Issue: Last Day of Class
Yesterday was the last day of my summer session. The last writing class was the shortest ever. All of the students were present rather early to hand in their last paper assignment and then the instructor gave us the course evaluation form. "This will determine whether or not I will get a raise, so be sincere." Kimberley packed up her stuff and said, "Goodbye and thank you for letting me help you with your writing" and then vanished. We completed the form and handed it to Tracy, the hottest babe from Mainland China, and headed home. All this took less than 30 minutes. Upon reaching my apartment, I managed to catch a rerun of the Gilmore Girls and soon fell deeply in love again with Alexis after such a long time. Now that Charlotte has got herself a new boyfriend, I thought that I might as well try to get along with Alexis again. That night, I waited for the right moment to watch my Japanese movie alone but to no avail. I got bored because everybody else was studying for the finals and was soon asleep next to my semi-naked roommate.

Issue: The Next Day
I woke up and marched to the PC. I opened up my email inbox and voila! Emails from the Online Journal Yahoo Group were lining up from top to bottom. I noticed that the same few people were writing back and forth in the mailing list. "There must be some hot discussion going on here", I told the computer screen. I read every single one of them and found out that it was merely about the purpose and membership of the mailing list. Then Jae tapped me on the mouse through MSN and said ‘Hi’. We talked about the group and the band Tool and how to log on into the group’s Yahoo page and then suddenly, Udika tapped me. She asked me to forward Jae’s ‘Malay or Malaysia’ email to her. I said ‘Okay’ and did just that. Our conversation was rather dry. I had this feeling that she was still angry with me. She even addressed me as a Mr. Faizal. I felt like an old postman.

"Hello Mr. Faizal, I wish to obtain the latest mail from my sister."
"Oh surely. It would be my pleasure, ma’am."

Issue: Myself as a Writer
As I was slapping my forehead to the notion above, I realized that I have yet to submit my last writing homework (a short journal) to my class instructor, Kimberley. Quickly, I ended the MSN session with both the girls and rushed to my dirty black bag, rummaging its content to find the title of that homework. At the bottom of the course folder, I finally found that nearly torn piece of paper that lists the titles of the short journal homework. "Write about what you have learned about yourself as a writer from this summer session." I looked at the alarm clock and it was 11:12. I am supposed to submit the journal to her via email by noon today. "There is still time left." I ran to the bathroom and dipped my head under the flowing cold water tap and smeared toothpaste onto my front row teeth (only) and grabbed my socks and shoes and ran and ran and reached the nearest computer lab just in time. I sat down and put my still trembling fingers on the keyboard and without any plan or idea, wrote the below journal:

Journal #12 [Aug 3rd 2001] – 249 words

At the end of class yesterday, as I walked homeward in the company of a bag heavy with folders and books, I realized that the past eight weeks have taught me a lot about myself as a writer. I know now that being a writer does not mean that I need to be playful with words all the time. Sometimes, a writer is required to be just plain and simple in conveying a message, especially if the message itself is strong and effective on its own.

I know now that there is no rule governing a writer’s life. A writer is not anymore that longhaired, poetry-quoting, basement-living ghost that comes out only a few times in a year, just to find a publisher and get his or her latest work published. You could be just anyone and still be good at writing. May it be an academic piece or a creative effort, if there is strong will, then there is a way.

In the end, I soon realized that I am still a writer in the making. I am not an excellent writer, but I am pretty good at working hard to become one. There are weaknesses that demand patching and repairing and there are strengths that long to be exposed and nurtured. All this requires time and support. An eight weeks session is not enough to turn myself into a Pulitzer Prize candidate but if I were to have the support that you had given me, Kimberley, then all is not impossible.

The moment I clicked on the ‘Send’ button, the computer clock was showing the time as 11: 57:24. Feeling so glad that I managed to fulfill the last task, I leaned back and stretched my arms and neck and groaned like a bear. When I opened up my eyes, everybody in the lab was looking at me with their eyes painted with disgust. "Sorry, last minute assignment."