Wei Kiat's Blog

(Dear blog readers, I was away on a short shopping trip to Malaysia. Forgot to blog about my absence before I went. These blog entries were written on paper during my trip.)

He dislike the norm. To him, things done by those around him that are also done by those around those around him holds no purpose or meaning at all. He often reasons with himself why do people do things exactly the same way as other people? Although doing things other people are doing is the kind of thing that everyone is doing, he just can't convince the neurons in his mind to create the chemical setup for that to happen.

While others around him aimed for fantastic results in examinations like A levels that doesn't even test a person intelligence, let alone interest and passion, he concentrated purely on doing what he do best, and made a huge splash about it.

People started calling him a rebel, a very interesting word that instantly conjures images of men holding rifles in their hands waving and shouting wildly in foreign tongues in minds of the uneducated (or seemingly educated) masses.

He was different. To him being a rebel is everything that he stood for. Although he did not go to the extend of chopping off or attaching a few limbs or disfiguring his face just to look different from the rest, he once considered adding a third ear for a few months until he realised that he couldn't find a earphone with 3 earpieces.

While people around him do their tutorials twice - once to get the feel of it, and once for revision, and attend every lectures like bees after nectars, he treated tutorial worksheets like leaves lying on the walkway and lectures like (insert your an event which you hate most here), he whacked on his keyboard, created The Wicked and appeared in a full page article in Digital Life.

Being different has it own sets of problems too. Being different means obstacles and problems met by him are also different from others, and he had to be really creative about solving them.

Once he tried to form his own company with two other rebels, while his female friends who were finished with the lectures and tutorials found parttime jobs at places like NTUC and Isetan, selling male undergarments for a miserably low pay and high risk of sexual harassment, and a few male friends selling ice-creams.

He met with a problem that was totally unexpected. It came in the form of a spoken sentence. That sentence was generated by his mum's vocal cord.

And it sounded something like, "Why can't you be more normal?"