Crazy Hat Day!!

I know, I have not been a very faithful blogger. Anyway, this post is about my school life. Think you know me that well? Read this blog, and see for yourself.


Let us start with the 'Crazy Hat Day!'


I can't remember exactly what day it was, but Arthur and I were feeling really bored. The teacher was droning on and on about something and I'd bet you anything the entire class was not paying attention to her. As usual, Arthur was folding a piece of paper while I was writing a short story on a piece of paper (somehow our friendship, our very lives seem to revolve around pieces of paper).

Then at one point, I looked up and stared at Arthur. He was wrestling with a piece of paper, trying to fold a corner in or something. It looked like an overturned saucer with one flat side.
"Hey Arthie, what is that?" I asked.
"I have no idea. I'm just folding whatever i can find, see what comes out of it."
"Well, if its any help, it does look sort of like an armadillo shell cap, like the one from Dukes of Hazzard," I injected.
"A what?! Hey cool!" with that he jammed it on my head. The both of us burst out laughing.

Then an idea hit me like a pile of bricks. As Arthur reached to pull the hat off, i knocked his hand away, and winked at him. He looked at me, then at the cap, then at me again. Then his eyes widened in realization, and he grinned.
An entire silent conversation seemed to pass between us:
"You're gonna wear that hat around??!!"
"Yup."
"All day??!!"
"Yup"
"In front of the teachers?!"
"Yup"
"You're insane!!"
"Yup"

Then, in actual words:
"Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," I reply with a smile.
"You do know that everyone is gonna laugh at you, right?" he said.
"They might, but hey, whats life without a few laughs here and there right? Besides, wear a crazy hat long enough, and it'll catch on. Just you wait and see. By the end of today, I won't be the only one wearing a ridiculous paper hat!" I said

So then Arthur made a weird hat for himself and wore it. Julian, looking at the both of us, made a hat of his own, and wore it.

At first people laughed at us, telling us we look like complete fools (to which our typical response was "Hey, we never said we weren't!"). Then they tried to knock out hats off our heads. Then they started snatching our hats, trying them on, then putting it back on our heads. Then, one by one, students started making hats of their own and wearing it. At last, when our History teacher came in, she was greeted by a sea of white paper hats.

The class was so taken up with the hats, that when the teacher ordered the entire class to remove their hats, the hats came back on minutes later. Every time the teacher made us remove it, the hats somehow resurfaced (if you think Arthur and I had anything to do with it... you guessed right!), to the extent that the teacher could do nothing but teach a class full of students embarrassing themselves (on purpose) by wearing dumb paper hats!

When the bell rang, signaling the end of school, Arthur and I walked out of the class in silence. I caught his eye, and the both of us grinned like a pair of jackals.

S.P.I vs Garden International School

Okay, so you all probably want to know what happened at the Fencing tournament on Saturday. Well, bad news, SPI lost (got second place). Good news, the best Fencer was from SPI, and our fledgling fencer actually beat one of their trained fencers! But I was humbled and taught an important lesson too.

So, in the morning (6 a.m.!!) I get a call on my phone. The SPI fencers are eating breakfast in some shop. Marcus and Wei Loong call and want me to come. I tried refusing a couple of times, but they were persistent. Believe it or not, they were willing to drive all the way from SPI right up to Rasah Kemayan to pick me up from my house, just because I am one of SPI's best fencers! How does one refuse in such a situation? So they all came to my house in one van, at 6a.m. in the morning.

Our trip there was uneventful. We arrived there, and split into groups, 3 from SPI and 3 from GI (Garden International). Then we sparred. The game went that the first contestant to score 3 points wins (or the one who scores most points by the time limit). I said a quick prayer, depending on God to see me through the matches with minimal injury.

I was first in line to spar for my group. My first opponent was a girl. I was weary at first, thinking she was good, but, as soon as she made her move, it was evident who was the better fencer (and it was not her!). So I decided to bully her a little. I was really mean. Every time she took a stab at me, I easily parried, and then ether stab back at her arms and legs (so as to prolong the match, and not end it), or whack her with the flat of my blade. One time, she tried a feint, but I saw it coming. I blocked both her feinted stab and her actual stab, and drove the point of my rapier into her mask, knocking her backwards. I finished her off 3-0.

I got big headed. Sirajudding was next after me, and, when he too had a flawless victory (6-0), it added to my overconfidence. Wei Loong The Great (he had only gone for one fencing lesson, yet he was fighting like us seasoned fencers. Hats off to Wei Loong) won his match, taking two hits, placing us at 9-2. Me and Sirajuddin breezed through the next two matches, taking a hit each, leaving us with 15-4. I thought we were invincible. I thought we had this game wrapped up, and at 15-4, victory seemed to be ours. I knowingly pushed God aside, saying I can handle this on my own. And the worst thing was, that I was aware I was pushing God away.

Our luck ran out. We got hammered 16-18. A crushing blow. I was next, and I thought I could handle myself. I was sadly mistaken. Sirajudding after me fared no better. I went in after that, trying to recover, but we took it bad, 24-27.

We were crushed. Having victory snatched from our hands was painful. And, when we saw our next opponents, we had no hope. They were big, huge, collage level students!!

Sirajuddin was up first. He could not score a single point. I went in after him and fared no better. At 0-6, (SPI 0), Wei Loong was devastated. But he fenced like a pro, and managed to score a point.

I knew that something was not right here. We could handle these guys, yet we were loosing. I sat down in the far end of the room, thought for a while, and prayed. I apologized, and asked forgiveness for not putting Him first. I then asked God to take over from here on. I asked Him to let me bring glory to His name in this competition. Then I resumed the game, feeling like the true champion I was.

Sirajuddin was after Wei Loong, but he was not able to score anything. The points stood at 1-12 (SPI 1). Then I went in. God gave me the wisdom to test my other opponent, and not leap straight into battle, as was my style. I found out that he was fast, but his moves were predictable. I knocked his blade to one side, only to have it swing back and knock mine away. I repeated the same move, only this time, when his blade swung back, I disengaged it (so that his counter-parry wont work), and stabbed at the exposed part of his shoulder. I scored a point. My confidence blossomed. I pressed on the attack, slashing, stabbing, feinting, lunging etc. Each time I attacked I scored a point. But time ran out. Still, the scoreboard now read 10-13 (SPI 10).

"$#!t man, 10 points!" shouted Sirajuddin, a stunned grin on his face.
"9" I corrected him.

Wei Loong and Sirajuddin fenced with renewed vigor, scoring a point each. Then Wei Loong and I swapped places, so that he would go before me, and I would play the last match. Wei Loong did not score a single point leaving the points at 12-24. Then it was my turn, and I would be facing off the best, the team captain.

He was weary of me. He had seen the way I had handled his friend. We met in the centre, and, in the blink of an eye, stabbed at me. I parried his blow with equal speed, then took at stab at him, but he had already taken two steps back. I took a step forward, and did a full out lunge. He parried it, and lunged, but I, with lightning quick reflexes, recovered from the lunge, and knocked his blade downwards. Then I extended my arm in a semi-stab. His blade raised a welt in my thigh, and I drove the point of my blade into his mask, making him stagger backwards.

I was running out of tricks. I needed a new one fast. My opponent knew all those common moves, and was prepared for it. So I pulled one very very very (very!) dangerous stunt. I stood my ground and waited for him to attack. That means I am allowing him to plan his attack, and advance. It means that I will be relying on speed alone, to react to him. He advanced, testing me with slight jabs. The he lunged. I parried the blow, and stabbed at him, but he was to far. He tried to parry my stab, but I disengaged him, and when he tried to parry again, I counter disengaged him, took a step forward, and did a full out lunge. He was not prepared for that. I nailed him.

Man, my next move really caught him off guard. As soon as the coach said fence, I covered the distance between us in a matter of seconds, and the next instant, was on his side of the line. He was so shocked at my sudden aggressive attack, that he did not know what to do. I stabbed him, he blocked. I stabbed again, he blocked. I stabbed for the third time, only this time, I dropped my blade in a small circular arc under his blade, so that his parry missed, exposing his shoulder. I drove my blade into his shoulder, earning me another point.

We fenced what must have been the greatest fencing match of my life so far. Lunging, parrying, stabbing etc. By the time we were done, the scoreboard read 20-27. recovering 8 points was no small feat. SPI lost, but on an individual scale, I owned the game! I was crowned best fencer.

I dominated the rest of the matches. Enough said.

But this post is to glorify God. Believe it or not, this really did happen, exactly the way I told it. No exaggerations, nothing. I just witnessed a miracle. No way I could have held out so long on my own against those fencers, who, by the way, have been fencing longer than I have.

This was a humbling experience. I was beaten by those of lesser experience than me when I left out God, but I beat more experienced fencers, when I let God take over. All glory to Him.

Arthie Arthie

It was Wednesday I think, when Arthur, Julian and I had to stay back to finish our Living Skills (K.H.) wood work (I couldn't finish mine on time because I attended drama practise). As Julian and I were doing our work, we suddenly herd a yeowl, followed by a curse. Looking up from my work, I saw Arthur jumping about clutching his thumb tightly. Julian shook his head and resumed his work, while I laughed.

After a few moments, I heard another curse.

Arthur: How do you all get the nails to obey you??!! My nails are bent on making my life miserable!

Me: Its called skill Arthie, not something you are familiar with.

Arthur: I am carpenter-illy challenged!

Julian: That you are!


A few minutes later I heard the fall of a hammer followed by a prolonged groan.

Arthur (holding up a bent nail): How do you get the nails to go straight into the wood?!?! How do you keep your nails from bending, when you hammer it?! Hey, maybe I'm the Last Nail Bender!!

Julian dropped his hammer and burst out laughing.

A little while later

Me: Hey Arthie, do me a favor and get the Shellac oil from the K.H. store.

Arthur: Okay.

Arthur came back holding a big container and several brushes.

Arthur: Since I brought you the Shellac, I get to use it first.

Julian and I: Okay

So Arthur poured the liquid into a bowl, dipped a brush into it, and started coating what supposed to be his wood work. It took me a while, but then I noticed something was wrong. Instead of the brown Shellac oil, the bowl was filled with a clear white liquid.

Me: Arthie where did you get that liquid?

Arthur: In the store room, why?

Me: Because that's not Shellac.

Arthur:What?!

Me: That's not Shellac

Julian looked at the liquid, then at Arthur, and burst out laughing.

Julian: Looks like Turpentine.

Arthur: What is that?

Me: I don't know what that is, but I sure as hell know it's not Shellac

Arthur looked mortified. Then he let out a long, anguished wail.

Arthur: Curse you Two-pen-tein!!!!!

Me: Its Ter-penh-tine

Arthur: No, its Two-pen-tein. It has a 'U' in it.

Julian examined Arthur's woodwork, and laughed a whole lot more louder. Arthur had coated half his woodwork in Turpentine. I then went back to the K.H. room and get some proper Shellac oil, and started...er... Shellac-ing my woodwork. Julian did likewise.

Arhtur: Oh bugger the whole thing!! I have an idea!

With that, Arthur emptied half the Shellac bottle into a small container, and then dipped his woodwork into it.

We went to class laughing like a trio of drunkards!

There and Back Again

Ever heard about the book The Hobbit, by J.R.R. Tolken? As I was flipping through Christopher Paolini's Eldest, I got bored of the rookie's writing, and found myself drifting to the skilled stories of the great J.R.R. Tolken. My mind zeroed in on one book in particular, The Hobbit.

I don't know why, but I regard The Hobbit as a masterpiece, like The Secret Garden, Black Beauty, The Wizard of Oz etc. From the first page, I could 'feel' Bilbo Baggins. I understood exactly how he felt, why he made the decisions he made etc. I felt his terror as he faced the Trolls, I felt his confidence as he hacked at the Spiders, I was biting my fingernails as he traded riddles with gollum (I even memorised all the riddles), etc.

Tolken somehow made Bilbo grow and mature in the book. And I don't just read it, I feel it. I see his way of thinking change as he is exposed to the outside world (Middle Earth). Lets face it, very few authors have the ability to make their fictional characters grow in their stories. Christopher Paolini certainly does not have this ability; Eragon the Dragon Rider still acts and thinks like he used too when he was a farm boy! The authors that have the ability include Tolkien and D.J. McHale. McHale demonstrated his skill in the Pendragon series. I won't say I'm a fan, but I have read books 1-8, and will read book 9 and 10 at any given time. The story is awesome. The entire idea is new, and the pregression of the whole story is just....wow. To write about fate and destiny, and the lives of a ka-zillion people in 10 separate worlds, and weaving them together, is not easy. In fact its downright hard. Hats off to McHale here.

Back to The Hobbit. Though I am a bit disappointed about the fact that Bilbo did not become a mighty warrior or a knight, and play an important role in winning the Battle of the Five Armys, I am content with the way the story ended. Bilbo went home, back to the Shire, the one place he wanted to be throughout his adventure. The one place where he will never again be troubled by Goblins, Trolls or Dragons. The one place where he could finish his book on his adventure: There and Back Again, A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins. Besides, he did become an excellent swordsman (Bilbo's sword Sting was actually a dagger), and Bilbo came back with enough riches to keep himself comfortable for the rest of his life.

Truly a beautiful book.

Fiction

I know you all 'Expect' me to write about the Aspirers Camp (for those of you who attended the camp, you'll get the joke), but I'll write some other time, when the pictures are sent out.
I want you all to read the following story.



Bill opened the front door at the second knock. He came face to face with the new kid in town.

"The party is in the living room," yelled Bill over the music, and jerked his thumb toward the general direction of the noise. As the teenager walked past, Bill shook his head in disgust. The kid was probably only 14. Most everyone in the party was above 21. Bill knew he was to blame. It was his idea to set up a sign that said 'all invited' in big bright letters. Of course all the kids in town knew to stay away from any 'grown up' parties. All except for this one, it seemed. Bill caught up with the new kid, and led the kid away from the party, muttering "Few things you need to know."

"The people in the party are older than you, so I'd like it if you...just let them be. Second, there's a girl there, 15 years of age or so. You are by no means to touch her, dance with her, or hit on her. She is my sister. Not to be rude, but I can be a little paranoid when it comes to my sister and guys," Bill spoke rapidly, so as to mot miss the party. He looked as serious as possible.

The teenager squeaked something in reply, looking nervous. Bill merely grunted and walked back to the party. The teenager, somewhat shaken, followed Bill into the living room.

* * *

Bill was having a great time at the party. He had danced with a few girls, made sly, witty remarks that made him look cool and carefree. Now he was standing at a corner talking to Amy. Bill had a huge crush on Amy since they first started high school. Now that they were both studying in the same University, Bill felt he stood a chance with her.

Amy was a real beauty. She had large, light brown eyes, with shoulder length brown hair. She had a cute button nose, and a pair of luscious red lips. Her smile could dry a boy's mouth, and her dimples could send people over the moon. Her skin was milky white and unblemished. She stood over six feet tall, and moved like a river, swift, graceful.

Bill was mesmerized by the way her hair swayed with every turn of her head. He had just managed to muster enough courage to ask her for a dance, when he felt a slight tug on his sleeve. To his annoyance, he found the teenager staring at him. Bill, not wanting to look bad in front of Amy, asked the kid "Boy, how old are you?"
"15 sir," was the reply he got.
"Okay, what do you want," said Bill as nicely as possible. It did not work. An idiot could tell that the smile on Bill's face was forced, and he barely managed to keep his voice level.
"I want to know why is that lady over there sitting all by herself," squeaked the boy
"Maybe she's tired!" snapped Bill. How was he to know?
"I don't think so. I have not seen her do anything at all," insisted the boy.
"Look-" Bill stopped short. A sudden realization hit him like a brick. "Which lady?" he asked quietly.
"The lady in black, there at the far end," said the boy, gesturing towards a corner.
"Oh..." Bill said, thinking of what to say next, "She is sick, kid."
"Its not just any sickness, is it sir?" said the boy quietly. To Bill, the boy suddenly seemed a lot older.
"No, its not. It is a contagious skin disease. She only has a few more weeks left to live," said Bill, his tone softening. "it could have been cured if she had seen a doctor while the disease was at an early stage, but now..." he did not have to finish.
"So everyone just leaves her alone!?" said the kid, his voice rising. "She has a few more weeks to live, and she is spending it in a corner! The least you could do is talk to her! But I see you avoiding her just like everyone else!" the kid was shouting now, but no one could hear him over the speakers.

With that the kid turned around and ran towards the lady. Cursing vilely under his breath, Bill chased the kid, hoping that the hot blooded teenager would not be stupid enough to touch the lady.
The boy was fast. And he had the size advantage. He managed to dodge the dancing couples, leap over chairs etc. Bill...was not so graceful.



The boy reached the lady first. Without thinking, the boy threw his arms around the lady and hugged her. Bill arrived at the scene several moments too late. He stood rooted on the spot. The hug lasted a good 12 slow counts, then the lady broke the embrace.

"I don't think you know that I have a contagious skin disease, boy," said the lady in a quiet, sad voice.
"You do? Oh well, that makes the both of us now," replied the boy cheerfully.
"No, i don't think you get it. You could fall sick and...and...die," croaked the lady, her voice breaking.
"Well, the only thing left to do is to make the best out of it, then isn't there," said the boy. "May i have the pleasure of dancing with you?"

The woman stared at the teenager for sometime. Then she started sobbing, and the boy hugged her again. "Will you not have this dance with me?" asked the boy quietly.
The lady broke the hug and whispered a single word, "Yes."

A smile lit the boy's face as he and the lady moved to the dance floor. The crowd parted to let them pass. The two of them danced to a slow-ish song, and they were the only ones on the dance floor. As they danced, all those in the living room applauded. There was a huge smile on the lady's face, as she twirled her worries away.

Bill could not take it anymore. He turned around, dropped into the nearest couch, and wept his heart out. For the first time in a very long time, Bill cried.



At the end of the day, there wasn't a single dry eye in the house.


By: Azriel Chelliah

Odd...

It happened while I was coming home from church. I was in Uncle J's car, and we were both talking merrily.

Then, as we were on our way, I saw something on road (not on our side, but the road beside us, where cars go the opposite direction). As we drew nearer, I realized it was a motorcycle helmet. Then, as we drove past the helmet, I saw something beside the helmet. It looked like a round bowl standing upright. The inside was white, but, as the bowl-like-thing tilted a bit, I saw the outside: It was light brown, with streaks of red. But due to the fact that the road was a curve, i quickly lost sight of it.

I looked at Uncle J, and asked "Is that the top half of a skull there beside the helmet?"
The response was priceless: Uncle J hit the brakes, causing the car to jolt, and move a lot slower. I saw his eyes widen.
"Are you serious?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

I must have been deathly pale, because his eyes grew bigger, and he did not repeat the question. Instead, he asked me if we should take a U-turn and check it out. I nodded swiftly. He wheeled the car around in the next U-turn, and shot on.

As we neared the curve, Uncle J slowed down, and the both of us kept our eyes on the road. We went along the curve, but this time, we saw nothing. No helmet, no weird bowl/skull-thing.

Uncle J heaved a sigh of relieve. I laughed. The laugh was hollow, and it sounded fake, even to my ears. Uncle J is usually the type of person who would make a comment at something like this and laugh it off, but he took one look at my face and remained silent. I must have looked pretty bad. I knew I probably looked really pale, plus the frowning (the frowning comes when I'm deep in thought), and the pursed lips. Yeah, I think I looked like the scarier version of Lurch from the Adam's Family. Plus, I think Uncle J saw the helmet too...

I could have sworn (I did not, cause Christians aren't supposed to swear) I saw those two things. But seeing is believing, right? I saw nothing on a more closer examination, so there couldn't have been anything......right?



Or........



.

Intresting

The Batman hesitated. Catwoman was on her face, gripping her side. He had taken her out, but did he have to finish it? She was a woman after all. He hesitated too long.
Her leg lashed out, catching him in the gut. He doubled over, backing away. Catwoman leaped to her feet. "Poor Batman, always the gentleman," she purred. Then she scratched the exposed part of his face, drawing blood. He staggered to the edge of the building. Her lips curved upwards, forming a smug smile, before she punched, sending him over the edge of the building.

Later

Alfred: Everyone has their own weakness, master Bruce

Bruce: Yes, but I always thought it was my secret identity

Alfred: It seems you have found another weakness. One in the Catwoman








To Sherlock Holmes, she was always the woman. He hardly referred to her in any other terms. She had called his ingeniously planned bluff, and then donned a disguise of her own, and followed him back to 221 Baker Street. She was Irene Adler. The end results were the same, the documents were destroyed, but the ego of the greatest detective of all time was sorely bruised. She had outsmarted him at what he did best. The case Scandal in Bohemia will never fade from the memory of Sherlock Holmes.

Several months later

Watson: for god's sake, Holmes, forget the woman, like any sane man would! You're case was still
a success!

Holmes: Tell me, my dear Watson, how does one judge a success?

Watson: I would say that the answer depends on the man, wouldn't it?

Holmes: Quite so, Watson. Need I say more?

Watson: You are saying, that I judge a success by the end result, but you judge success on how you beat your opponent, are you not?

Holmes: Excellent, Watson. You catch on fast.

*pause*

Watson: Why did you not tell me the answer, Holmes? Was it really necessary to riddle me so?

Holmes: The fastest way for a man to understand something, is when he is forced to admit it himself. Otherwise, you would have argued with me, and I would have to debate with you, am I right Watson?

Watson: *sigh* Quite so, Holmes, quite

Holmes: Elementary, my dear Watson...





Above are some sentences that caught my eye. Notice how both the antagonists above are female... (I'm not saying anything...)

I like Alfred, because he is observant, wise, and witty. He just stats the facts, and suddenly things are much clearer. No messing around with possibilities, just straight to the point. And I love his off hand witty remarks. Hilarious!

As for Sherlock Holmes, he's the greatest detective of all time, whats not to like about him!
Read the Holmes/Watson dialogue above...now do you all see why I like Sherlock Holmes?
The guy is a genius!!