The Forced Blog

SAT IS OVERR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FINALLY. It is done. To be honest, I did not really feel the liberation of spirit until Zera actually brought me to light. And now, a liberated male is at hand. Not Bruno of course.. Haha.  

(Four hours after SAT exam is over).. Sitting at home listening to raindrops patter on the roof can sound a little too sentimental. But yes, SAT is over and it just has to rain today. Why couldn’t it be any other day when it was just blistering hot just now and now it’s raining?! Which brings me to an event that happened just two days ago.

In my previous post, I wrote about ant watching. Some thought I was crazy. Others thought it was a cool activity to do, even going further to recommend squirrel and dog watching. However, on Thursday, it was right before the usual tennis session with Nigel that something really profound and disgusting happened in my apartment. As I was filling up my tumbler with water for the game, I noticed red movements on the table, thus alerting Nigel to the scene right before us. And lifting the plastic bag up, we saw thousands of ants crawling and running about on the table. Being a clean freak at times, I thought of killing these ants. How Nigel could be so kind, I do not know. He even went further to protect these ants calling them ‘poor beings’. They were just searching for food. And indeed they were. There were these small white bread crumbs on the table (as Nigel called them) which made me believe him. They were just carrying the bread crumbs back to their base.

SUDDENLY.. I realised. The bread crumbs were not really bread crumbs. Could bread crumbs be alive and moving? The hard truth hit me hard when I saw that they were really MAGGOTS. BABY MAGGOTS. Oh, my.. That hard truth. Of all things, these maggots were crawling around. And soon, another truth hit me. The maggots were FODDER for the ants. THEY WERE THE FOOD. Crawling around, they were trying to avoid the ants. And soon, one ant came to a maggot trying to pull it with ‘HIM’. Soon, another type of ant came into the picture. It was bigger and seemed more bold and brash. Probably the soldier ant, I guess.

THE FACT WAS.. the maggots were being brought back to Nazi camps for murder and food. How disgusting these creatures were and yet, a feeling of pity I felt for them. They could just not escape. Well, what could I do? I could not just lift them up. I thought of Sheltox, but then again, there wasn’t any. So, I LEFT.

The point is, no matter how disgusting a thing or person can be, there is the need for survival. What more in this age? Every man for himself is brought out in everyday life. Students themselves fight for places in universities. Backstabbing and everything. We always seem to remember those who made it and the success stories that seemed to good to be true. But how about those who did not made it? Do we ever bother to ask? Or are we numbed to such feelings of compassion? Has apathy ever been that bad?

Yes, these maggots are disgusting. But then again, they deserve to live. Everyone deserves a second chance. It could be the only time that they can truly shine. How these maggots shine, I don’t know. But at least they have been given a second chance. Sadly, that is not the case in today’s world. That is harsh reality. The only thing we can do is to affect those around us and hopefully, they will notice and start to affect others.

Probably, I should have just helped the maggots. But then again? Courage is needed. I failed in that aspect back then and it is a lesson well learnt.

      Shalom.

It has been quite some time since a post has been published here. My dear readers, I apologise if I have kept you waiting longer than you should be. Even as I type this, I feel as if a connection has been established again between me and this blog. Anyway, this dear morning have brought out the morning blues in yours truly and so I shall add, I AM SLIGHTLY BORED. Bored, you say? That’s kind of normal.. But for an individual like me, to be bored is akin to saying that there is nothing left to do. NOTHING. Need I repeat that? I doubt so.

    As time flew, SAT 1 passed. The foundation exams passed. Holidays passed. And now, SAT 2 looms before me. Not to mention TOEFL, which could very well be my Achilles’ heel. Yet, this week ahead of me and something terrible has struck me. BOREDOM. The very sound of this word chills me to the bone. How cold and lonely it is, for boredom strikes at anyone and no target is spared from its sight. With my literature novels and SAT books to keep me company, at least, I can find solace in words, however boring they may be at times. The internet, once a precious commodity here, is now boring. Instead, I find even more joy in the clicking of the mouse and merely open a couple of tabs just to here the sound of the mouse clicking. And the keyboard clanging. I wonder.. ‘Shall I try bungee jumping?’. There isn’t anyone in sight here for almost all have gone home. And so, it has suddenly came upon me. A new interest has caught my eye. Though eccentric and crazy it may sound, such an interesting activity could not resist me. ANT WATCHING.

  Yes, ant watching. I know, I know. You guys are shaking your heads and I don’t need telepathy to see that. Every day, I wake up to find at least an ant in my room or apartment. As Kumar complained about the ants hibernating in his laptop, it is clearly an understatement. They are everywhere. In dustbins and drawers, on the kitchen sink and the wall, and on the bathroom sink even, they flood my apartment. Not that it is such a bad thought of having animals around, but the idea of hundreds of beings living with me brings out the claustrophobia in me. Haha.. At first, and usually, I thought it best to eradicate these very beings from my apartment. Killing daily by the fifties, I became the MASS MURDERER. I etched my picture into the minds of these ants.

However, I soon came to realise my futile efforts. It was like watching Resident Evil all over again. They were just too numerous. And being smart enough, I came upon an even bigger discovery. What if I were to think like them? Wouldn’t it be so much easier? It sounds easy and so, day by day, I gazed upon these creatures. Gazing and staring, I saw how they moved about on the wall. How they suddenly stopped when danger was sensed nearby. Alas, if only I could find the main nest and watch the Queen Ant. How satisfying it would be.

  You see, many wonder what purpose can ant watching bring, or even writing about such an activity. It is not so much about the craziness of this idea. Rather, it is about the meaning behind the activity. Sometimes, we cease to understand the characteristics of other individuals. We instead, focus on ourselves. Our success. It has all become about  ‘I’. Even an activity as simple as killing the ants brings out the survival mode in me. Do we ever take time to ponder over the lives of others? How we may be able to help them, or even how they may help us. And yet, such simplicity seems to have evaded us. Rather, we focus too much on the complexities of ‘What if?’. Pondering upon these ants, I wonder. Do I ever take enough time to focus on others? Do we?

   Seemingly dangerous people which we prefer to avoid, could be the very people who can transform our lives. Similar to the ants, we have this pre-conceived notion that everyone else is dangerous. I need to survive. And so, our self needs increase while the desire to help decreases. And I do admit that I portray such behaviour at times. How shocking and yet, how true. There are times when we do not even realise the dangerous change in us. Caught up in self needs, we abandon the needs of others with ease.

However, all it may take is just a little tick to shake us to the very truth. Ant watching has done that to me. And such shaking, though rough it maybe, is nothing in comparison to the change it brings in us. When I realise how selfish I have been, I am thankful indeed for this very shaking, for such realisation can never cause an individual to remain a constant.  The big picture which has always been there is suddenly seen clearly by our eyes formerly blurred. Indeed, it brings a change. Sometimes, a little shaking  is needed to bring us to reality. To the truth and to change.

Ant watching has done that to me. The question is,” Have you been shaken?’.

Joshua Y. 09

‘Standing still in the midst of a moving crowd, I observed.’

To my dear readers, I have returned yet again. Haha.. I do find it slightly amusing to find myself writing something at this hour. It has do to with the probable truth that I find this blog rather interesting and intellectual. The same goes with Nigel. Anyway, my purpose in writing this is what spurs me on at this very hour. So here goes..

Today, 31st August , was no ordinary day for me. As do all Malaysians know, it is after all Independence Day. To me, there was a sense of pride in having this special holiday. The main reason however, is that I was going to attend a Trinity Guildhall Conferrment Ceremony 2009. Having passed my ATCL in Piano Recital last year, the convo-style ceremony was held for those who passed their diplomas in music. Grace was to attend this ceremony too.

8.00 am. Standing in the Sheraton Hotel, I was rather tired and serious having slept late the past night. In smart formal wear though, cynicism and depression filled me. I did not do much studying the whole weekend; time was running out, and here I was. The bag full of SAT books on my shoulder further weighed me down. Many people were in the hallway dressed in elegant dresses and suits; this filled me with even more contempt. I do not know why. I am naturally a sanguine and optimistic person, yet today was somewhat… different. Proceeding to a hall, we achievers were dressed in our robes and mortar boards ( the convocation hat) and photographers snapped happily away while we stood there smiling for the camera. Everyone was in a joyous mood, taking pictures together here and there while laughing. And all this while, thoughts passed through my mind with ease. What was so special about this ceremony? It’s just a place where you get your cert for something you achieved. So what? What does that prove? Is it going to change your life?

My mind still deep in thought, I went out of the hall to wait for the others to finish. Waiting with my sisters, I began to notice the surroundings. Oh, the complexity of the human character. Such an activity took me by interest. Standing in the midst of the moving crowd, I observed. Families were taking turns to take their pictures.

   And suddenly, my eyes landed upon this family standing right next to me. There was nothing unusual about them. Nothing that made them stand out from the ordinary. And yet, there was SOMETHING. The father and the daughter in her twenties were here to receive their certs. The daughter having finished her LTCL and the father, his ATCL. The mother and son were happily partaking in the joy of the family. Still nothing unusual. But then, just then, I saw two crutches leaning against the table. Two small crutches that could fit for a size only the small boy can hold. He was slightly paralysed on his right leg. And yet, I did not notice it. Suddenly realising this, I continued observing this family. The whole family was like any other family, happy and all smiles. Yet, amidst all the events that have happened, the boy caught me by the eye. What he had, others did not have.What I could not see in others, I saw now. What I lost, I now know. What others may not see, I knew. I saw…HOPE.

   A sense of hope is more than anything else we could wish for. For with hope, joy comes and the rest shall follow. With hope, even the greatest fear will not strike one down knowing that there is hope at the end. Most importantly, there was hope in this young boy. He was not a child prodigy nor a rich kid.He was a limp with crutches as his support. And yet… what more shall I say? He had more hope and joy than most of the people in the hallway. Status nor age could explain this. In today’s world, a great sense of despair and hopelessness has occupied the hearts of many. We worry about our studies, work, family and many other matters. Which causes a greater danger, that is we tend to overlook the finer things in life. Troubles seem to take hold of the heart and mind, darkening the soul day by day. With this, cynicism slowly builds up. What am I doing all this for? Why are people being so happy?

   IMMEDIATELY, all my questions vanished. The boy showed the answer with such clarity that there could be no better answer. Why worry so much? All you need is a little hope. Many paralytics today have low self-esteem and hatred due to their imperfections. And this small boy here around 7 years of age, has shown so much optimism and maturity compared to those like him. The most touching truth however, is the fact that he did not realise his imperfection. He IGNORED it. Not in an ignorant manner, but rather, he seemed perfect to himself. He did not look down upon himself. Rather, he used his imperfection to teach others. A lesson we all need in life. How many times do we need to mutter and complain about the hardships we are going through? About SAT, TOEFL and foundation.. ‘The exams are coming la wei, I’m gonna die man… Why la we need to study so hard huh? “. These questions often show up. And the truth shall hit us hard. Nothing is really difficult after all. We go through life. It all depends on the way we perceive and look at things. How we see things, they will appear to us as we see it. The boy saw himself as a young happy boy, perfect and ready to face the hurdles of life. That was how he perceived.

   The truth hit me hard. So hard, tears nearly came into my eyes. Why do I have such an attitude? Why oh why? Shouldn’t I let the daily affairs of life spur me on to success? With a sudden realization, the burdens were loosed. A new sense of hope filled me. Despair left, and a huge burst of joy filled the void. A smile was all I could muster. The family did nothing to me. And yet, through their actions, lives could be impacted or changed. It is not things that make us what we are nor do they bring about change. It is the way of living that people notice. I know. Life is hard and tough. The world is what it is today. It is bad and rotten. And people complain. INSTEAD, all we need is a little hope. All we need is some dream to spur us on; to make us realise what we are missing out on. For the little light that fills a darkened room, there is at least some sight. Imagine what it would be like if there were thousands of little lights, the room would be brightly lit up. The same goes here. ALL WE NEED IS A LITTLE HOPE. Some hope. For in every person, if there is hope; the world would be a much better place. The world needs hope. And change starts with something small as the Butterfly Effect theory shows. And so, I shall apply this in my daily life wherever I am. A little hope is what I shall start with and build it up I will to spread it around. I will enjoy the SAT exams for I know I have been more blessed in a sense than other people for having the priviledge to study. I will…. share hope.

    “The mother took the camera, while the sister and the father stood behind the boy for a final picture. And once again, the boy left his crutches on the chair. His right hand held the edge of the table for support while his left hand went up showing a ‘peace’ sign. Noticing nothing, he smiled with joy for the camera. They smiled.”

   I hope that we all realise.. and smile.

Joshua Y. 09

As much as I like Joshua’s writing in the previous post, I have to say that unlike Joshua, I am quite ambivalent on this issue.

Penning words to paper the old, traditional way is very emotional, yes, but who says using a keyboard is not? Do our emotions get lost through the complex circuitry present in technology nowadays? Nope. These serve merely as interfaces for us to jot down our thoughts, a way in which we communicate. Film composers use synthesizers and computers to composer their music. But when we look at a film, say, Pirates of the Carribean, we say, “Hell, this music is awesome!” and not, “hell, this music is so computerized.”

Perhaps the only thing that makes computers feel so distant is not because of the lack of emotion, but because of the lack of solidity. Many would prefer reading a book on paper because page turning is so much more rewarding than mouse-scrolling (not to mention much less taxing on the eyes). For that reason, people tend to shy away from reading literary material using a computer. A teenager will close the tab on Shakespeare and open a new tab for facebook instead. But then, the querulous will complain that computers have no emotion, when exemplary works of literature are all around the internet! The pros of technology are abundant, it’s just that blinded ignoramus get distracted too easily, seeking the easy way out all the time, choosing facebook over Shakespeare, choosing youtube over the New York Times. (On a lighter note, I shall admit I am one of them.)

Have you ever written letters? Not love letters, not those, but REAL letters which you seal in an envelope and post it with a stamp. (And no, scholarship applications and school assignments don’t count).  Now I think of it, I’ve only written one letter in my life. It was for my late grandmother. For this, I can see the merits in letter writing. Again, solidity plays a major role. When someone gives you a letter, it’s always to be able to hold them, to feel in your fingertips the inscribing of the words behind the paper. You then look at their handwriting, which conveys love, support and compassion in their strokes of the pen. Like our personalities, everyone’s handwriting is different. Some slant towards the left, some slant towards the right; some apply more pressure, some apply less. These insignificant details all convey our personality traits in real life. Alas, in emails, all we get is a size 12 Times New Roman!

This situation then leaves us in an unfortunate predicament.  We don’t want our emotions to be fettered, yet we need convenience. We want to write a lot of personal statements, yet deluge in the satisfaction that what we had written has been read. We need security, yet we are inclined to take risks at the same time. To pen or not to pen? That is the question.

It seems the best way to record your thoughts, in this age of time, is to blog. It is the most efficacious way of communicating your thoughts with others. The internet holds many treasures, blogging being one of them. Embrace blogging, for it may be one of your most gratifying endeavours!

Nigel

Hmm.. The Forced Blog? What sort of title could one give a blog? Apparently. that’s what my group member, Nigel, did. This being my first attempt at blogging, I can’t help but look back with some satirical humour. Never in my whole life could I foresee myself blogging right this moment. The screen before me, the wall behind me. What shall I write? Daily events? Dirty jokes? Or pictures which speaks “a thousand words”? First and foremost, I do not have any hidden agenda against bloggers or that bloggers are downright stupid. Rather, I think that blogging is mechanical. Or so it seems. A personal favourite of mine is writing letters. Though the masses may not see the difference between blogging and letter writing, yet there is a HUGE difference.

Writing and typing differs by a huge margin. Well, who would prefer to do the SAT online rather than on a normal exam paper? Would you want to stare at the screen for four hours? By the end of the year, eye cancer would be most bound to capture me by the hair laughing , ” I TOLD YOU SO”. Thankfully, the Americans have enough sense to avoid this absurd idea. But more importantly is the fact that writing comes from the heart. When one writes, emotion is poured into the very ideas jotted down on the paper. The sentences cancelled out and scribbles made in blue ink ; the sweat stained paper looking messily is more than just a paper of writing. It is the well which contains the soul of the human heart. Thoughts and feelings that we people find hard to express through speech are shared on this thin paper. In a world where sophisticated technology has taken hold of many young people, the trend of writing is slowly fading away. The emergence of scientific products such as the Internet, emails, handphones , etc. has potential catastrophic effects on the language system. SMSes taking control and short forms being used; are we really going to lose a generation which has grown up to forsake writing? As I write this, an imminent truth looms before me. I try to avoid it, but yet it cannot be hidden. Honestly, a hope for this generation in finding the right path again may seem small; however, a hope IS STILL A HOPE. A small percentage it may be, but 1% is still a percent. The love for penning down thoughts can be rekindled. How so, many ask. I say, through self- realization. No one can help you , but yourself. We may help you along the way with cheering , but the race is for you to run. The race is for you to finish.

The clock ticking sound drums in the back of my head. Time creeps by. What more shall I say? The ironic picture of a young mother feeding her baby daughter happily, though surrounded by huge piles of rubbish and dirt, plays in my mind. The same thing is happening in reality this very moment. I am succumbing to the harsh reality of blogging.

I have come to this conclusion. I need to change in order for people to change. Madam Ong’s subtle statement has hit its target. I NEED TO CHANGE . To make others realise my true intentions, I need to conform. There can be no more reasons such as to who is correct. All that matters now is conformation. And that is what I shall do. My ideas will have their fair share of content on the blog as well as on the paper. Nothing will be kept hidden. My heart poured out, emotions laid bare, I feel the same sentimentality for this very article I am blogging.  I realise something else. Something which is more prominent. It is neither the conditions we are in nor the rules we have been taught to follow that change us. Instead, it is realisation of one’s true core and essence that causes change. With purpose, comes change. Thus, the same condition applies here. No longer does the feel of the clicking mechanism on the computer hit me hard in the face. I have learnt to pour out the same emotions which I have shown in writing, over here. It has all become a matter of  adaptation. Something very useful, the ability to share feelings with the same intensity has finally dawned upon me. And grow in it, I shall.

The clock  ticks away. Minutes gone by.

I know that is the truth for the truth sets one free. And free indeed, I am. This is the first of more to come. How many more, I do not know. My patience and motivation in this may fail. Yet , I know this. Whenever I write, I put my all into it and nothing will hinder me from sharing my honesty. If I can fail at being able to make my readers feel the emotions of my thoughts, how then can I succeed in the all-encompassing field of human character..

And so long shall The Forced Blog live. Ironically, the title for the blog seems a perfect fit. Forced I was into the world of blogging. Forsaking my personal rules, I hope that along the way, The Forced Blog will no longer be The Forced Blog it is now. Rather, it will be The Forced Blog I was forced to love through persuasion. IT will be not just a blog. It will be the essence of it’s writer. Till then, live long and prosper.

Joshua Y. 09

The little salad bar at Pizza Hut was always a nice place. For one, I love consuming vegetables, and salad-stacking gave me immense satisfaction. I could spend a good 20 minutes trying to squeeze in that one last cucumber, or stack up those colourful little beans up to the point where one more extra bean would cause the whole lovely bean-family to topple.

That day was no different. My friends and I went to Pizza Hut. The need for a fresh bowl of garden salad arises, and needless to say I was the one up for the task. I walked to the all so familiar salad bar and started stacking.

I was carefully arranging the lettuce around the bowl when a girl came and stood beside me. Hunched over, I could see her grabbing a bowl, and from the little gleam in her eyes I could see her excitement about the prospect of stacking. Oh my, you should have seen her dexterity! The way her hands move so quickly and piling up the salad was mesmerizing. Comparing her to me was like comparing Usain Bolt to a 5-year-old toddler trying to run.

Unable to believe what I was seeing, I muttered a few of the the dumbest words one could say to a salad-stacker:

“Hi, you like salad too?”

“Yeah,” she said, “they’re nice.”

Lame opener aside, the conversation went really well (and so did the stacking). Turns out she was a salad freak who couldn’t live without that holy food. She imparted upon me her wisdom, which now I have forgotten all but one: something to do with using the thousand island sauce as cement to fill out the gaps.

Her name was Gina, and I never got her number.

Nigel