Back In Action

After quite sometime ( 2 years to be exact) of non-blogging life, I've decided that to put an end to that. 

      Jayson is back into action! 

However, mostly likely, there won't be much happy news and smileys as sadness and hollowness is what my heart is made up of at the present time. Stay tuned for my story.

17-08-2011 Trip To Ipoh ~PART 1~

17 August 2011 which is also known as the Nuzul Quran is a public holiday in states including 

Perak, Pahang, Terengganu, Kelantan, Perlis, Penang and Selangor. 

Good news for us as we can have a day off and relax ourself in IPOH! 

After Itt Ping took the rental car from the owner, we starts off our journey which is about 10 in the morning~ Jasons, KeWei, Huat Chai is with Ho in Ho's race car(Iswara?!!) Nelson, Kueh, Ah Haur, Billy and Han Boon follows the LOUSY rented Myvi with Itt Ping as the driver.

This is the view of a school on the way to Ipoh and guess what, It looks Awesome! 

When we first arrived in Ipoh area, everyone is complaining about starving. So, the first destination is surely.... SOMEWHERE with FOOD!!!! 

 ~Chee Cheong Fan~

Char Kuey Teoh that is small and expensive =(

Penang Har Mee which is nice and certified as TRUE PENANG TASTE by Jason Eng

On my way back to Ho's car, guess what i saw.....

A CHEVY!!! =)

Tiring Week

OMG! it another tiring tiring week coming =(
tests and drama presentation is coming soon and i dun think that i am well prepared for it...
May God Be With Me... ^^

Tuesday (09/08) Physics Quiz and Physics Lab Test
Wednesday (10/08) Pre-calculus Test
Friday (12/08) Physics Test
Saturday (13/08) Chemistry Test
Monday (15/08) Drama Presentation (English I)

Although a tough week coming, Am happy that i finally got my new Liverpool FC jerseys! =)
Thanks to Nelson for buying them for me.... YNWA

This is me in my new Liverpool FC 3rd Kit... So excited^^

Death by Scrabble- Charlie Fish

It's a hot day and I hate my wife.

     We're playing Scrabble. That's how bad it is. I'm 42 years old, it's a blistering hot Sunday afternoon and all I can think of to do with my life is to play Scrabble.

     I should be out, doing exercise, spending money, meeting people. I don't think I've spoken to anyone except my wife since Thursday morning. On Thursday morning I spoke to the milkman.

     My letters are crap.

     I play, appropriately, BEGIN. With the N on the little pink star. Twenty-two points.

     I watch my wife's smug expression as she rearranges her letters. Clack, clack, clack. I hate her. If she wasn't around, I'd be doing something interesting right now. I'd be climbing Mount Kilimanjaro. I'd be starring in the latest Hollywood blockbuster. I'd be sailing the Vendee Globe on a 60-foot clipper called the New Horizons - I don't know, but I'd be doing something.

     She plays JINXED, with the J on a double-letter score. 30 points. She's beating me already. Maybe I should kill her.

     If only I had a D, then I could play MURDER. That would be a sign. That would be permission.

     I start chewing on my U. It's a bad habit, I know. All the letters are frayed. I play WARMER for 22 points, mainly so I can keep chewing on my U.

     As I'm picking new letters from the bag, I find myself thinking - the letters will tell me what to do. If they spell out KILL, or STAB, or her name, or anything, I'll do it right now. I'll finish her off.

     My rack spells MIHZPA. Plus the U in my mouth. Damn.

     The heat of the sun is pushing at me through the window. I can hear buzzing insects outside. I hope they're not bees. My cousin Harold swallowed a bee when he was nine, his throat swelled up and he died. I hope that if they are bees, they fly into my wife's throat.

<  2  >

     She plays SWEATIER, using all her letters. 24 points plus a 50 point bonus. If it wasn't too hot to move I would strangle her right now.

     I am getting sweatier. It needs to rain, to clear the air. As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I find a good word. HUMID on a double-word score, using the D of JINXED. The U makes a little splash of saliva when I put it down. Another 22 points. I hope she has lousy letters.

     She tells me she has lousy letters. For some reason, I hate her more.

     She plays FAN, with the F on a double-letter, and gets up to fill the kettle and turn on the air conditioning.

     It's the hottest day for ten years and my wife is turning on the kettle. This is why I hate my wife. I play ZAPS, with the Z doubled, and she gets a static shock off the air conditioning unit. I find this remarkably satisfying.

     She sits back down with a heavy sigh and starts fiddling with her letters again. Clack clack. Clack clack. I feel a terrible rage build up inside me. Some inner poison slowly spreading through my limbs, and when it gets to my fingertips I am going to jump out of my chair, spilling the Scrabble tiles over the floor, and I am going to start hitting her again and again and again.

     The rage gets to my fingertips and passes. My heart is beating. I'm sweating. I think my face actually twitches. Then I sigh, deeply, and sit back into my chair. The kettle starts whistling. As the whistle builds it makes me feel hotter.

     She plays READY on a double-word for 18 points, then goes to pour herself a cup of tea. No I do not want one.

     I steal a blank tile from the letter bag when she's not looking, and throw back a V from my rack. She gives me a suspicious look. She sits back down with her cup of tea, making a cup-ring on the table, as I play an 8-letter word: CHEATING, using the A of READY. 64 points, including the 50-point bonus, which means I'm beating her now.

<  3  >

     She asks me if I cheated.

     I really, really hate her.

     She plays IGNORE on the triple-word for 21 points. The score is 153 to her, 155 to me.

     The steam rising from her cup of tea makes me feel hotter. I try to make murderous words with the letters on my rack, but the best I can do is SLEEP.

     My wife sleeps all the time. She slept through an argument our next-door neighbours had that resulted in a broken door, a smashed TV and a Teletubby Lala doll with all the stuffing coming out. And then she bitched at me for being moody the next day from lack of sleep.

     If only there was some way for me to get rid of her.

     I spot a chance to use all my letters. EXPLODES, using the X of JINXED. 72 points. That'll show her.

     As I put the last letter down, there is a deafening bang and the air conditioning unit fails.

     My heart is racing, but not from the shock of the bang. I don't believe it - but it can't be a coincidence. The letters made it happen. I played the word EXPLODES, and it happened - the air conditioning unit exploded. And before, I played the word CHEATING when I cheated. And ZAP when my wife got the electric shock. The words are coming true. The letters are choosing their future. The whole game is - JINXED.

     My wife plays SIGN, with the N on a triple-letter, for 10 points.

     I have to test this.

     I have to play something and see if it happens. Something unlikely, to prove that the letters are making it happen. My rack is ABQYFWE. That doesn't leave me with a lot of options. I start frantically chewing on the B.

<  4  >

     I play FLY, using the L of EXPLODES. I sit back in my chair and close my eyes, waiting for the sensation of rising up from my chair. Waiting to fly.

     Stupid. I open my eyes, and there's a fly. An insect, buzzing around above the Scrabble board, surfing the thermals from the tepid cup of tea. That proves nothing. The fly could have been there anyway.

     I need to play something unambiguous. Something that cannot be misinterpreted. Something absolute and final. Something terminal. Something murderous.

     My wife plays CAUTION, using a blank tile for the N. 18 points.

     My rack is AQWEUK, plus the B in my mouth. I am awed by the power of the letters, and frustrated that I cannot wield it. Maybe I should cheat again, and pick out the letters I need to spell SLASH or SLAY.

     Then it hits me. The perfect word. A powerful, dangerous, terrible word.

     I play QUAKE for 19 points.

     I wonder if the strength of the quake will be proportionate to how many points it scored. I can feel the trembling energy of potential in my veins. I am commanding fate. I am manipulating destiny.

     My wife plays DEATH for 34 points, just as the room starts to shake.

     I gasp with surprise and vindication - and the B that I was chewing on gets lodged in my throat. I try to cough. My face goes red, then blue. My throat swells. I draw blood clawing at my neck. The earthquake builds to a climax.

     I fall to the floor. My wife just sits there, watching.

Keys Locks And Open Doors

"Quiet the dog, house the pony and bar the doors against the dark." Each night we heard and obeyed Pa's telling and each morning we woke safe, forgetting the terrors of the night in the new sun's warm shine and our breakfast bread. Then Ma sickened bad and Pa carted her to Biddy Makepeace's for a laying on of hands. "Remember," he instructed Rory, "Be sure and lock up tight come nightfall." "I promise faithful Pa," I heard my oldest brother say. But come the dark he was out sparking Lucy Lovedance and Sim was left in charge. And Sim paid no heed to tellings. "Waste of time, locking every door. Sick of pissing in pee-pots, me. And double sick of cleaning them each morn." I begged him do as our father said, but he only laughed, did Sim. So I took the bairns to bed with me, making certain sure my door was locked and the shutters firmly barred. And in the morning on rising to oven the bread I found the outer door wide open and no sight nor sign of Sim. When Rory rolled in lazy eyed and rough I told him all and he went in search. Was still out when Pa 'rived home at noon. I recounted Pa the tale and he heard me out grim faced, but shook his head when I asked if he was going hunting for our Sim. "No point," he said. "Now get the dinner served." Rory came back as we were finishing the stew. Pa cuffed him hard about the head and wouldn't let him speak or eat the portion I'd kept by. Then Pa coughed and cleared his throat, and when we looked at him he told us Ma had died with the sinking of the day. Padre Filton had her resting in the church, he said, to be dug in on the morrow. Then he handed me the ring of household keys. And Rory watched all squint eyed and pinched, knowing that by rights as eldest they should have passed to him. I held on to the keys, my two hands fighting the cold heavy weight that tried to drag them to the beaten earth. And as I clutched them so I studied them. I saw that each key large or small was welded firmly to the iron circlet. I held there in my hands the keys to every chest and every door within Pa's holding. They were my responsibility till Father relieved me of the charge. I was now the guardian, he said, seeing as I had a mind to keep the young 'uns safe and obey his words full strength, unlike some who should know better.
<>
At first light Pa stowed the spades and lifted the girls into the cart. May took charge of the reins while me and Pa and Rory walked holding to the sides. When we reached the graveyard me and Pa and Rory took turns to open up the flinty ground while the bairns ranged about for pretties to place inside the grave. Then Pa and Padre placed her in. Padre said the binding words, my three sisters mewling and moaning and dropping in daisy buds onto the muslin shroud. Then my brother and I filled back the gritty soil and watched Pa and Padre Filton lay the blessed ironstone slab athwart her lying place to keep her safe. And when it was all done and Pa had paid the burial toll we set out straight for home. This time Eve and Silence held the reins and all else walked to save the ageing mule. Once home I warmed the stew pot and we ate. After food Pa and Rory worked the land while I, with my sisters' help, cleaned and sewed and baked. At day's end Pa watched to see how I locked the doors and shutters against the coming of the night and nodded satisfied when I had it done. And that night with the keys hard beneath my thin flock pillow, I heard the voices clearly for the first time. They sounded loud and plain outside my shuttered window abegging me to open up and come to them. And one of the voices was my brother Sim's. Another sounded lighter, like my Ma's. But mindful of my father's words I held to the keys and kept the shutters barred. And gradually the voices drifted quiet and sleep took me down. And ever after it was as if Ma and Sim had never been. Pa never spoke of them and turned aside all questions and he never spoke again to Rory save for yes and no. After a month of this silence Rory left to marry Lucy Makepeace and spend his strength in her father's flourmill. I watched Pa's face set harder, carven lines of wrinkles digging valley's in his leathered skin and I went outside all day to take my brother's work-share then cooked and baked all eve. My sister May took duty for the house and twins all day.
<>
From the very time that Rory left our home Pa shifted all his custom to Marlin's mill. Though being over in the next valley it was a longer trek to take the grain and the mule was far from strong. For me, most nights, the voices came; the voices Pa said were only in my head. He gave me quintain boiled in honey to make me sleep but the taste was harsh and cast a dullness over me the following day. But I pretended to drink to keep from causing strife. And my questions grew, filling my brain to bursting point till at last I took my thoughts to Padre Filton in the secrecy of Disclosing Hour. He refused to look me in the eye and talked of devils and temptations. Then he broke the holy pact and betrayed the questions to my Pa. And Pa bound my mouth with garlic cloth and he beat me till my skin was bruised and split and snatched back the keys till I could walk again. And with the keys in Pa's hands I found that I slept quiet, nights. I heard no sounds, quested not for dimly recognised voices, but only slept soft sleep. When I was fit again he gave me back my guardianship of the keys and the first night I slept upon their bulk I heard scratchings at my wooden shutters and the moaning of what might have been the wind. At first light on going to the running spring to cleanse my chamber pot I walked the long way round, past my chamber window and saw score marks bit deep into the ebony-wood shutters. I felt the chill of night come on me despite the warming of the sun. But I kept my counsel and Pa had replaced the wood by noon. That night I kept the dog inside my room, putting him at the foot of my bed. And though I heard a lone voice keening and crying out my name the dog he didn't stir. The weeks turned and I learned to sleep with stopping in my ears. May and the bairns cast off their childhood with frightening speed and Pa rarely spoke outside the meeting house and took to reading sermon books. But I would not go to meetings any more and Pa ignored my backsliding. As long as I did my work and kept safety on my mind he seemed satisfied.
<>
Then Widow Range took sick. She and her daughter lived a scant two fields away from us and Tildy asked my help to nurse her and Pa said I was to go. So I gave him back the keys and went to sit with Tildy. But like my Ma the widow sank fast and died swift as the sun did sink. Tildy begged for me to go to church with her and stand vigil till the morn and I went with her and Padre Filton into the church as night fell down upon us. That long night passed in dull-dead numbing coldness. I heard no outside sounds, no moans no skirl of wind but only the praying padre thanking his god for the ironwood and ironstone that kept us safe from harm. We buried Widow Range, like Ma, soon as we could when the sun had risen above the mountains. Me and Tildy did the digging but it took all three of us to drag the heavy holding stone across the grave. Padre wore his leather gauntlets but me and Tildy had to do without, and sore rough bleeding work it was. But still he took the full toll into his strong-gloved hands when the burial was done. He then took us in his wagon and dropped us to our homes as he went on his praying rounds. And that night with the keys once again beneath my head I heard voices calling in the dark and the loudest one sounded like the Widow Range. I took care to go to Meeting with Pa and the bairns the next meeting morn but left the service before time, pleading my bowels. I walked then to Widow Range's grave and saw her capping stone was out of line. I'd helped lay it and knew full well it was not the same. And now, tonight, I sit and wait the voices. My shutters are opened wide, my bedroom door unlocked, my binding keys thrown deep within the spring. The house is open to what may come and I am also ready. I will heed this call. I will leave the confines of my father's house and join that which waits outside. And as I go I call to the bairns, my sisters, to come and join the free.

QUIZ!!!!

Juz finished my Physics Quiz yesterday and i somehow not sure about the answer for the last question... ZZZ... a bit confusing as i dont know which formula to use.... Meanwhile, Pre-Calculus had finished today... Too easy i would say but nothing is guaranteed until the scores have been confirmed.... Well Done for the Quizzes! =)

爸爸，請回家

這是艷陽高照的好天氣，窗外的陽光靜靜地篩進來，這麼美好的一天，我們可以談的可以是爬山、遊泳或到郊外踏青，但這10歲的孩子卻告訴我一個嚴肅的話題：“老師，為甚麼我爸爸還不願回家？”

然後，男孩開始責罵那不讓父親回家的女人：“老師，我多麼生氣，她不是好女人，不讓爸爸回家。”我不能置信地望著眼前的男孩，屬於成人複雜的恩怨情仇，他懂多少了呢？

自從有外遇，男孩的父親刻意與他保持距離，唯有在距離里，他才不需要負任何責任，甚至可以不聞不問。

“或者，你可以打電話給爸爸，請他回家。”我向男孩建議。

“我有，但爸爸好像故意不聽我電話。”男孩沮喪地說。

不知為甚麼，看到男孩哀愁的眼神時，我很傷痛，並很想替男孩打電話給他的爸爸，誠懇地請他回家，哪怕是陪男孩談談天，下下棋或者吃一頓飯。

或者是看到太多流淚的孩子，又或者看到太多家庭悲劇，我一直對婚姻的第三者，存有太多不諒解，他們或者無法理解自己的介入，對一個家或對小孩構成的傷害。我無法認同婚外的兩情相悅，正如我無法認同女人拉著一個有家室的男人，千方百計地不讓他回家。

老師，爸爸會回心轉意嗎？

常常，這男孩的小事被我提起，記著，他會感到被理解，並輕輕地附在老師耳邊笑著說：“以前，爸爸也是這樣說我。”男孩一直想從回憶中，把以前的好爸爸拼湊出來。

“儘管爸爸暫時出走，他其實還是我的好爸爸。”

這久長的歲月，我一直從孩童的身上，學到許多寶貴的東西，他們好像常擁抱著希望，希望多得像綻滿天空的星星，因此，我知道這孩子的希望是父親可以回家。

這孩子其實已打開溫暖的家門，迎接一個肯回家的父親。

“老師，爸爸會回心轉意嗎？”男孩突然問我。

我其實可以用更婉轉的說法，讓男孩放棄對父親回家的希望。

但是，我沒有，我告訴他：“會的。”對不可預知卻充滿可能性的未來，父親肯回到家，其實是可能的。

男孩的嘴角有了笑意，為著老師的話，也為著那希望。

其實，老師和他同樣抱著一個希望：希望他的爸爸早日回家。

我很疼愛這男孩，因此，每當我看到這孩子眼裡的淚水時，我都有一個衝動，想為我根本不認識的男女打一通電話，我想告訴那或者以為自己在愛著的女人：“請把父親和丈夫還給別人。”然後，我也想告訴那父親：“請你把幸福還給你家庭。”

愛情是不是叫人太迷惘，不計後果的深情一往，許多時候是讓我們失去，多於獲得。至少，從男孩的哭訴中，我知道他失去一個叫父親的男人。

（星洲日報／副刊‧文：關悅涓）