Saturday, September 25, 2004


Things to do for the upcoming week:

1. Kick ball properly on Monday.

2. Kick the opposition's butt (figuratively, of course).

3. NOT kick myself in the head after the Haematology Assessment due to stupidity. Thus, must make sure I'll be prepared by Thursday. (help!)

Anyway, went to support the fellas in their very first football Cup match against Sem 2... congratulations on your win, dudes!! It was a fun-filled afternoon with pom-poms and stress-relieving cheers. The supporters were almost blinded by a certain pair of neon orange shoes, amazed by the acrobatic prowess of the Captain, the Kenyan dude's tendangan basikal (too bad it didn't go in), and Mighty Mouse zipping around the field like nobody's business despite injury... RESPECT. The goals were, erm, interesting too. Coachie scored the 1st one (yeah, Coach!), Ah Kim the Ah Pek Waterboy turned goal-scorer next, followed by the Kenyan dude. The Sem 2 boys played rough, the leading striker was quite syok sendiri, and though he was good, well in case they haven't noticed, football is a TEAM sport.

3-0. Tres bien! Tres bien! Sorry to the dudes for not being able to support 'em this coming Monday... we have our own battles to fight then. ;)

Good luck to everyone in your respective events in the Cup as well as for the Assessment on Thursday!

YK... out!

Saturday, September 18, 2004


The Futsal matches have been postponed to a week later, Sept 27. Cheh. Potong stim.

Nevermind. More time = more training. Jeng jeng jeng...

Blood will be spilled on the Futsal grounds on that Monday.

Did I say blood? I mean, sweat. Geez, I must be studying too much of Haematology...


P/S- To my batchmates, PLEASE COME AND SUPPORT US then!!! That is, if you already have finished revising for the Assessment. Studies always comes first. So, you guys study kau-kau now, okay? ;)

Friday, September 17, 2004

What Drives You?

Passion. This was Toyota F1 racing team’s tagline (“What drives you? Passion.”). Unfortunately, passion alone was not enough for it to finish races consistently, let alone win GPs. There other factors involved as well, ie bigger budget to improve on the engine technology, better drivers, improved car design, etc. But for a toddler of an F1 racing team, it’s doing pretty alright, I think. At least it’s heading in the right direction, which is towards improvement, unlike McLaren. What a disappointing performance from the team this season in general. Everybody now, heave a big collective sigh for this particular team! SIGH!

However, passion is always a good way to start. Without passion, life would be cold, dreary, and to a certain extent, meaningless. It is the infusion of passion that gives food its flavour, tango its sensuality and romance its allure. Roald Dahl once mentioned in his book My Year, it doesn’t matter where your enthusiasm lies, whether if its collecting stamps or flying airplanes—it embodies who you are and it is your passion that gives you the extra "oomph" in life. Life is no longer just a mere day-to-day routine; you actually have something to look forward to each day.

Just like its symbol, the flames of passion would sizzle out quickly if not sustained. Acquiring passion is the easy part. Maintaining it so it wouldn’t die out or turn into something that would consume and burn the self is another story altogether.

But it is always a good way to start.

Fear. An excellent source of motivation, but unfortunately it is also among the unhealthiest ones. The pharaohs of Egypt, dictators and megalomaniacal office managers use this to push their people to get things done. It IS effective but only for a while. Soon, empires will crumble (due to rebellion) and psycho managers get fired (due to complaints received by the Human Resources Dept) or at least, they die of heart problems by being total control freaks.

It is also isn’t quite healthy for the self. With fear, the stress level shoots up, the body is in excess of adrenaline and under constant strain. Before you know it, you’re falling sick and feeling low pretty often and you don’t know why.

I used to be so afraid of failing my exams. I know, it sounds very silly but it’s true. So I would study a lot to avoid failing.

Imagine how shaken I was when I had my near-failure experience for the CVS Assessment. My itty-bitty heart nearly broke into two when I realised that there was a VERY high probability of me experiencing academic failure for the first time. It was an agonising experience before the results were out, but valuable. Self-doubt is no fun. Yet, at the same time, I acquired a whole new angle of looking at things. There are more to life other than academics.

I passed in the end (I attribute it to divine intervention—thanks, God! :D). And I no longer have this fear of failing. But hey, just because I am no longer afraid of it, it doesn’t mean that I would purposely want to! Instead, I discovered a new source motivation which is far more relaxing and positive:

Inspiration. And I don’t mean it in the breathing sense. What does this word represent to you? William Hung tarnished it by using it as the title of his so-called album. I bet the US government uses his album to torture terrorist suspects into divulging secrets (“Welcome to the Hotel California...” “Stop, PLEASE STOP! I’ll talk!”). Yet despite the pain-inducing noise which he dares call music, he’s still making loads of cash (bugger...). But enough about the not-so-banging dude.

True inspiration is a great feeling, honestly. It envelopes you and you feel calm, content and at peace, with yourself as well as the world. Things become clearer and you have a sense of purpose. You KNOW that every action you take matters, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem. You strive to become a better person, to be the best, because you want to, because you KNOW that you have so much potential within yourself that it would be a great waste if you don’t put it to good use. As Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom (of the Opera) sang, it is something that would “make my song take flight.”

That is inspiration, to me.

It could take shape in many forms. It could be certain events or a person. It could be God. It could be anything, really. But once you have found and tapped its source, there’s no turning back. And soon you’ll realise that the inspiration was always within the self. The outside source was merely there to help you appreciate it. A catalyst of some sort, also as a source of strength and comfort when we feel tired and weary. A reminder that we are never truly alone.

Me and the girls in the Futsal team will be playing this Monday against other batches for the school’s cup tournament. Hopefully we’ll do well. One thing’s for sure—we ain’t going down without a fight. ;) Haemotology Assessment is coming up soon, too. And so I shall sing in the shower, “I will survive! I WILL SURVIVE!” to perk myself up. :P

Whatever it is, ‘tis very important to have your heart in the things you do. Otherwise, life would be a huge waste of time.

Follow your bliss.

"Close your eyes; let your spirit start to soar
And you'll live as you've never lived before."
- Music of The Night from The Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

. . . . , tu es la source de mon inspiration. Merci.

Sunday, September 12, 2004

Nothing Ado About Much

ACT V SCENE I. Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle.


What is it she does now? Look, how she rubs her hands.

It is an accustomed action with her, to seem thus washing her hands: I have known her continue in this a quarter of an hour.

Yet here's a spot.

Out, damned spot! out, I say!--One: two: why,then, 'tis time to do't.--Hell is murky!--Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, and afeard? What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account?--Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him.

The thane of Fife had a wife: where is she now?--What, will these hands ne'er be clean?--No more o'that, my lord, no more o' that: you mar all with this starting.

Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh!

Wash your hands, put on your nightgown; look not so pale.--I tell you yet again, Banquo's buried; he cannot come out on's grave.

To bed, to bed! there's knocking at the gate:come, come, come, come, give me your hand. What's done cannot be undone.--To bed, to bed, to bed!

That’s why, woman. Take part in murder-lah. See what has happened. Experiencing psychosomatic disturbances now. Tsk tsk.

Welcome to a new BLOODY system, Haematology. What’s new? Not much. It’s still the usual works—a lot of stuff to read up on, new practical skills to learn (for eg, palpating for the lymph nodes in the axilla region aka massaging people’s sweaty armpits)... the only difference for this particular system is that it’s more fluid (pun intended) and it holds the record for the highest failure rate, so extra effort is needed. SIGH.

Well, if you wanna see the coagulation system (the blood-clotting system, for the non-medical students) in action, just ask anyone in the Futsal team to flash her shins or feet at you. I’m singing Purple Toes (to the tune of Prince’s Purple Rain) all over again. The things we go through for the love of the game...


I am in blood
Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,
Returning were as tedious as go o’er
I hope to not drown in this system. Goodbye.

(All literary excerpts from William Shakespeare's 'Macbeth.')

Sunday, September 05, 2004


I am absolutely certain that Christina Aguilera did not have the school’s orientation in mind when she recorded this song. But it definitely was dirty. Literally.

I was one of the Station Masters for the tele-match. And boy, was it fun! I didn’t sign up for it, actually, but I did it as favour to substitute another person who couldn’t make it. But I’m glad I went. It was me, The Roommate (TR) and The Ex-Roommate (TXR) in charge of a station.

TR was initially hell-bent on ragging the Juniors after they failed to clean up after themselves after Variety Night. However, it was a reversal of roles between me and her when we reached there. I somehow morphed into a psycho drill sergeant and TR ended up as Ms Nice Gal. Both TR and TXR dubbed me as ‘BBQ Chicken’—Bossy, Bitchy Queen who wouldn’t stop making noise (clucking?) like a chicken. Hmm. Maybe I shouldn’t eat them too much. But chicken is so yummy. Anyway, I was yelling to my heart’s content. (“Hurry up lah! Why so slow? Don’t waste time!” “Why is it so quiet??!?! Cheer on your teammates lah!” “Woi! Keep the bottle behind the line! Not fair for the other team, okay?!?!”) And when the 2 teams were up for cheer fight, I would often stop them halfway and go, “What is this you are cheering? I can’t hear a word you’re saying! ARTICULATE your words properly! And LOUDER!” or when a group cheats and chants only 3 words over and over again (which is easier), “Eh, what’s this? 3 words only? Why is your vocabulary so limited? Do your proper cheer!” Yes, I know. A demented English professor, I was. :P

While all this was going on, TXR was in the background, steadily concocting a disgusting mixture of eggs, flour, sarsi and water. I was the loud, bitchy one. She was the quiet, sneaky one, pouring the evil-smelling liquid on their heads. Kekeke. My favourite forfeit for the losers was actually this: requesting for them to sing the national anthem loud and proud, full of expression. TXR and I were very proud and happy to see them so patriotic. ;P

I may have been bitchy, and the Juniors definitely left the station dirtier, but we weren’t mean. We removed any visible stones that could’ve injured them. (I remember hurting myself quite badly during my own orientation’s commando crawl. The sadistic bastard of a senior deliberately left eggshells in the mud. I still have the scars on my feet, knees and elbows. :( ) And we always cracked the eggs before hand instead of smashing them straight onto the person, which could be quite painful.

Towards the end of the whole thing, we were messing around with other fellow seniors and ended up incredibly filthy. I think I was almost as dirty as I was during my own orientation. It was a whole lot of fun, though! :)

You know, it actually felt very good yelling around, acting like I’m some kinda, erm, ‘boss’. Hehehe. ;P Must be all the unresolved tension accumulated before the RS Assessment. But then I shouldn’t feel too amused and turn this into a bad habit. Guys don’t dig ganas chicks. And I have no intention whatsoever of dying an old maid. (“The horrors!!!”) Thank goodness for Futsal—a fun, legitimate way to release all pent-up stress and aggression.

It’s fun getting down and dirty once in a while. ;)