My dear friends, this is a post I write to immortalise my final semester break as an undergraduate.

My holiday officially started on June 18th and will (I think amidst tears and heartache) end on July 25th.

I remember all the past holidays I had since 2004 as an innocent, cute, fresh young girl in Taylor's Communication Diploma and thank all my friends for making it so wonderful. I will always treasure the trips I took with all my college buddies (you know who you are) as the silliest, most outrageous, drama-queen, fun-filled memories.

I also remember the transition into UniSA BA (CMM) as a (still) innocent, cute, fresh, wiser, calmer person. And also the trips I continued to take with my buddies (though the people shrank in number). They never lost their magical moments. Each trip unique and splendid in its own way.

Through all the years in varsity I realise how much I changed. The most obvious is probably my black hair which is now always dyed. It was always messy and is still messy today. I now truly believe I have what Enid Bylton would call pixie hair, un-brushable. Most importantly how I have grown. Shy, reserved and quiet, struggling with an identity and trying to figure out my relationship with my parents.
I am bolder now and won't hesitate to speak but still naturaly shy, reserved and quiet. And my relationship with my parents? I now understand it's better to accept imperfection rather than waste time trying to fix every bump.

Last but certainly not least, after struggling to understand why I chose Mass Comm,
I have accepted myself as a Mass Commer, a media person. To say this means a lot to me, because I could never admit that part of me. Previously I felt it was a big mistake doing Mass Comm and I was totally out of my comfort zone. I wouldn't say I am 100% into the field, but I know people are made out of many capabilities, and I won't categorize myself anymore.

After trying so hard to reverse certain aspects of my choices, I now know how  to be optimistic and just accept the past, enjoy today and think about tomorrow.

The years in college have been bittersweet, but thankfully it is the sweetness that lingers on my tastebuds. Like perfume which is made of topnotes (the first scent), middle notes and the base notes (when the topnotes and middle notes wear out, this is the last scent), this sweetness is the base note.

I will try my best to make the most out of this last holiday. So no waking up super late so I can make use of everyday.

I was the teen who still felt like a child, and now the (supposedly) adult who still feels like a teen. I find it hard to let go, but as with everything I have to move on.

Thanks be to God for walking with me down this path and for all the people He put in my life to share it with.

I know I know

I see through you
I know I know
Your future before you
You don’t realise
But I see it
I trust in it

Even if you look the other way
And won’t come clean with me
You test my strength
My patience and my love
I know I know
That you’ll change
Snap out of it
Till then I’ll just hold on
Grit my teeth
And clench my fists
Trust there’s a good in you
Even when it seems lost now

The things you do
All for yourself
What about us?
No where left to place
Is it intentional?
Or are you that oblivious
Chasing higher stars
But forgetting what holds you up

No more do we see eye to eye
Even less do I see you now
The only hint you’re still around
Is the scented trail
Your perfume leaves
Before you yet again
Dissapear.
no words no goodbyes

I know I know
Keep the peace
And just hold on
I’m hurt, I’m tried
But trust be to the One
This is a phase
And soon you’ll return.

 

I noticed that as I grow older, it is harder to find girlfriends. No, not the lesbo type I mean friends who are.. girls.

When in kindy, we made friends with anybody who gave out sweets. In primary school , we became more shy with boys. In secondary school we try to get less shy with boys but we still had a lot of girlfriends. Now in college, I think the only girls I get to be close to are those I actually spend time with. Eg: Those I share a class with.

It seems so much easier to find a guy to chat with then a girl. Why is it when we're alone, guys will come and chat but not girls? I know la, opposite sex attracts, but don't girls want to forge bonds anymore??

Why is it on MSN even, I feel that it's easier to find a guy friend interested to chat then a girl?

I want to have deep relationships. Girly relationships. Looks like most girls stick with the girlfriends they only have and are not interested about other girls anymore. I am pretty sure a girl I just met and have a chat with would not keep in touch for long. But it's another story for guys- yumcha, sms etc.

What's happen to all da girls? Gosh now I sound like a little kid trying to make friends.

I wonder if it's just me or other people feel it too.

Is it just me, or does anyone else realise a lot of people are migrating, have plans to migrate, or are already onboard a plane and saying goodbye to sweet Malaysia?

This leads me to wonder- is Malaysia that bad, or is the grass in Australia/ New Zealand (Malaysians preferred migration options) really greener? (Think of those old Fernleaf ads where the cows go Mooooooooo)

I once bumped into my old squash pal's mum at the KTM station.
"How's WM (my friend) ?"
"Oh she's doing fine with her pharmacy in Australia. I was with her there in Aussie. Gosh, everything comparatively is sooo cheap. Of course for Aussies la.. not us.. just few dollars for a big tub of yogurt.. fresh veg and fruits all so cheap.. somethign something cheap.."
"So I guess she'll be continuing to work there after graduating?"
"I really hope so lar.. Much better there."

See my point?

Just two days ago, I bumped into another neighbour whom I had not seen for eons..(ok about 4 years laa) because she had left to NZ with her two daughters so that they could study there. And after all the warm greetings, (she admitted she did not recognise me but recognised my dog I was walking with. But she did say because I've grown very pretty already -.- ) I couldn't help but ask...
"So, C (her daughter) most likely working there?"
Aunty : " I really hope so la.. after all her boyfriend also there...."

Not too long ago over a cuppa I also recalled a friend who is still in Malaysia detailing to me how he would not hesitate to leave for New Zealand the moment he has an opportunity.

What's happening? When I was in secondary school, I remember telling my friend with utmost faith and conviction that I could never bear to leave Malaysia and migrate. Now, my faith in Malaysia is slightly shaken what with so many people running away to supposedly greener fields.

Is Malaysia that bad? I don't think so. Sure our political system needs a little tweaking, no cut that, it needs to be scrubbed from head to toe. But what about all the glorious food- char koay teow, nasi lemak, laksa, nasi dagang, bak kut teh...?? And not to mention the glorious food... and the mamak stalls which never close. The white sandy beaches and clear water. Talk about the people too- once in a while we have some racism issues, but for the rest of us we enjoy each others company truly, whether we are yellow, brown, orange, white or purple.

I mean, it's not like I am a crazy patriotic person- I would really like to go abroad too.... I used to think I'd do that frequently for holidays. Now I think I'd like to work abroad. And lately I've been wondering what it's like to live abroad. *Gasp*

It's getting to me too... What's happening? I don't wanna say goodbye Malaysia (at least not permanently). Hope others won't as well. (Or at least give Malaysia some respect and cry your eyes out before leaving)

One of the best symbols of Malaysia :P

 

“Please don’t ever take this book onto the table if you go out with a guy! Such a turn-off,” my dear friend A said to me while looking at the huge coffee-table book “A Pictorial Journey of Malaya” sitting on the dinner table. I had spotted it on the restaurant’s book rack and just couldn’t help taking it. I like photographs. Especially old ones. I am always curious about the past. Our roots. I like books like this, coffee-table books. But they cost a bomb so I couldn’t help but flip through it before our sub-standard dinner arrived. I laughed at her remark. It seemed really funny to me how such a simple action could draw such strong remarks. There are a lot of quirky things I do, but I take pride knowing they make me an individual.

This incident reminded me of when I was in secondary school. Another friend chided me for not knowing the who-is-who of the music scene. I wasn’t really into music.  Back then, knowing I was ‘different’ made me feel uncomfortable. Strange. I’d hide it or try to blend in. Back then, I wouldn’t have laughed off such remarks. It’s amazing watching myself grow out of it, from being ashamed to giving a so-what attitude.

At least now I can admit what I like. I don’t have to belong to the masses; neither do I have to prove I am unique. I just like what I like. I like green tea ice-cream. Starbucks green tea frappucino rocks. I like watching culture documentaries. Watching Al-Jazeera’s English channel. Listening to Rufus Wainwright and Damien Rice. Having an occasional drink. It’s the me I am trying to come to terms with.

If a guy gets turned off if I put a thick history coffee-table book on the table, I guess I’d just have to enjoy dinner myself.

 

Like a junkie

You’re like a drug,

And I the junkie,

You sit innocent

Don’t know what you do

To my system

All screwed

Because I need you my drug

 

It hurts most

When I can’t have you

But when I do

Its ecstasy, euphoria,

A great adrenaline rush

 

Help me

I don’t want to depend on you

It’s addiction

But that can’t be me

A contradiction

I used to take my own breath

Sing my own song

You came around

And each breath whispers your name

Each song sung for you

 

You my drug

Such sweet pleasure

But even fools know

It won’t last

I’ll be dead and sorry

But you’ll be as you are

Unchanged, my drug

 

 

It’s both amazing and surprising how passionately I felt for someone whom I previously only knew by name. That was before I decided to make the said person the subject of my assignment. An obituary assignment. Yes, you read it right. We, UniSA students have to write obituaries. At first I mistook obituaries to be one of those notices you buy in the classifieds of a paper. When you inform people that Madam So and So passed away leaving behind all her cute little grandchildren and that the family would appreciate people to come for the wake and funeral. But it turned out to be a full profile of a person. A dead person.

At first I was quite mad about the assignment because I had already researched on Evita Peron, who was once Argentina’s first lady, enough to write a mini booklet about her life. My lecturer had firmly told us to do on someone famous, because our family members are insignificant to deserve an obituary write-up. So I came to class carrying 15 pages on the life of Evita only to have her apologizing on her ‘mistake’. It turned out we are actually suppose to write on someone NOT famous, so we don’t copy off the net. Thus, our dead family members are fine topics. Imagine how I was fuming with anger. I am the last person who enjoy doing double work. I do things on ONE shot. And make sure that one shot is darn good. Or else cry about it later.

But I think this was the best double work I ever did. And perhaps for a good reason too. I remember having an aunt whom I never knew, but heard bits and pieces of her life from my other aunt. They often told me misty-eyed how she died young from a heart ailment.

I started out interviewing my mum about it, she’s closest to that aunt. But the interview only slightly lifted the veil on her life, because my mum choked and sobbed while reminiscing and yes, I did too. Many of my questions were left unanswered or with very few words. So, I turned to another aunt of mine whom I vaguely remember keeping the diary of my dead aunt. But disappointment followed. The diary has been brought to another aunt’s place and it was impossible to retrieve it in time. It was at this point, I remember thinking I should just do a write up on my grandma instead. Less sensitive topic since she died of old age. But a few days later, another aunt returned my email interview questions with short but heart-felt answers. She was too young to remember much at 9 years old, but what she did remember was so touching. After that, my other aunt also emailed me back the interview questions with 6 pages of answers.. and all the bits and pieces she saved from my aunt’s diary.

I couldn’t help but be moved by what she wrote. Many times my tears trickled and I quickly wiped them up before my mum found out. By the time I finish reading her 6 page interview, I was convinced I had to write the obituary about that aunt of mine. Her story was too inspiring to be left alone.

 

Researching about her, I discovered such a delicate struggle of a life that ended 20 plus years ago, yet the more I read, the more vivid it seemed. I found out fine details in a memory of a person fades over time like a photograph, but the way those alive feel about you will always remain the same. There was no lack of tears when my aunt revisited the past to tell me her sis’s story. Now I understood why she said “I did not sleep one whole night to answer your interview.” Silly me previously thought because she was trying her best to look high and low for certain pages of the diary she kept. It was actually the memory of her dead sister that kept her up.

Everything we did or said, no matter how little, it is most likely someone noticed it. Thus, its best we do things we never regret, because in time to come, when our bodies are nothing but dust,  our actions and words are what we are remembered by.

 

Thus I’d like to share with you the obituary I wrote of my aunt Chan Cheng Shim. She may have passed away 3 decades ago, but her life has opened my eyes and my heart in so many ways. I hope her life may be an inspiration for many others who face their own personal struggles.

 

The Rhythm of a Gentle Heart

 

Life can sometimes be a lonely road, especially when you carry a burden that you cannot share, to protect those you love. For such a journey, the traveller would have to be blessed with greater determination, stronger will power and have higher endurance than most people. One such person is Chan Cheng Shim, a person so gentle that she belied the courage vested in her, to fight a childhood ailment.

 

She was born in 1957 to a housewife and a police clerk, in the small coastal town of Cukai in Terengganu. Shim was the fourth child in what eventually became a family of seven daughters. All was fine at birth and her parents only realised she had a heart ailment when she was brought to a doctor to treat flu at six years of age. The doctor discovered an abnormal heartbeat and further checkups revealed a defective mitral valve and also a hole in the heart which is known by its medical term as ventricular septal defect. This meant for Shim, her defective heart would always have to work harder in order to pump enough oxygenated blood for her to live. 

 

Shim was lucky she had a tight knit family and as with any family who shares strong bonds, they were affected by the discovery. Her mum especially, was in a daze and shed tears for days.

 

Though the family were devastated, Shim hardly revealed how her disease was savagely eating away her health. Cheng Neo, the second child, recalled her as a genteel person “who never complained or wallowed in self-pity eventhough she has all the reason to.” Yet the truth about her life unravelled itself after her death in 1976, when the family stumbled upon her little known diary.  Her diary was nothing more than an exercise book, but in it every fibre of her life was immortalised through her frequent journals and poetry.

 

The family had a superstition regarding Shim’s fate. When her mother was pregnant with her, Shim’s father had shot a sow on a wild boar hunt and the piglet ran off squealing. Blood dripped from the sow’s nose, chest and abdomen. Ironically, Shim was born with birthmarks on the same three points.

 

On the surface, her life was typical of many other girls living in the 1960s. Her sisters and she collected a cupboard full of records which included shared favourites David Cassidy and The Partridge Family. She even handwrote all her favourite song-lyrics in a self-bound hardcover black book with yellow polka dots, which was all the rage then. She was closest with Cheng Chee, the fifth in the family, and naturally they shared a lot. Chee fondly remembers taking the trishaw with her to Sultan Sulaiman Primary School 1 and walking four kilometres to town to admire the pretty stationery sold in a particular shop.

 

“Being only four years apart, we shared a lot of common interests. She collected stamps, I collected postcards. We both wrote to pen-pals; hers were from Mauritius, Nigeria and Austria.”

 

Nevertheless, Cheng Shim yearned to run and play but a painfully thumping heart prevented this. Her diary revealed how she made up for that loss:

 

…not able to take part in sports and games, I spend all my time in my studies…I could remember all the praises that my teachers showered on me for my good results.

 

Hence she became a literary person who enjoyed discussing literature with Neo and was even able to give Neo pointers on George Crabbe’s poetry. Her mother, who never received formal education, made her the ‘unofficial’ secretary, updating Neo through letters, who was in Johor to study, about happenings at home and also dictating to Shim the order list for the month, to be handed over to the sundry store. Her clear, neat penmanship earned the praise of the shopkeeper who said she would one day get a great job.

 

But such praises could not have come close to the euphoria she felt when she could actively participate in group activities, for she always wanted to be “as normal as possible” and feared that she was a burden to others.

 

I was so happy the other day when I could help my friends paint the library shelves and arrange all the books back… I felt so useful and needed at the school funfair, together with my friends…

 

Selflessness was perhaps Shim’s most admirable virtue. She never wanted to inflict her pain on others; preferring solitude when her heartaches overcame her. In that sense, nobody fully realised the depth of her suffering, and thus selflessness was probably her most secret virtue too.

 

“Shim was leaning her chest against the wooden kitchen table because it eased her pain and made her feel more comfortable. The whole table shook and two big glass water bottles rattled against each other at each heartbeat!”

 

That was not the only occasion Neo and her sisters noticed the tell-tale signs of her ailment. Sometimes they could see the artery on Shim’s neck throbbing, because her heart was pumping so hard. What their eyes failed to see was the deeper struggle behind all of it, hidden in the pages of her diary:

 

I am very scared: had a really bad attack today. My heart was thumping so hard, it felt like bursting…was sweating all over and my legs felt weak…I think Tua Chi (eldest sister) noticed my red eyes. I’m afraid they’re beginning to suspect... told them I had stomach ache.

 

Despite her pain, she was best remembered for her gentle and caring disposition. For Chee, Shim was her confidant who shared many happy moments playing paper dolls and cutting out celebrity pictures from Galaxie magazine together. Neo warmly remembers while struggling to finish the last of her homework, an eight year old Shim crawled under the table to put on socks for her before the trishaw came to pick them up for school.

 

However, as much as Shim tried to contain her torment, she felt her health deteriorating rapidly. Therefore, she left for Singapore with her parents to do the operation under the Singapore government’s sponsorship. She never did the operation as a child because the family were hesitant knowing that survival rate was a mere 30% and a neighbour’s son who went for the heart operation returned in a coffin. Furthermore, Shim did not want the cost to burden her parents.

 

I don’t want my parents to spend all their money on me... I was so glad when father bought the gramophone, everyone can enjoy it.

 

 “I remember the day very well. Father had hired a taxi to take them. Shim looked very sad to leave.”  For Chee and her other sisters, (besides Neo who visited Singapore later on) that was the last they saw of her.

 

 I have known the beauty of life and love it, so please God let me live.

 

Shim appreciated all the little happiness in life and the operation shed a glimmer of hope for her when she emerged from the operating theatre alive. Her family were immensely relieved. So when the subsequent news of her death on July 11, 1976 reached home, the family was numb with shock. They had just begun to rejoice so it seemed terribly cruel that their joy had mutated into grief. Shim’s weak body had rejected the artificial heart valve.

 

“I can still remember what pyjamas I was wearing. We were watching television when Tua Chi came back from making a call. One look at her teary face and I knew,” said Tuan, the youngest.

 

Shim was cremated in Singapore. Her heart-broken parents and Neo, who rushed from Johor, were there to send her off. Because of financial difficulties, no one else from their home, Kuala Terengganu, could attend the funeral.

 

Later on, her diary was found amongst her things they packed to bring home. The diary she sought solace and comfort from now became a book of revelation for her sisters. After 20 years of silence, the words written in her hand spoke up and revealed the real volume of suffering she endured and her true state of health. How she always kept mum about it, to avoid being a burden, touched the core of her family’s hearts.

 

Cheng Shim passed on because of a weak heart, but in the end her heart proved to be much stronger than the average person’s - by taking on so much of suffering and still capable of providing unrelenting love.

 

 

 

 

 

I made it to the CIMB KL Open at the concourse are of Times Square…. yay.. means nothing to a lot people but damn freaking f**king glad I went. It is a rare occasion to watch squash on TV what more live. Anyways squash on TV is really confusing. There are too many angles to the court and it really disrupts the joy of watching it when the camera view changes position and misses a couple of beautiful shots. I knew nobody who’d watch squash so I dragged my 2 bros along to watch (they were quite a good sport about it) and my dad too since he was free that day. Upon arriving, didn’t expect tickets to be RM 30, actually thought they wouldn’t charge at all since Malaysia doesn’t really have many ardent squash spectators, but boy was I wrong. It looks like the seats were all taken and there were tons of other people standing on all three floors above the courts, especially when Nicol David played. Oh btw, I forgot to mention this, prior to the match I actually saw Digi’s fat yellow people (remember the ‘I will follow you’ TV commercial??) walking about Times Square, some sort of promotion. But they looked so cute, like teletubbies with they’re fake paunch and all.

          Back to the squash match, Nicol’s competitor was Natalie Grinham from Aussie and they really had a close fight. But it was a joy watching Nicol leap to all four corners of the court, frequently doing splits to reach the ball (well, she’s pretty short, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do). Well, I guess it was Nicol’s determination that path the way to her victory, and the Malaysian crowd hollered with joy. The cute part is there a lot of little kids and their mums/dads sitting around me, and boy did they know their squash! They were practically dictating the rules of the game and what not, one girl of about 6 years old was explaining to her mum the scoring system for men and women and another dad was telling his 6 or 7 year old daughter to watch out for how Nicol positions herself for the ball. Bet a hundred bucks all these kids are actually undergoing squash training.

          Anyway, after the match my brothers were more ruthless than I was in getting most of the players to autograph the complimentary programme booklet. I wasn’t really into getting signature, more into snapping photos (many squash guy players are hot :))

Nicol David in striped tee before match begins, check out how toned her whole body is.

Jubiliation after Nicol won. Massive crowd at the concourse and on the upper floors. If not for her, I guess the game in Malaysia still won't attract that many people. You can see the glass court (the yellow thingy at the right hand side of the page)

Stewart Boswell, Aussie and my bro, local :P He lost to an Egyptian in the finals, but more ppl harrased him for autographs and photos compared to the winner. Wonder why ... :P

 Azlan Iskandar. Nice, cute fella. Nvr seen him play before though.

I think Friendster and I really hate each other. I go around badmouthing its laggy and incompetent options, and it retaliates by screwing up my profile. Just a few days ago, I updated my entire profile. After spending about an hour on it, I hit save and voila, only the ‘About Me’ section got updated. The rest, as they say, is lost in cyberspace. So with smoke fuming outta my ears, I shut friendster and swear to leave my account as plain as it is without any updates until the next time I feel insecure about my ugly account compared with all the other flashy ones out there. Talking about services I hate, I still have a little steam left in me to trash Maxis. They’ve been screwing up every account I ever had, and the latest is by charging an account that has been closed for half a year. After complaining, customer service said they’ll get back to me in 7 working days but I have yet to hear anything from them besides annoying promo messages. Why do we subject ourselves to such torture?

 

Also, this is my last and final year in college. Sob ** time flies by. I just realised, I’ve never ever fully appreciated my course and what I am doing. I keep on thinking of all the courses I should have done after SPM. It doesn’t help that a lot of people keep on asking why a Science student like me upon receiving pretty decent results would do Mass Comm. I wonder if I should have realised sooner, but I do enjoy my course; it’s only all the wondering about other courses that is preventing me from totally immersing myself in what I am currently doing. Countless times I have wondered if it is true that people say I wasted my potential, I could have made more money, have a better life, not work like a dog so much if ONLY I have studied xxx…..And the stupid thing is, a part of me does yearn to know what it would have been like and well yes even after making a solemn promise never to study Science again after SPM, I do miss Science and Math. Hmmph, confessions, confessions.

Anyway, lesson learnt. 1. Never to let anyone push me into making a rush decision. 2. Enjoy what I currently have 3. Instead of looking backward asking what if, look forward and see what I can do about the future.

I knew this all along but never admitted it. I can’t enjoy vanilla ice-cream while thinking about chocolate ice-cream. Silly me.

 

 

 

 

The short movie titled ‘Still Frame’ which revolves around a kid who knows how to make the best out of life despite her being disabled had been completed and submitted for the BMW shorties short film competition about 3 weeks ago. Proudly done together with my dear friends Derrik and Ben Len and also with Michelle, Parthiban, Shanice (cute little 8 year old) and a load of other wonderful people that doubled up as casts, extras and crew. Though, I must humbly say the quality of it comes no where near the shortlisted 10 that can be viewed on www.bmw.com.my/shorties , still am proud to have done it anyway. At least I know I did it with passion J On the other hand, my dear friend Derrik who was initially really proud of our work seemed to have had his ego beaten up when he viewed the shortlisted movies.

 

“I feel so embarrassed of our film,” I remember him telling me. But really, isn’t joining competitions about challenging yourself? As long as you give your best, you really should be proud don’t you think? What more this being our first film, and we were producing it with ZERO film production knowledge. From the time my friends and I huddled in our lecturer advisor’s small cubicle listening in awe about some basic lighting techniques we never knew of to the hours and days spent on setting up the set and coaxing our youngest actress Shanice to not be camera shy, it was all worth it. Every minute of it. We did give a 100 % of whatever little we knew in producing our amateur film, and at the end of the day, finalists or not, I am happy. So Derrik, if you’re reading this cheer up ok? Few days ago, the invitation to the premier was e-mailed to Derrik since it was submitted in his name. Since he can’t make it the invitation can be extended to other production members, namely Ben and I. But the sad part is, it is meant for only one person. Shite…..

 

Anyways you guys should go check out the website. There are ten finalists there, and I must say their film shorties are pretty good. Talented Malaysians “)

In college, I have a lecturer, Ms Thong who teaches Digital Media Techniques subject where can learn analog and digital filming (or so says the course booklet)

In fact she has already prepared her syllabus and asked my class "WHY nobody pick my subject? So disappointed prepared all the course materials already!" Best part is, Taylor's NEVER asked us to choose subjects. They give, we take. Or perhaps they are SUPPOSED to, but tipu us, since they don't want timetable headache. Or maybe Ms Thong is plain blur. Dunno tht students CAN'T choose.

Hmm.. I must say I’m feeling the itch to join heheh. I have three writing classes. Reporting For Print (Taken last sem), and Advanced News Writing and Creative and Feature Writing for this sem. All different names, but it seems like we keep on learning how to write news again. Damn it. Wonder if I can drop one and take Digital Media Techniques....hehe.

 

I am embarking on some drama competition in Taylor's now. Writing a script about a suicidal girl. The script’s taking up my time and today Allison asked me to attend some PR talk with her and I couldn't she told me "You banyak drama la, good la go and write your drama script!"  *Sigh*  How come I always kena??