A Change in Tone

Unforeseen circumstances have just about proved my theory of life that if something bad (which, in general, we label as shit, which is not necessarily a bad thing) happens, it is bound to happen again.  And again.  And again.  In relation to this, I remember labeling mishap as a phenomenon that happens 'again and again and again and again', and it seems that the new semester has brought about new beginnings, some endings, and many mishaps in between that just about prove many sadists, masochists, and pessimists around, right.

Life is a rollercoaster, where you are not necessarily seated and where safety is of uttermost least concern.  Furthermore, it blindfolds you, and you are dragged through realms of darkness where obstructions in your rollercoaster's path may just about spell doom or leave you headless (and you live the last 20 seconds of your life without the feeling of your limbs, though I'm not too sure which part - head or body - is the real you anymore).  This, at least, is my pessimistic view on the description of life itself, although I have many more years to live and much more responsibilities to hold on to.

We live in a world of people of many varieties.  Blame it on genetics, blame it on cultural and religious upbringing, blame it on environmental influences - blame any more factors and we can just about blame everything.  We 'corrode' as we grow up.  Our entropy builds up over time, we garner new knowledge and experiences, although we do not necessarily throw away our old influences.  In the end, we produce... you, at least during that timeframe, not forgetting within any second, any particular characteristic of you can just randomly or influentially change.  And imagining how huge and immensely sophisticated we can be in the subatomic point of view, it is all but impossible that we all, statistically, are different.

Through the disorder and all comes fate, a thing statistics spells as 'luck' and what religion teaches as destiny.  We are fated to meet many other people, people similar (somewhat even with the countless possibilities) and different (which is definite) from us.  We are fated to interact, mingle, and associate ourselves with them.  We are fated to have the ability to think and feel, the subjective reactions that even science does not explain in its very fundamental level.  And through these complex interactions, comes the outcomes that either promote positive cognition, emotions and behaviour, or the complete opposite.

For my case, it would be mostly negative.  It is sad to say that it takes 18 years and significant months and days for me to realise that.  Most of the components of this world have come to be a physical, mental and spiritual burden rather than being the opposite.  This is indeed a good indicator that the world has come to a significant increase in entropy, and if not, at least my world.  The reasons behind are not scientific, but is of simplicity at layman level, which this blog post has not actually been portraying, but I believe becomes simpler and clearer as paragraphs go by.

Here and then comes the simply-general term 'problem' that should come in its plural form if not for this sentence's grammatical framework and my personal preference (although, ironically, I prefer its plural form in place instead).  These problems - I would imply for now directly upon those in matter the associated individuals in our lives - scientifically make us more disorganised, artistically beautify our invisible (and sometimes visible) aspects or add on to aesthetic values in life, and in layman's terms, just make us feel like crap.  Any Tom, Dick or Harry can just about tell that problems are a normal component of life, but no one, even the most brilliant of philosophers of the old times to the revolutionary thinkers of the present, can ever predict when, or how frequent, it hits.  But if experiments were ever made, and analysis was done upon individuals like me and a few specific others, results would be rather depressing.

This comes with no scientific, artistic, or layman-specific explanation.  Thus, the term, shit happens.  And I should add on to this rather unpleasant saying: shit happens, all the time.  For all you know, one problem after another comes in an almost continuous cycle that hardly gives you ample time to catch a breath and inhale joy for just a little bit.  One problem after another leaves you scars that amplify the injury caused upon another outbreak (which is to be followed by another).  In the end, it can only be amazing how we can adapt to so many, although definitely the damage done can never be incorporated into economic and scientific calculations nor estimations.  This, to me, can now be an even more important component of evolutionary biology that researchers should focus on, rather than analysis on generation-by-generation adaptations that can only be a summation of the eventual entropy increase without distinctively identifying the actual causes within the smallest scale of all these incidents, whether they be beneficial (which this blog post deems as extremely rare) or problematic, just like this blog post.  This is, of course, provided we have the technology to do so.  Unfortunately, we just don't.

So, we come to an abrupt conclusion.  Of all the nonsensical phrases and sentences you had to pull through to come to this finalising statements (or you just had to skip to see what the end of this post brings), the message here is simple.  Everyone has their personal problems, and it is not limited to just issues with other individuals, friends or foes, that we interact with in life; it can just about be caused by anything.  We grow out of it.  We become stronger in some ways, but we become weaker in many (more) other ways.  And as science would explain it, we are being destroyed over time.  And somewhat, this semester seems to contain many catalysts behind the scenes that speed up such destruction in all sorts of ways, ways that are too subjective and too personal to discuss.  After all, this post is not a post of pointless rants (which has become, unfortunately, a norm these days), or a post to vent out emotions, or a post to record 'memorable' experiences in life that serves to be a sharing for many others to evaluate or judge by their very own selves.

This post is a post of a simple reminder, ironic of all the complications that have come just to insert a simple reminder.  It's just this:

Don't ever be a problem.

Shit already happens all the time, and most of us, including me, have had just about enough to let another dropping stain our tainted shirts.

INTEC

INTEC is a place where they enrol many (if not most) JPA scholars before they pursue their degree overseas (or for those twinning, at least partially).  Most courses end up here, with distinct programmes that are suited to kill, unless your best friend is a Biology textbook:

1. A-Level Medicine (ALM) - the place where people with no life are born.  It hosts those who are in medical twinning programmes (MMC, PMC, IMU) as well as pharmacy twinning programmes (IMU or Nottingham).  Used to host direct overseas programmes too but there were no offers for direct programmes in my batch (SPM 2009).
2. A-Level Germany (ALG) - for engineering students bound to Germany.
3. A-Level United Kingdom (ALUK) - most students here do not necessarily go to the UK.  JPA scholars in this programme do go to the UK, but scholars from other bodies do not necessarily fly there but still enter this programme anyway.  Houses various courses like accounting, architecture and engineering.
4. Russian Programme - Russian-bound soldiers studying medicine.
5. Australian Matriculation (AUSMAT) - for those bound to the land down order or the land of the Kiwis.  Many different courses again, ranging from medicine and pharmacy to agricultural science.
6. ADFP/ACTP - the carefree lads and lasses bound to America.  I'm least informed about their group, but they claim to be so... free.

As for me (and unfortunately for others), I'm in the ALM group, PMC-bound, and having a 'great' time with Biology, Chemistry and Physics.  Physics is not offered to other courses in the ALM block, but they take Mathematics and Statistics instead.  It is not your decision to make, if you hate either one of the subjects, but trust me, you will end up hating Biology even more.

So, as a member of the elite group of the no-lifers in ALM, I'll browse you through some of the 'interesting' facts about INTEC that would probably give you a little bit in mind about what kind of punishment you are going to receive.  I'll be more specific for those in ALM, but first, I shall clarify about your accommodation, specifically for junior guys.

A Taste of Cendana

Accommodation for INTEC students is provided in three hostels:  Cendana in Section 6, Cemara and Akasia which are just on opposite sides of a small road in Section 17.  Junior guys have been noted to be a bit more perverted than the senior guys, hence, they are separated from the girls (and the outside world) and live on the other side of Shah Alam, in Cendana.  Cemara hosts most of the senior guys as well as a small bunch of girls, whereas Akasia is all-in for girls, juniors and seniors.  I have been an inmate in Cendana for a year (but I'm not a pervert), and yet to move to Cemara next semester in July, so I shall talk from experience about Cendana, a place in the middle of nowhere.

View from Cendana's bus stop.  They've added a "Kolej Cendana" signboard to Block 1 for your viewing pleasure.

Cendana is the latest hostel compared to the other two, so consider yourselves lucky.  Situated in Section 6, it is just simply deserted.  No supermarkets, no shopping malls, nothing.  However, finding Cendana should be an easy task as they have the most cheapskate and miniature of signboards leading you to your new miserable home.  Of course, all you need is binoculars to find those signs.

On your registration day, don't go alone.  Tag along with a friend you know that doesn't snore or make a mess or sulks about the smallest things.  Many here have learnt their lesson and suffered the consequences.  Register together and grab the same room.  This can only be done once, as most of the time, the people in charge are as stubborn as asses and will not entertain any requests for room changes.  (Bureaucracy, just to warn you.)  If possible, grab a room with an even number.  (If you do not know what's even, don't waste my time.)  Most likely those rooms will face behind towards the police station, which has been proven to be better ventilated and much cooler, especially at night.  I have suffered one year of stale air as a result of getting an odd-numbered room, but again, it all depends on your luck, unless you prefer to use chaos theory to grab an even number.

The typical room in Cendana is reasonable by dimensions, and hosts six occupants.  Two occupants in room A, which has two single beds, and four occupants in room B, which has two bunk beds.  Room A is smaller than room B, but worth fighting for.  Everyone gets a desk and chair in the living room, so while you can, grab a good place near the window or positioned nearby the ceiling fan.  Lockers are available for each occupant, so if you prefer to fight for those too, be my guest.

A view of Room B.  Another locker on the far right of this photo.

Other 'facilities' in your room include two basins - one metal and one ceramic, a food storage cabinet, a shower, a hole for a toilet, a whiteboard, shoe racks and two hangers for clothing.  The living room and bedrooms are tiled (which you will soon lose when you move to Cemara), whereas most bathrooms in Cendana are painted with cheap yellow paint for floors.

Outside, your corridors are infested by cats and their fragrant poo, so be careful where you step.  Personally, stepping on the cats themselves is greatly recommended to teach them to bring their shit elsewhere, but I don't wanna get sued for abusing animal rights.  These cats have magical powers that allow them to trash just about any trashbin in the vicinity and cause a significant mess.  Still, there are inconsiderate people, unfortunately, that do not dispose their rubbish properly, hence contributing to the major cat problem in Cendana.  Whatever it is, I suggest not to feed the cats all the babies they produce.  (And they produce them really, really fast.)

Caught in the act.

And some go to the extent of feeding the cat and her litter their leftovers.  How ethical.

In all, you have all you need to survive, and unless you have been pampered all your life, most people thrive well in such conditions.  There are a few denggi outbreaks once in a while, but as long as you (and the others) maintain high standards of hygiene, which I doubt, everything should be just fine...

Even this retarded cat in Section 6 is doing fine.

Unless you are picky about what you eat.

Eat to Live, Not Live to Eat
Around Cendana, there are limited choices.  There's 'Restoran Dawood' (which claims to be a restaurant but tastes like crap) on the main road of Section 6, just 8 minutes walk from the hostel.  This is run by Indian Muslims, and is the cleanest and most hygienic place to eat so far around here.  Just outside Dawood is a burger stall called 'Burger Samurai' that opens past 8 p.m. on weekdays which sells the most decent of burgers in this area.  (There is another one outside 7/11 just opposite Dawood but they say that one's horrendous.)  Mat Endon is a group of stalls run by Indonesians nearby the night market, about the same distance from Cendana.  Here, they serve food poisoning, enough said.  Night market opens on Tuesday and Friday nights, with all sorts of food stalls open (which you will get sick of soon enough), another alternative for those who do not wish to venture beyond Section 6.  At around half past six every evening, a van or Kancil will come over into Cendana's premises and sell food as well.  Food here is reasonably cheap (and reasonably distasteful too), but is the best option for those who wish to reduce their risk of stomach aches and walk lesser distances.

Venturing outside and food-hunting is an easy task.  The only bus that runs through Cendana is T602, which brings you on a journey to Section 2, PKNS (Section 14) and Section 9.  You will be more familiar with bus routes when you are in Cendana, because, trust me, you will venture a lot.

Just in case you have no idea what a bus looks like.

Section 2 has a KFC and a McD far up the road, but not the best choice, although it's one of the main bus stations in Shah Alam.  This is one of the places to take a bus to KL Sentral (U80).

PKNS is a huge place housing four different malls, each providing nothing of interest of course.  The PKNS building itself has nothing but KFC, McD and Kyros Kebab (no idea who goes there).  A long, long walk within the building brings you to the other side where you can see SACC Mall.  SACC hosts nothing but Noodle Station, Pizza Hut, Nando's, Secret Recipe, Big Apple and so on.  Plaza Alam Sentral hosts worse with almost nothing to eat, but it does have a bowling alley and pool tables, for those who just can't take the heat in Shah Alam.  Anggerik Mall... no one has ventured there yet.  PKNS is another hub for buses - mainly U80 to KL Sentral, U62 to Klang and Sunway Pyramid, and T529 to KTM (Shah Alam) or to Cemara and Akasia.

Section 9 is the haven for food.  Since the bus does one big round (including a rest stop where drivers take their sweet time smoking crack) just to get to Section 9, you are better off taking a taxi to Section 9 for about five bucks, but beware the scammers.  Shah Alam and all neighbouring areas are just full of them.  Plaza Masalam is the main shopping mall here, housing KFC, Pizza Hut, Subway, Baskin Robbins, Krispy Kreme Doughnuts, Old Town, Starbucks, a Japanese restaurant and a few others.  Outside hosts McD and Domino's, the main attractions of this place.  It also hosts Giant for your grocery and sanitary needs (if you are a girl in disguise), and is usually the place we all go to for proper (yet not so proper) meals.  You can never be too amazed at Shah Alam, but this place is probably the most decent of nearby places.  If your parents wish to stay over in Shah Alam (though I doubt they would even want to), Concorde Hotel would be the best option, which is just on the right of Plaza Masalam.  Concorde's the nearest hotel to Cendana so far.

In all, transportation around Cendana can be a bit inconvenient at times, especially when T602 buses do not come regularly and taxi drivers play hide and seek just to get a two-bucks surcharge for calling their hotline.  Karma will do her job one day.  As for the best way to get anywhere, I'd recommend carjacking, carpooling or just simply hiring a private jet.  You just can't simply survive living within the premises of Cendana.

Cemara and Akasia

This is for you desperate guys hoping to switch to Cemara one day.  Feedback from seniors suggests that you are better off staying in Cendana for accommodation, but having a neighbourhood like Cemara and Akasia for your daily needs.  Cemara conditions are awful - concrete floors, dilapidated walls and furniture, and all sorts of other unpleasant things you would expect from a rundown hostel, but probably only half as bad as most matriculation hostels.  Here, people go four in a room, with two in each bedroom, and the toilet and shower room is not separated so it spells trouble for those who wish to empty their bowels while their friends are showering.  These are the minor things; in the near future I might consider adding on about Cemara, but I'd probably be dead by then.

Around Cemara and Akasia are many, many, many food stalls, from fast food outlets to mamak stalls to burger stalls on the streets.  The shopping mall nearby, Ole Ole, hosts Pak Li (my favourite eating place-to-be), Secret Recipe, Ayam Penyet AP (yucky stuff), a bowling alley as well as an arcade.  KFC and McD are not too far from here, as well as a bakery.  Two major supermarkets are open here - Mydin and Giant.  All seems well in the senior guys' area, other than the hostel conditions.  Again, don't expect too much of a city in the middle of nowhere.  Consider moving to Cemara as a reward for living in a lifeless place for two semesters.

INTEC Itself

And to the main point, INTEC itself.  Recently changed its name from International Education Centre to International Education College, but this comes with no change, despite being privatised.

See what I mean?

Transportation to INTEC is provided for free by buses that come to and fro from INTEC to Cendana's entrance and Akasia's bus stop.  As for those in Cendana, you are of bitter luck.  The bus drivers are just as lazy as the rest of us, and are mostly unwilling to follow schedule (although they always claim to be schedule-abiding workers), so you have to bear in mind that you might have to hop on a taxi once in a while if your luck runs out.  Normal bus schedules to INTEC are from 6.45 a.m. to 7.30 a.m. and for the rest of the day from 1 p.m. to 7 p.m., as well as some buses at night if you're lucky.  This only applies if the bus drivers are in a good mood, or they do not sleep away their duties for the day.  Usual times for Cendana buses to leave INTEC are every hour or so in the afternoon, but again without any monitoring the bus drivers do play with the schedules once in a while - either going too early or going too late.  So far, there's no problem for transportation for those in Cemara and Akasia.

These buses either drop you off nearby the entrance of INTEC or inside INTEC itself nearby the ALM block, depending on your luck.  Those outside will have to face the wrath of the guards waiting pleasantly for you at the entrance, but those that manage to go inside sometimes do get inspected by busybody guards that enter the bus.  The basic dress code for everyone is pretty simple - cover as much as you can.  Student IDs are a must for everyone, and must be hung.  (You won't get away by just flashing your card to the guards without actually wearing it around your neck.)  Guys must always be in long pants and collared tees (which is more exposing than roundnecks, but they are stubborn as you can see) with proper shoes.  Formal attire with a tie is a must for guys on Mondays.  Girls must always be in long sleeves (hand socks are a must if you hate long sleeves) and long pants.  As for Mondays and Fridays, girls must be in baju kurungs, or not be allowed to enter INTEC premises at all.  These rules for a private college might seem absurd, but again, play by the rules.

There are toilet ethics, too.

Also, where else do you get notices that tell you what language to use?

Normal classes start at 8 a.m.  ALM currently runs 16 classes for my batch - five for PMC, five for MMC, two for IMU fast-track for medicine (1.5 years course), two for IMU medicine (the normal 2 years course), and two for pharmacy students - one for IMU pharmacy, and another combined with Nottingham-bound students.  Most classes are in the ALM block of the campus (Block W/V), although some classes float like jellyfish due to the lack of classrooms.  Some classes currently utilise classrooms in Block C which were originally inhabited by AUSMAT seniors.  All the same, they are all classrooms, and each class accommodates up to 25 students in small air-conditioned rooms that chill to the core.

A typical classroom, a private place for mental torture.

A not-so-typical classroom, a flooded one.  You need not worry about getting wet, though.  Chances are slim, provided you don't use the top floor.  But yes, juniors DO use the top floor.  *grins*

Now, many have been ranting about the extended A-level course for ALM, as most A-level courses only require 1.5 years whereas we require two.  The reason behind this is because JPA does not want our brains to rot.  Entrance to our future universities are usually in September, so instead of letting us sit for the January papers, we are asked to sit for May and June papers to compensate for the long wait and thus shorten our waiting time.  Of course, we could have done it the faster way by rushing our A-level in just one year, just like direct programmes in KTT, but for security purposes, we will play by the tortoise policies rather than the hare.  This is an exception though for the two IMU fast-track classes that are going to sit for January papers next year.  These classes were chosen from half of the IMU students back in semester one based on their academic results, so if you are in IMU and your batch is offered fast-tracking, fight for it.  It's alright to be kiasu at times.  All the same, whether you get into fast-track or not, you are still a no-lifer in my eyes.

Perfectly describes most INTEC students.

Normally, semester one has the longest hours, with six hours for each core science subject (Biology, Chemistry, Physics), three hours for Math and two hours for Stats, six hours for English, and two hours for Ethics or Islamic Studies.  Fast-track classes obviously have longer hours because they are racing against time (which is a constant, ironically) to finish the syllabus and graduate by the third semester.  I hereby emphasise again that the subjects you take are not chosen by you, and are already predestined depending where you are going to as mentioned before.  There is no possibility of taking Physics or Math and Stats if it is your wish to, as lecture hours are mostly clashing and the administrators would have no time and interest to handle your requests in the first place.  As the semesters go by, lecture hours are reduced thanks to English; in semester two, English is reduced to four hours, and there will be no more English classes upon finishing IELTS in semester three.  By semester four, you will be as free as a bird, but tons of revision await you.

Why?

INTEC is run in a rather 'clever' way.  It is endorsed by Edexcel, an examination board that runs a properly disorganised syllabus.  It is half as lengthy as the STPM syllabus, but includes so much nonsense, especially for Biology.

I'd prefer to think of it as 'advancing learning, by having no lives'.

Biology is tested in six units, each unit having a different theme that revolves around much applications, so much so that it runs away from the basic concepts in Biology.  On the bright side, it introduces a more application-based approach to Biology, which is rare to find especially in our spoonfeeding Asian society.  I'm Asian.

Edexcel is meant to be a modular course (AS units and A2 units taken separately), but thanks to our A-level administration, we are the only college that does Edexcel examinations the terminal way - AS and A2 units taken simultaneously at the end of two years.  When questioned about this preposterous regime, the administrators claim that taking Edexcel examinations the terminal way promises better results than taking the papers in modules.  Of course, we all have enough common sense to know that their reason is certified Pinnochio, but I shall use a more proper way to reason this act:

Previous years have seen INTEC do Edexcel examinations the modular way.  Unfortunately, most of our seniors were too laid back for their AS examinations, so many of them screwed up.  And sometimes, screwing up by their definition means not achieving full marks for their AS units since they are such (ridiculous) perfectionists in the making.  Amidst their tears, they convinced the academic department to let them resit those examinations, wasting much of INTEC's resources and time.  We, the current scholars, became the bearers of our seniors' sins (I'm exagerrating, it's not a sin to get 99 rather than 100) after some time of bugging the fatigued administrators, and have become the ones condemned to terminal examinations so as to ensure that we do not resit our units if we screw up.  And for such, we owe our forefathers in INTEC our humblest appreciation, ever so truthful and sincere.

Hence, don't scowl, and be prepared to repeat, repeat, and repeat what you've learnt from semester one until now for each end of semester examination you are going to sit.  You will get the hang of it.

Also, international centres should go for written practical papers (that are sat together with the other academic units) for Units 3 and 6, but weird enough, we are to do an issue report for Unit 3 and an individual investigation for Unit 6 for Biology instead, similar to what local students in UK do.  Many people think that doing the issue report and individual investigation is an easier way of scoring marks for those two units rather than sitting for the written alternatives, but all the same I'd rather play by the rule book.  This is an exception for those in the fast-track IMU classes whom have not much time to deal with such extra reports and also miraculously do not have the option for those research papers for A-level examinations in January (but yeah we all shouldn't have had such an option in the first place), so they have been exempted from this radical INTEC ruling and given the chequered flag to do their examinations the proper international centre's way.  I'd love to have the privilege given to the fast-track students (an obvious sloth I am), but sadly I am fated to do 'a report on an issue', the definition of an issue report given by our head of ALM.  It's just paraphrasing, I know.

And sometimes, your labs may just be so incomplete with so many insufficient materials and apparatus that you resort to plasticine as weights.  This snake right here weights exactly 5.0 grams.  The power of the innovative mind.

For those taking Physics, do not be disappointed if the lecturers run away from syllabus, because they just have to, as Edexcel specifications for the Physics syllabus is way too shallow.  (As a result, examination papers for Physics never follow the narrow specifications, which naturally spells trouble.)  We are often taught way more than what the syllabus asks for, and that alone is already very little of what we have learnt in SPM.  Also, Physics questions tend to be incomplete as there is always a tendency to slip out various important values in calculation questions, hence, be prepared to make assumptions during your calculations.  Chemistry by far is the most complete syllabus, however it also suffers lack of organisation thanks to mixing and matching of topics between separate units.  However, Physics and Chemistry follow the proper Edexcel procedures (at least) as we sit for written practical papers.  Good luck to me trying to handle those six papers at once for both subjects next year.  Math and Stats according to others has the most homework, and thus the most torturing.  Consider yourselves lucky if you are PMC-bound in the ALM batch, as Physics hardly has any homework.  Hooray?

On the bright side, Math and Stats students, you learn things that are much more applicable in life than what we learn in Physics.  Nobody in our PMC batch actually cares that chocolate should be viscous enough to make the perfect chocolate-coated sweet in the confectionary industry, yet such gibberish actually appears in one of our textbooks.  And as you would have guessed, the lecturers don't give a damn about making the perfect sweet either.

But I suppose we all need physics, too.

English here is below par, to be honest.  Semester one is focused on how to write essays, so be prepared to hear the words 'thesis statement', 'topic sentence', 'coherency', 'unity', 'vocabulary', 'sentence structure', and the similar lot, trillions of times.  Semester two and three focuses more on IELTS, with lecturers that assess you and give bias marks if they disapprove of your style of writing or speaking.  This is spoken of past experience, where you have certain lecturers that reprimand me for using a word as simple as 'remainder' in essays or other simple tasks.  (Ironically, we rank one of the best among Asian countries when it comes to English proficiency; the obvious lies.)  Ethics or Islamic Studies is a compulsory subject for all students in INTEC, and is similar to Malaysian Studies (cum Moral Studies) in other colleges, just a little bit more relaxed.  This is probably the best two hours for slumber, provided your lecturer is not a pain in the ass.  Mine's not.

I just had to include this.

In all, in terms of education, be prepared to repeat, repeat, and repeat what you've learnt from semester one till the day you sit for the real A-level examination.  Do not be too worried about end of semester examinations though, as chances are that Biology will be mostly past years, which just about contradicts the fact that we are brainwashed not to plagiarise.  (I just love emphasising on plagiarism.)  Whether it be your luck or the paper-setter's sloth, Biology would be better off studied by analysing past years rather than reading your text books and lecture notes.  As for other subjects, please refrain from using such shortcuts, as the opportunities given to do so in those papers are much less.  Presumably, these lecturers don't let you have it easy, unlike...

I'd love to quote this to the people behind all the plagiarism for our examination papers.  *huge grin*

In the end, after four semesters of torment, you will grow too accustomed of Edexcel's paper-setting ways from all the (unnecessary) practice that you can might as well be an examiner yourself.  To cut it short, just bear with it.  Having no life does you some good.

Be even more prepared for the assignments, homework, tutorials and other tasks assigned for each subject.  Biology reports are the worst nightmare for all ALM students, including me.  Many have given in to temptation and sinned their way through their reports by means of 'ctrl-c' and 'ctrl-v', followed by a 'ctrl-p' and a huge smiley ':)'.  These lengthy reports can range up to 4000 words depending on your blood type (I'm cold-blooded, I love to see my lecturers suffer from reading endless paragraphs and sentences), and come once or twice a fortnight, depending on your luck.  We were lucky once when the incubator screwed up and we couldn't perform many of the experiments that required it, but it was restored in the last minute and we had to do those experiments (including the reports) anyway.  So much for luck.

As for the lecturers themselves, I refuse to comment.  Some are extremely good, some are on the borderline, and some are completely horrendous, just like any other college.  That is for you to decide when you come over.  Bear in mind most of them have twisted tongues when it comes to English terms, so forgive them if their 'methyl' sounds like 'Matthew', or if they use bombastic superlatives like 'much more better'.  More and better, with the touch of a much, Malaysian English for your viewing pleasure.

Lunch options are limited in INTEC; you'll be staying for lunch in INTEC mostly due to afternoon classes.  There are three cafeteria operating in INTEC, but ALM's cafeteria is the most decent.  That is if you are willing to forgive them for cooking vegetables that taste raw and eating curry that comes from plastic buckets that look like rubbish bins.  Once in a while, you may get lucky and find a lucky piece of nylon string in your plate too.  I hear that cats love to pee on plates too other than eating on them.

This fatty used to roam the tables and chairs of AUSMAT's cafeteria.  Cardiovascular disease and diabetes - I'm applying my knowledge on biology here - probably took its toll on this morbidly obese cat.  It's so sad to say Kuching, the so-called Cat City, does not house as many (fat) cats as Shah Alam does.  All the same, I do not welcome such beasts to my hometown either.

The library in INTEC's campus is the most impressive of this place, being four stories high and being the only conducive place (for me) to study in the whole of Shah Alam.  Around the campus are many computer labs (and many viruses too) with printing facilities as well as a multi-purpose hall that houses a gym and three badminton courts.  Sports facilities are limited and rather hard to obtain, but they have grounds for tennis, volleyball, football and so on.  But the best thing of all in INTEC is going to be your family of peers that thrive with you in such remorseful conditions of Shah Alam.  Friendship always blooms faster in the most cruel of places.

But perhaps of notable mention and of comparable awesomeness to your college peers are the holidays in INTEC, something that makes the world in Shah Alam go round.  ALM students suffer the longest semester breaks, usually a massive two months or so.  This would be the best time for growing fat, snoozing alarms, hunting chicks, washing toilets; you name it, we have done it.  I'd say this is a well-deserved reward for extending our A-level by an extra semester and all the other proposterous agendas happening in INTEC.  To add on to our wasted days in INTEC are mid-semester breaks, Raya breaks, and Chinese New Year breaks which sums up the number of non-schooling days to about half of the 365/366 days in a year.  This is better defined as wasting resources - money, time, and for people like me with non-stop complaints, saliva.

After each semester ends, you are requested to completely clear your room (although it's usually full with rubbish when it's done) of all your belongings, from each cloth hanger to underwear.  This spells trouble for us that fly over South China Sea (thus the term 'oversea'), but we are given storage rooms in our respective colleges to handle that mess.  Usually you'll have others who live in the peninsula who try to tag along by storing a bucket or two with you, so my advice is to not to be too friendly or you'll end up getting ten.  As for those less concerned about packing bags but booking tickets, the academic calendar for each semester is usually produced and announced at least half a year in advance to assist those living 'oversea' to book their flights, an advantage especially during air fare promotions.  Usually, INTEC sticks to their foreplanned academic calendar, so there is little chance of wasting any prebooked flight ticket.  Needless to mention, be a wise traveler and try not to travel alone.

That's about all I dare to say about INTEC, as many other undisclosed matters are yours to experience alone. I am not here to spoil any upcoming surprises.  Nevertheless, this walkthrough hopefully has served its purpose to warn you about the upcoming challenges you are going to face when you enter INTEC, unless you decide to take all these facts in such an optimistic way that you can handle the pressure.  (Obviously, it has yet to start and you are yet to face reality in a few months' time.)  No worries to those with paranoia, parents included - most likely, with a close to a hundred percent probabillity that you (or your child) would survive, although there is risk that you (or your child may not).  Most I can say about INTEC is to come prepared.  It is nothing like home.  College life is the moment you set free into the real world, and you will soon begin to see that the world does not revolve around toys, computer games, or hot chicks, anymore.

***

Disclaimer:  INTEC is not all bad, it is a decent place too.  It's just that this post was specifically designed to help you cope with the new environment here, if you are new to INTEC and are looking forward to a pampered life which is way beyond reach, and also to cherish some memories me and my batch had over the past year.  And to all of you out there who have begun their post-school journey in life, I wish you all the best in your future undertakings.  If your destiny is to be one of us at INTEC, I give you my warmest welcome, and condolences.

With much pride.

Mishap

One by one by one by one.

Two innocent lads with the intention of going out for dinner; 7 p.m.  Along the way, they fetch two more (innocent) lads to bring better cheer to the group.  They go up to their vehicle, and the owner presses the remote.  No response - no doors unlocked.

He tries harder and harder, but to no avail, even upon hundred attempts.  He unlocks the car the manual way, and tries to start the engine.  By a miracle of science, it did not respond.  Mechanics would have just called it battery dead, but us noobs would not have known any better than to keep trying and trying to twist the key until we came upon such a mechanic's conclusion. 

Two enter a passerby's car to a nearby petrol station to grab battery water to refill their battery cell.  Upon returning, they find themselves unsure where to find the battery of the vehicle.  They strip the passenger seat naked - screws, covers, and all - in attempt to search the battery, but the seat turns out to store no secrets.  A phone call to a dad and they soon find out the battery is actually stored behind the driver's seat.  It was useless stripping the passenger seat after all.  Inexperienced drivers, mechanics in the making.

They open the battery compartment, and as when all hopes were closing in, they soon found it to be a DRY cell.  So much for buying battery water, assuming the battery to be one that actually utilises it.  Hopes to ashes. 

The last straw - jumping battery power from another vehicle.  I run to a good samaritan's door and knock on it, requesting for help to revive the dead vehicle.  I would have not named him a good samaritan if he hadn't come to help.  First attempt was an epic fail as he was parked in the wrong position.  Second attempt was good and the clips were all in position.

Then came the moment of truth.  No revving.  No ignition.  No life.  Just a click.  And that was all it was.  Same for the next hundred attempts.   Radio off, lights off, signals off, wipers off, just current for the starter.  No signs of life, nevertheless.  Another phone call to a dad diagnoses the case as a failed starter.  Proposed is an ingenious plan to run the vehicle with muscles and bones and letting the dynamo of the rotating wheels resuscitate the vehicle to life.  If the driver maneuvering the vehicle is an epic failure, the vehicle will just zoom off.  Repair and hospital fees uninsured.

Of course, such a brilliant idea was absurd in a car park.  The good samaritan drives off with no success.  Meanwhile goes another guy to the petrol station to grab some petrol in a motor oil container in another dude's car.  (Stupid as it is to use a container for another substance, at least both were organic.)  Filling the tank, soon was the reality that the neck of the container was too shallow to allow proper filling of the tank.  Spillage, money wastage, what a mishap.  A shot at the ignition, and they find out they need a power source, again.  So much for having fuel with no battery to start off with.

Then came the moment of truth as I rush to the good samaritan again to grab the jumping wires.  History repeats itself with another attempt to jump-start the vehicle.  Plugged in to the dude's car (which took some time as the dude didn't know how to perform a very close-up reverse park, and it was my friend's job to do it for him), the engine roared to life.  A wonderful celebration it was, as stupid as it seemed to have had a dead battery and no fuel at the same time.  I gave it a sprint to return the wires as the good samaritan was off to somewhere else with his family.  Meanwhile, the dude who helped with the jump returned home as well.  All was well...

Until a bugger releases the clutch and tries to move the vehicle at first gear.  An epic failure; he stalled.  Of all times to stall, he stalled.  And the engine never came back to life again.  The battery had ran out of charge (it hardly had any in the first place), and there was no way to raise the vehicle from the dead again.  Jumping wires were on their way somewhere else with the good samaritan, and the dude with the car was long gone.  Screw it; we took a bloody taxi.  So much for all the practical work we had on the vehicle.

On the bright side, if we had not stalled and used the vehicle out for dinner, we'd never make it back anyway.  All in the name of Subway's Italian B.M.T.

Lesson of the day:  Never let an auto driver drive a manual car.  I said NEVER.

All for the sake of Monday's treat.

We walked miserably to the bus stop in the dark, hoping for a taxi, although we knowingly understood that taxi drivers would never bother to wait for customers anymore (just for the sake of a 2-bucks surcharge for calling them).  Called once, no one came, stomachs grumbled for 15 minutes.  Called the second time, and there was no taxi coming over either.  Meanwhile, we observed another taxi driving in to a lane 200 metres away, taking his sweet time going into a dead end and reversing out of it.  Took a sprint to reach the taxi and grab it to go for dinner.  And by then, it was already 9 p.m.

A dash to Subway and it was Italian B.M.T. for all four of us.  Two got conned - both refrained from beef, and requested for chicken slice in replacement, but accepted rejection.  Meanwhile, Mr. Broken Vehicle and I could have taken those beef pepperonis in return for our chicken slices, but they were too slow to react.  Two less servings of beef pepperoni for the same price.  Looks like a bad day for value for money as well, other than kicking baby chairs and getting stares for being good citizens by disposing our own rubbish.  (Is it wrong in Malaysia to throw away our own sandwich wrappers?)

Pizza Hut it was for the sequel of our dinner.  (We guys, especially Mr. Broken Vehicle and I, are humongous eaters.)  Ordered the half-price menu, and we ate like hogs.  Or at least one did.  Cheese spilled all over his beloved jeans by means of gravity (thank you Isaac Newton), thanks to his fumbly hands handling the cheese shaker in attempt to contaminate it with Tabasco sauce.  If this is to add on to the amount of ill luck he has had, he was Mr. Broken Vehicle.  And now, he shall be proudly named Mr. Cheesy Pants.  That's karma - try sabotaging Pizza Hut's cheese shakers and you get your worth of service and government tax by spilling cheese all over your pants.

The Asian way of expenditure.  I'm Asian.

A cheerful old chap, thought to be the manager, came over soon after and requested for buggers (like us) to fill up vacancies at the restaurant.  If he hadn't any problems with his eyes, then it would have been his brains or sense of taste.  He inquired about our food, and we said 'delicious' with a (sarcastic) smile.  He soon went into crapping about Pizza Hut and how the workers earn 4 bucks an hour working there during peak hours.  I could have let off a sympathetic laugh for the workers, but it was extinguished when he suddenly picked on me to offer the job.  "You look like you're interested."  I guess sarcastic smiles work to give others false impressions, all the time.

Lesson of the day:  Never smile.

Friends of mine budged in and tried to 'support' me into joining their miserable workforce, as I continued to smile and say no word.  "He's just shy, I know he wants to work here."  First was his taste, now it's his brain.  He then dubbed me the 'youngest sibling' among us four brothers, for seemingly I was the only one with a baby face.  (As if I was the one who made a mess, unlike Mr. Cheesy Pants.)

He asked about our current occupation, too.  Racist remark of the day:  Not selling CDs, are you?  The way of a typical Chinese in his eyes.

Lesson of the day:  Sell DVDs.

He zips his mouth after knowing our medical profession (to be).  Well-respected we were for choosing a profession that 'helps people'.  Somewhat his brain (dubbed his 'computer') doesn't register that doctors do not necessarily help people, at least for me I'm sure I wouldn't.  Don't tell my future patients.

He left, and it was getting late.  Upon questioning the cashier about his job in the restaurant, she claimed to be not sure.  Now it's registered that there are many psychos lurking at where we live.  And yet, we can't run away from here.

The final taxi was the last straw of our bad day.  Mr. Broken Vehicle a.k.a. Mr. Cheesy Pants gets a scolding of a lifetime for asking the driver to switch off his meter as he fumbles with a certain something that had gone wrong with the car.  Out of economical thought, Cheesy Pants was lectured five minutes by this good old taxi driver about cab rules, with an added sense of humour and sarcasm that left us laughing at our friend's already-worsened mishap.  The thought of our downed vehicle back at the hostel and the series of misfortunate events, and now this.  Also, a notion of interest by the driver was about girls, which we targeted at the unfortunate friend of mine again.  Cheesy Pants with a made-up terrible recent break-up.  A labelled hopeless romantic he was at the end of the journey.
 

Also, a really great question came from the taxi driver.  "Why do I smell food?  It's getting me really hungry."  Obviously, the stench of cheese was strong from Cheesy Pants whom happened to be sitting in the front seat (while we were hanging out at the back seat, URGH REBECCA BLACK).  Mr. Cheesy Pants had been badly, strongly, affirmingly humiliated by a simple taxi driver. 

So, much luck with a broken vehicle (with many, many, MANY failed recovery attempts), a bad deal at Subway, a crazy old man at Pizza Hut looking for young souls (obviously whom didn't prefer CD-selling Chinese), and a demoralising chat about taxi meters and girls and the 'smell of food' with a superb taxi driver.  What else could go wrong?

Delusion

Delusion eludes only the unfortunate few.  But in this case, one unfortunate girl.

She was not born into a family of proper parenting.  Never was she one of actual parents either.  She had a typical dad and mum for parents, at least that was what her story started with.  Unfortunately, she never really had the slightest thought that she was, in fact, unaware of her surroundings, a nature that is peculiar to others, only normal to her.

The man was her mum, the woman was her dad.  An intepretation only taught by those who raised her, and they were the only ones who ever did.  Until now.  It was from the most sincere of intentions - not to confuse her, but to help to see her world better, through eyes that see, and a brain that interprets all so differently.

She was never born to see things clearly, only in her mind.  She had the most perfect of vision, most perfect of other sensory organs - she had no extra limbs or physical abnormalities - but she had the worst of perception.  She never was to see a world as we all see.  Sadly, at the end of this story, she never will.

The perception of switching roles was only to make her see that the world is not exactly right with her way of thinking.  She would unfortunately ask the man for feed, and the woman, a student with zero income then, for money that the man could hardly afford.  There was no slightest way of incepting the thought that she was confused; to her, she was always right.  It was only by changing the most obvious of things to her that she could see better.  And that way was to change her parents' genders, without changing their genders at all.

To us, that would be just utter confusion.  But she understood it all.

***

Never was the road steady for the parents.  Parenting was a problem, finances another.  Misunderstandings the worst.

The two, a problematic couple, never got into proper terms ever since the role swap.  It was never easing parenting a confused child, moreover to suffer the psychological effects of having that child.  Depression and stress was only little to describe their behaviour.  Constant fights, arguments and fits that only added more to the delusion of their child, and their family.  Being the only child to face it all, she was only, as most daughters would, faithful to her 'mum' - if confusion has not got to you to not know who the 'mum' really is - and stay on her side till the very end.

The very end of her parents' marriage.

They have had enough.  More than enough.  Dad just had to go, leaving her child and letting off all her responsibilities as a good parent to an already traumatised child.  The divorce was painful to both sides, but it was definitely more painful for her mum.  Masculinity had little to do with controlling his emotions and his sanity.  He was only soon going to be used to being what he was not meant to be - her child's mum.

***

Betrayal.  It was easy.

It was way too easy for her runaway dad to fall in love with a guy.  A guy who stood by her side to console her through the toughest of times, even with a marriage that he did not intend to break.  At least that was the assumptions made by her and many others.

The new guy was one of good manner.  He was an avid supporter for the couple (only in the scenes), and always showed affection for their child.  He was one of the pillars of strength, one that crumbled in the hands of a confused lover with an estranged daughter.

Little could be done by the child's mum to save their marriage, or even his divorced wife's heart.  He was only sane enough to keep himself from going overboard and killing himself.  He had much more than pledge to take care of his only child, but also to help her lead a normal life.  That was also the intentions of the newly-wed couple of a betrayer, and a backstabber.

The child was confused.  She had already been, but relatively, it was a huge mess.  She spent many days of frustration, thinking to herself the possibilities of having three parents at once - dad, mum, and anonymous.  Despite the break (which she never knew of), she was always happy to have her dad.  She never questioned the thought of not seeing her mum around when her dad was, and vice versa.  Never did she bother either that a new person had seemed to come into her dad's life.

A huge confrontation was put upon the newly-wed couple.  Supporters from either sides clashed; often court summonings made any difference to this issue.  The new parent was only the better one to pretend to choose over the child than to choose over the mess.  He only prevailed to become of trustworthy notion to the child.

The final blow was done when by miracle, it could get into the child's head that her dad had left her mum, only to get another person to claim to be her dad.  This time, the new guy was a dad.  Amidst her confusion, she never noticed the dissimilarities in gender.

Fights persisted between her biological mum (her perceived 'dad') and her.  Fits and heated arguments only tore their relationship apart, the worst being her dad disowning her completely and leaving the scenes, without her new husband.  Tragic it was for the child to hear the words from someone she had put many years of trust on, a dad that had taught her the values of life that often contradicted hers, and yet contradicting them back by being a disloyal fugitive and a heartbreaker.

She couldn't take much.  She could only hear her dad's last words in her head:

That new guy is your dad.  I am no more.  I am leaving.  You are just not worth it.

***

A second divorce case settled by justice.  Injustice could only be correct to describe the situation of their child.  A child torn between different hands, different opinions, different intentions.  Disowned and reowned, put back and forth between confusion and understanding, emotions that skyrocket and plummet, a rollercoaster series of events.

It was easy this time for her dad to leave the new guy.  It was settled so easily by the wit of confusing the confused.  By introducing the guy as her new dad.  By making her believe that parents are switched over time.  That parents switch by random, and also by necessity.  She was indeed obedient enough to believe that this change was necessary.

It never hit to the child that both her parents were of the same gender.  Little did she know about gender differentiation as well as proper parenting roles in her life.  Little did she care either.  And little was to be done to give her the idea that her new parents were actually her proper parents.  A guy with a guy, one considered a mum, and the newer a dad.
 

It was only for the better that the two men came to consolidation.  Coming to a final conclusion that the child was of far more importance than their rivalry, or the betrayer that stood once between the both of them.  It was only for the best of the child that they continued with the idea once created by parents of interswitched genders, hoping one day that reality would spark truth, eliminate doubt.  That day has yet to come.

***

Rivalry was of important manner in the new parenthood.  Both had a shot at the divorced woman whom lives in isolation, despite her cunning play and numerous scandals.  The child was to learn that her previous dad was of no longer any existance, and by miracle, it only took her days to digest her new information and let in her new parents better than ever before.  Time would only tell if all these series of events would gift common sense to her some time in the near future.

The child continues to be under proper surveillance.  Delusion masks less over her, now.

Past

A heck of a rollercoaster ride.

I have had many posts left unpublished over this long period of three months.  My mysterious disappearance is hardly an appealing story anyhow, but by truth's word, I did not have much inspiration to blog either.

February was a rough month.  Upon arrival to this 'world beyond comprehension', I have had the worst of days (and nights), some sort of a battle against myself.  I was rushing through last minute assignments, presentations, reports, homework, and you name it.  I have had it all as a result of minor procrastination (minor because I didn't have much time to make it major, sadly), and a little bit of a nutty schedule.  Too often I find tasks lining up, and too seldom I await tasks that come.

Somewhat, I have also been a little loose about my expenditure, and February has seen a huge incline in my expenses.  Blame it on most of the free weekends and holidays I've had during the month.  An outing one day, another one the next.  And when the minor vacation is all over, lecturers slap all sorts of weird tasks in your face.  Needless to mention, budgets hardly ever include the 16% surcharge implemented thanks to bloody tax, even if the restaurant never deserved that 10% service charge for no service at all.

In terms of academics, I have had not much progress.  Sleepy spells in class, despite caffeine overdoses, the "I-didn't-know-of-such-homework" syndrome, and sum it up with boring lectures.  A quiet and lifeless environment with a lecturer blabbering in front is hardly what I need for a kick-start to my college life.  At least I feel that I should call this centre a college.

In terms of my health and well-being, oh great.  I have always discarded hormonal fluctuations as reasoning to my mood, but somehow, I have more to believe that it does, other than the pressure from the 'warm' atmosphere around Shah Alam.  As a result, fevers, headaches, flus, colds, stomach upsets, you can name it all.  A bad ache today, a fever the next.  And the cycle repeats itself.  It's pretty easy to reason my constant illnesses - I have dust collecting on my table every week, mould on the bathroom floors, a dirty pantry, and the worst of weather - the worst of all worlds.  Somewhat, I have had weird thoughts thinking I have reasonably high levels of monoamine oxidase A because my hands shake a lot (like a person with Parkinson's) and I'm always having problems with my mood.  Lame, I know, but I'd rather blame the environment here. Just smelling the cat shit in the air spoils my mood.

Right now, I have a two-weeks old cough to get rid of, phlegm to go first.  The most pressuring week in February has just gone past, with just one or two tests left to go.  Many scribbles yet to decipher and decrypt into proper Biology notes, and a lot more effort needed to stay alert in all classes, other than those that simply don't need them.  A serious makeover of myself too, and tremendous effort into being a little bit more optimistic about being brought into this pothole, since there is no escape.

Time will tell a different story, I hope.

Summation

Hiatus was not intended.  I meerly ran out of ideas, and a perfectly boring life explains that well enough.  However, it is, and it really is, the year's closing.  As figured, it would be the very best time to flash back all the memories I have had throughout this eventful year.  (As contradictive as it seems, this year was eventful while there was no holiday to it.  But here we go again, blaming the holidays for our inactivity.)

And so, here I am, again, to tell the tale of a guy I know best, being that guy himself.  I trust that you believe in the truth, and the truth shall be laid upon thou readers.

***

The early months of the year were as uneventful as now, but there is still much a babbling mouth can word.  With the most important secondary school paper finished, I, and many others, were free from the grasp of secondary school life (well, except those staying for Form Six).  Freedom was definitely sweet, but it was not as sweet as it turned out to be.

We all soon learned (well enough) that boredom is indeed a silent killer.  Most of us have spent days and days doing nothing.  Couch potatoes - numerous emergences, computer addicts - even more, just like me.  I was hogged on Facebook twenty-four seven.  My homepage, honestly, was mostly static, and yet, I was there to pray that it would move.  Thus, solves this equation:  Freedom = sloth.

I came to a decision that I would do a part-time job to kill off some of the time.  Some only, for laziness was actually quite fun.  Oops.  I was almost about to get a job at a tuition centre, but there were no vacancies left.  Miracle it be, I was allowed to work at a, I would say, prestigious music school with recommendation by my music instructor.  Oh, the awesomeness.  And so I thought.

I was paid decently.  Sixty percent from the tuition fees of my students, although I only had five.  Four Koreans, and a local boy.  I was pretty keen about my job at first, all ready to go.  It was only then that I realised there were actually far worse sloths out there than my own self.

Explaining sloth would be quite simple.  The story of four kids.  One never remembers to bring his violin's shoulder rest.  In fact, he never remembered for all the lessons I had with him.  Another does not bother about practise.  Pardon me, that was meant for all.  Another one was a marvellous darling whom can forget her very own violin and come empty-handed with a brilliant smile.  The last too young to bother, whom I have explained to about using a violin bow gazillion times, multipied by ten to the power of infinity, minus zero.  Here are four candidates for the Kids Choice for Sloth awards, but the fifth dude under my care was no laid-back dandy.

He, being the local, was my favourite student.  Obviously, undoubtedly, explanation unnecessary, just simple logic.  Keen, attentive, hardworking, the values any teacher would treasure.  Apparently, the other four Koreans were just simply adding to my salary like charity, but this one made me work harder than what I was paid for, but it was all worth its price.  This was the story of mine till June.

Another branch to my job was a more demanding one.  I had a go instructing primary school girls with a friend of mine from the same music school.  In what field?  Recorder.  Please don't laugh.

And now that I have given a necessary break for any reader that finds humour in such a pathetic job, I tell you it ain't.  The experience was a good start, as it was never easy to teach slightly spoilt kids with different personalities and skill levels.  I, fortunately, dealt with the smaller branch of alto recorders, but unfortunately, meant dealing with two playful, notorious, restless girls.  My friend was better off with the soprano branch that had numerous little kids, and I had trouble with just two.  I hate being a nice guy, urgh.

Complications were inevitable.  The recorder girls were not in time to learn their second piece, arranged by my music instructor, whom claims his arrangements were at the most simplest form already.  (If that's what his preliminary students play, a big wow.)  To solve time constraint, I was then asked to arrange a simple piece for the kids.

Now, I'm no person to ask for arrangements.  I may hold a diploma in violin, but no higher than Grade 5 in theory.  Sad case, I know.  I have no idea on music harmony nor chords, as I do all these by ear.  My first success was back in 2009 when I arranged a piece for a woodwind ensemble, with the help of a prearranged piece, but now, I was all on my own.  Somehow, piecing my little bits of knowledge here and there, it worked out well with minimal adjustments.  The girls were back on track.  The relief.

Then, another primary school called.  This time, my own primary school.  Not exactly mine since I didn't go to St. Joseph primary, but all the same, my school.  They required assistance for the upcoming recorder competition as well, and I had to step in for a while.  Stuck on both sides, I had to side what they paid me for, and at the same time show my support to my own school.  I meerly decided to give them a visit.

It was horrendous.  No music teacher was available to teach them proper techniques, nor proper harmony.  Music to their ears was more like everyone playing the same freaking tune.  I was shattered.  Nosy as I was, I just had to give them a try with harmony - by arranging two pieces for them, all on my own.  (I have never claimed the payment for those arrangements.  I don't intend to.)

And so depleted my midnight oil.  The next time I saw the boys after numerous practices with the girls was a major disappointment.  My piano part was completely ignored, and the kids did not bother to play the two parts as arranged.  With nothing left to choose, I let my band juniors handle them and focus on my own group.

Back to the girls, they had major issues with rhythm and timing.  Issues like these were typical of such youngsters, but it was never so easy to correct.  Scolding a lot we were, but for their own good.  We had a few issues with sensitive ones, but it turned out for the better.  By the last rehearsal, almost everything was perfect and according to plan.  The outcome was amazing, from zero to an ensemble of recorder kids that can play in tune, together, in beat, with a touch of rudiments of music.  I owe a lot to my boss and my friend for that.  A job well done.

The competition day was awkward for me.  Kids from my school saying 'hi' to me, and me saying 'hi' to them from the girls' corner.  My boss could not help but laugh.  The girls did great, winning first straight away.  My primary school was miraculous, being able to pull through with third.  Cunning were my juniors, teaching them marching band basics that made them super synchronised and sort of professional and acceptable (despite the poor arrangement of music).

The last time me and my colleague ever saw the girls again was the day they performed for an event at school after the competition.  Me and my friend shared money to buy them ice-cream as promised as a reward for their victory at inter-school level.  Well, now that I am out of business, I have no idea how the recorder band has progressed, but I do hope they will emerge champions at national level, once more.  Good luck to all of you, and do remember us, as much as we remember you.  :)

The job teaching kids violin and the girls their recorders ended somewhere in June.  Those memories were somewhat important to me, and hence, the long story.  But there is still more to come.

***

Probably one of the biggest event this year was the leadership camp I joined, Program Kepimpinan Tun Razak (PKTR) 2009, back in late February.  Here, I've had the most memorable of memories, the best of friendships, and the most useful of experiences.  Words cannot describe.  Thoughts cannot fathom.  I am terribly sorry the words to this camp just ain't enough.  It was two weeks of immense effort, with an explosive yet nostalgic end.  Many of us bonded friendships so close that it would normally take years, yet it only took two weeks.  When it was time to leave, most of us just never took back our tears, including me.  I definitely wish to talk more, but I just cannot.  The moments were too great.

***

Talking about academics, this year has been pretty dull in that sense.  I was among the few whom chose to stay to wait for my SPM results.  Some of my friends departed early, and yes, goodbyes were sometimes hard.  I had many personal complications of my own through the long phase of boredom, and at the same time most of my friends went off.  It was not too good a time for me in early 2010, but a lesson well learnt - we all need our friends.

SPM results were out in the early middle of March, and I had a pleasant surprise.  Before the results were out, I've already had teachers congratulating me beforehand, and telling me my results were superb.  A teacher drew a "+"  in the air for me and left.  Their actions were pretty... weird for teachers, but I chose to wait.

The moment my results came, I had one of the biggest shocks in my life.  I saw an A+ to every subject, even to my Malay language (what a dream), and even my moral studies, being immoral as I am.  It was nuts, utter chaos of mixed feelings.  My dad was there with me to take photos and talk to the press.  Till this day, my mum is still jealous that she did not manage to turn up on the papers thanks to a board meeting.

Many teachers and friends congratulated me, to whom I'm super grateful to.  Well, never could have done it without them.

Next came the application of scholarships.  It was a stressful time, filling in many online documents and doing much paperwork as required to apply for such.  In total I applied for eight scholarships, and all refused me except JPA (Public Service Department) and TNB (Tenaga Nasional Berhad) which I never attended the interview.

The great news came amidst doing Form Six.  At that time, I was rebellious about entering Form Six (as it was entering hell), but it was all necessary just in case I did not get the scholarship I needed.  Form Six was a gateway to allow me to enter Australia to do Year 12 as a 'continuation' to my education.  However, I was never active in Form Six though, always skipping classes to coach the girls (which were still under my care back then).  Back to the great news, JPA accepted me after their interview, and offered me at first medicine twinning to MMC.

MMC at first was thought to be Manipal Medical College, based in Melaka which twins to India.  However, I was lucky enough that evening that my offer was changed from MMC to PMC, which meant Penang Medical College (which, by divine intervention, would twin to Ireland).  My mum was overjoyed, my dad still blur about how the change had occurred.  I was too happy to consider the offer, it was auto-accepted. 

Now, about medicine.  It was never a course I would have considered, if I actually had a choice in mind.  The problem was, I had none.  I have had a slight disliking for Biology during SPM, but now, I will just have to deal with it, with no regrets.  Ten years of bond await me.  But, thank you, JPA, for choosing me.

***

INTEC, my preparatory college before going to Ireland.  My first day on the fourth of July.  It was the orientation week, and as the days gone by, I started to get to know more and more people, and build a network of friends.  Soon enough, I was placed in the class 11M5, together with other students bound to PMC with me.

The days gone by, and more friends entered my life.  It all seemed well, except the terrible food at Shah Alam.  I was constantly sick, from all the stomach upsets and flattulence and other gastrointestinal matters that are a bit too awkward to discuss in a public blog.  For all the entertainment matters, we would bus to Sunway Pyramid or venture further to Mid Valley.  Shah Alam's other issue would be only that - it's a dead town.

Little can be said about my first semester at INTEC.  Things have run so smoothly and so fast I can bearly remember being in Shah Alam for six months, a full semester.  Three more to go, and yet I have already met the most awesome of friends I can ever have.  Lecturers are pretty decent, other than their language and resources, but all the same, INTEC has been awesome.

***

This sums up events in a year.  The holidays have been a bore, other than my recent trip to Sabah which hopefully will be my next blog post, or some time in the near future.  Thank you, my friends whom have been there for me throughout the year, old or new alike.  Thank you, too, to my mentors whom have given me the chance to shine and pursue a degree, although the journey is still far.  And to my mentors, it may just include you.  Blessings upon you, and a happy new year.  :)