I've been away from the Internet long enough. It's time I took a little while to come back and start posting here again. In fact, I haven't been posting for so long it feels awkward typing at a keyboard again.

Let's start off with the..

[MINGGU ALUAN SISWA]

In the days running up to the beginning of the semester, I underwent the Orientation Week (or Minggu Aluan Siswa, MAS for short) program as a facilitator. I must say though those two weeks were terribly hectic - it was probably the first time I'd broken down over work - it has turned out to be an extremely satisfying and gratifying experience.

For the juniors who were welcomed into UTP as part of the January 2008 intake, for the seniors who guided us throughout one week of facilitator training and one week of orientation, for the friends I've found through the experience, I thank you one and all for everything. Never will I forget the enriching experience of being part of a wacky, dedicated and charming team of people from all sorts of diverse backgrounds. Especially being the only one in the Desktop Publishing Unit who knew Photoshop! You wouldn't believe how fast they caught up with my lessons! *ahem*

[EXAMINATION RESULTS]

I did tell you about this before, didn't I? Never mind, it's a subject worth repeating. *winks*

I really outdid my expectations for last semester. Where I'd expected a 3.7 or 3.8, I got a 3.95 - as close to perfect as I'd dare hope. Admittedly, getting such terrific results has been a bit of a cause to blush with me, considering a significant number of people have not performed up to their own expectations.

To my friends out there, don't despair! This is another semester, a chance to redeem our past mistakes - heck, I know I made a lot of them! Time to get cracking on the books consistently! Now if only I could find the spare time to start studying..

[CAMPUS LIFE WEEK AKA MINGGU MESRA KAMPUS]

Lately the Student Council has been pretty busy organizing a festival of sorts called the Campus Life Week. It's where *most* of the clubs and societies in UTP strut their stuff along the lecture halls of Pocket D and go all out to promote their upcoming events or attract new members from the new January 2008 intake.

(I say *most* because the Debate Club seems to be missing from the scene, among others, and the Media and Technology - Medtech, for short - club seems to have assimilated the tables assigned for the debaters' booth..)

[SYNTECH ORGANIZATION @ CLW]

I've been heavily involved with the CLW - that's the abbreviation for the event - if only because of my commitments to Syntech Organization, a technology-related club. This year we're going all out to promote ourselves and the many events we've got lined up, such as an apprenticeship program for Foundation students, as well as this wicked cool deal with a local IT company (MSY, based in Meru Jaya, Perak) that allows our members to get computer servicing, accessories and hardware at discounted prices.

As the Head of Human Resources (I've never really understood why its called that), the department has been placed in charge of registering new members. Suffice to say, having cleaned out our old Excel-based database and replaced it with a spanking-new Access one, the response has been good, but for some reason many current members have yet to re-register with the club to entitle themselves to the many benefits of being a member. I guess we've got our work cut out for us!

[STUDENT REPRESENTATIVE COUNCIL]

Besides that, the Student Council seems to have.. slacked, for want of a better word. Somehow I just don't feel the dedication to duty (or COMMITMENT TO TIME) anymore. It's like we're just going through the motions of living. Of course, I won't say that I've been completely innocent, though sometimes I wonder where we're actually heading to.

Right now though, the Council is busy with the recruitment of our working committee members, but the response has been pretty poor. Should we hope to expect more students turning up for the Friday recruitment session? I refuse to be pessimistic. *beams*

[MISTAKES]

To be frank, I've just committed a serious error under Syntech Organization - I planned an event last-minute. Needless to say, everything that could possibly go wrong did, and now I think I'm the one at fault for this immense wastage of energy, ideas, strength, time, and a little money.

Some of us have to learn the hard way, by way of hard knocks on the head. But I'm glad for the learning experience this has provided me. The scale of this failure is bigger than I had foreseen, and by far I am very disappointed with how I have performed lately. I have a commitment to every one of the members within Syntech, and I feel that I must atone for my mistakes and apologize to everyone who had helped me thus far.

Still, its only the beginning of the new semester, and I refuse to let this one failure bog me down. Sure, there's this little insect called Guilt eating away at my heart, but I need to get things done right now that I know my mistakes. The important thing is that we learn from our falls, and get right back up to continue where we left off.

[LECTURES]

I'm glad for my lectures because this semester it seems that I've got quite the number of good ones. There's Prof Jubair from Iraq teaching Software Engineering, Ms Subarna, one of my favorites teaching Professional Communication Skills, Mr Mohammad Noor Ibrahim, teaching Internet Programming, and Dr Baharum, a friend's father who teaches Business Statistics.

Then again, I've not gotten used to the other three yet - Dr Halabi for Data Communication Networks and En Abu Bakar Sedek for Strategic Management. I hope to get to know these two later on, because I'm really determined to score well for this semester's examinations despite my workload. Best way to do that is to get the lecturer to like you (so they teach you nicely, not for extra marks)!

..I guess I'll sign off here for now, blogged long enough. Do check back regularly, alright? Ciao!

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Sometimes you don't ask for work but you get it by the buckets.

It's like there's always something that needs doing.

Even if the time on your watch happens to be 4:00 a.m. in the morning.

For the record, I am currently NOT doing any work. This is some very rare "free time" that I'm getting - if only because I'm not sleeping at the moment.

Lightning flashes intermittently outside. Yet thunder does not boom. Strange.

Is it a sign of weakness to cry, or merely a potent reminder of our brittle humanity?

Gotta go shower. Duty calls.

P.S. - For the record, I did much better than expected in the previous semester examinations. Whoopee!

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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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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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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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Bells. There's just something about the way they tinkle and ring that just.. I don't know, annoy me. Whether it's church bells (I've never been that religious anyway) or ice-cream bells (those little brass things they shake to part your money from you faster than you can say "uncle"), I've always hated their sound.

Especially rotten, stinking school bells.

Don't get me wrong, I'm no scrooge - wait till you've seen just how kids stare at me. It's not like I dress like a hobo or anything, but.. someone's gotta teach kids some respect someday soon, you know?

The only reason I'm here at this decrepit building complex where younglings get their supposed "education" is because I've arranged a meeting with an old friend. It took me awhile to find her, but no one hides forever. Not these people, anyway.

Mrs Nance, F.I. had been Principal of this school for quite some years now. It's amazing how no one, not even a single inquisitive student, has ever delved deeper into her past to see what she'd been doing before she was made Principal. Of course, they don't know her as Mrs Nance here, but that's another matter entirely.

Judging from my "death" sometime back, I'd say she's been keeping on her toes. She'll definitely be expecting me to arrive at her doorstep and blow her brains out all over her academic degrees and files. Not that I'd mind the mess. It's not like I've to clean up afterwards anyway.

So it was a clear sunny day when I finally showed up to kill the next one on my list. The school was empty.. funny, I always thought nerd-types hang out in the library after classes to do - whatever it is they're supposed to do. Like study.

Anyway, so there I was at the Principal's office.. and this weird feeling of deja vu just hit me there. I was eight then.. sitting outside an office not unlike this one. I'd hit a boy three years my senior in the face, breaking two of his teeth and leaving him a black eye.

"Hello grandma. Not quite the welcome I expected, anyhow."

Of course, back then he was the chief bully of the school. I suspected that fight garnered me more than just the twelve strokes of the cane on my bare backside - like fame among the girls my age. Or infamy, whatever.

I don't know what startled me out of my reverie, but I woke to find myself falling as the door in front of me blew apart into a million flying pieces of deadly glass shrapnel and wooden splinters. In an instant everything slowed down to the point where I could see the sunlight sparkle off each individual shard.. or maybe I was still stuck in a dream.

Instinct compelled me to duck and roll away from the shattered door, and with good timing; instantly huge chunks were torn out of the walls toward my direction. As I struggled to maintain my balance, I got to my hands and knees to look at my assailant. A maternal-looking grey-haired lady in a floral blouse came striding out of the room, carrying a high-powered M16 assault rifle in her hands. She turned to stare disdainfully at me.

"Hello you," she spoke, voice dripping with malice.

"Hello grandma. Not quite the welcome I expected, anyhow."

"Well, would you prefer to be garroted to death instead? I've got spare piano wire in my desk drawer."

"Nah, guess not.. traditional doesn't suit me as well as it does you." A smirk.

She fumed and glowered, "You have no business coming here to my school!"

Neither did you have any business sending psycho freaks after my ass, I thought miserably, but I didn't tell her that. I smiled instead. The effect on people is instantaneous, usually. People pulling their children behind them, or walking the other way. Not grandma though. She had a heart of stone - come to think of it, I think her face is chiseled out of it too.

She didn't even flinch. She snickered and said, "You have the smile of your father." I saw her finger squeeze the trigger a little. I didn't want to take the risk (no, I didn't chicken out), so I jumped - and we traded bullets across the hall.

I wished there and then I'd packed some more powerful gear with me. Nothing beats the M16's steady rat-a-tat gunning across a limited expanse in which to move around. Especially if you're the one being shot at. No matter how cool I thought I looked using two handguns, I'd happily trade 'em for an M16 - just for today.

I paused to catch my breath around some smelly lockers. Grandma sure was fit despite being in her seventies. I don't think forcing her into a wheelchair could dampen that insane killing spirit. Which was too bad.

..I don't care, let the real janitor clean that up..

Chancing a glance towards the corridor, I saw spent bullet casings and gaping holes but no grandma. I heard footsteps coming closer. I turned back to make sure my breath was there, then lunged from cover and fired two shots.

But by the time the body hit the floor I realized the janitor wasn't gonna like what he sees when he comes to. I mean, if he does come to - I'd shot the poor bloke by accident.

I went up to him to see if he was alright. As I knelt to check for a pulse, the bastard got up immediately - and lodged a knife in my good foot. As I screamed he turned tail and ran.. I brought my hands up and popped a few slugs into his upper torso, dropping him again.

Now I remember why I hate school besides the friggin' bells! Tugging the knife free I threw it furiously aside and limped to the body. He was still trying to crawl away as he moaned piteously, trying to turn his head to look at me. I didn't give him the luxury. Three bullets in his skull, there and then. I don't care, let the real janitor clean that up.

Outside a car revved and sped off hurriedly. I'd ran/limped outside just in time to see grandma drive off in my car. I sat down for a very long time to do nothing but swear.

Looks like grandma had gotten away. Never mind. I've just got one more loose end to tie down before I can live a free man. One more: a happy father-son reunion before I was free..

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Yesterday was the first and only time I went out to get coffee for myself. Somehow, despite the fact that I should be happy now that three of my major troubles are out of the way, I feel burdened. I can't sleep nights, I can't take a shower without glancing out the bathroom window every few seconds.

It started with the note I'd found on my table one morning. It was written in my handwriting, but I sure didn't remember writing me a note the night before. All it said was, "I'm coming home.", but it sent chills down my spine. It was reminiscent of the behavior of my twin brother.

He'd always been drawn to the esoteric and the strange all his life. It got worse when he was in his teens, when he became a drug addict. He'd admitted the feelings he went through while he was high helped him to forget the harsh, bitter reality of his life. The more involved he became with drugs, the more estranged we became, and eventually he completely disappeared off the face of the map.

What irked me the most that even during mother's funeral, I never saw him around. I could never forgive him for not coming to hold her hand while she lay dying of terminal cancer. In her last days, all she asked for was to see him again - I suppose the knowledge that she never would killed her as much as the cancer did.

But why return to me now? Especially when his name was next on my hit-list?

I was staring blankly at his name when there was a pounding on the door. Three long, three short, just as I'd told friends to when they came calling. Of course, this wasn't just any friend; Martin had helped me in my direst times of need, and I'd been expecting him to come over to tell me about the whereabouts of my brother.

I opened the door and Martin pounced on me like a tiger going for the kill. Caught unawares I somehow found it in me to dodge slightly, and the blade he was clutching sliced cleanly across my cheek instead of across my throat as intended. I was so surprised I couldn't help but scream in pain.

With cat-like grace "Martin" landed on his hands and feet in a crouching position. I realized Martin probably wasn't going to get back to me after all. The man dressed in his bloodstained clothes was my brother.

He stood and turned round to face me. My brother had been strange in the sense that he was every bit a reflection of me. In our childhood, it was unnerving to watch us enter a room and act the exact same way; every subtle nod of the head, every nuance of our laughter.

..I realized Martin probably wasn't going to get back to me after all. The man dressed in his bloodstained clothes was my brother..

Now he was the one smiling, his yellowed teeth bared viciously. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it abruptly, lunging for my exposed throat once more. I grabbed his thrusting hand and threw him behind me with the force of his movement - but just as swiftly I found myself flying over his prone form, slamming hard into the wall behind me.

Through stars and tweeting birds I glimpsed him moving surely for me. I kicked out blindly and caught him in the shin, knocking him to his knees. I went for his face and jammed my thumbs in his eyes, getting a satisfying agonized scream in response. Turns out I was the one screaming instead; I'd looked down to find his dagger stuck in my foot.

He shoved me away and grabbed his face painfully as I fell to the floor, pulling the blade out of myself with a jerk. Grabbing the dusty "Welcome" mat near the front entrance I wrapped it around his head, choking him. In return he slammed his elbows into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

As I tumbled backwards he grabbed a vase off a nearby shelf and smashed it over my head. Knowing $3000 had just been wasted like that hurt me more than my head did. I tried to stand but the room was already spinning around me. Next thing I knew there was a knee in my stomach, crushing my belly and sending me sprawling yet again.

He towered over me gloatingly, coming down to me to place his hands tightly around my throat. I struggled hard but he gripped tighter still. The room spun even more violently around us. Grabbing his face and attempting to push him away, I scratched ferociously at his eyes, watching him open and close them repeatedly to shake me off.

I couldn't breathe.. with one hand I desperately tried to reach for something - anything! - in range to hit him with. My hand closed around the grip of something thin and I thrust it into his face. He squealed like an injured pig, blood spurting out in gushes from his cheek as he stumbled backwards.

As he fell onto the floor, clutching at the remnants of his face, spouting vile obscenities at me, I crawled over his body and stabbed again. I brought my hand down repeatedly, again and again as he shrieked and shuddered and struggled to protect himself. My hands were warm and slick with both our blood, and my shirt was covered in it. Blood splattered with each strike, flowing copiously from his wounds to coat the floor in a thick viscous layer.

By the time I was done I was horrified to see what little remained of my twin brother. It was.. like I'd just killed myself, and my soul was hanging around to see what was done to my body. I fell back and chucked the knife away, still gasping for sweet, sweet air.

Sometime later, I turned painfully, reaching for a small pocket diary that had been knocked off its place in our struggle. I smeared the fourth name in it with a bloody finger, flipping the book shut and gazing at my twin's corpse.

Two more. Just two more to deal with and I'm free..

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The night before I spent my time looking at the stars. I was frightened, to be honest. Most people I've met (and that's not many, I can assure you) express the fullest confidence in me to emerge unscathed. And here I was, sitting out in a field at night freezing my balls off, just 'cause I didn't know with what I was going to kill the ones I'd marked for death - all six of them.

The first one is always the hardest, they say. And I agree. His name was Java, and I hated him. The man was complicated at best, and an unpredictable psychopath at worst. Monday was the day I'd crossed on my calendar to send him packing.

Turns out Java had been expecting me. Clad in a strange mismatch of polka-dot tie and rainbow-striped shirt, with lightning-patterned slacks, it was strange to see everyone around our little meet-up gaze at him in fear. Not one soul laughed. Save me, of course.

True to his belligerent nature, he didn't take it lying down. Right from the outset he jumped for my throat, trying to tear me apart with bare hands. I was wrestling him just to be able to breathe.

Then he'd brandished that little dirk of his out of nowhere - damn near missed my jugular. If you were in my shoes, you could hear the swish of the blade slashing the air. We were that close.

So it was at that moment I knew I couldn't delay any longer. It was a risky move, but it pulled off: I rolled over, taking him with me, then grabbed his head and snapped his neck in one clean jerk.

So one down for the count. I made a little note in the pocket diary I carry around and read off the next name on the hitlist: Mr. Counting, A.C.


This man was even more of a bastard than the one I'd just wasted. He's known for his sharp wit and even sharper razors, little trinkets he'd leave lodged in people's throats for the heck of it. He was due in town on Wednesday.

..I swear Hollywood's part-time job these days is brainwashing kids..

And that day came even faster. The man was dressed to kill; immaculate combed hair, slick jet-black tuxedo with white gloves to boot. He looked every bit the gentleman, until the little shithead started chucking razors at me like some slit-eyed Jap from a Ninja movie. I'd picked a simple brown article to wear. Suddenly I felt like I was grossly under-dressed.

Oh, I'll say he caught me by surprise, sure as sure. Cut clean through my right shoulder here. Another here and here, surface scratches. He threw so many razors with such accuracy that I'll never be able to wear this shirt again.

Then again, what's a shirt when I had to sacrifice my engraved Parker pen for his life? Silver never looked so good sticking out of a man's eye.


This third guy was a tough one. For starters, it's not even a guy. They called her the SADist, and I'll be darned if I couldn't see why. Black tight leather suit, whips, ropes, cuffs.. I swear Hollywood's part-time job these days is brainwashing kids. My.. "date", for want of a better word, with her was on Thursday.

I brought the works, expecting a tough fight. Spent all night studying strategies of attack, planning the approach, memorizing blueprints, street maps, even sewer routes of the shady part of town we planned to "date". I'd brought heavy-duty handguns, grenades, high-powered assault rifles, machine guns, and a four-leaf clover, just waiting and dreading the moment of truth.

Turns out the little slut had been having an affair with the Tuxedo-Razor kid. She'd drank herself almost to death by the time I found her in the river, hours later. Boy, was she a mess - torn suit, wounds and cuts and welts and.. well, let's just say she did more damage to herself than any plastic surgeon could ever hope to hide.

I didn't even bother to waste a bullet. She'd die soon enough, but I wasn't gonna hang around to watch it. I rolled her into the pile of trash she'd so ungracefully collapsed on and left her quickly. On the way home I dumped the guns and ammo in the river.

I was about to pluck the four-leaf clover out of my jacket pocket and throw it too. But I left it there anyway.

With the final three on my tail, I was going to need all the luck I could get.


..three more papers and I'm homefree!..

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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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