Of Ice and Mates.

I was already waiting at the Kelana Jaya LRT station just before nine o’clock. Needless to say, I was the earliest person to arrive. We were supposed to meet at nine, and my classmates were actually pretty early by Malaysian standards, arriving between nine fifteen to nine thirty. My actual fear was that they’d stand me up so I was pretty relieved when I received various phone calls informing me of their whereabouts.

I’m touched. Yet again, proof that my classmates are wonderful people who truly accept me as a friend. All those simple gestures that others take for granted do not escape me because of…my past experiences. People might think I get a little emo if they knew how easily touched I am, yet they don’t know how hard, how lonely it is to have had no friends. I still remember the instant a classmate of mine poked his head into the staffroom and said casually, “Oh, hi, Michelle. I thought I’d find you here.” Tears of gratitude had welled up in my eyes at his friendly words, though I did not let them fall. It was the knowledge that someone did not despise me or walk away but instead came for me and bestowed upon me a simple smile. TAR College was one of the first bits of warmth I had ever received.

Finally, my friends turned up. Four girls – the four ‘M’s! – Mei Ping (red), Maia (black), Min Yunn (green), Me (blue), and two guys, Chin Xin (black), Jeff (grey). Unfortunately, Ichiro, Ken Wey and Chris did not turn up, though they were supposed to be there. The colour of our clothes that I’d put in brackets above gave me a déjà vu feeling – very DB-like.

The bus was just about to leave when we made our way to the bus stop so the six of us hopped on happily, Maia complaining about hunger and threatening to murder at least one of us. We had brunch upon arrival at Sunway at Long John Silver’s before setting foot in the ice-skating rink.

I’ve always liked the feel of the cold air brushing her icy fingers across my face, even back then when I couldn’t skate for toffee. Perhaps I have an affinity for snow and all things ice. It is ironic how I’m easily affected by the cold, actually. I suppose that’s why I’m “of fire” as well as “of snow”.

Due to not having ice-skated in quite some time, I was a little nervous as I stepped unto the ice. Gingerly but surely, I placed a foot firmly upon the cold, frozen waters. It was as if I’d been skating all my life, although I could barely ice-stumble just months ago. It felt so easy, so natural…my balance was so firm I really found it hard to believe that earlier this year, I was slipping all over the place and telling anyone who would listen that I would never, never be a decent skater. Bad as I generally am at sports, I never thought I could have learnt how to skate in such a short time – that proves how easy ice-skating actually is. Hey, if I, the World Champion Sports Loser can do it…

Chin Xin, Jeff and I were fair skaters (Trust me to be to be grouped under the “guys”), so it was up to us to teach the others. Maia could hold her own, so our jobs were mainly to look after Mei Ping and Min Yunn in turns. Two of us would guide and the third would be free to skate about.

I like “teaching” people the basics of ice-skating. It helps me improve my own skills as everything has to be Perfect with a capital letter or the “students” would be a terribly misguided bunch. Teaching them how to get into the rhythm helps ME to be more guarded about my steps and be more graceful. I do have a tendency to lapse into clumsy skating and I have a weak right lead. Once upon a time, I used to skate like a lame duck. As a matter of fact, I still do occasionally, when I forget and favour my left leg.

Just when I was guiding Mei Ping, a girl bumped into my poor friend, who fell against me and in turn made me twist my right ankle momentarily, though I managed to remain standing because of my firm balance. I looked up indignantly at the retreating back of the offender who didn’t even seem to have notice what had happened before turning to Mei Ping. My companion was not so fortunate and was sitting on the ice with an anguished look on her face. Despite my best efforts, the poor girl couldn’t stand. By this time, Jeff and a rink guard had already arrived and they helped her out of the rink. I was asked to identify the rude and dangerous skater and I described her at length to the rink guard.

Mei Ping turned out to have dislocated her knee cap and twisted her ankle. Maia was so angry she sought out the culprit and demanded an apology. Well, the offender had the guts to deny she’d bumped into my friend. She admitted to “passing by” but not bumping into her. Of all the nonsense! I’ve guided many newbies in my day and I know the difference between my wards falling down of their own accord in comparison to being bumped. Besides, there was my brief ankle twist to be reckoned for. Only a very hard knock into my ward would have made me stagger in such a fashion. If my ward had slipped on her own, I would have either have fallen with her or remained standing, not doing an impromptu ankle twist!

The culprit also claimed that she was a newbie to if she had bumped into Mei Ping, she would surely have fallen herself. Rubbish. I told her flatly that that people do not necessarily fall over after bumping into others and left it at that for she was being stubborn and refused to apologise. Is it that hard to say “I’m sorry?” Of course, my classmates and I were rather annoyed at the girl’s behaviour.

After a while, Mei Ping claimed that she felt better and told us to continue skating. There was no reason for the five of us to sit there and watch a bruise form, after all. We bade her to be very careful and yell if it continued to hurt before we went back to skate.

By this time, Min Yunn had already grasped a little of Ice-skating 101 (told you ice-skating was easy as long as you have a guide) so the three “teachers” took a break and we convened in the middle of the rink. Spotting the obnoxious skater who was skating dangerously around the rink at top speed again despite being inexperienced, we decided to harass her a little. The three of us skated around her side like hawks circling their prey. As she knew quite well we were Mei Ping’s friends, we hoped she felt pretty pressured and stressed then. We were not breaking any rules, nor did we harm her. All we did was skate in her vicinity…skate a little too close for comfort. Quite mischievous of us, I know.

She decided to hold onto her friend’s hand next. Jeff flew past them into a small space and ducked, coming out intact. The inexperienced girls shrieked and went down in a noisy tangle of limbs. Chin Xin, Jeff and I met the centre of the rink, giggling like naughty school children.

Chin Xin then proposed a game of Tag and left no room for objections by poking Jeff’s arm and speeding away. Jeff gave chase and soon, the three of us were engaged in a very exhilarating game of Ice Tag. My feet glided swiftly as I weaved in and out of the crowd, for once, not afraid to fly. Indeed, it was the closest thing to flying. The chilly air was as refreshing as a spring tonic as it whipped against my face. It was a beautiful and enchanting moment.

Mei Ping rejoined us later as she felt better, a little scared of people bumping into her but none the worse for her experience. I brought her into the centre, where only the professionals skated – they could certainly be trusted to swerve or brake in time. Ironic, I know, but hey, my theory worked for not another person contrived to bump into my friend after that.

After our ice-skating session, it was decided that we were to have dinner and watch a movie. The girls went shopping (I gladly included myself among the guys) and we had talks on various interesting topics while we waited for the girls. Dinner was at a hawker centre near The One Academy, consisting of extremely expensive drinks as well as a very rude maidservant who cheeked Jeff and I when we enquired about our food.

At about six forty-five, we settled down in Sunway’s TGV to watch the movie “The Kingdom”.

Not quite my usual taste, but it was quite interesting if you could manage to pay sufficient attention. I almost fell asleep in the middle of the movie (no, it wasn’t that boring, I was just exhausted!) but I managed to stay awake by snitching a couple of sips from a classmate’s drink. Some of the lines are quite amusing :

“If he offers to let you hold his pleasure, do not flinch. It ees an honour.”

The next scene shows a very relieved man holding a hawk carefully.

“Come, I take you to catch the beeg dog.”

“You mean the big fish.”

“… A dog is beegger than a fish.”

*Astonished expression accompanied with wild gestures to show size of ‘dog’ and ‘fish’*

“…Well don’t ask me, I didn’t create that idiom.”

“You vatch Sixty Million Dollar Man?”

“Oh yeah! That’s my shit!”

“…Vat, you need to go to the bathroom? Vee could…”

“No, no, no.”

“If you vant, vee could…”

“No!”

I’m not quite certain of the time I arrived home – I was feeling quite feverish by then. The “customary morning cold” I had when I woke up in the morning had turned out not to be quite so customary after all and I ended up walking about all day with a red nose as I laughed and joked with my classmates. It was probably about ten o’clock when I arrived at the Ampang Park LRT station. I was quite, quite glad to sink into the front seat of my mother’s car then for I’d called ahead and asked her to pick me up.

Thank you all for a wonderful day, people. Friends are just marvellous things to have.

Just Another Day

9 guys + me + awesome college day = DoTA

Naturally. ;)

Another girl tagged along and watched us play for a bit. I didn’t do too bad for someone who hasn’t played Warcraft in ages and only just recently started playing DoTA. When the game ended, we looked around and noticed that the girl was missing, her bag still on the seat she was previously occupying. We tried to call her cell phone, but nobody answered. Scoured the entire cyber café, double-checked the toilets – nada. Kept trying her phone and calling other people to find out if she was with them but to no avail. Called our friends in the hostel and asked them to check up on her to see if she was in the college hostel but they replied in the negative. A search party of some sort went out and checked the entire street, looking into every store and hoping to find her. Well, we decided to try her phone one last time before calling the Wangsa Maju Police Station and…she answered the phone. Apparently she got tired of watching and went off to a nearby comic shop.

Lesson of the day: Don’t wander off without telling anyone? Uh-uh. Don’t ignore your cell phone? Nope. The lesson is…don’t watch people playing DoTA. Join them. :P Kidding.

Andrew, Ken Wey and I walked back to the LRT later…we were amazed when we saw Mun Hon and his girlfriend there, waiting for Wei Zhe. They should have been home hours ago! Apparently they were just as surprised to see us as we were to see them. Someone stole poor Wei Zhe’s LRT pass. It has only been in use for three days and there’s still the rest of the month to go! Mental note to self: Be very, very careful not to let my pass be stolen. It would have been worse for me, considering my IC and college ID are in the same plastic casing as my pass! The gradual deterioration of human morality is saddening.

Oh yeah…my phone died yesterday. V_V I have to use an old phone of my father’s while I attempt to send it for repairs. I don’t mind the old phone as much despite the severe lack of functions but the keys are so stiff and hard to press! My fingers hurt after sending a couple of messages and believe me, when I say my fingers hurt, they really hurt, considering I have great SMSing stamina. Ouch I hope I won’t get too used to these buttons and press my phone buttons way too hard after I’ve got it repaired (or gotten a new phone if beyond the point of no returun).

My sister was home early today. Very nice. A special wish for special people…goodness knows I appreciate you guys more than anyone will truly comprehend. Love to all of my wonderful classmates who never ceased to there for me in their own way. A simple gesture holds a world-full of meanings for me. :)

Night

The night was still.

No, not quite.

Leaves rustled as

nocturnal creatures scampered

through the woods.

She was there.

Gently twirling in

an eternal dance

of the moon.

The moonlight created

silver highlights in

the long dark hair

framing a lovely pale face.

Her steps were silent.

Quick, light, and measured.

Her black dress looked

as if it was weaved of silver thread.

She made not the slightest ripple,

her graceful feet slid in and out

of the shallow stream in the woods

as she continued her moonlight dance.

The moon cast strange shadows

across her face as

she smiled knowingly

humming an eerie melody.

For she was

The Guardian of the Shadows,

The Moon Lady,

The Mistress of Darkness.

And the night belonged to her.

My lecturer paired us off and made us write sentences one after another. This is a general idea - as much as I can remember - she took the original copy off us. Now let's see what my classmate and I got up to.

Red text= Me

Blue text= Chris

BEAUTY LIES IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

A pale, insipid face peeped out shyly from within the wraps of a ragged scarf. It was cold. It was one of those nights where the children were reluctant to leave the warmth of the fireplace. And then Santa appeared. He laughed merrily, a huge bag of goodies slung over his shoulder, tinkling bells harmonising with his laughter.

The children started to cry. They realised that this was not the Santa Claus of their bedtime stories, but Santa Claws. They ran and hid behind the trees. “You can’t hide from me forever, children,” cackled Santa. He had a big belly. Santa’s face paint was starting to peel, revealing the horror beneath his façade. Then the Goblin appeared.

A little child trembled as he climbed up a tree, the branches scratching cruelly against his flesh as Santa approached menacingly. The Goblin started to laugh at Santa’s big belly. “Haven’t you heard that beauty lies in the eye of the beholder?” snapped Santa angrily. “No wonder the children are afraid of you,” the Goblin laughed. “Appearances can be deceiving,” said Santa, “besides, Mrs. Claws finds me attractive.”

What is Art?

It is the common fallacy of our society that art is merely restricted to paintings hung in galleries and such. We have been taught since childhood that art consists of literature, paintings, sculptures, music and the like. The true meaning of art is lost, buried deep beneath the hectic daily lives of humans. Masterpieces that convey a world of meanings, splashes of colours forming portals to fantastic worlds, weaving in an out in an eternal parabola is lost to the general public. They are not aware of the omnipresence of art, that art is everywhere and that we breathe and live art.

Basic art classifications include literature, paintings and music. The works of illustrious writers like Oscar Wilde have been passed down from one generation to another. Compositions of legendary musicians like Beethoven and Mozart resonated through the ages and paintings by artists like Leonardo da Vinci are admired till this very day. Yet is that all there is to art? Art is not mere watercolours slapped upon canvases – it is everything one is able to perceive, though humans tend to reject the blatantly obvious in favour of the safe and tried road of ignorance. There is more to art than meets the eye.

Permit me to provide unusual examples that people would not generally consider a form of art. Several attempts have been carried out to separate the world into science and art, with the former deliberated as the dominant half of humanity. It has been debated that the arts should not be considered inferior to science – pointless arguments in my opinion. The disputers do not realise that the fact art could never be separated from anything and art is also incorporated into so-called science. Proportions of animal and plant cells are artistically arranged by Mother Nature and the concocting of medicines for ailing patients is an art in itself.

Is not genetic engineering considered art? The tampering of genetics within entities, to remove the imperfect genes and replace them with desirable ones…is not the result of this science related branch as much a masterpiece as a novel by writers like Patricia C. Wrede? A human could be said to resemble a lump of clay awaiting its sculptors. Our personal experiences, our environment and other external factors are what shapes us and forces us to become the being as others perceive us now. Hence, it could rightly be said that even the formation of a human is an art in itself.

One does not have to be famous to have one’s work labelled as art for it is not the greatness of the deeds that one does but the extent of the influence of others at the moment. Our speech, thoughts and demeanour are ways we express ourselves, not to mention communicate with other beings. Successful art evokes emotions of all sorts, be it insignificant or dramatic feelings. The transmission of these sentiments is a common occurrence in our everyday lives and art lives within said sensations. Art provides us with the power to change the world and we achieve that by changing a person’s life, however inconsequential an impact it may appear to be.

By means of art, we are able paint our otherwise drab and monotonous world with colours and beauty. One does not require a trained eye to recognise and appreciate art but merely a heart that is willing to accept expressions of any form. It could be said that the very subsistence of mankind is art in itself for it allows us to reach out beyond the generally impenetrable wall of humanity and touch the hearts of others. Our memories and imprints are immortal – they exist in different forms of art and live on long after our fleshly bodies have fully disintegrated.

My angel, they knoweth naught; My hopes, vague shattered thoughts.

My angel, they knoweth naught;

My hopes, vague shattered thoughts.

The sun sets - it is dusk outside,

Yet the darkness within - I can hardly abide.

How long should one wait,

How long till the bait?

My very bones start to ache,

My heart sings of sorrow’s egg.

Should one’s foolish fears be fulfilled,

A prospect that leaves one chilled;

The fool should do well not to regret,

And of course, the present not to neglect.

A fool, an ignoramus, I’m silly, I know,

I trust in the clarity of the arrow.

Yet it’s a thought by no means cheerful,

Ignorant me, I can’t but help being woeful.

I care too much, you see,

I can’t help it, it’s me.

Everyone thinks a fire is strong,

They know not, they are wrong.

A fire has a strong façade and more,

But when one strikes the inner core;

The naivety,

The vulnerability.

It scares me.

An Encounter

A gentle breeze swept through the college, bringing a split-second sense of peacefulness to the bustling students hurrying about the campus.
“Maia!” A twig crunched behind the elder girl and she turned, the sunlight reflecting momentarily upon her face, creating an unusual radiance that harmonized with her outfit.
“Maia,” I repeated, struggling to keep the books in my arm from sliding onto the floor as I stared into the veil of trees, trying to make out the figure of my classmate. “Wait up.” My body shook as I stifled a sneeze.
“Are you all right, Michelle?” The girl next to me asked, a concerned frown playing across her pretty face. “You’ve been sneezing all morning."
“I’m fine, Tai Yun” I reassured my friend as we walked up to Maia. “It’s merely a touch of the flu.”
Maia, as we discovered, was deep in conversation with a lecture-mate (as I found out later) of ours. A lecture-mate I’d never noticed right up till that moment.

“Hi,” he waved casually at me and my companion as we approached, smiling. I just stood there and stared. Those ever-slithering books of mine as well as my compulsion to sneeze were forgotten the instant I set eyes upon this particular lecture-mate I didn’t even realise existed. His bashful smile could best be summed up in one word – captivating.

I stood there and gaped for a long time, vaguely aware that he was saying something to me, although my brain refused to register human speech of any sort at that precise moment.

Forget the fact I had long since harboured a secret shyness of strangers. Forget the fact I had difficulties looking acquaintances I’ve been seeing for five whole months in the eye. This guy was amazing, outstanding, The Unbelievable Exception.

“Well…bye,” He muttered after a while as he reluctantly backed away, obviously unwilling to end the conversation. “See you all around, yeah.”

“Yeah.” I parroted dumbly. “Yeah.”

The instant he was out of earshot, I turned to my classmates with huge eyes as I gestured wildly, searching for the appropriate vocabulary required for a situation as such.

“That guy…who is he?” I finally managed to produce a question in a barely audible awed whisper.

“Why, our lecture-mate, of course,” Tai Yun replied.

“What? I’ve never seen him before!”

“He’s from the scholarship class,” Maia added.

“Wow. I mean, wow. Did you…did you see…his smile? Wow. It was amazing,” I muttered, mostly to myself.

My friends were starting to give me the weird eyeball and I didn’t blame them.

“Did you…did you guys see his teeth?”

“What about his teeth?” The dark-haired maiden next to me asked as she stooped down to pick up one of my invariably sliding books that had evidently found a new resting place on the floor.

“His teeth. They were perfectly straight. And I mean straight! Goodness gracious, I’ve never seen anyone with teeth as straight as such. It was as if they were set using a ruler or something.”

“Gee, a lot of people have straight teeth too,” Maia volunteered.

“That’s not it. His teeth were so straight, they didn’t seem real,” I explained. My companions didn’t get the point. How could they, when they were concentrating on the conversation and I was feasting my eyes on one of the most eerily perfect sets of teeth I’d ever seen?

Eerily perfect was right. The unnaturalness of the teeth made one feel as if one were in a horror novel where the teeth would eventually turned out to be some sort of weird phantom. It was something right down Stephen King’s lane – indeed, I recall having read a story by King entitled “Chattery Teeth” a couple of years ago.

As I headed in the direction of the lecture halls with my associates, a shiver ran down my spine and I sneezed. Then again, it could just have been my bout of constantly recurring flu, returning to haunt me.

Hah, tricked you all, didn’t I? Sorry, there isn’t a romantic conclusion to the day. ;)

But I’m actually serious. This human has the most unnatural, eerily perfect set of teeth I’ve ever set my eyes upon. He scares me. O_o

Humans

They say that each person is unique. What, may I ask, contributes to the shaping of a humanoid? Genetic factors? Environmental influences? Personal experiences?

Upon arriving at my college half an hour earlier because of my decision to walk (yes, mon chere, walking to my college is actually quicker than taking a bus but I am not going to write about deranged buses, for that is a topic to dwell on another day), I was suddenly overwhelmed with questions pertaining the differences between humans. I should think humans are like…onions. (Great, now I sound like that donkey from Shrek.)Permit me to take you on a journey into the various layers of homo sapiens.

First and foremost, we have physical appearances. A mask that covers the other layers, it may or may not be an accurate depiction of one’s inner layers. People often say that beauty is only skin-deep and we should not judge a book by its cover. Unfortunately, a large portion of humanity can be very shallow and fall for facades. Allow me to pose a question: Would you still love your family if they were involved in a freak accident, consequently becoming scarred for life? How about your partner? Your friends? Your classmates/colleagues? How many of you will still stay by the so-called “loved one”’s side when said person is permanently disfigured?

I wonder how many people are still braving this expedition with me. Regrettably, I daresay quite a lot of individuals would have forsaken this quest by now due to their untoward inability to see past the first layer. Now is when things start to get complicated. You see, the inner layers are mostly blended together in such a way that one would find it impossible to tell where one layer begins and where it ends. Layers upon layers overlapping each other, dancing an eternal dance of the layers, held together by something far more complicated than sigma bonds.

Think of it as graphite, if you wish, although graphite isn’t quite the same with its distinct layers. Elementary, my dear Watson. Or perhaps, not quite so elementary after all, considering the fact scientists have been attempting to puzzle out the exact science behind the complexity of human nature for centuries and are still trying to do so. The inner layers shine out from beyond the first layer, emaciating a special glow that envelopes the first layer. Sadly, some people have a strange handicap named “superficiality” whereby the unfortunate being is unable to see exceptional radiances.

Moving on from the inner layers that define our personality, we have the nuclei.

(All right, I confess – I’m still stuck in Chemistry Test Mode.) It is the central, the very core of what our true nature really is. Seldom shown to others because of its vulnerability, this nucleus is what some would call “the deeper aspect”. This may or may not be a direct contrast of one or more of the previous layers. Owing to the fact it is made of very delicate matter, this core is very much sought after, but only a select few will have the privilege of discovering it.

Will anyone really unearth the secret of what delineates a person? I doubt it.

PROLOGUE

19th April 2998, day three in Serene Settlements.

Memories…so many memories…all of them buried deep in a drawer at the back of my mind. No, I am not trying to forget them, quite the contrary in fact. I need to unlock the drawer…and remember. Happy, sad, angry, frustrated recollections…recollections that a fifteen year old like me had no business having! Till this day, I do not know what truly happened, and I probably will never find out either. I wonder if things like this happen to everyone, only they keep quiet and never tell their tale.

I know I am in an asylum. Do you think I do not have eyes? I can see for myself. The guards like to patrol those cells every half hour or so, in case the “mentally disturbed patients” harm themselves. Only we aren’t supposed to call them guards. They are Ms. Iris and Ilea, our so-called friends. And that means ‘guards’, you and I both know that. Mentally disturbed patients. Hah. Why don’t they just come right out and call us lunatics? I know I probably shouldn’t take it out on Iris and Ilea. They have good intentions, after all, and it wasn’t their fault I was stranded in this prison.

Nevertheless, those women get on my nerves all the time, with their slow, deliberate voices, almost as if I was a three year old. I am already fifteen, perhaps elder. Also, you know the way identical twins sometimes finish their twin’s sentences? Well, Iris and Ilea are like that, only they do it all the time. Iris never finishes her sentences and Ilea always completes them. I wonder how they cope when they get separated. Iris would probably go like, “So, how…?” to some random person while Ilea, in a different place would go like, “…are you?” That would indeed be a hilarious situation and I wish I could be there to see it if it ever happens. However, those two seem to be inseparable and it is enough to drive anyone up the wall to listen to their talk…that is, if they haven’t already went off their rocker in the first place.

In addition to that, Iris is the twin with a loud, hearty voice while Ilea has this high-pitched, scratchy voice. Do you still wonder why they work in Serene Settlements? I guess it is the only place anyone can bear their contrasting voices completing sentences. Iris and Ilea are tall, pale and dark-haired. The colour of their skin is unreal. There’s always this ghostly tinge and the twins seem to radiate this chilly aura despite their warm personalities. I wonder if it is because they meet with so nutcases everyday. They also have worried frowns on their faces, and narrowed, suspicious eyes. All of the guards in Serene Settlements have the same look. Serene Settlements…such a dumb name, but perfectly suitable for a funny farm.

I have a room mate, or rather, cell mate, incidentally. Her name is Sara and she’s pretty nice except for her tendency to suddenly start kissing the wall as she hangs herself by the legs from her bed frame. Sounds impossible, but you have to see her before you get what I mean. Otherwise, she’s quite peaceable and twists loose strands of hair around her finger, humming a melodious tone. I have tried to ask her the name of that song, but I don’t think I can get her to understand me. She just stares up at me dreamily with this wide grin on her face whenever I attempt to strike up a conversation.

Poor girl, her mind has completely gone, probably just like all the other inhabitants of Serene Settlements. Except for me, of course. I have not lost my marbles…not yet, at least. I have no idea how long it would take for my mind to give out in this dreadful place. One day, I will be one of those broken-spirited people, wandering around the hallways of Serene Settlements, mumbling to myself, asking everyone the truth…what is true and what is not. This place has that effect on people, you see. I stared at the pure white wallskin with the tiny grey swirls, spinning forever and ever. Looking down at the blank piece of compaper on the desk in front of me, I pressed the button on my simple chain that activated my e-pen. I needed to write the whole story down…to let everyone know the true story. Permit me to take you for a stroll down the forbidden memory lane, the memory lane that was not supposed to belong to me…

This is a work of fiction, written for amusement during a period of excessive boredom.

風火の雲氷炎

土曜日 秋 霧

おさない て に すすんだ

ふるえてる その ひかり を

ここまで たどてきた

ぎかん の ふし を さまよい

さがし すずけて きたよ

なまえ さえ しらないけれど

ただ ひとす の おもい を

あなた に てわたしたくて

とき わ あ い も いたみ き

ふかく だきとめ

けして ゆくけと わたし わ

おぼえている

ずとー

わたし の むね の おく に

いすからか ひびいて いたー

よすゆ の しずく より も

かすかな ささやきだけど

いてすく ほし の やみ え

すむぐ いのり が

とどく よう にー

ルオ ハオ ヱンさん,

風ー火

ゆエ しン

Stop. Ponder.

It annoys me greatly when I come across people moaning about the unfairness of life and their imperfect existence just because something does not according to their plan. Stop whinging on about your unfortunate subsistence. I can guarantee that at least a million people out there are less fortunate than you.

Most of you aren’t physically handicapped. Certainly all of you aren’t mentally handicapped for you apparently have sufficient intelligence to read and comprehend this sentence. In fact, a lot of physically handicapped people don’t complain, but take life as it is, facing challenges each day with admirable courage.

Obviously, you have a roof over your head and victuals when you need it. (What are you doing online if you can’t even afford food or shelter?) You apparently have access to the Internet.

Hence next time when you open your mouth to complain, think of the less fortunate. Think of the mentally handicapped. Think of the people who starve to death, cold and lonely. Think of the homeless. That’s it. Stop being so self-centred for once, honestly.

Be happy you can actually afford normal clothes instead of bawling your eyes out just because you can’t buy that pretty Laura Ashley dress. Some people have to go about clad in rags.

Be pleased you can actually afford sufficient education to enable you to read this instead of blaming the world just because you can’t meet the expense of going to Oxford. Some people don’t have the opportunity to learn reading skills.

Be glad you can actually afford to have your meals instead of complaining that you don’t get enough steaks, abalones and whatever. Some people starve to death.

Be satisfied you have adequate finances to afford Internet access. Some people never set eyes on a computer in their whole lives.

Be thankful for each and every of your blessings. Count all the good things providence gave you instead of the bad things in life. The world can do with more cheerful people instead of self-indulgent, pathetic and shallow people behaving morosely like an inferior little horror.

We are like dancing butterflies fluttering across life’s deep sea, all living for the moment. Beware, lest you slip and fall into the watery depths of life. It is hard, but not impossible for a butterfly to re-emerge from the waters – the way it breaks out of its cocoon and flies away freely, as a unique and dazzling butterfly.

Life is as fragile as a glass ball on a table’s corner. Do not waste your subsistence by complaining, but do something meaningful. Contrary to popular belief that one should do something of importance in order to be remembered when one is long gone, it is not the greatness of the deeds one does, but the extent of influence one has on others. You have the power to change the world, yet you can achieve that by changing one person.

You don’t necessarily have to be rich and famous to be considered successful. The true meaning of life isn’t so that people should remember you for decades to come. It is the influence you have on others – the people you’re closely acquainted with. You do not have to live on in memories as a name, but rather live on in memories by your deeds. The greatest sense of achievement comes from knowing that you’ve brightened someone’s life, if only for a mere second. That one second is what the world needed.

PS: Occasional complaints are normal and acceptable. Self-centred people are defined as the pathetic branch of the human race that believes everything revolves around them and sulk for weeks on end (give or take) just because something doesn't go right for them.

A story without the vowel “e” with obvious exception of title. (A reader challenged me to attempt this.)

“Do you think cows can fly? I saw a cow fly. ” A dirty-looking boy said softly at Solomon’s Roads.
“And pigs can fly too,” I said, smiling.
“It’s not an untruth,” this boy said indignantly.
“All right,” I said, humouring him. “Show this girl a flying cow.”
Thus, our young lad brought yours truly to a tiny rundown barn down a path off Solomon’s Roads. I shall abstain from portraying said barn’s aroma for I worry administrators would bring a particular humanoid into custody on indict of polluting minds of our young scholars.
I saw nothing but a skinny cow with this black coat of fur that I thought was originally brown. “Moo,” said Blawn.
“John, this cow can’t fly,” I told my youthful pal.
“It can fly. I saw it,” insists my childish companion.
“All right,” said I again, about to turn away and walk off.
John told Blawn “Cari bombi loo lanny ma kalia phsaki rani santai.”
I always thought this child was odd. I was about to say a word or two but Blawn was sprouting a pair of pink crystal wings at that point. Blawn hung in thin air by his wings. Gobsmacking but spot on. Cows can fly, I murmur ramblingly.
It did not occur to yours truly right away that Blawn was no ordinary cow. “Wow. Cool,” I told Blawn. It was a wrong thing to say. For an unknown basis, Blawn took an instant look at this girl and did not akin to what it saw…
“Do you think cows can fly? I saw a cow fly. ” I said softly at Solomon’s Roads, soot framing my mug, dust and dirt clinging to my clothing.
“And pigs can fly too,” an old man said, smiling.
“It’s not an untruth,” I said indignantly.
“All right, show this guy a flying cow.”
I think “Cool” is Blawn’s word for “Kick” in human vocalizations.

A story without the vowel "a". (Of course, except for this title.xD)

Once, there used to be this huge country house right in the middle of town. Five beings resided in there, one from this world, two not from this universe, one from the skies, one from the undergrounds. They lived blissfully until the time the white monster from Iou turned up unexpectedly. Hence, the nice beings invited the white monster in for lunch. Surprisingly, the white monster decided to join them for dinner too. The white monster showed them plenty of cooking tricks, before he went off. So, the being from this world decided to try the tricks the white monster showed him, yet the other beings decided to try the tricks too. People told them plenty of cooks spoilt the broth, but they never listened. They put too much pepper in their morning serving of food, blowing off the roof of their mouth. Thus, they were forced to visit their doctor, this odd guy who only wore green shirts with this purple tie. The doctor told them they were considered to be lucky for despite the red smoke coming out of their mouths, they did not explode from the result of consuming too much of the explosive condiment – pepper from Jupiter. He stitched up their mouths, told them not to jump for the next twenty-four hours, consequently sending them home. The five beings were very sorry for themselves in the end, vowing never to invite white monsters from Iou into their country house in the middle of town in future.

“Education divides, rather than unites society.” Discuss.

It is of my belief that education causes division rather than amalgamation, as is the common fallacy of our society. I quote the well-renowned poet, William Butler Yeats on his take of education: “Education is not the filling of a pail but the lighting of a fire.” Unfortunately, education is something that does not merely remain dormant within every educated being but is of a somewhat explosive nature and erupts automatically whether one chooses to let it or not.

“True education makes for inequality; the inequality of individuality, the inequality of success, the glorious inequality of talent, of genius,” the famous educator, Felix E. Schelling commented. The fact that individuals of our society inadvertently receive varying degrees of education consequently indicates the unavoidable class disparities amongst the public exists. A poem by Ghulam-Sarwar Yusof, The Midnight Satay Vendor is a prime example where the poet expresses the differences induced by education, especially the final paragraph:

“but education tells me I am halus, he kasar

for don’t you see I’m a Shakespeare-wallah

with this degree that clings to me like a vise

and a middle-class air-conditioned nose?”

Moving on from class discrimination provoked by the measure of education one receives, the disputes between similarly educated people can also be caused by scholarly pursuits. Some people, after receiving considerably decent education have a tendency to develop their own trains of thought and are too obstinate to accept differing views. Epictetus voiced a similar opinion on this matter: “It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows.”

I would also like to highlight the astounding fact that knowledge can be misused in a huge number of ways. A Scottish author, Saki (H. H. Munro) once wrote: “But, good gracious, you’ve got to educate him first. You can’t expect a boy to be vicious till he’s been to a good school.” The ability to poison minds via the media and communication as well as the capability of endangering one’s health is in the hands of the learned. With education, one has the power to trigger wars and construct weapons of mass destruction, hence inciting division.

Regrettably, education can be considered a temptress for she entices people to take advantage of the less knowledgeable. “A man who has never gone to school may steal from a freight car; but if he has a university education he may steal the whole railroad,” as Theodore Roosevelt so quaintly put it. The less educated public are more vulnerable to exploitations by the so-called sophisticated people. Therefore, we can observe obvious class segregations in instances as such whereby the victims of con-cases usually did not receive sufficient education.

In conclusion, I would like to reaffirm my perspective that education divides, rather than unites society. The writer and historian Henry Brooks Adams inscribed these golden words of all time: “Nothing in education is so astonishing as the amount of ignorance it accumulates in the form of inert facts.” It is the cause and core of social problems faced by humanity and consequents in the fissures and craters hidden behind the many facades of civilization.

“Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” – Nelson Mandela

A Cursory View of Social Disparities in Our Current Society

The rich:
~It is considered fashionable to wear articles of clothing or jewellery that caused the death of animals.
~Thanks to your generous contribution, thousands of trees are cut down every year because of your excessive usage of paper. (Bills.)
~Inflation is caused by your willingness to pay a high price for goods.
~You sometimes do not pay for your food because you found it to be unsatisfactory.
~Just because you don’t like the way your fish was fried, you have a right to send it back and yell obscenities at the restaurant owner, demanding a full refund.
~Drinking liquor and swearing at night clubs is a mark of status and a form of entertainment.
~Paranoia of thieves/robbers is granted.
~Shopkeepers are polite and efficient. They offer you their best goods and they give you special discounts you don’t even have to ask for.
~Platinum/Titanium credit cards promising membership privileges and the best discounts are offered to you wherever you go.
~You have never truly looked behind the eyes of people from the lower class and considered their life story
– Hawkers are just robots you program to cook your food so you can gain nourishment. Toilet cleaners are cleaning machines you can program to keep your bathroom clean and sweet-smelling.

The poor:
~The World Wildlife Fund probably loves you because you never buy garments or ornaments that will endanger an animal’s life – you can’t afford to!
~You’re also loved by forest rangers because you used every bit of empty space available on a piece of paper before disposing of it – at the recycling centre in exchange for money.
~You quietly pay for your food and swallow down every morsel even though it is inedible.
~If the restaurant messed up your order you either shrug, eat it anyway or you enquire politely regarding the mix-up.
~Drinking liquor will get you labelled a good-for-nothing drunkard.
~You don’t have to worry about thieves because you have nothing to lose, literally.
~Shopkeepers give you the weird eyeball when you walk into their shop and they don’t pay much attention to you except to make you sure you don’t steal anything.
~Banks are reluctant to approve your application for a Visa Card.
~You can usually relate to the working-class people either through personal experience or relations who work under the same situations. It is understood that each plate of rice you order from a food stall did not come easily.
~Cherishing what you have is second nature to you.

This is a cursory view of social discrepancies in our present civilization; hence all the stuff I crapped up does not necessarily apply to everyone and is only a very rough (probably highly inaccurate) generalization
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Actually, I just thought we needed an update. ^^;;
……
Okay, fine. I admit it. I was bored and in a crazier mood than usual. =P