My senses touch a world I never pictured

I am tired of fretting over tiny blemishes on the face of an imperfect day. I am tired of being a crow that picks on every little ruined detail of a scenario went wrong. I am tired of mulling over what would-have-been, could-have-been, should-have-been.

I want to see the bigger picture of everything. I want to take off my specs for a while and blind myself to the ugly nitty-gritty around me. I want to look through a kaleidoscope, not a magnifying glass that only augments the mistakes I made.

Just like I promised myself, 20 will be the year of change in perspective.

I’ll start with today. I passed on both dinner invites, one with Amanda and the other with Derene, because of band practice. I could either have had an awesome meal in some posh place or a sumptuous Japanese meal at Wen Dee’s but I ended up with tidbits from the night market, and spent the rest of the night looping the band song over and over again till it got engraved onto my brains.

I could feel regretful about my choice for a long time if I let myself be. But what would be the point? So I find things to be grateful for, little details that seem petty and insignificant and would definitely be looked over should I decide to mope.

I visited the night market again, after taking a long leave from it since Eu Chern’s rendezvous to my college. I hung out with my band mate and knew her a little better. I dared a new drink, Coconut Milkshake topped with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream. I finally tasted the Taiwan popiah after giving up on it due to the queue many times before. The song my band is working on ran in full cycle 3 times, an accomplishment considering it was only our second practice.

So, yeah.

Of course, there will be times where the wall will appear too high or the river too wide. But at least I know I will keep trying.

Let’s see how far this new preaching of mine can take me. Who knows, I might reach Europe before my 21^st birthday. 

Open my eyes, I see sky

Sky 

by Ingrid Michaelson & Joshua Radin

I woke dreaming we had broke
Dreaming you left me for someone new
And you cried, drying those brown eyes
Crying you're sorry - sorry won't do

But this is the way I need to wake
I wake to you
And you never left me
All that I dreamt had been untrue
Open my eyes
I see sky

Oh, oh, oh, oh, you know the way to keep me on my toes
I, I, I will be fine - just say you'll stay forever mine
'Til we fall asleep tonight

Last night, we had a great fight
I fell asleep in a horrible state
Then dreamt that you loved my best friend
My heart would not mend - seemed it was fate

But this is the way I need to wake
I wake to you
And you never left me
All that I dreamt had been untrue
Open my eyes
I see sky

Oh, oh, oh, oh, you know the way to keep me on my toes
I, I, I will be fine - just say you'll stay forever mine
'Til we fall asleep tonight

Sometimes I forget to love you like I should
But I'd never leave you - no, I never would
I never would

Oh, oh, oh, oh, you know the way to keep me on my toes
I, I, I will be fine - just say you'll stay forever mine
Oh, oh, oh, oh, you know the way to keep me on my toes
I, I, I will be fine - just say you'll stay forever mine
'Til we fall asleep tonight
'Til we fall asleep tonight

Tied together with a smile but you're coming undone

Barely skimming the passing mark for one particular midterm paper does not necessary define the failure of a semester, does not necessary paint a black and bleak picture of a disastrous outcome for my finals result, does not necessary spell doom for the subject. It merely tilts the delicate balance between ace and average. But it does highlight in glaring neon colours one crucial fact: I am losing ground. Heck, I am already flailing.

When did this happen? I did not even notice the crack beneath my feet. Perhaps starting last semester’s break? As far as I could tell, ever since the commencement of the May semester, absorbing lessons taught was akin to scooping fine sand into a glass jar with bare hands. My concentration was scattered and unsubstantial.

Sure, I was reading fervently again, lapping up every sort of information but those related to my music studies; I was widening the base of my listening materials, exposing my ears to new genres of songs, though most of them would earn a frown from my semi anti-mainstream lecturers; I was piling up a mountain of songs-to-learn that would have made any piano teacher proud if only it were in lead sheet and not full notation form. What did it mean? Of course, I had blamed my holiday mood then and kept trying to convince myself that my mind would settle down.

Only that it did not. Days trickled by, weeks trundled by, and I could not help but equate attending lectures, slaving for assignments and passing exams to a paid job whereby my paycheck comes in the form of the end-of-term results. I was locked in an inescapable merry-go-round of weekly routines.

But gradually, I formed a growing relationship with my keyboard sitting in my hostel room by practicing during my free time sandwiched between classes and at night, another affair with a certain piano in the maze of practice rooms within the block.

I was progressing well I supposed, albeit half-heartedly, until I messed myself up with a drug. The if-only-I-could-skip-a-semester-to-do-whatever-I-want drug.

I was suddenly intoxicated by the thought of having the luxury of time, the peaceful sleep from resting my head on a pillow of non-existing stress, the recuperation my body needs. All I had to do is sign myself out of college for a term. Call me delusional but I could almost feel the responsibilities peeling away like a snake shedding its old skin.

I want it so badly. I NEED it awfully. Because it is not about shunning from duties, not about soaking up a self-declared vacation in an isolated bubble, not about hibernating to make-up for my sleep-deprived days.

It is about finding my footing again. I nearly dipped under the passing mark for a relatively simple test and that is enough to sound the alarm. To warn myself that I am losing my grip on college reality. I used to be thirsty all the time, for knowledge, the one drink I could never get drunk on. But half a semester is gone and I am still satiated from past term’s input, save piano classes, where I couldn’t stop practicing so that my lecturer would teach me more in the next lesson. Maybe a 4-month break could shatter the wall of the dam and flood my drained mood for learning.

Then again, there is the question of whether I deserve a getaway. An escapade only serves as a catalyst to further encourage prolonged absence from the college scene. Plus, I might turn seeking for motivation to developing the chronic disease of irresponsibility, which I contract even during 2-week holidays.

So, to ditch or not to ditch?

Or I should just sit around and wait and try to untangle myself from the strains of this impulsive notion. Who knows it is nothing more than a cotton candy, the idea tempting and inviting but melts the moment it touches the tongue of reality.  

“Shutting off the thought process is not rejuvenation; the mind is like a car battery – it recharges by running.” – Bill Watterson.

I shall take your words for now and strive on. 

Let's waste time chasing cars

The Koreans asked God when would they win the FIFA World Cup and God replied, "100 years later."
They cried, because they would not be around to witness their victory.

The Japanese then asked God when would their team win the World Cup and God told them, "200 years later."
They cried too, because they would be dead by then.

Then the Malaysians asked God too, "When wiill Malaysia win the World Cup?"
God cried.



Judging by the way Eu Chern, Jing Hua, Joanna and Shereen were laughing, I supposed the joke was a success. Credits to Jia Tong, of course, for posting it up on Facebook.

Anyway, we spent the night holed up in the Starbucks at Jaya One after dinner at Kitchen Creatures in Centrepoint. I like the ambiance of both venues. And the cushions in the former were really comfy.

It was a quiet evening with quiet chatter. Nothing boisterous this time round. Even my camera was silent throughout.

Suited my mood, I guess. I was tired. Midterms had been driving me nuts.

Longed for the full circle of Les Sluts.

Soon, I hope?

I feel the earth move under my feet

Earth Riff

By Tan Ai Jia, Tham Ying Hui

[Verse]

Have you ever imagine

That one day we wake up and there’s no light

How would you tell your children

That the world was a kaleidoscope of colours

Have you ever imagine

One day the earth stop spinning and there’s no tomorrow

How would you ever know

That you could live your dreams in reality

[Pre-chorus]

Time is slipping away

The earth is starting to fade

[Chorus]

Switch on your love and light up the earth

Hold up your paint brush, give the grass a green lush

Let the river flow and nature glow

Time won’t wait so lend us your hand

[Verse]

Have you ever imagine

That one day we wake up and there’s no light

How would you tell your children

That the world was a kaleidoscope of colours

[Pre-chorus]

Time is slipping away

The earth is starting to fade

[Chorus]

Switch on your love and light up the earth

Hold up your paint brush, give the grass a green lush

Let the river flow and nature glow

Time won’t wait so lend us your hand

[Bridge]

Open your eyes to the waves of disasters

Tune your ears to the cries of the planet

Forest fires eat trees and spit out haze

Houses dance and spin their way up the hurricane

Melting of ice-caps lick cities with a blue tongue

Ashes of erupted volcano invade the lungs 

In the end, it's not they, he or she

It just boils down to you and me

[Chorus]

Switch on your love and light up the earth

Hold up your paint brush, give the grass a green lush

Let the river flow and nature glow

Time won’t wait so lend us your hand

As much as I hate composing with a deadline looming over me and with guidelines or specifics to steer me rather than my mood and inspiration, I'm beginning to appreciate and accept Song Writing as a platform to experiment with the resources I have and stage the bullshit my mind produces without being thrown tomatoes at, rather than just another subject I have to pass. Granted, I don't learn as much as I do in the practical-based classes but hey, nothing beats knowing where I stand in this aspect of music. I write lyrics. As opposed to composing the melody. Yes. My poems still make people puke but I guess it just needs time. And plenty of research. And a fucking lot of trial and error.

But I'll get there one day. Just like how I did with my once-disastrous writing ability. Just like my still lamentable piano-playing knowledge. Just like every damn skill I acquired.

Sucks that I'm a late bloomer.  

People make the world go round

The trip to Leisure Mall for dinner was spontaneous.  

So was the urge to have our meal in 3 separate stores.
We shared 2 plates of Chee Cheong Fun and had a bowl of Ice-Kacang each at a store by the roadside because Ai Jia recommended it.
We drank some herbal tea because Derene wanted to soothe her cough.
We bought ourselves herbal tea eggs simply because it smelled so damn good.
I swear, we had only 1 dinner. Just at 3 different places.
And all of it cost less than if we ate at Tai Zi or any of the cafés along the row the shops outside the campus. No, mamak isn't counted.
We should do this more often. Thrifty and adventurous and fun.
Plus, I would actually know where to bring people to eat the next time I have friends visiting.
Though the highlight of the evening, I supposed, was us getting stuck near the bus stop and seeking shelter under the flyover from the drizzling rain because no freaking taxi wanted to head towards Taman Connaught. Derene waved one taxi down after another but none agreed to fetch us back to the college. Afraid of the jam much? So we stayed stranded. For about half an hour. Now THAT was something to remember.

Of course, the whole jalan-jalan-cari-makan thing wouldn’t have worked if it weren’t for the cancellation of my band practice, reasons for which are too complicated to explain and for you to comprehend.

So, yeah. It was a nice eating trip with Derene, Ai Jia and Hooi Ching. Interesting but comfortable company.
Thank you for showing me around the area (:

Paranoia is all I got left

Her movement was too slow for my liking.

My feet were twitching impatiently as I watched the pile of yellow recital forms dwindled and her calling out the names one by freaking one. I wonder if the Mann in her name has any relation to speed in Chinese.

But all of a sudden, “Tham Ying Hui! Who’s Tham Ying Hui?”

“Here! I’m Ying Hui!”

She kept on hollering my name. I shouted HERE again, slightly sharper than I intended. And she spun around.

“Oh there you are! Sorry, I can’t seem to remember how you look like!” I was THAT close to raising my brows in incredulity.

Hmmm. She was smiling radiantly. Weird. I should definitely have my lenses checked soon. The high power must have blurred my eyesight till I mistook her pursed lips as a smile. Though should the sight be true, there could only be 2 reasons: she was getting married or she had fatally injured a Contemporary student. I think the latter scenario would be more convincing.

Weird thing was, I thought her forgetting my face was next to impossible, considering what the couple of us did in a particular recital last semester. An incident I do not want to remember too fondly of.

“It’s okay,” I forced myself to be courteous, “Thank you.”

I restrained from snatching the paper from her so quickly that it would give her a paper cut. I still need 4 more of her signatures to pass the damn subject. Ugh. 

Cause I've got an ear to provide, if you'll be content with the outside of me

I went with a sole intention to mark off another recital attendance. Instead, I got a wicked voice and acoustic guitar performance by Beau Bristow, with David Story as an opening act. It was refreshing, listening to something that wasn’t jazz or blues or anything from the appreciate-or-die category inscribed into the syllabus.

Yes. I’m not afraid to admit I’ll never love jazz. At least not the obsessive kind of love, like the way I devoted myself to punk rock once. I supposed it has a lot to do with the lyrics, or the lack thereof for jazz. Words affect me immensely. More than the melody, I think. Because the lyrics speaks a world about the composer and the singer. And my mood.

Anyway, their voices… *swoons* David’s reminded me of Chris Martin, especially when he was singing a cover of Viva la Vida. Loved the songs he wrote as well. And yes, David, you should definitely have ‘Heart and Soul’ on your next album! Beau’s voice was a mix of different artists whom I couldn’t pinpoint, but it was BEAUtiful all the same. His rendition of Chasing Cars was superb but I thought the guitar kind of drowned him out at the end when he was unleashing the power of Looping. I still loved the songs he composed better, with ‘Don’t Get Too Close to Me’ best. The lyrics spoke my mind. And it assured me that I wasn’t alone feeling that way (:

Sad that I couldn’t linger around longer to get their CDs or join them for lunch. Boo band coaching. I’m crossing my fingers they will be back soon.  

Please, School of Music, bring in more of this sort of awesome artists. Think of the bunch of jazz music misfits like me who know where their place in the scene is and want to venture deeper into it.   

Hey how ya doin'

How long has it been

Tell me your story 

But keep it nice and thin

Cause I've got an ear to provide

If you'll be content with the outside of me

Can't let you touch all that's inside

Don't get too close to me

Don't get too close to me

Can't let me feel what I can't hide

Don't get too close to me

Don't get too close to me

How 'bout this weather

How's your mom and dad

I like your hair short like this

I guess it must be easier to have

You can fill in the blanks 

With meaningless phrases we both say

I'm superficial, it's all that I know

I'm not sure, I've got the strength to begin

To let you see in between all the rest of me

Trapped behind 20 years of skin

I know, I know this intimate disaster

I know, I know that all it takes is time

I know, I know my heart is wrapped in plaster

I know, I know your arms are open wide

Grandma doesn't like BRATs. BRATs doesn't like grandma either.

KTM. Suffocated.

I swear, you couldn’t get a worst train ride experience than a journey on the KTM.  Because no matter how many stations you passed, the coach would stay stubbornly space-tight, the oxygen level would remain barely sufficient and you would be continuously squashed between 2 not-so-pleasant-looking people who didn’t seem to need to get off till you did. Plus, there was always that 9 out of 10 chance of going through a minor glitch in the tracks or a momentary railway breakdown.  

Wow, Malaysia, I applaud you. KTM is indeed a BRILLIANT way to promote tourism.

But let’s view things from a positive perspective. We bumped into Hana at the Central station (: and we made it to Mid Valley well and alive.

MPH. Conquered.

“Oh my God! I see Ben-Jie! Hide, guys!”

We huddled close and ducked our head. He didn’t even bothered to scan the table 2 feet away from him and strode straight into the bookshop. Perfect.

“Alright. If he calls, just tell him ‘we’re here’ and let him wander around and see how long we can keep him stranded in there!”

The phone rang.

“Yes we’re in there! Wave your hand! Can you see us? We’re waving our hands too!”

Back in the cramped up confines of Secret Recipe, a bunch of maniacs were flinging their arms about like demented windmills.

“You still can’t see us? Okay. Why don’t you jump? Yes, jump!”

Some of us had trouble breathing from laughing so hard. Then, we simply couldn’t take it anymore and snuck sneakily into the book heaven to spy and entertain ourselves with the sight of a weirdo pouncing amongst shelves of books. But he caught us first. Boo. And he didn’t heed Yiing Huey’s instruction to jump >:(

“Well, this is certainly an interesting way to start the day.”

It definitely was, Hana.

GSC Cinema. Rejected.

Our plan to catch a movie EPIC FAILED. And we didn’t even come close, not to grabbing the tickets, mind you, but to braving the queue.

Reminder: Bring pet snakes or cockroaches to freak people out. Then lining up wouldn’t be such a dire job anymore.

Manhattan Fish Market. Conquered.

The Power of Persuasion Annoyance.

“Sorry, miss, we can't join the table up, but we can put you in 2 tables, 6 each.”

PREPOSTEROUS.

Oh, right. The steel-legged tables were SO LUDICROUSLY HEAVY that only Chuck Norris could move them.

Our POLITE PLEAS and furrowed brows and dramatic frustrated sighs probably felt like physical pokes in the waiter’s back. Sorry for the pressure we placed on you, mister, but we simply had to sit together. And we did.

So we dined in peace. Or as peaceful as BRATs could get.

RedBox. Rejected.

The only empty slot was at 5pm, more than 120 minutes away. NoOOooOoooOoO. Not that the crowded lala-infested lobby appeared inviting in the first place. We just had so many favourite English songs in common that it would be a waste if we didn’t scream them together.

In the end, we settled for stoning at the foyer and mocking the Backstreet Boys video till someone suggested we hit the bowling alley. Gah. We were THAT close to torturing the guys. You have no idea how relieved Rooben and Ben-Jie looked.

Bowling alley. Rejected.

We were put on the waiting list. After 15 people, which I was sure included relatively big groups like ours.

Owww Rooben, why didn’t you try seducing that guy at the counter? We could have enjoyed a couple of free games. Haha. 

THE Garden. Conquered.

“Hey guys, have you been to the garden above the Gardens?”

I never even knew of its existence. Oooo…adventure!

None of us was interested in exercising so we lingered around the nearest lift and waited. And waited. 10 minutes and the bloody thing was still hovering 3 stories above us.

“You guys know what Sandra would say, right?”

USE THE STAIRS.

No one bulged. But the sign refused to flash ‘3’.

Damn it. Fine.

We used the stairs. Sandra would be so proud.

*****************************************************************************

If it weren’t for the heat and construction going on, I would have been obsessed with the place. Maybe it would have been better suited at night. As it was, I still loved the hidden alcove of greenery. It was so cam-whore-friendly!

Thank you, Ben-Jie, for taking us there!

Curious? Hint: It surrounds a certain club.

Shhh. It’s our secret to keep >:)

Starbucks. Conquered.

The last leg of the race. I mean, gathering. The funny thing was, the whole group just suddenly disintegrated, saved me, my sis, Sara, Yiing Huey, Rooben and Ben-Jie.  The knights of the Starbucks round table. Spent the last half an hour playing Donkey and being random.

Bus and LRT ride. Conquered.

We missed the Mid Valley - Bangsar shuttle bus. So we took the Rapid KL, thinking we could save time. We got a tour around the Bangsar residential area instead. Well, at least I got to chat with Yiing Huey the entire trip. Ben-Jie was talking to Tristan. Only my sis stoned in the single seat. Sad. 

One end of the table

The other end

William's analysis of the photo: Fifi not ready; Rooben is struck by how short Hana is; Esther jadi tikus; Grace's post blocks out Hana; Ying Hui looks like she's going to fall; Ying Ying must have seen a movie star passed by; Beverlley is frowning at her; as for Ben-Jie, either a stomachache or wondering what is he doing there. 

At the secret garden

Lembab! 

Ben-Jie, Esther, Hana, Sara, Chui Vern, Rooben, Tristan

Ying Ying, me, Beverlley, Yiing Huey, Grace, Janice, Fifi

.

Don't let the photos fool you, it was FREAKING COLD

Sara

Hana

Fifi

Java Chip and Green Tea

Ben-Jie the pro cam-whore. He just need one take.

Rooben

Chui Vern

Ying Hui senior and Yiing Huey junior

No wonder Tristan's shirt says 'Different Class'

Tristan

Ben-Jie

*Bang bang bang* Who died? Me.

In all my ranting of my timetable, which can only be described as madness with a capital M, I've failed to put a copy of it up. 

Monday

9.30am-11am   Introduction to Music History

12pm-1pm   Harmonic Analysis of Modern Music 3

1pm-2pm   Band practice

5.30pm-7pm   Choir

Tuesday

1.30pm-2pm   Band coaching

2pm-3pm Improvisation Skills 2

*Only when it is called for* 8pm-9pm   Band practice

Wednesday

9.30am-11am   Introduction to Music History

12pm-1pm   Harmonic Analysis of Modern Music 3

2pm-3pm   Ear Training 3

3pm-4pm   Piano lesson

4.30pm-5pm   Viola lesson

5.30pm-7pm   Choir

Thursday

2pm-3pm   Improvisation Skills 2

3.30pm-4.30pm   Song Writing 2

*On every other week* 6.30pm-7.30pm   CPS band practice

8pm-9pm   Band practice

Friday

10am-12pm   Contemporary Playing Skills 1

12pm-1pm   Ear Training 3

1pm-3pm   Master Class

3pm-5pm   Modern Band Ensemble

Woohoo. I'm staring death in the face. 

Monday: Mind is still restless from the past weekend’s rendezvous and luxuries

Tuesday: Craves for the still-faraway coming weekend

Wednesday: Hellish schedule forces the mind to settle down

Thursday: More or less falls into step with the pace of the work, assignments and practices

Friday: Feels annoyed that another unpredictable weekend will once again disrupt the study mood 

Still your tongue and see the destruction you've caused

I wish you’d know how it was like being on the receiving end on your remark.

How much your words stung.

I did not expect you to ride on the waves of my elation for you obviously had not been through that journey, but I was not selfish enough to not want you to share my excitement.

I did not ask for your empathy in what I am trying to overcome now, but maybe your sympathy.

I was not counting on your questioning of my hold on reality, but perhaps on your steering me in the right direction.

The least you could do was say, “Hey, screw those people. You have me.”

Then again, I knew you well enough to sense your reaction.  

But if my counter act had been hurtful and I sounded as though I were some egoistic maniac who did not give a damn about stabbing back, I am sorry. One’s claws do extend unconsciously while in self-defensive mode.  

Coz maybe in the future, you're gonna come back to me

5th June - 8th June 2010, effing best 4 days of the year, so far

1. I met people who oozed awesomeness. Screw the fact that I was the oldest in the camp the only one who wasn’t a teenager, these bunch of urchins had an uncanny ability to make me laugh. I must have turned my radio to the right channel before I left for Sarawak coz I had no trouble tuning into their frequency. We fooled around, we snickered at a certain person’s PMS mood swings, we pulled pranks, we guffawed at ‘unintentional’ shots of people’s underwears, we painted the town red. Bless my immaturity. Seriously, where have you guys been in my entire life?

2. I was in an English-speaking heaven. We were all Bananas, or at least believed we were so. Feeling very English, weren’t we, mates? It was like being with Les Sluts; there were no false pretenses on my part, no keeping my tendency to use bombastic words in check, no struggling to brush off the dust on my selves of half-forgotten Chinese language, no forceful, unnecessary usage of ‘lah’ just to fit in and no fear of falling under the ‘insanity-prone’ category. I couldn’t describe my elation and contentment but it felt better than obtaining freedom after finals. And when I greeted people Good Morning, I actually meant it, sincerely.

3. I learnt throughout these four days more than I ever will in my four years of music course, in the sense of knocking down the wall of fear and facing the thorns of life as they were, especially the ones that cause a pain in the ass. A short briefing, during which we were put to practice our skills and got disdain looks and sharp remarks from the facilitators, was all we got before being shoved into the wild to do our field assignments. Thank God for my group members, coz I had never felt so lost in finding an angle to my story and figuring out the gist of what I wanted to write. We had to dig for information, from observing the process and deft movements of the men preparing the Ikan Terubok Masin to interviewing strangers at the Satok Market. Bless the lovely people who were so patient to let us bug them with question after question on their opinion on the market, the famous fish delicacy and the town!

4. The food. Or should I say, the junk food.

“There is a saying that you will never be hungry in a BRATs camp”

And yes, the saying was true. I swear, besides the three main buffet-based meals, the seniors filled the time in-between veraciously fattening us up. We could be burying our heads in the pile of notes that we compiled or typing out our articles feverishly or brainstorming on our video, and Tristan and Sandra would appear at our table to unload a mountain of junk food. Rocky, Mamee Monster, Twisties, Nachos, Love Letter, Jelly and the list went on.

“Are you guys hungry?”

“Who wants more Double Decker?”

“If you guys are hungry, we bought some Maggi cups!”

“You guys can boil water to make some coffee” while Tristan waved a boxed of packet Nescafe in the air.

“Packet Milo, people! Or some of you may prefer the canned of Nescafe!”

“If you guys feel hungry, tell us and we’ll bring in more food for you guys!”

Whoa. We were pampered. See 3G, Sandra wasn’t just being helpful at showing us where the stairs was.

5. I nearly died laughing from the lame/dirty/racist jokes. Not to mention the tormenting mind games imposed upon us by Tristan, Sandra and Niki.

- How many times did the sheep jump over the wall?

- Guess the number of horses

- What grandma likes and doesn’t like

- How many pencils are there?

- Bang, bang, bang. Who died?

- Black magic

- The 3 random things

If you were one of the poor retarded souls, like me, who took almost the whole duration of the camp to decipher the game, IT WAS PURE TORTURE, OKAY? I saw the mad, frustrated glint in Zen’s eyes and the confused look on Jaclyn’s face when they tried to crack the Grandma Game and I doubt I appeared any less inane when I tried to figure out How Many Times Did The Sheep Jump Over The Wall and the number of horses and Who Died. But now, we’ve all graduated from the BRATs mind games and are eligible to bring torture to our juniors and other peasants. Revenge is sweet, baby.

6. The endless stream of games. My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean. Husband and Wife. Aiyo, Ping Piang Po. Drop the Curtain and Call the Name. Honey, I Love You, but I can’t Smile.

I applaud them for finding effective ways to keep us awake to finish up our assignments. And gluing us together (:

The list could go on forever; these are just a few of my favourite things.

All I could say is, THANK YOU Fate, for bringing these nutcase, awesome Bright Roving Annoying Teenagers into my life; THANK YOU BRATs, for giving me an experience of a lifetime; THANK YOU mom, for cello taping my hands to the laptop so that I would try my luck and write a thousand word essay within two hours before the deadline. 

Introduction to BRATs

The buffet spread for all of our breakfasts and lunches

Our first dinner at a place near the hotel we were staying at. 

O Jian. Yum. With cracker instead of egg.

Fried chicken

A Sarawakian vegetable called Paku Miding

I was busy torturing

V

V

V

This is what happens when you can't get the mind games:
Audrey: *Sad face* I don't get it!
Shawn: Gaps like a goldfish.
Zen: The string attached to your tag becomes tasty *Ngom ngom ngom*

On our way to the Semenggoh Nature Reserve to see Orang Utans, aka Utan Man.

Being 'awed' by the primates

My team members (:

Want a smoke?

+

=

While we slaved away...

....some collapsed from brain exhaustion...

....some became disciples of Tristan...

I think I was listening to some System of a Down song on Jia Shern's iPhone.
No idea what William was doing.

Stress gets to the best of us sometimes

Hungry? This is only a quarter of what they actually fed us with during our assignment-rushing-period

Kay Chai

Chui Vern

the Schizophrenic and the Emo

Syazana

Jia Shern and Zen

Nadhirah

Owayne

Tristan and Esther

Akash.
Was it Jason or Ivy who pronounced his name as A-Cash? Very British. Haha.

Nicholas

I really can't believe this guy's two years younger than me T.T

Our team leader, Damien

Jaclyn

Rooben

 Jason Lioh, Ian Yee, Niki Cheong, Ivy, Sharmila Nair

We decided to skip the buffet lunch and go hunting for Sarawak laksa and Mee Kolo

No offense to Penangites, but, personally, I prefer Sarawak laksa to Penang's sour one

Jia Tong and William

Yu Li and Gavin

Carmen and Rachel

Owayne, Anusha, Shin Yee

Narmadha

Greedy

Shawn and Jia Shern

Zen, Ben-Jie and Nicholas

Rachel, Sara and Hana

Look what I stumbled upon when we were scouting for pepper at the Main Bazaar! Heaven!

Souvenir for myself (:

Beverlley

Dahlan and Gavin. Jacob and Edward.

Sorry, inside joke.

Dahlan, Ying Ying, Owayne, Nicholas, Beverlley, Tristan, Ben-Jie
Fifi, Nadhirah, me, Akash

Tristan came to say goodbye before boarding his flight

Guess the Sarawak laksa/Mee Kolo wasn't enough to keep him alive till dinner on the plane

On the KLIA Express back to Central

We're all suffering from the BRATs Syndrome, though Tristan defined it as BRATs Really Adore Tristan Syndrome. Not in a million years.

Less than three BRATs <3