Invent a character who owns these things. Write up to 250 words about the character, incorporating some of the subjects into your description.

Leather jacket
Business card
Dusty radio
Silver locket with inscription
Bottle of herbal medicine
Rugby ball
Fortune – telling cards
Jar of sharpened pencils
Brand new laptop

And I'll be using....

Dusty radio
Leather jacket
Bottle of herbal medicine
Fortune - telling cards
Silver locket with inscriptions

Robert just came back from wondering around aimlessly. He has always been like that ever since last year. Closing the door, he removed his leather jacket and hung it on the closet. He ran his eyes to the brownish garment. He remembered how Susan gave the piece to him for his birthday two years before. They were walking back from having a romantic dinner over the Chinese restaurant this one night when they happened to pass through this boutique full of jackets. He was thrilled over the abundance of the garments but rather disappointed for being quite broke that day to buy himself a new cloth. Little did he know how his girlfriend secretly fixing her eyes on the piece he liked and went to the store the next day to make the purchase. And when his birthday arrived that weekend, Susan never surprised him more with a present wrapped in hearts-shaped wrapper, revealing the jacket he wanted so badly when he opened his present.

“Uhuk uhuk!” Robert’s drifted mind came back to reality. He was coughing rather heavily for the past few days. He had been exposing himself thoughtlessly under the rain that it affected his health rather profoundly. If you are his friends you wouldn’t recognize him as of late as he had lost a lot of weight. He was very skeleton-like these days. There was this one day when he coughed out blood he had to run to the sink. His dwindling health bothered his mother so much she gave him a bottle of herbal medicine and constantly forced him to swallow the thing. It was for his own good. Ever since the incident, he had lost faith on the modern medicine. Not that he could help it, though. Heaving a deep sigh, he stared blankly on the label of the medicine. It was from his mother. He loved her more than anything in this world. But he just couldn’t bring himself to sanity. Not now. Not after what he had gone through.

Suddenly he felt the cold on his chest. He brought his hands to his shirt and clasped them tightly. Inside, hung over his neck was a silver locket with inscription, all too nostalgic for him to take it off. It was from her. If you flip it open you will see the picture of the two of them, with ‘I Love You’ written at the bottom of the picture. They both made it each for one another during their 5th anniversary. He remembered how both of them pledge the oath to be loyal, till death do us part. But now?

He was snapped back to reality. He wandered around the room, looking emptily the surrounding of the room. Something caught his attention. He fixed his eyes on the drawer. There was something on top of it. Suddenly he moved towards the article. He picked up a card laid dusty on the drawer. It was a fortune – telling card. He trembled in sadness. He remembered how the card told them how they would live ‘happily ever after’. How Susan beaming with joy and hugged him tightly. And how he embraced Susan lovingly to everyone’s jealousy. They couldn’t be bothered that moment. They were deeply in love. So much so that they were not spared of murmurs from the passers-by who were obviously green with envy over their intimacy. He breathed out a long sigh. Look at him now. All messed up. Unkempt, with distorted health. Alone. Was this supposedly be the translation of the ‘happily ever after?’

He laughed at the card and crumpled it hard. He threw the card away. It hit a radio. ‘Oh my..’ Robert charged towards the radio. He clutched the radio into his hands only to see the pile of dusts covering all over the radio. He blew the dust away and rubbed it off, revealing a small grayish radio. His eyes began to water. The radio…Yes the radio made him to remember their first dating together. It was 7 years ago. They were both young and carefree. Jane, Susan’s friend introduced him to Susan. Robert didn’t blink an eye when he first met her. Susan brightly blushed. It was love at first sight. When they first went out together, they held a picnic over the lake. He brought the radio to impress Susan with a collection of love songs he had with his CDs. He remembered how the two of them spent the evening knowing one another with songs all too romantic for their background. It was like a theme song. He smiled nostalgically over the memory. But those were the days.

Today, here he was, all alone and in despair over Susan’s death a year ago. She was diagnosed with breast cancer and was too late to sought the treatment. Robert blamed himself more than anyone for not noticing the changes Susan had shown him over the years. Susan, loving him more than herself, didn’t have the heart to tell Robert of her disease. She didn’t want Robert to worry sick over her. And Robert continued to be cheerful and making antics, believing that Susan was all too happy with him. How ignorant he was! He blamed himself thoroughly. He was bitter even since Susan’s death. Susan died without him knowing the reason all along! He felt very guilty. He sat beside the radio and turned it on. The song blared from the radio. And it all went back to him. He burst into tears. ‘Forgive me, Susan…’

Literally speaking, it’s my 23rd time celebrating Ramadhan as a Muslim homo sapiens. Yet as far as being in UiTM is concerned, it’s my 6th. And now here in Section 17, it’s only the 3rd time. Talk about dwindling numbers eyh? Not quite. Fasting month I regard as the ‘flushing’ month where THIS is the time for me to flush down not only the detrimental eating habit, but also to kick away bad habits I otherwise casually portray during every other month. Generally speaking, fasting month does not really equal to money-saving month since being the ever-gluttony me; I find it inevitable not to spend lavishly on the seemingly scrumptious food I am yet to taste. Talk about being deceived by the eye candy!

Ramadhan is especially a melancholic month for me to reflect on the less fortunate people whom barely have food on their table. And it sadden me to witness how the riches tend to spend unnecessarily, attending the ‘buka puasa’ feast and all in 5-star hotel, oblivious and all too proud of themselves to be more grateful and more philanthropic to the rags. It is also the time for me to reminisce on what I am left of the memory of fasting with my late dad. It is quite heartbreaking since I barely remember anything related to Ramadhan while he was around. And it is even mellow to bear in mind how after Ramadhan, the Syawal is taking over. And instead of celebrating the winning against the ‘nafsu’, my family and I would pay respect to my father’s grave and dedicating Yasin to him for his well-being in the afterlife.

A lot of people say that Ramadhan is the time where you would tone down yourself in respect of the holiness it conveys. Though the idea is there, I am quite skeptics over people who pledge such oath ONLY during this Ramadhan. If it’s for the good cause, why not prolong it? This I find to be disturbing since out of the blue some people tend to be more decent than the word decent itself only to resort to being their old self as soon as the month is over. This is why I dare not promise anything till I am fully ready to take the plunge into the better kind. This is just my opinion, though. I don’t want to end up being labeled as hypocrite when I only want to show respect to someone or something, while still wanting to retain my identity.

As of late, well, since a long time ago till now I think that the food sellers are actually taking advantage over the customers. The advantage-taking is either in the form of bad-tasted food they sell, or simply by the rather drastic cutting of the portion of the food they would otherwise provide in larger serving during any other month. Are such actions justified, if the holiness of Ramadhan is to be taken into consideration? I guess that’s just how the food sellers operate these days. Even through this seemingly subtle fact one could decipher how people DON’T really change during Ramadhan. Profit-motivated put aside, another disturbing fact revolves around the food sellers would inevitably be the balance of the unsold food to which most probably end up in the drain or in the garbage bin. What a waste! To think that people all around the world are starving to no end, eating barely for survival, and here the food sellers casually throw away the now useless items of their selling. There is the truth and the virtue in not keeping the stuffs for longer than its edibility, but at least could you not donate the food and ensure it goes to the more needy stomach rather than of the bin? I guess I could never be a food seller myself if I stay with this kind of thinking.

To talk about fasting in UiTM in particular, studying in Lendu provided me with experiences money can’t buy, with great friends I would never trade for any other thing. Being in Lendu for 3 years brought about different kind of fasting experience. To start with, in my freshman year there, we first had the dining hall where foods were provided for free. How it was all still fresh to me how my friends and I would go walking up the hilly terrain to where the dining was located for our sahur meal. How I missed the ‘akak2’ who were in charge of the food. How we built rapport with them with us standing out over the rest. It never fails to make me laugh whenever I would think of the old days.

Being the ever-sentimental me, I relate each experience to the previous. In other words, I never view this Ramadhan in isolation. I would reminisce it to the previous Ramadhan I had had and stored in my memory vault all the archives of the memories I would treasure for the rest of my life. And being a person who could not live off by myself (though I am very much independent), I inevitably cling to those memories for it is indeed a constant source of inspiration to my life and will never fail to be one. To befriend me is to befriend my friend as well. However twisted I may look on the outside, the only thing that differentiate between me and the others is the way I carry myself. As with previous Ramadhan, I would be grateful enough if I could live off this Ramadhan with my family and friends in peace and harmony. Let us pledge to uphold the divinity of this month and together carving even better memories each year. Happy Ramadhan Al-Mubarak.

Picture taken from here.


Pinocchio o Pinocchio!
Carved out of wood you came to life
With all the hypes and rife
Giving the life to life.

Pinocchio o Pinocchio!
You taught me the greatest lesson in life
To not lie or your nose be elongated
As prove of the deception one created
Inescapable, having to admit one was defeated.

Pinocchio o Pinocchio!
Your wish to become human is all too noble
You strife and thrive and struggle
Purest heat and yet get entangled
Yet still you weren’t left baffled.

Pinocchio o Pinocchio!
You inspired me to pledge nothing but truth
Albeit the oohs and boos.

Pinocchio o Pinocchio!
You’re a doll but all too real
To us human good qualities you reveal
To the kids you set noble ideal
To the world you provide emotional appeal.

Pinocchio o Pinocchio!
You’re incomparable to a troll
To me you’re everything but a doll
You’re my favorite once and for all.

My reading ‘career’ as a child began when my late dad made it a tradition for us his breeds to read the newspapers for headlines and whatnot. Of course, among the newspapers were English newspapers. That was his method of encouraging us to read and making sense of what we read. Inevitably, language proficiency, especially in the reading department, was trained as early as those times.

But then, my dad’s life was short-lived. He died on the 9th of January, 1995 at our home after he drove all the way from the hospital just to be at home. I guess he knew it himself that his time was about up. That’s what my mum often told me in the first few years of his death. I was especially hurt over the fact that he died when I was still at the school (He died in the morning while I were having my morning session). Don’t ask me why I went to school that day – I guess, as a kid (I was only 10 years old), I didn’t quite understand this life and death situation. But I remember visiting my dad with the rest of the family in Hospital Sentosa, where he was hospitalized for his asthma. He died of acute bronchial asthma. How could I forget the disease.

From then onwards, I was no longer under the supervision of a fatherly figure I could look up to. Gone were the days where I would have to read the news and report it back to him upon his questioning. Making matters worse, my older brothers and sister were all in boarding school during those years. Inevitably, I had to be the guardian of my younger brothers while my mum went for sewing course, took up her driver’s license at the age of 41, and started to raise us up like hell. There were no relatives who sincerely lent us their helping hands. There were times when we barely had food on our table. As my mum went out for her job, I had to stay at home and baby-sit my then 4 years old and 2 years old brothers respectively. With the strain of time even for myself to go out and made a fool out of me, apparently I was left with no spare time to read.

If my dad’s life was short-lived (he died at the age of 42), so did my reading ‘career’. I could vaguely remember what kind of books I read and where did I read it at. It was as if the death of my father left a HUGE hole in my heart as I longed for the love and affection from a fatherly figure even till now. So pardon me should I at present read CONSIDERABLY lesser book(s) and at slower rate. My childhood just was not the same as most of the others.

Still, I manage to find fascination in reading, despite starting out considerably late – like, during my secondary school years. So, my advice is, “Better late than never”. Why did I have the heart to say that? Believe me. I’ve ‘been there, and done that”.

Owh, by the way, the novels that managed to capture my attention would be the Agatha Christie's and her detective. I took great interest in how Mr. Hercule M. Poirot solved the case and no matter how I tried to put on my so-called detective hat, I always end up being amused by how the story is resolved in the end. Kudos to Mrs. Agatha! You've inspired me alright.

Pictures taken from here and here.

Almost everyone writes. And they write with various purposes in mind. Be it for casualties, businesses and whatnot. I too am included in those categories. YES, I write.

Just as other writers, I too face difficulties when I write. The problem famously dubbed as “writer’s block”. From my personal experience, the ultimate problem is putting the thoughts into words. More often than not, my train of thought often went berserk and going off-course. At the moment of writing this, the train is starting to derail. Beats me.

Putting thoughts into words are as hard as sewing the bits of clothes together to make a decent garment. There’s the problem of finding the right thread, and also the right technique to pull it off in one piece. Similarly, the analogy applies to writing. Knowing how to write technically is just insufficient. Should care is not exercised diligently, a writer could still nevertheless come up with a piece of word art. The question is, is the word of art is of any sense?

Yes, making sense of your writing is very much revolved around HOW WELL you put your thoughts into words. From my personal experience, every other time the bulb in my head does spark with ideas. Then I start to feel the sensation of ideas pouring out profusely. Naturally, I SHOULD be starting to jot it down to grab the ideas FRESH from the oven. Unfortunately, this is so very not the case. Usually, I tend to dilly-dally; blindly believing I could restore the pour and throw it out on the piece of paper. And more often than not, what happens is when I actually take the pleasure to sit down and start writing, I find that only tiny crumbs of the whole bread remain. This information gap syndrome I’m having may not be alien, yet my extraction ‘device’ is so inefficient. So I end up with a good underlying idea I WISH to convey from the title, and a worse and even worse produce throughout the story.

Apart from that, I also possess a negative trait which I shall describe as ‘the grass is greener on the other side” syndrome. YES I do have it. The trait often pokes my rib into reading other writers’ stuffs meticulously and searching for their word usages. Then I start to compare them with my own. How they arrange their thoughts into words NEVER fail to strike the jealousy out of me. So I often end up in ridiculing my own piece, remark it as rubbish, and helplessly feel inferior for having it produced by my very own hands.

It is not that I cannot write decently; it’s the utter nonsense of PERFECTION that I seek for in my writings that I couldn’t stop from comparing my works with others, and start to appreciate my capabilities and limitations.

To ‘recount’ the whole experience altogether, it is of no wonder that I often end up with exhaustion in each and every writing attempt – as if I am competing for the triathlon or something. No wonder as well since it is, after all, a MIND GAME. Mind over matters, they say.

This new semester means MUCH to me. First and foremost would be the fact that this is the 11th semesters for me in UiTM. Talk about being in UiTM for FIVE(5) and a half years already! I feel OLD. Literally.

I started joining UiTM when I was 18 like the rest of the crew. Yet I shall leave the premise when I am 25, in the year of 2010. You are wondering, "Why THAT long?". And "ARE you taking medicine?" Allow me to deliberate.

I started off my varsity life taking a Diploma in Business Studies - and you got it WRONG when you say such a business-minded person I was. I WASN'T. To the question of "By chance, or by choice?", it would definitely be the former to the poor me.

So WHY Tesl now? GOOD question. I surely didn't think of it OVERNIGHT. It took me a bloody 3 years in anticipation, weighing the highs and the lows, and remain steadfast in my decision - which I believe to be a difficult thing to do considering the fact that people CHANGE all the time. I guess I didn't.

STOP now. This has drifted off from the TITLE. Please consider the above 'excerpts' as the history.

Coming back to the topic of new semester, I am not sure HOW new is it, or it will be. When you're in some field for too long, you tend to regard every new semester as the SAME. Same duty, same load, and perhaps...same old new DRAMA. Tada! Presenting the never-ending telenovela! NOT.

This NEW semester means a whole new thing especially for me given the fact that MY batch - the June 2003 ones had graduated from their bachelor's degrees already, both the business and tesl lot - and yet to be convocated. Erk, is there such word? Beats me. Ahhh...gone were the days when we were YOUNG and FOOLISH. Where we were TOO occupied with ourselves in somewhat egotistical ways that life never felt any better without any nonsensical weight on our shoulders.

I shall MISS them profoundly. Holla me of your convocation, will you!

New semester also means new EXPECTATIONS. You know, the 4 flat, drama-free sort of stuffs. But hey, you know what they say, "Pray for the BEST, PREPARE for the worst!" So I am gonna go fetch my umbrella now before it is going to rain. Kidding. Sure everyone ASPIRES to achieve the PERFECT TEN score - the everyone-dreamt-of-yet-few-actually-get-to-taste-it. I know ONE of them here at the faculty - it's a SHE, NOT from the mainstream (which is TOO bad since main shall always have high regards upon themselves and tend to look down upon others for whatever reason they fancy) and she looks ALL-ORDINARY most importantly. Pretty lass, I shall say. So now you believe that LOOKS could be deceiving eyh? Too late.

Anyway, I am pathetic to announce that I TOO am aspired to grab and grasp the peak of the Himalaya after so many semesters and even MORE failed attempts along the way. Looking back, the highest I have ever scored (and all thanks to the Almighty) was 3.96 in part 2 of my diploma years - and that was in 2004! Imagine how ANCIENT the record is! Wonder not of the missing 0.04 - gone with an A- in my co-curriculum. Shoot!

So the BIG question mark is..NOT whether I can get it or not, but HOW?

Can I get it by dilly-dallying over my studies as I have always done and will always be PRONED to?

Can I get it by DREAMING HARDER with a little less conversation and even LESSER action?

Can I get it by skipping classes a la jumping over the ropes?

Nay nay nay! Seriously Mr. Irwan, did you NOT learn from your past? Wake up and smell the coffee! *caffeinated*. Whoa that was a STRONG of a dose. Okay I'm waking up already. Stop the nag.

This NEW semester promises nothing but SIX things - or rather, subjects. No matter how you try to be IN-DENIAL, relentlessly it will come. So why wait and dread? Enjoy the advancement! Introduction to research methodology, Contemporary Literature, Methodology in Teaching Reading, Curriculum and Instruction, Sociolinguistics, Nihongo and most importantly....*drumroll* CREATIVE WRITING!

Uuu....how to pronounce the first word again?

THIS is what you'll get if you take literature as your minor. Juniors be aware! But be not intimidated - Mr. Jaferi shall enlighten you! (:

No I'm NOT mentioning this out of the intention of attention or credits or whatnot.

Truth be told, I WASN'T even in his class from the start. I was BARELY able to be under his tutelage if it wasn't for the COURAGE (the cowardly dog - just kidding) to take over me and initiated myself to roll the mouse and click to change to his class during the very last week of registration. Of course, I had to EXPERIENCE what it's like in other class(es), had I not? Only then could I make FAIR judgment from a pretty much SOUND mind. Sound mind = sound decision!

They say first impression LASTS. I sure hope it would be my last IMPRESSION as well. Having had the encounter with the younger kind of lecturer, I have to say I am thrilled and awed over the fact that he or she is YOUNG, and yet is INTELLIGENT! Of course, a bit of whimsicality is also craved for. What more he is a LITERATURE lecturer! Can it get ANY cooler than that? Bring it to me.

During the last class Mr. Jaferi commented on my "I wish I had said.." piece as being 'wishy-washy' kind of stuff. I guess I'm a WISHER after all! I admit I wish for everything more than anything in this world. Worse is that I am so GREEN with envy! Maybe that explains of my residency in Greenwood. Hmm??

Having said all these, I MUST say I quit wishing and resoluting long time ago when I realize my performance scale had been topsy-turvy and is descalading over time. I am simply contented for the GIFT from Allah the Almighty of my continuing Dean's List results from the beginning of my journey till now. I must WISH here to stay thay way till the END of my journey. Albeit the RESTLESSNESS, HOPES and EXPECTATIONS from my own self and from people around me who are either cheering for me sincerely or waiting for doom to befall me.

I AM MY WORST ENEMY. Enough said.

So how new is new again? It's all in the mind.