Realizing the dearth of topics on which to blog - despite a very sweet girl's help (thanks anyway, darling!) - I have settled on paying off a long overdue bill that has been festering upon my digital desktop for about a year now. Or is that a couple of weeks (I'm still having trouble getting the idea of this being 2008 - Happy Belated New Year!)?

The rot in question is a tag to complete a "mundane" (in the tagger's words himself) meme about yours truly. In short, Henry, here's what you asked for. I hope these answers don't disappoint you completely. *grins wickedly*

List out the top five presents you wish for:

1. A brand new desktop computer, complete with 19" LCD monitor and 2 GBs of RAM, upon which I can play uber-cool games and experiment with Adobe Photoshop CS2 endlessly (so I'm a geek, SUE ME!)!
   
2. A simple, decent digital camera.
   
3. An MP3 player.
   
4. A Perodua Kancil. I need motivation to practice my driving. Yes, I don't have a license. No, I can't ride a motorcycle either 'cos I don't have a license for that too.
   
5. Cash. Lots and lots of cash. To quote Ms Britney Spears (ah, how far she hath fallen), "Gimme more!"
   

The person who tagged you is: Yew Guo Zheng (Henry)

Your five impressions of him:

1. Intelligent.
2. British.
3. Egg.
4. Sadistic.
5. Wordy.

The most memorable words he said to you:
"BAH!"

If he becomes your lover, you will…
..probably realize my mistake once the hangover clears up.

If he becomes your enemy, the reason will be…
..a betrayal so vicious and brutal that the very foundations of the world will be shaken. Additionally, I will make millions selling the sordid story of this unexpected backstabbing to influential tabloids worldwide, and then go on to hosting my own talk show.

As the more perceptive of you may have realized by now, I have had no Internet connection at home for the past.. three weeks or so. I promise to blog more regularly now that I've returned to UTP.

Pass the quiz to ten persons who you wish to know how they feel about you:

1. Jared Ee
   
2. Yi Wei
   
3. Hui Wen
   
4. Aimi
   
5. Jolynn
6. The Psycho Kid
   
7. Fang Xuan
   
8. Wen Sher
   
9. Melissa
   
10. Mildred

Who is No. 7 having a relationship with?
I wasn't aware that he has a girlfriend, really.

Who is No. 9 having a relationship with?
I wasn't aware she has a boyfriend, either!

If No. 9 and No. 1 are together, will it be a good thing?
No, 'cos there just isn't the chemistry for things to work out well. Trust me on this. *winks*

What about No. 1 and No. 5?
Well you could try, but it'd seem as if something was lacking from the relationship.

What is No. 3 studying?
Law, aiming to become a lawyer (..must..resist..urge..to crack..stupid..joke..!).

When is the last time you chatted with No. 6?
Last year, during exam week.

Does No. 4 work?
Not full-time, if you asked me. As far as I know, she's still studying.

Has any cousin in his/her own school?
How should I know such things. Find out from her yourself!

Will you be with No. 10?
As a friend? Yes. As more than a friend? Perhaps. As a lover? Guess not!

How about No. 5?
As a friend? Sure. As more than a friend? Maybe. As a lover? No chance!

Does No. 2 have any siblings?
I'm not sure. If I'd to hazard a guess, I'd say... no?

How did you get to know about No. 2 and No. 4?
No. 2 - Blogging, 2005(06?).
No. 4 - JKMM-UNICEF Children's Rights Convention Workshop, 2004.

Where does No. 1 live?
Fair Park.

How did you get to know No. 8?
Through the Orientation Week in Universiti Teknologi PETRONAS, 2006.

Is No. 5 the sexiest person in the world?
She could be!

* * * * *

The Orientation Week program begins in a week's time. I've returned to UTP to attend to several things pertaining to the Orientation Week, as well as the Student Council. I'll be posting a short story next, so stay tuned!

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I'm currently in university till the 19th of December to complete the strategic planning for the Student Representative Council. Planning is hard work. Even with a day packed full of classes I never expected to find myself wringing my brain for ideas every minute of the day!

On the other hand, with my old desktop sent home already, I've been playing around with Photoshop on friends' computers, and boy, is it fun! I only wish my old desktop could support the voracity of Photoshop's hunger for system resources. *frowns*

I hope to find my connection at home still working that I may update this blog regularly during the holidays. In the meantime, this little update will have to do for the time being (since I'm using my friend's computer while he's praying) - see you all after I return home on the 19th's evening.

Ciao!

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The 'Double-Nine' short story series consists of many, individual stories composed within a ninety-nine word limit. It's intended partly for me to keep blogging even if I don't feel like it, as well as help me hone my writing skills. This is the first story in the series; comments are welcomed and much appreciated.

We were lying in bed together after making sweet love, her naked body entwined with mine. We've been together for seven years now. I remember the resistance her father had put up to my marrying her. It almost broke her, facing the man who watched her grow up respond so angrily like that. I gave her my hand to hold, a small sign of tenderness. She eventually pulled through to marry me. I smile, and it is a happy one. I love her as much as she loves me. Why can’t anyone accept that, just because I’m a girl?

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Silent figures in the night
Walk in shadows, out of sight;
You can't see us but we're there,
Watching you from everywhere.

We crawl on ceilings and on walls
While always seeking empty halls,
Seeking, tracking, looking out;
Treasure's always somewhere about.

A lock in place? Oh dear, oh dear.
But from it we have naught to fear:
A swish, a crick, a gentle tug,
Oh this lock's less trouble than a small bug!

The gateway yields, oh what a shame!
There is no lock that'll keep us lame-
So, in we come while you're away;
The 'mice' are here to sing and play!


You'll never find us how much you try
Not even when you break down and cry;
We have no soul nor sympathy,
Only greed and lust and apathy.

Silent figures in the night
Walk in shadows, out of sight;
Our itchy hands will take away
Your favorite stuff and ruin your day!

This post is dedicated to thieves around the world. May you be forever cursed by a thousand misfortunes for every item that isn't yours.

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Some artists have the benefit of having their very own muse. You know, that someone who inspires them to creative heights and drops neatly wrapped works on their doorstep, while the rest of us aspirants-in-waiting have to slog it out to produce something even remotely resembling the wrapping.

Anyway, going by the broadest possible definition of that word, I'd say my 'muse' for today is Jasmine, my favorite oh-so-kinky gal, who recently tagged me to complete this meme.

The Rules:
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. List eight (8) random facts about yourself.
3. Tag eight people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them).
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged.

Here goes!

Ersten: I value my friends and family a lot.

If there's anything that matters in my life, it'd definitely have to be the people I know and love. From random acquaintances I found on Friendster to like-minded bloggers, I don't know where - or even who - I'd be without people like them.

I do all sorts of things with this nutty bunch of folks - from gabbing nonstop for hours on end, to watching one movie after another for hours on end, to just sitting around saying nothing at all for hours on end. And when you've spent most of your years (so far) in Deadtown (Ipoh), you really come to rely on the people you know to spice things up a bit now and then.

Zweiten: What Buddhism means to me.

Buddhism only really began to become an integral part of my life after I attended the PETRONAS scholars' motivational programme called 'Soaring the Eagle' at Port Dickson this year. My facilitator remarked that I seemed to be a 'spiritual' person in how I viewed the world around me.

This brought up a lot of questions in me about faith. And yes, religion scares me. Watching people hate each other on the basis of practicing different faiths is demoralizing. Even among members of the same faith with different interpretations there are conflicts.

Buddhism is different because it is not a religion, it is a way of life. The most important part of Buddhism is its focus on moderation, on living a good life and treating people well as we go along. People seem to have forgotten to be good for being good, especially in this day and age. Religion has become too much of a bad thing if people are willing to kill others in its name.

Dritten: If only I could write as well as you do.

Don't look at me like that. Yes, I know I can spin a pretty colorful yarn once in awhile, but its the stories that captivate and inspire that I wish to pen. I dream of writing stories that make people think, make them wonder, and above all, make them dare to dream big, think big, act big because they can.

I look for inspiration everywhere. Somehow or other though, I seem to be collecting dozens of ideas for an alternate-reality Earth of some sort. Regardless, while I strive to find my muse, I shall pen another series revolving around something like that.

Ideas, comments and suggestions on how to write inspiring stories are much appreciated!

Vierten: I want to sing out loud!

Just so you know, I'm feeling very self-conscious as I type this.

The only reason why I don't is because I get the jitters and start to shake and chatter when I try to sing. But I've already had positive feedback from my first "public" (*coughs*) performance, so I'm looking to improve myself. Not as a career or talent, but just for fun so I can confidently pick up a karaoke mike when times call for it.

Fünften: All for sex(uality) education!

Not just to weasel out of having to elaborate (since Jasmine's already put this down as one of her facts.. *laughs*), but because it really is necessary.

I mean, considering the relatively high number of sexual crimes in Malaysia (incest, rape, molest, sodomy, etc.) - especially in a certain conservative state which happens to be the last bastion of a particular religious political party *hmmm* - it's high time our youth be exposed to the issue of sex(uality) without it being taboo! The only way they really learn things currently is through hushed whispers and dirty jokes.. and then some.

And while we're at it, how about some classes on ways to have sex (hands-on lessons not recommended)? It's not just about procreation, you know. Sometimes I do wonder what guys and girls out there really know about "it".

..and at this point in time, I find my brain beginning to jam. And so, with the help of some sweet friends, the final three facts:

Sechste: The Drama King, Me.

Jocelyn observed I have a habit of being random at times, which is true (only I didn't think of it at all). I swing between being painstakingly annoying and overly enthusiastic faster than you can spell premenstrual syndrome. Then again, sometimes I love being over-the-top ballistically bonkers for the sake of ... nothing much in particular.

In the case of being oh-so-drama, I find people's reactions when they see something totally unexpected from me a hoot. I just get a kick out of confusing the hell out of people (or hearing them go sarcastically, "Right.."). So darn funny!

For example, in a recent MSN Messenger conversation with the uber-hot Jasmine (after I was rather indirect in thanking her for providing me with the seventh fact):

[21:30] jasmine: you should've made that obvious
[21:30] jasmine: and stop being so indirectly.
[21:30] jasmine: :P
[21:31] Me: sorryyyyyyyy~~
[21:31] Me: i shall try to remember to be more direct with u in future
[21:31] jasmine: good
[21:31] jasmine: but not tooo direct
[21:31] jasmine: as in like,if my butt bigger,say its smaller
[21:32] jasmine: but then i'll hit you nonetheless
[21:32] jasmine: but much more better that way,rather than you saying that its bigger
[21:32] jasmine: :D
[21:32] Me: girls dont like big butts? *scribbles mental note
[21:33] Me: correction: girls dont like big butts on themselves? *rescribbles notes
[21:34] jasmine: -___-

Damn, that was so worth it! *laughs hysterically*

Siebte: Hiding under girls' beds is fun.

This little nugget is from Jasmine herself too (which explains why I was thanking her above). During the workshop on children's rights I attended in 2004, I'd snuck into the girls' dorm for.. a midnight chat (don't you go about getting no funny ideas!!). And as we sat there talking in our pajamas, along came the camp facilitators - what a coincidence!

Fortunately (for me), one of the girls saw them coming so I dashed under Jasmine's bed.. and the girls proceeded to cover me in shirts, luggage bags, plastic bags and what-nots to the point of burying me alive under there.

After holding my breath (both in suspense and not to suck in any of the dust where I was) for sometime, the facilitators left, satisfied. The girls had successfully hid me away in their dorm! Under Jasmine's bed! That was seriously one hell of an adrenaline rush. Don't expect me to be doing the same thing in UTP, though! *sticks tongue out*

Achte: I'm pretty scary when I'm angry.

To quote the big green guy, "You won't like me when I'm angry." Then again, who'd ever like another when that person's angry? Anger sure brings out the worst in people. And it brings out the worst of me. I remember clearly one time in class.. my mates were raising one hell of a ruckus that could bring the roof down (and if you studied in St. Mike's, Ipoh then, there certainly was a possibility).

Next thing I knew I'd raised my head from my work and shouted, "Oi, shut up la!" I was rather surprised when they did. In fact, later one of my classmates (Kee Cheong, a guy who looked smart but also real rough and tough) said it was quite frightening to see my outburst like that.

My kind of anger is the slow poison that will kill you from the inside-out, eating its way through from your heart to every inch of your body. Apparently, I have this chilling manner of selecting just the right words to dissect your emotions, slice by slice, and hurt you deeply. Ask Henry; we've had our fair share of fights and misunderstandings, and I wasn't exactly very civil, either.

So the next time you cross my path, don't say you weren't warned. *evil laugh*

..now, to tag eight people to do this meme. So, hey you!:

1.Khael
2.Guo Zheng
3.linn
4.Siti
5.Infectioner
6.Redblaque
7.The Neo Visualist
8.Christon

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Since the time of King Richard and his noble Crusades, my family crest has been synonymous with power and all its trappings. Every other aristocratic clan in the nation - nay, the continent - bowed to our every whim and fancy as if we were descended of God. And with the amount of wealth and influence we had, who was to say we weren't?

However, there was much more afoot than the gossip at court would lead us to believe. In time, the populace rose against us, demanding new leaders to govern them. Fearing retribution, my family relinquished their hold on power to the people, and a new, democratic nation was borne out of the ashes of our fall.

Still, all was not well in the new nation. People starved in the streets as our leaders raped the land for its mineral wealth to earn profit. Countless crimes were committed against innocent lives that soon, a reign of terror was installed beneath the thin veneer of supposed "civilization" and "peace".

And thus, beginning with my grandmother and her twin sons, our family plotted in secret against the ruling government to expose its lies to the world and crush it in a murderous campaign of vengeance.

But the more I was involved in their plans to topple an arrogant government, the more unspeakable acts I saw being committed by my family's behalf. Faceless mercenaries operating as government agents, slaughtering mindlessly as the news of horrific incidents were used to bolster the credibility of my family's private war.

In time, I began to feel as if my family, too, was succumbing to the brutal barbarity against which we supposedly stood. When my mother passed away, I finally found the strength to leave the Organization with which I grew up.

It was then Dad and all his like-minded associates decided to do away with me, now that I had been conveniently termed "a liability".

"So this is my eldest son? The one we were planning to put on the throne? You can't imagine how glad I am that you've turned against us! Saves us so much trouble later on.."

About a week ago I decided it was time to stop running and face my fears. I sure as hell didn't give a damn about ideals like "freedom" or "justice", but to let my family re-assume the mantle of power was out of the question.

I was still thinking the same thing even as Dad stepped into the room to survey the bloody remains of my uncle - his twin.

He knelt close to me and opened his mouth as if to speak, but I cut him off. "Don't even start, dad," I coughed. "You've done worse to people, like-"

He finished my sentence for me, "Like grandma?" He smiled benignly and tilted his head to one side, thoughtfully.

"And then some," I continued. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, grunting as my lungs protested painfully. I twisted into a more comfortable position and turned to face my father.

Dad lifted me up off the floor and slammed me against the wall, cracking a picture frame. I screamed in agony as a bolt of pain ripped through my chest.

"Not even you will be able to stop me from succeeding this time, son," he glowered. "I've waited too long for this moment to let an upstart like you ruin it for me!"

"Don't forget who trained this 'upstart', Dad!" I kicked out and knocked him over. I heard the "oof" as he doubled over from the sudden blow to his belly. I tried to draw my knife but Dad tripped me over and grabbed at my throat violently.

I choked and scrabbled to throw him off. It wasn't easy. Dad quickly overpowered my feeble attempts and chucked me across the room. A flower pot roughed up my descent. Dad cricked his neck and walked over briskly, seizing me by the collar and laughed. I wanted to spit in his face but all I managed was a dribble before Dad sent me flying again, smashing my head into the glass window overlooking the plaza below.

And of all times to feel dizzy, the feeling hit me now. I vomited blood all over the upholstery.

..my breath came in spurts; I was losing consciousness. I was dying..

Dad snorted and declared triumphantly, "So this is my eldest son? The one we were planning to put on the throne?" He kicked me and I cried out in pain, rolling over in agony. "You can't imagine how glad I am that you've turned against us! Saves us so much trouble later on.."

He kicked me again and again until I was a whimpering, crying wreck of a man on all fours. He sighed almost reluctantly and withdrew a gun from his coat, cocking it.

"I'm actually going to miss you, you little prick. Say hello to your mother for me, will you-?"

I didn't let him finish. Heck, interrupting was always more fun, especially since he was gloating. I shot him four times in the chest with the pistol I'd found conveniently next to me while I was convulsing in pain.

He looked shocked, dazed even, and fired wildly as he spun. I blew out the window behind him with a few well-placed shots, watching him careen helplessly over the edge of the building, screaming as he fell.

As the last spent bullet casing fell to the floor, so too did my crumpled, wasted body. My vision was tinted red, my mouth choked with sweet blood. My lungs, hemorrhaging violently as my heart continued to pump at an alarming rate, disgorging liquid ruby all over the expensive office carpeting. My breath came in spurts; I was losing consciousness. I was dying...

But I managed to get the last word in edgewise: "Tell her yourself, asshole."

The last thing I remember before passing out was my mother, smiling sadly as she used to, reaching out with her bony hands to caress my bloodied cheek lovingly. I closed my eyes and whispered, "Mother.. take me away with you.."

I remember smiling before she took my hand in hers, and finally letting that bleak darkness overtake me. Everlasting peace at last..

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As the title clearly states, I am stuck - in Universiti Teknologi PETRONAS. Currently, my lecturers in the Computer and Information Sciences Department have decided to select the best students in my Object-Oriented Programming class to learn the real-world application of Java, a flexible and powerful programming language that is in use worldwide for a variety of uses.

I'm quite grateful about being selected, particularly since I'm a person who's very much interested in Java (once one is good at it, one naturally aims higher). For the better part of this past semester, people have been struggling to get by in the subject because of the difference between object-oriented and structured programming (which we learned beforehand in the January semester of this year).

Assignment submission datelines always became a frenetic race against time as people attempted to develop - or copy - a working solution to the given problems at hand, oftentimes going without sleep for nights in a futile effort to set up a running program that fulfills the assignment marking criteria.

I suppose the whole problem started when our first assignment was to build a simple (simple being a relative term) working calculator using Java. At that point we had no idea what the code was like (other than being inherited for C, which we learned previously), what functions to use, the basic concepts of Java - in short, we didn't know anything substantial at all!

From that point on, working on Java became nothing more than a headache for the majority of us, what with all of us struggling to keep afloat. I learned the best way to get familiar with Java was to tinker around and read up the many resources available on the Internet, especially the official tutorials and "dictionary" that provided examples on how to use certain keywords.

So now, my efforts have paid off. I mean, being selected to learn Java for what it is, instead of the simple (again, relativity is important) programs that we've had to create before, during the semester. My room mate is around to keep me company (he was selected, too), but our only complaint is that the campus this time around is too quiet. Just about everyone else has gone home for the holidays, and most of the cafes are closed as well, thereby limiting our choice of food for meals.

Since nowadays I expect to have nothing much to do (or, heaven forbid, nothing to do!), I will post soon about the past half-a-week that has been my holidays thus far. Toodles!

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As the spent bullet casing fell to the floor, so too did my crumpled, wasted body. My vision was tinted red, my mouth choked with sweet blood. My lungs, hemorrhaging violently as my heart continued to pump at an alarming rate, disgorging liquid ruby all over the expensive office carpeting. My breath came in spurts; I was losing consciousness. I was dying...

The countdown to my death began three days ago, when I'd 'accidentally' let my grandmother escape after I was supposed to kill her. She'd died in a tragic road accident yesterday though; a train had slammed into her car and crushed her. Her mangled body was horrible to look at - just the way my father liked it. I just didn't think grandma'd be that careless to escape from the clutches of death at my hands, only to end up being run over by a two thousand-ton train.

If dad was willing to kill his own mother for failing to dispose of me, he must be getting desperate to end this once and for all.

Now I find myself in the capital city. Dad's office is located in the Old City Quarter, a proud, modern spire of steel and glass dwarfing centuries-old colonial-style architecture around it. Being in close proximity to the Senate Guildhall certainly has its boons. I recognized the coat-of-arms of a prominent Senator ubiquitously displayed on buff armored guards strutting around my father's office.

My original plan was to sneak into a side entrance, knock out one of the janitors, don his outfit, hide my weapons in his cleaner cart, get past the guards to the top floor where dad was, then go in and put a bullet through his skull before he even knew I was there.

"In an hour's time, the President and his puppet Cabinet will be dead, and I will show this country the values that once made it great."

Seeing all those guards made me change my mind. With that many around dad, I honestly thought I didn't stand a chance of making it out alive. Thus, I decided to throw caution to the wind and just blast my way through. If I was going to die, might as well do it with company.

I pulled up outside the building and grabbed my all-time favorite terrorist weapon: the rocket-propelled grenade. I remembered hearing the guards yelling something at me, but the explosion that blew out the lobby kinda canceled out whatever it was they were saying.

That done, I chucked the empty launcher aside as people ran helter-skelter and panicked. Coolly stepping over the smoking bodies of several brutes, I cocked a couple of Uzis and stepped into the ruined reception area. There was more than one motionless body lying around, which pleased me.

I decided to take the stairs up. The lifts were too dangerous anyway. As I made my way up more than a few guards took their chances with me, and I made them pay dearly by feeding them my bullets or throwing them down several floors. Occasionally, even the fire extinguishers came in handy for cracking skulls open.

It took me awhile before I finally reached the highest floor, bloody and adrenaline-fueled. Ms Sanders, my dad's busty blond bombshell babe-secretary was missing. Instead, seated at her desk was a man dressed in an immaculate business suit, wielding a twelve-gauge shotgun like a kid with a new toy.

"Senator McCannon," I said through gritted teeth, my voice respectful yet full of spite for this monstrosity of a man who'd corrupted my father.

"Do you know," he spoke softly as he weighed the weapon in his hands, "how much it costs me to train one of my personal guards?"

"Do I look like I give a fuck, Senator?"

"Six hundred thousand per man, son," he smirked. "I thought I told your father to teach you to show respect for your elders."

"Quit fucking around with me. Where's dad?"

..I watched the Senator's exact twin step out of the room, and staggered to my feet..

"Preparing for the New World Order, sonny!" He pointed the shotgun nonchalantly at my face, continuing, "In an hour's time, the President and his puppet Cabinet will be dead, and I will show this country the values that once made it great."

"Like throwing out the trash into your 'rehabilitation camps' out in the countryside?"

"So Patrick was right," he sneered viciously. "You do take after your mother too much."

I drew my revolver and shoved it into his face. He barely even blinked, cocking the shotgun almost simultaneously in response. "Do you really think you can kill me? Once you pull that trigger, you'll die too. And even if you have the misfortune of surviving - which I seriously doubt - my comrades will have you locked up and tortured till a ripe old age."

"Fuck you," I spat at him, pulling the trigger and knocking his shotgun aside at the same time. The buckshot from his weapon tore the window behind me and my chest open, but my bullet lodged itself in his brain and threw him backwards. He slumped lifelessly to the floor while I collapsed, choking from the pain of the blast.

As I coughed I heard the office door open. I watched the Senator's exact twin step out of the room, and staggered to my feet. The second McCannon glanced at the other's corpse, smiling sadly and turning back to me.

It was I who spoke first: "Hello, Father."

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Again, it's that time of the year when people in UTP flock to the library or lock themselves in their rooms in a last-minute dash to cram as much as they possibly can into their heads. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is the examination period once more.

It's strange that I should feel totally unprepared for these examinations..

I enjoy watching students scurry about during this trying time; the final stretch before the finals begin and test how you've been doing the whole semester. The usually-deserted library is packed to the maximum and people go in and out, in and out, in and out.. the commotion is notably suppressed, but the thrum of conversation is still there, nonetheless.

This semester has been.. strange. The absence of a mid-semester break has left me wanting, struggling to stay afloat even as others are convinced I've my head comfortably above water. I was so close to cracking - if it weren't for the merciful one week Hari Raya holidays, I swear I would have gone mad from the sheer amount of work to be had.

Now I'm in the Student Representative Council, Promotion and Publication Executive Committee (Exco) as the Assistant Head (or Exco II). The study week was marked by gaming sessions (!), studying, and preparations for the Council's Annual Raya Open House (held yesterday night).

It went well, though I must say it leaves a lot to be desired, including a humongous turnout that was mostly there for the free food, rather than the introduction of the new Council for 2007/2008. I'll bet they couldn't have cared tuppence about who organized the damn thing, so long there is free food to be had. Not to mention many of them were very rude as well when we took the trouble to serve them food!

Regardless, it was a success nonetheless, and there were a sporting number of well-wishers who offered congratulatory messages, and even hung around after the event to help us clean up. Somehow, I was more than happy to have these guys and girls around who actually show us genuine support, rather than being so apathetic as to care about just the food.

That aside however, I have a daunting challenge in this first week of exams with four papers to deal with: Object-Oriented Programming, Accounting, System Analysis and Design, as well as Health, Safety and Environment. It's strange that I should feel totally unprepared for these examinations, considering I have been doing quite a bit of studying (though not lately).

Perhaps it's just the tension of having to take examinations, eh? I'm looking forward to the period immediately after these two weeks of six papers, 'cause by then, it'd be the holidays, and I can relax and unwind! Well, relax and unwind at least for a short while before the next semester begins. Since I'm in the Council I've to be back to handle the Orientation Week for the new intake of students.

Life's never dull when you're a busy, successful student it seems! *winks*

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If you're reading this now, I am a murderer twice over already. I've killed myself twice. Most people do it once and then they don't hang around long enough to tell the people they know that. Then again, being me, I guess in a way it was to have been expected.

So what exactly do I mean by, "killed myself"? For most of you reading this now, the answer would be pretty obvious. For the three odd years that I've been hammering out my thoughts on the keyboard, I've had two personal blogs. Both of them are very much parts of me, as much as my heart is a part of me.

..despite me abandoning my previous two "foster sons" in the dark before putting the bullets to their head..

Both of them, surprisingly, suffered the same fate as well: long periods of neglect, followed by the quick and painless execution.

Despite that, I find myself here again in Blogspot where I started off as a blogger. I'm not very sure how long this blog will last me, and whether or not I will maintain the dedication necessary to continuously update this highly public diary of mine.

Still, there is something that compels me to write, despite the lack of reader responses, despite the busy and hectic schedules, despite me abandoning my previous two "foster sons" in the dark before putting the bullets to their head.

Whatever my reasons (unknown to even me as they are), I take up this cause once more. Unlike the previous two, there will be no promises of discipline and consistency. I've failed twice already, and I see no reason to make promises I'm not sure I'll be able to keep at all. But do my damndest I shall, and perhaps, only time will tell what will happen to this "third son".

Au revoir.

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