Vigilante

I've seen it in my dreams, far too many times than I could count; it is all too familiar to me now.

     Running through a dark alley way, turning left corners and rights. I was chasing after someone...something. Then I stopped to the sudden bang of a gunshot, followed by a woman's scream. I turned to the direction where I heard those two things and there, I came upon a woman, weeping over her bleeding husband...

"It's okay...dear...everything...is...okay...."

"Please...no...don't leave me...darling, no!"

    I approached them. The woman saw me and pleaded, "Stay away...don't hurt us, please..." I answered, "No, it's okay. I'm not here to hurt you. Tell me, what happened?" She told me, "They shot him...and took something important..." I asked to clarify, "What is it?" She replied, "A briefcase"

     Suddenly, as if the scene had changed instantaneously, I found myself running again. This time, I knew what I was searching for: a briefcase. Although I knew not what it was exactly, I knew it was important. Before long, I came across a parking lot and there I found two men in suit and tie, with the briefcase, getting into their car. So, I ran after them. One of them noticed me, took out his pistol and...

BANG!

             There was a blackout. Immediately, I jumped out of bed out of sudden shock. However, this was no new thing. These dreams would come quite frequently--the same dream, over and over again. It was often vague. Blur. Unclear...

Void of detail.   

*beep* *beep* *beep*

           I looked at my alarm clock at my bedside. 6:30 am. It was a dull Monday morning, and I had to get out of bed and get ready for school. Oh! Pardon me. Where are my manners? My name is Matt Damien and I'm 17 summers of age...if we even have summer, of course. Haha. It's mostly dull here, in Tetraville, especially with the increasing crime rates and such; it's not just on Mondays. We live in a time and place where evil lurks at almost every corner at any time. You have to be careful here, especially in the heart of the city, because the most crime happens where the money can be found. That's right. The central banks, jewellery stores, gold exchange stores, shopping centres, and etcetera; they are all here. In these parts of Tetraville, it is a busy shopping haven, but also an ideal spot for all sorts of crime.

                  There have been cases of theft, shoplifting, bank robberies, murders and assassinations. God knows what else could be happening that we don't already know. But don't worry, the police have got it covered...sort of. There is something I forgot to mention. Let's just say, I make the police's job easier for them.  Without further ado, I quickly got out of bed, brushed my teeth, took a shower, got into my school uniform, made and ate my breakfast. Then, I rushed out of my apartment, and sprinted to school. Tetra High is no less than just 5 blocks away, which was a 15 minute walk from my apartment, or 7 minutes if I sprinted.

             I reached school just in time. I looked down at my wristwatch. 7:10 am. Assembly begins at 7:20 am. I dropped my bag in class and I hurried out. As I was heading down the hallway to the school field, I bumped into two of my classmates: Bob and Harry.

 "Hey man, watch where you're going!"

 "Dude, are you alright?"

 "Sorry, guys. Yeah I'm fine"

I quickly hurried along but Harry caught me by the arm. "Wait"

 "What is it, Harry?"

"What is it? What is- oh come on, Matt. Bob you tell him"

"What!? Why me?"

"Just. Tell him."

          Bob took a step forward. "Dude, where were you? You can't just keep disappearing from time to time like that." Harry spoke up, "Yeah. Ever since a few months ago, you'd be absent from class once in a while." Bob continued, "Yeah, and now, it's getting more frequent!" "Guys, I'll talk to you later. I'm going to go assemble at the school field. I suggest you two do the same."

_____________________________________________________________________

            
    School days are quite the usual. Especially on Mondays like this one. Assemble at the field, sing the school anthem, pledge the creeds, hear the announcements and finally, the Prinicpal's speech. Oh boy, the Principal's speech. He would just drag on and on; but I mean, hey, these are the usual formalities. Which school doesn't have them? This time however, it was a little different.

            His speech went along the lines of "vigilantism is against the law because when the individual takes the law into his own hands, he executes justice that can only be done by the authorities. If you're not even a cop, don't even think of trying to play the hero!"

Pfft, please. Like the police could do it. I mean, not to say they aren't good. Professional? Maybe. But slow.

I'm just saying: even with the police, crime is still rampant. Anyway, this speech was brought up due to the rumours about a vigilante roaming around Tetraville during the night. Yes, you guessed it. It is yours truly.

But I'm not going to tell Bob, Harry, or anyone else...

___________________________________________________________________

You must be wondering, how do I survive on my own in this harsh world? I'll just keep my backstory simple here:

My mother died, and my father left me. The only things I have ever gotten from him were envelopes of stacks of money with a note saying "Take care of yourself. -Dad" in the mail every once a month.

           Gee, Dad. Great to know you still "care". Anyway, I use that money for just about everything. From living expenses and basic needs to certain wants. After being a little fed up with the "normal" life of a high school student, I decided to take up crime fighting as a hobby.

         I took martial arts classes, bought myself a baton, designed a dark costume for myself, and I did some research by reading all the news reports and criminal records on the Tetraville Police Force's crime database. Yes, I can hack. Having lived by myself for all these years made me into a strong, independent, person.

            I couldn't care less about school. I try to balance it but as I'd say, it tends to get boring. I was desperate for some adventure. So I go out from time to time, at night. Why night? Because crime happens more at night than in broad daylight.

The typical night would go something like this:

I suit up, mask on, hood over my head, gloves on my hands, baton in my belt's holster, and I would be out of my apartment by 10:00 pm. Then, I roam around Tetravile. First, around the residential areas, the alleys, the nearby stores. Sometimes, I'd come across things like petty thieves and robbers, or slum dogs high on drugs beating up innocent passers-by in the alleys, or some gangsters extorting money. Same old, same old. Easy. Confront them. Push them aside, give them a few hits, knock them out. Then I discreetly return whatever is stolen and whip out my phone to call the police, inform them, and flee the scene.

           After that, I'd run into the heart of the city--easy, since it's not far from where I stay-- and I go ahead and make my patrol. There was once a time I stopped a bank robbery, and prevented a few murder cases. By the way, just because it is late at night, it doesn't mean the city square won't be any less busy than it is at day. The thing is, at first, I didn't think I'd be so into crime fighting. But now, I feel like I was made for this!

It feels prophetic.

As for that recurring dream, however, it seems like that one's definitely bound to happen.

______________________________________________________________________________

BANG!

*beep* *beep* *beep* *be-*

     I shut my alarm clock, and looked at it. 6:30am. Last night wasn't much, though. It was actually peaceful for once. I encountered one or two hooligans, but that was all. I went freerunning around town and then came back to my apartment at 1:15am, slightly earlier than my usual 2:00am return.

It's Tuesday morning. School's as usual. I jumped out of bed, did my morning routine, got out and headed straight to school.

______________________________________________________________________________

    

     When I came back from school today, I quickly took a shower, ate my lunch, and then turned my laptop on.

             There was all the talk going on in school regarding a certain Professor Emerest today. Something about a large scale project

he's been working on. If I'm not mistaken, he is pretty well-known in the software and systems engineering fields. It just so happens that I don't really pay much attention to certain public figures, what more scientists? So I went ahead and researched the news sites: it seems that there will be a conference held today at Tetraville City Hall, in conjunction with Science Week, and he's going to be there.

This will be interesting.

______________________________________________________________________________

            I suited up and got out of the house by 8:00pm. Usually, I'd sprint all around the place but this time, I was cycling there. When I arrived there, it was 8:10pm. I parked my bike at the back of the hall and then proceeded in through the back door. I hid myself neatly backstage to see what they were all talking about, or presenting. I managed to take a peek at the attendees present there. Some were journalists, news reporters, and I saw some other well-known scientists too. I kept on looking around and before I knew it, it was Professor Emerest's turn to present his project. He showed a slideshow and presented the large scale project he was working on: a high-integrity network systems that connects and secures all servers in Tetraville for the secure flow and access of data and information. Most of the attendees posed him questions, of which one of them went, "How are you so sure it won't be easily hacked and the data misused?" I smirked a little. "Good question, but I can't really reveal much of it as of the moment, as it is currently still under development," the Professor replied. "All will be known in it's due time."

                         

               He concluded his presentation, removed the thumbdrive connected to his laptop, and placed it in a briefcase. Inside were another thumbdrive, and some documents. Then he closed it, and left the stage. Wait a second, I thought, that's the briefcase! I looked around and I spotted, among the attendees, two suspicious men in suit and tie. One of them held a detonator, and pressed it. BOOM! Everyone became shocked. It seemed that somebody's car that was parked just outside the hall had just exploded-- the Professor's! The two men immediately moved toward the Professor. Apparently, Professor Emerest's wife, Lady Sophia was there. He took her by the hand and they both rushed outside. "Come on, Sophia, we have to go. They're coming for us!"

Was this the fulfilment of the dream?

I ran outside looking for them, clueless of where they went. I then ran to the back of the hall. They were not there either. Then I noticed the two men going into one of the alleys. So I took my bike and chased after them. The alleys were dark and dimly lit. I turned left corners and rights, but to no avail. Suddenly, I heard a gunshot and a woman's scream. Bingo! I turned left again, went straight and then I stopped and parked the bike there. I got off it and approached them.

"It's okay...dear...everything...is...okay...."

"Please...no...don't leave me...darling, no!"

              The Professor was bleeding. Lady Sophia, full of tears, looked up to see me standing there "Stay away...don't hurt us, please..." I answered, "No, it's okay. I'm not here to hurt you. Tell me, what happened?"

"They shot him...and took-"

"The briefcase?"

"Yes"

             "I'll go find them. You stay here and call the ambulance and the police." I quickly cycled out of the alleys and into an area which seemed like a parking lot. I spotted the two men, with the briefcase, just about to get into their car. One of them spotted me and tried to shoot me. His shots didn't hit me but trying to dodge them made me fell off my bike. They sped out of the parking lot and drove off. I picked up my bike and pursued them from a distance. Lucky for me, they didn't seem to bother about me at all. The car then stopped at an abandoned building, and the two men got out of the car and entered through the front door. I called the police. "Tetraville Police Force. What's your situation?" "Hey," I said, "This is urgent. I found the men who stole Professor Emerest's briefcase and attempted his murder. I'm leaving the call on so you could trace my location. Be here where I am ASAP!"

"Location is locked on your call. Dispatch team is on their way."

            I sneaked into the building by the back door and saw what looked like a meeting of Mafia, about 10 of them. There, on the table they were at, was the briefcase. Suddenly a man called from behind me, "Hey! What are you doing here?" I quickly turned around and knocked him out cold with my baton.  "What was that?" I quickly hid myself. "Did you hear anything?", one mafia member asked. The other replied, "I'm not so sure" "Mr.V, did you hear anything?" Mr. V then spoke, "I think we may have been compromised, men. Search the area!"

       Strange. Mr. V's voice sounded awfully familiar. I didn't want to wait any longer. I proceeded to reveal myself. I took them head on, one by one. Some took their guns out and started firing at me. I remembered my training well. I dodged the bullets, rolled and countered them, disabling some of them. Then I saw one of the mafia with a mask take the briefcase and was about to leave. That must be Mr. V! I quickly threw my baton at him. It hit his head and his mask fell off.

Wait, is that...my...

"Dad?"

           It made sense now. V for Victor Damien. My father. He looked at me, puzzled. Everyone else stopped. I took off my mask, and let down my hood. I looked at him straight in the eye. "Matt. Son, it's been a long ti-" "No, don't call me that! Just tell me, why? After all this time you left me, and this is what you do?"

BOOM! The doors flung open and we were surrounded by armed police.

"Freeze!"

Mature?

Define maturity.

In what aspects are we suppose to look at in order to define what makes a person "mature"? By what standard(s)? In other words, what does it really mean to be mature?

Is it by the way we speak, or what we speak of? Is it by our beliefs, or our topics of interest? Is it in the way we conduct ourselves? Is it found in a person's wisdom, or intellect? Is it found in the strong bonds of an interpersonal relationship, or is it defined by the separation due to differences in cultural upbringing?

Nevertheless, whatever the matter, I believe that despite our differences and our distances, we should not merely take things at the surface of what we see on a person on the outside but rather, that we should grow closer to people and understand what really is on the inside.


  To that person who gave me their opinion on my immaturity, though indirectly, I thank you for it. I agree and understand that in some (or many) ways I am immature. I'm merely a child, but growing. Though we may be of the same age, distance and culture has brought us our differences and a barrier between us which has caused us to look at each other on the mere surface; we have definitely much more to catch up on, and plenty of room to grow in our mutual understanding of each other in our relationship.

    The truth is, though I love you, I do not know you very well, what more to be close to you; and you I. You saw what was on my surface, and I saw what was on yours (but I won't mention it, for your sake). It is true what you said: I am immature. Not to brag though, but if you knew me better you would see that I can be mature in some ways, and what more

I have yet to understand you too.
(I am sorry)

The Promise

She killed herself.

 The world was caving in on her; her weights too heavy to hold. Her mother, helpless. Her father, a drunkard, abusive. She has no friends...except for one. On the day Cassandra decided to take her life, she decided something that may change lives forever. She found her friend--her only friend-- told him what he needed to know, and made him promise her something...

"James, promise me that you will do this"

She took out a bracelet, and tied it around James’ wrist. "I will"

His promise to her? To help those who can't help themselves. To defend the innocent. To help those...who were like her. On top of all the weight of the world was the abuse she received from her father. She had only hoped that no one else has to go through what she went through. So there in her room, she took a step, a rope...

and fell.

Her body hung there ‘til the next day. News spread throughout the network of family and friends, and it soon reached James. Everybody was in shock.

Years had passed since the funeral. James takes a look back at the promise he made to her--the bracelet--and then proceeds to weep. He had been weeping for her day after day after day. "I could've done something...if only..."

   James was no better nor different than Cassandra. He was a loner too; no friends. His family--his father especially--hated him. He was despised, but he was also feared. James’ life had already been in turmoil, causing him a lot of pain and hurt. It turned him into an angry, frightening man. But he was also sensitive and the most hurt. How could he imagine a life without his best friend? He wanted to die. He, too, wanted to end himself. But no, not yet. He remembers the promise he made to her--or rather, the promise she made him make. It haunts him day and night, ever since she left. He receives visions and dreams of her, and nightmares that follow his nights. He just cannot sleep. There is no peace for him.

   Now, it wasn’t like James didn’t make any friends throughout this whole time. Throughout his life, after Cassandra’s death, he gained people he could trust: friends from church, a friend from his neighbourhood, and two of his cousins. They were the ones who helped him through with his depression and adversities, but little did they know that they (or at least some from this group of friends) will be a part of something significant. It wasn’t until a series of visions he had seen of Cassandra, who reminded him of the promise he made. It was now up to him to get started.
He formed a group chat on WhatsApp and adds these selected people in, his friends: Edward, Becky, Isaac and John.
      “Hello everyone, I’ve probably explained this to you before but allow me to do so again.
This group and the work we are about to do is a promise I made long ago to a dear friend of mine. The reason why you are here is to help me fulfill this promise, and to bring peace to our land,”  James tells them. They understood him already, given that they have heard this from him a couple of times...
“Alright”, said Edward, Isaac and Becky
“Great,” followed John. “What do we call ourselves?”

 “The Creed,” James replied.

The Creed. A pledge, a promise. One made to one dead to keep others from dying. This was their purpose.  “Everyone, let’s meet up and begin training! The sooner the better,” ordered James. 
 “Yes sir!”

It was not long until they began to go out into the night. With skills and proper tools equipped, they fought whatever crime they could find, and with that, saved lives.A promise made was a promise kept. At the start of The Creed, the promised was fulfilled, and Cassandra’s spirit didn’t need to cling to James anymore. 

 “Thank you, James. I can finally rest in peace now”

Future

   If actions speak louder than words, then would that make words utterly meaningless? Not unless they reflect the truth of the reality manifested in our actions…
I, so happen to be an eloquent speaker, but not so much an eloquent doer.
Therefore, does that make me a believable person? Trustworthy? A man of my wor—no, action?

I tend to talk a lot. Sometimes, I tend to talk a lot about myself: What’s good about me and things like that…but my behaviour, attitude, character, works, deeds…they all prove otherwise

            As much as I want to do more than I speak, I know, something is holding me back.
Fear. Everyone has a fear. A phobia; a chain that keeps us grounded. I'm not sure whether to call it motivation or demotivation but be it one or the latter, it is what drives us to pursue our goals.

 

                        Fear.


Mine? The future. I do not know what it beholds, or what have I to make of it. It is scary, frightening. The very reason why I am doing what I'm supposed to be doing is this: the future with its never-ending possibilities. Even if it's not for the sake of living, it will be the for the sake of my survival. Getting those grades in my SPM certificate will be, as my parents would say it, the stepping stone towards my future.
 
         But the way I perceive it, given my circumstances, character, ability, habits, nature; I am nothing more than mediocre: an average joe. I am so lazy. I always try, yes, I try, but only to do the bare minimum of things when I could've achieved so much more, if only I didn't chain myself up in this reluctancy.....

        They say each examination is a battle; SPM, the final war of secondary school. But I've been so used to this system that it no longer becomes a war to fight, but more like a chore to carry out. It feels meaningless! Exam after exam after exam. Tedious! Repetitive...or maybe it's just me. If only I didn't put myself into these shackles of laziness in the first place. My parents were right.

Maybe,
I'm just a child.
Still, a child, fearing and cowering from

the future.

            It feels as if all I just want to do is sleep and be forgotten...

So what do I do? If the future is something worth fighting for, let this be war! I'll train by leaps and bounds. By God's grace, I'll muster up whatever I have left in me and push forward.
Though I don't feel alive, at least doing such things will keep me alive.
After all, life revolves around work.

And if you can't do everything, well, at least

                  do something.

Make that change; be free.

The Kid from the Big Apple (Movie Review)

IMDb Rating: 7.5/10
My rating: 8/10


     I must say, when I first watched this movie, it was love at first sight.

Plot (Spoiler alert!):

Sarah reluctantly moved to Malaysia to stay with a grandfather whom she had never met before as her mother had to visit China to resolve work-related problems. Initially, Sarah refused to adapt to her grandfather's traditional cultural practice, such as eating chicken feet for breakfast, and the local community and she thought that they were disgusting. Despite the best efforts of her grandfather to re-create a familiar environment for Sarah by recreating western dishes that Sarah is familiar with using local substitutes, Sarah only ate chips that she brought over from New York and refused to communicate with her grandfather.

Defeated, Sarah's grandfather turned to Ah Bao, a neighbour who claims to speak English, to translate his instructions in Chinese and Cantonese to Sarah. Annoyed but later amused at his poor command of English, Sarah starts to take an interest in the surrounding neighbourhood. She also reveals that she can actually understand and speak Chinese, much to her grandfather's relief. Slowly, she starts interacting with the children around the neighbourhood, who included her in their activities, and starts adapting to the local environment. She also began to interact with her grandfather and a bond starts to form between them.

Between the scenes of interactions between Sarah and her grandfather, there were also flashbacks that revealed the strained relationship between Sarah's mother and grandfather. It was revealed that Sarah's mother, unmarried and pregnant with Sarah, had a strong argument with her father (Sarah's grandfather) who was strongly against her moving to New York City to live with her boyfriend. She disregarded his advice and ran away from home, never contacting him for decades while perusing a career as a fashion designer whilst balancing her role of a single mother after Sarah's father abandoned her.

Over time, the bond between Sarah and her grandfather deepened, despite occasional tension created by differences between her contemporary, social media-influenced lifestyle and her grandfather's conservative values. Sarah had warmed to the community so much that as the time draws closer to her departure, she became reluctant to leave. Above all, she did not want to leave her grandfather alone, as she had learnt of his various health ailments that he had hid from everyone over the years. Sarah thus prodded her grandfather to embrace new media so that she could communicate with him overseas and also tried desperately to get her mother and grandfather to reconcile.

Before Sarah's departure, Sarah's grandfather got Ah Bao to film a video to give to Sarah's mother when he dies. Inside, he apologized for not being a good father, his admiration for raising Sarah single-handedly as well as him bequeathing assets to her and Sarah. Ah Bao, defying his promise to keep the video secret, sends the touching video to Sarah's mother. Touched by his words, Sarah's mother hurriedly returns home and reconciles with her father after many years of estrangement.

In was shown in the film's closing credits that Sarah's grandfather flew to New York together with Sarah and her mother.


Remarks/Thoughts/Lessons:

        This movie displays various moral values, cultural values, and the differences in a generation gap which at some times, may cause a conflict. Despite this, the real meaning behind the Chinese culture -- especially here in Malaysia -- is love.

     Lessons I've learned are:
1. Always be open and compassionate toward one another.
2. We may be imperfect and flawed in our ways, but we must acknowledge that we are all human and that as human beings, we make mistakes. Learn to accept that, forgive, reconcile, and move on.
3. Hold true to your roots and values.
4. Respect your elders, and honour each other in the family.
5. Always make friends and try your best to live in peace and harmony with your family, friends and neighbours.

This movie has some very sentimental and emotional scenes, that have made me jerk a tear or two (okay, okay...maybe even more than that. Hahaha)

So, if you are to watch this movie, watch at your own risk.
In other words, enjoy!

I'll try. (Keep me accountable)

I'm just gonna randomly type out things just for the sake of filling up the void which are overdue blog assignments.

Here's a reality check:
1. SPM examinations are in approximately 6 months
2. Trials are in 4
3. For the first time, in a school exam, I'm actually gonna get a grade lower than an A for English, due to the beloved English teacher's marking scheme which include blog assignments and written work-- of which I've failed to maintain...
4. The rest of my grades are still playing average to below average
5. I still suck at self-management
6. I still suck at time management
7. I'm still trying to get rid of porn addiction
8. I'm fighting myself
9. Still trying to set my priorities straight.
10. Trying to get myself to actually practice what I preach.


   Here are some things about myself: firstly, like we all are, I am lost. I don't know what the future holds. I'm still not sure of my ambition. Also, I tend to picture myself alone sometimes, with no friends; I mean, hey. People do come and go...right? Even my parents won't be around anymore to nag and lecture me, what more my brother and sister? I am on my own, even from here on, trying to figure myself out.

  I try to take my faith seriously; I am a Christian...but what the heck am I doing? I am no better than any other sinner out there (God forgive me). I kinda hate myself for this. If I am supposed to live in the light, why do I still hide in darkness? "Christians are hypocrites". Of course we all are because we are human like you! But I don't get it. I'm supposed to be different. I'm supposed to change. I am nothing more than just mere sinful flesh.

     I'll just try to start over again, I suppose...

I need to know the balance between silence and sound.
My mind is all over the place; I am like the sea being tossed and turned by the waves of the wind.
I talk too much; it shows how foolish I am.

Give me wisdom
Give me

peace.

I'll try again.
I'll just

try.

Ode to Love; and to Care. ©

Mother.
Her eyes, like sweet pearls
yet tired
her face, fair,
yet longing
her soul, beautiful
yet shaken and stirred.
Her love, keeps going
her love, presses forward
her love, is not sweet.

Her love shouts,
her love kills the spirit of joy
but at the same time resurrects 
the common sense in the meaning of
the word "priority"

"Life is not fun", she says.
"It is not all fun and games.
Out there is a war
you are not willing to fight
just because you have it all."

"Life", she says, "is not all daisies and roses.
Out there you have to struggle
with all your might
through the thorns of life,
the pangs of labour"

"Life is not your own", she says
"Out there when you find love
that's when you'll struggle.
You'll realise I was right
and you'll know what it's like to be
just like me.
I have to sacrifice everything I have for you
the life I have in these veins
the time that slips from my hands
the breath that I give away
my strength
my might
my will
just to give myself
for food on the table
for a roof over your head
for a car to go from point A to B
see, everything costs my hard-earned cash that I worked for you
to sustain you.
And you live like this;
you take me for granted!
You live carelessly thinking like everything else is all cared for, done and given to you
like you don't need to do anything
everything is provided for, but you see, dear darling.

Life is harsh
Life is cruel
Life is against what you thought life to be
Because when you go out to face life's true face
life feels more like death!
Everyday you feel like you've come to the end of yourself
but you know you gotta just press forward
because you have love.

And you just gotta work a little harder", she says.

Her love is like medicine
chemically fixing my physical ailments
helping me fight my own flesh.
It is not sweet,
as she scolds and weeps
and shouts and rants and rages

She literally tells me to not cut myself
whilst threatening to stab me
if I were to ever reach for the blade!

It is like

Father.
When he reaches his fist towards my face

"I want to punch you", he says
I wonder, is his love for me based on my grades
that he should be angry because I do not please him?

I remember my cousin
when he told me
"My father once said 'I hate you' to me, to my face"
and I felt it was something like that.

The way he, no, both my parents rage at my little brother
for losing his textbook
and when questioned
accusations pour forth
death threats rain down from the doom
which is my father's sky.

It reminded me of when I was little,
traumatised,
wanting to leave home,
disappointed,
because when I was seven
my mother was right:
it felt like the whole world were against me; 
including my parents.

I was a "liar"
but the irony
when poetic justice marches in victorious,
when the truth wins out
as I pressed forward.

But if Life were a hurricane
and Love, a pain
then I wouldn't wanna go through all that

But the truth is,
as always, the truth, it hurts
Life is against you
and so is Love
but Love, is special.

It is not for me but it is for you.
It isn't sweet sometimes but it is healthy.

Father has done well
Mother is still working
and both brother and sister
still naive
still ignorant
still...safe

and I, I'm getting ready to leave
searching for a love
I'll be struggling to receive
'cause, I'll be looking for the sweetness you didn't give me, Ma
but they won't hand it to me

like you have.

- Aaron J. Patrick
(overdue; 4/3/2017)

Creativity: A Story of Restoration.

             So it was on last Tuesday, on the 21st of February that the whole of Form 5 had an inter-class English drama competition in conjunction with Curicullum Week in school (we were separated into two categories: the previous day, the 20th being the first category which is the second half of the form, and the second day, 21st being the second category which is the first half of the form). The theme of the drama competition is called "Creative and Innovative", and our story, a bleak, dystopian world in the near future with no creativity under the dictatorship of a leader of a political corporation. This story of ours had come a long way (well, not exactly "long" long, but like, a few weeks old...), from the time we began script writing, to practicing, to shouting at each other, and finally, managing to perform well.

            From the people we had in our class, we knew we had good game. So, we salvaged whatever resources we could find; we chose directors, playwrites, wardrobe and props managers from amongst ourselves and formed a core team. We then took to ourselves the then soon-to-be story for our play, in order to form a script to act by. It wasn't easy. We had various ideas; from a robot and its maker, to a flower in the village tribe, and finally to a more realistic/futuristic society without creativity. We settled with the final idea and started producing the script, all thanks to our playwrite, Zhao Lyng. The script itself was not that all perfect, I mean, it was really good. Just that I had noticed a few typo errors here and there, a redundancy in terms (martial arts artist *smh*), and that it needed to be edited along the way during our practices as we noticed that we had a time limit for our act and that the script was all a tad bit too long-winded, due to unnecessary scenes and the narrator's long lines.

         We then chose for ourselves suitable candidates to be our players. The main characters are: Alexander Knight, our hero; the three powers of creativity: Tiffany Jean the Musician, Josephine Koo the Dancer, and Alan Tyler the Artist; the antagonists: Mr P. Salvatore the Dictator, Lana the Assistant, and the six henchmen.
We then discussed characters and traits that relate between the characters and classmates, and soon after, held an audition within the classroom during our English period. At last, we managed to settle the cast within two days and it was on to practice! We were rough around the edges; it took us what seemed like forever to get that one fight scene down! But after a while, we managed to nail it down and continue with the other scenes. It was during practice when we discovered we were dragging the time as we found out later on that we had a time limit of 12 minutes for the entire play! So it was here then, that we had to edit parts and pieces of the script to make it more concise and efficient for us throughout.

         Weeks after weeks and to of no avail was our play rehearsal able to be under the stated 12-minute time limit. It was the last week before the drama competition. In all desperation did we throw in and take out ideas, scenes, parts of the script and etcetera. Throughout most of the rehearsals, you could see us directors, Zhao Lyng especially, try our very best to direct the cast (in my honest opinion, I think I did the least "directing" work compared to Ryan and Zhao Lyng). When all didn't seem to go well, we sat down, took a good look at the script, and started reading the script aloud by ourselves to see how it would go, whilst measuring the time with a stopwatch. Guess what? It was perfect, but we didn't understand why we couldn't do it under the time limit. So we sat down. Ryan became anxious and then started to sing a hymn, hoping his prayer to God would work a miracle, and I sang along with him, being familiar with the chorus of the song; but Zhao Lyng scoffed at him, saying, "at this point even Jesus won't bother hearing you" or something along those lines. I know that for that statement, she would be proven wrong; a miracle was definitely bound to happen.

           It all came down to competition day, where we drew lots as to see who was first to present their play. I can't recall exactly in what order were the classes but I remember we got to be the last class to perform. After witnessing the other classes' plays, I must say, some of them were better than ours in certain aspects; 5 Cengal's fight scenes had put ours to shame! But we had nothing to worry about as we had already covered everything we had got from storyline to presentation and everything in between. The other classes' stories as presented are: the chief of a tribe seeking the longest and funniest story in the world, investigating a murder case, seeking vengeance for the loss of a loved one, and opening an ancient artifact. The other classes did a splendid job presenting their play. Finally, after a long wait, it was our turn. Before we began, time had been given for us to set up. Whilst other classes brought their laptops for sound effects and backing tracks, I brought my phone (and that was one of the biggest differences between us and the other classes. HAHA) as I was in charge of the sounds, and I began to test my phone; everything was just right (sort of). Ryan then called the cast together and had a small motivational talk with them. I, on the other hand, was busy checking this and that, hoping everything would go fine (I did go there for a while, but I didn't stay long with them and I don't remember what Ryan said to them).

         At long last, our show began. Everything was going well as planned. The scenes transitioned smoothly, and the actors played their characters and said their lines efficiently. Although there was a slight delay in the sound effects (*cough cough*), overall, it went pretty smooth, and guess what!? Our play went so well it was under 12 minutes and 49 seconds, which is so much better than our previous rehearsals! To cut the already-long story short, we did it; we won first place amongst the others due to our storyline being the best with the right message portrayed! Dhurka, who played Lana, got the "best actress" award too (and from what I heard, our main "bad" man, Kaveenesh aka Prakash, a longer name for Mr. P, was supposed to get "best actor" but the judges felt that it would be unfair to give everything to us, so they let the main actor of Cengal's play get "best actor" instead).

       Truly, our hard work definitely won this out for us. Should we have had any doubt, all we had to do was just have a little bit of faith and go according to plan. Truly, I say, it was a miracle for us indeed.

Thank you, 5 Angsana.
It was an honour working with you.

What a memorable day indeed.