Saturday, July 11, 2009

Sanggup Berkorban untuk Negara Practical Lesson

'Are you in plkn?' 'Are you?'

That's the question that has been hounding me for some time now. Everybody wants to know. My juniors, my friends, my tuition mates, my family members, etc etc.

And in contrast to my calm and casual reply 'yes', they exclaim in shock, 'WHAT!!' 'Aduh!!'

Erm, hello? I'm the one going, not you.

I was quite calm when I checked and found that I was in. Ever since Arnan 'escaped' PLKN, I was sure that I would get it. Did I want to go? No. But I resigned myself to such a fate a year ago. So this comes as no surprise to me. And I'm not afraid. At least, I think I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, if you can survive three bukit mewah prefect camps, you can survive anything. Especially if you survived last year's camp and managed to survive organizing this year's camp, as I have done. But lately, I'm beginning to feel somewhat disturbed over my destiny.

I've heard snatches of conversations from other 'unfortunate' fellows who were trying to figure out a way to aviod this predicament. 'I have a health problem, looking at me!' 'I've heard of a doctor who will not clear you for plkn if you ask'......etc,etc.

Heck, I even found a question posted on Yahoo asking How to Avoid PLKN. wow.

Which makes me wonder: Is that the right attitude one should have towards PLKN?

Sure, you don't need to tell me the numerous reasons why us youth feel that way. I know and struggle with them myself.

1. Waste of time. Others are applying for scholarships, getting experience by working, taking driving lessons, going college, etcetc; and I will be stuck, for three months, in an extended prefect camp. I would learn some skills and such, but it would still be quite waste of time. I mean, 3 months!!!! I was actually thinking of joining the SU programme they had for after f5s. Now I can't.

2. High mortality rate. Look at it this way: we're not at war, and we only have one or two sessions playing around with firearms. Tons of money are being spent on insuring the comfort and safety of all PLKNers, so why are there still so many young ppl dying? Which country would have such a high casualty of deaths in a training centre? This is something to worry about. I would not like to die at eighteen at a training camp.

3. Terrible food, accomdation, etc. From the testimony of former PLKNers, it is really, really bad. One of my friends said that he had to go vegitarian. There were stories of food poisoning. Remember, I'm going to spend 3 months there.....3 months with bad food and smelly toilets? Three days at prefect camp, fine. 3 months..............................

And so on and so forth. Not to mention that I am also terribly afraid that I can't manage the activities there. I can even touch my toes without bending my knees. Three days of prefect camp is fine, because that's how long my adrenaline drive can last. I've never tried 3 months. Have I mentioned that I'm practically blind without my specs?

So, what does it come down to? Am I willing to spend three months at a camp where I might not make it out alive?

Touch wood, you say. But I do bother about that.

If I want to avoid PLKN, I can. I know I can. Many have done so. that the right thing?

In moral class, we learn the nilai sanggup berkorban untuk negara. The willingness to sacrifice anything we have, including our lives for our nation.

In the Bible, Jesus once said, 'Give to Ceasar (the goverment) what belongs to Ceasar; and give to God what belongs to God'.

Yes, the whole PLKN thing is a farce. The whole thing may be a waste of time. It may cause me to have food poisoning. It will most certainly make me darker, have more pimples, sleep less hours, bring me back to the whole prefect camp torture thing. It may kill me. I might go crazy. I am afraid, to a certain extent, of crazy coaches who hate weaklings, stuck-up girls who refuse to be friends, of vigourous activities which might tire me out.

But I got to do it right? I can't back out. I won't back out either, given a chance. Sanggup berkorban, I am not. Don't start thinking that i'm some sort of saint. I just know that I got to do what I got to do. And I'm not condemning others who want to back out. This is just my standard that i've set for myself, that God has set for me.

Nike. Just do it.

So can I get an A in my moral exam??

Saturday, July 4, 2009


I was dreaming this morning..............a weird dream of V (from V for Vendetta, watched it last night) saying something in the most verbose manner, and I was shouting NO NO NO....only was it me? My mouth was open yet it didn't sound like me.......

And then I woke up to hear my mom. Apparently she's the one yelling.

I pulled the covers over my head, snuggled a little deeper into my pillow, and slept.

My mom yells and screams all the time that we all kinda take it for granted. She yells went I fall asleep on the floor, when she drops a pot, when she sees a spot of dirt, when she sees a lizard, when she sees a cockroach, et cetera. And when I way yell, i mean screaming like she saw a dead body. Or a fire. You can't really blame her. As far as I'm concerned, most of the girls who grew up during that time were brought up to be scared of dirt and animals. Sorry mom, but that's how I see it.......(I'm going to die if she sees this)

But enough about my mom's screams. Of course I didn't go back to sleep, even though it was 6.30 in the morning. You can't ignore your mother's screams, regardless of how tired and sleepy you are. Groping for my glasses, I stumbled out of my room.


"There's a RAT in my room, Hannah!!!"

Ok, now that made me sit up. And so began the Game of Get That Rat!!

After some hesitation, I peep into my mom's room to look for the rat, making her (my mom, not the rat) squeal. And I saw the cutest sight.

The poor mouse (yes, it was a mouse, not a rat) was running and up and down my mom's bed, looking for a way to escape. It was so adorable. Its nose came up in the air in the most endearing way, and I feel in love with it in as much time as it took for me to fall in love David Archuleta when he gave his baby-face beam. Awwwwwww.........I wanna squish you, you furry little trouble maker!! It made waking up early on Saturday morning so worth it.

Unfortunately my mom did not agree. What is it with girls of her generation and mice??

And what is it with boys of her generation and killing mice??

Yes, my dad killed my new-found squishable cutsie-pie. Well, he killed it when he came back from prayer meeting. Which was a very long wait, what with my mom screaming when she saw the poor mouse scampering across the hallway when it manage to squeeze through the bedroom door, and screaming again when she spotted it hiding behind the waste paper basket and doing the classic stand-on-the-stool reaction. Yes. it was a long long wait, cuz my dad really didn't bother about what my mom said. Like I said, we're all immune to my mom's screams.

The wait was long enough for me to invent a story, two stories in fact about that mouse, while waiting for it to move out of its hiding place. I wanted to post it here; both were amusing. One was how this little mouse refused to listen to his mother and decided to explore the house of the gods, the other was it was a young mouse just married and wanted to look for a gourmet meal in the house of the gods to celebrate. The mouse was a bit silly, a bit adventerous, a bit scatter-brained, and one hundred percent cute. And ultimately, it would scamper away, shaken but not stirred, ready for another accidental adventure.

Unfortunately, that was not how it was meant to be.

I managed to pull out the mouse from its hiding place when my dad came back. He wanted to kill it. I didn't. So there i was holding the fighting bundle in my hand, yelling "Don't kill it!!!"

My mom screamed hysterically, or maybe it was my dad, "It's biting you!!"

What was i supposed to do?? Of course I let it go, hoping that it would find the open door and run away.

It didn't. I told you it was scattered brained and silly!!! Didn't it know what open doors are for??

My dad rammed it on the head and it was dead.

Swallowing tears, I asked "Why did you kill it???"

It's a pest, was the answer.

Archie in the form of a mouse, a pest?????

I stupidly answered "And you woke me up for this!"and slammed myself in my room. At that moment, I rather be dreaming of V.

Poor, poor mouse. Stupid, disobedient, silly, scatter-brained, idiotic mouse. Now the mother will be waiting, waiting, for her stupid, disobedient son to never come home. Or maybe it's the more sensible wife who is pregnant with her babies, now a widow.

What's with people and mice?? Must all mice be cute like this:

Why must white and brown mice be the ones that are pampered? What's wrong with gray mice or black mice? Racists!!!

Or whatever you're supposed to call them.

Hmph. I'm sad. I dunno how to end this, cuz I was planning to end it on a happy, hilarious note.....but now the mouse was murdered.

Rest in peace, mouse. And I hope we'll be able to meet somehow, someday, somewhere, and we can talk, and I can cuddle and squish you, and you can nibble my ear.

Maybe You can arrange that, God?

Extra note: No one except me woke up from my mom's screaming. My younger bro only woke up when the mouse was dead. I told you we were all immune to my mom's screaming! =p
And I have forgiven the murderer, my father. He was just doing his job to the best of his ability. I mean, if he didn't kill the mouse, my mom would be screaming at him the whole day. He may be immune to it, but it does get annoying. Go, dad, and sin no more....