Hey, this is for future SMKBJ students, I hope this helps.
Lagu Sekolah
Komposer: Pn Loo Lai Kuen
SMK Bukit Jelutong,
Pusat kecemerlangan ilmu,
Pendidikan yang berkualiti,
Melahirkan insan cemerlang,
Kami pemangkin masa hadapan,
Mendukung misi sekolah,
Guru cemerlang, pelajar gemilang,
Sekolahku sentiasa gemilang,
Proaktif dan beretika,
Cogan kata sekolah kita,
Terus gigih berusaha,
Maju jaya dalam semua bidang,
SMK Bukit Jelutong,
Pusat kecemerlangan ilmu,
Penjana generasi terbilang,
Kecemerlanganmu kebangaan kita.
Proaktif dan beretika,
Cogan kata sekolah kita,
Terus gigih berusaha,
Maju jaya dalam semua bidang,
SMK Bukit Jelutong,
Pusat kecemerlangan ilmu,
Penjana generasi terbilang,
Kecemerlanganmu kebangaan kita.
May all future SMKBJ students succeed in school.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Pre-Birthday Trip to Genting
Hi, back again. I know, it hasn't been very long but still a lot has happened to me this last three days. This trip has been a bittersweet experience that I DO NOT want to relive, even in my dreams. Even typing it here will trigger my tear glands. Anyway, excluding that 'event' I had a great time going on many rides, except roller coasters. Hate to admit it, but I'm afraid of the speed and momentum that comes with the roller coaster.
The following is a list of rides I went on, with no particular order:
Come to think of it, my parents and I watched the Formula One race in our hotel room on the 4th. As a Kimi Raikkonen/Felipe Massa/Ferrari major fan, I find the race satisfying. Boo you, Hamilton !!!
I hope no one is offended by any of my posts, for I really don't mean to offend anyone. Hopefully, by the time I go back to my hometown next week, I'd have gotten over my 'event' and can thoroughly enjoy myself there.
Till next time, Au revoir ;p
The following is a list of rides I went on, with no particular order:
- Bumper Boat
- Indoor Mini Train
- Matahari Ferris Wheel
- Dinosaurland
- Euro Express (Only exception roller-coaster-wise)
- Adult Bumper Car (Yes, I'm tall enough)
- Antique Car (2nd brother drove)
- Fun Kart (Bumpy with no suspension)
- 4D Motion Master ('The Little Prince' is a heart-warming story indeed)
- Gondola Rio Float
- Outdoor Mini Train
Come to think of it, my parents and I watched the Formula One race in our hotel room on the 4th. As a Kimi Raikkonen/Felipe Massa/Ferrari major fan, I find the race satisfying. Boo you, Hamilton !!!
I hope no one is offended by any of my posts, for I really don't mean to offend anyone. Hopefully, by the time I go back to my hometown next week, I'd have gotten over my 'event' and can thoroughly enjoy myself there.
Till next time, Au revoir ;p
Friday, November 2, 2012
Harry Potter and The Philosopher's Stone Chapter 1 Part 2
Nothing written below belongs to me. All copyright belongs to J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why,that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people had to be collecting for something ... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills.
Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls sweeping past in broad daylight, though people on the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good morning until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
'The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard -'
'-yes, their son, Harry -'
Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary to not disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking ... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son named Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that ... but all the same. those people in cloaks ...
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
'Sorry,' he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: 'Don;t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles such as yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!'
And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off.
Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around it's eyes.
'Shoo!' said Mr Dursley loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together. he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs Dursley had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word ('Shan't!'). Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been thousands of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The news reader allowed himself a grin. 'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?'
'Well, Ted,' said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting strangely today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.'
Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters ...
Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously, 'Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?
As he had expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they usually pretended she didn't have a sister.
'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'
'Funny stuff on the news,' Mr Dursley mumbled. 'Owls ... shooting stars ... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today ...
'So?' snapped Mrs Dursley.
'Well, I thought ... maybe ... it had something to do with ... you know ... her lot.'
Well, here's part 2. To those reading my blog, please comment and give your opinion on my posting this. NONE of the above material belongs to me !!! ALL belongs to J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury.
But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks. Mr Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the get-ups you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of these weirdos standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr Dursley was enraged to see that a couple of them weren't young at all; why,that man had to be older than he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people had to be collecting for something ... yes, that would be it. The traffic moved on, and a few minutes later, Mr Dursley arrived in the Grunnings car park, his mind back on drills.
Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He didn't see the owls sweeping past in broad daylight, though people on the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important telephone calls and shouted a bit more. He was in a very good morning until lunch-time, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the baker's opposite.
He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This lot were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.
'The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard -'
'-yes, their son, Harry -'
Mr Dursley stopped dead. Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whisperers as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it.
He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary to not disturb him, seized his telephone and had almost finished dialling his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his moustache, thinking ... no, he was being stupid. Potter wasn't an unusual name. He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son named Harry. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew was called Harry. He'd never even seen the boy. It might have been Harvey. Or Harold. There was no point in worrying Mrs Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if he'd had a sister like that ... but all the same. those people in cloaks ...
He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon, and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.
'Sorry,' he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: 'Don;t be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles such as yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!'
And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off.
Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.
As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around it's eyes.
'Shoo!' said Mr Dursley loudly.
The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look. Was this normal cat behaviour, Mr Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together. he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.
Mrs Dursley had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learnt a new word ('Shan't!'). Mr Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living-room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:
'And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and are hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been thousands of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern.' The news reader allowed himself a grin. 'Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?'
'Well, Ted,' said the weatherman, 'I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting strangely today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of the rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight.'
Mr Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper, a whisper about the Potters ...
Mrs Dursley came into the living-room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously, 'Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?
As he had expected, Mrs Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they usually pretended she didn't have a sister.
'No,' she said sharply. 'Why?'
'Funny stuff on the news,' Mr Dursley mumbled. 'Owls ... shooting stars ... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today ...
'So?' snapped Mrs Dursley.
'Well, I thought ... maybe ... it had something to do with ... you know ... her lot.'
Well, here's part 2. To those reading my blog, please comment and give your opinion on my posting this. NONE of the above material belongs to me !!! ALL belongs to J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury.
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