Ta-dah!
Firstly, an *emo* picture made using PhotoShop..
How weird.
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And, an amazing disclaimer by a Chinese-Flute site (http://chinese-flute.com):
Disclaimer: Everything on this website (chinese-flute.com) is provided AS IS. This website (chinese-flute.com) has done the very best to make sure that all information is correct, all words spelt corectly, and that the colors are comfortable enough for the viewers' eyes. However, in the event of a mistake in the information provided within this website, we cannot take responsibility. For example, if a chinese flute causes your dog run in circles, we cannot take responsibility, nor if you find that you can't stop playing the chinese flute, we also disclaim all responsibility for that. Basically, anything that happens as a result of this website, or as a result of chinese flutes, we cannot take responsibility for. Thank you for understanding.
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Next to come is my submitted essay for the school magazine for 2009..
*Essay Starts Here*
“Never, ever going to be your friend anymore!”
I was an eight-year-old primary student again, glaring in anger at another boy of the same age as I am – Meng. Meng had tears in his eyes, listening in silence as I shouted at him at the top of my voice, which was loud enough for those sitting near us to shoot scandalized glances at us. Moments ago, as Meng and I finally bought our food after queuing up at the canteen, Meng tripped on the uneven canteen floor tiles and knocked my just-opened packet of Chipsmore chocolate cookies out of my hands. Doubtlessly, the cookies sailed through the air and ended up in bits on the floor later.
That evil, bad, fooli-
“Sorry..” Meng’s little voice cut past all the curses and swear words dashing through my mind. His eyes penetrated into mine, pleading for forgiveness, begging me silently not to shout at him like what I am doing now. However, I did not feel any remorse towards the boy – I gave him a hard shove in the chest, and stormed away, with my back turned towards him, determined to show my temper.
***
Meng looked as any other kid in school would look like – normal, except for the fact that he suffered from a serious mental disorder. From what Meng’s mother told me when I went over to his house to play, Meng was an autistic child, and his mentality would never surpass that of a four-year-old child. Not being able to understand what Meng’s mother told me at the time, I just shrugged and thought to myself: Whatever, he’s still my friend.
Since the first day I met Meng, we were both the best of buddies – no one else would take him as a friend except for me. Most of the other students gave him looks that plainly showed disgust and contempt. Some of the boys in our class were not adept in hiding their cruelty – they called Meng all sorts of nicknames because of his unfortunate brain development disorder. “Freak”, “Kindergartener”, “Stupid”… Poor Meng – not understanding the meanings of most of the nicknames – usually gave them a cheery grin in return. He had no choice but to endure this mean discrimination for more than one year since he entered primary school.
As Meng’s best friend, I had the unspoken responsibility to help him in many of his matters in school – by explaining a single sentence to him numerous times, teaching him the correct way of pronouncing the word “friendship”, coaching him on how to get the answer “15” after adding 7 and 8… I did everything in my ability to ensure that he caught up what the teacher teaches every day. I had even sacrificed my relaxation time by reading out simple stories to amuse him, while improving his weak vocabulary at the same time. I tried my best to help him, and to prove that he – no matter what anyone says – could have the ability to think like a normal child. My mind told me that it was impossible to achieve my goal, yet my heart encouraged me to do everything in my abilities and hope for a miracle.
Occasionally after school, we would even venture to the fruit orchard nearby to steal some fruits. After every single theft, I would always remind Meng, “Always keep this a secret, alright, Meng? A secret means that you must not tell anyone about it”. Meng would always reply with in a secretive manner, “Secret, secret, shhh…” I could not help but chuckle at Meng’s “cute antics” – as I called it. One day in school, our assignment for the day was to stand in front of the class and tell everyone about our best friend. Undoubtedly, when it was Meng’s turn, my name was somehow included in his speech as being his best friend in school.
“Ryo is my best-est friend. He helps me in homework, and...”
Little did he know that the other pupils were suddenly gazing in admiration at the boy, whom they called a “Kindergartener” last time able to speak so confidently in front of the class despite the grammar mistakes he was making; Little did he know that the teacher was star-struck at his progress in oral fluency; Little did he know that.. Little did he know that I was so touched that I was nearly in tears after listening to his simple speech about me – his best friend.
***
Two days after the cookie incident, I went to the canteen as usual to buy food again, though this time without the presence of Meng at my side. I bought the same brand of Chipsmore cookies as I did before, tore it open, but as fate would have it, the newly-opened packet of cookies flew out of my hand as a big-sized fifth-grader stormed past, knocking me in the shoulder.
What do Chipsmore cookies have against me these days?!
“Ryo…” I looked up from the broken chunks of cookies on the floor, just to see Meng standing beside me, a sad expression on his face. “What do you want?” I asked him in a rude tone.
“Umm... Umm…” Meng fidgeted with something behind his back, before grabbing my hands and stuffing something into my palms. It was none other than a new packet of Chipsmore cookies. I was momentarily stymied by his act.
“Cookies for you, I buy it. Can… Can you be my best *friend-ship* again?” Meng stuttered.
“What?” I asked, unable to believe my ears.
“Can you be my best friend-ship again? Please?” Meng said again in a more confident tone, his dark brown eyes looking into mine – pleading, apologizing. “I’m sorry that day…”
It was my fault at first, I should be apologizing to him!
“Why not?” I replied with a grin, as I gave him a one-armed-hug, slapping him playfully in the back.
Till now, every time I hear the words “Best Friend”, my thoughts would always stray back to my primary school years, to an autistic child named Meng that changed my narrow-minded perspective of the definition of “friends”.
A friend might not be someone perfect, neither someone flawless;
A friend might hurt you sometimes, but if only they accidentally do so;
A friend listens silently when you scold them, even if you’re actually the one in the wrong;
A friend gives you the chance to be friends again after you two had a row.
A friend is… An angel sent from heaven.
To my dear best friend – Meng, you might not be perfect mentally, but in terms of friendship - you're more than perfect.
*Essay Ends Here*
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And uhh, lastly, some updates of my life.
The dust is finally settling down - contests, duties, etc, etc, are ending one by one. The only few pins left in my
Oh, yeah. English debate.
Ain't it so unfair? I mean, this is like only my FIRST time debating in my entire life, and I'm already pushed to the front line? Can anyone spell "public stoning"? Freak, for one - I have stage-fright. Second - I don't know the freaking do-dont's for debating. Third - I hate debating.
Oh well..
Total topics owned (Audition stage):
"The ends do justify the means" - Government.
"Time is of more importance than money" - Government.
Topics in preparation for the actual competition:
"More emphasis should be given in overcoming disciplinary problems in school" - Government.
"Information Technology (IT) has made people more civilised" - Government.
"What you reap is what you sow" - Government.
"Time is of more importance than money" - Unknown stand yet.
Competition date's set on the 10th and 11th of May. P.O.I.! Denied.
On a happier tone, I just got a new pendrive (Kingston DataTraveler 4GB) for RM17, and a HP (Brand) USB Fan as a lucky draw prize.
Exact model of my new pendrive.
The USB fan. Mine's black instead of blue.
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Till then, fellas! Won't be back till after my exams perhaps (Or the mid-term holidays). Wish my blog doesn't get rusty as it did.
Cheers,
Ryo.
