanted to drink from a big jar, but its beak was not long enough. In the end, the poor crow got to drink the water by dropping pebbles into the jar. I remember I asked for two storybooks, but my mum said the money was only enough for one storybook.

So my mum bought me one and I proudly showed my friends at school the next day.

Recalling this particular fraction of memory, tears began pooling around my eyes, so I quickly walked out of the bookstore. It was as though that memory was the big gallant door that led to rooms of childhood memories with my mum; and they all came to me at once. I was in severe distraught. All kinds of emotions rushed through the chamber of my befuddled mind and I was unsure which one I was feeling the most.

Yet I was sure of one thing: I was on my way back to the market.

As I headed back, I had a couple of what-ifs whispering at the back of my mind, and as I drew nearer to the market, I could hear quite clearly an ambulance siren blazing, and the sound got louder as I walked further ahead. Could it be my mum? Has she hurt herself in disappointment? Am I a few minutes too late? Will this be my biggest regret in life?

Then I saw her sitting on her old stool, tending the vege. Her routine for years to earn a decent living for us. For the ten of us. Slowly and instinctively, she glanced up at me.

I looked away and let go of the remorseful, suppressed tears.

1st Anniversary

2010-11-05T23:05:00.009+08:00

Growing up in a considerably conservative household, I have never been so immensely interested in birthdays. My mum and dad built our family literally out of nothing, so there were numerous other concerns deserving thoughts more than remembering dates and anniversaries. For them, each day is a gift, and there is no tangible reason why we should cherish one day any more special than the others.

Just about why it completely slipped my mind that this blog celebrated its first anniversary on last August 4.

Sitting here while staring at the blinding bright screen, I try to remember the thing that I could have eaten by mistake on the same day absolutely a year ago that made me jump out of my bed and start blogging. In all honesty, I was nothing but a bitter stalker, lurking beneath this invisible siber world and intruding people's tales and tails. It's as though you were illegally reading a diary you had stumbled upon lying open on a floor. The anticipation. The kicking curiosity. The guilty pleasure. Ah, everyone knows this feeling. This particular excitement.

Since we are all every bit of a stalker, that's for sure.

So what made me want to blog, you might ask. Well, I don't know. But to give you a rough picture, having a blog is like having a mute friend with two functioning ears. You can whine just about everything that annoys the hell out of you, laugh your heart out, weep out loud and the list goes on and on depending on how miserable the life you're leading - and this special friend of yours will faithfully listen. He will listen and listen and listen - and the sole reason this friend of yours is mute is so that he can't yell back at you and huffily say "why the fuck are you telling me all this? Do I look any interested? Get the fuck away from me, freak!".

Ah, how comforting it is to know that you will never get to hear this being said every time you're pouring out the content of your heart onto your blog?

For the past 14 months, I have quilled some 240 entries and the one you're currently reading is numbered at 241. And what good will you get from knowing this, I will never know. But that's what blogging is all about. You will never know in what way your writing will affect those who are reading. Case in point, I once found out that someone quoted a fraction of something that I had penned on my blog as his status on Facebook, and I never knew that he had been following my blog as a silent reader. On another occasion, a friend of mine once revealed to me that she had been using my blog as an informal platform to learn English, just when I thought I could only be teaching the language in formal classroom. One friend even hinted a path as a writer!

Maybe in the next life :)

For the final note, I would like to thank everyone who has been with me through all my ridiculous rants, mundane moans, lackluster punchlines, imbecilic criticisms, wrenched profanities and just about absolutely everything. I thank you for all your comments and feedback, constructive and demoralizing alike, for they give me another reason to continue blogging. When you're old and gray, you can be sitting on your rocking chair with your grandchildren around and proudly telling them "You know what, I used to know this one stupid miserable blogger. I survived his even stupider writings!".

Finally, I would like to ask you to raise your glass and share a toast with me to: Feather Quill and an Inkwell for another year to come!

Cheers! :)

My Hometown's Cinema

2010-11-04T23:21:00.004+08:00

There are three horrid things that I can still sharply recall the last time I watched movie at my hometown's cinema. They can certainly be numbered as follows:

1. I was with my other three siblings; 2 little sisters and one not so little brother. We were there to catch Avatar on new year's eve, I suppose. Once we had bought a few cups of popcorn, we waited around the hall outside the cinema where everyone else was standing and fidgeting, clearly waiting for their movie to start too. Almost 10 minutes had passed, yet there was no light with number to indicate admission. We waited some more. I think it was after another 5 minutes that a lad popped out out of nowhere akin a silly leprechaun and signaled to us that our hall was now ready. Startled, I glanced around only to notice that there were no freaking numbers with freaking light that you usually see in decent cinemas to indicate admission. Yup, the cinema was still using manual hand-signal and a not-so-sincere smile to let you in.

2. Equally agitated and irked with the first fiasco, we marched into the cinema, all ready to put the lack of civilization incident behind us and move on. But as we moved further into the cinema, I could see that something was not quite right. Is it the screen? Is it too big or slightly smaller?, I asked myself. No, the screen is usual-looking. It's perfectly fine, I assured myself. Only when I was seated did I notice what went awfully wrong - the whole seating was flat on the floor, as if everyone was there to sit for a frigging exam! It wasn't arranged 45 degree steep like usual to allow better viewing experience. Needless to say, it was a horrid viewing experience.

3. The popcorn tasted awful and ridiculously pricey, compounded by the ladies selling tickets behind the counter who were looking everything but slutty it inflicted temporary mental disturbance to my poor siblings and I.

Yet, despite these middle-finger worthy of occurrences, you will be surprised to learn that I will most definitely be coming back to this damned cinema if -

by some godly miracle, they are showing this.

Don't you dare judge me for intending to return to the cursed cinema. If you were devout reader of Harry Potter, you would vigorously nod in agreement and display deep empathy. This is the most anticipated first part of the seventh book and there is no freaking way I will miss this one, even if I am currently trapped in this dead town of mine and boarders away from a more civilized cinema.

Yet I shall prevail! Long live me!

P/S: Dear the manager of the cinema, in the name of brotherhood (whatever this means), please rain down some compassion onto this tormented soul of mine by showing the movie in your glorious (ehem!) cinema. I know the popcorn you're selling there tastes slightly better than dog dung and your seating sucks big time, yet I am most ready to put it behind and be forgiving. Let us start anew and may you prosper in near future and for many years to come.

Everybody after me, Amen.

In Loving Memory

2010-11-01T00:10:00.009+08:00

The thing I remember the most being said about you is that you were good-looking. Perhaps, close to jaw-dropping and drop-dead gorgeous. Honestly writing, I am not sure how true that is, but she always said it in a very convinced manner whenever she launched into one of her passionate talks about you - and it just so happens that I have known her long enough to know that she seldom tells lies. Not if she can evade it and the situation does not call for it. To prove her point, she would robustly tell me how girls would be giggling sheepishly whenever they set eyes on you and the reasons were plain to see. You could date any girls you wanted, with few exceptions of course, (rejection is part of life, no matter how charming you are) and judging from the way she ranted about it, I doubted her not.

I believed everything she said about you.

You could be real egoistic too, she had told me. I remember one time she confided in me, teary-eyed about the way you had treated her. It was so dismissive and cold-shouldered it hurt her so much. She was crying a little while she was telling me this with another friend of ours by the lake early in the morning - our eccentric routine. I tried to be a good listener to her that morning - because she rarely sheds tears - and then I realized that you must have meant something to her, or else she wouldn't have spared her tears for you. She ruled this little theory of mine out, so I did not broach the subject any further.

I believed everything she said about you.

Yet, on myriad occasions, she had told me how she would ring you whenever she needed an ear to listen to her moaning and cries. She said you were a good listener. Now that I think of it, I do not exactly know the things she whined about to you. Knowing her, it could have been about how she did not do well in her test papers, leaving one or two instructions unanswered. It could have been about how someone had annoyed the hell out of her - it could have been me, fat chance - and how fucked up her day was. Whatever it was, this only proved how much you meant to her that she could totally turn to you to lash out her anger and dejection and indignation at. You cooled her off. You toned her down. You made her feel better and relieved - simply by listening.

I believed everything she said about you.

It would be endless to recall everything about you she once had told me - how stunned she was when you met her one day wearing Hawaiian-themed short, your laid back comportment and easy going demeanor and most importantly - how sweet talker you were! I do not know if it's appropriate for me to unfold this one particular memory of hers here- but I hope she would not mind - that you once told her that her sheer slow-wittedness had won your heart. I was even always getting on her nerves, teasing her that she was lucky to have got a boyfriend who had had literally everything - the good look and fortune most guys - me included - could only dream of having.

I believed everything she said about you.

But I did not believe her when I received a text from her earlier today, reading "He's gone". In fact, I did not want to believe it, so I asked her to clarify her ambiguous message, hoping for a different meaning I might not be able to retrieve at the moment.Yet I knew that I was kidding no one but myself.

I knew that you had departed into the great beyond.

Dear you, it's just odd to state the fact that I never met you. I would love to, but there was no way she would let me. I knew you through words. In tears that she dropped and laughter that she roared. Now that you are up there, you might be able to see that she is beyond devastated that you have left her for good. You were a good friend to her, and in a peculiar and inexplicable way, a friend of mine too.

She bridged us, and I am glad to have known you in this borrowed life.

The Almighty says, "When their specified time arrives, they cannot delay it for a single hour nor can they bring it forward," (16:61)

Al-fatihah.

Gone with the Wind

2010-10-28T23:44:00.006+08:00

Let me make it clear once and for all: this is not an erotic novel.

Okay, in all fairness, the cover might be a little bit misleading, but heck, I'm sure you're doomed if you have never heard the novel - or the title, for that matter. You might have heard or stumbled upon the damn famous phrase somewhere - on the newspaper your dad was reading, on the net while you were surfing something 'decent' (let's hope so) or maybe as an utterance by your chums when you were asking the whereabouts of something or someone and they replied, absentmindedly, "gone with the wind..."

Well, in case you have never known, that phrase isn't, by any freaking chance, an idiom or anything of that sort. It's actually the title of a very renowned novel penned by Margaret Mitchell, which was later used as the base of a phenomenal film by the same title.

And the reason I'm ranting about this novel is evidently because, I am reading it at the moment. I purchased it at the airport last time, together with House Rules. For those who have been with me long enough, they would tell you just how much I loathe curiosity. Well, the say curiosity killed the cat, but in my case, you would be the poor cat if you made me curious over something. So quite naturally, I've been curious about why the novel has been tremendously hailed and celebrated.

But of course, there is one way, and one way only to suss it out: by reading it.

I'll fill you folks in on it once I'm done reading. The other reason I'm ranting about the novel is that, never were there any novels that forced me to do some extra reading on historical occurrence on the net prior flipping the first page open. Plus, at the rate I'm going, I am totally clueless as when I am gonna finish it. Why, it's the thickest novel I've ever seen in my entire whole life.

So where did I put my reading glasses just now?

House Rules

2010-10-27T00:17:00.004+08:00

By God, I was financially fucked up when Safwan wheeled me to the airport the other day to catch my flight back home after post practicum. But when the lady sitting behind the check-in counter confirmed that I didn't have to pay that ridiculous 30 ringgit check-in charge for God knows what reason, I knew straight away that I had to spend that money I had spared on something beneficial. After all, you're not supposed to keep your money folded in your wallet, are you?

So I gambled away and forked my penny out on this.

'Gamble'. Yup, that's the right word, no doubt. Reason being, I had never read any of Picoult's best-selling books prior to that day. Handle with Care, My Sister's Keeper etc. I had heard all of them, yet never had the kicking urge in my bladder to pick it out on the shelf. So naturally, I had no freaking idea whatsoever the way she pens. But I took my chance all the same.

And it was worth the risk, I freaking tell you. Ten times over.

I won't even bother to yank out the details of the novel, in case you might have extra cash and don't mind spending some. It's just I feel obliged to share any reading materials I deem worth-sharing with you folks, if you happen to be just as book whore as I have been. Better than being a whore on dark streets. Hahaha.

Okay, so that's particularly not funny.

I read the novel straight away once I was seated on the plane. It took me a good one week to reach the last page, simply because I didn't have the luxury to hold it all the time. So I would read it while I was on bed, waiting to doze off. Until one Sunday morning, when I literally couldn't put the freaking book down, so I finished it up until 4 in the morning, when I was expected to rise as early as 6am the very next day.

That's just how gripping the novel is.

Go. Buy. This. For. You. Won't. Regret. It. Believe. Me.

So I am officially a fan of Jodi Picoult now. I've been eyeing her other novels and it's just a matter of time before I rob a bank, gobble up a few sacks of cold hard cash and walk 'unconvictedly' into Kinokuniya.

Woah. Who typed that? Yet that's now a bad idea, after all.

Ummi & Amir

2010-10-08T05:40:00.010+08:00

Hi, my name is Amir Ashraf. Mummy says you are allowed to call me Amir.

Oh, this is my big sis, Ummi. Ummi, say 'hi' to the camera!

Okay, I've got rid of that big sis of mine. Now the camera is all mine! Muahaha!

A-ha! Don't be so sure, Amir! Remember I was born first? Ask mummy if you don't believe.

Okay, mummy says you were born first. So what?

Told you. She loves me more.

Okay, I think if I climb on this chair, mummy will be worried and she will pay more attention to me. Mummy will love me more. Wait. Let's see if this works!

Amir, don't be silly! You will fall off the chairs and mummy will take it out on me!

Come on, Ummi. Give it a break. I'm a big boy now. And big boys don't fall off the chairs.

See? Did I not warn you? There, there, stop crying. Mummy will hear you.

Okay, I promise to be a good boy from now on.

That sounds better! Now say 'peace'! :)

Never Let Me Go

2010-10-04T19:22:00.002+08:00

Can't wait! Can't wait! Can't wait! :)

Life

2010-10-03T11:35:00.008+08:00

Hi, all.
I know I've been quite a bore lately. Or have I been that way all along?

For those who have been following my blog I suppose you have realized that prior to this no-direction entry, I had been posting a string of 'essays' penned by my kids during my final week of practicum. Some would speculate that turning those writings into blog posts was an utter absurdity and downright laughable. First, every trainee teacher might have been on the receiving end of something similar. Secondly, nobody would read them, anyway.

But for me, it's a way to immortalize the memories that I shared with my kids.

Time flies. And before you even know it, the years multiply and everything is well behind you. What offers us happiness today could be forgotten the next day when we stumble upon something new. Something of a better value, one might say. Most often than never, the reason for our happiness is replaced every waking second, and the cycle goes on.

Found and forgotten. Found and forgotten.

However, what we have constantly overlooked is the fact that, at one point in our life, there was something we treasured the most, for they meant the world to us. And it is my conviction that everything that was, and is the reason for your contentment is worth relishing.

Relishing for life.

In all honesty, I fear this. I fear that I might be forgetting the thing that was once so dear to my heart. Thus, I immortalize it in the form of writing, for I know that the time will come when I will be looking back and reminiscing the good old days. The day when I yearn to be reminded of what it was in the past.

When the day is upon me, I wish to be able to vividly remember everything. The goods and the bads alike. Like I said before, Perhaps, I will be looking back on these days and say "At one point in my life when I was 22 and you were 16 years old, our stars aligned, our paths crossed and we met each other".

As I am penning this entry, I am engulfed by a rare sense of tranquility. The sun has been absent for the first quarter of the day, leaving the vast, overcast sky slathering the world, all alone. Children are running downstairs, their laughter is swiftly ascending up in the breezy air and evaporating just as fast. Somewhere, birds are chirping merrily, singing a song I cannot fathom, but it's comforting regardless. People are strolling along the street, taking in and relishing this rarity. Such an impeccable day.

And here I am, thinking of you, kids. And I send you my love.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #40

2010-10-03T03:24:00.002+08:00

TO MY LOVELY SIR

....It is secrets...

Ini surat saye yang paling cantek (Beautiful)

From:
Secretman

I like a pink
Your glass are NICE...
Don't leave our class
Sir always in our mind

Sir Aziz, the best kind with me and Sir Aziz is very smart and not bad with me. Sir Aziz very good at the my class. And then, Sir Aziz is handsome and brave with my class (4 PEE1). Sir Aziz is very caring me. When I trouble he can helping me. Sir Aziz have skill and qualification at my class. (When Sir when to marry?????) please answer to us at the class..

OK....
YOU UNDERSTAND
OR UNDERSTOOD?

WHEN SIR?
BOLEH SAYA TAHU?

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #39

2010-10-03T03:15:00.003+08:00

Sir, u are the best teacher that I know. I love your teaching. U make the teaching be fun. Went the first time u entered my class, I tought that maybe your teaching is bored. But after you teach me, I fill very fun because your teaching is so fun. I hope that u will teach me but Puan Hany is ambil alih our class. Sir, please teach me because I will understand what your teaching. Sir, u are the best teaching teacher that I meet. Di kesempatan ini, saya nak minta maaf pada Sir. Saya banyak buat salah pada sir. I know that I was so noty with u. I hope sir maafkan saya.

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.
[SIR AZIZ] Saya Sayang Sir!!!

Thanx you for being my teacher

Sorry Sir
Yang saya bulat2 kan ni adalah air mata saya. Saya sedih sangat sebab nanti Sir dah tak ajar saya lagi.

I WILL MISS U SIR

From your noty student,
Rahsia... hehehehe...
^_^

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #38

2010-10-03T03:11:00.002+08:00

Sir Aziz is my English teacher at my school. He is a practical teacher. He is a good person. He teaching is very good and I very understand he teaching. He always give the gift to students. He like talking about her. Sir is very skema. He is a good teacher.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #37

2010-10-03T03:06:00.002+08:00

Sir Aziz is my english teacher. He was kind as different like anyone teacher. He was very handsome when he wear spectacle. When he speaks like a girl. But everyone at 4PEE1 like Sir. He was like to give a question and gives are present. First time he teach me, I was interested and I like he speech when he teach me. My education was higher in English. I like the five words a day because he support me to understand a meaning of English. He come to my class was on time. He like to joke with everyone. When he walk as like a schema boy. But anything about them I like it. I would say to you don't touching Sir what I write to you.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #36

2010-10-03T03:02:00.002+08:00

My Sir Aziz very good to teaching me. First time her teach me, he look something wrong. He wear shirt and tie pink colour. Not many man like wear tie pink. Her look happy any time but accept last day Sir Aziz ang to my class, because my friend not on time to class. Nextly Sir Aziz like to give chocolate and sweetie to my friends. Sir he on time to my class.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #35

2010-10-03T02:59:00.002+08:00

Firstly, we so happy time you teach us. I not feel boring time you teach us. Saya suka cara Sir mengajar kami. kerana banyak aktiviti yang Sir buat. I know you a good person. I hope you happy teach at your new school later. Sir suka pendam perasaan marah Sir. I don't have idea to read this letter sir. Banyak yang saya ingin cakap tapi tak tahu nak luahkan macam mana.

I
LOVE
YOU
SO MUCH!!! :)

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #34

2010-10-03T02:53:00.002+08:00

Pertama, terima kasih kerana sudi mengajar saya dan kawan-kawan. Maap, saya memang lemah B.I. jadi jangan mawa. Sir seorang yang baik hati, pemurah. Sir tak pernah saya tengok marah kami kecuali ada 1 hari tu, separuh pelajar masuk lambat. Teruk kena ceramah. Tapi tak apa. Sebab ceramah tu banyak menyedarkan kami akan silap kami. Sir ajar memang best, kami belajar pon happy. Tak ada yang bad ar pada diri Sir. Tak tahu nak kata apa lagi. Sowy tulisan tak lawa. N tak tulis karangan dalam bahasa Inggeris. Maap banyak2. Nanti dah lepas x ajar kami, Janganlah lupa kami!

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #33

2010-10-03T02:50:00.002+08:00

Sir Aziz, my English Teacher was a good Teacher but not like a teacher in primary school. He was a good looking man. The lesson that he teach was a good way to catch. He always wear a T-shirts and a tie. The first time, he came to my class he make a serious face to the class. He make us laugh and happy with the game he make to the class.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #32

2010-10-03T02:44:00.002+08:00

Sir Aziz is my ENGLISH TEACHER. HE from "SABAH". He is smart boy. PEEEH!!!! no idea la Sir :)

Assalamualaikum, Firstly saya minta maaf sepanjang Sir tech saya. I think Sir adalah English Teacher yang paling best sepanjang saya belajar bahasa Inggeris.

Sir telah give me spirit untuk belajar Bahasa Inggeris. Sebenarnya, I want jadi seperti Sir. Sir boleh bercakap bahasa Inggeris dengan fasih dan lancar. Pandai mengarang essay.

Finally, saya minta restu daripada Sir, doakan saya pandai membuat essay, bercakap bahsai Inggeris dan lulus dengan cemerlang dalam (SPM 2011).

((THANKS YOU SIR))

Doakan saya sewaktu ambil paper B.I dalam SPM 2011 nanti. Amin.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #31

2010-10-03T02:40:00.002+08:00

Salam, Sir, thank you because have taught me very good. I felt very happy. I like Sir taught me because i easy to understand even sometimes i blur2 in class. I never felt sleepy if you entered my class. I was so enjoyed with your class. Thankz for everything, Sir ^_^

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #30

2010-10-03T02:36:00.002+08:00

Pertama kali sir masku kelas saya, saya anggap sir lelaki yang lembut but tidak sama sekali. Sir adalah cikgu english yang paling baik and tak garang pun. Saya suka dengan cara cikgu mengajar. cikgu telah mengajar saya dengan baik tetapi yang saya dapat hanya sedikit ilmu dari cikgu but banyak main drpd belajar. I'm so sorry, sir.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #29

2010-10-03T02:32:00.002+08:00

His name is Abdul Aziz Arshad. He is very kindful among his students. He always wear black spectacle sometimes he wears white spectacles to school. I like his style of teaching because it is so fun and full of surprises. I hope that he could teach my class until the end of the year or maybe until next year. Seriously I enjoy his class. If Puan Hany teach me I will fall asleep but if he teach me I will never fall asleep. The first time when he entered my class, I thought he is a new student. But I really like he teaching my class, Thanks for everything Sir. ^_^

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #28

2010-10-03T02:27:00.003+08:00

Assalamualaikum, Sir. Terlebih dahulu saya ingin mengucapkan terima kasih yang tidak terhingga kerana telah memberi ilmu kepada saya untuk memahami bahasa Inggeris. Dan terima kasih juga kepada sir kerana telah memberi masihat kepada saya untuk belajar dan memberi tips-tips yang berguna untuk saya mempelajarinya in addition saya berharap semoga sir sihat selalu and don't tinggalkan solat agar ibadah sir mudah diterima oleh Allah S.W.T. Dan tidak lupa juga pengorbanan sir kerana telah menyedarkan saya untuk terus belajar dan berminat dalam bidang bahasa Inggeris ini.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #27

2010-10-03T02:22:00.002+08:00

Sir Aziz my practical english teacher. He is good teacher. I don't know what I want to say but he is my best english teacher in my life time. Maybe 100 teacher in high school like Sir Aziz. He teach in my class like kindergarden but so funny he teach me suddenly I remember my kindergarden teacher I so happy.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #26

2010-10-03T02:17:00.002+08:00

Sir Aziz, my english teacher was a good man and good looking. First time I saw him, I thing he like a jambu because he wear a pink shirt and red tie. But, when he teach in my class, I thing he's not a jambu. Sir Aziz also have a ciri-ciri as a teacher walaupun he a practical teacher. One day, he was angry to me because I not focus when he teach. He also like a happy teaching so that we are not boring. Sir Aziz also invited we to sing 'Perfect' song with he. I so happy because have a teacher like Sir Aziz.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #25

2010-10-03T02:12:00.002+08:00

Sir Aziz, the first time I saw him he like a nerd boy. I really want to laught went I saw him and heard his voice. His voice sound like a little boy. He always talk in full English, even that I know what his saying but i really don't like it because I thought it very "bongkak". Even that, after a long time with him I started to like him because he very sporting and he always brings something to make his class more cheerful. Went he make a game he will give to the winner some goodies to us and I once have it and I really like it. The day that he scold us I were not really affraid or mad at him at all. I'm very happy to have a teacher like u and I hope all teachers like u.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #24

2010-10-03T02:08:00.002+08:00

For the first time I saw Sir Aziz, I think he's a serious man. But the more I him in english class, I think he was a cheerful and funny man. He also wear very smart cloth to school which I very like. The activity that he had done were enjoyable although some of the activity were pretty boring for me. He also a funny person. He always talk about everything. There are not many negative thing that I can think off.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #23

2010-10-03T02:04:00.003+08:00

Sir Aziz his this very good. Sir Aziz the best english because Sir Aziz a very good in English. Sir Aziz very like make a game. After Sir start class, closed or door. Sir very love we all class 4 PEE1.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and langauge-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #22

2010-10-03T01:57:00.003+08:00

Sir Aziz, the best english teacher have I meet. first time I saw her, I think he like very.... scary ar... but he was a kind man. When he tich in my class, he always ask Ridhuan, syauqi or me to clossed the door. I don't know why? But its ok. But what I want to say about he, he very kind, when he angry to my class, he still can tich my class. And he alway make game in class.

Sir Aziz make me different with my own self. Before this, I don't like English class with another teacher. Not Puan Hani class. Now I very like English class but now I don't know what I want to say. And Sir Aziz is first person make me want to learn about English. But I never get full mark in my English paper.

Last want, I hope Sir can stay with us in 4PEE1 and tich us in English. And last think, thans for giving our note book. (^_^)

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #21

2010-10-03T01:51:00.003+08:00

When first time you entered in my class, I think so bored. And when you teach first time, saya rasa fun and best. Sometimes your personalities is funny. When do the games it's the best learning in English. I don't think so you are the funny English teacher when I know you, you are the great teacher English I like your teaching, not bored, not sleepy but sometime I sleepy la in my class English. That's all what I want to say. I appreciate you and I hope you will success in your life.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #20

2010-10-01T15:51:00.003+08:00

Sir Aziz. Who is he?? It just my new practical teacher for about 3 month. First time, he teaching us we laugh because he sound just like a toad hahaha so funny... After long, he teach us we feel so exciting and happy. I remember we need to sing a English song he tried to sing it just very very horrible hahaha... I like he wears a pink shirt it just like my mom.. Haha. I remember the incident when he angry because we late to come for his class it just for a 10 minutes only!! I don't know why he need to angry at us for just a 10 minute!! Sometime I see him is just a nerd guy but actually it smart and neat. Sometimes, he just like talk to himself haha... I hope he can get a beautiful, lovely and quiet wife because Sir is too much talk la... I hope when he went to Sabah he will teach the pupils in there to be just like him. I hope in last day here he will wear a pink shirt haha.. Plezz...!! Okey, that's all from me I hope u will succes in the future!! Papai Sir!! We all love u!! :)

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #19

2010-10-01T15:43:00.004+08:00

Sir Aziz is a kind teacher. When my first time I see him, his a funny man. I don't know, maybe his voice but nevermine, I can accept it because my friend also has the same voice. Sorry Sir, I don't meant it to say that. I have no idea that Sir is a brilliant teacher but when Sir is angry, he is scould someone he make me so quiet. Sir Aziz is a 'skema' but it's ok it's not so bad. Sometimes I think, how Sir Aziz with a spiky hair. Actually Sir Aziz is a smart boy. If I given a choice, I choose Sir Aziz to teach me everyday. Well, that's it. I know you know who write this, Sir. It's also meant you know me. That's so many clues to bring you to the writer. Ha3... Good luck Sir.. Happy go lucky.......

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #18

2010-10-01T15:35:00.003+08:00

My English teacher is Sir Abdul Aziz. He lives in Sabah. He practical teacher at SMT Klang. He come in my class form 4 PEE1. He teaching the english.

Sir Aziz is a very kind, understanding and friendship. I like he teaching me and all my class. Cara dia mengajar kami cepat faham dan seronok. Everyday he must want we do 5 word. Everyday he come in the back door my back class must be close. He not like student sleep in class.

Sir Aziz is very responsible anything. He is lovely sir. I and my friends very happy with sir because cara dia mengajar amat menyeronokkan dan sir also do anything a activities what we study today. We love Sir Aziz. I and my friends will remember you forever and thanks about teaching we all.

I will miz u and love u sir. Thanks for everything. You're very sporting. i will can't forget and I will remember you sir. Don't forget we all form 4 PEE1. Take care. Happy always Sir.

I LOVE U SO MUCH, SIR ABDUL AZIZ :)

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #17

2010-10-01T15:27:00.003+08:00

First time sir Aziz come to my class I see him like a nerd boy cannot teach our class. I think he cannot make me happy and not really good to teach me. Sir Aziz like a angry teacher. After that, I feel not like him. Then, everyday he teach I and I feel that I like him. I started like him teach I at 3 days he teach me. He teach me and make me happy. He always make me happy with what he teaching. After that, after teaching he will make a game make me not sleeping. I never sleeping when he teaching. He teach also I can understand. Sir Aziz is a wonderful teacher have teach me. He a best english teacher I have been seen. I like so much he teach I because I not boring when he teaching. Seriously he a very best teacher for me in the world...

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #16

2010-10-01T15:21:00.003+08:00

Sir Abdul Aziz is my English teacher . He is a practical teacher. He is a very good teacher because he can teach me and he also do some funny will he teaching me. Before he teach me, I always sleep at class, went he enter my class I can't sleep and I don't why? Maybe he is funny teacher and good teacher. Everything that he teach me I will remember. He also do some games. The games that I remember is predict the storyline of the drama "Gulp and Gasp" based on the nine words/phrases pasted on the whiteboard. I am very happy to has teacher likes Sir Abdul Aziz but what can I do he will live this school in this week. I will miss you....

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #15

2010-10-01T15:17:00.003+08:00

He is a handsome man. He teach me english language. At first, I felt weird because his face was very sombong kot. But after that I was very happy because he teach me very very well. Tq sir. He also give me some gift to who is winning some quiz. He is the best teacher that I ever met. I hope he will be someone who is very tabah on his life.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #14

2010-10-01T15:13:00.003+08:00

Sir is a kind, funny and sometimes like a tiger because sir like screamsss...huhu. Cara sir mengajar pun good and easy to understand. Sir seorang yang happening and tegas adakalanya. Whatever, is important sir the best teacher in the world.... Heee =) I will miss you when you leave me :P

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #13

2010-09-30T21:22:00.004+08:00

Assalamualaikum, Sir.

The first thing that I wanna said to you is, PLEASE NEVER FORGET 4 KA2! YOUR LOVELY KIDS! (I think! hehe)

Actually, I'm not very well to speak or write in English. But I will! Just like you! ONE DAY! =)

Sir, I hope you always success in your life! Please forgive me it I have done something that make you sad! And ya! I pray for you that you will find someone special that make you always happy! Amin~

ERRR... don't know what to say, haha.. actually I have many words to write it down, but I don't know how! my brain is burn! heheh :P

Lastly, may God always blessing you! And we all will always miss you!

-Take care, Sir!
-Good Luck!
-Forget me not :(
-u are the BEEESSTTT teacher in the WORLD!

You are very kind! I love you (as my teacher).

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #12

2010-09-30T20:46:00.003+08:00

I want to say that my English teacher is very kind person. First time I saw him, I feel Sir Aziz is snobbish teacher. Truely, I tell I not interested when I know Mr. Aziz would enter my class. But, the day when him entered my class, I feel that I'm wrong. Because Mr. Aziz is a kind and responsible teacher. He guide me in subject English very well. Now, I realize I cannot look at someone from outer. I really proud of him and appreciate him as my teacher. Right now, I don't feel to speaking english with anyone. For my english teacher, Sir Aziz, I would like to say thank you because teaching me. I really appreciate this. Thank you, Sir.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #11

2010-09-30T20:27:00.005+08:00

I'm is a student in civil engineering class. My english teacher is Sir Aziz. At first time he came to my class, I was scared. Anyway, after I know him, I feel happy teach with him. He is a sporting teacher. He was doing some activities for rested our mind and the activities very funny. He helped me how to score in english subject. He is a smart boy I proud with him. I think he is my idol for me to success in my life. Thank you, Sir! I hope you can teach me again. Sorry if I do any fault to you.. I hope you will pray for our SPM 2011.. Thank you very much Sir!

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #10

2010-09-26T11:09:00.004+08:00

The first time Sir enter my class, it was so boring and very serious. Sir Aziz teach us about Drama. At first it was so horrible. But after long time, I discovered that Sir Aziz is a interesting person. We try to get used to Sir Aziz and at last Sir Aziz made me laugh, even on those bad days. Sir Aziz always give us a good smile and we all are very happy. I hope you will always remember 4PKA2. We will always miss you Sir Aziz...

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #9

2010-09-26T10:59:00.003+08:00

There are have one practical teacher. He name is Sir Aziz. When I saw him from first class, I feel afraid. Afraid what kind of person of he. But went second class, I enjoyed he lesson. Study in games can make me understand he lesson and we all happy to study. From song, AI will know comprehension like adjectives, adverbs and some more. We all very happy in class, laugh everyday, very fun and enjoyed he lesson. He a best teacher.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #8

2010-09-26T10:55:00.004+08:00

Firstly he came to my class, I so afraid with him because I don't know his attitude and how he in my class. He asked me one question and I don't know how to answer his question. I so afraid at the moment. Next class, I enjoyed to study with him. He so funny and always make me laught. I enjoy in his class. Lastly, I like him and his class very much.

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.

Sir Aziz, My English Teacher #7

2010-09-25T08:42:00.003+08:00

Hey, Sir. I know today is you last teach me in the class. I look you so nerd teacher and you sound like a children. I don't care about that, but I'm proud with you because I can understand what you teach to me. I hope you never and never forget me very well and thank you for anything. I really hope you success in your life and happy with someone.

Please forgive me if I had anything wrong or rude attitude with you. I'm so sorry very much. And the last think, may God blessing you.

Thank you, Sir. I never forget you!!!

Note: This is anonymously written by a student of mine. It is unexpurgated both content and language-wise.