Whaddiswrong?

Okay, I finally visited my own blog, and I realized, the photos aren't showing!

Does anyone see the photo-thing of my messy desk at the top of the page?

Or the orange line-thing on the left of the site?

Or the line breaks between posts?

Or the photos in that "Looking Back" post?

'Cause I sure can't.

The College Search that resulted in The Headache

Nobody said it'd be easyyyyy.....

Sigh.

I'm NOT applying to Ivies, but looking at the 'Class of 2011' pages of several universities I'm interested in, it sure does feel like I'm applying to an Ivy.

It sure seems like everyone applying to the US was in the top 10% of their high school class.

How else would you explain the never-less-than-60% "Students in top 10% of HS class" in every university's Freshmen Academic Profile pages?

Applying to a substandard university that accepts almost all of its applicants just wouldn't cut it.

I'd be better off studying in Malaysia, no?

It's already September, I've only got a tentative list of Universities-To-Apply-To, I've barely properly started applying, and I'm still waiting for the viewbooks.

I've got a plethora of ideas for the essays, but none strong enough to stand on its own.

I've got to whittle down my list of colleges,
write, edit and proofread essays that make or break your chances of admission,
prepare and sit for the SAT, TOEFL and SAT 2,
fill in an overmuch number of forms,
get teacher evaluations and school transcripts...
all while eyeing the different deadlines for the colleges.

Oh, and not to mention studying and sitting for The Trials and The Finals.

And it's already September.

Just yesterday, Isabel went, "But applying to US universities very very hard wor.."

Yes it is.

Yes it is.

It makes you feel very small.

Very, very small.

(And getting a bloody C5 in SPM Malay does not help things.)

Sighhhhh.

It gives you big headaches as well.

Nevermind, it's only September.

Only September!

Pre-Merdeka Excitement

I need to get this in before it's Too Late.

You guys, take as many photos as you can this thursday night / friday!

Because in case you haven't realized, this is a humongous milestone for our country, right, and 50 years later we'll all be almost 70 year-olds, and then you'll appreciate the photos you took.


You know how the old, yellowing photos are being published / displayed, and people look at them and go "Wow"?

It's going to be like that when we have grandkids.

They're gonna look at us celebrating our nation's 50th Independence Anniversary (also known as Malaysia's 50th birthday!), they're gonna see how far our country has come, and they're gonna go "Wow", too.

They will.

So. Take more photos.

And have fun celebrating!

Colleges. Not a real update.

Urgh. Who knew looking at universities can be such a headache!

Wouldabeen so nice if someone could just chuck me a list of good colleges, then I'd look at their websites, decide the campus looks nice enough, and that's it.
Done. Send in application.

Even nicer if "send in application" meant write an email that goes "Hi I am Chooi Yen would like to attend XXX college would like tons of financial aid bye!"

And the worst disadvantage of living in Malaysia - no personal campus tours.

It probably seems a little shallow, but I judge a school/college by its library. Big, rich, student-centered schools are supposed to have big, beautiful libraries.

Which is why my first visit to the Taylor's library was such a disappointment. Saddest little library I've seen.


I was reading the newspapers, and there was an advertisement by some UK university.

Their attempt to convince you to study there?

"Results-focused learning."

Now, how can that be an advantage?

It gives you the impression of a very single-track minded school, with lecturers that drill you until you get decent grades.

Not my cup of tea hot chocolate!

Looking back.

I just bought Underclass Hero!

So that's another RM46.50 gone. And just when I've managed to save a bit of money.

I was told that you could get the Malaysian edition of it for RM29.90.

But the way I see it, what's the point?

I mean, the best thing about buying/getting a new album is being able to flip through the booklet while you play the CD for the first time.

It's all very exciting.

(It's somewhat like having the very first bite off a solid chunk of chocolate. Nothing tastes better!)

Anyway, that's not the point.

While I was paying for the CD, my mom very loudly went, "I thought you don't like them anymore? You said you duwanna buy their CD....."

I then had to explain it was Linkin Park's CD I didn't like.

(Every time I get a new CD, she'd ask what band it was, and I'd say the name, and she'd go, "Never hear before wan?". But that's only 'cause all she knows is Linkin Park and SUM 41.)

I told her the only reason I hadn't gotten any SUM 41 albums lately was because they hadn't released any albums, up until now.

Which brings me to the point of this post.

How time flies.

I mean, the last time SUM 41 had their album out, I was in Form 3.

Form 3!

I would be going through the PMR Geography paper (which I thought was waaaaay hard), and I'd be staring at questions I didn't know the answer to, but my mind was doing its own countdown till the day the album would be out.

It was something like October 12th or 15th.

It could be that PMR was over on the 12th, and the album release was on the 15th.
Something like that.

See? I remember.

(I don't remember where you can find petroleum in Malaysia, or where lada hitam is planted, but I remember Chuck's release date.)

Oh, I digressed.

Lu had a recent post on her blog, and she was talking about the night all of us were in Morib.

It's very contradictory, actually.

If you think about the things we've done,
like lying under the stars, singing songs, talking about everything and nothing in particular,
or like waltzing the night away to a rock song on a special friend's birthday,
like going completely crazy in our hotel rooms during trips year after year,
or going ang pao hunting and being followed by an Indian man (either that, or we were just being paranoid)....
feels like they happened just last year.



But if you think about the amazing time we've had,
the friendship that grew and was nurtured into something extra-ly special,
the utter confidence (without the least bit of doubt) that these people will be there if ever you should falter ,
the comfort we have in each other's company,
the silence we have learnt to revel in (and sometimes, the silence proves more meaningful than words could be)...
and you think, 'What? It's only been 4.5 years?!'


It seemed so much longer.


Like I said, contradictory.




It takes you a moment to realize that we've all grown up now.

Back then, college seemed like a very very distant future. It'd take forever until we graduate from high school.

But "forever" has come and gone, all in the span of four years.


We're no longer the bunch of kids who talked so much, Pn. Ng Hui Gek had to put each of us in different corners of the classroom.

No longer are we the bunch of kids who would lock ourselves in the store room during free periods, so we could dance and play air guitars and do bad boyband imitations.

We're no longer the bunch that buys coloured paper, asks for cardboard from the canteen uncle, then goes and create a group diary detailing the little "encounters" we had with our crushes (we were so young then!)


The little feuds we had seemed so naive and insignificant now.

Till now, Fui and I still occasionally talk about that time when she had a birthday party, but didn't invite me, and I thought she was mad at me.

In fact, she didn't invite me only because she thought I was mad at her.

Form 1 kids, sigh. -Shakes head-

It makes me very proud to think of where we are now.

The celebration three years ago, after getting our PMR results, going to the CHS / Kasturi award ceremony.

The celebration few months ago, after getting our SPM results, going to the CHS / Kasturi award ceremony. Though in my case, only a half-celebration =(

SPM was like THE GOAL we were working towards, the only thing we were gearing up for the whole time we were at high school.

So getting good results, was like finally getting there.

(Though if you think about it, if it was all like the working world, and SPM results were our careers, then if we all got together later, I'd be like the housewife burdened with kids and bills, while the others are CEOs and Chief-of-Surgery's and rich investment bankers.)

Okay, bad and confusing analogy. Forget that.


Now one is a JPA scholar, on the way to become a dentist (and back then I thought JPA scholars we not human, like they're a whole step above us normal people),
one is a future psychologist in the making,
another is in Taiwan, also a future dentist......


Back then, three things scared me the most (and I mean the 'scared' that makes you have nightmares).

One, growing up.

Two, family members 'leaving'.

Three, the bunch of us being strangers one day.


Number three worried me a lot.


But we're all grown up now.

We no longer have 3-hour phone conversations going on into midnight.

We don't sit around and giggle about things like crushes, like we did when we were 13.

And once we move on to universities in some country or other next year, I wouldn't be recieving SMS-es going, "Eh, wanna go watch movie?".

Or if I were feeling weird slash sad, I wouldn't be able to call someone and have her say, "I'll be over in 10 minutes", and the next thing you know, she'd standing outside of your porch, ready to hear whatever gripe you have.


Which scares me a lot.

'Cause I wonder if I'd ever find a bunch like them again.


There was once when I was deeeep in the pits for a brief period, I was very unmotivated and had a lot of "What's the point?" kind of questions, and I looked in my mail box one day and found a handmade card inside.

A smiley-faced handmade card.

And there was a poem.


If you ever feel that you can't go on
When your life just becomes too hard
And the dreams you thought were within your reach
Suddenly seem so far
When the world is on your case
And you don't have a place to run
No matter what's bothering you
WE will be by your side
WE will be the rock that you can lean on
WE will be your guide
Like a fairy tale come true
Just reach for us
WE WILL rescue you


And when I got to the end, I was completely floored.

I felt like the luckiest person in the world then, and I wanted to slap myself for having thought otherwise.

If someone asked me how my adolescent years were, I'd answer with full conviction that it couldn't have been better.

So much more than wonderful.




Thanks for everything, you guys.

Holidays / Birthdays

Jubilaaaaaation!

Right now is the beginning of a week of no-study-all-play!

Liberty, liberty, liberty!

(And that means being able to blogging as much as you want to, despite being warned against it.)

I know, it's only a-week-plus-two-days of holiday, but I'm feeling like SPM is just over.

(But if that's how it is, then like Esther says, STPM is just round the corner!)

The dreaded trials, a few weeks away.



All things sad and upsetting (like exams) aside, today was two things -

1. According to Anggit, today's Indonesia's independance day.

2. According to the then-17-year-old Paige, today's the day she turns 18.

So we obviously had to celebrate!

Unfortunately, just as we were walking to her apartment with the cake and chocolates to surprise her, she unwittingly walked out and bump into us on the way.


She said (jokingly of course) we have zero talent in organizing a surprise birthday celebration.

I say, you didn't help us out by staying in your apartment long enough!



Her taking a photo of us, taking a photo of her.


Us taking a photo of her, taking a photo of us.

(Curi-ed from her blog, of course.)



Well, happy 18th birthday!

Now you don't have to turn away when Fatoula kisses Ian! (Not like you had to in the first place.)


What else, what else.

Oh yeah.

Merdeka Day's two weeks away.

And frankly, I cannot wait.

When people have nothing better to do.

... they make up rumours.

When they really have nothing better to do, they read rumour sites, and if they're gullible enough, believe everything they read.

C'mon la, Marilyn Manson did not remove his ribs so he could perform autofellatio.

I mean, you don't ever read about the surgery actually being performed, do you?

Professional sites always include, somewhere in the lines of text, "Some believe..", or "Rumours have it.."

Only amateur-looking sites go, "MARILYN MANSON removed his ribs so he could suck his own penis!!!!!!!!!!%&**(*^!!!"

Which is never the kind of site you want to get accurate information from.

Here, in case you're like Linggesh and you want "proof".

Urban legends - Getting waisted

Ribbed for his pleasure



Or do you believe Manson slaughtered puppies at his show?


Methinks people should give the man a break.

He's one of the most talented artists right now, if you look beyond his eccentricities and weird, creepy indulgences, well he's more sane than a lot of people out there.

He wouldn't send soldiers off to war, he wouldn't wield a blade and cut people up in 11 pieces, or slash the next person he sees on the road with a parang.

He just makes music.

He drinks, but he's not the only rock artist who does.

He wears make-up, but if you think that wrong just because he isn't female, then you're a sexist. That's your problem, not his.

So, friends from high school and college, Marilyn Manson is not a freak. At least, not by your definition of freak being 'someone who removes his ribs to pleasure himself'.

And contrary to belief, listening to Manson doesn't make you a stupid, naive, angsty teen, neither does it make you (and I quote classmate) "develop your inner demons".

(Would you believe me if I told you listening to Manson can actually inspire you?)


Thankyou and goodbye!

"I gave you blood. Gallons of the stuff."

I am pleased with myself. Well, kind of.

I mean, I've always wanted to do it, yeah, but I've also always been scaaaaaared.


It's almost like where things start going wrong in a horror movie, where the hero gets cucuk-ed with large needles and has his blood sucked out. Enough blood to fill a bag somemore.

I donated blood!


They said you had to be at least 45kg to be a donor, so I got on the scale and the guy-in-charge told me I couldn't donate.

I was very sick of being, um, rejected as a donor la. First time 'cause I pierced my ears a few months ago, second time 'cause I had a bit of a sore throat.

So what do you do when you really want to do it, but you're 0.5kg under the required weight?

You jump a bit on the scale, of course.

So the needle was swaying left to right, and I went, "Boleh la. Tengok, saya 45kg."

I am a genius.


Initially the nurse couldn't find my vein, she'd keep hitting my hand, adjusting the pressure, and going, "Hmm?", which freaked me out a little. I mean, I don't want to have her poke around, looking for my vein.


Anyway.

It definitely feels good.

So good, in fact, that the bunch of us who donated were all super enthusiastic about doing it again (3 months later la).

Ying Ying looked at her blood donor booklet, which recorded the times you donated blood, and said in an ambitious kind of way, "I want to fill this book up."

Yeah.

So you people reading this, go do it!

If you're worried about the pain bit, believe me when I say, it does not hurt that much!

Just a slight sting when they give you the anaesthetics, and after that you wouldn't feel a thing.

If you think I'm bulling you, well then at least believe the Look people halfway through the blood donation give their friends (who're presumably trying to assess things first before going in themselves), the kind of Look that says, "No pain at all!"

And trust me, everyone has that Look.

If it does hurt, which it shouldn't, I guarantee you, then at least you know, and you wouldn't have to do it again. And, you wouldn't have to say you never tried.

If it doesn't hurt, well then now you know! You can start donating blood for as long as you're capable.

And y'know, this is the easiest, and possibly one of the very few chances we have of doing something even remotely heroic.

Journal entry of Not-Me

Journal entry #259:

I saw mother cry today. It was by far the happiest moment of my life.

Mom had never been the type who cried. I mean, those months of being stranded in a deserted island never got a single tear drop out of her.

Seeing her cry now, I imagine she must be really proud of me.


So far, my stay in Norway had been amazing. It was hard trying to communicate with the locals though.

Francis had brought along this English-Norwegian translation dictionary, but it was hilarious, the way he struggled to make himself understood by the locals.

I still think it's weird, for him and Maria to be spending their honeymoon here. But I'm more than thankful that my family is here to share this milestone with me.

Too bad Fritz and Roberta couldn't be here. Still, with father here in Norway, who else could take over as governor of the island?

"Ernst," dad would always say. "You should come work for me back at the island. With you around, things would be so much easier."

But that wouldn't be the life for me. Many decades ago, despite the rest of my family wanting to stay, I had made a firm decision to leave the island, . After changes upon changes, I remained more or less the same.


Tonight was... ah, this is where words fail me. It was more than amazing. It was like a vague dream during childhood, that grew into a remote yearning of a young adult, that finally blossomed into a dream-like reality.

The clapping was as loud as thunder.

With every step I took as I walked on stage, I saw the mental pictures of the journey I'd taken to finally reach here. They came on vivid and intense, solidifying the reality that I am indeed right where I am.

First step... my family fleeing to New Guinea in that state of despair.

Second step... the rough winds, the huge waves that rolled themselves into the ship.

Next step... the tree house we built at the island for mother.

Fourth step... the pirates that attacked our fort, the defence we put up against them.

Another step... Roberta's grandfather offering me a place in university.

A half-skip... the pirates agreeing to step away from piracy, to work alongside my organization, to finally put in effort for the good of the people.


As I reached the podium, there was an inexplicable bursting sensation in my chest. It must've been the huge sense of self-fulfilment, and the swelling pride of one who has achieved what he'd dreamt of, and the happiness of the sudden realization that this is it - I've finally made it!


Akmal and Hussein gave me the biggest hug at the end of the night.

I'm so proud of them.

Decades ago, they were pirates, kidnapping and demanding ransom, stealing and thieving for a living.

Now they're leaders, revered and admired by many for the work they've done.

Never have I doubted that they would be the best people to guide my organization. It had been their gargantuan effort and amazing dedication that made the organization such a success.

I guess their passion is being kept alive by the fuel of their past. They make it their responsibility to see to it that robbers at sea are given a chance to repent, to settle down and to make better use of themselves.


Being stranded at a desert island had been a blessing in disguise.

Who knows, if it were safe sailing during our trip across the sea, I might never be a laureate of the Nobel Peace Prize!


* * * * *



Heh. Dr. Santha made us watch 'The Swiss Family Robinson' as practice for the creative writing segment of our course, and we're supposed to pick a character and fast forward 10 years.

Our group chose Roberta, in a rocky relationship with Fritz.

I just thought I'd have a bit of fun bluffing up a story of my own.

Yeeeeeessssssss I want the Nobel Priiiiiiiize!

"For charity one mahhh!"

Hah, okay, I realize Peeled Garlic is becoming a bit of a Blog of Whines and Complaints.

I shall stop my griping about things now.

So lets move on to becoming a Blog That Is Like A Diary, shall we?


Right, first things first.

I got my hair straightened.

But that was like two months ago, so while I've gotten very much used to it now (and have in fact forgotten how a head full of messy, unruly hair feels like), I still get people telling me "You straightened your hair!"

Sometimes I'd forget I hadn't seen them for the past two months, and thought what they meant was that I had straightened it again.

(Hahah, it's almost like, it's only made official if you write it in your blog.)


What else?

I'm completely, utterly broke.

Had too many un-cheap meals for the past month, and when someone suggested Chili's last weekend, that was it. No more, I told myself.

So we went to Manhattan Fish Market instead, and even though that only costed me RM18 (without drinks, mind you), I had to borrow money from people. Embarrassing la.

I mean, SB said he had no money, he had only around RM15, but even he had more money than me.

Paige, now you know why I can only belanja you waffles.


What else?

I did my part for charity!

We stayed back and watched movies (for charity), we went to that Taylor's Charity Night (for charity), we sold fruit juices (for charity)!

(Which also contributed to my being broke.)

But I had fun!

But I gotta say, it was a bit weird during the Charity Night.

I mean, people were cheering like gila when Estranged came on, but when they started playing, it was almost like everyone just switched to silent mode.

When they started playing 'Itu Kamu', and the crowd was beckoned to sing to the chorus, I saw Anggit wanting so badly to sing along.

Unfortunately, it was very awkward because everyone was just sitting there, staring ahead.

But we got to have photos taken with Azwin Andy, which more than compensated for everything else!


Charity day was pretty fun.

And for something the class decided on at the last minute, we managed to raise a pretty good amount of money!

And for once, I put my camera to good use.

G10 people, hard at work.

Who knew manning a drinks stall could be such hard work, and would leave you feeling so ultra dirty, what with stray pieces of cut fruit here and there, and blender/juicers randomly getting at people.

Paige, with her pants rolled up. And her signature slippers.

Bananas bought for us by our mentor, Mr. Yap.

(I know, of all things available, he had to buy bananas?)

Speaking of Mr. Yap.

He got dunked and the dunking booth. And Paige was there to video him.

It was really funny, he was sitting there, pointing to all of us, then went, "You ah, minus one mark!"

He kept repeating that - "Minus one mark! Minus one mark!"





He found the video by searching his name at YouTube.

What person goes to YouTube and searches his/her own name?

Mr. Yap, evidently. And you have to, if you have a student like Paige, who takes photos/videos of people without them knowing, who has previously uploaded a video of you during a Chemistry class, trying to pronounce "algae".

("'Al-jee' or 'al-gay'?")

The messy aftermath.

The kind of mess that makes you want to quietly run away so other people who have to clean up wouldn't notice you weren't there to help out.

I didn't run away, obviously. I was there, taking the photo above.

Group shot!

Esther says we would really miss SAM once it's all over. I agree.

Oh, one more thing.

Dr. Santha being pie-ed!

People like Kah Chong would probably enjoy this, 'cause his class seems to really, really dislike her.

I wonder if those were protective goggles, of are they just her usual large, reflective glasses.

She bought apple juice from our stall. I know 'cause I was the one who made it for her.

Paige has got a very detailed post on the charity drive. Go there!

(Hahah, read the last paragraph, man. I'll nod my head to that!)



I dunno how to end this post, so I'll just say - bye!

Laziness is not an excuse

Okay, so I've got a pretty good idea why G10 isn't doing so well in the exams.

I mean, we'd lament how hard the paper was, but look, people from other classes are not failing, so why are we?

We had Janarthan join us for lunch today.

Janarthan from G10,
who is pretty much Janarthan from G10 whose permanent fixture in class is the seat directly in front of the lecturer,
who is Janarthan from G10 whom people sit next to only when all the other places are filled up,
who's also Janarthan from G10 who'd ask the lecturer waaay-out-of-syllabus questions which people would roll their eyes to,
the same Janarthan from G10 who's always 10 rows away from the group during LAN classes.

When you come down to it, Janarthan from G10 is pretty much Janarthan-who-doesn't-want-to-be-in-G10.

Anyway. Esther invited him along for lunch, and I think, we were almost dissecting him, what with the questions we were asking the poor dude.

I mean, they ranged from mild, harmless ones like "Do you have any siblings?" to weird ones like "Do you think some girls are pretty, or do you see all girls the same?" to even weirder ones like "Do you talk to your siblings?"

It was hilarious in a way, but when a guy spews forth phrases like "My work is my play", and seems to find studying so extremely NOT-boring, it just amazes generally lazy people like us.

What was even more hilarious was that while we were amazed at some of his replies, HE was even more amazed to learn that we hate studying.

SO amazed, in fact, he went, "Oh. My. God."

Yeala, he said it like that, a short pause after every word, which obviously means he's VERY AMAZED.

Anyway.

My personal realization that we are putting in near zero effort was when he asked how many hours a day we spent studying.

That was all it took.

"Zero! I don't even open my bag!"

"My bag never even leaves the car!"

"I got study a bit la... er, biology homework lo."

Which, might I add, only occurs once every few weeks.

No wonder we don't do too well.


I ter-found a classmates blog an hour ago.

There was this post on how G10 always fares worse than other classes, then this person proceeds to explain why this is so by putting in photos of what G10 people do in class.

There were people eating, playing with cellphones, the usual.

And then there was a photo of me, reading a magazine under the desk during maths.

Not the first time, mannnnn.

Once, I was happily reading under the desk again, when suddenly Mrs. Lim, having another one of her boring naggy talks about How a Person Should Behave, suddenly called out me name.

Obviously I was ultra worried la, Mrs. Lim is not a person to cross. Hell hath no fury like a Mrs. Lim scorned.

For one thing, she nags a lot when she is in an uptight sort of mood.

Fortunately, she was just trying to tell me to perk up a bit more in the mornings while walking into college, because I was so zombie-like I didn't even notice her car coming up behind me.

I nodded my head and "uh-huh" a couple of times, and she returned to her long boring talk on Why G10 Is Not Succeeding In Life (Because G10 Has The Wrong Attitude).

After that, even Catherine, who was also reading under the desk, was too worried to continue reading.

So we pretty much just focused on the papers and graphic calculators on the table which we'd really put out only for decoy purposes.


Ahhh, foolish young minds.

Since when had a decent TER, a good course at a reputable university, and a bright future been worth sacrificing for a few maths lessons of reading CLEO magazine?

Not worth it at all.