yeap baby, we won....the state challenge. we are the mighty mindz. the humble mewahans. the things we did to get to this point. i can't describe the satisfaction on our faces when we got the winning results. it was so great. seriously, our main goal was not to win though. it was to do our best and have fun while doing it and we accomplished it.
we arrived at seremban parade at about 10.45. by that time the lower secondary were doing the first task already, which was the answer-question challenge. we registered and went for a short walk. it wasn't a walk actually. just moving here and there, saying 'hi' and waving 'hello'. if you were there, you could literally see the nervousness on our faces. me, clement and shakilan. OMG. there were rude people there, too, walking past and smiling cynically.
then it was our turn for the first task, the upper secondary. we went in with clueless minds, not really mighty. we were sort of not prepared because there were so many things going on. debates and Prefect Gala. we did do last minute ,desperate, preparation. we stayed back for two days while other schools stayed back for two months. we were definitely freaked out. the thought of losing again (as you guys know we lost in debates finals) haunted all of us. it would be humiliating to go down again. it would be easier to plunge into the abyss of darkness (exaggerating much? yeah)
from the first 7 questions we were 3rd, the first 14 questions, we were 9th...at the end of the first challenge, we were 8th. but it does not matter, since the top 30 teams qualify to the second challenge, that is the hands-on challenge.
now...... the hands on challenge was well......., REALLY, and i mean REALLY, challenging. we were required to built a water powered windmill within an hour and half. and guess what we were given, 3 bottles, 5 plastic tea-spoons, plasticine, a screw, a pin, UHU glue, a polystyrene "wheel", colour paper, a 100plus can, chopsticks, and a blade. (other stuffs, i just can't remember, sorry.) well we started off great. we got to planning and we immediately got to work.
when doing the project a lot of things went wrong. remember the polystyrene wheel? yeah, about that. we kinda decided to poke the sharp end of the spoons (which we cut) so that the water can hit the spoon and turn the polystyrene wheel which in turn would turn the chopstick that will turn the windmill (the 100 plus can cut). but we were 'smart' enough to put UHU glue into the point where we poked the wheel. yes, it turn soggy and soaked.
we looked at each other, panicked. plan B , we used the bottle cap and the plasticine and managed to get it done. then , we had fun doing all the other things. let me just jump to the funny part. we completed our model and we tested it. the moment of truth. the water poured and the windmill did..........(big surprise)....... not work. again panic took over. the water poured on top of the wheel but the wheel didn't turn. disappointment in the crowd. yes there was a huge crowd at our place since we were very hyper and LOUD. then, one of our team member got a brilliant idea. he tilted the water source to hit the spoon directly. it worked. we were overjoyed and yes, we did jump around like monkeys.
and the rest is history. the judges did their evaluation and we got into the shortlist and finally we won. seriously it was the most fun activity i have ever done. mostly because i did it with my friends. a big salute to those guys. they endured my terrible singing during that tensed hour. thanks, shaki and thanks clement. you guys are the best. MEWAHANS RoCk.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
the war of words....
words. they were our weapon of defense and attack during this war. Against an elite school, we the humble mewahans went. the battle ground set in favour of the enemy. where they knew the tricks and shortcuts; strategies to make us look like fools. but we were not scared for we were to speak the truth and nothing but the whole truth.
arguments began. we stated the truth, we were humble but feisty. we were civilised. the evil dirty tricks from the enemy tried to trip us but failed. the cunning laughs and exaggerated hand gestures made them appear more like politicians. they had nothing though. words with not even a strand of relevance were thrown . the crowd went crazy over it. they were cheering for the enemy for it was their homeland.
we did not give up. we knew that they were only armed with eloquence. besides what could we expect from someone who ties his shoelace on a chair during the war. the sword of accent was there but was not used in the right manner. they tried twisting and turning but sadly , they were the ones who got twisted. they went against their own soldiers, they laughed, smiled but they were not aware that the war was not over yet.
we brought out secret weapons and that confused the intellectually-challenged enemy. they ran from the war, in fear that we might beat them. they were like donkeys running off, with their fear-stricken eyes. they were not man enough to accept the truth. they lied and tried misleading us. but we were not misled. however, the others who watched were.
the arguments ended. the war of words was done with. now for the evaluation. an elite school against the humble mewahans. they were like giants. they appeared big, but if looked closer you would realise that they had peas for brains. the evaluation went on. the aspects we were judged on, which side was bigger, who looked better, who was fairer. they were too scared to go against the giants as they might crush them.
they gave the win to the enemy but we knew who were the real winners. we walked out of there with dignity. unfair, sure, injustice, definitely, but what can we do? we are just the humble mewahans.
arguments began. we stated the truth, we were humble but feisty. we were civilised. the evil dirty tricks from the enemy tried to trip us but failed. the cunning laughs and exaggerated hand gestures made them appear more like politicians. they had nothing though. words with not even a strand of relevance were thrown . the crowd went crazy over it. they were cheering for the enemy for it was their homeland.
we did not give up. we knew that they were only armed with eloquence. besides what could we expect from someone who ties his shoelace on a chair during the war. the sword of accent was there but was not used in the right manner. they tried twisting and turning but sadly , they were the ones who got twisted. they went against their own soldiers, they laughed, smiled but they were not aware that the war was not over yet.
we brought out secret weapons and that confused the intellectually-challenged enemy. they ran from the war, in fear that we might beat them. they were like donkeys running off, with their fear-stricken eyes. they were not man enough to accept the truth. they lied and tried misleading us. but we were not misled. however, the others who watched were.
the arguments ended. the war of words was done with. now for the evaluation. an elite school against the humble mewahans. they were like giants. they appeared big, but if looked closer you would realise that they had peas for brains. the evaluation went on. the aspects we were judged on, which side was bigger, who looked better, who was fairer. they were too scared to go against the giants as they might crush them.
they gave the win to the enemy but we knew who were the real winners. we walked out of there with dignity. unfair, sure, injustice, definitely, but what can we do? we are just the humble mewahans.
clothes......
a lot of things change. names change, friends change, initials change, television programmes change, relationships change, and even humans change. once a kind hearted man could change into a greedy money-loving idiot in a few days. change can be good, nevertheless change can be bad too.
my life has been turned upside down; completely changed. from a low caste cart puller, i have now become the designer who has become an overnight success. thanks to Project Runway. i design clothes for both men and women. during the competition i designed a lot of clothes and those were the creation of my imagination. i let my mind wander into the worlds of materials and fabrics. like a horse let loose, it ran wildly. my creations were alive and they had a mind on their own. they would whisper to me the way to cut, sew and assemble them. the judges called my works 'unpredictable', 'magnificent' and 'superbly wonderful'.
i became the newbie who made headlines in the world of fashion. the baby face designer who would earn thousands for his next line of designs. i was the envy of all. my life turned a complete 180 degrees, from living a hut , i now own the biggest bungalow in Beverly Hills. i have jennifer lopez in speed dial and my neighbour is justin timberlake. the ones that i have drooled over are now my closest friends. no more singlets and khaki shorts, its tuxedo and t-shirts with jeans.
but i am not happy. the fabrics have gone mute. i can't hear them anymore. when i touch them, there is no feelings, no affection. nothing. i create clothes which are not mine. highly demanded they have lost their authenticity. they are not mine. look at the set of clothes hung up there, next the cabinet. they are my next line of design. all added up, they would probably bring me millions. i suppose. however i have made up my mind. i don't want that money. i want 'me' back. i want the whisper of the fabrics back.
i looked at them , a short glance over the clothes that didn't belong to me. its high time i made a decision. now, i shall act on it. i grasped the match box from the table beside me. a fast swip of the match, and i saw my freedom. my way out. its time. i threw the lighted match onto the pile of clothes in front of me. they caught on light. i saw happiness ahead, freedom and the old me. i walked out of there with the satisfaction of correcting my wrong.
my life has been turned upside down; completely changed. from a low caste cart puller, i have now become the designer who has become an overnight success. thanks to Project Runway. i design clothes for both men and women. during the competition i designed a lot of clothes and those were the creation of my imagination. i let my mind wander into the worlds of materials and fabrics. like a horse let loose, it ran wildly. my creations were alive and they had a mind on their own. they would whisper to me the way to cut, sew and assemble them. the judges called my works 'unpredictable', 'magnificent' and 'superbly wonderful'.
i became the newbie who made headlines in the world of fashion. the baby face designer who would earn thousands for his next line of designs. i was the envy of all. my life turned a complete 180 degrees, from living a hut , i now own the biggest bungalow in Beverly Hills. i have jennifer lopez in speed dial and my neighbour is justin timberlake. the ones that i have drooled over are now my closest friends. no more singlets and khaki shorts, its tuxedo and t-shirts with jeans.
but i am not happy. the fabrics have gone mute. i can't hear them anymore. when i touch them, there is no feelings, no affection. nothing. i create clothes which are not mine. highly demanded they have lost their authenticity. they are not mine. look at the set of clothes hung up there, next the cabinet. they are my next line of design. all added up, they would probably bring me millions. i suppose. however i have made up my mind. i don't want that money. i want 'me' back. i want the whisper of the fabrics back.
i looked at them , a short glance over the clothes that didn't belong to me. its high time i made a decision. now, i shall act on it. i grasped the match box from the table beside me. a fast swip of the match, and i saw my freedom. my way out. its time. i threw the lighted match onto the pile of clothes in front of me. they caught on light. i saw happiness ahead, freedom and the old me. i walked out of there with the satisfaction of correcting my wrong.
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