Pesta Tanglung Universiti Malaya

Most of the time I have a barren mind when I have decided to write about something good and the same goes to this. Nevermind about that. Assignments can wait after I relieved my mind with this purposeful blog.

Most of us do not the get the chance to shine on stage. Reminiscing back to 2 months ago, I was just another one of the lonesome undergraduates looking for something to past my time. So, I decided to give Pesta Tanglung Universiti Malaya a try. It was an abrupt decision so instead of going to the interview first, I went to the audition on my own.


I was presented with a passport to a 2-month practice under 3 choreographers. Congratulations to me and my wishes were finally answered. When the undergraduates went back to their hometown, I had my time occupied with training camp. Nevertheless, it was a superb experience although most of us were down with joint pains and muscular aches the following day. We had our chance to bond, to snap those girlish, ugly, crazy and cute pictures which I am quite sure the memories will last in my mind even after my days in UM.


We spent hours to practice every day. The days seemed tougher with each passing hours. I was experiencing hellish moments. Her words were like bees stinging my eardrum till it penetrated by vulnerable self. I felt like crying when she kept on complaining that I looked blur, so on and so forth. Other dancers were not in a better condition that I did. Hooi Meng was forced to carry some dancers with smaller frame because of her physique (I mean she's tall, not fat yeah...), Ying Chow got her shoulder blade moved forward, all the dancers practically danced till their feet were numbed, till their sweat glands were out of sweat, till all the carbohydrates were being broken down to ATP. Yup, those were the days.


Me with my front leg pivot. A request from other dancers.


My jump requested by the choreographer.


At the backstage with PTUM'09 dancers. It was my first time wearing a chinese costume and we somehow looked like Chun Li the street fighter on that fateful day. BTW, the make up artist that helped me to apply the powder sucked. It was like me stealing her fiance, spouse or whatever you call it and she was hitting my face like no one was seeing. The worst part, she ruined my eyebrow or eyebrows... I am not sure which side is better cuz it's so damn freakin' ugly now.


This was the catching monster dance which we all made the last amendment one day before the performance. This is us being downstage with the audience. Scary, nerve-racking moment but I still looked blur.


The same dance. Adrenaline pumping...


I think this is the coolest picture of all. The light had an ghostly effect on our shadows. Who would have thought it would have such a brilliant effect?


PTUM was a success. It wasn't about the performance that made the days so memorable. It was the process of it. Who would have guessed we would shed our tears the moment we think the days we, being together are going to end? It was truly a bitter-sweet moment. Thank you so much to all the bureaus that have made this possible. Thank you so much to PTUM. I learnt so much-- To seize each moment, to manage my time, to control my emotions. It was a battel-field, a life-changing experience.

Baby Prosperous

One of the best things that I am rewarded by God in life is this little dog who has colour up our life in every way that is possible. She touches our heart with her little paw in each breaking dawn, wags her tail to welcome us, kisses us with her furry mouth whenever she sees a chance, etc etc. It's always a very welcoming sight to see her.


It's insane how humans are up for materialistic items in this era to make them happy when all we need everyday is love and those little creatures whom we regard as our pets thrive on the generosity of love that we are ready to offer. Prosperous doesn't live on expensive dog biscuit like any other expensive dog breeds. She prefers whatever left-over food like the juicy bones that are full with our salivas and she thrives on our love. All she ever asked for is to be part of us. To sleep in the same room like what my bro and sis do, to sit in the car to experience the cool breeze from the window and most of all to share the same mother with the 3 of us. Mind you, she gets jealous whenever our mommy sits on the same sofa with us.


She's sick for 2 days. Since she's being such a babe to us, I am heading back to Kuantan after my Grandpa Bill's class. Some might regard as being insane but then I feel sad for them who doesn't know the value of life. Prosperous is not any kind of dog. She's our baby Prosperous and she's my little sister.

Charlie aka Rove Beetle

My friends noticed two scratches on my skin last week but I did not give a damn about it because it looked like a normal scratches to me. After 3 days, it turned out to be skin dermatitis.


A junior asked me where did I get the scratches from. I told her I didn't recall I was scratched by anything or maybe because I was too tired to notice. You know, hours of practice had really taken a toll on me for these few weeks. She told me I might be bitten by Charlie. God knows what's Charlie!!! Charlie is not a person, it's an insect exactly like the picture above.


I went to the students' clinic in 12th college the next day and the doctor didn't even know what happened to my skin. So, she prescribed a 4-days medication for me. The pharmacist gave me Fucidin, a cream for me to get rid of the tiny little puss along the scratches; the smelly antibiotic and the viagra-like anti-viral drug.


Better beware of your surrounding. Charlie the Rove Beetle must have crawled onto my towel when I was taking bath. I googled the beetle out for more information and it stated there that its venom is 12 times more poisonous than a cobra's venom. Wow!!! No wonder my skin is such a turn off now.


Charlie can be found in the toilet cuz it's such a perverted insect! It likes the humidity and if you're staying close the forest or the paddy field, you might even find it staring at you on your wall. It's so tiny (1 cm) long that you won't even notice it's hiding under your clothes or your towel.

P.S. If you hate your friend, you can give him a Charlie :)

Responsibility

It's pouring heavily outside and the breath of wind keeps swaying the trees causing the leaves to slap against one another. It's funny how the weather reflect what I am feeling now. Emotions are running high, problems keep repeating itself in my mind and I feel like shaking up someone around me to make them understand the little predicaments that they thought I'm facing but still, I can't slap them because those are the little respect that I reserve for my friends.

My heart feels heavy. My eyes feel like welling up tears. I plead y'all to hear because I can't be doing this all alone. I feel like shouting because nobody can hear me. I yearn for my ranting session because there's when I can really pour my heart out because the way I see it, I'm all doomed. The only road that I see is leading down to my own graveyard.

Expectations are hard to meet especially in PTUM where everyone is expected to be fast enough to catch what the choreographer is trying to convey with a maximum of 2 times demonstration. Unfortunately, I'm slow. The female choreographer warned me for 4 times and almost scolded me during my last dancing practice with her. Maybe I'm nothing, no talent, no good looks to make everyone around me like me but just a blur face... Who am I to blame? My father's sperm? My mom's ovum? Can I even blame my genes? I don't know who to blame cuz there's no one to blame and that's the reason for me not to well up my tears because now all I am having now is my pride.

The same goes to the extra-curricular activities that I am taking for the sake of my credit hours. Having experience in Rhythmic Gymnastic, I'm given a task by the lecturer to choreograph all the dance for a whole 11 minutes. The things that I think are easy, are hard for them and therefore, I don't even know what I am doing anymore. I blame myself for that. Most of all, I blame myself for being to enthusiastic about that at the beginning of this semester. Now, all I want is to be off the hook, to shake off the responsibility.

Every word that Dr.Fernandez enunciated from her own mouth happened to be true. An undergraduate has no social life. All that is meant for life is about task, responsibilities and commitment towards your assignments, lectures, exams and other activities that will make your resume appeals to your prospective employer.

Recycled Post

I would like to thank my twin sister, Arulselvi for reminding me of the essay to be submitted today. Then, I would like to thank Anna for her heroic rescue in suggesting ways for me to copy an essay. Last but not least, my father for presenting me an essay to be handed in a day after his birthday.

I'm sorry Pn. Jothi for plagiarizing my own blog to come up with this simple-yet-hard-to-do essay.

SOMEONE IDEAL THAT INFLUENCED MY CAREER AS A FUTURE TEACHER

It is the time of the year again where we will light up the candles on the cake to celebrate my father's birthday. My father is fifty-four years old but nothing reminds him of his old age, not even his hair.

My father used to call me a big devilish head because of my intense habit to make both my sister and brother cried. Fortunately, that habit was brought to a halt with my loss of innocence but reminiscing about my teenage days made me missed being a big bully, launching rubber wars with my siblings. Back then, I threw erasers until they hit their foreheads. They retaliated back by teaming up and stone me with all the erasers they had. When they lose, they used the most powerful weapon of all which is no other than their annoying cries that made my father warned me to be what a 'big sister' supposed to be.

Without my father, I would not be here in University of Malaya, studying the hardest text ever which is the Shakespearean play. I used to be a very weak student. I hid my exam papers occasionally from my mom when they were marked with an ugly B or C because she was like the fiery monster scolding me from top to toe, comparing me with her colleagues' children. My father, on the other hand, would always be there to take my report card, strategize a way for me to improve by leaps and bounds. He always tell me, "Ah Chin, one step at a time. Now you must catch up with Chee Ee Van and work your way up okay?"

Sometimes the things you learnt when you were little are put into practice until this fateful day. My father is the epitome of an ideal teacher who had taught me about the ways of life. Being who I am today is definitely nothing to be proud of because I am not making people awed with a white uniform. I will be a teacher clad in what everyone would wear, humble enough in my ways to make students come to me so that I am able to teach them not only English but also share with them the ways of life like what my father has taught me.