Why...?

To be given too much time to do something, to procrastinate by doing this totally unrelated to the given task, then kicking it into superhigh gear to only barely finish the assignment and recieve a lower than desired mark. Yes, that is my destiny.

I have a qwerk. I have a tendency to see something, to be immensely passionate about it for roughly.... two weeks. Then, my interest evaporates like ethanol on an Egyptian sidewalk. This is known to be a trait of Geminis (to all you Geminis out there saying "hey, that's not true...", I'm not stating this to be Gospel truth. My Horoscope has been wrong more than it's been right). It is also a trait of the people born in the Lunar Year of the Horse. Unluckily, I happen to be both. That's a double threat, kinda like spraying NH3 onto a stale piss soaked rag, and then letting it air-dry. Indoors. With no fans.

A good example of the qwerks I get is the time when a few of my friends and I decided to make a whole deck of playing cards from thin cardboard, art bloc, masking tape and clear tape. Suffice to say that as soon as the tedious treating of the individual cards began, we quickly dropped the project. How did we do it? It's quite simple, really. Just draw the card's face on the artblock, get some school glue, glue those together, put masking tape on the other side of the cardboard, and put clear tape on both sides to protect it. Refer to the below diagram.

The next obsession I had was writing a novel. I actually got to the 50th page before running dry on ideas. The actual contents still play in my mind once in awhile, and I intend to finish that, more for myself than for others. That being said, in this small period of self-awareness, doubt that I will ever get myself to sit down and write. It is with some deliberation that I bring your attention to my newest passion.

Paintball.

Yes, paintball. It hurts no more than a rat tail and is loads more fun. I have scoured the Internet and have spent hours researching everything there is to know about paintball. Positions, terminology, styles of competitive play, equipment, rules in competition. The list goes on. My idea to build a bolt action paintball marker to increase effective range, speed and accuracy was, as I believed, new. However, even on Youtube, I've found no less than 4 bolt action paintball markers, just for the cool factor. The engineering aspects of the changes to the usual marker that I had planned were physically sound. The main problem was that all guns have to be capped at below 300 feet per second. What this meant was that despite my want to create a paintball sniper, and ability to, I would not be able to use it, because of regulation of maximum speed. Now, some of you may be going: "Why?" Well, because of the extreme nature of paintballing, everyone has to wear goggles which protect their eyes and face. The goggles are only rated for 285 feet per second, so any faster than that, and the paintball could shatter the goggle and hit you in the eye. Thus, even adding a 64 cubic inch tank, rifling, a bolt action reload mechanism and a scope will not make it any more accurate than it already is because of the speed limit (except maybe the rifling).

So, with my dreams dashed, all I have left is the know-how to play basic paintball. I could still potentially go and play it.

Keep your feet on the ground!

-Gabe

Musically, ...

To each his own; different strokes for different folks; one man's poison is another man's meat, all of these signify taste. While there are some who blindly cling onto what they believe is the best, I find it is always good to take a walk and see life from the other side of the fence, to walk in another's shoes.

As per the title, I will divulge in my personal musical preferences and other things musical, from Avenged Sevenfold to Bach, from Metallica to Beethoveen, from Louis Armstrong to Switchfoot. You can probably already tell my taste in music is... wide. Personally, the music I listen to is influenced by many factors, friends for example. The more modern music was introduced to me by my friends. However, I can scarcely imagine anyone under the age of 26 who likes Satchmo' or Arty Shaw. In that respect, I am something of an anomaly. Classical music is timeless, yes, but Jazz is somewhat an aquired taste. At first, I myself did not like it, perhaps because of its over rambunctiousness. Soon, though, I came to see it as lively, and energetic without all the rage of rock music.

Maybe, just maybe you did not notice any pop music or R&B. While I do not find them offensive or inappropriate, the styles just don't possess any sort of hold on me. The obvious beats are good for dancers, whom rely on the beat of the music for timing. Pop music, on the other hand, has improved. I don't object to the music itself, but it's the performers whom I dislike. Too much time and money has been wasted on reporting on every single qwerk of theirs, from winks to eyelash flirts to who is dating whom, and so on and so forth. It's appalling how the young generation (that's mine) fawn over the singers of today.

Classical music is, without a doubt, the most beautiful of the styles of music. Rock will cause your head to bob up and down, and Metal causes blood to rush through your veins as if you hooked your heart to a 747 engine. Jazz will lift you out of a deep dark hole of depression and somber you up. However, only Classical can show you a piece of your soul, no matter who the composer is. Somehow, if you stop, listen, and look within, you come into contact with a part of you that perhaps you didn't know existed. Bach's Tocatta and Fugue in D minor for Organ summons the sinister, which is not entirely evil, however; instead of being wholly evil, it is a complex characteristic, with darker motives. Mozart's Eine Kleine Nachtmuzik brings forth the gentleman, the formal socialite. He creeps me out. Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus" in his Oratorio "Messiah" evokes the image of salvation and light, themes that I personally love. Beethoveen's 9th Symphony "Choral", more commonly known as "Ode to Joy", is about how all men are brothers. I can't name the feeling that is brought out by this. The music is both majestic and humble, both magnificient and yet simple enough for the uninitiated to appereciate. The original version in German is not coarse as the language is; it is forceful without being overbearing; harmonious and accented.  It is one of my favourite pieces.

Whether or not you agree with me, let us agree on this: music is inseperable from the world from which it is wrought. With the world as it is, is it any surprise that popular music is about almost nothing but sex, drugs, and the overemphasis on having romantic relationships? It is a world that must be changed by us, the youth of today, the kings of tomorrow.

The pen is mightier than the sword, and it is the pen I wield. . .

-Gabe

The MSFI

You may have noticed my irrational and unexplained disdain of the MSFI. If you went to school with or as the same place as me, you'd understand. To all you else, however, there is explaining to be done.

You see, education (I'm using the politically correct term here) is compulsory in Malaysia, with every parent having to enroll their child into primary school at the age of 7. It is also not uncommon for parents to enroll their children in pre-schools or kindergardens. My parents did so, and I was more or less used to being away from my parents by the time I got into Primary school.

That's right, primary school. That's sorta a combination of Elementary and the first two years of Middle school to anyone who doesn't understand that.

So, Primary school was terrible, if you wanna know. Why? Well, that's for me to know and you to try to pry it out of me. Either way, I got out of Primary school and into Secondary school. Kind of a 'duh' transition, isn't it? Anyway, Secondary school was a crapload more fun, mainly because of the freedom I got, in more ways than one. School was fun. Wow. I can't believe I said that.

Back to the reason I don't like the education system. I enjoyed myself as much as possible in school, but the classes. Holy crap, you cannot possibly imagine the depths of idiocy of the people I have had to call 'teacher'. Don't believe me? Try this. A Physics "teacher" who doesn't teach Physics, instead rants about how we don't give him enough respect, how we should save the world by turning off the fans while in sweltering heat, the lights before daybreak, to somehow "save diesel", and that the resources used are not renewable, and how the world is going to be destroyed by energy shortage. All this in the space of an hour and fifteen minutes. "Oh, I was just about to start teaching, but my time's up! See you next class!" It's no wonder everyone, even the bootlickers, boycotted his class.

That might have been an extreme case, but there are other reasons. Racist teachers, for example. I, personally, have never gotten less than an A in English. The first 3 years secondary school I kept my record. Then, when I was in Form 4 (age:16), I got perhaps the most discriminatory teacher I have ever faced. I wrote an essay, and when I had it returned, I was in for the shock of my life. A 'B'! I've never gotten a 'B' for English before. I complained to her, showing her my supposed 'bad grammar' that was in actuality only in intransitive passive voice. As if she needed a reason to rob me of my 'A'. I looked at my classmate's papers, people who had never gotten a credit for English before. Lo and behold, it had an 'A' on it. I read through his essay; it was incoherent, laced with grammatical errors like poison in a cyanide pill, and the spelling almost lead me to believe that truth was spelled with two 'H's, so frequent was the mistake. And yet, only the most severe and unmistakable of the errors was pointed out. The difference between him and me? The day we pray, him on Friday and me on Sunday.

 At first, I thought that she was only dangling a carrot on a stick, attempting to drive me to excel. It is worth noting that at this point, my Asian friends had the same grades as me. I read their's over, as well. Although I agreed with the mistakes made grammatically, I did not agree with the grade. All thing through time, they say. In time, I saw what it was: a personal vendetta against all who prayed to a different God or had a different tone of skin. Some people really just can't see past the things that divide us and look at the things that unite us instead. It's really something I can barely wrap my head around.

However bleak I have depicted it, the MSFI has employed some good people. Even fools must sometimes be right by mistake, I suppose. Some of the teachers I've had are intelligent, willing to share knowledge and passionate. It's not good to lock any group into a stereotype, because stereotypes destroy individuality. 

All that is yours is rightfully mine, and mine it will be. . .

-Gabe