How I spent my last day of being a minor 17

This is going to be one boring blog post about one's daily routine, but with the appearance of some huge elements (historic pictures) popping out occasionally so that your eyes may rest on splashes of colour that somehow describes me better than my words do (you will soon discover), apparently, after having to put them through letters of words and more boring words. Spoiler alert: I turn 18 at the end of it.

I don't usually write stuff like this, but here we go.

The very first image that managed to present itself clearly before my eyes as the day started, which successfully knocked me out of my bed, was the scene of my unlocked phone screen, particularly the one small part that shows "6:35am". I had no idea how many times I had so desperately pressed on the snooze button. After a quick shower and all the preparation, I set out for work hurriedly, having to sacrifice breakfast.

Then the usual stuff. Set up the bar, check the mark-out tags, clock in, turn on the turbo chef oven, till in, greet the customers, take their orders, make some drinks, take more orders, make some more drinks. There was something that was unusual though. Today I learned something extremely new, and really felt the impact of the phrase that goes like, 'everyone out there has their own stories'. True, so true. In a way, this learning has changed my perspective towards life itself. It inspired me, unexpectedly, to cherish the people around us and the moments with them, because tomorrow is not promised.

I am going to write so much details about today, which is quite sickening to me too, but oh well, there's only one today. Details include what I had for breakfast. A good cup of Signature Hot Chocolate (burned my tongue) with just the right touch of taste, topped with whipped cream, which I have recently grew a weird fond towards.Then I had a bagel sandwich during my break and was not sure of the proper way to eat it and ended up using a pair of fork and knife. In the process of eating I got an unexpected call from my mom wishing my happy birthday - she thought that today was Wednesday. The remaining free time I had was devoted to this book, called The Hunger Games. Time moved moderately after resuming work and it eventually brought me back home.

My day at home was spent helping out my aunt to do some cleaning, eating, and most of it - as anyone else out there does - on the computer. After much of not doing anything particular on the net, I started looking back at all of the photos and albums I have in my Facebook. Boy, my life was amazing. It was once amazing. What I'm living with right now is nothing close to that, nothing I want at all, but I'll get to that later, hopefully. Generally, I came to realize that I am never going to be who I was, ever, again.

This was me, just a year ago, during choir practice,  Just a year ago. It was a Wednesday in July, which explains the uniform. Oh, that precious piece of uniform, now hanging in my closet far away back home, never to be used again. I was once the cadet leader... And that's it. My job was done there. I was that person who planned, who did last minute plannings, who failed to plan, who could feel that big 'ST. JOHN' word sticking on my face where ever I walked in school and even out of it, who carried this heavy and tiring responsibility for what felt like an eternity... back then. Haha.It is now gone and I somehow miss it. I miss having to sacrifice so much of my time for it. I miss waking up early in the morning for it. I miss having no choice but to stand in front and talk as loud as I could. I miss the faces of the members whom I could name almost all of them by just looking at them. I miss foot-drilling, as much as I once used to hate it. I miss being who I was. And let's just not get to choir.

Probably it's because I am the type of person that needs to feel, and know that I am doing something useful with my life. Not necessarily big, but something that really takes up much of my attention, something that makes me feel worth living. I can honestly tell you, right now, that I feel that I am in no use at all. Not even when I have a job as a barista. Anyone could be a barista in no time, given the proper training and understanding. College makes me feel even worse. After eight months, I still feel like a nobody. I don't even feel belonged. There won't be much difference to others if I have stopped attending college, and the worse part is that I know that. I ought to come up with a plan on how to lead this life, really.

Okay enough of that part. This is suppose to be a post on how I spent my last day of being a 17 year old. Which brings us to the second thing any teen out there adores to do... Sleeping. I took a nap after I'm done with the computer. I love sleeping, provided that I adjust it to just the right amount.

Then I woke up, showered, had dinner, watched some TV, read a few pages of wordings... and I am back here again, to pen down my day. I have expected that by the end of this post I will already officially turn eighteen, and true enough, I am eighteen now. Not a big deal though. This year I have prepared myself to not really care too much about birthdays and well, so far so good. I hope tomorrow will turn out good, nonetheless. A year ago the highlight of this particular day was when I stepped out of school and saw a face that made me give out the widest and most genuine smile. Two years ago was St. John's annual dinner. Three years ago we had Higher Ground held. Four years ago I received a T-shirt with Jae Joong on it. The rest, I can't remember that well.

I need my rest. Good night.

This striked me.

Maybe the very reason I always fail at my countless attempts to really, really write a proper blog post is because I cannot be honest with myself.

I have so much to say, but my urge to write was always, repeatedly, overpowered by that little coward part of me.
.

I hate that part of me.

Hey

Thank you.

For everything.

Sincerely.

Logo on the wrong side

I will write tomorrow.

Updates?

Today I cried.

Dear blog,

Two days. Just two more days and I'll touch and reconstruct you like never before. (Hopefully.)

I can swear that I did not even study this much, this long, and this badly for my SPM.

Hand itchy or what

Why did my aunt fear that I might jump off a building

The past two weeks had been beyond crazy for me. I don't even know how did I survive it. Anyhow I'm glad that it's all over now...or not.

It all began on a fateful Friday where I went back to Kuantan. My plan was to go back on Wednesday, which was the last day of my mid-term exam, with my sister by bus since I had no class for the rest of the week (my sister came up and stayed for the week since she was having school holiday). I wanted to go back as early as possible because I really do miss my hometown a lot and would of course love to spend more time there when I had the chance to. But my uncle and both my aunts were more than concerned about our safety so they said no. In the end my uncle and his wife took a leave from work on Friday just to fetch us back to Kuantan and also to visit grandma, since the last time they saw her was in April. My aunt couldn't join us that morning because she needed to be at work.

On that same morning my dad called up and we were told that grandma was having fever. She was then hospitalized. We didn't know what was wrong with her yet at that point of time. I thought that it was just a mild sickness that comes and goes. So I went on with my appointment in the afternoon. The outcome wasn't good so I prefer not to talk about it here, but I can tell you that it was a good enough reason (or at least, it contributes) for my aunt to think that I may want to just jump off a building.

Then after my appointment we headed to the hospital. The doctor diagnosed grandma with some sort of pneumonia. Her condition wasn't improving and she did not respond to anything we said. Her eyes were opened, but I could see that she can barely understand what was going on that time. My father said she was already in a semi-conscious state but to me, it was no different from being unconscious. She couldn't speak, she couldn't listen, she couldn't even look us in the eyes. My mum even told me that the doctor asked us to be prepared for the worst. Her condition was that severe. That was the second heavy big rock that dropped right into the bag which I had just started to carry on the same day, without warning.

At night when we got home, I found out that I got chosen to pursue my studies in a Matriculation College. I did not get through for the first intake and all I had to do in order to reappeal was just to click a button. That was all I did. I had been checking the same website for weeks and when I finally found out that my appeal was approved, I felt nothing. Honestly. I wasn't even going to consider going for it at all, since I had already made up my mind that I am in no way going to be a surgeon in the future. It was a dream I had to let go because I knew that I couldn't afford to be a good one. I most definitely do not have what it takes. To me, a good doctor has to put his career before his family and sacrifice many other things and I knew that that was not something I am willing to do. But when my family members got to know about it (I used my dad's laptop in the living room where all of my family members were there at that time), they were more than excited. Sure enough, it was an opportunity that not many can get but that didn't really change my mind. At first. I was just so grateful that God gave me this sort of second chance, which I did not plan to make use of.

In the afternoon of the next day we rushed to the hospital. We were told that grandma's oxygen level in her body was dropping and it was not at all a good sign. I was quite blur of the situation that time because everything just happened so fast. My dad had to make a decision before time runs out and at that point we all started tearing. He signed the DNR (do not resuscitate) form for he decided that it was for the best. Should grandma suddenly crashed and her heart stopped, we would just let her go. CPR or the defibrillator may help her to get back to life but those techniques may also break her fragile rib bones. In the end she would suffer more so we decided that if it was the time, then let it be. Despite knowing that it was for the best, a part of me just wished that we would still continue to fight for her, that dad would not sign the paper and not give up on her. 'Cause if I were in her position, I would definitely want my loved ones to fight for me. But then again, there were risks that may worsen her condition and make her suffer more...so yeah. It was definitely a very hard time for me and my family.

Then later that day mum popped up the question. To go for matrics, or not. At that time I still did not put in much thought about it because let's just say that there's no more space in my brain to process that matter. But when mum said it was like a prayer answered to her, that I finally got the chance to study science - particularly medicine, for free, it hit me. And then that became the third stupid heavy big rock that added to my baggage of what I call, misery. Oh it was heavy enough to pull me down from the top of a building I tell you.

I knew I had to make a decision soon but like I said, I just couldn't think. The registration day for matrics was on Wednesday which was four days away. At first I really didn't give it much a thought but as Wednesday got nearer and nearer... My ability to think rationally decreased. It was such an ordeal, really. The battle between what I like (science) and what I am good at (accounting) was an inconclusive one. (My mum and I previously agreed that if I wanted to pursue science then matrics would be it, but if I wanted to go for accounting then I shall remain in KDU) I knew that if I had gone for matrics it would make me a better and more independent person, but at the same time I was unwilling to let go of the six months that I have already spent in college. I also feared that the living condition in the boarding school would kill me.

On Tuesday I was still undeceive. I knew that it was already a bit too late to say yes to matrics but I just couldn't get it off my mind. It was really a rare chance that God has given to me. And I was afraid that I would regret if I have just let it go and not try at all. That morning I called my dad and asked him for help and I don't know why I just started crying in the computer lab. Like an idiot. I made so many phone calls on that same particular day and in the end my mum helped me to decide. She said since I was so confident in accounting whereas I knew I wasn't good in my science subjects, I should just continue with accountancy in college. Period. Decision made. So I agreed and for a moment, just a moment, I was relieved that it was over. In the evening I went to watch Madagascar alone 'cause I thought it would give me a reason to have a good laugh, but it failed to. The movie was okay, I laughed a little here and there, and that's it. Back to life.

The story does not end here.

At night I was having a lot of thoughts again. Many people gave me different opinions on it but in the end it all comes back to me. I was the one who was suppose to decide. It was a long night. After I came back from dessert with my aunt, we sort of had a family discussion. I then cried again whenever this topic was brought up. The fact that I could not even decide on such a simple thing for myself, my own future, just kills. In the end I was given an hour to list down the pros and cons of both sides. And by 12:30AM on Wednesday, I have already decided that I would go for matrics. Or just go for a try, at least.

And thus the beginning of a whole new miserable week.

More in the next post I think I'm gonna break down soon but not to worry food will always be there for me as long as I have money. Speaking of which, I have only worked for 10 hours this month so far which did not meet the minimum requirement for part-timers I am so dead.

Scumbag life

Funny isn't it.

You made the biggest and toughest decision you have ever, ever made in your life.


Then, shortly after that, the bigger and tougher comes.

Aaaaaaand this happened.

You do.

You make me happy.