18岁的天空很青涩
有人说，市场如战场，而有很多声音要我在毫无预备的情况下被推入市场。
我的个人原则是我得在很高学识下，才进入这所谓战场。
我心里那豪迈浑厚的声音告诉我要确切的认清自己的目标后，方才以全速马力前进。
可是，在这18岁的天空里，我的目标非常迷茫，宛如在辽阔无垠的大海中航海的船遇到暴风后，失去了航海方向，毫无目地的地往前行。
说实话，这还不是我似弱者般个性的怂恿吗？我害怕面对未来，未来会是个很可怕的未知数，而这未知数让我坐立不安，好像一切都不在我的掌控内。
我不是不接受别人的劝告，而是我自己无法踏出信心的一大步。
我知道我的倔强的坚持是大人们所谓的任性不听话，殊不知这是因为正值花样年华，乳臭未干少年无知的想法。
别人告诉我不要轻易改变自己的理想，坚持自己的梦想，披荆斩棘的去圆梦，但是处在一条的主干路，而我被逼迫在好多分岔路选择一条的困境中，我真的无能为力啊。
我家人认为工程师最适合我，但是这真的是我由衷想要的吗？
我想处于18岁青涩天空里的少年人不止我一个吧!
太多的抉择，太多的dilemma, 太多的不安，不再是在我能控制的范畴里了。
有人甚至讽刺我，不如你就读书读到死好了，不用再去找工作了。
我还真是顶不顺，我又没有说不去找工作，我只是坚持我个人原则，在有一定的学问后，再去考虑找份工作...
不是有句话说“学无止境”吗？
我没去做假期工作就说成一世不去工作，这讽刺的人还真是偏激叻！
我知道他们只是基于关心我，但是不要以这种强烈讥讽的方式，因为我认为这真的很恶劣！
我知道我已是要将近19岁的人了，可是还是这么不成熟，不懂的为将来打算，甚至还要别人娇生惯养的保护呵护，像小花一样给人笑话...
是我太过于任性吗？
我知道当负面的情绪从心底如决堤般浩然涌流的时候，我真的会崩溃，倔强的外壳决裂，畏缩在一旁顾影自怜。
正月起，我就得开始新的一个里程碑，踏入新的世界。
我也不知道我已预备好了不，可是我想不应该是在我这种仍然处于浑浑噩噩的情况下吧！
Friday, December 13, 2013
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
Write a story with the ending 'family was all that mattered in the end'.
It was a cold bleak night. The wind sent chills and shivers across his nerves. His eyes were closed. Everything seemed to be still except his trembling hands owing to the extreme coldness. He opened his eyes again, trying to focus on not letting the strong urge pull him under and wash through him.
He sighed and small white vortexes blew out from his mouth. He crouched over the bus stop which could shelter him from the terrible snow. Before he could control his mind, he inserted his hands into his thick outer coat. He took out a packet of capsules as the surge of desire ran through his sinew. He tore the aluminIum foil but suddenly, his eyes popped open and his hands instinctively tossed it in front to a heap of snow.
He regretted how this could be happening to him. He had never imagined this could be the consequences. Everything would have been different if he had listened to his parents' advice and had been aware of his peers.
"Can you stop controlling my life? It's not my life anymore! You're such a control freak!" he shouted at the top of his voice at his mother.
"How dare you use that tone on me, young man", her voice was harshly clipped, "Go to your room!"
It was then with a bang he swung the door shut behind. He had a strong aversion to her labeling him 'young man' like a 10-year-old kid and God, he was 18 years old!
He doubted if it was the reason to all these. He remembered he could not bear cramming for approaching examinations. He could not stand the way his parents exerted pressure on him in such a way that he felt so miserable, stressed and anguished. He did not want a life like that. He felt compelled to sacrifice his entertainment, his dream of being a professional artistic pianist, his chance of catching the trade winds in his sail, and something much more than these, the opportunity of finding a more significant meaning in life. He thought it could have been much more different than a tedious life of being a rag doll, insanely manipulated by a control freak.
Plunging himself into a drug-induced stupor, he realised that he could find his relief through drugs. Nothing at all to suggest that he could be so addicted to drugs like any other of his friends. In wild fanatic, they danced in order to find a release; away from a realistic world into a sheer fantasy. The ecstasy ran amok in a quick tempo with the unfamiliar hot music blaring out from the hidden stereo.
The background changed to the fiendishly icy bus stop. Tears which welled up in his eyes streamed down his unkempt face. His hands simply lingered upon his eyes and deep in his heart, he braced for the familiar overwhelmed feelings. He chided himself for blubbering like a big baby.
A thicker cloth draped across his shoulders down to his back out of the blue. Glancing upward, he was taken aback by the silhouetted figures looming before him. As the tears blurred his sight, he wiped them away and scrutinised each of them carefully.
"Mum? dad?"
His mother languidly leaned across him and in a swift movement, she got him in her hug before her stream of apologies burst out. She broke down with her hands wrapping around him.
"Mum and dad should be more caring to you, darling. Give us another chance. We will start all over again." Dad's detached voice was infused with a great depth of sincerity and apology.
They embraced in a circle and felt the warmth together. He burst out in tears for his ignorance, as he was moved by his parents' unbounded forgiveness. For now, he was determined to give himself a chance to start his life anew. There is no turning back. He firmly decided to break through his addiction by going into rehab, for the sake of his family. After all, family was all that mattered in the end.
(683 words)
P/s Feel free to comment on my essay. I'd welcome any constructive suggestions/ criticisms on the essay.
For a new edited version with more idioms, proverbs and similes, please go to
http://2ndalexander.blogspot.my/2017/02/story-edited.html
He sighed and small white vortexes blew out from his mouth. He crouched over the bus stop which could shelter him from the terrible snow. Before he could control his mind, he inserted his hands into his thick outer coat. He took out a packet of capsules as the surge of desire ran through his sinew. He tore the aluminIum foil but suddenly, his eyes popped open and his hands instinctively tossed it in front to a heap of snow.
He regretted how this could be happening to him. He had never imagined this could be the consequences. Everything would have been different if he had listened to his parents' advice and had been aware of his peers.
"Can you stop controlling my life? It's not my life anymore! You're such a control freak!" he shouted at the top of his voice at his mother.
"How dare you use that tone on me, young man", her voice was harshly clipped, "Go to your room!"
It was then with a bang he swung the door shut behind. He had a strong aversion to her labeling him 'young man' like a 10-year-old kid and God, he was 18 years old!
He doubted if it was the reason to all these. He remembered he could not bear cramming for approaching examinations. He could not stand the way his parents exerted pressure on him in such a way that he felt so miserable, stressed and anguished. He did not want a life like that. He felt compelled to sacrifice his entertainment, his dream of being a professional artistic pianist, his chance of catching the trade winds in his sail, and something much more than these, the opportunity of finding a more significant meaning in life. He thought it could have been much more different than a tedious life of being a rag doll, insanely manipulated by a control freak.
Plunging himself into a drug-induced stupor, he realised that he could find his relief through drugs. Nothing at all to suggest that he could be so addicted to drugs like any other of his friends. In wild fanatic, they danced in order to find a release; away from a realistic world into a sheer fantasy. The ecstasy ran amok in a quick tempo with the unfamiliar hot music blaring out from the hidden stereo.
The background changed to the fiendishly icy bus stop. Tears which welled up in his eyes streamed down his unkempt face. His hands simply lingered upon his eyes and deep in his heart, he braced for the familiar overwhelmed feelings. He chided himself for blubbering like a big baby.
A thicker cloth draped across his shoulders down to his back out of the blue. Glancing upward, he was taken aback by the silhouetted figures looming before him. As the tears blurred his sight, he wiped them away and scrutinised each of them carefully.
"Mum? dad?"
His mother languidly leaned across him and in a swift movement, she got him in her hug before her stream of apologies burst out. She broke down with her hands wrapping around him.
"Mum and dad should be more caring to you, darling. Give us another chance. We will start all over again." Dad's detached voice was infused with a great depth of sincerity and apology.
They embraced in a circle and felt the warmth together. He burst out in tears for his ignorance, as he was moved by his parents' unbounded forgiveness. For now, he was determined to give himself a chance to start his life anew. There is no turning back. He firmly decided to break through his addiction by going into rehab, for the sake of his family. After all, family was all that mattered in the end.
(683 words)
P/s Feel free to comment on my essay. I'd welcome any constructive suggestions/ criticisms on the essay.
For a new edited version with more idioms, proverbs and similes, please go to
http://2ndalexander.blogspot.my/2017/02/story-edited.html
Sunday, August 25, 2013
school
The golden words emblazoned on the wall of the building read: 'S.M.K. Chung Hua Miri'. Memories that carved into my mind reminded me of the secondary school life I have been through for the 6 years of my life.There would be thousands of pages to be crammed with my hoarded feelings and reminiscence towards my school. My school means more than just nurturing me to become an educated person, it has been a friend accompanying my teenage life.
Squinting through my school from a bird's-eye view now, once again I am awestruck by the majesty of our school's large green field. Little did I know it is a place where talented athletes realise their inner potential and strength. My friends and I were used to running on the tracks, shifting all our internal gears into full blast such that at the end, we smiled wearily yet satisfyingly, despite the sheen of sweat and dirty trousers caked with dirt and pebbles.
Then, I trot my way to the classrooms where some scholarly looking people chatter and laugh at the top of their voices. The scene has accentuated a familiar academic atmosphere. It reminded me of the last year of my secondary school life. My classroom had always been highly charged especially when big examination approached. Besides waging a war with weariness and drowsiness, my fellow friends had to strain all their efforts on tonnes of books. My friends and I would always talk ourselves through our dreams and the reasons we put our best foot forward in the pursuit of our dreams. We vouched unanimously that we would be on guard with every difficulty that might wall up against us. My school was once a place where dreams began their journey after we had thrown off the bowlines and sailed away from the safe harbours. The so-called 'Chung Hua spirit' gave us powerful strength and persistent determination to catch the trade winds in our sails, to explore, to dream and to discover.
Canteen is, and always will be the hotspot to every student, particularly to skive the boring lessons. The wondrous time with my friends flashed through my head, took me aback by the silly things we had done. Once in a lifetime did we sow the oats and conjure crazy stuff out of our frenetic passion. Besides joking around and laughing serious matters off, we would bury our heads on their offered shoulders, snug as a bug in a rug, in order to chase the vehement emotions and blues away.
The first time I sang my school anthem, God, it was a really funny song. Singing it several times would actually bore you. However, the school anthem may conjure up the memories and the spirit of a Chung Hua student. It would be a great difference singing at the time you are in school and by the time you are not in school anymore. I think the greatest difference is the feeling because it may well up tears in your glassy eyes and whirl emotions like vortexes in your belly.
Time passed, people change; yet, memories remained.
Probing deeper into my secondary school life, I am struck by the pang of stupefaction and realisation that I spared most of the time on my study. It would be stupid to always be in the class from the absolute day one until my graduation. What if I tried once in a lifetime bunking off exhaustively boring classes? What if I sneak out of class to eye the back of my school hall where the popular fallacy of ghost stories spread amongst the students? What if I have been the school prefect and experienced the new things I have never been before?
The what-if session will not change the past and the fact that I had been graduated.
Along the way out of my school, I could not help glancing back at the building of whitewashed wall before I mouthed a silent 'goodbye' to my school.
Squinting through my school from a bird's-eye view now, once again I am awestruck by the majesty of our school's large green field. Little did I know it is a place where talented athletes realise their inner potential and strength. My friends and I were used to running on the tracks, shifting all our internal gears into full blast such that at the end, we smiled wearily yet satisfyingly, despite the sheen of sweat and dirty trousers caked with dirt and pebbles.
Then, I trot my way to the classrooms where some scholarly looking people chatter and laugh at the top of their voices. The scene has accentuated a familiar academic atmosphere. It reminded me of the last year of my secondary school life. My classroom had always been highly charged especially when big examination approached. Besides waging a war with weariness and drowsiness, my fellow friends had to strain all their efforts on tonnes of books. My friends and I would always talk ourselves through our dreams and the reasons we put our best foot forward in the pursuit of our dreams. We vouched unanimously that we would be on guard with every difficulty that might wall up against us. My school was once a place where dreams began their journey after we had thrown off the bowlines and sailed away from the safe harbours. The so-called 'Chung Hua spirit' gave us powerful strength and persistent determination to catch the trade winds in our sails, to explore, to dream and to discover.
Canteen is, and always will be the hotspot to every student, particularly to skive the boring lessons. The wondrous time with my friends flashed through my head, took me aback by the silly things we had done. Once in a lifetime did we sow the oats and conjure crazy stuff out of our frenetic passion. Besides joking around and laughing serious matters off, we would bury our heads on their offered shoulders, snug as a bug in a rug, in order to chase the vehement emotions and blues away.
The first time I sang my school anthem, God, it was a really funny song. Singing it several times would actually bore you. However, the school anthem may conjure up the memories and the spirit of a Chung Hua student. It would be a great difference singing at the time you are in school and by the time you are not in school anymore. I think the greatest difference is the feeling because it may well up tears in your glassy eyes and whirl emotions like vortexes in your belly.
Time passed, people change; yet, memories remained.
Probing deeper into my secondary school life, I am struck by the pang of stupefaction and realisation that I spared most of the time on my study. It would be stupid to always be in the class from the absolute day one until my graduation. What if I tried once in a lifetime bunking off exhaustively boring classes? What if I sneak out of class to eye the back of my school hall where the popular fallacy of ghost stories spread amongst the students? What if I have been the school prefect and experienced the new things I have never been before?
The what-if session will not change the past and the fact that I had been graduated.
Along the way out of my school, I could not help glancing back at the building of whitewashed wall before I mouthed a silent 'goodbye' to my school.
Saturday, August 3, 2013
Write a story which contains the following words, 'despite her pleas, they simply refused to release her'.
They lay, the stuff contracted due to the heat that had spiked the temperature to range between forty and fifty degree Celsius and it willed to ratchet up continuously. Her eyes rimmed red, and she had never felt more than swiping the waterfall of sweat trailing down her nape in long streams.
The bang intimidating words were like a geriatric tape recorder, old and very broken, hitting her nerves ferociously and the jitters inside her belly seemed no attempt of calming. She was panting like an old woman, prior to enlightening any sensible idea to take herself off the entanglement of the rope around her wrists and ankles.
She kneed the wooden table which could have crumpled at any time, and as the leg angled and ran down their way to earth, then with a roll of chink and clink, the glass bottle on the table displaced and jumped off, reaching the forest ground, before a clash breaking it into shreds and shards. Besides fighting off the dregs of anxiety that crawled up her nerves like an irritating beetle, she endured the pain of the glass splinters digging into her flesh. Her trembling fingers traced down for a larger piece of any sharp splinters before she could start to cut off the ropes.
The image carved into her mind from the bolt of blue. Her lover she had once taken all in, all including the words he had said she believed that they were true. She had never realised that herself could fall so deep into someone, zeroing in on him implicitly with her very lost heart. Her trust told her that he would reciprocate in an equal fervour by the time she hooked up with him. She liked the way herself loved and being loved. The true sensation flooded through her as if she had drowned in his coddling and indulging fondness.
Her heart sank and gave way to searing ache and pain to tear her senses when she remembered the time when he started to become a drug addict. He materialised on hefty money and it was like an endless yen soared in him to use the tremendous amount of money to be dealt with a long-lasting supply of drugs. Regret, she thought, her bankrolling of money that had once given to him failed to top up his deep pit of the strong desire of abusing drugs.
The courage speared through the itch of annoyance after the long period of her 'money-giving charity'. She stood up on him with her very firm decision by making it crystal clear that her attempt at breaking their relationship, ending it at her will.Refusing to give any money to him, she insisted on her leaving.
He got so worked up and without any wit nor sense, a blow whooshed through expelled air inflicted on the back of her head before she flopped back. As her consciousness faltered and clouds of darkness reigned over her mind, she heard him bellowing and a commotion of unfamiliar voices.
By the time her mind floated back through a struggling battle of giddiness, she gauged the area with alerted instinct and atavistic horror striking through her. Apart from the whining of insects and the hooting sound of an owl, everything seemed to be so tranquil. As her hands struggled in a pious hope of getting herself released from the ropes tangled around her limbs, her eyes gaped to take in whatever came to her sight. 'A camp in a forest', she thought of her first view when the faint moonlight slanted through the chinks of overhead brushes and cast diamonds on her crown of hair.
"We'd have to burn this place before the police get to us," one of the unacquainted voice broke the brooding silence.
"How about that bimbo, Peter?" Peter, she thought, the name ached in her mind that reminded her of betrayal and hatred.
"Let her burn in hell. She's just so much a burden to me. She's nothing, she got nothing, nothing any good for us."
The tears brimmed in her eyes rolled down along her fair cheeks in thin streams. She could not believe he could be so ruthless and cruel in such a way that he neither consider nor reminisce the joyous moments together with her. She felt stupid by the earliest thought of begging him. She knew very well of the fact that despite her pleas, they simply refused to release her.
"Let's go before the police catch up with us. All the evidence would soon be charred and devastated." The statement was followed by a wicked chortle and she glared at them. She watched, a click of the lighter steadily tossed onto a pool of flammable liquid.
Soon after she broke free from the ropes, she geared out all her effort to charge her way down to a safe place but sadly, she doubted the probability of her success when she was in a circumstance whereby she was walled up by burning bushfire. The fire climbed the way up to the trees that seemed to be like black skeletons, and it spewed out menacing smoke blurring her way. The fire got frisky and intended to chow down everything on earth.
She ran through the orange-red background and the missiles of pinecone hurled by the blasting wind of a blowup. The fire danced deadly as she ran over a charred log before tipping onto the ground. The heat washed through her sinew and carried smoke pushing into her lungs to have a hard, breathless labour for air. She felt so hopeless by the thought that her life would soon be after. She plopped down in a limp heap across the land.
She lay and obliged to await the instruction of the cruel fate and death to take her away.
Suddenly, a silhouette in a pickup to her direction rushed through the blasting red flames. Seeing the ray of hope, she was glad that the recruits and crew were on their way to put out the fire. She heard the crackling sound radioed from the base, " Is she safe?"
"Yes, sir" one of the recruits answered.
"It's alright. We'd found you." She felt lifted by two strong arms before she closed her eyes in relief.
The bang intimidating words were like a geriatric tape recorder, old and very broken, hitting her nerves ferociously and the jitters inside her belly seemed no attempt of calming. She was panting like an old woman, prior to enlightening any sensible idea to take herself off the entanglement of the rope around her wrists and ankles.
She kneed the wooden table which could have crumpled at any time, and as the leg angled and ran down their way to earth, then with a roll of chink and clink, the glass bottle on the table displaced and jumped off, reaching the forest ground, before a clash breaking it into shreds and shards. Besides fighting off the dregs of anxiety that crawled up her nerves like an irritating beetle, she endured the pain of the glass splinters digging into her flesh. Her trembling fingers traced down for a larger piece of any sharp splinters before she could start to cut off the ropes.
The image carved into her mind from the bolt of blue. Her lover she had once taken all in, all including the words he had said she believed that they were true. She had never realised that herself could fall so deep into someone, zeroing in on him implicitly with her very lost heart. Her trust told her that he would reciprocate in an equal fervour by the time she hooked up with him. She liked the way herself loved and being loved. The true sensation flooded through her as if she had drowned in his coddling and indulging fondness.
Her heart sank and gave way to searing ache and pain to tear her senses when she remembered the time when he started to become a drug addict. He materialised on hefty money and it was like an endless yen soared in him to use the tremendous amount of money to be dealt with a long-lasting supply of drugs. Regret, she thought, her bankrolling of money that had once given to him failed to top up his deep pit of the strong desire of abusing drugs.
The courage speared through the itch of annoyance after the long period of her 'money-giving charity'. She stood up on him with her very firm decision by making it crystal clear that her attempt at breaking their relationship, ending it at her will.Refusing to give any money to him, she insisted on her leaving.
He got so worked up and without any wit nor sense, a blow whooshed through expelled air inflicted on the back of her head before she flopped back. As her consciousness faltered and clouds of darkness reigned over her mind, she heard him bellowing and a commotion of unfamiliar voices.
By the time her mind floated back through a struggling battle of giddiness, she gauged the area with alerted instinct and atavistic horror striking through her. Apart from the whining of insects and the hooting sound of an owl, everything seemed to be so tranquil. As her hands struggled in a pious hope of getting herself released from the ropes tangled around her limbs, her eyes gaped to take in whatever came to her sight. 'A camp in a forest', she thought of her first view when the faint moonlight slanted through the chinks of overhead brushes and cast diamonds on her crown of hair.
"We'd have to burn this place before the police get to us," one of the unacquainted voice broke the brooding silence.
"How about that bimbo, Peter?" Peter, she thought, the name ached in her mind that reminded her of betrayal and hatred.
"Let her burn in hell. She's just so much a burden to me. She's nothing, she got nothing, nothing any good for us."
The tears brimmed in her eyes rolled down along her fair cheeks in thin streams. She could not believe he could be so ruthless and cruel in such a way that he neither consider nor reminisce the joyous moments together with her. She felt stupid by the earliest thought of begging him. She knew very well of the fact that despite her pleas, they simply refused to release her.
"Let's go before the police catch up with us. All the evidence would soon be charred and devastated." The statement was followed by a wicked chortle and she glared at them. She watched, a click of the lighter steadily tossed onto a pool of flammable liquid.
Soon after she broke free from the ropes, she geared out all her effort to charge her way down to a safe place but sadly, she doubted the probability of her success when she was in a circumstance whereby she was walled up by burning bushfire. The fire climbed the way up to the trees that seemed to be like black skeletons, and it spewed out menacing smoke blurring her way. The fire got frisky and intended to chow down everything on earth.
She ran through the orange-red background and the missiles of pinecone hurled by the blasting wind of a blowup. The fire danced deadly as she ran over a charred log before tipping onto the ground. The heat washed through her sinew and carried smoke pushing into her lungs to have a hard, breathless labour for air. She felt so hopeless by the thought that her life would soon be after. She plopped down in a limp heap across the land.
She lay and obliged to await the instruction of the cruel fate and death to take her away.
Suddenly, a silhouette in a pickup to her direction rushed through the blasting red flames. Seeing the ray of hope, she was glad that the recruits and crew were on their way to put out the fire. She heard the crackling sound radioed from the base, " Is she safe?"
"Yes, sir" one of the recruits answered.
"It's alright. We'd found you." She felt lifted by two strong arms before she closed her eyes in relief.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
The Holy Bible
After reading the book in hand, I simply flipped it back to its cover. The title was emblazoned on the cover:
The Holy Bible
The Holy Bible is, in any words, I can find from my head, indecipherably amazing. How could I deny the impact it has had on me? It’s hardly any of a good book. The reason for setting it apart from other books ever written is that it is God’s words.
Mum has ever told me that God’s words are like Global Positioning System (GPS) as if it gives us the directions of the path we tend to go. My mum always says that:
“When you read the Bible, it speaks. It speaks, God speaks.”
It is not a philosophical scripture but many philosophers have been divinely inspired by myriads of its philosophy. It is not a historical book but it details historical events, and its truthfulness and accuracy are subject to verification one after another. It is not a literature masterpiece but the intricate details of the arts have never ceased to awe people around the world. It is not sold in common bookstores but it is today the most widely published book in the world.
The most important main characters will be God Himself, Jesus Christ, and everybody in this world. It is a living book which reveals authority and power. God, the author, makes promises and prophecies, and He will definitely fulfill them.
I guess the Holy Bible has nothing more than living my life with God Himself. As I have known His words are true, I learn to accept the fact that challenges and predicaments are His ways of training me to be braver and stronger. After all, I take every single day as God’s gift and thank Him from my deepest core.
Through this book, I know in better ways of living every day with joy and peace. When stark bleak circumstances overwhelmed my mind, God’s words have never failed to rear upon me, to calm the undulated twists and turns. When I was distressed, I could not help narrowing my sight on the empty, gruesome world. Little did I know the greatest wisdom of the world and life is crammed compactly in the Holy Bible. If they were not from the Bible, then where would I get the answers from? The questions were once esoteric ones.
Where do we come from? What are we doing here? What is the meaning of life and universe?
"Now we see things imperfectly as in a poor mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God knows me now." (1 Corinthians 13:12)
Then, I closed my weary eyes, my ears listened yet it was quiet and tranquil as God’s words had drowned them all.
- I won consolation prize in DKLS Linguistic Ambassador Awards Essay Writing Competition, organised by BCCC and Cambridge University.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
interview
When i feel so weary, i will listen to a song i have heard for umpteenth times, 'we are the reason'. Although the times when i told myself i had to be strong and brave, i still couldn't hold back my tears. They trickled down my face. I broke down.
Now in the music, i give way to the outrageous upheaval. The same as before i can't hold back my tears and let them stream along my cheeks. When i feel myself drained of energy, i will always take spiritual meditation, listen to holy hymns to lead me out of weariness.
Many times i have experienced God's love and boundless grace.
Our english class teacher, puan soh told us that we would meet a lot of interviews after SPM, not just because of crusade for achieving a scholarship, but also obtaining a job and so on. All of these require a must of an interview. However, i have chatted with a friend that an interview is actually a very difficult thing for me. It is probably due to my introverted personality, weak communication skills, a very low self-esteem and dented confidence.
Once in a year i need to have an oral test. That's always the reason i get haunted and get so busy with preparation. It is because i think that i'm not a speaker who can express a topic impressively and eloquently in the eyes of thousand audience. Likewise, i would have to prepare well underway for weeks or maybe months to present myself in a short 3 to 5 minutes of interview.
An interview is very important as people can judge you from the perspective of your appearance, attitude and a list of academic results and co-curriculum awards. The utmost highlighted matter would be how you manage to promote yourself confidently to the interviewers so that the company can use you in the future. All in a short while they eye through your statement and appearance and judge about you. For years knowing myself, i know in depth that i'm a very timid person in my own world. On the spur of the moment, a withering question will spring out : how i get to present myself confidently in front of a line of strangers?
Interview is, a door to wrench open for a brighter new scene, a key to open the locked treasure chest. How am i going to open it without the key of confidence?
I know i have relied on God since i was young. I will always sit on the bed saying prayers so that He will help me whenever i meet obstacles and challenges. He is my harbour to keep me away from stormy waters and thunders. However, i have to be strong and brave enough to protect myself by using... sole confidence.And God's guidance too.
I would like to listen to 'we are the reason' again. It's a nice song as it gives me strength and hope whenever i'm down and distressed. None of the worlds could i describe God's love to me. I like this song, not because of the rhythm or music, but the lyrics, especially the snippet says :
To a world that have lost
He gave all He could give
Monday, May 27, 2013
The ways to know more about myself
Sitting in front of the computer, i scroll down the page aimlessly while my memories flash back to the days when i'm still in the life game.
i was thinking who i am when God so love me. He removes all the burden in me and calm the stormy waters. i have been humble or maybe depressed to have His mercy to wash off my sins.
i have win out all the troubles to make myself an obedient bookworm in others' point of view. Nonetheless, i feel discontented when people judge me a very obedient baby. I live in this world in a way that i care so much about how people look at and judge about me. And needless to say, i have lost the real me. I feel no aim of living but somehow, i can still be able to hold His hand whenever i fall.
People think i'm a very bright student with a lot of possibilities headed in front of me. Although my academic results tend to awe others but i feel no pride about it. I'm doing these because i feel i'm responsible to. This is actually not what i want; however, i don't know exactly what i want.
Basically and apparently i know nothing about myself. When people bring on a question about what i will be in the future, i will always respond it with a shrug. I have no idea about it. People judge a person by his or her personalities and consider if they suit a certain career's criteria. The point is i don't know what my real personalities are. I'm even confused about if i should involve in arts or sciences.
ASEAN scholarship is way ahead of me. It's approaching me nearer and closer. I heard from others that it will be a very tough test. I don't know. Every exams are just a burden for me. I was so shocked when i received the news that it will only take 30 minutes for a 350 words essay. That's damn hard for me. I was wondering how singapore students pull themselves through these frigging exams.
As the saying goes, ' the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence', i live in a society which people compare one another within a wide range of rival groups. On the top of it, i'm stupidly involve in this everlasting rival. I always think that i should utilise all my abilities and strain all my efforts to be the best of the best. However the results disappoint me so much that it affects my emotional health now and then.
Even though i have gained my parents' approval for a long distance away to kuching in order to have the test, but i think somehow, this particular ASEAN scholarship selective test involves luck. I doubt the probability of getting the access for the further interview successfully. Many things are out of our reach and realm of control.
i was thinking who i am when God so love me. He removes all the burden in me and calm the stormy waters. i have been humble or maybe depressed to have His mercy to wash off my sins.
i have win out all the troubles to make myself an obedient bookworm in others' point of view. Nonetheless, i feel discontented when people judge me a very obedient baby. I live in this world in a way that i care so much about how people look at and judge about me. And needless to say, i have lost the real me. I feel no aim of living but somehow, i can still be able to hold His hand whenever i fall.
People think i'm a very bright student with a lot of possibilities headed in front of me. Although my academic results tend to awe others but i feel no pride about it. I'm doing these because i feel i'm responsible to. This is actually not what i want; however, i don't know exactly what i want.
Basically and apparently i know nothing about myself. When people bring on a question about what i will be in the future, i will always respond it with a shrug. I have no idea about it. People judge a person by his or her personalities and consider if they suit a certain career's criteria. The point is i don't know what my real personalities are. I'm even confused about if i should involve in arts or sciences.
ASEAN scholarship is way ahead of me. It's approaching me nearer and closer. I heard from others that it will be a very tough test. I don't know. Every exams are just a burden for me. I was so shocked when i received the news that it will only take 30 minutes for a 350 words essay. That's damn hard for me. I was wondering how singapore students pull themselves through these frigging exams.
As the saying goes, ' the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence', i live in a society which people compare one another within a wide range of rival groups. On the top of it, i'm stupidly involve in this everlasting rival. I always think that i should utilise all my abilities and strain all my efforts to be the best of the best. However the results disappoint me so much that it affects my emotional health now and then.
Even though i have gained my parents' approval for a long distance away to kuching in order to have the test, but i think somehow, this particular ASEAN scholarship selective test involves luck. I doubt the probability of getting the access for the further interview successfully. Many things are out of our reach and realm of control.
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