Thomas Cup 2014

The embodiment of victory, the pride of nations, the success of players. This is what they're after. The Thomas Cup. You can see it in the eyes of players, that burning desire, that blazing spirit of a fighter who would strive as hard as possible to bring it back to their own lands.

But behind those blazing inferno you see, there are something more inside them players. I wonder how they feel when a match is about to start. Anxious? Nervous? Confident? And how they feel during a match. And what does one feel when one does mistakes like out balls. Especially when the whole world is watching. When the whole nation hopes on you. When you're in the last match which will determine whose hands the Thomas Cup will be in. When the points are so close and your opponent has the game point.

That pressure. With the eyes of your country and the eyes of people around the world on you, that pressure must be so much heavier than being squashed by a big Yeti.

And I wonder how they feel after a match. What do they feel when they win? Proud? Happy? Outstanding? What about when they lose? Disappointed? Hopeless? Useless? Do players quit because they lose one Thomas Cup match? Or do they keep calm and dig out their mistakes and learn from them?

I watched the match between Daren Liew and Takuma Euda. It was quite an interesting match, and a sad one too, but also a beautiful one. When Daren Liew lost points or made mistakes, I was like OH NO PLEASE NO FOCUS LIEW FOCUS. And I wonder if that was also what he had on his mind. Or not. And when Euda nailed 21 on the last round, Liew dropped his badminton racket. Was that disappointment? Sorrow? Anger? The racket slipped out of his grip gently. Like someone letting go of a rope he held on for so long, knowing that no one's going to pull him up, and let himself fall into a black pit. I might have exaggerated this but that's just what came to my mind. I wonder what his coach would say to him. What he'd say to his coach. I wonder what people think of him. What Takuma thinks. What Japanese thinks. What the whole world thinks. And what he himself thinks of what other people think of him.

But still, our players are awesome. All players are pretty awesome. Being able to summon up courage and play while the whole world watches. Being able to gather people together to witness the same wonderful thing. Being able to spark up positive spirits in people. And becoming an inspiration to many around the world. These players are amazing. Badminton is amazing.

Thomas Cup is undeniably amazing.

Stop

Have you ever had this weird experience whereby you stop doing something you used to do, or you once loved to do, or something you once had a burning passion for, something you once had a freaking talent at?

Here's an example of what I'm typing about. My aunt, who is my mother's younger sister, used to draw and paint like a pro when she was younger. Some of her artworks were hung all over my grandma's house. She even sold her masterpieces once in some exhibition or something. She was very very artistic, and if she continued to sharpen her skills and keep drawing and painting, I bet she'd be an artist featured on Instagram or some other websites. But no. She stopped. Had a job, got married, had a family. She stopped. Her job working in a bank takes up many hours of her life. So she stopped drawing and painting. Stopped creating masterpieces which she used to compose. I remembered this time which I went to her house when I was a kid and she taught me, my sister and her daughters how to paint. Once. And since then I never saw her paint again.

I learnt Taekwondo before during my primary school years. I don't remember when I started learning but I remember that we all started with THE WHITE BELT. We had to take tests to "upgrade" our belts, like going up level by level. Here's how it works: http://www.butf.com/belts.htm
Ok so I took test after test and ended up getting THE GREEN BELT. And after that, I stopped learning.

After Taekwondo, my mum sent the three of us, my brother, my sister and I to Wushu lessons. We had two coaches teaching us, a very kind and passionate couple. I found Wushu a very beautiful kind of martial art because within Wushu, there are many different types of styles you can learn and different weapons you can equip yourself with. CLICK HERE to know more about various Wushu styles. I was kind of good in Wushu, and was even given a chance to take part in a Wushu competition once. I won a silver medal in the 南拳 (Southern Fist) category, and the 4th in the sword category (but here I was counted as the last cause there were only 4 person in it haha) and I even had a Wushu costume made to wear for the competition. I continued learning until I was in Form 2, and I stopped. After all those years of painful stretching, tired running, swords, fists and wooden poles, I stopped. My coaches used to pick me up from my house early in the morning to Bukit Lima Park for Wushu lessons when I was in Form 1 and Form 2, and treated me breakfasts at nearby coffee shops, but I stopped. Their kindness was overwhelming, but I stopped.

And squash. I started learning around Form 2. Me, my sister and my brother. I had no talents in playing squash, which was pretty obvious from the way I handled the racket to the way I smacked the ball to the way I ran to catch the ball. But I continued learning anyway, for months, until a competition came. It was in Miri, known as Miri Leg. Well, my brother and I got last positions as beginners in that competition. I lost my match to an 11 year old girl. That's freaking embarrassing for me. Then when Sibu Leg came, meaning a squash competition in Sibu, I got second last, which was still pretty embarrassing because everyone in my category were much younger than me. Primary school kids. And so, realizing that I had no hope to proceed with any more squash training, I stopped. Even when the squash committee invited a professional coach all the way from Pakistan to train Sibu players, I still sucked at playing. So I stopped.

Sometimes we really do stop doing pretty much stuff that we used to do. What if we held on longer and things would be different? What if we're just a millimeter close to an extreme change, but we give up? What if that particular thing we used to do was the thing that truly made us happy, but we stopped?

Human Heat

This is not a post about science. Or about the human body temperature. Or thermal equilibrium.

Humans heat up quite easily. The inner kind of heat which starts up when one gets angry or upset. That kind of heat scares me.

This morning, my mum and I went to town and drove round and round to look for an available parking space so we could go to the Central Market. We waited behind one white Kenari which waited for a Kancil to reverse out  from its parking space so that the Kenari could park. The Kenari driver didn't notice that there was another car (I forgot what car it was so let's call it The Grey Car) which was there EARLIER than the Kenari, waiting to park in the place of the Kancil. So when the Kenari parked into that place which was supposed to be The Grey Car's place, The Grey Car's driver immediately got down from his car, slammed the car door and marched up to the Kenari's driver in full fury. Yes. I could feel human heat radiating from his facial expression and his walk. I thought he was going to stir up a fight or something but luckily the Kenari driver pulled away from that parking spot and gave it up to The Grey Car. Phew.

Just now, my mum, grandma, sister, brother and I went to Anson for dinner. And as I had expected, it was full. So we had to do the same old thing people always do there. WAIT. So we waited and waited and then there was this table of people which finished their meals and stood up and walked away and so we went to sit down but realized there were three other people waiting for the same table too. But my grandma sat down fast and my mum insisted us to just sit down. I felt really sorry for those three people and I saw their disappointed faces when they walked away. One of them frowned and shook her head and once again I could feel that human heat. Sigh.

I wish Anson would make a waiting list or something. It hurts to look at people trying to "fight" for available tables. Not real fights but there's always this kind of tension in between. Oh...I don't know. Maybe I'm too sensitive.

Human heat is actually alright because everyone has it, including myself. But too much of it will stir up chaos and cause catastrophe.

Something Faster Than The Speed Of Light

The speed of light is 299792.458 km/s, which is 299 792 458 m/s. 

Which is pretty fast.

Which is quicker than a cheetah or a Formula One race car.

The speed of time is unpredictable. It can run. It can creep.

And when time flies, it's even faster than the speed of light. In a special kind of way.

You cannot stop time when it flies

There's always this kind of indescribable sensation in one's soul when they realize suddenly that time flies.

Like when you're going to college soon and realize that two years of kindergarten, six years of primary school and five years of secondary school are over. That our once BIG examinations like UPSR, PMR and SPM are over. That your friend who have been in the same school with you since kindergarten will no longer be in the same college as you. That classmates are no longer classmates and each and everyone will be walking their own paths. That you have lost contact with some of them. That you've retired from your post as an exco in the Red Crescent Society in school and don't have to attend early morning meetings anymore. That you got your driver's licence and could drive on your own already. That you own your very first ATM Card. 

You realize you become more independent. Like being able to pack your own stuff and leave home for some time. Like driving to the grocery store alone to buy milk. 

You realize you can make decisions easily without asking your parents like how you did long ago. Like purchasing clothes you think are nice. Like going out with friends. 

You realize things change a lot. Your looks. Your accessories. Your hobbies. Your habits. Your sleep cycle. Your thoughts. Your feelings. Your fears. Your family. Your circle of friends. Your social life. Your personal life.

When time flies, it won't stop. Not even if you chase it. Not even if you offer it with money and possessions. Not even if you kneel down and beg for it. When it flies, it will never come back.