ahead of the curve.

Mainstream Is Mainstream

2012-02-10T21:36:00.000+08:00

Me: I like One Direction.

Khairina: Ew. Please. Tolonglah.

Me: I like One Direction.
Divyia: Go away.

Me: I like Niall.

Xueh Wei: No, I like him!

Hanna: Ooh, I don't wanna get in the middle of these fighting Directioners.

Me: I'm a 'Nator.

Sasha: I haven't bought my album yet.

Me: What a 'Nator.

I know it's not common or very much fun for me to dump 6 posts in a span of two days (maybe even in a span of less than 24 hours) but to be fair, I really am very tired during the weekdays and weeknights, so I have an excuse. Some people only update their blogs once a week (which is, technically, what I guess I'm doing as well) so consider yourself lucky to be able to read so much about my life.

Anyways, I like One Direction now apparently, as I have mentioned in a previous post or another. Here are some reasons why (okay, two reasons, but that's more than enough for me):

1. First, I got tired of making fun of Hanna. It made me feel like a bad friend (questionable, up for debate, etc. etc.) and puts me in a very bad position because she's listened to me moan about Chris more than she probably should have, more than an average person should listen to someone talking about him, although it is my personal belief that there is never too much listening to someone talking about him, but that is just my personal belief. So if you can't beat them, join them, that being the banner I'm standing under, and the slogan I've decided to use to advance myself in life. I am now making fun of myself as well as Hanna, and it has never been more joyous to be the one in control.

2. Everyone is complaining about how certain things are so 'mainstream' now. Nisa says she hates that word. Shut your mouth. Mainstream is a sacred word, that can only be used in the very dire of situations, and I've never said it off the bat without giving it ample amount of thought. There are stages, you know. Some things are mainstream and they only run in a tight circle for what I am assuming is a short period of time. The book Divergent is one of them. All of my friends have apparently read that book, me included, and let me tell you, it is so fucking annoying. Like, stop it. There are other fish in the sea, rows upon rows of other books (other sections) in the bookstore, and just because your friend read it and gushed about it and won't stop talking about it like it's God's singular gift to the twenty-first century, doesn't mean that you have to follow suit. If your friend gushed about and won't stop talking about suicide, you would call her motherfucking crazy. There are boundaries, friends.

Mainstream is also a word to describe a particular trend, that will run slightly longer than your garden variety fad, such as Justin Bieber, whatever kind of Asian pop people are currently jizzing over, and (I'm predicting) One Direction, mainly because of websites such as Twitter and Tumblr, which acts as a fuel to the fans to continue their persistent fangirling. These fads are the worst, mainly because they are like an unwanted flash flood that lasts longer than flash floods should, and to exterminate them is next to impossible and one can only hope that people outgrow them (and that is truly the only hope).

Lissa, as well as a few other people, asked me whether I liked One Direction and I was appalled. What kind of girl do you honestly take me for? When I leave, I want to make a mark on people, a distinct impression, and while cold and bitch and sarcastic is fine and dandy, there's one thing I've always been campaigning and lobbying for and that's unique. Snowflakey. A true individual. If there was ever a label I've lusted after, it's that. I don't want to be known as just that person who's not quite tethered to a proper reality, I want to be known as that (and cold, bitch, sarcastic is fine; no skin off my back) and as the girl who has excellent taste in music. And things. And I am ashamed for myself as well as these people whom I consider friends on a one-off basis, that they would even ask me such a question. To follow in others' footsteps sounds like an awful thing to do.

But. Mainstream, believe it or not, is not just focused solely on those who worship. You might think you're super hot dipshit, hating on things left and right and being, in essence, just the twistiest version of a fan to ever exist, but that, too, is annoying. I realized this now, after years of fighting with Twihards (okay, like two years), and after the shocking cold realization that people's comments on celebrities, such as Justin Bieber, actually have an effect on them. Good God, right? So I look around me and people are dissing so hard on One Direction and if you so much as like them for their aesthetic qualities, you'll get laughed at (in certain circles - I am sure the Form 5s will accept you with open arms), so you think you're cool, mocking people for liking something mainstream while it's the hate, as well as the worship, that's become equally as mainstream. I think it's worth noting, out of the many life experiences that I've had with having a crush on people, that the opposite of love is not, as a matter of fact, hate. It's indifference.

So both sides of extremism are equally stupid. And, hey, what can I say, make love, not war, right? So I chose the side that worships, instead of being on the fence about it, because the fence in a dangerous place to be, especially when all of your friends are freaky fans like Hanna, Xueh Wei, Intan, all of them. Hanging out with these people, I have two choices: I can resent them and hate the fuck out of them for being super lame, or I could just... jump on the bandwagon?

I don't like their songs, no way. Being a conscientious consumer of media, it is important to think and come to conclusions not clouded by rosy colored glasses of infatuation. I am aware that they are not selling music, they are selling a brand, and whether or not that brand is a facade is yet to be seen and besides which, as a consumer, as a person who's looking at the stage and not working behind it, it is honestly none of my business. That is simply a concept that is near impossible for die hard fans to grasp, as any form of criticism on anyone's part is seen as a jab. It's really society's fault in the first place, for making their crazy celebrity worship out to be something that is far more crazy than it honestly is. These fans who aren't open to criticism are insecure.

So to wrap it up, life's short. There's a need for mindless frivolity sometimes. I am not really a fan, because I honestly can't with the whole band, but separately, as opposed to an entity, the members of One Direction seem like lovely people. Taken out of the context of media, the fans are also rather mundane and far less crazy than Beliebers, although they should really get their act together if they expect to last for long. Longer than the average lifespan of a teen bopper band, anyways. I love poking fun at the fans, because they are honestly so shit dumb, but I can't do that, not to Hanna, not to most of my friends, not to people in general, because you like what you like. If you like ho yay, and can tolerate it, then by all means. If you like ponies, then buy a pony. If you like money, then steal money. If you like albino buffaloes, then force your parents to go out in the flood to find one for you. It's really that simple.

Plus, people's reactions when I tell them that I like the band is hilarious and have become pinpoint highlights of my day. I now look forward with great joy to that question.

Ahead of A Curve, Part II

2012-02-09T22:19:00.000+08:00

Apparently, "It's a girl," Hanna said dramatically, in regards to the stalker Intan had, the MPH one. We pondered over this new development, and wondered whether it affects the chain of progress, as things were. It didn't, but it's still nice to be excited over this little morsel, especially since Nisa was so confused. Later on, I was cutting out the cardboard doll piece of Harry. I was wondering which side of his hair was the front part, which was the back. Hanna told me what's what.

"It's the other way around," Hanna said sometime later, examining the Harry hairpiece in nonchalance. I glanced up at her, racked my brain, and found a topic to grasp on. "What? It's a guy?" again, I thought, thinking of the faceless Intan stalker, first a guy in a mustache, and then a girl in a headscarf, back to a guy again. "No," Hanna's response was slow, as if prompting me to think this through. I did not think it through. "It's a transsexual?" She was talking about Harry's hairpiece. What she said was the front, was the back. It was the other way around.

We were talking about Jamie Lynn Spears. Nisa thought we were talking about Kai. We were talking about her pregnancy and how nobody wanted to hire her because of it. It gets confusing after a while, chains of conversation, but when you're in it, it is hilarious. Hanna was Googling Jamie Lynn. She pronounced debut album as "de-but", like Malaysians pronounce 'the butt'.

Me: Look at the time. (9.15). I sleep at ten.

Nisa: But sometimes I text you after ten and you still answer?

Me: Well, I go to bed at ten. I read fanfiction.

Nisa: Well, what time do you usually go to sleep.

Me: I don't know. One?

I drew you guys a map. First my mother and I picked Hanna up and then we walked to Nisa's house. From Nisa's we went up the hill, through the back ways past the apartments, to Sri Aman where we walked up the beginning hill of the road run route because Nisa was embarrassed that people were staring at us from the school. We went the entire road run route in the usual 45 minutes, give or take. We ended up at my house for drinks and then walked to Kampung Tunku school. We were on the swings at the park for over half an hour before I bought us all junk at 7Eleven. We ate at the park, talked, and then walked back to Nisa's house, initially to drop her off, but then we just barged in when Nisa was about to take her homework to bring to my house. At my house, already seven, Hanna and I did homework while Nisa (the one with the most homework) played with the cats. I told her to do homework. She said no. All three of us talked until we could talk no more. A good day all in all. Intan's depressed, so she missed out on this breath of fresh air. Even after road run tomorrow, we should (and will) do this again.

"Maju sukan untuk negara!"

Ahead of A Curve

2012-02-09T22:07:00.000+08:00

Wednesday was return to school day, and I am honestly sick and tired of writing and updating everyone on my life, but I like blogging, so what can you do about that? I don't really remember much from Wednesday. We have a new schedule now so I can't look at the timetable to refresh my memory. We started the day with PE, though, and I was walking around eggshells with Nisa, because life's tough, and there's a lot of things that you have to do, and talking to Nisa wasn't one of those things.

Fate intervened, however, as it always does (I hate fate), and Nisa, Damia and I ended up crawling around the school all through Islamic Studies, doing stuff for YE. It was a lot of walking around and by the end, I couldn't even feel the strain on my muscles anymore. Chemistry was good because I like Chemistry. I had learned a lot during the holidays, and unlike Physics and Bio stuff, most of it stuck. Miracle. Praise God. I had something to do during recess so Hanna was gracious enough (forced) to replace me at the labs. I don't really know or care about much, but the labs is the worst. It's the all time low of duty-places during recess. The canteen tops the labs.

Day moved on and strolled to a halt. This is quite short, so I'll continue with Thursday, shall I? I came to school and had homework to finish, Islamic Studies from the day before, so obviously things were chaotic and messy, but from what I've recently gathered, that was just another day in the life for Divyia. Since I rung the bell, it was not much of a trouble, because my sense of timing when it concerns morning duty is excusably skewed. I think that day we started on the new timetable with BM for first period. However, we had a brief talk about road run, general and technical stuff, as well as disciplinary issues. And then we had Islamic Studies. I know we learned and I know Ustazah hates it when a lesson goes in one ear, comes out the other, but it honestly feels like that and also like I had somehow transformed into a corpse during the class. Islamic Studies makes me fuzzy in the brain. Like an acid trip. I've been making that comparison a lot lately. I haven't actually been on an acid trip. Before recess was English. Pn. Mages comes in class half an hour late and wonders why she only always has half an hour for the class.

We had Maulidur Rasul celebrations at the Surau after recess. The guy was okay, better than most, although he sort of went overboard occasionally, and I sat with Zaza and Lea and later on Khairina. I thought it was going to be a bitch to find people, considering all the white heads floating around, but I entered and immediately spotted Zaza. Blessed with the little things. Later on, Elyza said we should be dutying and keeping the students quiet. It wasn't of my own initiative, I'll admit to that, but I had a staring competition with Cassandra and she still wouldn't stand up. So, there you go. I know that we aren't up to par lately, well actually we suck a lot lately, but if there were more than the bare minimum of prefects standing up and doing the shushing job, it would have gone... better, I suppose. Although I nearly had a panic attack somewhere in the middle there because there was noise everywhere and the source was indiscernible. That's a figurative panic attack, not a real one. Those are classified in categories of their own.

I talked to Nisa like normal, even though there was no want for it, and we agreed to go walking around on the road run route later on in the day. That will be included in the next post. This is how I'm going to end this post.

Interlude: Bones

2012-02-08T21:46:00.000+08:00

“I fell in love with the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

This is why I love you: Because at first you were a good friend that I could always hug, and then after everything that happened, you're still a good friend. You are the best person I know and I can't take it that people don't understand that about you. You deserve all the happiness in the world, and that is why I like watching you have all the happiness in the world, even if it hurts. Even through the green.

This is why I love you: Because at first you tried your hardest to make me feel comfortable in my own skin. I only know of a handful of people who care more about how others feel, about themselves, than about how they feel. Come together or back apart, it will never be farther from a lie that you aren't in essence good. And that will always be the best, that we can make each other good.

Two down, one to go. She won't go.

In the Midst of Hardship

2012-02-07T21:40:00.000+08:00

I told Hanna. She's the third person to know. After Maze. After Hel. And really, she had nothing to say. It was reminiscent of that time I told Lana about me, and Lana was quiet and had nothing to say. For the things I've said about and to Lana, I apologize, and for the things I might have thought about Hanna, I take back, because there's nothing to say to that. I am fine with it because I am used to it. (See: literature that you learn in class will somehow miraculously find a way to relate itself to your life.)

A picture painted: it is hot, it is smelly, and as that's where I live, it is Malaysia. Maybe hundreds, but probably nowhere near thousands of girls squeal in delight over the release of a CD that had been released in other countries, three months prior. I am with a girl who has a special version of said CD, the so-called 'year book' and she has brought it along, mainly for the purposes of showing off, I suppose. There is people from school around, but I try to shrink into the shadows. Because this is embarrassing.

Hanna felt pity on me, I guess. Between the people carrying signs for the Presidential elections (I vote Obama!), and having their faces painted, and the general embarrassment that was the squealing, you might think my head would have started to explode. But it didn't. Hanna said she was going to have that haircut then. That's good, all in all, but mostly that fateful day at the salon led to many other shenanigans, mainly: say hello to a newly minted Directioner!

I thought it was customary to pick a favorite so considering I didn't know their names, I asked Hanna to list them out for me. I picked Niall because it sounded like the river and I guess it was the only name I had trouble pronouncing. I read the year book thing biblically. I memorized their last names. I laughed at their jokes and put my hand to my chest whenever they thanked their fans. I fake cried. It was awesome. I don't know why, but this is it. This is what I've been waiting to do with my life. Lately, life's been monotonous, depressing even, so this is the thing that I need to dig me out of this rut. This - One Direction - is perfection.

We went back downstairs, where there were even more people pretending like the owned the place. News fucking flash, none of you hos actually fucking own OU. Hanna found the line to buy the CD and I stood aside awkwardly with the row of boyfriends. Hanna insisted I come, she flapped her hands at me. So I shimmied off to her side, awkwardly, and she was fingering and sighing and orgasming over the Zayn pile, of which there were only three left. Hanna took out her money. I seized my chance. "Can I have one?" I asked, and Hanna's hand immediately flew over to Niall's pile. I said I was being serious. She said she would seriously pay. It was, all things considered, a win-win situation. If someone ever says to me, in the future, that there is no such thing as a win-win situation, I will tell them this tale of heroism on Hanna's part.

Another picture: I am happy. I clutch the CD with Niall's pretty blond face on it and press it against my chest. Hanging loosely from the fingers of my other hand is the cardboard cutout dolls of the band, ready to be cut and pasted once I reach the comforts of my own boudoir. Hanna stuffs her purchases into her bag. She is not a true fan, she is hiding her identity. On our way to MPH, we spy a bunch of girls with similar purchases, cardboard doll papers and CDs alike. I wave mine to them. They stare. They do not understand the concept of solidarity through fandom. I dislike them. They are 'Nators.

At MPH, there was more shenanigans. Apparently, Intan has a stalker who asked her to meet them (her or him or whatever gender the stalker is today. Maybe, and this is a huge possibility given my confusion, the stalker is gender-fluid) at MPH, so Hanna and I hung around the designated section, whisper-shouting Intan's name to gain attention. Only a guy with a mustache stared at us, and I think he just thought we were crazy. At the queue for buying stuff, there were a few 'Nators behind us, clutching their One Direction stuff like old women clutching pearls. (Another picture: Please, I scoff to myself. At least keep them in a bag if you're going to be that transparent. Fuckin' 'Nators.)

We went back downstairs, where Presidential shenanigans were still going strong. They were like a cult. If you can't beat them, join them, so I joined in the throng of low-level IQ and estrogen-overload. It was like an acid trip, only less fun, I would imagine. While waiting for my Dad, a girl next to us was complaining to her brother (boyfriend, friend, cousin, complete stranger?) because he had apparently bought a CD with the wrong person on the cover for her. I am okay with the sweaty girls in jeans and t-shirts, or whatever it is kids wear these days. However, the embarrassment was of seeing real grown-ass looking girls, who looked like they could be working, participating in an event such as this.

We made fun of other fans and I kept waving my CD and freebie stuff around the place and kept trying to talk to random strangers I didn’t know who were also carrying around the CD and freebie stuff, like a mark to tell each other that we are kin. In the eyes of the band, we are all the same: fans. Motherfucking cheers, mates!

Catch Me

2012-02-06T21:18:00.000+08:00

The thing is, these kinds of things are expected. I don't know how or even why, really, but just like you apparently know, can feel it in the air and on your skin, when you're about to die, it's like that as well. This. To know that something bad is going to happen before it ever really happens, like animals can sense a stampede, an earthquake, a storm. That was Monday for me, but less dramatic than the picture I painted. Or at least, that's what I'd like to think. To be honest, drama's pretty commonplace in my life. I make it so, it does not make me.

So instead of talking about what happened on Monday (because I've done enough of that), let's talk about feelings. I've always hated the term "feelings are so gay" because it makes me want to laugh out loud but then people would ask me why I'm laughing and I have not much of an answer. I mean it's an answer, but it's not, I just haven't had time to think this through, all right? Lately, time's been hard to come by. So back to Monday. It surprises me, rereading through my old blog posts, how much happened, but looking back, it seems like nothing happened, because all of that was nothing compared to what I have to face these days. The challenges are as follows, and I hate myself for listing them out, but what can you do about it? No one's going to read this anyways (which are the final words of most bloggers, I presume):

1. I have to wake up in the morning and it is treacherous. Some people sort their shit out the day before. I choose to take a different approach. Different day, different shit, so I pack my bags in the morning. There are mornings when I simply don't want to wake up and I even pick up my phone sometimes to give off my excuses but most mornings, I am fine. I wake up and go through the motions and things are fine.

2. Mornings are also when I worry about most things, because aside from night time, it's the only time I have spared for thinking and being anxious, so I check my Worry Book like a madwoman and dream up worst case scenarios. All this (plus showering, praying, getting dressed, packing my bag, having breakfast and reading fanfiction) in the span of half an hour, take note. Bitches, this is how you do mornings.

3. Okay, I'm starting to boast now and that wasn't the point of this thing. So I go to school and the car ride is also a challenge because I have to stay awake. If I fall asleep, I will be cranky when I get to school. Because the journey only takes 4 minutes, give or take.

4. I have to step foot inside the school and alter my persona from Awesome Me to Dull, Lifeless, Rule-Abiding Prefect Me, who's not bad, per se, but I prefer the version of me who stays at home, does homework, cleans her room and reads fanfiction, even though on the Nerd Scale, there really isn't that much of a difference between the two.

5. I have to make conversation with people. They are all good friends with each other, and I am just a friend. I have Hanna. She is not a morning person and neither is Thivyaa. Logging in is not a challenge, but going by the sewers in the morning is.

6. I have to make a decision whether I'm going to talk to certain people or not. I have to do it with half a mind, because the other half's still trying to decipher dreams or is still stuck at home dreaming up worst case scenarios or something, so that sucks. Usually I make mistakes in the morning, regarding who and who not to talk to. But it's such a common mistake, it's like one of those sins now. An unerasable black spot, a sin committed so thoroughly that it no longer resembles a sin.

7. (I actually like morning duty, because my relief class is ace and I ring the bell flawlessly.) I have to talk to Nisa in class, which is a moot point if she doesn't come to school (because that is what one would call talking to air) but if she does, it gets hard for me, to forgive or forget or whatever it is these humans do, because of Monday. Everything, because of Monday.

8. Recess duty at the labs is not cruel and unusual punishment. It is punishment, plain and simple, and I know this is the glass is half empty point of view, but when you're stuck under the rays of the scorching Sun and have to listen to Form 1 or 3 classes learning their Form 1 or three syllabuses, the water in the glass evaporates completely, leaving the glass not half full nor empty, but simply empty. I wish I had the reprieve of bell ringing. (But ringing in the morning is also all right.)

9. During this time, I worry about a bunch of other things. Mainly: I suck, I am not good enough, I am going to fail spectacularly, I am a bad prefect, I am a bad Head of Spotcheck, I do not compare to people like Sau Mun or Violet, I am a bad person, so on, so forth, ad nauseum. Puke. (I have counters for these, which I tell myself in the shower sometimes: I am awesome, I am not only good enough I am also the best, I am going to fail but others are going to fail worse, I am a relatively good prefect, I am doing the best as I can as Head of Spotcheck, I am (not technically, but objectively) smarter than Violet and Sau Mun, I am a good person at heart, so on, so forth; they don't work often. They work occasionally, though.)

10. And I think about people again. I think about people a lot. Try going to school and having to face your worst nightmare, try going to school and having to face your past (which is my worst nightmare, by the way). It is not fun. I do not need a reminder of how stupid I was, I know that.

11. Feeling like a fourth wheel, maybe fifth wheel, or maybe sometimes just like that kid who nobody ever wants in their group so they push her aside like a rag doll.

12. Knowing that even after the final bell rings and some assholes skip their dues and go home, you are still staying back.

13. Knowing that after the staying back period, there will be homework.

14. Knowing that there is no way in hell your mother's going to be picking you up early.

I was okay with a lot of things, most of it. I was okay with it because I've gotten used to it. It's no skin off my back, not anymore, and I am totally fine with living this kind of sad life, as you so call it. I can be pathetic. I can be pitiful. You can pity me and feel sorry for me and talk about me all you want. But why bring it up? And why not bring it up in the first place, when things were just barely there ideas in the back of your mind?

I'll never get over it. It's sad because they've all moved on, but what can I do? I'll just stay and wallow in the past and listen to sad songs. It's fine because I'm used to it. Any objections to this sort of lifestyle?

Nisa?

A Lesson In Polygamy

2012-02-05T20:55:00.000+08:00

So as I am wont to do, I've neglected to talk about Saturday and Sunday and because that was a few days ago (as opposed to a few years ago, of course), I've forgotten most of what went on. But the gist, I think I can remember the gist. I woke up bright and early on Saturday morning, at around three, because my sister's lovely cat had been kind enough to leave me a little present in the bed again. Not poop this time, thank God, just piss. But it still pissed me off. Oh, now I remember why it was such a bad morning. Number one, I woke up with a kick-ass stomach ache and had to have a little toilet time myself, if you know what I mean and I can't believe I wrote that. Number two, I came back to back, feeling slightly better albeit light-headed, to find my sheets wet. Add those and I had gotten myself a shitastic morning.

It got better, thankfully, because I banged on my parents door and commandeered the bed. I woke up pretty late, too, because Maze called and said that there's this Drama Workshop at Subang, did I want to go? I wasn't dressed (or showered), haven't had breakfast, haven't caught up on my daily dose of Chris Colfer news, and it was eleven thirty in the morning, near noon, so of course I said yes, because if I hadn't what else would I be doing for the rest of the day?

The workshop was conducted by two Chinese dudes, an Australian chick, and a Miss Priscilla or something like that, whom I know because she used to be a vocal instructor at the place Helena goes to. Vague, I know, but legit, I swear. Most of this post will be vague because I've forgotten a lot of the details - my memory's getting better every day now. Maze, Leen and I were late. Very late. Leen and I were last minute stragglers, the type of people that cats dragged in, but we paid our dues and paid our fees and things ran smoothly from then on. I have only been to one Drama workshop before and that one wasn't fun because I think everyone ended up getting too emotional and started crying over nothing. If there's one thing I hate, it's a group of people crying. I think it looks stupid from the outside, no matter how emotional it is to the people seeing it from the inside. How cold of me.

Other people I recognized who were also there were: Sufyan, Syaz (and a bunch of his friends whom I do know, acquaintances, but I don't know their names and even if I did, I won't bother trying to hazard a guess at spelling them), Nicolette and Elizah. Surprisingly, for the most part, I did not hang out with Maze, I just sat and listened to whatever they were saying or teaching or, really, to be honest, money's worth, I tell ya, because I wasn't listening to much at all. Elizah and I laughed and laughed and laughed over God knows what and we kept passing notes to each other because Syaz was sitting between us, even though nobody really cares if you're talking, this isn't exactly a classroom. I don't think we bordered on rude or downright indifference towards what the two Chinese dudes were talking about, but I just sort of spaced out for the most part.

And then we had lunch. This was two hour's in, because my gang had arrived late, but we got to enjoy the food anyways. The Chinese dudes (whose names I have forgotten but secretly remember and secretly I am embarrassed to even try to spell them) went up to Leen, Maze and I and talked to us for a bit about what went on before we came, and then they went to some other people because we weren't the only ones fashionably late. I liked the food. It was mee, common mee, but it was hot, which is a rarity. All catered food should be as hot as possible to mask the fact that they might taste like plastic or Chlorox. After that, the Australian chick taught us a little bit about history and showed us some video clips and Syaz was telling me about a play he wrote, "A Lesson In Polygamy," which he is campaigning to get us to perform. There were a lot of plot twists and stuff I never asked to know about, much less wondered in my spare time, but nevertheless, now I know them. Sufyan said he would e-mail me the script. Wonderful guy. I shall talk about in length some other post then.

To be honest, the actual drama workshop part of the Drama workshop was boring because it was nothing any of us didn't know, so mostly we talked and laughed and when it came time to do exercises, we goofed off. There were assignments here and there, but nothing to take home, and at the end of the day, everyone went home happy and sated, as if we had just had a round of sex instead of participated in a drama workshop.

The next day, woke up to McDonald's. Not a shabby way to wake up, hey. So I ate and watched Jumanji while waiting for Leen to pick me up. She is notorious for being the least punctual human being on the planet, so after the credits started rolling, that's when she rings the bell. The day's workshop was nothing extraordinary and I am just simply saying this to cover up the fact that I can't remember anything from it other than the fact that Syaz was telling his friends about his girlfriend. He sits behind me. He is cruel. I turned around to shut him up during a particularly interesting part about (I can't remember what the interesting part was, I just remember being rapt with attention) something and he smirked at me. And then it really ended sooner than I expected it to, after several more average exercises, partners and no partners, groups and no groups, that kind of thing. I mostly stuck with Elizah because she's being unnaturally kind to me and she's in the best mood these past few days. She even texted me random things. I think this is what they call progress.

I went home with Khatijah, Syaz's sister, and him, of course. Khatijah is a big fan of One Direction, despite being twenty years old. She said she finds them cute and since she apparently has nothing to do with her time (notice I didn't say 'nothing better', which would be rude), she listens to them. Sometimes. I don't believe her. I saw Up All Night in her CD case.

That is what happened during the weekend. I really expected this post to be longer. But we can't always get what we want.

You Can't Break What's Not Yours

2012-02-05T16:18:00.000+08:00

Stare, stone-faced, at something you know to be an anomaly to you. Listen, stone-hearted, to something that you hope to never overhear. Wonder, stone-brained, at how the world has change and puzzle, stone-souled, at what you have done to deserve this. Because we see it in your face, that you disapprove. We see it in your eyes, that you are angry. We see it in text and hear it in spoken letters, that it is wrong. And yet we soldier on and you have no right to stop us. We do not rule the world, not yet, because what we fight for is equality. We do not ruin lives, not yet, because you don't know yet. You don't know that while you're glaring and staring and wishing it to be over that it will never be over, because if only you knew.

If only you knew about science. If only you knew about the three heart beats. If only you knew that on some days, you have two. And you've never done anything about it, nor have you ever intended to find out. Because if you knew, that would be the official end to it all. That would be it. There will be no more happy days or happy families or happy anything, because you don't know now and you can pretend that the kids are all right. You don't know now and you can just imagine that behind closed doors, we're praying. But I'm just praying for it to go away, and then there's the other shoe.

If I were in her position, I wouldn't. I wouldn't have done that. I wouldn't told anyone because sometimes, keeping mum about it is the best way not to hurt people. Would I be much saner, happier, if I never found out? Yes. There's really no doubt about that. I have living proof of it under my roof, I have to take care of it, I have to make sure that no matter what, I am sane enough to handle it all because imagine, just imagine a day when I am mad enough, when I am hurt enough, that you stare, stone-faced, and listen, stone-hearted, and wonder, stone-brained, and puzzle, stone-souled, to tell you what she is.

I can tell that you're fighting a losing battle. We all are. We all have something to say and it's because of you that we've lost the power, that the scales have never been tipped the right way. It's because of you we don't have freedom of speech, nor do we have any sort of platform to stand on. It's a sad and cold day in hell, when we're more afraid of you than we are of the consequences. I am speaking, two-person, because I can speak for myself as much as I want, but I know that as long as nothing changes between the dynamics, that she will feel the same way, and that she does feel the same way. She must. And if not, than that too is your fault. We all have something to say, and I'm just counting down the minutes, waiting for you to say it.

Tell me, and then maybe I'll get some warped and twisted sense of closure. Tell me that I'm wrong, tell me that I shouldn't and tell me that I can't. That won't change anything but at least I know you've tried. Because I know you know. If not all of it, then just a small part. I don't know how much you know, about me, about us, but you know something, whichever one it is, and you're not saying anything. You keep blanketing it with a layer of preaching that just doesn't work. So stop. And don't stare at him like that.

Because what you don't realize is that you're staring at us like that, too.

My Presidential Pledge

2012-02-04T16:08:00.000+08:00

Since I feel bad for neglecting this blog for an entire week, I'm making it up by writing lots of posts for February. Here's a list of things regarding my family:

When my family members fart around me and don’t bother to say sorry/look sheepish. Like, okay, I appreciate how comfortable we apparently are around each other, but come on. There are things that never stop needing apologies for, despite blood connections or wedlock or whatever, and farting around someone is one of them.
Sometimes my Dad would pour unidentifiable substances down my toilet. I don't really appreciate this because a) my toilet gets clogged up sometimes and it scares me to think of those substances (sometimes liquid, sometimes solid) just staying there, floating, with nowhere else to go because down is no longer an option; and b) the heck are those substances, they look so disgusting. Today's was coffee. It stained the toilet yellow and I don't even know why I'm writing this down except for the fact that I would be eternally grateful if he stopped doing that. Or maybe if he'd flush after.
I am the youngest in my family, hence I know nothing. I don't know all these supposed adult business because I am too young, despite the fact that they expect me to act like an adult and whine when I act childlike. We are an uncommunicative family and only talk about religion. They expect me to crawl around and listen in on conversations through the slit between the door and the ground, but when I actually do crawl around and listen in on conversations through the slit between the door and the ground, they tell me I shouldn't do that. I am forced to become a Sherlock Holmes in my own house, deconstructing evidence and deducing familial problems through the clues that they have left lying around like a trail of breadcrumbs.
I am the youngest in my family, hence my siblings are all older than I am. This is great because I can ask my first brother to drive me places and he does (when the mood strikes), and my sister-in-law as well, and I don't talk to my second brother beyond him grinning and calling me nicknames that I outgrew five years ago, and I don't talk to his wife, my other sister-in-law, ever since they stopped living here, and I talk to my sister because she is, out of all of them, the most sane. However, having older siblings also has the downside of them all thinking they are better than you, and while that may be true, it ruins a teenager's developing sense of self worth to be corrected every few sentences by her siblings who are twice as old as she is. Or so that's the theory I've come up with.
My mother bought me a book of prayers for a student and in the line at Popular where we bought the book, everyone behind us were staring at me, and I stared back. She also asked me whether I would like to wear a jubah and I snorted. These are the things we talk about. We don't talk about life much, or at least I made a vow not to ever since I told her about how our teachers at school weren't teaching and she thought that I was crumbling under the pressures of Form 4 and that I just needed a little time to regroup, think about things and set my priorities straight. Once, I told her how I hated life, and she told me she'd hook me up with a friend of hers who's a therapist, and she forgot about it the next day.
I inherited my Dad's coldness (he doesn't scream at those customer service people on the phone. He just calls them out on their inadequacy in a mean way, but with no rise in volume.) and my mother's short temper (she has a short temper), which resulted in a funny moment yesterday. My mother passed by these people selling vacuums, and she asked about the price. The lady kept on insisting to show my mother a demo, so she replaced the vacuum head with something else that sucked in an entire bowling ball, and my mother was still asking about the price, so I cut in rudely to interrupt the lady's explanation of the bowling ball sucking, to ask about the price. So I just dragged my mother away, but she still wanted to know the price and then this other guy, also one of the vacuum sellers asked me where I was in a hurry to rush off to. I stared at him coldly. I stared at him for a very long time. I started at him until he was uncomfortable, flinched and looked away uncomfortably. I could have laughed or smiled evilly but I figured that would ruin the effect. I kept on staring until my mother had to drag me away. This wasn't about family, really, but it was funny.
Our fridge is older than I am.

And because I now feel guilty about airing our mildly-clean-looking laundry, I would like to issue a formal apology: I apologize for the fact that I can no longer think of what to talk about on here other than my life. I used to talk about television shows, but that sort of ended up ruining my life, and plus, I now keep the few shows I watch near and dear and close to my heart, and I hardly feel up to sharing them with people. And I guess I could talk about books, but I don't want to.

I don't have much time, I guess. I was kind of depressed a few days ago because I was pretty sure I wasn't living properly. Excessive sleep, no appetite; yup, back to depressed. It goes up and down in spikes and I guess I am in an okay mood today and yesterday mostly because I still have two more days of no school stretched in front of me. Hours just waiting to be filled. I was just thinking, the other day, that if all I do is school and then come home to do stuff for school, that I wasn't really living, that this wasn't really real life, and this can't possibly be how I'm spending the critical years of my life developing my sense of self worth. No wonder a lot of people end up depressed later on in adulthood, because their childhood sucked and their teenage life was filled by coasting from day to day, doing stuff for school.

Make me your president, World, and I promise you I will annihilate all schools and also all the people who need school to develop their sense of self worth, because those people are weird.

An Expert In Hospitality

2012-02-03T15:25:00.000+08:00

Friday was a continuation of sorts to Thursday, because apparently when you volunteered to play tour guides to a school from Indonesia, it's a two-for-one deal and you also get to skip another day of classes to play host to a horde of teachers from Kelantan. On Friday, Khairina spoke Kelantan, and none of us quite connected with the teachers, as the most probing question they asked wasn't about Korean pop, but rather about what age or form we were. The amount of times I've answered, "Form four," I tell you. The day started off with Add Math, and I think teacher was in a busy bee mode this morning because she hardly taught us anything except for the small revision bit we did on the homework, and then she told us to basically mind our own business, so Nisa and I talked and she did her Maths work from yesterday. She didn't come yesterday.

And then Puan Syarifah told us about the clash in Tasawwur and Add Math for SPM and Khairina was devastated while I just thought, well one less subject to study for. It's not an obligation, really, taking Tasawwur. I actually want to and it's not to increase the number of A's on my certificate or something (it's more to prove things to myself, as opposed to proving it to someone else because I for one don't much care for other people), but if I'm not able to, it's no skin off my back. I'm pretty lax. And as much as I think 11A's sounds pretty darn good, I'm not going to go out in search of English Lit or Economy extra classes or whatever. No use in anything there.

We went off to the library for a relief period during Civics, and halfway through that, Esther said Divyia, Khairina and I were called to the office's balcony. We arranged chairs. I discovered that Khairina and Nazureen had previously gone off to eat. Khairina was bemoaning her fate: she had sprayed too much perfume inside her shirt and she said she was feeling under the weather due to the fact that she was living in a perfume-scented shirt. I wonder what it says about my sense of smell that I thought the fragrance was kind of dim and hard to detect. Khairina seemed to be in pain. After we arranged chairs for the tables on the balcony, Sau Mun said she would call us when needed and we took that to mean "Don't go back to class. Rather, stay and hang out at the Serambi Ilmu like we were meant to be there." The thing about looking like you know what you're doing is that no one ever questions you, so no one questioned us about what the hell we were doing hanging out at the Serambi Ilmu. I headed off to class halfway to get something. The place was empty because the class was off at the Pusat Akses for BM. Only Sau Mun was there. I asked her whether she didn't want to go for BM. She said she was lazy.

It was only later on that I told Sau Mun that we had actually been hanging out in the Serambi, also skipping BM. Anyways, the teachers that were to visit our school were from Kelantan. Kelantan is a state in Malaysia. Being Malaysians, they were an hour late. When they arrived, we once again lined the walkway to the Gallery and greeted them. Puan Suhafna gave me brochures about the school to hand out to them as they walked by, but they also wanted to shake our hands, so I had to give them the brochure, and then salam them. It was awkward. It was also awkward at the Gallery, to think that the day prior we couldn't stop gushing at their shoes and how pretty they were, and Friday, Divyia just pointed out to me this teacher in a purple shirt who was making a pedo face at the camera.

We were pressed for time, since they were an hour late, so after the video presentation with the weird and depressing music, we led them up the stairs to the balcony for food. We had to serve them, which means Sau Mun and someone else pouring them coffee or tea, and the rest of us handing out these super cute Sea Master bottles to them. It's a new type of bottle and it looks like a bomb. Most of them (and later on, the Sri Aman teachers and basically all of the prefects-slash-tour-guides) kept the bottles. You go, Sea Master! After, we had a chance to eat the food, which was decidedly better than Thursday's food, while the guests watched Asmara Dana in the hall again, I guess, and I'm not crying to miss that or anything.

And after the Eco Band sang about compost to the tune of a Bollywood song, it was already half past twelve and we ended up not giving the tour after all. A bunch of them wanted to see our canteen. Divyia and I led the way and we thought they wanted to buy some water or something, but they just wanted to take pictures. Divyia was being a good tour host, showing them stuff along the way, while I just couldn't give much of a toss, because they'd be gone soon anyways.

They were gone soon, and we all returned to class. During Tasawwur, Ustazah Zubaidah assured us that if there's enough backlash, they might change the timetable for SPM, and once again, I felt a growing sense of apathy, because I couldn't care less. I spent about half an hour in the PR with Santra and Esther, talking about I don't really know what and copying down some of the day's homework that Nisa had neglected to write down in my book. It was a tiring day, full of walking and doing things, yet we didn't really get down to what we were supposed to do anyways, which was give the Kelantan teachers a tour of the school. All that fear and, as Lissa said, memorization of useless facts, were for naught. Boring day but better than average company. If school only comprised of six people, like spending the past few days with only Divyia, Khairina, Lissa, Sau Mun and Cassandra (with the occasional appearance of Nazureen), then I think I would enjoy it more.

Interlude 41

2012-02-02T00:04:00.000+08:00

"every single time the words “just a slushie” are uttered, the collective IQ of the human race takes a nosedive"

Every single time the words "Blaine Anderson is awesome" are uttered, the collective IQ of the human race takes a nosedive; Ryan Murphy gets an orgasm; I gasp and find new victims to hurl abuse at, maim and then later on after several hours of relentless torture, kill; the cats in animal shelters give a cry of dismay; and Tom catches Jerry and eats him and they have to find a new mouse to replace the Jerry that's in Tom's stomach.

An Expert In Communication

2012-02-02T00:01:00.000+08:00

I volunteered to play tour host for a visit from Indonesians on Thursdays and this is my recount of what happened that day: the night before, Sau e-mailed us (and by us, I meant Khairina, Divyia, Cass and Lissa) information on the tour route as well as little bits and pieces of things we should know about should we give them a tour of the school, and since that was what we were doing, of course I read the whole thing. I read the whole thing carelessly and barely looked twice and in the morning, Cassandra informed me that she had memorized the route. She also tried to convince Hanna to take her place because she was feeling lazy, and as her partner for the touring thing, of course I took great comfort in the fact that my partner was ecstatic to give a tour with me. Hanna gave her the cold, Victorian shoulder, and we all went off the way we were supposed to go off.

Teacher didn't come in for English, so that was fun and I did my Physics homework, which I didn't know how to do because our teacher can't teach. And then halfway through BM, we had to go and prepare ourselves for the guests coming, and of course there was nothing to prepare so we just hung around the Serambi Ilmu like that was our preparation. And then the bus came and they walked out and I swear nobody could take their eyes off of these people's shoes. Indonesians can shoe shop. There was a pair of girls in identical pairs of stilettos and they were walking on tarmac, for God's sake, and they wobbled with each step and ouch. I feel their pain because their pain is my pain, as well as the pain of practically everyone who has worn heels far too high than is gravitationally possible, gravitationally not being a word.

We greeted them with smiles because that's what good hosts do and the first thing they did was take pictures in he Gallery, which seems like a bit of a cop-out for me because you just got there and you've barely gotten your bearings and already it was picture time? Whatever, though, because I am not in charge of these things and maybe when I am older I will learn adult secrets, like why they must taking pictures be the first thing on the agenda. And then there were presentations in the hall, like our video presentation regarding the school and everything about it, and they also brought along a CD and we watched their daily student lives interspersed with scenic shots of what I guess is the area surrounding their school with a voiceover of some woman talking in Indonesian speckled English. I made friends with this girl next to me, whose name is Sonia and I guess that's how you spell it but you never know with these people. Kebu people performed Asmara Dana, which I've seen something like a billion times now, but it's still fun to watch their hands. After, the Indonesians also performed. Killer singers with killer altos with their traditional music orchestra, the instrument populating which I've already forgotten the name of. Angklong? Yeah, that sounds right. I Googled it and all. And then they have dancers, too, and about three quarters through that Javanese dance, the audio went kaput and our faces burned in embarrassment on Sri Aman's behalf, but we should get used to that. It always happens at the most critical of moments. They had another dance, too, involving a mask, and that was scary. Cassandra was scared.

The tour, with Cassandra beside me, was awkward, and Nazureen didn't waste breath not telling us that. They just trailed around, occasionally asked questions. Other people were connecting to them more than I was, because of course I had nothing to talk to them, just like I basically have nothing to talk to anyone about, other than Chris or the music that I like that no one else listens to, or TV shows, which I know some of my other schoolmates also watches but I feel strangely protective of them and talking to people about them just seems wrong, so of course that left me with zero things to talk about, unless they were interested in the Bersih rallies and somehow, I didn't think so. Sau connected to them with whatever kind of Asian pop it is that these kids listen to, and Khairina speaks Indonesian, and Divyia and Lissa are traditionally attractive people, and by that I meant that they attract people, not that they are good looking, although to that I say no comment.

So they left and everyone seemed really sad and, yeah, sure, but Cassandra and I were mostly over it, us with no hearts. We re-entered class with minutes of Bio to spare. It was a good day with free food and pretty good company, better than average.

Fourth Wheel

2012-01-31T23:28:00.000+08:00

Monday started with me forgetting to ring the bell, and after feeling completely empty the night prior because of school and how much I hate school and how much I hate people and especially about how much I hate people in school, that wasn't exactly the best start to a day, if you know what I'm saying. Which you should, because I'm being very straightforward here. So of course the Assembly passed by in a blur, with people telling me to sit down every few minutes and I don't want to sit down, damnit, but I do sit down when the Headmistress gives her speech because I know we're in for some major rambling. I appreciate that she's trying to treat us like adults who care and want to know about these things that our parents probably would want to know about (well, those nosy parents anyways), but of course the students are leaps and bounds beneath even appearing to be adults so we don't care about those things. Plus, she's probably explained to us the tiniest details about the trials and tribulations faced by a High Performance School a thousand times, as if we don't understand, will never understand, and you'd be right in that, Missy, because none of us actually understand. Nor do we care.

Leaps and bounds beneath, I tell ya. Obviously after almost falling asleep (I shit you not - I really did start to nod off somewhere towards the middle there, but of course I just stood up and that solved the problem instantaneously), I expected the day to go none better, especially considering the first subject following Assembly was the infamous Bio. Apparently people are starting to warm to her because she's started to teach but I am sorry for being the bearer of bad news, she's still not really teaching. In fact, I would place a bet of a lot of money that none of our teachers are quite teaching us, not really, and I bet you I can win that bet safe and sound. Maybe our Chemistry teacher teaches us, but she's the dictionary definition of 'listless'. Pn Yong would insist that she has no mitochondria. I would agree, that being one of the only things I happen to agree with her with. Not to badmouth the teachers or anything (even though I know full well that that is what I am doing), but seriously. If I were a new student, I would expect tons more from the teaching standards of a High Performance School. Leaps and bounds more.

And then we had Islamic Studies, and really, no idea what went on in there. I think the clock being ten minutes earlier gives the illusion that that class is a phony class, not real, a figment of one's imagination. Honestly no idea what went on during Islamic Studies. Oh, dear, more's the pity. We had Maths after recess, which was also a blur of God-what-the-hell-happened, because I think we learned, I'm pretty sure we learned, but you can never be too sure, really. And then Chemistry, in which Miss Foo came in as substitute and apparently I turned my back to her as we greeted her, and she didn't like that one bit, nope. Of course, I could have gone with the 'oh, my God, what crawled up her ass and died?' route and became mad at her, but mostly, I'm used to it (thank you, Form 2, for the little things) and I am also glad (ecstatic, really) that she remembered my name, because in Form 2, when she was my class teacher, she never did. It's the little things that makes life with Miss Foo bearable. People should learn this fact and wholeheartedly embrace it. A lot of other people got scolded as well, but I don't really care about that, so let's move on to the final class of the day, which was English, and God forbid I actually remember what we did during English.

Stayed back that day for YE. Immense confusion with the secretary and treasurer books. Things like that makes me unsure of my position as secretary, and unsure of why the hell I even wanted such a job in the first place, but hey, don't knock it 'til you try it, right? At least now I know that there isn't much fun in being a secretary, but that's life. It's not much fun. Unless you're Michael Jackson. I think he had fun no matter what people said about him. I don't actually know where that came from, it might be because I watched three Michael Jackson themed television show episodes this week. Can't deny it, though, can you? Anyways, yes, YE. After YE, I was as listless as our Chem teacher, because I just wasn't in the mood, and of course running cross country wasn't going to be fun. But like I said, you know, life isn't fun. So I just did it, soldiered through and got out the other end a marginally better person who smelled worse. I like cross country, mainly because it gives me the opportunity to hang out with a bunch of different people. Started off with Sam and Aqilah, and we (and Sasha) had planned on being as slow as possible without actually being last, but once on the road, any pacts made prior to that just sort of dissolves, because it's hot, it's tiring and there's cars driving around, flaunting the fact that they have A/C in there. Then I moved forward through the crowd and somehow found Pri, Khairin and Nadhrah, but of course that only lasted a while because hello, fourth wheel. Finally, around my house, I reunited with Hanna like something out of a Nicholas Sparks novel, and we spent the rest of the walk talking about the SAGs and how Chris was going to wear Vivienne Westwood.

The thing about cross country is that I really do not care about it much. Or at all, really, but I get really sad when I see the leaders of Blue House sad, because that's just a natural reaction, I think, and thank God for small wonders such as these which serves as the occasional one-off reminder that I am not a psychopath. But my apathy (and psychopathness) outweighs my sympathy and sadness-when-other-people-are-sad, so it's hot, it's tiring and there's cars driving around, flaunting the fact that they have A/C in there, and I really don't give a crap about road run, is what I'm trying to get at.

So Tuesday started with Add Math, which is always either first or last, and that's annoying, sure, but once again, this is where my apathy kicks in and I don't even know why I started this sentence this way in the first place if I'm only just going to express the level at which I simply do not give a fuck in the end. That's all one sentence, I bet you're surprised. Then we had Islamic Studies, what a blur, followed by Mod Math and did I even come that day, because I seriously do not remember anything. For History, we did a little presentations thing, and it was fun, I guess, because I could have fallen asleep, but I did not, so it was almost like a victorious moment for me (and for most of my classmates, I'm sure). We had English after that, and God cares what happened during, followed by BM, and I'm starting to think that I hadn't came that day after all. Nisa had nothing to do in between the completion of school and Yellow House practice, so she hung out with us accountants in Accounts, but of course, teacher didn't come because of a meeting, so Zaza and Santra and I just did our Add Math homework and people were randomly stoning in and out of the place, I don't know, don't care. Went home that day and I remember thinking it was nice to go home because I like home and I hate school.

Wednesday was okay. There was a Ridsect's thing about dengue and I should care because of my mother and all the other dead people, but apathy really does seem to be the shining star in my life, and there's a lot of things to actually care about, this being very far down on my list. I nearly fell asleep. Actually, I fell asleep. I would have started sleeping sooner if cameramen hadn't started getting their cameras all up in my face. Obviously, this is the result. When I'm looking perky and alert, they don't film me. They only do it when I look like that, like dengue is so last season, and I should be anywhere but there at the moment, which I guess is true, but I have to give a damn about dengue prevention, because out of all the diseases (diabetes, HIV) this one hits the closest to home. So... there's nothing else I can possibly add to this, other than the fact that a total number of six people texted me just to tell me my face in in that video and one of those people were my Dad.

I was sighing and mooning over A&W the whole day, so after Rangers, Hanna, Nisa and I went on over and then after, they went to my house to chill. And eat. And Nisa needed to utilize my Photoshop. Nadiah was invited but if you thought she would have said yes to that, you would be sorely mistaken and I would have pointed a finger at you and laughed heartily. I would chuckle. I have decided that "it's too far because we have to cross the LDP" is the final straw and never again am I inviting Nadiah to anything because that seems like something you do only when someone has sucked your brains out your ears and stored it in a jar and threw the jar in the ocean. And only then.

Nisa is a scaredy cat. We did not watch the entirety of The Blair Witch project because she had to go home. I did not watch the entirety of the movie because it was spooky and it was dark outside and I am not a scaredy cat, but I am also not stupid.

Bar

2012-01-30T17:23:00.000+08:00

In the previous post, I was talking about how, even though I hate it and all, I would never openly mock the school. My school. Well, maybe this is going back on that, but really, this isn't openly mocking, really. It's more like criticism, which borders a bit on mocking and/or bashing in some parts. It gets bad, but then again, if you're all preaching that it gets better, I'm sure my critique of the school (and in the grand scheme of things, its students) won't hinder you much on your path to 'getting better'.

Sri Aman as a High Performance School

My thoughts on the matter, as a student, not at all objectively, completely based on real life experiences, and I don't much give a crap if 'writing a bitchy blog post about your school' would look bad on my transcript.

Start off with the good, here's why I think Sri Aman deserves to be a High Performance School:

1. The students can get shit done. I'm not saying that this isn't the case for most public or day schools even, but I really think that when it comes to organizing events or orchestrating a function (basically two same things but I just changed the words to make this sentence longer), we do get shit done and done well. Well, our sound system's for the dogs, but I'll get back to this later and it doesn't much matter, really, but other than that? I think that as far as independence goes, the school teaches the students to be that and maybe a little bit of something more on the side, but let's not get mushy.

2. The students know how to have fun. Well, most of them, anyways.

3. The students are really cooperative when there's an event. Not cooperative towards the prefects, just cooperative in general. There's this term for it, but I hate the word: it's called 'sporting' and I'm sure I'm not excessively tooting horns here when I say that that's exactly what Sri Amanians are. Except for the rare few, like me, who thinks it's ridiculous to get excited over a photography session at a Ridsect's convention, but only an express few.

4. We are, overall, not bad. This is what I tell myself most days. Obviously, when there's a trip/homestay programme/immersion programme going on and they have a profile of schools from other countries shown on slideshows, of course I get jelly with envy. But for a Malaysian school? We are not bad. And for a High Performance School? Well, let's just say that 'not bad' is not exactly the compliment they're looking for.

And off with the bad, here's why I think Sri Aman completely, utterly, unarguably and irrevocably sucks:

1. Where to start? Attitude. First class school, seventh class mentality. I've already talked about the discipline, about how they just can't figure out how to sit down during Monday morning assemblies even though it's not like we change the Assembly procedure every stinking week, you still sit in the same stinking place; I've talked about it so many times, I think I'm tired of talking about it now. But as with mostly everyone in Malaysia, we really aren't all that concerned about cleanliness, myself included. Honestly, the canteen in disgusting. The basin in which we're supposed to place all our cups and plates after using them looks like something a Fear Factor contestant should try to stomach. I would suggest conveyor belts for us to put those stuff on but I have a feeling it's the mindset that needs to change, not the technology. Plus, they'd only find ways to fuck that up as well.

2. The inability to follow through with stuff. There's been tons of events or whatever that's been talked up and hyped, but most of them don't last more than a couple of weeks. At most. It's sad, really, our attention span.

3. The lack of qualified teachers. This may be touching on a sore subject here but I really don't understand why some teachers are even allowed to teach. They don't know the meaning of it, these specified few. They don't know the meaning of the word 'teach'. And probably a hell of a lot of other words as well.

4. For a school boasting about its usage of information technology and other computer stuff, our school website sucks. For one thing, it was never updated during the holidays. Or like mostly everything before the holidays even. And I'm not trying to anger the site's admins or anything because I have no clue who they are and for all I know they could be dangerous or... the Headmistress or something, but whatever layout that is, I call it ugly. In relation to this, whatever interactive classroom learning we're supposed to have with the aid of computers, it's basically useless. Teachers just ask us to do PowerPoint presentations and it's the equivalent of doing a presentation on mahjong paper. So I don't know what we're actually boasting about. I mean, for all I know, other schools are so backwards and stuck in the stone ages that they write on clay or papyrus or something but if what we're doing now is considered progressive, then I shudder to think of what else is out there.

5. Sound system is embarrassing. I've yet to go to another school and have music cut off in the middle of a performance. That happens at Sri Aman, and in my short four years of being there, it's happened more than I've been able to count.

Now, that was a shorter list than you expected, right? Mostly because my main problem with the school is number one. It's not that hard to start thinking about image, it's not that hard to do what you're supposed to do. I've mentioned countless times how much I hate the fact that they've started playing music in the canteen because when I think of school, I mainly think of prison. It's a prison, and I have to pay my five year sentence, and the music gets kind of too happy happy for a prison-like environment. That's the easiest way to view it, though, school as a fortress of torture. Because that's what it is and I've accepted that. I guess those people, who look like they own it all, I guess they like school, like truly and actually, and that's why life goes on easier for them. It's not like I haven't tried, it's just that it's never been successful or anything.

I'm not at all saying that those faults (and kudos) belong specifically to Sri Aman, and Sri Aman only. They're pretty common, actually. We actually do live in Malaysia, so certain things are to be expected. If I changed schools or anything, it's not going to get any better, and it definitely isn't going to be any different, not in a groundbreaking way. Of course, there are international schools or certain private schools, which have different atmospheres entirely. But then there are different problems to face, like snobbishness, or vapidity. Sri Amanians aren't vapid or snobby, they're just shallow and for the most part, crass.

I've said all that I can think of to write. At this stage of my life, I no longer care for apologizing.

The One Week Blur

2012-01-29T16:14:00.000+08:00

Since this all occurred a bare minimum of seven days ago, you'd think I would still remember everything that I did on Friday, right? You'd be very, very wrong, because the only thing I remember doing on Friday is maybe a little bit of homework (but probably none because I had finished mostly everything by that point) and it's not like I read fanfiction or anything because I distinctly remember only doing that on Sunday, to while away the hours until I am called back to face the destiny that nobody really ever wants to face that is school. (I hate that sentence, but nobody but me cares anyway, and I can't be bothered to backspace now). Friday was just a non-event then, and that is how I would like to remember my holidays. Indeed, looking back upon that one week of solitude and bliss from the outside world (of school), I realized that I probably should have been more thankful for what I've got, and maybe I should even have utilized my time better, but who cares, what's done is done, and all that's spilt milk now.

Saturday was a little bit more eventful, but I still think it was a colossal waste of my time and let me tell you why. I volunteered to make the class time table to stick at the front of the class and, sure, I got all the stuff ready and I've had the design planned for days but to execute it all was just a disaster. I woke up at eleven and by twelve something, I haven't accomplished anything beyond just laying down the papers, nothing else, not even cutting paper or making lines on it to cut later on. So I called Hanna.

That's how I spent my Saturday. Hanna did her homework and gave suggestions whenever necessary, and I worked tirelessly to the bone trying to finish it all in one day, I even held in my pee for around six hours. Sorry, bladder! Was I satisfied with the results? Hell no. I think there's a picture of it up on my Tumblr, and it has this bird that I drew (which I'm very proud of - I may have used references on Google and all but the paintjob I did for it was incredible, if I do say so myself) and basically everything else sucked, I hated the shape of my leaves, and I didn't even bother with neatness, I just sort of chucked all my ideas on a manilla card and called it a day. But overall, I was satisfied with the amount of time I put in, even if it looked effortless (in a bad way). From another person's eyes, it's probably nice. Nice-ish.

I did think I wasted a whole day doing that and nothing else, so it was to great panic that I faced the night with the knowledge that I had no effing clue what topic I was to present for my oral report. I was mainly worried about English, because that was a subject I could inject flair and individualism into, unlike BM, which I'm thinking, I'll just memorize something from a magazine or something. With enough practice it'll flow by nicely and I'm good at memorizing stuff. So that was settled for BM, but what of English? After many a debate (and lots of internal wars), I decided to do it on castrati. That was a tough decision and one that I went back on several times over. I know that I could lose favor with teacher completely if she took it the wrong way, which she probably will because honestly these Malaysians, but whatever. That's what I want to do at the moment, and that is what I shall do. Everything else that I had considered doing (Chris, Judy Garland, Freddie Mercury) sounded too gay and I probably would end up crying if I talked about Chris or Judy, so you know what, stick to something safe, but something that you know. I know voice. I know castrati. Well, not really. But I know what they are, which is more than can be said for most people, you know. Plus, at the end, there was this little criticism of how modern day society and media view men with higher voices as undesirable artists (or, like, boys with higher voices, like Justin Bieber and whoever else followed his tween act), and I liked that part. Another plus, I managed to fit Chris in there somewhere, talking about his range. It's something I like and it's something I like to talk about. So, teacher, why the hell would I get criticized for choosing this topic?

Sunday I read fanfiction and wasted a whole lot of time, but at the end of the day, I was ready for school. You know, I will look back fondly upon memories of high school, but there's no denying one thing: school itself, as an entity, as a being, sucks big time, and I for one will never pledge my love or allegiance to school, even though I wouldn't just throw away my morals and openly mock it on its own turf. I hate school. There really need not be any more to it than that.

Silver Slivers

2012-01-27T15:45:00.000+08:00

Just excuse me if I get any of this information wrong, because even though this was a week ago, I still feel obligated to talk about it because I am a good blogger. Sue me. Well, so, on Wednesday, Hanna, Nisa, Intan and I guess I invited Nadiah as well but what use is that, really, were invited to my house for a sleepover. I don't even think it was my idea, but regardless I agreed to it so that's reason enough for me. No big specific reason, though. Just an average holiday sleepover.

What happened was this: Hanna said she was going to be there at five, and of course, at five, I was still in my pajamas, surfing the 'net and have I had a shower yet? Can't remember. Despite the state of my personal hygiene, I managed to pull it all together before Nisa arrived sometime around or before seven, and we hung out in my room, laughing like the bunch of loons that we are.

After Hanna arrived, I guess things started to progress. The great thing about sleepovers of our day and age is probably the fact that you can choose to separate yourself from the group at any moment you choose and go hang out on your laptop instead. It's really so great. So that's what we did, amid on and off conversations, until one of us (I think it was me, because if it were up to the three of us put together, we wouldn't be able to come up with a satisfactory decision that quickly) decided to order pizza for dinner and that was what we did. While waiting for the pizza, Hanna got on Skype with Intan, I think, and we managed to convince her and her mother to come over.

We talked a lot more and... yeah, we just talked until I heard the bell ring and the pizza guy came. We had pizza and then halfway through eating and talking, I heard the bell ring again and we assumed it was Intan and that assumption was correct. Turns out she had been waiting out there for nearly an hour and when she got in, she was near tears because it can't be a happy sort of activity to do, hang around someone's house for nearly half an hour. It's not like my bell's shot or anything, I heard it just fine. Neither Intan nor whoever was driving her had a phone in working condition. So I guess I apologized for that. For not hearing my bell.

The rest of the night was spent with more playing with my cats and... well, drag queens. For some reason, someone was rooting through Hanna's bag and found her makeup and that led to someone asking me for my makeup and I refused but I allowed them to play with my old makeup and then someone found that seashell full of glitter I bought at a market at Australia and since one thing leads to another, before we knew it, we had all ended up looking like drag queens. We took pictures but soon after, Afreena got on Skype and we washed our faces because it was just weird talking to her looking caked in several layers of makeup and glitter.

Afreena got a haircut. I don't know what everyone else is talking about but I like it. I don't know, I've always liked shorter hair. So then I guess we just all talked. Mostly about One Direction, so of course, I was not part of the conversation. And then I think I pissed Hanna off by pretending to not know who Ed Sheeran was and leering at everyone as they flailed over his music. Hanna was like, "What? You think I only listen to pop?" and I remember her excited text from a few years ago in which she told me that she was listening to indie pop and I leered at her some more.

We had planned on waking up at seven or something for a brisk walk. I don't know whether I wrote about this up there or not but I couldn't be bothered to reread. We all ended up waking close to twelve or something like that. That morning was crazy, though. The cats were climbing all over the place so I had to get them out and the space was so crowded what with the extra mattress and all so I decided to take one cat at a time. Got Caesar first and then just as I was trying to very carefully step over the unconscious bodies on the mattress, I tripped over one of them and fell on Nisa, sending the cat scrambling away. So it took two trips for two cats and then I got Fluffy in the room and he wasn't enjoying himself so I had to get up again to let him out. That was crazy.

We decided on a very late brunch of sorts at Citta. Hanna insisted on that same cafe we went to some time ago, but it was packed since it was lunch hour and all, so we went to Wondermilk because Nisa wanted some s'mores. And then we went "grocery shopping" and then we went to have lunch. Brunch. Whatever. Finally. Brunch was okay because I had lasagna and it was kind of huge so you bet I didn't finish it. Intan loved it, though, so she let her spaghetti go to waste and basically finished all of the leftover lasagna. And Nisa, of course. She's my go-to leftover-food-finisher. It was also funny because Intan confused Carlos Santana with Stevie Wonder. Really, that was a good time.

A little later on, after we talked about things to not talk about, Afreena (on Skype again) showed us around her school and hid us in her bag. It must be weird starting school in a new place, a new country and all. To be honest, I haven't quite reconciled the old Afreena, the one back from primary, with the one that's in UK right now, that's why it's a little weird to think about it as 'one of my best friends who's now living in the UK'. It's not that I don't like her or anything, the contrary - after that whole Form 1 thing, I still consider her the nicest among the rest - but I just think I was more or less friends with the old her and she changed drastically, it was harder for me to recognize her, thus paying her the same attention as I would a friend.

We went home after that and for some reason, Nisa or Hanna or whoever, wanted to take a walk around the neighborhood. We did that and it was just getting enjoyable. We found a shortcut walk through the mosque that can be utilized for Road Run. But then it started to rain so we had to go home. Well, back to my house at least. After that everyone went home and it was me and my cats.

Smokey pooped on my bed that night and I was depressed about that, but also about the fact that there were another three days left until school started back up again. I think that this, as a post, is long enough.

Effie's Sense of Entitlement

2012-01-26T14:48:00.000+08:00

According to Out of the FOG (I don't know, I just Googled 'Sense of Entitlement' and got this), Entitlement or a 'Sense of Entitlement' is an unrealistic, unmerited or inappropriate expectation of favorable living conditions and favorable treatment at the hands of others. So be warned, you'll get offended reading this post.

So I don't really know how to write a captivating introduction, so I'll just begin with the obvious: most of my friends like One Direction. Actually, no strike that, four out of five of my friends like One Direction, and some of my Tumblr friends do as well, and not to mention, people like Maze and Karen find them adorable and worth listening to. But for the sake of this post, let's just focus on Hanna (and Intan, Raihan, Afreena and as an add-on, Nadiah as well). I first learnt of Hanna's love for Zayn Malik... I think during or before last year's holidays, and then somewhere along the way she stopped being what they term a 'Directionator' and become a 'Directioner'. Moving on.

I decided sometime last year that I wasn't going to judge people for their tastes in music, of all things. For example, from a technical point of view, most of the current popular songs may not hold much merit, or are at all enjoyable to listen to, but no matter how bad a band or solo artist, they'll have some fans. A lot? A little? Who cares. But start up a band, sing a song, and someone will be brave enough to admit to liking you. This is because, of course, we all have different views and perspectives on things and this is a fact that's never going to change. So I, as an individual, have no right to judge someone for their tastes in music. Of course, I'm allowed to judge the band/artist themselves, because putting yourself up for public grabs like that is just asking for it. But the fans themselves, I have absolutely no right to comment on.

Of course I still do comment. I just try to lessen my judgment. Case in point, I think years ago, when I was still pointlessly and rather mirthfully arguing Twilight versus Harry Potter on cyber forums, I would have not found it a burden at all to criticize and judge my friends who like Justin Bieber. Now I refrain because hey, a lot of people like his music, and merit or no merit, the fact that he was able to attract that many fans in itself in commendable and definitely applaudable, which is surprisingly not a word.

So when Hanna began her life as a full-fledged 'Directioner' (and I will use air quotes all I want - this is, after all, my blog), I thought to myself, okay, you can do this. You can do this even though you've heard that one song of theirs (What Makes You Beautiful) and feel like blasting the person who wrote the lyrics to smithereens. You can do this even though you're pretty sure that when you look up ho yay in the dictionary, a picture of the band hugging one another will be there right next to the definition. Because she sacrificed a lot of her attention for your love for Chris Colfer. Switching back to first person now, it was all right at first. Nothing was out of the ordinary. When I went to that sleepover at Raihan's two days before the PMR results and when we went out to karaoke and they went wild as a pack of dogs singing that song, I felt a mild twinge of annoyance, but only because Nisa and I were, for the most part, left to the side.

1. The Band: Public Personas Wrought with Maybe Intentional, Maybe Unintentional Ho Yay

I guess I sort of started becoming angry after we no longer had anything to talk about. I mean, all she wanted to talk about was One Direction during most of the subsequent sleepovers. Okay, all of the subsequent sleepovers. So that meant that the sleepover I had at Hanna's before the Form 1 Orientation session was held in almost utter silence except for the sounds of our tapping keyboards. Well, the occasional sounds of our tapping keyboards. That was the night the band itself, as an entity, as an image, started to annoy me. Not because of Hanna, nor because of their fans, but because of the way they present themselves.

Offense, but Nisa and I have come to the conclusion that they, like thousands of other artists out there, I'm sure, only made it big because they're good looking. Because they're good looking, are average to good singers, and there's five of them. But it's more than that. It's ho yay. And really, I hate to use this term for something that's not fictional, because at least with fiction, there's a hidden intent behind the characters because they have been thought up of and written by someone else. But come on. You only need to see one video of their interviews together. And I sort of wonder whether it's intentional. Whether there's a hidden intent behind the public mannerisms of these boys as they were thought up of by their manager (or PR people or whomever). But that last part's going too far, too much speculation, but to be honest, if these butt crazy girls can come up with weird speculation about the private lives of these five boys, then why the fuck can't I?

2. The Fans as I Know Them: In Direct Violation of My Anti-RPF Movement

I guess I should start from the beginning: I do not support real pairing shipping, fanfiction, fanart and on bad days, I even hate the bejeezus out of real pairing speculation. Most of my friends know by now that talking about those kinds of things would only invite my wrath into the conversation. Surrounding myself with crazy people on the Internet does wonders to you. I am in no certain terms trying to sit on a high horse here, but ever since that slight detour with Monfer, I've sworn off even thinking about Chris' personal life, at least not past what he's been comfortable sharing with the public.

So you can imagine my kind of rage, kind of disgust at the fact that my friends read RPF and openly discuss and debate about the boys' private lives. And they shot back with, "But you read fanfiction, too." I understand what the RPF writers have to say in defense of themselves: that the characters in their story are fictional and are no way represented by who they are in real life, but haven't you guys read Princess Diaries? When Mia wrote about whoever that guy who hates it when they put corn in his chili's name is, and how he killed himself, and how much she regretted doing it because she wrote about a real person? And then the argument comes up with, "But we're not exactly writing about some person we know personally, like that guy who hates it when they put corn in his chili. We're writing about someone we don't know personally, but exists in real life as a real person." And really, doesn't that make it so much worse?

And then my friends tried to play the, "But you read about Kurt, and Kurt is portrayed by Chris, so aren't you technically reading about Chris?" and really, that's just dumb, because you're talking to a person who spends her days actively trying to explain to people the differences between Kurt and Chris, so argument invalid.

I hate it that they discuss the boys and whoever the fuck they're dating. I hate it that they don't honor and respect their privacy. And most of all, I hate it that One Direction, as a band, as an entity, seem like they don't care much about all of this, and they seem like their sole purpose is to exist, sing, look hot, and have their fans discuss their private lives.

3. The Fans In General: Beliebers Do It Better (A Generalization)

Maybe it's because Beliebers are used to constant taunts of how Justin sounds (and occasionally how he looks) like a girl, but another thing that annoys me about my friends as fans of the band is the fact that they can't take a hit. I jokingly insult Justin all the time and surprisingly, Beliebers sometimes agree with me or laugh with me. Aside from existing to be fawned over and to discuss their private lives, One Direction also exist to be worshiped.

They just can't take a hit. And they're bad. I've already explained why I think they're bad up there, from lyrics to public personas. Directioners or 'Nators, take note: just accept it and enjoy them frivolously, with the full knowledge that they're not the best band to have ever existed, and with the full knowledge and acceptance of the fact that you just like them because of what they look like and how they interact with each other in a very gay manner.

4. Tying It All Together: My Sense of Entitlement

The whole Directioner versus Directionator thing is very stupid. I'll admit, I get that way when it comes to Chris Colfer and Harry Potter, too. Well, mostly Harry Potter, because people around here aren't really fans of Chris Colfer because he's gay? I put people down when they call themselves huge Harry Potter fans because I know I've been in it longer, that I deserve to place higher up than them, that I've done more and wasted a whole lot more time than they have. And, of course, Directioners or whatever can feel as entitled as they want to when it comes to people who 'only pretend to like the band'. And I guess this is where my entire argument for this section gets thrown way over board but I don't much care, but the thing is, is that they're just not that good to fight over.

It doesn't make much sense to me, as an outsider and as a music lover with a trained ear, to get entitled over such a frivolous thing, and in some words, I've expressed this to Hanna. And she just stared at me.

So as a conclusion, it's all right, I guess. The first three things are super annoying, but the last one was just my sense of entitlement speaking. I was feeling entitled over other people's sense of entitlement, because I believe that to be a Directioner or a Directionator, having a sense of entitlement is kind of useless. But who cares? It's called an opinion. On the grand scale, it doesn't have to be right or wrong, it just has to be.

So when I get entitled over Harry Potter and no one tells me that it's a useless effort, that's okay. When I get entitled over Harry Potter and people shoot me down and call me a bitch, that's okay. When I call Hanna out on how stupid it is to have a sense of entitlement over One Direction and she stays quiet, that's okay as well. It's called a perspective, and a sense of entitlement is just part of that, so whether you care enough to fight for yourself or whether you care more for what you internally feel is right, that's both okay, and it's both up to you, whoever you are.

Three's A Crowd

2012-01-25T13:57:00.000+08:00

This happened, like, a week ago, so I'm not liable to any mistakes caused by my poor memory. But probably you will believe everything I write because you don't know otherwise. Last post I wrote was around this week, but I have neglected to mention what happened before all of that, and basically what happened before all of that was that I went to my grandparents' place for a kenduri. And I'll be honest here, I have no clue what the kenduri was actually for. When my mother told me about it, she said it was a mixture of stuff. When I heard the speech she made at the kenduri, she also said it was for a mixture of stuff, and I assume that it's just for a mixture of stuff, all unimportant enough in the grand scheme of things for me to write down.

Anyways. My sister came at around 7 or 8 or something, and damn, I hate writing numbers in numerals. She was caught in a traffic jam, so nobody blames her or anything. Besides, we were going to leave after dinner anyways. I had already placed my dinner order with my Dad since we were eating takeaway, but we called my sister and she was already very near so we decided that McDonald's on the way it was. When she came, she brought her cats.

Oh, my God, they are so fluffy. But more on that later. I didn't have much time to hang out with the cats, and besides, Smokey kept running away whenever I went too near. We packed up and left and all of that, and arrived at around... late. I don't remember much about, well, much, but I guess after the obvious nightly routine of teeth brushing, I went to bed on the sofa in the front room. I woke up super early the next day, because according to my mother, it was already past eight and people were due to arrive 'any minute now' (people were actually due to arrive at nine). Other than that, it was also only seven thirty and for this particular occasion, my mother decided to be more than punctual. Not that I mind all that much. Waking up earlier meant the shower was free, unlike if I had woken up, say, an hour later.

So people did start arriving at around nine, and for the most part, I lurked in the shadows. Sometime through maybe eleven o'clock, I fell asleep after finishing reading Spirit Walker (Hanna's book that I had borrowed at the start of the major holidays last year) and woke up at about one to the sounds of people pestering me to get up and eat. My Dad, especially, was being extra annoying, because he said I had to 'mix around' and 'be with people' and sure, I did that for a while, but I have a daily quota, you know, and luckily by that time, the guests had left, leaving only family members; otherwise, that would have been wasted time in the grand scheme of my quota.

Um, I can't really remember much of what happened after. I guess my sister and cousin and I, we went out to Old Town and had a sort of tea meal of sorts. And talked, because it's not like we played poker or anything. By night time, there was KFC and cake at the house and I guess that was when I had reached my daily quota. So I begged and pleaded and bothered my mother to get ready so we could go home, and I couldn't seem to locate my pillows and blanket so I asked my Dad whether he had put them in the car, and he said yes.

So naturally, two hours or about later, when we're in front of our house's gate and I was ready to hit the hay, I asked the people sitting at the back seats, my mother and sister, for my pillows and they were... not there. That was a bad night. I cried the whole night. It may seem silly, but other than sleepovers in which I purposely leave my pillows at home, I've never gone a night without them. So, really, I don't care what people think, and just for this occasion, I've ceased to care that people in certain parts of the world have never even had the luxury of seeing a down pillow, it really doesn't matter, because that was such a stupid thing to have happened and to have happened to me, of all people. I slept with the cats tonight.

There're two of them: Caesar and Smokey. Smokey is my sister's cat and Caesar is well on his way to being my sister's as well. The two of them grew up together-ish, and they're both male, but they don't fight at all because of the first fact. They run around and tackle each other and climb my windows and curtains, and they also lick each other all the time. I've got it on video. Smokey's started to warm up to me: he still runs away whenever I approach him without warning, but if I just sit there quietly, he'll come to me and nuzzle up against whatever body part of mine he's taken a fancy to at the moment and purr really deeply. I didn't realize different cats have different purrs. Should've, I know, but I've been with Fluffy for more than 9 years so I'm used to his short of calm and subdued and constant purr. Smokey purrs deep and rough and kind of... puffy, if that made sense. I've yet to hear Caesar purr, because he's cold and snobbish and very much like a cat, but my sister said he'll soon warm up to me, which I'm not seeing anytime soon, if you asked me. When in their presence, I refer to myself as The Hand that Feeds Them, just for fun.

The next day, Monday, I think it was, we went out to have lunch together. I was still in a foul mood because of the whole pillow thing, but my mood worsened because of some other crap put together that I would just rather forget about and not write down. Things ended with another sort of quarrel in the car, in which I told my Dad that he shouldn't tell me off for being moody about a pillow, because sometimes he's moody for no reason at all. I think I very much hated the rest of that day, so maybe I kept to myself and the cats for the most part, but really, I don't much care for what happened. My sister left the following morning, and since I can't remember the gaps in between, I won't strain my brain trying to.

So that was what happened during the weekend. It wasn't a bad weekend, really. It just ended on a sour note. I know that pillows might seem like one of the most trivial things to get upset over, but all of this happened something like a week ago, and I couldn't care less about my overreaction now. Not that I consider it much of an overreaction in the first place. You try sleeping with five pillows on a daily basis and ending up with only three.

Generation Gap

2012-01-23T22:52:00.002+08:00

They say that God won't give you more than you can handle. There's a prayer for it, a doa, from the Qur'an that we had to learn last year. I wonder if anyone still remembers it because I've forgotten. Two years ago, I thought it was too much. I thought, there was no way I'm going to make it out of the year with my sanity intact, because I've ruined things for myself. And slowly, maybe even too painfully slowly, things mended themselves. People came together, events orchestrated panned out beautifully, and I, eye of the storm, made it out okay. Thought that was the end of that, when she left, because it all started with her, really, but it didn't end. People kept on talking about her, and the wheels kept on turning, and the cycle of life never quite got back round to that part that I liked. Not yet, anyways. And then I learned, things that I should have learned from the very beginning.

It's not right. Even if I sought out help, it still doesn't make it right. I had an opinion, a long time ago, that the reason baby dumping was becoming so widespread was because of the undeniable split between traditional culture and modern-day culture. The generation gap. That if modern-day sexually active teens could reconcile their differences with their traditionalist parents, we wouldn't be having this problem. And here it exists again. "I'm just not sure anymore because what one person calls preservation, another calls it lame. What one person calls progress, another person calls treason."

If the crack wasn't so thick, if the cavern wasn't so deep, would we able to wade through the differences and settle it? I remember reading about it, and I remember thinking that "no, it's wrong" isn't always a viable answer to everything. You can tell a child that something's wrong and the child might ask why, and you can give all the answers you want, it still doesn't change the fact that you're looking at things from a different perspective. So if this happens to you, then what would you do? Would you like it if I stared you down? Would you like if I judged? Would you like to be judged?

Of course I care about torture. Of course I care about penance. Because I'm only human. And there's only so much I can take. Last year, after everything, I thought that there was no way I was going to make it out with my sanity intact. I've talked it out with so many people that it just becomes the blood that's in my mouth, the saliva behind my teeth. Because I know that if we were locked in a box and sheltered on a shelf, none of this would even be an idea. But we weren't. Free to do whatever we, I think is right, I've come to this.

How do you warp a mind? It's slow progress, slow poison. I can look at all these people and say, it's all right, it's going to be all right, because I expect it of them. I expect them to do what they've been comfortable doing all their lives and maybe, if I have my own kids one day, it'll be like that. Because if I raised them, then I'll come to expect certain things from them. And just like that, this is similar. Growing up with these people around me, it's like looking at them from the corner of my eye. Not quite there. Shadows, maybe, but opaque on a certain level only. I can stand with them, stand up for them, because when the light hits, it's like every bit that makes them a person disintegrates and flies away. It's like they're not there.

And with me, it's personal. It's my own business. It's my life, after all, and I make the calls and call the shots. If I have problem with the way I think or with the way I handle things, I'll deal with it myself. It's none of anyone else's business. "'Cause at the end of the day, we're all alone with God. No one's gonna be there and vouch for us." My problems, not yours.

And honestly I feel like such a hypocrite because after everything that's happened with me, with, well, everything, I couldn't handle it. Or at least for the moment I don't think I could. I don't think I can live like this. Because it's not a corner-of-the-eye thing, it's straight on full frontal and unexpected. I can live with everyone else and I can live with myself. I don't think I can live with this. How bad do you think I feel whenever I whisper to myself, whenever I wish not to have known? Really bad. I feel like Santana's grandmother.

Maybe it's just because I'm shouldering the burden alone. The rest, the others, people know. I tell, too. I mean, I don't go shouting it from the rooftops but I tell. And maybe that's the worse part, you know, the fact that there's two of me, one who hides and one who never lies. And the one that knows, the one that knows everything is the former.

Through them, not in spite of them.

Hell Is So Hot Right Now

2012-01-20T21:21:00.000+08:00

Wednesday will forever be known as that day that we had to suffer through about five hours of no electricity. You'd think, pah, but that's only five hours. Some people live their whole lives without electricity. You would be right. The unfortunate thing here might not be the fact that we had no electricity itself, but the rather unavoidable fact that us city kids really can't put up a happy face anymore when the lights and the fans don't run. So I'll categorize it as a definite bad day. And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that's the other side of things. After weeks of having semi-nothing days filled with both good and bad, Wednesday is unequivocal in its badness.

And it all started out so innocently, too. After battling intense hatred for this one girl in my relief class for not managing to hand in a simple Borang Maklumat Murid on time (a combo of forgetting to bring it and absence), I finally managed to heave a sigh of relief when she finally gave it to me and I explained away all my problems to Esther. And then we had PE which was... well, it was aerobics, so really, it was a disaster in the making. Not saying that each and every PE class isn't a natural disaster in the making for me, but just saying that aerobics, as a thing, probably yields worse results than things like, say, handball or softball or something.

And it was a disaster, but the important thing here is that it was an expected disaster. And it was fun as well, so there was that. During Islamic Studies, which was our next lesson, Ustazah told us about how there was going to be a blackout from ten until seven and we all thought she was joking. "You think this is a fairytale?" she asked us, only in BM. And I've got to admit, it didn't really... sink in until later. Much later. But not that later. During Mod Math, we got permission to decorate the class after we copied down our notes and stuff. Halfway through cutting leaves, Nisa pointed out that it was already past ten and the electricity was still up and running.

Of course, a few minutes later was the blackout.

What followed was disaster, on a much larger scale than aerobics during a PE class. Physics was... I'm surprised no one ended up crying. We just did module papers but for the most part, it didn't change the fact that our teacher can't teach, so that was horrible. Everyone in the lab was rowdy and restless and making a hell of a lot of noise than was necessary for such a hot and humid situation such as that. Nisa got pissed and screamed at the class to shut up and our teacher just continued to stare blankly at what I assume was the back of the lab. When the period was over, everyone was more than happy to go.

Go back to class. I suppose I've made this comparison before, but being in a cabin class really is like being a sardine in a tin of sardines. Packed, with so much goo and ick in between, and about a million other people sharing your breathing space and breathing on you. Cik Tan just talked, I think. I can't remember. I think she offered to let us go to the canteen and I was all for leaving the classroom, but most people weren't interested. The last subject of the day was English, which for some reason, the school's doing in block classes, so I shimmied off to 4SC. I can't say I'm happy about the arrangement.

I can't say I'm happy about the teacher or the classmates, although things definitely do seem better than being in 4SA and enduring Madam K's erratic teaching patterns. I can't say I'm happy to be in a class with Pri again, because I miss her and all, but seriously. Not really what I need at this particular moment in time. I can say that I'm happy to sit next to Divyia and have her in the class, even if I still get mad when I think about certain evens of last year that weren't her fault at all. So there you go.

Halfway through English, the lights came back on and the students of Sri Aman gave an almighty cheer. It's easier than you might think to get us to be all united and stuff. Maybe this blackout method will work in regards to racial integration as well. Or we might all end up killing each other. The trick is, I think, in the manipulation of the duration of the blackout. Five hours was perfect. Not too long, but hell, it was long enough.

It rained in the afternoon and carried on into the evening a bit. That was nice.

The next day started off with English, which was fun and all right, I guess. Pri showed Divyia and I this drawing of Foster the People that Nadhrah did, which I've seen online before then. Nadhrah's, like, really good (for lack of better words). I volunteered to read the poem we're currently studying aloud, since no one else raised their hands. I really don't want to seem like That Douchebag who thinks she's better than everyone (not again) but I was thinking that if I were in 4SA, I would've volunteered as well. So I'll just stick to what I think I can do: recite!

Then we had BM, and then Islamic Studies, and then recess. I've been surprised at myself this year. Apparently, I eat now. Not often or all the time or anything. Just occasionally. When the mood strikes. I'm thinking it either has to do with the fact that I now own a wallet or it's just the fact that the canteen no longer sells Coke and coffee, which is a travesty, if you asked me. They have, like, cappuccino machines in Dalton or something (not that I particularly like cappuccino - it's the principle of the thing). I also find it weird that Nisa doesn't spend recess with her Form 2 classmates anymore, but who am I to comment?

After recess on Thursdays sound bad in theory, and it's really worse in real time. It all started with Mod Math, which was all right, because I don't think Pn. Jamilah is really capable of annoying anyone, really. And then we had Bio followed by Physics, which sounds bad in theory, and it's really so, so, so much worse than what it sounds like. I think our Physics teacher cried. I felt like crying. I didn't learn anything from either lessons. All around, it was just bad.

Nisa came over to my house after Bola Baling. Yes, I have apparently weaseled my way into the Bola Baling club this year. But after the first meeting, in which we... played handball, I've decided to quit. I'm taking marks from Blue House and taking Thursdays off. I think that in the grand scheme of things, this doesn't matter at all. But back to what I was saying. Nisa had this thing she needed to finish, an article for some PRS thing or another about how to be a good student. She had originally asked me to write it and I agreed but then a little later on she said she could do it if I didn't want to, and of course I didn't want to, so where I was going with this is that Nisa ended up at my house on Thursday evening, attempting to write an article on how to be a good student the day before the article was due.

She didn't get far. That's not embarrassing. What is embarrassing is that Nisa brought her laptop and she told me how she had downloaded the week's Glee and I... sort of watched it. Well, not really. Just the performances and I really missed Sam so I watched some of his scenes on mute. I told Elia that I was going to wait for that LJ that links to Kurt-only scenes of an episode to update, and Elia told me that she's starting not to care about the characters either. "Another couple got engaged," Elia told me. And I said, "Wait, don't tell me Finn and Rachel." And of course I was joking. Of course.

But life is cruel. That was really terrible, though. I don't care if some people cried or anything, that was like a really badly written fanfiction. I couldn't even sit through the proposing scene in the auditorium even though I knew what was coming. Why am I still talking about this? This is taking up my precious time.

Friday started with Add Math. The day before, after Nisa had left, I read up a little on what we were supposed to study for Add Math that day and it was glorious because I felt like the only person in an otherwise cricket-sounds-making classroom of people who understood what teacher was teaching. And then we did some Bio work for Civics, which I still don't get. The Bio work, I mean. The PEKA. I wish we could have just copied 4SC's papers because Jing Kai was great and all, but I still don't get like most of it. Woe. We had Biology after recess, followed by Mod Math, followed by a shortish prefects meeting because I had to leave for Tasawwur, followed by a small YE shindig in the canteen with pizzas, followed by hanging out with Esther of all people in the PR until 3.30 and we surprisingly never ran out of things to talk about, followed by home.

And I really just want to end this post, oh, my God.

You Think You Can Do It (You Can't)

2012-01-17T18:57:00.002+08:00

We're treated like mutants.

So today was another one of those so-and-so days, in which there was a fair share of good moments and bad moments, all culminating into a mostly bad day but as per usual, I couldn't care less. My dad's been nagging me to get a jump start on studying lately and I know I shouldn't have said anything about the fact that I can't manage to learn anything properly in class and about how crappy more than fifty percent of our teachers are, but there you go. Lesson learnt, I guess. Don't tell your parents anything. And, you know, it's not as if I don't want to study because most of the time, that is honestly the top thing on my mind. But I am tired, and I can barely find the time, and I managed, okay? I've always managed and if I fail miserably this time, I will manage again and again and eventually, "managing" will just have to become a synonym for "excelling". Anyways, it was a bad day.

I was super sad this morning. I woke up and I guess it must have been because I slept later than my usual ten o'clock (eleven at worst), I felt so sleepy and like I hadn't had enough sleep. Blink, and before I knew it, it was already six in the morning. So I was cranky all up until I brushed my teeth after eating. Then, I started to get kind of excited because I had tons of names to suggest for our YE company this year and I'm absurdly proud of all of them. For some reason, Maze called me this morning and that took up about five minutes, so I thought I was running late but as it turns out, my clock was set ten minutes early. So I technically woke up at 5.50. Instead of making me sadder, this made me slightly happy. For some reason.

Violet was asleep in the morning, so I only got to show Cassandra and Jen the ideas for names I've concocted. I am a particularly huge fan of Midas Enterprise because aside from a throwback to some Korean drama or another, Midas was that king whose touch can turn objects into gold. And come on, that is A+ material for a YE company name, if you asked me. So the morning kind of sucked because I was hoping for more excitement and everyone was just wilting away. I didn't use enough hairspray in the morning so all through the day (the earlier parts especially) I was super annoyed at how the longer parts of my hair at the front would keep on droop droop drooping downwards past the shorter parts at the end. But this is irrelevant to what I was saying before. And for that, I apologize.

And this time around, I'm not going to say things like "you don't know what it feels like" because I admit it. You don't because you're not like that. This. And I'll admit to that now. I can never work up the courage to actually go up and say sorry because how embarrassing is that, honestly? Haven't I done enough to embarrass myself?

Even more embarrassing still is how happy I was afterwards. It's undeniable and inescapable. I was unhappy before and suddenly, like a light switch turned on, my entire mood shifted.

Back to what I was saying: uneventful morning. When the day actually started, I became really sleepy. So it came as no surprise to anyone that I almost fell asleep during the career personality test thing. I'd hate to say that those things are useless because, well, in the grand scheme of things, they are, but those guys who talked about it with us, as well as counselors, as well a whole slew of other people from other career paths, have jobs dealing with helping people figuring out what jobs they should get, so it's kind of like I'm putting down a perfectly legit career choice here. Not saying that I think that drawing thing was legit. I mean, I know it's psychology and stuff, but I'm starting to see why some people think psychology's crap.

I didn't fall asleep, so that in itself is an achievement, but I was very, very annoyed at everything. I don't know why I chose today in particular, but I guess it's just because I got off on the wrong start with the hairspray and I was still feeling residual anger at the English class placement thing yesterday. I guess. I mean, that's a possibility. Although after I settled the whole seating arrangements with Divyia, I think my innards calmed down some. Happy, maybe, even. Recess was a whole lot of nothing. I wish I didn't have to deal with recess. I mean, the break's nice, I guess, but I don't need to eat and the last thing I want to do (or, at least, the last thing I wanted to do today) was talk to people. And maybe second to that was watching Nisa watch me. And judging. She's probably judging.

Because we're all judged and I'm going to live an entire life having to be judged for this one teeny tiny thing that I don't have a problem with. That others do. That I'm apparently expected to just "deal" with. And then I die. And then I get judged some more.

The school bookshop has yet to receive that essay book I've been needing to buy since last week. Come on, this is getting ridiculous. I suppose I'm not at liberty to say anything. I don't manufacture those books. Towards the end of recess, Nisa and I were just sitting around and then these people walked by (people from INTI, who were later on slated to make us suffer through another talk) and the lady, who's apparently the Dean of Something at INTI, asked us why we weren't in class. Nisa didn't hear, and I was predictably stumped speechless by such a question. The talk itself (about studying methods - which we had to endure pre-PMR) was nothing I've never heard before and I know I'm a kinesthetic learner and I couldn't care less about the notes that they've given expanding that learning technique because I'm sixteen and I've had sixteen years to come up with my own learning technique. Learning techniques which I'm sure should be reviewed and brushed up on sometime soon, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it.

That concludes the school day itself, although I guess if you were curious enough to know, it's worth mentioning that I slept for about twenty minutes. That was probably the highlight of my day. It was awesome. Some people can't take those power naps at school but that was honestly the best sleep I've gotten this year. After school, we were all at the canteen and it's sweet that there's no need to go around in search for tables anymore. We have a stable table. I had fries. Bad fries. So, you know, don't say it was a surprise that my tummy acted up during Accounts or anything. After, I just followed Nisa around because I think at the time, the Pusat Akses, where we were having Accounts class, was still empty.

I heard Divya's voice from around there sometime later, and that's when I ditched Nisa to head to Accounts. Accounts itself wasn't so bad. I hung out at a table with Divya, Marina, Zaza and Xueh Wei and we sat smack in front and Divya seems to know what she's doing (or at least she actually has a scary passion for the subject considering she wants to be an accountant) so I'd say that that would be a pretty safe place to sit at. And for this instance, I'm going to put my one egg in just the one basket.

Xueh Wei gave me a notebook. Bless! I've been in need of one for a long time (well, a week tops) ever since the last one tore. This one's orange! She also gave me one of the best pens I've ever used, so I can say with utmost certainty right now that I love her. But not like that.

How fair is it that you want to cure us? How fair is it that you say you want to help us, but we honestly really know what you mean by that? That you want to talk us out of it, that you want us to repent. That you want us to own up to it when there's nothing to own up to. This is my business, not yours, and I don't have to tick a stupid box in a stupid survey just to feel good about myself. I can do whatever the fuck I want to do. I'll set my own boundaries.

How fair is it that we have to sit through those things? If even one of us owed to it, there will be no change. Our lives will become more miserable. I can handle it, right now, sitting in class, crying sometimes, because I know that the alternative, "talking it out", would be so much worse.

You think I care about being a better person and you're right, I do. But I want to do it on my terms and I'll figure it out myself. I don't care what the rest of us face. Selfish as that may sound, we fight our own battles. I'm still trying to get past this one thing. Just two more years and I can forget all about it. Just two more years.

We have feelings, too. And contrary to what you may have assumed, we think.

In Which I'm Better than 92%

2012-01-16T21:45:00.000+08:00

So maybe you've all guessed before my writing this but today was PMD for the form fours. But preceding that was Monday Assembly, of course, and ever since last week's "tirade by the tyrant", I've decided to tie my hair up every Monday and Friday. I forgot to bring my watch today (actually, nope, it was just in my bag - didn't realize it was in there), and man, is this getting tedious. If I wanted to list down every single thing I did or forgot to bring to school today, might as well write it all down in a list, right? But I'm not going to do that because I've started writing in paragraphs, and the post before the last, the Zoo trip one, was written in a list, so let's keep things fresh, shall we?

And that's just one paragraph and I'm already feeling like giving all this up. During PMD, I mostly hung out with Nisa and next to Nadiah and the reason I said that is because Nadiah was talking to a bunch of other people and I basically used her as a pillow and leaning post. Nisa and I just talked and we barely paid attention to those guys (but enough attention for me to form my own conclusions regarding the subject matter) but some people were super serious. Fatihah had a notebook and she was jotting everything down! That was probably the highlight of my day; also maybe when Hanna (that other one - the one with the short hair that she suspiciously gets to get away with while my hair gets rejected by The Tyrant) said "kenapa cakap banyak?" Those were the bright spots of sunshine in an otherwise mildly cloudy day.

It was fun getting to go for recess properly. It feels like it's been ages, even though it's only been eight days, give or take (I remember taking a day off and asking Le Dya to replace me sometime last week). I'm not a big fan of recess though so the excitement at getting to do something - namely, enjoy recess with the commoners - was shortlived. After recess, we continued with the whole... well, whatever that talk thing was, and it was just as blah as pre-recess, the only difference being that Hanna hung out with us this time around and I paid even less attention, if such a thing were possible. I know what you're thinking: why don't you ever practice what you preach and pay attention when people are giving a speech or whatever? Well, like I said in the previous post and like I have no problem expressing in this post, I wasn't really keen on what they had to say. So for the most part, I ignored them.

After school was kind of crap because I was in a bad mood from the whole English class placement thing (don't ask - maybe I'll talk about it once it's properly settled in my brain) and that coupled with the fact that I was to go home at six, made for one very emo me. I had nice homemade meatballs, though, so that was probably... the only good part of after school. YE wasn't bad. It wasn't good either because I think everytime I look at the turnout, I want to cry. I made secretary, which is awesome and all, and I also volunteered to be that ICT person who handles the blog (with Jen handling the pictures) and also, AJK Board, I guess. So that's a lot of work, I think, but I honestly like YE and I hope that everyone who comes on board this year will come to love it as I have. It's an ongoing process.

And what followed was something of two hours of me complaining about the woes of my life to people and Hanna and I had a discussion which prompted me to come up with the very probable statistic that I am the eight percent best. I guess this is why God put me on track to watch Lizzie McGuire yesterday. It was fun and all (and I learned so much - I mean, I watched that when I was younger and all but now that I'm older and I actually "get it", man, is Lizzie McGuire just the best. I mean, isn't it just?) but I've got to learn my lesson from that episode when Gordo thought his Science teacher was hating on him and he swapped Science projects wtih Lizzie. Just take a step back from the situation, remove myself from the equation and calm down. It's not the end of the world. Worst case scenario is ending up with my brains blown up all over the place (kudos if you get it!).

Blue practice was normal. I'm proud that I at least tried to run and I didn't end up falling behind too far. Well, you can't have it all, obviously (flips hair). I went home after that. No mood for anything else. I just flopped down on the bed and it took me ages to figure out what day it was - the Golden Globes!

I'm watching it right now and to be honest, I don't really care. Last year was kind of a bad year for movies after the epic awesome that was 2010. I'm hoping things look up this year. I'm glad that Midnight in Paris was nominated for four things and won one (I think?). I'll write more about this tomorrow, perhaps. Did Steve Buscemi not win? I don't think he did. In that case, I couldn't care less.

Just Go With It

2012-01-16T20:25:00.002+08:00

So today was PMD for us and I know what you're thinking: lame but overall enjoyable activities! Getting to spend time with friends! Day off studies! And all that crap, but nope. Not today. Today we talked about guys. And not even in the good way, you know. Not even in the what to do in so and so situation way. Basically all I got from the talk today was: don't fall in love. Don't do it. Don't go hanging out with guys. And for the love of God, don't get a boyfriend.

Two out of three of that are (barely) reasonable. Don't go hanging out with guys. Okay. Why not? That's a golden rule adults like to stick to for girls. Parents don't exactly go telling boys not to hang out with girls, but then again, how should I know, I'm a girl and therefore, I've never been raised as a guy before. However, in this situation (and in the pervasive society of rape culture that we live in in Malaysia), I for one would think it better that parents advise their sons not to do creepy stuff to girls instead of advising girls to beware. Because Earth is our home and both guys and girls deserve to coexist peacefully without girls constantly pointing the finger at guys for being creepy, and guys being creepy in the first place.

Don't get a boyfriend. Of course. That's like second in command to the "don't hang out with boys" commandment and mostly it comes into play when the girl in question failed to follow the golden rule. Or in the case of some weirdos who make friends and subsequently boyfriends through online experiences, I guess different rules apply. But those people are freaky and should be dealt with as they deserve (I'm not talking about the healthy relationships fostered through internet relations - I'm talking about those random dudes adding you on Facebook or whatever and getting all up in your business).

But don't fall in love? Don't feel? That's just weird. I mean, I understand that the number one message that they're trying to send us here is that we must love God first and foremost and definitely, without question, before our "significant others". But the whole thing sort of dropped from the sky towards the end there and it didn't seem to fit into the whole theme of the entire talk. So the whole love for God thing was overshadowed by the million times that they told us not to get a boyfriend. Not to fall in love. And you know what, that's stupid. Because (and I am admitting here that I acknowledge how our love for God should come first - or if you don't believe in God, I guess you just shouldn't love someone until they become your everything) we're sixteen. Well, some of us, anyways. And as much as I acknowledge that whole love for God thing, I also acknowledge something that we all have: hormones!

Hormones, hormones, hormones! So it's stupid, the whole thing, to absolutely neglect to even entertain the idea that we're all perfectly aware of what we're doing, and what we are perfectly aware of is how to treat our bodies. Because they make it out to be something that is so special and that you can't get back and yes, that's true, but in other countries, they're giving demonstrations on how to put on condoms. So it's sweet that they want to pretend like we're all in that Papa novel; it's sweet that they want to keep looking at us as if we have no clue what we're doing, but the fact of the matter is that this is why people throw out babies on the street. This is our sex education. Our sex education simply consists of: do not get boyfriends.

And we all know how reverse psychology works, right? Kidding, I'm not going there. I'm not actually thinking that as students we should go against everything said today at the talk. I'm just saying that most of it was crap and to the people who took it seriously, seriously? There was a moment there, somewhere in the middle, in which I thought, this is why our country is in the state that it's in. First, because of the extreme sugarcoating (as if teens these days don't participate in sexual activities - I mean, I don't, but some days, I'm not sure whether I'm the majority or the minority here). And second, because I'm pretty sure, in other countries, their main worry is date rape drugs.

Not weirdo eye-fuck magic. I mean, not saying anything against black magic - oh, wait. Crap, what am I saying? I mean, black magic is stupid. I don't know why anyone would want to fraternize with ghosts and demons just to be pretty or rich or whatever. Want to be pretty, there are plastic surgeons. Want to be rich, be a bank robber, you know? So many other choices, all of them I would place way higher above resorting to... the supernatural. I hope that before I die, this whole belief, or rather reliance, on supernatural stuff gets stamped out. Not completely, I guess, because that's impossible, but at least enough so that school students won't be taught to be wary of it. Remember guys, keep an eye out on date rape drugs. Not eye magicians.

If I ran that shindig, I would also give more credit where credit is due. Teens are stupid, yes, but for the most part, if you watch enough 90210 or Gossip Girl, you'll understand how the birds and the bees work. And how dangerous the bees' stingers are. People say, oh, don't watch that show, it's a bad show (bad as in a bad influence. Not as in Glee). People say, if you watch too much TV, you'll start to think as if you're in a TV show yourself. But what's so bad about that exactly? My drama levels are through the roof but whenever I talk to someone, I always try to see things from each and every angle I can possibly think of and come up with worst and best case scenarios. Also not saying that all of us are bright rays of sunshine. Hormones - while acceptable and are just part of everyday life - cloud perception and while, true, who can blame you, really, it's also our own responsibilities to take care of not just our bodies, but our self-respect and dignity as well. Because it doesn't matter if you've given your all away (well, it does matter, but once it's done, it's done, and there's no point in crying over spilt milk) as long as you have your self-respect intact. And there's no point in having dignity (or putting up a dignified facade) if you feel like you have no control over your body.

I am the world's number one expert on these things. Please take everything I said for granted.

Run Like the Wind

2012-01-15T14:30:00.002+08:00

Things to remember about the National Zoo Trip, featuring Hanna, Nisa, Xueh Wei, Intan and yours truly.

None of us had our MyKads with us so the lady at the counter kept asking us whether we were foreign. I snapped, Hanna said she hated the counter lady, and Nisa got pissed off at us both, which prompted us to get pissed off at Nisa. We still got the citizen price.
We bought a crap load of shit at the zoo, and it's funny, because I was talking about this with Nisa the other day and we decided to pack our own foods since the snacks sold at the zoo are all freaking overpriced. But in the end, everything went out the window and we just went with it. Just bought the RM7 ice-cream and RM2.90 peacock feather (don't ask about that last one). Hanna and I bought corn-in-a-cups while Nisa had a waffle and Xueh Wei had a pancake thing and Intan got herself a drink because she's having mouth problems (also don't ask). Hanna dropped her spoon first. Few minutes later, I did. So we wasted two spoons that day.
But it's okay. We gave back to the zoo. The face painting (five ringgit each) was money donated for the animals. Countless people stared and some were appreciative. Meanwhile, this group of guys said, "Tengok tu. Dengan ice-cream lagi," after we sauntered past in our hats, painted faces and RM7 ice-cream.
Nisa's "face infection". She thought that the face painting was her skin peeling off.
We passed by this place that I think is called Dataran Dato' Ismail Hutson and I was wondering whether you pronounce it the Malay way or the normal way (with it sounding like a regular 'hut') and Nisa was, like, "It's Hu-son. The 't' is silent." Later on, we were eating lunch at that place that sells crappy burgers, microwaved spaghetti, and surprisingly good chicken, situated right in front of that Ismail Hutson place. Nisa and I remembered the silent 't' thing and brought it up again in front of everyone else, and gullible Intan actually believed us, said, "Really?", and proceeded to spend the next few minutes wondering if we were joking or not.
On our way out, we passed by the monkey place again, so everyone was staring at this one monkey and then suddenly, Hanna squealed, and I turned and someone had said "RUN!" and everyone was running away like mad. I honestly thought there was a monkey after us or something So I started running, too. And then people were staring because we were shrieking and running and wearing animal hats and had our faces painted and I asked everyone, "Why are we running?!" and then we finally stopped for some reason and Hanna pointed to Intan's shoulder and there was a caterpillar there. Oh, my God.
And then there was this one moment outside when we were still hacking out a lung, laughing at the previous incident and then for some reason, we all ended up waving our peacock feathers around in a synchronized fashion. So I took a step back, walked away, turned around to look at them again from afar and began doubling over in laughter again. Because from an outsider's perspective, we looked like a bunch of loons escaped from the loony bin. We genuinely progressively got loonier. From the time I chastised Hanna for saying how retarded we looked in those animal hats, to the people gawping after the face painting, to the running around like animals, and finally the fucking peacock feathers.
When my Dad saw us, he started laughing and then he whipped his camera out.
Intan got me a cat plushie and I wanted to name it after Beyoncé's baby but then I realized that I really can't think of Ivy without thinking of that ho from 90210, so it's just Blue now. Actually, Bloo. Buy one, free one!
In order, this is what we did at the zoo today: monkeys, Children's area, Animal Show, walked around a lot and crap, bought hats, more animals, got our faces painted near the tiger and lion place, some insects and butterflies, some extra animals we hadn't spotted yet, lunch at that place in front of that place with a silent 't' in the name, pass by the ponies at the Children's area again and the guy there gave us some long beans to feed the pony and The Pony is so cute, pass the monkeys again, ran like the wind, bought peacock feathers at the gift shop, took pictures outside the actual zoo, and bless the souls of every living organism that saw us today.

Sunny Side Up

2012-01-13T19:26:00.000+08:00

A (For the Most Part) Happy Post

After a stupid day on Thursday - it wasn't bad, it wasn't good; it was just stupid and by the end of the day, I felt like convincing myself to fuck ethics and become an axe murderer - and basically, just after the whole funk I've been in all week, Friday was somewhat refreshing. Somewhat. Still, it can't quite possibly be categorized as a good day, because on the Good Day spectrum, it falls somewhere near the middle probably, maybe leaning just a tad bit more towards Good. Because nothing happened, not much, I think. If there had been more activity, then I probably would have said with confidence that it was a Bad Day. But this is rambling, and rambling is pointless, and I think at this point, I'm just trying to prolong this paragraph because for the life of me, I think this is going to be another boring post. Boring and maybe even shorter than the last.

Friday started off with the normal stuff. I think I broke a few rules and stuff I had set for myself in the morning but I really can't help it. My self-control is next to zero when it comes to That Matter. It put me down for a while, but after having to put on my Senior Face in front of my relief class, I think things got better. Not saying that I'm happy that one student is absent, making her incapable of handing in her Borang Maklumat Murid. I'm saying that this is, for the most part, a happy post.

YE turn out was terrible but kind of expected. I mean, I thought for sure that that was worst case scenario. Well, now that I've seen the worst case scenario right in front of my very eyes, I'm pretty sure it's all uphill from here. Violet was very upset, and so were everyone else, I think. Maybe I care, maybe I don't; bottom line is that other people are expendable. The core seven members of YE from last year (while that number may seem small and definitely insufficient) can handle a lot of crap that comes our way. We practically made the bracelets and headbands ourselves last year, minus the Form 4s (I hope none of them are reading this but what the heck; offend, offend, offend, that's all I ever do). I didn't want to join anything for Sports and Games Club but I was sort of just hanging out there and totally lost and it was either to continue doing that or give my name in to Damia and she was just right there and I just smiled at her and she didn't say anything, just held her hand out, like, "If you must." Rangers was faster to sign-up for, maybe because it's just for the Forms 4 and 5 and after that, it was just back to the class. So the first part of the day? Definitely A+ because Hanna, Nisa and I just hung around in the classroom and talked about stuff.

There's another new girl in our class and I don't know how to spell her name yet. Never mind. She's been invited into our Komsas group for BM. Speaking of BM (or rather, I was going to speak about BM, but then I thought about the new girl, so speaking of the new girl), we had that after the co-curricular activities sign-up, we had BM and we went to the Pusat Akses for some Komsas work. It was all right. I think the whole subjective thing requires more memorization, but I've never said no to memorizing stuff before. Just a matter of time. Recess was normal and same old and very boring, so thank God next week, I'll be off duty.

After recess was the very chill Mod Math lesson. I am beginning to enjoy these lessons greatly because for the love of God, it's so chill. And then we had Physics and while I did learn something, I doubt everyone in class completely got it and we spent an entire period drawing apparatuses in our notebooks. Waste of time? A little bit, but I'm not going to say no to wasting time either so it's all a matter of perspective, I guess. Never will the day come in which I say I enjoy our Physics classes (maybe next year?), but for now, we as a class will just have to find a way to deal.

Prefects meeting was a bucket of scolds and I guess after years of this, it's no skin off my back. I think this is great practice for when you get scolded at work in the future. Get scolded, get used to it, and by the end of my stint as a prefect, I'll probably be bulletproof. I'm also becoming more honest lately because I know that lying to the Top 3 will probably make them more mad than honestly owing up to your mistakes. It's not that I endorse this bucket of scolds thing. Far from it. I abhor it. But I tolerate it. Meeting dragged some so Aina and I were late to our first Tasawwur class. Here's a sob story: Ustazah Zubaidah forgot my name! Really, I mean, if we're talking about Agama, I was one of the best at that subject in Form 2. (All the years, really, if we're being honest.) So that class was about fifteen minutes. After that, I retreated to the PR, which was empty except for some last minute stragglers and Marks-File-checkers, and I had nothing else to do, so I cleaned the fuck out of that PR.

That's right. The cobwebs under the table? Gone, for the most part. The stuff under the chairs? Swept out. The weird tiny leaves sticking to the corners of the window sills? Wiped away. The dustpan and dustbin? Wiped as well. I wasn't thorough, but I tired my best. And that's all that matters.

Drama was a shock because I honestly didn't expect almost half the class gone for Foster the People. Like, what is it about that band that half the people of the class like so much? Okay, fine, so maybe if it wasThe Kills or St. Vincent, I would drop everything. (And if it was, like, Chris coming over for something, I would grab everything I have, drop those, and then go see him.) Qiu Yin and I basically had to run the whole thing because it was chaos and we were too outnumbered to sober up the situation. Oh, well. It was fine and basically, everything went off without a hitch. Who said Friday the thirteenth was a bad day?

(Still not a Good Day, though.)

They Ring In Your Ears

2012-01-12T19:14:00.001+08:00

So I know this post is going to suck. Without even thinking about it or planning what I'm going to write, I already know it's going to suck. It's not going to be poignant, it's not going to be profound, and basically it's all around useless (not saying that any of my other posts are worth much, but it's just one of those days) so this is just a head's up. If you still want to continue on reading this, I can't be held responsible for your wastage of time.

Anyways, I feel like talking about people today, but people don't seem to like it when I talk about people. So on Monday night, I wasn't in the best of spirits, despite having already received a couple of Happy Birthday wishes. I don't think the fact that I'm not in a very Birthday mood has anything to do with last year (the Bowling Accident) but one does have to wonder. I was very lackluster after all and I sit next to Nisa every day. I have no excuses for being lackluster when it comes to my birthday - she must have infected me with her birthday cheer sometime between those three days of the first week of school. Back to that night, though; I was already under my covers when I realized that people might want to call me at midnight and I had my phone switched off. As soon as I turned it on, I received my first call!

Overall, I didn't get to have Epic Birthday Conversations or anything because it was already midnight and I answered a total of three phone calls that night. I had school in the morning and unfortunately, self-restraint was something that I do possess. So I switched it off again and went to sleep. The next day was all right, birthday-wise. I mean, I think I didn't enjoy Bio, because of some stuff that can't possibly be blamed on us, the class. But nevertheless, some parties (party) do find ways to pile on the blame. And while that, of course, didn't ruin my day, it certainly did put a dent in the whole spirit of things.

I had to stayback that day for the prefects' yearbook photo shoot. They're having it early this year because last year was apparently complications galore. So we had the photo shoot and then the Form 4 YE members (well, not that there currently are any other YE members other than us seven - Amirah is gone!) gathered in the canteen to discuss this year's YE. Everyone except for one person, I can't remember who that was. Left at four without managing to accomplish any homework. Home was a nice and long shower followed by nice and longer conversations with a few people on the phone. It wasn't the best birthday because I think I cried somewhere during that day. Yeah. I cried because my mother asked me what I wanted and I honestly didn't want anything, but I think I already talked about this and man, if this isn't a depressing topic.

Tuesday was a lot of things, but mainly one thing stuck out and I finally made a decision. Well, I mean, I guess if you want to be technical, you can say that I made this decision during the holidays, I just haven't found the willpower to practice it. It's okay for now, though. I've found backup. I've found someone to help me out in case I slip. And that day, boy, did I slip. I honestly didn't mean to say the things that I said. They just come out, you know? And if I could take it back, in a heartbeat, I swear. That night was me stressing out over a lot of things, least of all were school-related things so don't think I'm going back on what I said earlier (that school was not stressful). I think it mostly involved insects in my room and my laptop's crash crash crashing.

Wednesday, I can't remember what happened other than the whole Nisa and Hanna came over thing. Oh, and I was apparently all shades of emo that morning. Oh, well, we can't have it all (especially not emotional stability during that time of the month). We have it settled: we are going to the zoo on Saturday with Intan and Xueh Wei. This is good, right? I mean, I know, sixteen and a year closer to death and all, so why not celebrate it by going to the zoo and regressing to the lowest possible point at which you could regress to? I remember the zoo field trip I had when I was in kindergarten. This is like that. And before you ask, it was purely Nisa's idea, but I am backing the shit out of it. It is a good idea. Like I said, it's good, right?

Which brings us to today, I guess. Today was what I would like to call the Peak of Nisa's Annoyingness, and it's only been the seventh day of school. I took a nice clean break during Mod Math to go sit next to Aly. It's not we talk much (or at all) but it's always nice to sit next to her, because it reminds me of last year and I've come to not only accept her strong silence, I've come to enjoy it (sometimes she talks, too, okay, it's not like she's made of brick). And plus, I was all blur during Math because teacher just placed some stuff on the board and was like, "Solve it," and Aly took less time interpreting the textbook than I did. Maybe because she's learnt the stuff before but who cares, it was just good siting next to her. I did eventually return to Nisa after finishing the notes. By then, Nadiah had commandeered by seat but we worked something out. Our Math teacher, much like Pn Mashitah last year, doesn't seem to mind much where we place our asses during class (or even much of what we actually do in class because there was like ten minutes in there in which I absolutely was not doing her work at all; I was just talking) as long as we hand in the books on time. Or maybe she doesn't care about that either, but I'm not going to neglect my homework.

A lot of things going on. A lot of things going to go on. Co-curricular activities sign-up tomorrow and I'm going to have to stand in front of the classroom and say something during YE's because I volunteered for some reason. Nisa, Nadiah and I also volunteered to help out with the crew work for the school's PGL production, which Divyia seems to think is funny, but I like backstage work more than I like being onstage, so I don't really care how lame it is, because every morning I step foot inside school and, yes, I realize it's all lame from there, but one day I'll escape. One day soon.

Chris is going to be back for Season 4. I cried when I read about this. When can I quit this, oh, my God? Other than that, there's nothing much going for me on the Internet. I am too tired to actively search for fanfiction, so I just reread oldies but goodies.

Praying to God that tomorrow runs smoothly. Happy birthday to Zayn Malik and if you wish him in your heart of hearts, Hanna will thank you on his behalf.

A Stitch Away From Making It

2012-01-11T21:22:00.000+08:00

I'm starting to feel like I'm not even living my own life anymore, like the person who goes to school in the morning and the person who steps foot inside the house half a day later are completely different people altogether. It's disorienting, because everything feels like a dream; not a bad one, necessarily, but definitely not a pleasant one, and definitely not a dream that I feel is happening to myself. More and more, I'm starting to wonder whether this was what the previous years' seniors felt like, like they're just living in somebody else's dream, but they were not eloquent enough to say it in a way other than, "Well, this is stressful."

Because that's not it, not really. It's not stressful. Actually, if you asked me, I enjoy the buttload of work. I like not having free time so I don't feel guilty about wasting my time about doing unproductive stuff. Doing homework is actually the worst motivation to study, but not studying and doing homework is a lot better than not studying, not doing homework, and spending the majority of my day on Tumblr. So there's the win and lose. I'm not stressed, to be perfectly honest. It's not at all what some people think when I tell them how much I am starting to hate school more and more each day, that I'm just unused to it. That I just need time to adapt. Hell, last year I hated that place and the only reason I wasn't going on and on and on about it was because I had a national exam to think about and sit for. And drama, but that's irrelevant. So now I feel stupid all the time, because I'm pretty sure everyone's been through this before, some with the added bonus of actual stress, and adding my name onto the already long list isn't going to do anyone any favors. I mean, isn't there anywhere else I can store my feelings other than in my own head?

I'm sure as time progresses and I get even more busy - because yes that is possible and yes that is going to happen - I'm going to be able to relax and leave more things up to God. Or maybe not. Really, I have no fucking clue what's going on right now, I'm not at liberty to even talk about what's going to go on.

What happened today was basically a bad day, but not really, because these days bad days are particularly tolerable and good days always have that dark cloud staining it, making it impossible for me to truly have a good day (or truly have a bad day so praise God). We had a pretty good PE lesson followed by a pretty bad Bio lesson and the rest was sort of in between. Add Math was good, but Physics was bad and it went on and on like that - bad countered with a good. At the end of the day was another bad, because I discovered that a shitload of asshats from my relief class have yet to hand in their Borang Maklumat Murid and today was the deadline. I am dead, I guess. Whatever. Funny thing about having multiple things on your plate at once is that when you slip up in one direction, there are countless other things to think about still and you can't exactly afford to waste time worrying on just one particular thing. Well... hasn't stopped me from trying to worry about everything before. I guess it was sort of good that I finished most of what I was supposed to finish. It could have been so much worse.

Hanna and Nisa were invited over to my house today. We had some of my Chris Colfer cake and spent thirty minutes figuring out what delivery service to order from. Other than the obvious (we laughed a lot because we ended up set to place the exact same order from Kenny Rogers, but then when we finally called them, they said that delivery was unavailable for the day). We did end up with a Domino's lasagna each an hour later, as well as a bottle of Coke and some chicken wings. Everyone but me are enjoying my Maltesers.

Well, since I am not in the mood and I want to take advantage of the rain and burrow under the covers, I think that's it for today. I know I haven't been updating as religiously as I usually do but it's not really because I'm tired. It's more of the fact of how embarrassed I am to be so down in the dumps when I literally have it all.

Except for maybe a time-turner.

Figure It Out

2012-01-10T22:15:00.002+08:00

First of all, it was Nazureen's birthday a few days ago, which I had planned on writing about but somewhere along the way of work and homework and prefects work, it all just sort of slipped my mind and now I'm six days late. Shame on me. Anyways, when asked, Nazureen seemed to have had a normal birthday, like me (I'll get to that sometime this month), so there's really nothing else to say because that day has passed. I hope she has a good year, though; a better year. Not saying that last year sucked for her. Just saying that I'm hoping she has a better year this year, because better is better than good. God, that sentence sucked.

Second, happy birthday to my nephew, who is now four but still speaks as if he swallowed entire Transformers comics and nothing else. His vocabulary, while lacking, is very... how do you say... robotic, and while that is one of the most annoying things about him, it definitely makes for good entertainment once in a while. Here's to hoping that he's blessed with the gift of speech this year and God, is it going to be weird when he finally does talk because all he does these days is... garble stuff. And gurgle occasionally.

Third, happy birthday to my sister. Her birthday is actually today. I don't have anything to say because there truly is nothing to say and it's an hour past my bedtime (it's now 10 o'clock at night - what do you make of that?) and I am not in the best of moods. Actually, I haven't been in the best of moods the whole week. The whole week which consisted of yesterday, Monday, my birthday, and today, Tuesday. Finally, fourth, happy birthday to Pri's aunt and I don't even know why I'm writing this down but I do know that I feel extremely stupid.

Because this, right there, is basically the root of all my problems. No, that's not true. The root of all my problems is myself and lately, I've been very down on myself. I think it's just because of the whole adjustment from Form 3 to Form 4 stuff, although other factors also seemingly come into play, like my never-diminishing, ever-growing misanthropy. I don't know why it took me sixteen years to finally learn what it means like to have your self-esteem shot down for no gosh darn reason, but here we go. I am becoming every single whiny teenager cliche ever, with the added bonus of being too lazy to place an accent above that e in cliche. Sixteen years. Sixteen years of being perfectly fine with blaming it on the world and now it all just seems to come out and scream at me.

It's annoying, to say the least. I'm finding myself more and more irritating by the day. That's annoying. The fact that I'm annoyed by it, is also irritating. There is only so many words I can use to describe how utterly pissed I am at everything, myself and the whole entire universe. And it's totally not fair. Because this is not the year to get disillusioned or depressed. Because I have everything. Like, literally. I cried the other day because my mother asked me what I want for my birthday and I just didn't know. I didn't want anything. I didn't want to waste money on something that when bought, it's going to lose its value and then I'm going to not care about that thing entirely and then I would feel bad that I had asked my parents to buy me something useless. Maybe if they gave me a cat... but no. Of course not. I neither have the time nor patience to entertain another cat at this point of time.

And I've learned something about myself. Something that's both rather terrifying and annoying at the same time. I really don't learn anything in class. For lack of better words, I just stone. I stare at the teacher, copy stuff down, and if I've already learned the topic beforehand at home, I'll understand and if I haven't, I won't and I'll just stare and no amount of explanation is going to change that. I guess it was less apparent last year, when we only had a few nail-biting subjects and plus, our teachers last year were really... stoned themselves, I think. Now, every time we learn something new in class, all I can honestly do is stare. Some people can do it, learn in that environment. I really, really, really can't. And I really, really hate everything right now and I sound so stupid!

This year, I have one resolution: to devote an entire year to myself, to devote an entire year to 'figure it out'. So figure it out. Figure it out. Figure what out? Well, 'it'. I for one am not willing to live this double life anymore. I can't learn one thing on the Internet, among one group of friends, only to unlearn it all again in school. We literally talked about rape culture today during Islamic Studies, and of course, I've been in countless debates about that. And to think that at school, it's one thing, it's dress to not impress, and at home, I have to maintain this other thing, it's a dress, not a yes, and I am so confused now; someone write a non-condescending book, please! I for one am not willing to spend every single Islamic Studies class crying. I for one am not going to continue on with this for the whole year just because I can't get over a stupid insipid little crush.

It's embarrassing to think and I'm just embarrassing myself. So I've got to figure it out. I don't know what to do or where to go from here. I don't have the people who normally help me out to help me out here. Either they're sick of me, or they're sick of talking about this. Because this has been going on for two years and I am so stupid, sometimes I just wonder how could I have let this happen to me?

Figure it out. The age old question.

Why me?

Pride

2012-01-08T15:25:00.001+08:00

Hey, so I'm having a good-ish weekend. I mean, I didn't do much. Let's see... yesterday my Dad and I went out to buy groceries and stuff and I managed to buy everything that I needed to buy for school and a little something something extra which you will find out about on Tuesday! Or maybe Wednesday, depends. Sorry, I'm not up for much writing. This is just one of those general updates that I generally hate to write because it doesn't require me to get deep and think about what I'm writing. I'm just updating you guys on what's been happening. And what's been happening was the grocery shopping trip yesterday.

I sort of cried, smack in the middle of Giant, because for some reason, I was thinking about how I'm not going to get to meet Chris Colfer for my birthday. It's sad. I hate all these womanly feelings I have to endure once a month. Last time, it was the sudden and deep need to have babies. Now that my second nephew's grown into his lungs, I think it's safe to say that I'm only up to cats for the moment. Sadly, the motherly feelings have been replaced with woe-I-will-never-be-able-to-meet-Chris feelings. Crying in the middle of the supermarket is never a person's crowning moment of glory so I was happier later on when I went to the bakery and got orders down for my cake.

Me: Can I have a cake?

My Dad: Sure.

Me: Can I have a cake with like pictures and stuff and writing on it?

My Dad: No. Of course not. Why? It's not like there's a birthday or something.

Me: ...

I also felt much better after finishing half a packet of Maltesers but my Dad took it away from me before I could finish the whole thing. It's okay. I finished it today. And speaking of today, it was a nice morning, despite the fact that I have my period, and it's never ever fun to wake up to yourself having your period. I think it's the worst way to wake up in the morning. It feels like I'm... never quite alone. All right then. But a good thing is that I cleaned my room up the night before and waking up to a clean room is definitely fun. It feels like magic fairies came in at night to clean your room but the fact that I cleaned it myself just gave me my own strange sense of pride. I've been priding up all over the place lately. Feeling all grown up and shit.

I spent the morning downstairs with my laptop and iPod and phone and my cat and that was at eleven in the morning and I haven't moved away from the position since. Well, except for now, because I hate writing blog posts on my laptop. Guess it's just another thing to get used to? Or maybe I never will. At any rate, it's not like my desktop's going anywhere and, of course, this is of no interest to anyone. My cat's still asleep. It's past three in the afternoon now. I don't really know what to do. I don't feel up to reading Animal Farm for the book club so I'll just put that on the back burner for next week. I don't feel like making invitations to the zoo thing because it's ridiculous enough that we're going to a zoo and to make invitations...? Whatever. I'm not up to staring at Chris's pictures either because I think I'll just cry? Speaking of things that made me cry!

I'm in a good place in my life right now. I mean, I have friends and stuff. Nice ones, like Ellie. And tonight I'm sleeping over at "Elo's" house and Julia will be there. She hasn't left Malaysia since the twenty-something of December. I wonder what's in it for her (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). And school friends. Funny ones like Nisa and Hanna. And, okay, Nadiah, I guess. Stuff to jump and gloss over but I've been in more awkward situations. Let's see, who else? I just think that for now, things are going good. It's not like I'm not lonely, but that in itself is good because I need my me space, probably more than the average person. And the whole being better thing hasn't affected my relationships with anyone yet (and I know it's only the first week of school and barely past the second week of January, but keep in mind last year, I was basically destroying my own life at this point). And I feel relaxed and chill and kind of scared of the future as usual, but I can store it in my back pocket as rocket fuel for future exams. Plus, I have my Worry Book, and God bless the Worry Book because it's saved my life more times than I can probably think to remember.

Okay, I think that's it and in case you didn't already know, my birthday is tomorrow! Thanks for letting me live a relatively healthy and wealthy life for sixteen years!

Ladies First

2012-01-07T15:09:00.000+08:00

Me: Your... ears are so cute.

Violet: ... I KNOW!

Me: You know what I like about second recess? It makes the day seem shorter. Like, because there're three subjects before and three after, instead of last year when it was four subjects after recess and that makes the day just drag.

Nisa: Yeah.

Me: I guess that's what they meant when they say time goes by faster when you're older.

Me: *something something* that was at the beginning of the year.

Nisa: Yeah. That was two days ago.

I've made a decision to stayback after school everyday until about four or three. The main reason is that I just don't want to go home to the prospect of homework. These days, first couple of days of school, I come home and flop down on the bed everyday and sleep at around nine. So I think it's probably for the best. Plus, I get to get shit done. Any extra prefects stuff and things like that. The traffic's also easier to navigate after two, mainly because there is no traffic to speak of. All around, I'm sticking this out for now and we'll see where this takes, well, me. Maybe I'm taking Thursdays off but we'll see first.

First week of school was... kind of bad, but I always say that without any regards to the year prior. I mean, I have no idea what happened around this time last year and frankly, at this point, I couldn't care less because I'm so tired. I assume I was also pretty tired pretty much all the time at the start of school last year as well but, like I said, who cares? That was then, this is now.

I forgot to mention on Wednesday (probably because I was so tired and I had that Darren post to edit and all) but I volunteered to be the English Rep for the class. If I had known it was going to be Madam K (again) who would be teaching us English, I'm not sure whether I would have made the same decision, but since that's irrelevant, I couldn't care less at the moment. Plus, after the placement test, they're going to shuffle everything around so she might not even remain teaching the class I'm in. I am not unhappy, though, because getting a teacher back always mean good things. And as an added bonus, Madam K really was the only other English teacher other than my Standard 6 teacher who made it a habit to compliment my writing. I have regressed, of course; I think the essay I had to write a few days back for English was horrific, but... like, whatever. See? I have vomited out my inner dictionary.

I can't remember whether this has been said or not but I am now the proud owner of the table behind Khairina and Zaza. And under the fan. This might just be the first year in which I'm able to see the board properly! And Khairina's hilarious, everyone knows that, and for some reason the two of them come up with the weirdest things to talk about. Layers. Big and small. Grammar.

There was a discipline talk on Thursday, so we had no BM for the day. God bless. Physics is going to be a thorn in the side, not because the subject itself is terrible so far (and to be honest, I think I got off on the wrong foot with Physics because my Dad has been teaching it to me all these years and then the first ever Physics reference book I happen to read is the worst one money could buy, so I would like to remain ever the optimist and say that for now, I am neutral on the subject. Word of warning, though: don't buy Sasbadi reference books.) but you've got to admit our teacher's a bit... Well, I guess it's another year of Form 2 Math then and I survived that year and I soldiered on and all of that, so I don't see why I can't do it again this year. And our timetable's expected to change. I don't see why we can't get a new Physics teacher out of that mess. We've yet to have a Chemistry class because our teacher was absent on the day of the first class, and we have Pn Yong for Biology and it's been an okay first class so... we'll see.

May I just confess my boiling hate for Thursdays? We have Phys, Chem and Bio on that day. And Math. I don't think my teeny tiny bag is made for that kind of heavy loading. My shoulders were numb by the end of the day, and I went home at four that day, minus a lunch, so coming home was the best thing that had happen to me that day. The following day, Friday, was kinder, timetable-wise. We didn't have Add Math because of Pn Ilani's retirement. I was actually hoping to be taught by her sometime, since everyone seems to speak highly of her. A lot of last year's seniors came to the ceremony. I guess I'll just have to settle for waving at her if I ever pass by her house one of these days. She lives, like, diagonally across from me. We have no Civics teacher, which was second period, and our relief teacher (I forgot her name) seemed pissed off at the world and kept telling us to shut up with no threat behind it whatsoever. I just concentrated on reading up the Prefects Guidebook, because apparently rumors ran around that we were going to have a 'test' at meeting that day.

BM was okay. I mean, I know the teacher and she seems nice and all. I have no doubts that she can be scary if she so chooses, because everyone's capable of that, even Cik Ili last year, so I'm not going to run around trying to cross any one of my teachers or anything. BM isn't going to be a favorite subject of mine, ever, and I know that that in itself is the problem. I overcame my difficulties with most of my other subjects because I told myself that I didn't hate said subjects, I liked them, and they would be useful for my future, chanted it like a mantra, and it helped some. With BM, I know I hate it, I know I don't like it, and I definitely know it won't be useful for the future, and it's a lot of hatred to overcome. Plus, the year's novel isn't currying any favors. It's so terrible.

I hate duty at the labs. There aren't even any classes learning anything in there so I don't see why I have to keep a look out. I hate it so much. I seem to be full of a lot of hate lately. Maybe I should do something to remedy that. I'll get back to this. But back to what I was saying, I can't believe I'm going to have to duty there, at the labs, for my birthday. Worst. After recess for Friday is shaping up to be awesome sauce, though, and God, here's to hoping I never use that phrase ever again. Awesome for the first schedule, at least. We have to shimmy off to the Bio labs for the second schedule.

As it turns out, we had a mini test for the meeting after all, and in a rare feat of things that have never happened and probably will never happen again, the teachers had little to nothing to do with the meeting at all, they just sat there. Prayer circle that this is a running trend for the year. I wanted to be bell ringer for second recess so bad because anything to get away from the labs a couple of seconds earlier. Unfortunately, no one volunteered for the morning bells. I didn't want to prolong the silence because I hate silence and bell ringing is bell ringing, so say hello to the ringer of the morning bells: yours truly!

Other than the fact that Hanna has shingles and I'm thinking of celebrating my Sweet Sixteen at the zoo, there's not much for me to add. In addition to growing older, I am also proud to sit here and admit to the fact that I managed to finish all of my homework at eleven o'clock this morning. Congratulatory presents are accepted in the form of time travel machines so I can go to August of this year and read The Land of Stories. Or maybe the end of the year so I can watch Struck By Lightning because I have no idea when that's coming out. You can leave the time travel machine in front of my house and knock on my door four times!

I am greatly looking forward to it!

Rock Out (With Your Cock Out)

2012-01-04T19:08:00.001+08:00

I cut my nails last night. They now not only look bald, but are pretty much useless. I mean, can't scratch, can't use their almighty powers to magically open a bag of junk of food anymore, can't... do other stuff. I feel naked, which was what Hanna told me she felt when she cut hers, and I don't know why I'm starting this post by talking about nails. My nails look like Humpty Dumpty.

In the grand scheme of things, the day was simply that: a day. There were ups and downs, one after another and I'm not getting a break from life, so I don't know why I felt like today, being the first day of school, would be any different. I don't know why I thought being in Form 4 would feel any different, you know, emotionally, not academically. If I had a grand notion that the day was going to start to the swell of instrumental music acting as the soundtrack of my life, gradually increasing in tempo until an upbeat song about teenage, coming-of-ageness starts up and I get dressed while the screen splices up to other people, also getting dressed for the first day of school, I was sorely disappointed. (I have these grand notions every year, so it's not a cause for concern or anything.)

So there is nothing to be said about the day because nothing happened. Was it a breezy day? No. Started off with a hell of an Assembly because someone has it out on me, it seems: not only am I alone and partnerless again this semester, not only am I on duty at the freaking labs, I am also placed at the door right at the front of the Forms 4 and 5 section, which is generally populated by... how do I put this delicately? Assholes, for the most part. And from there on, you can guess the gist of the rest of my day. Duty at the labs? It was scorching hot and I only thought of going under the shade of the teachers' roofed car park halfway through.

And then there was the class switching. I won't even get into that. Mainly because I wasn't involved and I couldn't care less. We got our textbooks and a word of warning would have been nice, thanks. Like, warning: bring your big ass bag to carry all your books. Or, warning: inject Hulk DNA into arms for superhuman strength as superhuman strength is exactly what you'll need to carry said books. I was in an okay shape by the end of the day, despite mostly everything, and Nisa and I just couldn't stop laughing most of the time. Maybe we found everything funny because they actually were. I mean, whose idea was it to make us Form 4s? Whose idea was it to make us learn all of this stuff and take SPM and all of that? Whose idea was it that we are actually mentally and emotionally qualified to even pass PMR? Funny shit right there.

I took two trips to my mom's car because I thought that that was the better option over dislocating or bruising a shoulder on the first day. Does not sound ideal. Anyways, after that, I had an orthodontist appointment to attend and when I got back, I finally sorted through my textbooks to find... my Chemistry textbook missing in action. It's... strange. I mean, I think if this had happened to me in the past, I would have freaked out a lot more so three cheers, several kudos and a dozen candy canes to me, because my maturing process has also included an increase in problem solving skills! Huzzah! Or maybe just a decrease in anxiety, but I believe both of that sounds like pretty good causes for celebration.

Just two more days until the depression that is First Week will be over. I still keep a Worry Book because it's easier. Habits and all of that. But when the tides of the weekend wash upon the shores of stinkin' Friday, I will rejoice and... probably stop talking like this.

With Any Luck

2012-01-04T18:40:00.001+08:00

Haha, here have a thousand-word word spew about Darren Criss and I don't know, Broadway or something. (Picture from here.)

I know I've been, well, hard on Darren Criss lately, and honestly, it's not even my fault. I just don't really like stalking or interacting with crazed Klaine fans anymore than Hitler liked Jews. Okay. Really, really bad comparison but bear with my three-a.m.-mind right now. But I have, I'll admit to that. Some days, I hear people talking about how much they hate Darren and I can't even formulate a response, much less feel anything about it. I'm around those people more and more each day and maybe my brain just developed a shield of sorts? To protect mysel from getting hurt when people taunt him or haters hate?

Because of course it hurts. Just like that time I straddled Iylia in the canteen when she told me she thought Chris looked like a- well, I'm not going to be the one to repeat that sentiment. But be that as it may, be all of that as it may, it still doesn't change how much feels I am currently feeling.

Because I've known of Darren for so, so long now. I don't know, in relative time, everything seems really long because I don't hold onto relationships for long. But Form 1 seems like ages ago, doesn't it? It certainly does to me. I've known of Darren way, way before I fell in celebrity worship/hero worship syndrome love with Chris. Way, way before Glee, even. Like, a few weeks or months before Glee. Yeah, that long.

And honestly if you watched AVPM and have had a prior predisposition to guys with curly and/or dark hair and, well, glasses, how can you not fall in love with Darren? Well, celebrity-worship-syndrome love, but still. And so I watched AVPM, and then his YouTube videos. Oh, my God, when he sang Reflection, that was probably when I lost it. My marbles, I mean. And he had to sing Belle and Goddamn Duck Tales and what the heck, it was like he was charming his way to Internet stardom by singing really dopey mushy songs. How can you not? Honestly. And then came Little White Lie, and my obsession with the rest of Starkid and then- that's it. Radio silence for about a year or so.

When I found out Darren was going to be on Glee, I was shocked. Ecstatic. At the time there was no doubt about it: I was a full fledged, Internet-certified Gleek and I watched the show like it was my born duty. But I wasn't excited because Darren was going to be on Glee, because I'd get to see him in it in an episode, maybe two or three. I was excited because Darren freaking Criss was going to be on Glee, because he had made it, because this was his big break and how can I ever resent a character like the one he'd just won, like Blaine, who was sure to become Darren's gateway to many, many more roles.

Like his side role in Imogene. Like How to Succeed In Business Without Really Trying. Like the sold-out shows he's had since, the other artists he had been honored and privileged to perform with, the thousands of screaming fans who knew him as Blaine and knew him as Darren Criss at sold-out Glee Live events.

Of course, everything went out the window soon after that. I don't know why, but I was a Gleek, I knew that. I watched Glee because it was a fun show. But fandom? That wasn't really for me. I wasn't really ready for anything more. I came into fandom for Darren, because, right? "Fandoms collide", thousands of annoying fangirls typed over and over again on their keyboards (and I will be the first to admit, I was once apart of that particular brand of euphoria as well). Who would've thought? Starkid and Glee, colliding? I came for Darren but I stayed for someone else.

And it was a slow descent from there, I guess. I was elated at first, excited at the prospect of a new fandom. But I wasn't ready. Of course I wasn't. I was going through some hard and confusing times and how can a magazine cover with Darren and Chris on it possibly help with anything? It helped, over there, where the people were different and this was a show straight out of the brains of one of them, but here? I'm not even in Kansas.

When things become hard, you find somewhere to hide. A vessel, an outlet, something that had no hold on reality and sometimes I just lost my tether, is all. Hating Blaine, hating Darren, was never my original intention and neither is me taking this matter so seriously. But is has to be serious, right? Or else it couldn't possibly be so personal.

So I have been giving him a hard time. A while back, I saw a graphic posted where someone had Photoshopped How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying into How to Succeed in Business Without Any Talent. I was horrified. Horrified at how I sort of came to agree. Because while he holds his own pretty well with the Glee cast, Glee's not exactly known for its outstanding actors (or characters, or plot, or anything much as of late, really). Although I'm not saying the Glee cast lack talent, because they must have had talent in spades in order to even remotely pull off most of Season 3 coherently. Coherently-ish. But Darren's a performer. He's a musician. He sings and he writes songs and performs them and he does these things so well and it's different onscreen. I feel like a bad, bad fan, really, because the others are super crazy and see things differently.

But different strokes, I guess. So this is going down the road of no return. I can't take back what I've thought. I thought it. I somewhat agreed with the graphic. But you know what? I have never known of a person as enthusiastic and inherently good as Darren Criss appears to be. He's made it so far and, yeah, a year ago he was nobody. And a year ago I was a completely different person.

And we've come so far, haven't we? From 2009 until now. It's been such a long journey and of course, of course, it's not over yet, not at all anytime soon. I am so very, very happy at this turn of events: who would have fucking thought? Darren Criss of YouTube fame, going on to play the part of the most unstable character on Glee to date and pulling it off... as well as anyone can. And now this. Right on the front steps of Broadway and on the front pages of newspapers (well, the Arts section of the New York Times, but still). Just a few short years, not at all a long trip back to that guy with glasses, the 'fro, the opening lines to a song now considered iconic to a cult of followers, and a single spotlight.

Break everything, Darren Criss. And one day, one day I'm going to meet you (preferably with the rest of the Glee cast as well and Chris, oh, yes, please, Chris) and I am going to love. You. Down.

Or get an autograph and a picture. One or the other.

(Also, I am sobbing; this is not actually part of what I originally wrote but I thought I'd let you know the amount of emotions I'm actually emoting right now. Off the scales.)

(Also also, what is with me lately? I reread this post and my last one and it just seems full of innuendo, the hell.)

Miss Blame It On the World

2012-01-03T23:21:00.002+08:00

short term goals (so that i can't just sit around, saying to myself 'i'm bored')

~~rewatch doctor w~~ho

Ah, it has been a fun (and enlightening) adventure! Not the first, second, third, fourth season, more like most of the sixth. I didn't finish, though. Got up to Night Terrors (today!). My computers have been acting up so I can't exactly get uninterrupted hours of viewing. Plus, my regular method of bypassing the Megavideo 72-minutes thing doesn't seem to be working anymore. It's been a good way to fill in time, though, and I really wish I hadn't devoted more time to fanfiction instead of this (or reading Doctor Who fanfiction). On one hand, I am in a good mood and I just asked my dad whether he would "like some pizza? It's in the TARDIS." On the other hand, I now think with the Queen's accent. There is no flip side, this was an excellent first choice for holiday activities.

~~finish reading the scarlet letter~~

Yes, indeed.

~~get haircut~~

Several haircuts. I have gone from The Dianna Agron, with half of my face covered in hair (and it provided me with great blowing exercises as I have had to blow the hair away from my eye countless times); to the concave, Keira Knightley hair, which is bad, bad, bad because I didn't take into consideration that it would curl so much at the roots; to the present With a Bang, which looks horrible and I'm just waiting for it to grow out and pushing it back in the mean time.

dye hair

Well, you can't have time for everything.

~~rearrange bookshelf!~~

Yes! Last year, I- well, two years ago, I arranged them in order of colors, which was pathetic because I couldn't find anything. Now I've taken the sensible approach and alphabetized them. Everything new goes on the new bookshelf and everything else gets crammed on the old one and surprise: (not really) it all fits!

~~rearrange itunes library :c~~

I got rid of a lot of songs and duplicate songs, which has always been my intention when had the idea for "rearranging" the library, but I guess it's still not enough and I'm still pissed at every song that comes on Shuffle, so maybe it was a wasted effort. Plus, I managed to find album art for all of the albums... for the A artists. Still. Small victories.

~~finish reading the hitchhiker's trilogy~~

And here are my reviews of it, starting with The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - work your way forwards. I highly recommend it, especially if you like Doctor Who, and plus Douglas Adams, the author, wrote several serials of Doctor Who or something (not the revived version - the Tom Baker Doctor, I think) (actually, don't quote me on that; I'm not sure). My point is, very enjoyable, highly recommended.

~~read all~~ the books i bought at the aftermath sale

i just read the one.

~~reread haunted for book club~~

Done!

~~clean up my minefield of a room~~

I rearranged some furniture, moved stuff around a bit and got the old rug washed (now it's worse, though: the red stripes bled into the white ones so I might as well have a pink rug). Most importantly, though, I got rid of all the junk in the trunk, namely my old school books and unused clothes, as well as really unimportant papers and odd bits that I kept around God knows why. Usually spring cleaning for my room includes dusting everything up, maybe clean a drawer or two, but mostly just shoving everything into the cupboards. This time I cleaned the cupboards out as well!

~~put up my fucking boards!!!!~~

Whiteboard's not up yet but at this point, I don't care, because the cork board is up and so is my shelf! Manual labor, too, all for the price of hanging up an overpriced Ikea shelf where there need not be a shelf. Whatever. I like it enough and it gives me a space to put my candles and I should just make a shrine, shouldn't I? Several pieces of paper stapled or tacked onto the cork board to remind me of stuff. Gotta wake up every morning to an inspiring message. Or in this case, a reminder.

final destination movies marathon

Eh, it was worth a shot. I used to be obsessed, not just with the movies but with the... what did they have again? Books? Comics? Whatever. I used to love me some Final Destination and I used to walk around the house, afraid of my own shadow, weeks after seeing Final Destinations 1 and 3 over and over again on a loop for a few days straight.

~~buy school stuff and stuff~~

Yes. Duh. Got new shoes and socks and the very important books but nothing else, I'm afraid. Very broke. Parents also very unwilling to spend more money on me than they already have. Can't say I blame them.

~~plan ellie and michelle get together 2k11~~

Done and done and done! Was ever so pleased and excited and charmed. Definitely one of last year's highlights. Sakina might be coming over this year and the visit might just coincide with The Hunger Games and if both of those hypothetical scenarios do indeed become a reality, I will force her at gunpoint to a meetup (and Ellie as well!) and we shall go to the movies and go ride the sunset together and I'm sorry, it's three in the morning, what did you expect?

~~get into starkid again :c~~

Sigh. On the bright side, the recent influx of How to Succeed news has made me feel definite Proud Mama Syndrome for Darren. But I still can't stick Blaine. I'm not going to pin it on Darren, though (or, well, I shouldn't) because It Is Not His Fault. As for Starkid, I am proud to say I have reconnected. Although I only had time to watch a couple of videos and AVPM, having completely lost track of time to go through their SPACE Tour videos. I am upset at this, of course, but it's not like I am unsustained by .gifs, if there is such a word as unsustained, which I suspect there isn't. Sigh. Double negative. Why do I get caught up in these things?

~~watch switched at birth~~

Colossal waste of time because they took something that had the chance to be potentially touching and educating and turned it into a dog and pony show. I think that's the term. Dogs and ponies. I don't know, I guess they just ran rampant with the story lines and it got more daytime soap than I originally bargained for and thus, I have an irrational hate of the show.

~~freaks and geeks marathon with nisa~~

In which we attempted to watch Howl and later on, The Breakfast Club, actually cook a breakfast food and rang in the first rays of sunlight with the first two episodes of American Horror Story, all while studiously avoiding watching Freaks and Geeks because Nisa's been forced to endure it with her mother, and we all know that can ruin almost anything.

lat's judy garland scrapbook

Um, not yet. Not even in the works, if I'm being honest. But I did say I'm making it for her birthday, so it won't hurt to actually start on it sometime before her birthday. Scrapbooks are tricky, after all.

~~lol study~~

Age old point on the to-do list but I am surprised that I actually got around to somewhat, maybe, quite possibly dipping my toes in next year's syllabus, including reading up on the first few chapters of Biology, Chemistry and Math and about half a chapter of Physics and Add Math as well as flipping through the fucky format of the BM SPM paper. I am almost, possibly, maybe not quite but somewhat screwed but I'll deal with that when the time comes.

I am screwed in a lot of ways, the least of which is the way in which I would actually like to be screwed (ooh, sexual joke! Call the Internet police but not so soon because I will be sixteen in less than six days, bitches!) (forget I said any of that, please). So maybe I'll just close my eyes and forget I'm living through this and everything will just fall into place.

Or maybe I can just blunder through it and hope for the best, eyes open. Either way, I'll be recording everything I will be thinking and doing in this here fine online journal, so as they say on the idiot box: stay tuned!

An Idiot's Tale

2011-12-31T13:49:00.000+08:00

January-October
Was I supposed to think that that was nothing?

Last year I thought I was in love. And it was bad. I spent the whole year this year, trying to get over it, trying to tell myself that I prayed for the right thing, I prayed for it to go away. And just this once, my prayers were answered. This year, I wrote a letter to the person you dated, saying that I hope you get treated right, that I hope your smile gets appreciated because you hate it, but I love it, your smile. It could brighten up my day, just that one thing last year, and it hurts. It hurts because you hang out with the wrong crowd, you do things I would never dare to do, not in a million years, and you're not a good person, at all. It hurts because you left, and I'm just here thinking, 'was I supposed to think that that was nothing?' and yes.

I knew from the beginning what it meant if I decided to just go with it. I knew what kind of person that made me. Regardless, I always answered your calls, always made the first moves, I was always there for you and we're friends, aren't we? And I'm the person who won't judge no matter how low you sink, aren't I? And then you told that me you went ahead and did that and of course I was all right with it. Who am I to have a word in edgewise about your self worth, your self respect? No one. I'm no one. And maybe that was when I realized it: that I would rather be no one to you than someone who had to heave the burden of being in love with a person like you.

Last year I fell in love. And I hated in. I hate it. I hate feeling powerless, like why is someone else controlling my feelings? I like to be in control, I like holding the reigns. And like five years ago, younger and no dumber than I am today, I pushed. Like I pushed him away and for an entire year. I acted like a complete idiot after insulting him and blow after blow after blow and I expected someone to like me after all of that? I expected friendship? I was delusional and I was delusional this year because I didn't learn from my mistakes, because I didn't know.

I know what you must be thinking, what kind of crazy batshit person didn't even realize that they were hurting someone they love and then got off on playing the victim, because that was what I did. I understand now, I mean, I just realized that if I were in your position I would have done the same thing. Ignored me. You know everything, the whole mess of a story, the entire embarrassing epoch. And you didn't have to be nice to me at all this year, you didn't even have to talk to me at all but you did. You told me a lot of things, things you probably don't tell most people and how did I repay you? I am so embarrassed.

I don't think you'll ever know this but you are the best person I've ever met. And I miss you so much but you deserve to be friends with people who treat you well. And I was wrong. I shouldn't have flaunted it in your face like that, not in that setting of all places, I shouldn't have said that, because it's all my fault. I ruined it. It's my fault and I am so sorry and I will do whatever you want me to do from now on and if it includes staying away, then I will.

I'll do whatever but I'll never make up for being the total bitch that I was to you for the past two years.

June-December

I don't expect you to understand. Not really. Not ever.

The thing is, I probably gave her too much credit. I say a lot of shit, sure, and maybe I maybe I mean it, maybe I don't, but I know now that I am not a hundred percent certain of 'who I am'. So who am I to say that anyone else is a concrete person, a full, fully-realized person who truly know who they are? We're all still clay. So when she stood up there and cried, I am no judge of the cause. I can't say for certain whether she cried because she was thankful, or because she was angry at the world for giving her, well, me.

I'm going to be frank, I don't like you. I don't like how you always bring me down. There are people out there who tell me that I'm a bad person and yet they say it in a gentle way. You make jokes and you expect people not take you seriously but you take me seriously. You seriously think I am that person because you still haven't let go of this eight year old monster who would tear up your pencil and ruin your life. And I know you would rather be with the other two, I know that, because I wasn't not really part of the core group, am I? I got there, I paid my dues, and I know that no matter how many times I have to get hazed or initiated, I'll never be one of you guys. Because I am not.

I don't like you because you're a hypocrite and I don't care what you think of me. When I was mad at you and Hanna, I talked crap about you guys behind your back all the time. And I know that I would be lying if I said I didn't expect the favor to be returned.

I don't know what to do with you, because you're my friend. Can we continue being friends even though we obviously do not like each other? Probably, because what choice do we have? You're nothing you say you are, you're better, sometimes not, but whatever mirror you're looking at, look at it again, because you're seeing someone totally different than who you really are.

And as for the other one, I appreciate everything you've done for me. It's hard, I know it is, and I'm not going to say likewise because you are head and shoulders easier to handle than me. We're not adults, we're not mature, and maybe the day will come when we will be mature adults and maybe we'll face that day together. But for now, just thanks, because it was hard for me, but I just want to grow up a little bit, be a bigger person than I was before and say that I know it was probably harder for you.

October-December

Hypocrites are the worst. But I'm starting to think that maybe passive aggressive people are just as bad.

All right, so I was full of it. I mean, I know how I came off as, I know how rude I was and how I expected things to fall back into place without even raising a finger. I know that, for that instance, I was in the wrong for choosing the wrong words, and there has been enough apologies about that. It's settled, and people don't want to reference mistakes that they've committed in the past and for this once, I'll honor you, all of you, by doing just that. It's done. It's settled. The dust is cleared. And while not all is forgiven, we've put a very shallow blanket of amnesia over ourselves, enough to say that all is forgotten.

But let me just get one thing straight: I do not need your pity. You know why? Because there are people out there, people I haven't even had a full proper conversation with who think that they have a right to judge me. And I don't do that. I try not to make assumptions anymore, I try not to judge. So don't feel sorry for me, don't feel like I didn't ask for this because I did. Be the change you want to see in the world? Okay, done. I want everyone to be able to tell other people that they're crap and that they should change. I want bluntness, and honesty and God, I regret it so much sometimes, but I want ruthlessness. And I fall into a pit of hypocrisy once in a while, just a few tears, but I climb out.

I don't need your sympathy, your empathy, your pity. I know people don't like me. And does that hurt? Yes. It keeps me awake at night. I went through three weeks of insomnia after I read what one of my friends wrote about me. And am I willing to live like this, alone, just because I don't want to be a better person? Yes.

You don't have to handle me. You don't have to be my friend and you don't have to like me. If you want to forgive and forget and let bygones be bygones, then by all means. I'll respect your wishes to not discuss it anymore. But if you think I'm going to change, if you pity me because nobody likes me, then you're not going to like what comes next.

December

-because she can't defend herself.

I know what she writes. I know they're about me. She writes about a girl, lost and confused and willing to be in love with anyone who would love her back. She writes about a fallen girl, who uses this guy to carry out whatever whim she pleases, because he would do anything for her and she couldn't care less. I know what she thinks and what she thinks is wrong.

You might think that I am just using people here for my own means and, sure, I wouldn't deny that, but I wouldn't lie, would I? I wouldn't tell someone that I love them and not mean it? You think this is easy for me, you always have, because you are practically arrange-married to someone and I still get freedom. Because your are the only one in your family and I have allies. Because you knows he doesn't you her and why are you taking this all out on me, exactly?

You've been doing it for a year. One whole year, don't you get tired of telling me that I am a bad person? Don't you tired of seeing me happy regardless? I know you didn't expect it to last, me neither, but just because I identify myself the way I did, doesn't mean that I'm deserting you. Doesn't mean that you're alone in this. You think it's smoke and mirrors, it is, everything is. But it doesn't matter that he's had to go through what he did with his family, and his schoolmates and his so-called friends, and it doesn't matter that I pined. I am tired of telling you to stop treating me like a glass child.

I spent another year knowing, and living with it, and having something else to deal with to boot. I don't care, you know I don't but I, I had a choice. I could have always chosen you. I could have always chosen to do this thing properly and I know one day I probably will but it's not fair. It's not fair that for right now, I can't be who I am but she does? She gets to parade it in her own house and she gets to do all these coupley, relationshippy things and I'll never get that. Not because I can't, but because I've made my choice. I won't.

Like I said, if I'm going to hell, I'm doing it for me. Not for anyone else. And I know he hurts everyday, I do, too. I know it's not fair, neither is this.

October-November

Learn to live and not live vicariously.

I know, I know, I shouldn't have started it in the first place. I shouldn't have made connections, assumptions, I suppose, and maybe if I hadn't been so stuck in the clouds, none of this would have panned out the way they did. I was entranced, by a good story, by a good actor, by a good person, and all through the first half, all through each and every episode, I said to myself, "Wow, I could relate." But who was I kidding.

I couldn't, of course I couldn't, because it's earth and sky, night and day different. I guess I should've known, I've never done it before. I have never, since the age of ten, ever fallen asleep as myself. There's always been fantasies, stories wrapped in other stories, a world, a headcanon, that's not my own. So you might ask me, why, and I might give you all the answers in the world (I don't like people, you know that; I like talent), but fact remains that when I saw him, the first thing that I thought I saw was kin.

So he came into my life, right place, right time, and I've never gone to bed with anyone else in my head ever since. I was slipping, losing the imaginary friends I had made before that, my magical friends, but it didn't matter. It neither mattered that it was the final year nor that I was halfway to abandoning the entire thing altogether. What mattered was that it wasn't relevant anymore; it wasn't me, anymore. And now you're all aware: I am a big fat lunatic.

And yet I still feel so entitled. I hate that, you know. Well, most of the time I do because it makes me not able to have a proper conversation about it with anyone. I look at them, my friends, and I can't help but think that I did and contributed so much more. Time, energy, emotions, sweat and blood. But then I look at the others, the people who did more than I did, and I don't feel like I belong anymore. Because I don't. When I go to sleep at night, it's not spells and potions that flicker behind my eyelids. It's something else. And it's something that has been slowly ruining my life ever since it set its claws in.

After six, maybe seven years, I'm sorry it had to end this way. I hated every second of it.

January-December

I'm just me.

And I can't change that. This year, my goal was to be the best, but I didn't exactly achieve that. I got sidetracked, waylaid, I took unnecessary detours and participated in redundant drama. I created some redundant drama myself. It wasn't an ideal year, wasn't the best.

When I got my PMR results slip, did I feel like I've done my best, be my best, be the best? Of course not. But while last year, I learned plenty about me, as a person, this year I learned a lot about other people. Like how, we all get second chances, but never third ones. Like how sometimes, the two-faced monster is kinder. Like how, I can't preach the rights of certain minority groups without learning to accept my friends first. Like, sacrifice.

I can't have two realizations at a time. I might have come to the right conclusion regarding one person, but as for the rest? I still have no clue. Not enough data to process.

I'm scared. I don't want to do anything but sit in my chair all day and not think about the future. I know I'm waiting for something, something to happen. Maybe I'm waiting for a chance to finally do it properly, waiting for people to forgive me, or to forgive people. I know Hanna said that what I'm waiting for is for a time when I'm allowed to make my own calls. But as that time draws nearer, closer, I get more and more scared. But then I think about it, about the people that I have and am going to have next year (and am not going to have), and I think, okay, maybe I can do this.

Not alone.

The Four Day Siren

2011-12-30T21:49:00.000+08:00

Another four days to go. And when I wake up tomorrow, it'll be another three days. The sentence, the mere thought, makes me sick to my stomach. Well, I already am sick to my stomach but it makes me sick in a... non-physical way. I've only written fifteen posts for December (better than October's by three - man, that was a scary month), sixteen if you count this one, and it really feels as if I've lost my blogging mojo. Okay, maybe not the entire mojo. I still enjoy the writing aspect of it. I just don't have the energy to blog everyday. Or the motivation or something. But maybe that's just a rough patch, something I'll work off when school starts up again. Fingers crossed.

And today is officially the second last day of the year. Okay, every year we get shocked that time 'flies by so fast' and we 'can't believe it' and I am sick of that shit. It happens every year. Every year, the same thing. People saying the same thing. And I am so sick of that. I am sick of a lot of things. Maybe the fact that I'm writing about being sick of a lot of things is really a manifestation of how I am actually very sick in real life and I'm just trying to subliminally draw your attention away from the important things I'm writing about (my life) to something far less important but equally as annoying for me (my ill health). Or maybe I'm just in a writing funk and I the word 'sick' just keeps repeating itself in my brain like a tick, like the word 'like'.

That's two full paragraphs of nonsense, courtesy of yours truly. Being sick is no huge fun or walk in the park or tea party in your backyard with seven-year-old Kurt Hummel and his impeccable hair. Well, that wasn't worth typing out. But after feeling slightly better, I thought I could treat myself, going out with Helena and the gang and that was a terrible idea from the beginning so I don't know why I thought it would end well by any definition. I forgot what night this was but I'd remember if I think hard enough, which I'm not in much of a mood to do. I'm in a mood to write, ish, but not really because no matter how much I write, it still won't change the fact that, hey, school in four Godawful days.

Since my parents were both away, I had lovely time figuring out how to go to school today for the Form 1 orientation thing that I volunteered to be apart of. I regret that, volunteering I mean, somewhat, yesterday and today, because I've been hacking out a lung over here and talking to bright, doe-eyed little youngsters (someone referred to them as 'children' today and God, my birthday's in about eleven days, I feel so gosh darn old) (not as old as my sister, though!) didn't seem like cough syrup or warm tea to me. It seemed like rubbing salt into an already swollen paper cut. But back to figuring out how I'm supposed to get to school: Hanna.

So I slept over at Hanna's and it wasn't a banging, bashing, all out, year-end sleepover (like I'm planning with mates tomorrow night). It's more like... sitting in Hanna's A/C-less room, each lost in the world of own own laptops, occasionally talking to each other once in a while. No biggy. Or biggie. I don't know. Probably the latter. Hanna's turning into a big, mad, raging Directioner machine and it's a hell of a lot annoying for sure, and she says she's sure I act like that when I'm geeking out as well but thing is, it's two very separate things, and I'm going to get lambasted (jeez, where the hell did I even learn that word?) for saying why, because it's both a sociopolitical statement and a rude one (but with me, those sort of go hand-in-hand, don't you think?). So I'm not touching on why my obsessions are different from hers. I'm just stating that last night, she was annoying and I wasn't. Except when I read that Jared Leto quote about Chris. I flipped my shit.

Some might call being open about reading not safe for work (sorry, I just, I hate acronyms and abbreviations) at other people's houses annoying as well, and if that's the case, then I'll let Hanna deal with that in her own sociopolitical and rude statements.

We finally kicked the bucket- wait, I think that means dying. We finally, um, hit the hay at four, maybe five, after I've exhausted my poor eyes reading fanfiction, and when I was tossing and turning and coughing, I think Hanna was still Directioning, or whatever it is she'd call it. We woke up later than I had set my alarm for (that useless alarm - I can sleep through it now), and Hanna called the sirens I use for my alarm annoying and then suddenly I was woken by One Direction singing a fucking good morning song (if you can call what they did singing) (I'm not saying they can't sing or can't sing well; just, in said song, there wasn't exactly a melody, okay?) and why, good lady, that is what I call a classic 'pot calling the kettle black' situation, if you don't mind my saying so.

Hanna is not a pretty soul in the morning. She gallumped (I don't even know) around the house looking for a purple ribbon while I trailed behind her, and she finally found, well, a ribbon, and I pointed out to her that it was magenta and she didn't take it kindly. So we were at school ages before we were actually supposed to be at school, nails long, phones in our bags, occasionally bumping into people, but those weren't occasions at all. The canteen's been revamped, the back work sheds and art shed are still under construction, and don't even get me started on the hall. So it was work, regular old work for us for a while, carrying and arranging chairs and smiling and answering befuddled parents' questions. And then we finally got down to business at about nine, perfectly early if we're following Malaysian time and I'm being honest, and the attendance-taking process for the Form 1s took a lot longer than it should.

I was in a hell of a preachy mood this morning. I mean, not saying I'm not preachy and opinionated all the damn time (because I am), it's just that it's been a while since I've actually heard offensive things being said aloud instead of, well, typed out on the Internet. And while I definitely am very carefree on the Internet and I sometimes let my friends say 'faggot' or 'retarded' or, well, other shit, because, really, Internet people are freaks, I do call people out on their shit in real time. Because it's easier to say than write. Although in this weather (my sick), I think that it's definitely better to write than say. I sound like cats fucking when I talk.

Hanna and Ashwini were judging Form 1s based on how bitchy they look and if it was the average 'man, they're wearing white Converse shoes' or 'they're wearing their button badges as an actual badge' (what bias, I know, because it was I who said both of those things), then I guess it's fine because teasing newcomers on being new is part of the trade and circle of life and all of that. But judging someone based on how they looked (Hanna was saying something about how bitchy one of them looked or something)? So I told them off and then Hanna deserted me.

Well, all right. Divya was next. She said some of the Form 1s looked retarded and I was very annoyed at that so I followed after her, asking her, "What if one of them really is retarded? Huh? Huh? What then?"

My partner for the day was Uma and I think we left the kids we were supposed to take care of (1D students) with not much to write home about because we had no effing clue what to say for the tour. You know Uma, you know me. We don't exactly make a circus. Regardless, they made some form of friend, I guess, and then after talking to them and answering questions and giving them a head's up for the PE classes with Miss Foo (among other disciplinary tips of the trade), we left them to their own devices. Hanna and Ashwini next door seemed to be having a lot of fun, so were the people downstairs, so there is that.

After, Hanna and I went to the book shop, and the Koperasi, and the canteen, and we saw Iylia, and then when we finally got to the hall, everyone had already stacked up the chairs. Job well done, we left. Somewhere during the tour Uma and I gave 1D, I found out my class for next year.

I don't even know what to say about that.

You win some, you lose some. Maybe that's what I should say.

An Excess of Phlegm

2011-12-28T20:05:00.002+08:00

So it's been three days since the eventful Christmas day in which I curled up next to my cat all day, bed-ridden and plagued with dreams about Barbie dolls ruling the world and the sick is still (miraculously) here! The funny thing about sick is that it never comes when you want it to (hint, hint: during any one of the PE classes I had to endure last year) and also, you'd think that people would care but they really don't (given that my Dad forced me into child labor by hanging up my shelf and cork board)!

In other news, I've been trying to get used to my Asus Transformer, which, I know, thank you, thank you all - after being told off by my Dad saying that I can't, and I quote, 'cry every time I can't get what I want', this is a thing to be celebrated. Almost as big of a celebration as my PMR results, although on both accounts, I've learned something dearly important and, well, something that I might have to remember in the future, because if I've already learned this in the past, I sure as hell didn't remember: I really don't care.

Aside from the fact that I can't go to Megavideo on the thing (which isn't that big of a loss - I have discovered the almighty powers and prowess of videobb!) and the browser sometimes crashes, sometimes refreshes itself (not a huge deal at all considering the lump of metal I'm used to using, also known as my handy dandy desktop computer), it's really very spiffy. All those anti-Apple people got one thing right, this thing is better than an iPad and it can do everything a laptop can as well (other than, you know, go on Megavideo and maintain a stable browser session) so I am happy. But I forgot.

"The price of getting what you want is getting what you once wanted."

- Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.

Because I forgot that, in my crazed 'I'm going to get everything I want and more, watch me' state, this is the way the world turns and spins and catches you up in its trap. Like with the PMR results. Was I happy after it? No, I was more scared. Because existing in a state before the results, because the anticipation and the waiting, were all code for 'don't worry, Form 4 is way over the horizon'. I would rather stay behind, stay hidden in the shadows of Results Day, than stand on its other side, with the full knowledge that three years of my life has passed to amount to a) not much, and b) a whole lot of other crap, coming soon.

And getting to see Wicked. That was so sad. It was just a big ball of sad wrapped carelessly with really depressed wrapping paper and tied off with a melancholic bow. And sick, and stuck in bed, and mere days after getting the one thing I've been praying really hard all year for, I get this other present, this stupid Asus Transformer, and I realized, I am not happy.

I'm not happy even though I've got everything a person my age could possibly want. I am not happy regardless of the people I surround myself with, or the stuff, the sheer, embarrassing amount of stuff I have and I just took a moment and stared around in wonder at my room and I have two lamps, two lamps I don't even use, and I have something that can just basically be a larger version of my iPod, and an MP4 player I haven't used in months to boot, collecting dust at the bottom of some box, and all I can manage to do to make myself feel better about the situation is to write a poorly constructed, even more poorly punctuated sentence about it.

And I'm still not happy.

Humans. We really don't learn from our mistakes, do we? Because what am I if not a prime example of that? I spent an entire year thinking I was the blameless party, that I deserved pity and it's all so stupid, stupid, stupid, because I know that even if I got this, however impossible a miracle it may be, even if I got this, I'm still not going to be happy.

And I know why. And I haven't said it, kept it in for a long time because I felt it wasn't my place, no, I know it's not my place, and you asked for my say in the matter and I had to treat you like I would treat anyone else, because otherwise, what kind of hypocrite would that make me? That's what I feel like, a hypocrite. Because it doesn't matter if Darwin, or Dan, or Helena or Vivian or Michelle or anyone else feel however the hell they feel, or think, or decide, or choose, it matters that you feel, think, decided, chose, because you said you're keeping this from everyone because you're afraid, like we all are.

But what do you think I am? Do you think I'm not afraid? Do you think I'm happy? Do you think I know how to be happy and don't you think you're being selfish? I chose. That's the problem, I chose a long time ago and I choose to live through it and let it pass and you're pursuing something I actively chose not to pursue and what person does that make either of us and if anyone, if anyone ever.

Big, fat hypocrite. That's my name, don't wear it out. It's different because we're protecting the same people. And yet it's not really that different because I'm just protecting myself. Is anyone worth all that trouble? Is anyone, really?

Energy Saving Mode

2011-12-25T12:43:00.006+08:00

Or Alternatively, A Merry Chrismas Post
Get it? See what I did there? Chris-mas?

So yesterday when I woke up for Subuh, I realized that weeks of having an itch down my throat and the occasional coughs had culminated into one gigantic sore throat and blocked nose, searingly painful and annoying respectively. It felt like several paper cuts to the tonsil. And I'd also developed a bit of a fever. All right then, that was Christmas Eve for me.

The day passed on with copious amounts of hot tea and soups and I watched The Wizard of Oz four times in a row when my parents and sister left for my grandmother's place (I decided not to go because of the uncooperative nose and body and immune system). If I ever hear "We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz" one more time, it would be too soon.

And then it was night time and I was all tired out and my sister and parents called (I can't remember which one of them or which two of them) and I decided to go to sleep. So I threw away three pieces of uneaten Nutella'd bread, dragged all my pillows and my quilt and my cat to my parents' room, and wished people Merry Christmas on Tumblr before realizing that the WHOAH SLOW DOWN THERE thing had started to appear and I might have missed out on wishing a handful of people and I didn't care so I turned off the A/C and wrapped myself in two quilts and fell asleep holding my cat's paw.

In my feverish state, of course it would be incomplete and unfair if I didn't experience a feverish dream. It was a terrible one, in which I asked someone whether they had watched the new season of Bones and that someone (I know who it was, I'd just rather not mention it) said that they didn't like it because Bones and Booth didn't work as well together as they used to and I said, what, you're crazy, but that someone said that Bones and Booth reminded them of me and them, as in me and that someone and this is crazy, isn't it, I mean I should end this sentence? So it was a terrible dream for reasons only I know and I don't even know but I woke up to my nephew watching Phineas and Ferb Christmas specials on television and it was the first time in ages that I deemed Disney Channel watchable.

Now everyone's out and my parents and sister aren't back yet but I think I'm feeling slightly better so it's the little things, I guess. (Credit for the art.)

The Gang's All Here

2011-12-24T00:00:00.000+08:00

Day 1

Like I said, after coming home from the whirlwind that was my Johor slash Singapore trip, I had me some spare time to shower, play with Fluffy, go on Tumblr and most important of all, pack. Pack for Raihan's. And then I went out with Maze and Helena for some coffee time. I hadn't seen Maze in a long time, just saw Helena last week, and I can't remember what we talked about but that was basically all we did: talk. At about eleven or something like that, my Dad sent me to Raihan's.

Everyone was already there and squealing over One Direction and by everyone, I meant everyone. Intan, Raihan, Afreena and, of course, Hanna are all apparently super big fans. Super big annoying fans but never mind that. And apparently Nadiah is one as well, albeit less of a conspicuous one. Nisa and I shared many a look over their extremely annoying fangirling, but never mind that as well, because I do have Things to Say on the matter, but they're kind of rude and unnecessary things that can be said just as well on my private blog or my Tumblr, both of which were created to openly criticize people in the first place anyways.

I don't know what it was about that night that I didn't like. Well, actually, I do. Hanging around Nisa and Hanna as of late has become a test of my own willingness to deal with reality. Not one or the other, but both of them at the same time. I mean, I have tons to say on the matter. Tons. But mostly, it's all to do with me, me, me and I'm done with that for now. I just need a break from them about every hour or so because everything I do just feels wrong. I can't say anything for fear of offending anyone or having people just plain old not listen to me in the first place because there are, like, five other voices fighting to be heard. I can't not say anything either for fear of people thinking I'm being up myself or, God forbid, emo. So sometimes it's tolerable, being around people, and some other times, I just know that there is no way in hell we're ever going to get back the night before UPSR results because we were different people back then, perhaps with more of a sense of wonder as to the way the world works, and less cynicism.

After baking and watching The Smurfs a quarter of the way through and exchanging ghost stories (I was only semi-present through all of these activities because I hated everything around me and everything that was going on and I had bigger fish to fry or something like that), I finally took out my earphones after watching What Happens Live or whatever that show's called with Lea and Chris and participated in life-living. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately since it required me to interact with less people), Intan, Raihan and Afreena were already asleep, leaving only Hanna, Nisa and I. We talked about kind of quasi-serious stuff given the involvement of Nisa and then as the night wore on, we started getting on Nisa's case for her inability to have heart-to-heart conversations and somehow that led to my realization that 'heart' and 'fart' were pronounced the same way but spelled differently and I shared this realization with the other two. And before we knew it, it was already 5 and Hanna started drifting off and I started counting cats.

When the azan started distantly blaring, Nisa (who hadn't fallen asleep and didn't want to fall asleep) woke everyone up with a, "Bang, bang!" and I found that utterly hilarious because it was like she was calling everyone 'abang'. So we prayed and then fell asleep. I was the only one on the footer at the foot of the bed and everyone else was on the floor. The space was cramped up so I swung my legs onto the bed. It would have been super creepy because Raihan had shared with us a ghost story from the dormitories of her boarding school, but I hadn't slept all night and it was past six and I just fell dead asleep in a matter of seconds.

Day 2

We had a few timing problems but in the end, Raihan's dad said it was okay for us to go home via LRT. So we went to Pavilion and booked a place at Red Box. Sadly, Intan and I didn't bring any form of identification (note to self: bring forms of identification in the future) so we couldn't use the student discount thing or whatever it was called. Shame, too, because the day before that, I had my passport in my bag. We had brunch (I seem to be having a lot of those lately) and then I guess we just walked around a lot.

It was still a stinging sort of annoying because everyone besides Nisa was still beside themselves with One Direction in-jokes and stuff like that. The whole day. The entire time we were there at Pavilion and when we got back to Raihan's and I bet after Nisa and Hanna and I left, they still continued talking about that. Anyways, we went to Typo and spent a long time there because Hanna wanted a pencil case and couldn't make up her mind. Saw a notebook with a typo on it: 'don't judge a book by it's cover'. Shame. And then after Nisa bought something at Coffee Bean (or... did we go to Dome? Well, my memory is failing me and this has never happened before so what a shock) and we sat around either in our own little worlds or entertaining Nisa by playing Cluedo (the card version) with her. Nisa kept winning, of course.

And then Red Box wherein everyone creamed their pants over that One Direction song I've unfortunately memorized a verse and the chorus of. You would think that going karaoke-ing would be fun, because it always seemed that way in our minds and memories or something, but the actual thing itself is pretty awkward and I always excuse myself to the toilet about three or four times. We went home after. The trip home was kind of a disaster on its own merits, because it was Raihan's first time with this particular form of public transportation. We got on the wrong train once and Raihan got a token she had no idea what to do with and we lost Intan for about a few minutes. Maybe seconds.

When we got back to Raihan's it was praying and taking pictures and looking at pictures and going on the roof. She now has a mini garden sort of thing up there and we are all officially banned from going up on the pointy part of the roof with the tiles and all of that because we have 'grown'. I don't think I grew that much, really, but the roof did let out an almighty creak when I climbed about two feet up. So we took pictures about one eighth of the way up the roof and also near the mini garden. After that, my Dad picked up Hanna, Nisa and I. We went to my house to grab my clothes and then Nisa's to grab hers before my Dad deposited us at Hanna's.

It started out okay, the sleepover. We talked and I think that was basically it before Nisa called Domino's and we talked some more while waiting for the pizza to arrive. Hanna's entire family was out and they came back about sometime after the pizza (bringing a container of takeout pizza for Hanna). And then it started to get really cold for some reason so Nisa wrapped herself up in her measly pink and purple blanket and some pillows because the blanket wasn't enough. I stole Hanna's duvet. Hanna complained that she was kind of hot and we stared at her while she wrapped herself up in a pretty thin orange quilt. Hanna got the projector on but we didn't use it until way later. Basically we just watched Hanna go on Tumblr and Reblog stuff while I asked good questions like "What would you change about your celebrity crush?" and "If you had to propose to your guy, how would you do it?" I think somewhere along the way, we actually had a heart-to-heart. I think that was during pizza. Hanna was opening up and then I couldn't help but crack a smile because I was thinking about how we're finally having one of these and then Nisa looked at me and was like, "Don't say it!" but I said it anyways: "We're having a heart to heart!"

During that question and answer thing that I later on brought up, I asked them whether would they pretend to be someone they weren't just to impress their celebrity crushes and they would only reveal the truth after marriage. Everyone passed the test by saying no, although I just thought that for me, it was a redundant question because then I'd have to pretend to be a guy, and Nisa was like, something about how when I finally told Chris, I could laugh and say, "Haha, you did the right thing!" ...And if that didn't make sense then I apologize but I really don't care right now.

I looked through movies and said we should watch Cloverfield. Hanna vetoed no on that one because she had just recently watched it. I encouraged Nisa to watch The OC so we loaded up the Megavideo page and then when it had fully loaded, Nisa went on Omegle and somehow that fucked up the browser's Flash and we were unable to play the Megavideo video. The previously already fully loaded video. So after a lot of ho-humming as to what to do (because we were seriously out of ideas for what to do and nobody wanted to address the elephant in the room - results the following day), we decided to watch How to Train Your Dragon, which I had recently watched on television but I wasn't about to say no to one of the cutest movies in existence.

I can't believe I fell asleep halfway (well, less than halfway) through it but I did. I guess it wouldn't have happened had I not had a mere three hours sleep the morning before, thanks to Nisa. I woke up sporadically and one of those times, Nisa was telling Hanna that I was asleep and I shocked her by saying, "No, I'm not." Apparently Nisa cried at the end of the movie because it reminded her of her cats. Can't blame her, I cried once or twice after watching it as well.

Day 3

Hanna and I set our alarms to eight but we all woke up at around a few minutes to nine. It was a weird morning because we weren't in the mood to talk about it but yet we couldn't really figure out what else to talk about. We stopped by 7Eleven before heading to school to purchase a box of tissues and we bumped into Raihan's maid. It turned out that Raihan had just left (and keep in mind this was around ten o'clock, the time which the newspaper said we were supposed to receive our results, and Raihan's school was about an hour's drive).

I brought my Pillopet along with me for the sleepover at Hanna's and I was feeling pretty mortified that I had to bring that as well as a couple of clothes hangers inside the school compound but fears were unrealized because my mother was parked right up ahead when we reached school! Surprised, of course, because she arrived before we did. Entering the school was weird because apparently everyone was undecided about what to wear, uniform or not, and I was halfway between with a white cardigan underneath my blazer. But it was definitely nice seeing everyone again. I wasn't scared. I couldn't exactly afford to be scared. As a matter of fact, I was pretty fucking zen.

We waited outside for Nisa's mother. My mother and Hanna's parents were somewhere inside the school. Intan came in a baju kurung and then Afreena came and waited around for people to rush towards her for an embrace. She later on got that five minutes of popularity when we entered the school, Nisa with her mother and her mother with Nisa's breakfast.

It was a long wait and I was astounded at how happy I was to see everyone. The whole 'why me worry' thing was also borderline surprising but not really because when everyone tells you that you're not (never, ever, no way in hell) going to fail straight A's, then I guess it just gets stuck or maybe lodged up in there somewhere. Probably blocking my anxiety button. Saw the crowd of prefects in maroon and hugged them all first. Cassandra looked so cute with her hair tied up. And then I walked up to Zaza and she was biting her nails and Iylia was next to her and aw, hugs. And saw Thivyaa across the way and we waved at each other.

Entering the hall later on was hectic and kind of cruel to all of us because we had waited a long time and now we had to wait some more. Hanna told us her dad told her that the headmistress was on her way and that was why we couldn't have our results yet. Saw tons of other people: Sabrina, bunch of other prefects, Nazureen, Gloria. I asked Gloria what she had been up to over the holidays and she said she had just came back from Singapore. I was already jumping on the balls of my feet when I proceeded to ask her whether she had gone to Marina Bay and whether she had seen Wicked and she said yes to all of the above and so it was her whom I had glimpsed at the waiting area the other day. Man, I felt like such a tool. Saw Thivyaa and hugged. Hugged Nadhrah. I think Xueh Wei came and I hugged her. Found Pri, hugged her. She said that the Transformers ride at Singapore's Universal wasn't even there yet.

And then my English teacher, Pn G, dragged me over to Datin Mary and apparently, they've got Violet, Divya and I all lined up for an interview with the press and I was already shaking and this wasn't exactly fair. Anyways, they dropped Divya for that session and Violet and I hung around awkwardly, trying to figure out how to phrase things in Malay while the RTM crew people fixed their cameras and lighting stuff and when that reporter guy started asking questions, I just blurted out the first things that came to mind and let me tell you, not pretty. There was Divyia and Xueh Wei and Jing Kai and a few others at the sidelines, staring and laughing and there was also this dude, someone's brother, who kept smiling at me whenever I looked his way and that was freaky. So when all was done on my part and he started asking Violet the same questions, I ran far, far away.

Getting the results wasn't much of a story, so who cares. Lines were formed and it took forever to find my class. And then Nina started crying so I side-hugged her. Nisa was like, "Get the tissues!" but they were with Nadiah and we had no idea where she was. And then Nisa started crying big time, and I think Hanna got watery. I didn't feel anything, or at least, I felt a tiny bit nervous, but I guess all that confidence people had in me was really worth something because I didn't give a fuck when I got my results and it turned out to be perfect. So whatever. We took pictures and that was that.

I don't know what to say anymore on the matter, I mean, I knew what I was going to get. I knew there was no chance in hell I would disappoint myself this way. I knew that I deserve it. And grateful to God and the powers that be that I didn't screw this whole thing up completely. I mean, there were moments when I believed the worst would happen, but those passed by almost as quickly as they had came. Mostly, I'm just happy and extremely, super duper proud of Nisa and Hanna (less proud, just more happy for Nadiah because I knew she could do it. She got third or fourth or something in class last year.)

My mother insisted that we take the hundred dollars the school gave away to its students so I had to wait a long time in front of the office for that. My phone was out of battery so I took hers to call up Maze. And then we headed to some hotel my Dad was holding interviews at. I don't know why they didn't just do whatever interview it was at the place where he works, but whatever. So we had lunch. I called my sister and the conversation was literally, "So what did you get?" "8A's." "Okay." and then I told her about Gloria. I still think that's hilarious, though. The chances of seeing someone when you go out here in PJ is sure fire. There is no going out anywhere without seeing someone you recognize. But in Singapore?

The waitress at the hotel restaurant asked me about my results, as I was wearing my uniform and having super posh lunch with my parents and all. When I told her, she said, "Serious?" Oh, whatever. She was nice, though. Before we left, she offered another congratulations. Got home to the ball of (shedding) fur that was my Fluffy and hugged him for a good five minutes before chucking him in my mother's room and told my mother to give him a bath because he reeked. Then I went upstairs and got on Tumblr and just basked in happiness for a while before having a lengthy conversation with Helena and later on Maze via house phone while my cellphone charged. I wanted to call up other people and ask about their results but I decided to just let them come to me.

Also proud of Raihan, of course, and Lynn, Nicolette, Syaz. I fell asleep after catching up with my millions of texts (most of them informing me of the missed calls I had). I woke up at around 6 and that night, I got off from reading the Qur'an with my Dad, pleading laziness and tiredness. After more finding people to talk to and talking to them, I watched It's A Wonderful Life again for the second time in a week at around eleven that night and at the end, I realized that tears were literally pouring down my face. I haven't had tears pour before, not like sheets upon sheets of it, not like rain. I guess it was because of the movie, but also maybe it's just the stress relief that was the entire day. So proud of everything, I feel like adopting kids or baby kittens.

Day 4

Woke up to texts from people whose numbers I don't have saved in phone and Kai. And these pictures. Also super duper proud of Kai. But being proud and morning texts pale in divine comparison to those pictures. It was like, this is my present from the cosmos. I've gotten a present from my sister (the Wicked trip), I'm getting stuff from my parents, and the universe? The universe is giving me pictures of the super hot Chris Colfer in glasses. Well, maybe not the universe. Maybe just Japan. Thanks, Japan! You're welcome for the prayers I sent you earlier on in the year, by the way!

We (and by we, I meant everyone who's anyone) planned a whole-day trip to Sunway Lagoon for Maze's birthday celebrations but a lot of people begged off the activity for lack of money. Heck, I didn't have any money, Helena promised to lend me fifty bucks. Nat picked me up before lunch and it was only then that Maze called to tell us of the cancelled plan. There was something else in its place, though: an all day movie marathon at Leen's house, because her parents were away leaving her older sister and a maid. And she has a huge house. And a projector. And a kick-ass swimming pool. It was supposed to be a potluck movie party sort of thing, where everyone brought a movie each, but of course Nat and I, oblivious of the plan, didn't bring anything. Also on the way, I heard Deck the Halls on the radio and I told Nat about a Christian friend of mine's bastardization of its lyrics and we had a right laugh because even we know the lyrics to that song.

When we got there, tons of people were already gathered, including Sara (whose name I have once again forgotten how to spell - with or without an 'h'?); you might remember her as being the top dog for last year's Drama. She now has kick-ass highlights, and if I could stop saying kick-ass now, that would be fantastic. Also, everyone had already started on a gigantic three-tiered chocolate cake which turned out lopsided and kind of burnt on the bottom, but that was only because the timer was faulty. They did a good job on the cake and I contributed somewhat with decorations by mixing in colors for the icing.

Maze arrived with Elo, Helena and (huge surprise - I screamed) Julie and Leela at about two, after we had stripped the cupboards and fridge of most of the edible foods. Hafriz couldn't make it back for even one week, apparently, but he's got the weekend off whatever side job he's working now (I don't actually hate him anymore, I just don't really think he's the most upstanding citizen and it's all right, Maze feels the same way, I swear.) It was cake and pictures (next to none of them with me in it because I was in the crowd of people taking pictures) (I don't really like chocolate cake) and it's from these pictures that I've managed to compile a list of everyone who was there, and I'm only making this list for memory's sake because even if I have the pictures saved in my computer, I'd like to read about it occasionally: me, Nat, Maze, Elo, Hel, Julie, Leela, Leen, Sara, Dan, Xin Ni, Nazli, Syaz, Kiran, Kaye, Shu Wen, Vin, Farid, Sufyan, Isa, Elizah, (it's so good to see her again after four months!), Eunice, Nicolette, and Derek and don't mind me if I missed anyone because that is a hell of a lot.

We didn't actually get around to watching a lot of movies. There was many a debate as to which movie to watch, as well as a mad scramble for people to copy movies to their pen drives or hard drives. In the end we watched about four, four and a half, which were The Princess Bride, Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang, Almost Famous, The Muppet Christmas Carol, and about a quarter of Friday Night Lights. Everyone got hungry after that and if you can believe it, there was still more cake. It was getting really dark when Nicolette took out a bunch of lanterns that she had brought and we lit them near the swimming pool and everyone went in fully dressed, even though most of us didn't bring a change of clothes.

The night ended with present giving (but not opening) and Leen, hostess extraordinaire, had to help Maze and Elo pile up all the presents into Sara's car. Went home with Sara, with Maze and Elo and Julie. We played Twenty Questions in the car and listened our way through about three mix CDs of Sara's that she had made.

I watched some more movies when I got back home. I was still in that mood. Got my way through Music and Lyrics (Matthew Morrison was in it as that pop star Cora's manager! Oh, my GOD!) and I've just finished watching Disney's A Christmas Carol on TV. Maybe I'll watch The Wizard of Oz again later because I'm still in a Wicked mood (in case you couldn't already tell - I mean, the past two posts had Wicked-related titles). There's tons of pictures of the past few days, sure, but I just don't really feel like posting them? I used to be okay with posting pictures (back when I was both uglier and yet had no crippling anxiety about seeing my face in other people's cameras), but I guess that was also back when I was comfortable using my own camera. Whatever. Times have changed and sooner or later, this is going to turn into a strictly text-only blog.

That would be immensely boring, though.

I don't know. I've been having, in a weird topsy-turvy way, the best few days of my life. I had a rough start with seeing Helena and Maze, because the combination of Helena's wavering worry and Maze's doubtless confidence was kind of throwing me off my game and making me second guess everything, and coming to Raihan's house was definitely a weird experience. I've never walked through her doors in such a beaten-up, slumped down mood before. It's all different now. It's all changed.

And yet there's still Thursday, when I was able to talk to people I have had myriad differences with in the past, like, everything's not suddenly and magically better, or back to the way they were, but just for that moment, just that once, people were happy because they got what they wanted. And that's when they were all soft and pliant and willing to forgive you for whatever things you've wronged them. And with Nisa, whom I was having serious doubts about because I know what kind of person I may seem to her, but she still manages to make me feel like crap whenever she opens her mouth. And Afreena was there and Intan, and I don't even know how she's doing and I'm in not much of a position to offer her any sort of comfort because we've grown that far apart, but I admired her so much yesterday, when she stood with us and took pictures and it's not sympathy, never, because I don't have any of that, it's just being proud of her, but for a different reason.

And today, being happy out of my wits to see Elizah of all people and it really felt like I had finally let that go, like the wound has finally scabbed and hopefully I'll never hear of it again. Seeing Julz and Leela was another amazing thing that happened to me these past couple of days on a very long string of amazing things, and getting to celebrate Maze's birthday with a lot of people who are happy and carefree enough (at whatever costs) to call me friend, and just, the whole thing.

And just, the whole week.

Sudden Silence

2011-12-22T18:27:00.000+08:00

And now, what now?

Alas!

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

So today was a good day. I haven't been having the time of my life or anything the last couple of days, and it was nowhere near as bittersweet as the night before UPSR results. There were no Shitty Witty shows, there were promises and toasts made that I know we wouldn't keep, there's just a whole lot of things that are different now because I'm seeing the world through a different set of glasses. I guess in a lot of ways I used to be more optimistic. And you know what, I think Form 1 me was optimistic to a fault. Like, maybe I always expected the best in people. That's the bittersweet part about it all. The fact that I can remember the last time this happened in my life, three years ago, and it was during a time in which I saw good things in my future, instead of... blankness.

Waking alone

At the hour when we are

Trembling with tenderness

Lips that would kiss

Form prayers to broken stone.

And now, a list.

~~Maze's birthday thing tomorrow.~~

~~Going to my paternal hometown on Saturday with my parents and sister.~~ (cancelled)

~~Going out on Sunday to find stuff to make me happy.~~ (cancelled but I found stuff to make me happy)

Maybe a family dinner on Sunday night which I'm entrusting my mother to plan but she's never going to get around to doing it (or at least doing it properly) unless I urge her through every step of the way.

~~Find out when my next orthodontist appointment is because I have a feeling it might have been yesterday.~~

~~That crafty sleepover with Nisa plus a pre-visit to OU. Buy stuff for my pencil box.~~ (cancelled)

~~A separate sleepover with Hanna before school starts.~~

~~Buy school stuff at Giant: shoes, new shirt, correction tape and top up my ten things.~~

~~Buy reference books and those small normal lined exercise books.~~

~~Buy stuff from the Koperasi: socks, about 3-4 sesi tags, 2 badges, Amali books, maybe a GERKO card if they have those in stock.~~

The eyes are not here

There are no eyes here

In this valley of dying stars

Sigh. I don't know what I expected. I don't know how I expected myself to feel. Helena, who was so nonchalant about her results last year assured me that it really didn't matter countless times and yet this year, she was kind of antsy for me. And that made me feel antsy. I went out with her and Maze the other day, right after Johor and right before Raihan's house and we couldn't stop laughing every time we caught each other's eyes because it's ridiculous. Worrying about this is ridiculous. Maze, for his part, didn't have any doubts at all. And between the two of them, they kind of drove me mad. I wanted to talk about it, I wanted to say something, I wanted to do, but of course there was nothing I could do.

And so I had to stuff all my emotions in a box and forget about them. I had to not feel anything or else I would feel too much. It wasn't worry, it wasn't anxiousness, it was just... the fear of inadequacy, which I think a lot of people feel more than actual nerves. It's a phobia, not a reaction or a feeling, and phobias are much easier to quell.

We grope together

And avoid speech

Gathered on this beach of the tumid river

When I got the results, it wasn't even a thing anymore. Nisa was crying up a river, so I had to drag her away from just standing there and being a confused little thing, and her mother was like, "Nisa, wait," because Nisa started dragging her mother as well. And then Nadiah was there, and she was happy and huggy and it was apparently obvious to all that we were going to get what we had aimed for all year. And later on Hanna was there, and I don't think even Zayn Malik could put that smile on her face. And when they called my name up, there was applause, but there was more of a silence. Not in the room, more like in my head. I tried not to psych myself up, maybe I'm wrong, maybe they are wrong. But I looked at the slip of paper immediately, an immediate reaction, and when I stepped off stage, people were hugging me and I just can't remember what anymore.

Because what anymore?

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper.

No Good Deed

2011-12-21T21:56:00.000+08:00

I was going to ask people to help me out with this but I don't know. It just ended up being this thing that was weirdly personal and I decided that I've never ever relied on other people before and to start now would be an injustice to my image. I've always been honest on this blog. I've always been honest except for two things. I've never lied to the readers of this blog other than about those two things. And I wouldn't call it lying, not really. I'd call it... misdirection. Omission, perhaps.

I wanted to make it big, make it bold and send a message, but I realized that the only reason it worked out so well for the pre-UPSR results was because I was leaving then. I was leaving school and starting a new chapter of my life and things needed to be said. Issues needed to be resolved. But I'm not leaving now, I'm staying. And I know Form 4 is this whole new world and things will be different and who knows, maybe It Gets Better from here on out (although I am seriously not counting on that) but all I know is, there is absolutely no sense of finality to anything.

PMR result is in two days and there's no sense of an ending because this isn't the end and I don't want to seem like a loser and say it's the start of something new because be that as it may, I'm still going to see the same people at school next year. Same friends, although that's definitely subject to change. Expected to change, even. So this isn't an 'out with a bang' thing. This isn't even a 'not with a bang, but with a whimper' thing. This is just a thing that I'm writing up because I'm going to Raihan's house in a few and from there, things will take off. From there, I have to move. I would apologize for thrusting Wicked stuff in your faces more than necessary, but can you blame me? I just watched the show two days ago.

The trouble with school is

they always try to teach the wrong lesson

I started school a different person and now I am a different person. What a miracle, huh? I should write to the paper about that. That's publishable, that is. Anyways, can I just say that thank God I'll never have to step foot inside Sri Aman as a Form 1 student again? It was a good year, though, Form 1 and I know I'm trivializing a lot of things by writing this, all of this, because I'm not in a good mood tonight, but it was a year that shaped all the years to come. I could lie and say that I learned more about myself in Form 2 than in Form 1 just because of what I discovered about myself in my second year of high school, or I could say the truth and that is that Nisa, Lana, Ungku, Afreena and Intan all contributed to a large chunk of who I am today.

And I became close to Hanna. All in all, I sometimes wish I could go back. It was a good year. I didn't feel neglected by people like I did in Standard 6. It was one of the few years in which the drama wasn't the centerpiece of the whole entire year and I wasn't pining after anyone. I mean, there was that thing that I am not planning to talk about, because as we know I have a strict Do Not Talk About That on My Blog rule so fill in the blanks by yourself, if you're so inclined. So I'll ignore that for the most parts of this post.

Or maybe I just like that year because I didn't know yet. Actually, come to think of it, that's definitely it. Right on the nose. I had my differences with Nisa but it didn't disrupt our friendship in an epic way. I just hadn't thought so much about it then and I guess for the most part, I am grateful to have a brief reprieve from her last year (but we'll get back to that later). And as for Afreena, if it's worth anything for my reputation, I would say that I am sorry for making her feel bad. I just didn't think it would be that big of a deal to tell someone that you are uncomfortable with the way they were acting. It might not be the worst thing I've ever done in my life, but I regret the way I handled the situation. I was emotionally ill-equipped to deal with it. I really was. I mean, I had no emotions, for one thing.

I deeply regret how far Intan and I have drifted from each other. I guess I am glad for the earlier parts of the year, sports practice, when I can enjoy some time with her. Regardless of everything that transpired, I actually miss writing her name. Typing her name, I should say. Intan. Intan, Intan, Intan. And like Afreena, I may have let go of whatever little bits of affection I felt for Intan but she'll always be in my heart. It's that kind of thing.

1 Fasih taught me that I was a bitch. Being a prefect taught me that I wasn't going to go anywhere with my attitude towards life and as the months flew by in a blur, it also taught me that I don't particularly care if I don't go anywhere in life if going somewhere meant I have to be just like everyone else. And the end of the year taught me that I should have made more friends, probably, but I was just kind of happy that I was going to have Islamic Studied with Hanna.

I don't want to talk about last year. I mean, I made friends, sure. Now they're gone and I have no idea what to say. I miss 2G a lot, a lot of days in a row but then again, I hated the year for making me, well, for making me into the person that I am today. Not- not in the sense that the year shaped me, molded me and taught me important and applicable life lessons that I've since incorporated into my daily life like in Form 1 (although a little bit of that, too, yeah). But more in the sense of that whole mess with... I don't want to say their names. I know they'll read this and I know that they probably have no idea that one problem inevitably linked to another and I just can't bear knowing that you guys know.

I've learned to live with it and it's my decision. I'm not doing this for anyone else but myself. I'm not living for anyone else but myself so I certainly am not going to hell for anyone but myself. And that's my decision. That's what I chose. And that's why I hate the bejeezus out of you guys for making me choose.

Here I go, back to being a psycho who writes indecipherable, cryptic stuff on her blog. I do not blame you one bit if you decide to stop reading here, good sir. Anyways, yeah, I guess it was a good year. Like that Captain Jack Sparrow guy from Dare to Speak made me realize, once you have the goddamn best day of your life, everything else pales in comparison. Once you realize that everyone actually does care about you, everything else that they do following that realization hurts like pin needles straight through the heart. They can never live up to your vision of them, the high pedestal you put them on, and you can never live it down.

So when I went home from McDonald's where we had our class party last year, I cried. It was... I didn't know that it was over but I guess I had an inkling. That was the last of the happy days. I miss Lana, I miss Ungku and I still do to this very day. I don't care what I think of them because sometimes unfavorable thoughts pop up in my head and sometimes I voice them out. I just know that if things were different, if I were still allowed to keep them, I would. I'd keep them forever. And about Nisa, it was amazing to have a year all to myself. I started it alone, I ended it alone and in the middle I learned how to cope and live my life day to day wondering who I'll be friends with today, just like Standard 5. And just like Standard 5, I came away from the year with abject regrets and a whole lot of pining.

I pined for a 'friend' who I thought was the best option I had, out of everyone else. I pined for her because I learned how to forgive her. I learned that she's a bad person but who am I to judge? I learned that I like her regardless of her way of life and I just, I guess devastated wouldn't be the word I'd use, but I felt sort of betrayed when she told me that she knew all along. I mean, I suffered through a whole year of looking backwards, looking to the left, and why didn't you tell me? Earlier, I mean. Last year, I mean. I could've... I could have not done what I had done.

And what had I done? The same thing I did to that guy I had a crush on in Standard 5. The same thing I did to Maze. Probably, the same thing I did to Hel. Pushed. I am never going to be able to say this to her face or to write this down in a letter because paper burns, but I am so sorry, Pri. It was the worst I've ever done. Even worse than insulting someone just because I was 'in love' with them and they didn't love me back. Even worse than pretending to like someone even though I was 'in love' with someone else. Even worse than what I did to Hel, which has scarred her for life, I know, and she'll probably never ever forgive me, regardless of how far we've come from that point. I'm not going to try for making things the way they were anymore. I pined a whole year and it was worth it just to get that big fat slap right at the end of the road. It was worth it to learn my lesson.

And now whatever ways our stories end

I know you have rewritten mine

by being my friend

When you love someone, you let them go, right? I'm sorry and I won't bother you again next year and I'll never delude myself into thinking that things are ever going to go back to the way they were and I'm so happy that you've found a group of friends that treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

I know I didn't try this year. I was busy with other things, other problems, other people's drama that I made my own. I know my class, 3 Fasih, probably has no fond memories of me at all and I know that they don't care for me. And I am sorry for looking at you like I was better than you, like I deserve better than all of you, because the truth never excuses a person's behavior. Especially when, like mine, said behavior sucked so bad that I probably have a thousand million years to make up for everything. I don't know whether being in the same class as Nisa was for good or whether it made things so much worse. I don't know whether that whole thing with Nadiah was even worth it. I don't know what I'm doing anymore because I am so fucking lost.

Just like that - shot, dashed. End of the year and you think you've got it all figured out. And it's the most important lesson of all, the biggest slap in the face, when you figure out that sometimes it's better to stay silent. Sometimes it's better than honesty.

I am sorry for making you realize things you shouldn't have to realize. I am sorry for insisting and for pushing and for pushing you guys away. I need my space, sure, but I also need to learn how to cope with people when they won't give me my space, or when they give me too much of it. It's too much, too late, and I understand that I've got a long way to go before I can ever truly be satisfied with myself. Thursday's a start, though.

Don't dream too far

Don't lose sight of who you are

Don't remember that rush of joy

As for crushes and relationships and everything in between, I've learned a lot about a lot of things, but mostly I learned that people are mirrors. And whatever they've done and whatever wrongs they've done especially reflects upon you. I know that I'll never be happy unless I tell him everything I'm worried about and I can only hope he'll return the favor but whatever happens in the future, I'll learn to survive it like I did last year. And the year before.

I was over it. I know that I can't just pray it away and I know that no mater where my life leads me now, I'm going to spend my years trying to wrong what's right. I know that and I've accepted that. Doesn't mean I want to see other people do the same. I was over it.

And now it's here again and I don't know what to do and I can only pray that... well, no, I've tried that. I just... I can only wait and see it out. I understand now what trust means, I understand how it works and I understand what my problems with it are. I'll get past it and hopefully It Gets Better. In order, I'll give credit where credit is due.

Maze, for sticking it out. Syaz, for making it better. Darwin, for making it worse. Hel, for making me realize that there's more to life than what I knew. And let's not forget You Know Who, who I've mentioned countless times up there, who made me realize what a horrible person I am. I learned my lesson, thrice over, and maybe I'll need more reminding in the future. Right now I've got right-wing Maze, to be my alarm clock to reality, and left-wing Hel, to make sure I never get lost in the clouds.

I know how little you guys who are not involved in any of this understand this post and I'm sorry. I have my secrets. And I think I'll keep them.

Unlimited

My future is unlimited

Out of Narnia

2011-12-20T20:39:00.001+08:00

001. My sister and I went to Subang to get chocolates that she had ordered online or something like that. She told me we were going out at 9 and me, forgetting the fact that the shops barely open at ten, woke up at about seven and got ready and dressed by eight something and then I went to wake my sister up and she grumbled at me. It wasn't the most pleasant of mornings, unless you count the gigantic avalanche of fanfiction updates that morning. People get busy on Friday nights, don't they?

Breakfast was cereal for me but then my sister, my Dad and I had a sort of brunch at Secret Recipe and of course I didn't finish my food. And then we just went around. I saw the kiosk selling Pillopets. There was a purple bunny with the polka dots under its ears! They were sold out when my sister went to buy my Chris Chang. Sad but I like sheep, too, I guess. And I can't believe I added an 's' after sheep the first time I typed that out. I honestly don't think there's more to the story than this, other than the fact that I got candy canes and tiny little candle holders for my thousands of candles.

002. There was some problem or another with my sister's car, so instead of the intended hour of 2, we left around something past 3. I hate writing with numbers. Anyways, we had lunch at home and the journey took four hours or something like that and I had wanted to connect my iPod to my sister's radio via Bluetooth but things didn't run smoothly at all so I just listened to my own music while my sister had the radio on. I don't remember what we talked about but who cares at this point because this happened almost a week ago.

003. We stayed at my sister's friend's house in Johor Bahru. That night, we had pizza and watched The King's Speech. Also, cats! They were locked up in a room, which I think is kind of sad because Fluffy gets to walk wherever the hell he wants to go to, but I guess some people prefer house cats. Probably just as well, since my sister's cat is such a scaredy, he wouldn't last a single night at a cat fight club.

004. We left at nine for the Singapore. I had planned to call my Dad to remind him to switch on the computer because I had a cake waiting to be baked in the oven (a Torrent waiting to be downloaded) but I forgot. It was a cab to CIQ, a bus into Singapore and another cab to Marina Bay. We got the tickets first and then walked around a lot. I saw on the website the other day that there was going to be a Narnia exhibition but it was a pretty small exhibition and it was super open. Like, we could see everything going on inside from the outside. So what was the point. We had a sort of lunch, I guess, because it was just sandwiches and a pie or something (I can't remember) and chocolate mousse. I don't know why I don't consider that heavy enough for a lunch but all right.

We had a lot (a lot!) of time to spare before actually being allowed to enter the theater at one so I guess we just... walked around or something. Went to Cold Storage, some other shops, the toilet, and then one o'clock rolled around and we went back to the theater place. Of course everything in the souvenir shop was overpriced, but it wasn't as bad as how Ellie described Wizarding World (thirty something for a keychain or something?) (and fuck you, spell-check, keychain is one word). But I still couldn't afford anything so it was into the theater we go. Went. Whatever.

I thought I saw Gloria walking around among the many people milling around in that waiting place, but I was sort of preoccupied with thoughts of "yay, I'm going be seeing Wicked!" and the like so I didn't really pay close attention. And plus, how embarrassing would it be if I had tapped her on the shoulder and it turned out to be another person? I did try, though; I circled around her a bit but then my sister was like, want to go upstairs, so we went upstairs and I forgot all about it. Giving props where it's definitely due, my sister goes all out. We got the front row of the top tier (I don't actually know what the tiers are called so whatever), overlooking the stage. Like, near where some of the lights are. The railings in front of us were kind of annoying but I could either sit up and forward to or slouch down in my seat to get a spectacular view.

The show itself was nice. I mean, I know, I know, Wicked is overrated in some if not most circles, but it's still the first musical that I've ever watched that was from Broadway. So I am thankful and all of that and I still can't get some of the songs out of my head. I don't know what else to say, I mean, I'm no critic. I'm not writing a review or anything.

I was surprised at how much I already knew the plot, probably because I unconsciously understood the songs as I listened to the soundtrack. Also surprised by how much it reminded me of my favorite Shakespeare sonnet, and if you don't know which one that is, shame on you, ignorant reader (but it's this one, anyways).

005. Three cabs back to Johor Bahru. That night was more subdued because we were both tired from... travelling and walking around, I guess. My sister wanted to watch that Amelia Earhart movie with Hilary Swank and Richard Gere and, okay, I can appreciate a kick-ass female role model and all, but aviation has never, nor will it ever be, a particular interest of mine. Still lookin' good, though, Richard Gere. My mother loves him. Later on in the night, I watched The Smurfs on my sister's laptop. Cutesy and all and that song that's supposed to be annoying is actually very endearing, in my opinion, but overall, I was rooting for the cat with the faces the whole way through. And I kept cringing at how much these people destroyed. I mean, that was a perfectly nice toy shop.

006. We headed to my sister's house the following day (and if it's getting hard to follow, that would be a Monday). I read fanfiction a lot. And then fell asleep. Home alone because my sister was at work so I had to feed the cats and clean their poop and stuff. There was absolutely nothing to eat so I had to make do with an almost finished bag of nachos and instant soup. On the plus side, my sister had a nice stock of those Nescafe mocha things.

007. I love cats. I wonder how many times I'm allowed to say this before it starts to sound redundant to my ears, but I have a feeling, quite a lot of times.

008. Singing session turned bonding session. I took Caesar and sang Lion King songs to him, and then Smokey (Smoky?) and sang Anastasia songs random Disney ones. Smokey (however you spell his name) had taken a shining to me by then and he would come up to me on the bed and curl up at my feet. Even Fluffy doesn't do that!

009. My parents arrived. How do I know that my mother hasn't been abducted and replaced by an alien in a human body suit? My mother A) loves the stuffing out of cats, like I do, and she wouldn't stop fretting over the two cats when she arrived but then later on, she would have them sleep in the other room because she didn't want the door opened and the smell of poop to come in and bother her, and B) she didn't bring pajamas so she borrowed a shirt from my sister and wore nothing else to bed.

010. The next day was just kind of... a day. We had lunch with my sister and came home to an empty house (my parents brought along our maid to clean the place up and my maid stayed behind while we all went out for lunch). It turns out she (my maid) was on yet another one of her random excursions and my mother blew her top. But life moves on. And after a lot of hullabaloo, we finally headed home. Smokey wasn't even scared of me when I came after him to hug goodbye. My sister said that when she goes to New Zealand for two weeks next year, she'll let me take care of him!

Which brings us to today.

I'm sorry for the format and I'm sorry I didn't write much. I have other things to do.

Don't Forget Your Passport

2011-12-17T08:39:00.000+08:00

I have been reading fanfiction and downloading movies and watching stuff on YouTube and once in a while, check my Tumblr dashboard. I have been in a good mood in which I couldn't wipe the smile off my face, an annoyed mood in which I feel like punching someone, an angry mood because my computer shuts off at the most inopportune times, a silly mood, a funky mood, a creys mood from really angsty fanfiction and a "Oh, my God, my nails are so long" mood every time I so much as look at them nails.

There's also the ever-present "I hate people so much" mood, which is probably just residual anger at stuff Hanna and I talked about when we went out God-knows-when-that-was. And Nisa. Let's not forget Nisa. On the bright side, movies like It's A Wonderful Life have really put things into perspective. Sadly I don't think anyone's going to be praying for my well-being or sending angels down to stop me from suicide anytime soon, but it's never good to make assumptions off of these things.

I have been singing a lot of Christmas songs along with whoever it is singing it on radios or television or Christmas-themed television show episodes. I don't even know when I got to the point of memorization, but it's always nice to know that you've successfully memorized something without even noticing it. Like, I have no clue what any of the songs are about, except maybe Santa Claus is Coming to Town because I'm pretty sure that's about Santa Claus coming to town, but it also makes me feel great, happy and very, very jolly because as it turns out, some very weird (quite possibly borderline stupid) people here who actually celebrates Christmas don't know the proper words to the very basic of songs.

Those three paragraphs weren't a waste of time at all.

Off to the ride the sunsets with my sister, whom I'm periodically annoyed at just because it's in my genes, I think. Allons-y!

Someone Else's Problem

2011-12-15T23:37:00.001+08:00

I don't know my days and dates, they all sort of just lump together.

1. For the Most Part

I have been working towards a goal! The completion of my list of things to do during the holidays. I keep adding and subtracting stuff from it but I think I'm going to be able to cross off everything from the list real soon. Actually, I don't know, I haven't looked at it in a while now because I'm scared. I will do a nice long post when I do finish everything on the list (preferably a few days before school so I don't end up adding in more stuff) so until then, you're not getting anything out of me about my holiday activities, no sir.

2. But Other Than That

I have also been going out. I can't remember when this was, but I went out with my parents one night of this week to get stuff my mother wanted and I also got pancake-making and eating stuff so that when my sister plops by this Friday evening/Saturday morning to whisk me off to, um, Oz, we can make and then eat pancakes. I like pancakes. I also find it appalling that every time I go out, I always see someone I know and my parents always see someone they/one of them knows/know/knew. But not knew, I think, because that would mean that person is dead, wouldn't it?

And then Hanna and I went to The Only Shopping Mall In Existence and I got a wallet while Hanna got a pair of tights, two pairs of chopsticks, black fabric paint and God, I hope that's it but I have a feeling I'm missing something. We watched Puss In Boots and that was hands down, swear to God the cutest thing I have seen all year. I had no idea who was voicing whom in the movie but I guessed that Salma Hayek was Kitty Softpaws and I totally got that right. +1 for Ravenclaw!

And then (wait for it) we watched Glee! Oh, my God, I honestly felt so bad but I couldn't. I mean, Chris was in almost every single scene and I just couldn't. First I skipped skipped skipped like I did for the past two weeks but then Hanna got annoyed so we watched the whole thing except for the Blaine and Rachel duet because I hate the fact that those two have more chemistry than Klaine. I feel bad, sure, but Judy Garland Christmas Show! (Which, I'm downloading now!)

I went to Helena's house today and I think we just talked a lot and watched movies and ate cake (from her aunt's birthday or something). We watched It's A Wonderful Life, The Wizard of Oz, Spirited Away and I had to go halfway through downloading Brown Bunny. I also cleaned the heck out of my room. Seriously, previous years, when I said I cleaned my room, I really meant just chucking any odd bits and sheets of papers I find lying around in any of my drawers or cupboards, but this time, I cleaned out the crud! There's a towering stack of papers in my living room now, as well as stacks of books to be given away/recycled and two bags full of clothes to give away.

And that brings us to right now.

3. And Some Other Stuff

I find it funny because I can worry about it until my hair grays out and I grow a beard but ultimately, there's nothing I'm going to get done. I don't mind being me, other people mind. So now I can only think of one way to move forward and that is to fix the parts of me that I don't like and, like Ellie said, screw 'em. Screw 'em all.

And some other, other stuff, I've been reading this historical book and at first it was so charming and felt like a book of anecdotes instead of, you know, a history lesson, but past the first few pages, it dragged really badly and now I am at a crossroads. To forget about the book and find other, worthier endeavors, or to just stick it out. I'm sure people have thought this about me, as a person, but I'm not a book. Once put down, I'm not exactly going to stay down, am I?

(Ode to) Joy

2011-12-12T23:16:00.000+08:00

Do you ever feel like what even was your life before Chris?

- A brain-eating question put forth by Hanna.

And then Hanna and I had A Conversation through text. A very short one, given how our conversations through text are usually much longer. She claimed that she had no life before Zayn and I guess, you know, we are what we think we are. If Hanna thinks that she didn't have a life before Zayn, then who am I to tell her otherwise? If I told a cow that it wasn't a cow, does that change the fact that the cow clearly knows it's a cow? And if I told Nisa that she was a cow, does that change the fact that she clearly thinks she knows she's a human being? I think the answer is no on both accounts. I also think Hanna is over exaggerating because even I know that I had a life before Chris Colfer.

That's not what I said, of course. I told her, "Lol. There was none." and, of course, if I'm being silly and fangirlish, that would be the epitome of what I am today. A girl without a life before her favorite celebrity came into the picture. But I'm not that girl. I wake up in the morning in a house with people I sometimes like, sometimes don't. In a few more weeks, I'll be waking up to go to a school with people I definitely don't like and study things I definitely do not want the teachers at the school to be teaching me. I'll come home and go on the Internet and then do tons of other things. Chris Colfer is nothing more than five percent of my time, two percent of my thoughts. And I had a life before him. I still woke up and went to school and learned stuff and came home and went online and did things. I still read up about stuff on the Internet and went on Tumblr and watched television shows and had thoughts about stuff. But that's ridiculous. Because I've changed.

1. Like I said in a previous post (the one with the Emmy awards and prayer circles and how Xueh Wei wouldn't pray for Chris' Emmy win so I felt like he had been neglected by the Buddhist community), I think I'm better with handling obsessive people. I mean, if it weren't for my obsession, I would never have tolerated people like Divyia and Xueh Wei. I would have ruthlessly and relentlessly tore them down. And also maybe those K-pop loving people. And Nisa and Hanna. Definitely Nisa and Hanna. I used to make posts demeaning Twilight and, well, people, and I still do that (demean people) except now I tell it to their faces and write it on the blog. It's a recent resolution and it's going to be included in 2012's resolution as well. "It's because I understand now, on a level that not many of my obsessions made me understand, how important someone can be to you even if it's just some guy on television."

2. All right. So this one is hard to admit because it's embarrassing, for one thing, and I really hate to bring it up because recently, it's a wound that has had salt rubbed on it one too many times. But I'll bring it up, for the sake of this post. Last year, I was no kinder no meaner than I am this year but I guess the difference is that I felt more insecure last year, probably because of what I was going through and probably all I needed to hear was, "There's nothing wrong with who you are. Just be yourself." which is something that today has been repeated ad nauseam that it's made me nauseous, but I never heard it last year; not from people around me, not from people all the way on the other side of the world. So really, it's been a learning experience for me. Because that's actually really dangerous advice. Because I'm not a good person. Because I'm mean. And because I find it to change and I don't really have that much incentive to change. So, for me, that might be what I had needed to hear last year, but damn, if it isn't the wrong advice. But Chris helps. I mean, definitely. And sometimes I just feel so ashamed because a person like me really doesn't deserve to be a Chris fan, do I? It's not anger, it's plain old schadenfreude. And I've got that in spades.

3. But that's the most important part, though. That I realize it. Some people actually think I am unaware of how bitchy I am. That's not true. I know I'm selfish, mean and self-centered. I know I 'care only for myself'. I know I do everything for personal gain and the list goes on and on and on. But I realize it. People say that that's the first step in rectifying your mistake and I hope to God that one day, I'll find it in me to be a nicer person. I mean, I don't see it happening in the near future but, who knows? I like being a fangirl. It's honestly the best part of my day. And I don't like feeling like I don't deserve this just because I used to be a bully and am still very, very mean to people. I think some days I don't care and some times I do and that's great because I used to not care altogether, all the time! Such teeny tiny little baby steps.

4. I'm good with it now. I mean, there is no way I'm going to be comfortable a hundred percent because there always will be unanswered questions, but I am honestly okay with everything. I'm learning how to cope, how to juggle it and it's fine so far. I haven't hit any bumps or gotten sidetracked. I know what I want now and sometimes I'm going to take a little detour, but for the most part, I know it's not going to go away, I know this is something I have to live with, and I know that it's possible. Whatever I want and whatever I choose to happen is possible.

5. I learned how to be a fan. How to debate. How to string words together in different settings: arguments, persuading someone, calming people down, assuring someone, and the all important and very standard keyboard smash. I know I learned most of this from the Harry Potter fandom but I was nine years old. Nine, ten, eleven and twelve, I hardly knew what I was talking about. I could be analytical when I'm talking about scenes in the books but God, I really had no idea what I was talking about beyond that. Now I'm older and I have better opinions and I love sharing my opinions and it's been a blast to be a part of a community that is willing to listen to those opinions, and also a side community that is willing to criticize them.

6. I know a lot of things now. And that is an understatement, sure, but I seriously can't believe how far I've come. I learned so much about society and The Important Issues plaguing it today. Last year, I had a conversation with a nameless friend about a nameless topic and it makes my face burn red to recall it because I was so ignorant. I was talking out of my ass and it was embarrassing then but it's even more embarrassing for me now. There are certain things I used to say that I don't say anymore. Certain things I used to think was okay to do, that I now know is really, really rude. So it's kind of awful, for one thing, to be hurting the feelings of those close to me and yet be very protective about people I don't even know who're facing God-knows-what God-knows-where, but I think I have my priorities straight. For me. I have my priorities straight for me.

7. Everything that I am today, every opinion and every little bits and pieces of information that I stored away from my time on the Internet, I shaped and trimmed and pruned when I started becoming a Chris fan. Most of the philosophies I live by today, I cultivated when I started becoming a Chris fan. So he's not like, every single part of my life, and I do not dedicate every single second of my day to him, but he's a pretty big deal.

And like I said before, I don't put him on a pedestal because I know what it feels like to be on one. I won't ever put anyone under that kind of pressure. For now, whatever kind of mishmash of perfect and flaw that he is, I'll happily obsess over and observe and learn from, from afar.

So, yeah. I had a life before him. Now I have a better life.

I'm not trying to demean anyone or put down anyone's obsessions or anything like that, I swear. Most of the time, when I come off as offensive or personally insulting, I really am just saying. But I honestly don't understand those people who call celebrities their future husband or wife or whatever. I mean, I get that they're just joking. But let's be realistic here. If I had a chance to meet Chris, sure I'd go for it but even if I had the plane tickets and the venue tickets, there's still no guarantee. It's basically impossible. Maybe it's because I know he's gay and all and even if I were supermodel gorgeous I still have no chance in hell, but I've never wished him not to be. I've never even said that I wished him not to be (except for that once in that poem I made but only because I needed something to rhyme with 'day' and 'gay' was the first thing that popped into my mind). So I understand that deep down, Nisa and Hanna and a hell of a lot of other people know they're not going to meet their celebrity idols, but why even say it, you know? I'm not trying to detract you from your fun. I'm not taking away your rights to have a good time and be a happy fangirl, but I honestly would rather draw lines and have boundaries. Chris and all of those other celebrities are people. Not playthings.

Anyways, that's it, really. I feel like crap now because not only did I just write a lot about how I really don't deserve to be a Chris Colfer fan, I also wrote something borderline demeaning and definitely condescending about my friends.

At least I realize I'm doing it?

How Television Ruined My Life

2011-12-10T18:19:00.002+08:00

(Honestly, I'm in such a bad mood. Seventy thousand one hundred and seventeen things to do and seven thousand one hundred and sixteen things went wrong. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, had a terrible lunch, my toilet is making me anxious, and something terribly wrong is going on with my iTunes, I don't even understand it, but seriously, what a crap day. It's such a crap day.)

This is the story of television.

And how it ruined my life.

+++

Before that, let's go to last night, when I went over to Hanna's house with a sleepover with Nisa there as well. While not entirely relevant to the story, it does have some points worth highlighting. I headed over there at about eight, with a pit stop at 7Eleven to get Pepsi for me (they didn't have Coke; what kind of 24 hour convenience store doesn't stock up on Coke?) and Nisa was like, get me something, and I asked her what she wanted and this is, clearly, explicitly and verbatim, what she said: anything. I got her something that both she and Hanna didn't take much of a fancy to (I don't really eat junk food in the middle of the night?) and then Nisa complained. She said, and I can quote it front and back, anything, that I was to get her anything, and yet when I got her something, the equivalent of her version of anything, she complained. That is really human of you, Nisa. Congratulations on being human. God knows we all need a pat on the back for that every once in a while. But this whole thing only really worked me up this morning, so we're skipping a bit ahead of ourselves, aren't we?

It started off weirdly, the sleepover, mostly because we slept in Hanna's parent's room, which in itself is pretty weird, I figured. Nisa was hugging her elbows for some reason, and Hanna was still 'busy' being engrossed in pictures of her Zayn, I guess. I also guess that's how you spell his name. Yeah, that's it. (Fun fact: when I Googled his name, the most popular search keywords other than zayn malik was zayn malik muslim.) I don't know, I guess we talked and Nisa put on some James Franco interviews while I worked on the cover art for Afreena's welcome home mix CD. I like what I made for her, really, mostly because I did it in two hours, not counting the extra time it took to make the cover at Hanna's, of course. After that, we watched a little bit of Howl, and the animation was cool and all, and watching Nisa's face when the scene turned explicitly gay was also hilarious, but for all of that, we were all still very much bored out of our minds. I'd like to try watching it again, maybe. Alone.

And I guess that's when we decided to bake. Well, we put on The Breakfast Club, which is such a good movie and all, but Hanna wasn't getting into it and Nisa was all awkwardly trying to find something else to do (like bake) so it ended pretty soon after the detention started, like before they even got to much of anything. Not saying that I don't enjoy doing stuff with my these people (which is, for the most part, true, because I like being alone), but I really cannot for the life of me watch a serious movie with them. It's sad. I'll get to this a little later on in the story (and, yes, while I said this was going to be a story about television, I was pretty serious and I was also somewhat serious about this being a part of the story).

We scoured the Internet for recipes. If I were to tell you the Google search horror stories we had then that would take up the entire post and I don't really much care for it anyways so we finally decided on a simple enough looking pancake mix, but we had no golden syrup so we decided to just make it without and hope for the best. Hoping, for all that they say it's essential in life and survival and some other things that they say about being an optimistic person, doesn't really pay off that much because it tasted of nothing. The pancakes, they tasted of nothing. We even put in a little vanilla. We also put in coloring, but that's really not all that relevant. Rest assured that we came away from that whole experience with stained fingers. I think while Hanna's hand is terrible (the mixture of blue and yellow dye makes it seem dead and zombified), the red coloring on the inside of my very long fingernail is really a huge, huge travesty. We took pictures of the batter in the bowls because the colors were pretty. We also laughed a lot, until Hanna said, "Thank God for friends," and Nisa muttered, "You made her mad you know," and I said, "Excuse me?" and Nisa said, "Nothing." So that was when I decided I needed to take a break.

And it was a good time for a break, too, because this is where the story starts to get a teeny tiny bit more relevant than all those words I just wrote up there. But first, we'll stop this story here and pick it up a little later on, because I've got something else to say.

+++

A few weeks ago, like, really a long time ago, I decided to watch Switched at Birth. I don't know why. I guess I heard good stuff about it on the Internets and Starworld was really pushing it (not as much as they were pushing New Girl, though. The new Friends? Seriously? Zooey Deschanel is... she can't possibly replace Friends. It's rock bottom, fifty feet o' crap, and then New Girl) (sorry, so sorry for digressing) so I thought, why not. It seems like a better thing to do with my time than, say, watching 90210 or Gossip Girl or God forbid. Well, that was I thought at the time, anyways, and yeah, on most levels, Switched at Birth really is better than 90210 and Gossip Girl and Glee.

Not, however, by much.

The pilot episode was so crazy. Like, I felt like all the characters (or the actors playing the characters and quite possibly the writers as well) were all high. It was only marginally better than the Vampire Diaries pilot. Picture it: Bay finds out that her blood type doesn't match up to her parents' at all and then something or another and then the hospital's telling them that there was a mix up and that the daughters were switched at birth and all that basic premise stuff, all laid down in the first ten minutes or so. I guess that, really, the whole point wasn't the big reveal. The show's already called Switched at Birth so really, no surprise off of that card trick. It just felt rushed, is all, but for all of its pacing problems, it really came together sometime towards the end, when I was literally screaming at them to MOVE IN TOGETHER. This is like a poor man's OC, with the extra guest house and all (Ryan lived in a pool house but I am taking liberties for the sake of liberties here). So it was fine.

And then I got to know Bay.

So pretty, right? Right. Well, anyways, whoever wrote Bay has some issues with rich people or something. Because she is the most 2 dimensional character on the entire show. You have to hear how she talks, it sounds so... actress who doesn't know what she's doing playing the part of a rich girl who, by some weird twist of fate, was supposed to be born in a poor alcoholic family instead. She goes to regular poor men's restaurants and says how 'authentic' it is and then they laugh it off, like it's a joke and people are supposed to just make fun of her instead of giving her crazy side eyes and 'gurl, what are you saying' faces of incredulity. That's not even me getting started on how artsy fartsy they're making her out to be. That's not even me getting started on her family. I will judge you to hell if you say to like Toby as a character, even if you just find him hot. Yeah, Lucas Grabeel was a pleasant surprise and I like him, Lucas, I mean, really, because he's a High School Musical alum and, respect to the memories, you know? But Toby is a fucker, and Bay is right up his alley. And their parents are ridiculous.

I have to admit, I kind of ship Kathryn and Regina. And John and Emmett's mom. But that's just, you know. Me. And I don't hardcore ship adults anyways, so back to what I was complaining about.

It's like in their entire dynamic, the Kennish family and Regina and Daphne (and Santana's abuela), someone is always off their game, rendering all the other actors' performances flat, at best, and I can't even tell who this elusive actor is. It's just someone. Not necessarily the same person every scene but just... someone.

So to recap, I hate the Kennish family for being privileged, silver spoon fed assholes, and I hate Daphne for being so oblivious to Emmett (although that's actually the most forgivable offence out of everyone else's because love is dumb, blind and deaf as well, apparently), and I hate Regina for being such a weirdo secret-hoarder. At least tell them at the beginning, oh my God. But I'm very sympathetic to Regina actually, because everyone's ganging up on her and it's not fair what happened to any of them so they really shouldn't gang up on anyone, really. I mean, cut that woman some slack. Her own husband wouldn't believe her (I probably wouldn't have either. That's like one of a lesbian couple getting pregnant and then she's saying, "It's yours," to her partner) and then things went on a downward spiral and life sucked and continues to suck.

I asked a general question at the prefects Form 3 project thing on Thursday, "So... anyone watch Switched at Birth?" and everyone did that really, really rude thing where they just stare at you for a minute before going back to what they were doing as if they hadn't heard the question because obviously none of them do. Well, except for Divyia. She said she likes Emmett. I can't blame her! Despite the fact that he's not exactly the most virtuous guy on television, he's pretty much like a saint in this verse.

I don't know what bothers me so much about all of it. Maybe it's Bay and her non-character character and really grating appreciation of the arts. Maybe it's the fact that everyone's got their own agenda. Most probably it's the fact that the whole switched at birth and deafness premise is still not enough to blanket the fact that it's just another television show, and at the end of the day, couples are going to get shuffled around like decks of playing cards (and really, Bay? Ty and Emmett?) and everyone's drowned in their own sorrows and conspiracies. Television is really disappointing, I learned.

+++

Which brings us to that story I was telling about the sleepover and another thing that's equally as disappointing: people. Nisa put on Switched at Birth. I wasn't really watching because I decided that I had had enough of Switched at Birth after Bay annoyed me with her attitude in that episode where she and Emmett went around, looking for the craziest clues as to who her Dad was (and how great of a climax was it that she met him at that art thing? And he just stared at his guitar pick on her sleeve and said, "Hey, my guitar pick!" "You're my Dad!" "I'm your Dad." Don't quote me on that. That's not word for word) and then I had to find out that she started dating Emmett? That is pure puerile bullshit. I'm not saying I ship Emmett and Daphne, not really, but I'm just saying that they should be together for the sake of endgame. I mean, I know, how groundbreaking a relationship, right, but Bay is a menace to the art society. I get that she and Emmett can be the it artsy couple but she is a flake, a fake and annoying to boot.

But what was I supposed to do? Lie face down on the pillow and pull my hoodie up and stuff my ears with my earphones? Well, I did the last one. We used Hanna's projector again and of course, it was huge and right in front of my very eyes and very, very loud so I caught a bit of dialog here and there. You know. When they were speaking. Here's the disappointing bit.

I never really mind it when someone's opinions differ from mine. I mean, sure, it's great to have a kindred spirit (ah, memories. Like for Born This Way, when Elia and I both skipped school just to watch it and then we ended up calling the other and squealing and downright crying, versus this year when I had to walk on eggshells just so I wouldn't straight up get down on my knees and beg her to tell me what was so special about Blaine 'Not For Sale' Anderson.) but it's not a necessity. And I never really had a problem with people watching the same things and liking the same things that I did. I mean, when I first started watching Glee, I told everyone.

And everyone didn't quite listen.

I know that I couldn't have possibly told everyone. I mean, not like everyone at school. Probably just my closest friends and Nisa started watching it but she's, like, well, she wouldn't exactly not watch a television show. She, afraid of horror and blood and gore, watched the American Horror Story pilot with Hanna and I this morning and said that if she had company, she wouldn't mind following through with the other episodes. But I still felt like I tried to promote it. I still feel like I try to promote things, most of the time, just by liking them and talking about them on a constant basis. I mean, isn't that equivalent to promotion? I don't know. But then it came on television and everyone. Was. A. Gleek.

Come on. That is a bit unfair. I feel like I had the burden of a prophet on a mission, trying to get people (well, okay, my closest friends) to watch it and take interest and then suddenly it airs on television and everyone else started getting their panties in a twist. That's where the whole problem really started for me and that's when I got annoyed whenever someone starts watching a show I've been watching for ages and... comments on it.

I look at behind the scenes stuff. I keep up with spoilers and cast Tweets and I read fanfiction and meta and I write meta and all of that, just for Aly to tell me that she thinks Cameron what's-his-face from the Glee Project sang Blackbird better than Chris did. Well, I judged, Aly. I judged so hard when I Facebook stalked you and found out you liked to listen to 'any type of music' and 'didn't like to read'. But then I met you and thought you were a cool person. Really bookish for someone who doesn't read books, but a cool person nonetheless. And plus, I know a trillion girls who sing Justin Bieber songs better than he does but I don't shove that up your face, now do I?

Well, that was mean. But we have come to the heart of the problem. I really hate it when other people like stuff that I like. Not because I don't like things that are 'mainstream', whatever the heck that word is even used for in current culture, but because I don't believe that an opinion is a valid opinion unless it is a fully formed opinion, in which you have received information from all sides possible.

Which brings us back to the disappointing thing. Hanna and Nisa like Bay and Emmett together. Okay. Nisa... well, I don't really care. She watches the show, she doesn't like Daphne and Regina and every so often, she'd say something about the Vasquez family and while I hate to hear it, I don't mind. Hanna was a bit more disappointing. She didn't even watch any of the previous episodes and she's saying stuff like, "That whole family should just go away already." I get it. You like Bay and Emmett because they're aesthetically pleasing and the whole I love you thing was sweet. And, yeah, even I can admit that I yelled out "Slut!" when Emmett kissed Daphne. But an opinion isn't a valid opinion unless it is a fully formed opinion. And you know how wasteful it is to spend your time listening to invalid opinions. And then I tried to explain why I didn't like Bay, that whole fakey flakey artsy fartsy thing and, plus, Liam, but Hanna didn't listen at all. She was back to her computer by that point. People are very disappointing. Television, too.

+++

A few weeks ago, I found out that Sam was going to come back as a stripper. And I was appalled. That is a terrible story line and I'm not saying that I'm not grateful he's back, I'm not saying that I want Kum or no Sam at all (but it was kind of like, 'just as we were getting used to things', you know?), but that is truly a terrible idea. Who came up with that idea. Please. I would like to know who to blame for my getting stuck in this labyrinth of suffering. And then there was the official straw that broke the camel's back. I mean, really, I've been writing and rewriting my breakup letter for Glee for while now. It's something like this, and I'm going to tell you the whole story.

I liked Klaine for a number of reasons but for the purpose of this post, there was only one reason that really mattered. I was going through a lot of things in my life at that point - Never Been Kissed - and that whole thing with D wasn't really a big thing, really, it was very, very tiny, in comparison to some other things going on with my life. But nevertheless it was part of my life. And, I don't know, I keep seeing all these comparisons, all these contrasts between Klaine and what I was going through in real life. I really also just found them completely adorable. And then something changed after the Christmas episode, after I listened to Baby It's Cold Outside for a thousand times on repeat. It was the start of a new year, for one thing. And D was gone, for another. Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with Klaine. I mean, not like a direct line linking one to the other. But I still felt just weird watching them interact onscreen.

When Original Songs happened, of course I was happy. I was ecstatic. I couldn't stop smiling the whole day. But on the other hand, that was when the story completely broke for me. Kurt wasn't Kurt anymore. He was a baby penguin. Trust me. It was referenced in every single fanfiction I read thereafter. And Klaine weren't Klaine anymore. They were together. They were real. They were something I'm not, something I'm not going to get. I persevered, though. I slogged it through. In it for the long haul. The day that Somewhere Only We Know came out by accident on Glee radio was one of the happiest days of my life in fandom. I played the song over and over again, the original version as well. I hummed it to myself sometimes when I'm bored during duty at school. I did a lot of smiling. And I was happy, content.

And then Prom Queen. I promised myself after Prom Queen that I wouldn't consider myself a Klaine shipper anymore. I was neutral. I was all right with things as long as they didn't seem too far fetched. I begun hovering over the Kum fandom more and more often, wondering whether I should dip my toes in or whether the wound was still too freshly cut. And that's how things remained up until Season 3.

I've been living in a bubble. A bubble of lies. Outside of the bubble, were people who acknowledged and dissected not Glee's shining moments (of which I realized there really weren't any anymore), but everything about the show that was wrong. It was a nice bubble. There were a lot of fanfiction. In fact, I paid more attention to the fanfiction than I did to the actual show. That was why when I heard it, Blaine's a junior this year, the bubble just... popped. Gone. No more fanfiction to protect me from the outside world of serious, important issues surrounding the way Glee chooses to handle its myriad sensitive topics. No more fanfiction because all of those fanfiction were lies. Jossed. Lies.

But I continued, you know, for the sake of Chris. Not Kurt. Not anymore. Not after I Am Unicorn. And the anger kept on building steadily, day by day; anger at the writers for being such shitheads, anger at myself for considering the show shit because the cast are such lovely people and they seem to enjoy, if not the work, each other's company loads, anger at those stupid people who don't know how to argue well. I love arguments, live for it, but if you're going to be that stupid, might as well just keel over and pray.

"Blaine's too good for you," was actually the last straw. It made me rage. It made me raise my eyebrows up and then smash the keyboard and then choke on air for a good fifteen minutes. It made me Unfollow about 32 people, all the Glee blogs, including Ain, Elia and Syairah, people I know and like very well in real life, because I'm putting down my letter of resignation. I am no longer a Gleek. I quit cold turkey.

That never really works, does it, quitting cold turkey? So I decided that, just because of Chris, I'd watch the performances only. Red Solo Cup was a disaster (if only because I couldn't get the song out of my head for the rest of the night - and keep in mind I didn't listen in on First Listens; watching the performances on the show was actually my first time listening in). But other than that, everything else was... better. The colors brighter, the music more melodious, the smile on my face wider. I'm actually enjoying Glee the way I used to because I'm ignoring everything else but the performance and the song. It works for me. I'm just going to be doing this from now on. Also, closing my eyes really, really tight whenever the camera pans up to Blaine too close.

And also die face down on the pillow and pull my hoodie up and stuff my ears with my earphones. That's what I did when Nisa wanted to watch this week's episode, anyways. Blocked out a lot of stuff as well.

+++

"People fall so in love with their pain, they can’t leave it behind. The same as the stories they tell. We trap ourselves." (Chuck Palahniuk)

I spent months trying to stick it out with Glee. It hurt a lot. On the one hand, there were these people who would defend Blaine to the ends of the Earth and each and every fanfiction I've read in the Klaine fandom post-Hold Onto Sixteen, were about justifying Blaine's actions in it (I don't actually know what he did, by the way, other than the fact that he said he's not for sale to Sam, which I caught in a gif set and I promptly fell off my chair in rage). On the other hand, there were these people who have managed to influence me so much, I couldn't even find it in me to smile when I see Darren's face. It's that bad. And it sucks because I don't even know where I stand on the matter and all of that? All of that drove me crazy and over the brink and broke my stupid camel's back and now I'm left with Glee withdrawal and I am happy that I've chosen this path, sure, but it's still dissatisfying to know that I've somehow (someway) abandoned Kurt and his story line.

And I never wanted to do that. Sure, I can talk about this on the Internet with people who actually understand but I don't know why I feel the sudden need to talk about it with someone in real life and have them actually care. People are disappointing. Television shows, even more so.

+++

So I'm mad a lot. Mad at Nisa for saying what she said and then brushing it off like it was nothing. Like I wouldn't get hurt at a throwaway comment. Like I don't have a heart. Mad at the writers of Switched at Birth for failing to bring a very interesting story to life with good dialog and three dimensional characters. Mad at Hanna for forming an opinion on something she had just set her eyes on a few minutes ago. Mad at Glee for ruining my life. And also, mad at my computer for being so slow.

Take heed, friends and fellow travelers, for it is a perilous journey you're about to embark on if you choose to enter a fandom. Not that most of my friends would know. Not that they would ever get to feel the camaraderie, the absolute sense of belonging one gets when one's around one's own kin. Not that they would get it, not quite, because I like things with strings attached. I like them by throwing myself into it, by respecting what and who I like, first and foremost, and by drawing boundaries. By trying to understand and trying to find moral values applicable to real life. Maybe that's why I don't think just any random old person can be called a fan. Because I worked. Because I bled. And because others form an opinion before getting information from all sides possible.

Take heed, if you're not going to give your heart and soul and your everything, if you're not willing to sell your soul to the devil of media, Television, then you're not in the right place. It's not fandom you're after. But if you are ready, if this is what you want, then think it through first because people disappoint. Television is no different.

It's not too late to turn back.

The Misfortunes of Mankind

2011-12-09T12:22:00.003+08:00

I am quite done with being all sad and mopey and despondent, thanks; not because I have a new outlook or anything, not even because I am excited that my sister sent me the e-mail of our ticket order confirmation, but just because I've simply cried it all out of my system. Fun fact before we move on: I wrote 'cried it all out of my sister' at first.

Yesterday, I went to school for that prefect Form 3 project thing. There weren't a lot of people, and let's see if I can remember them all. There was Divya, Santra, Violet, Ashwini, Sabrina, Lissa, me, Divyia, Cassandra, Maha, Marina. And Xi En and Pui Ling and Farhanah. That's it, maybe? They hung the mirror and the hooks for us to hang our blazers when we change (notice I said they because I can neither hammer nor dredge up an ounce of damn). They also hung up boards for us to pin up pictures (and then someone said, "Shouldn't we have put up the pictures before we put up the board?" and then someone said, "Does anyone have any pushpins?").

I sifted through some pictures with Ashwini and Lissa and Sabrina and Divyia to hang on said boards (some other time). Honestly, it reminded me of one of those home decoration shows, only it was a fail, because once again, we all ended up sitting at the table, raising the roof and making a ruckus. I talked to Divyia for the most part and then I went home and that really was an abominable waste of my time but it was sort of fun.

Onto another matter entirely, Nisa made plans with me last week to come over and have a Freaks and Geeks marathon. So I plucked up the pluck and asked my brother whether I could borrow his media player (our everyday conversations generally consist of "Where's Papa?" "Where's Mama?" "Makan."). First it was scheduled on Monday, and then Tuesday, and then Friday and now today is Friday and Nisa said she would be going at around 7 so I woke up at 8 something and started raising hell and high water, calling up Hanna and Nisa who apparently don't take kindly to me calling them. God knows what is up with Nisa's phone, and Hanna told me to leave her alone, she wanted to go back to sleep.

Now it's nearly one in the afternoon and I made the mistake of assuming. It has indeed made an ass of me. I assumed that my mother would still be around and that there was no way she was going to get out of the house as early as eleven something. So after going back to bed, I woke up at nine, the alarm that I set for myself to wake up and tell my mother that I needed her to drive me to Hanna's. But I thought, no, never mind, no way she's going to even be up.

Of course everyone knows how this story ends. Nisa called me up when I woke up at eleven thirty and asked me if I could pick her up to go to Hanna's and I said yes. And then I walked out of the door to find my mother gone. The car gone. My sister, incapable of driving stick. Merde.

We're going to sleepover Hanna's house tonight, I think?

One epic fail after another.

Being Part of Something Special

2011-12-08T22:41:00.001+08:00

By its very definition, glee is about opening yourself up to joy.

Hate is like mercury poisoning. Or something like that. It's something you can't flush out, can't get rid of just by taking the right actions, waving a magic wand, chanting witchy rhymes. It's permanent and it accumulates over time. You might think you love someone you used to hate, but underneath the calm, underneath even the storm, lies the hate. Docile from lack of thought, submissive because it's been beaten down by something like love. Like, how can anything beat love?

But love fades. Hate is like mercury poisoning.

So I'm not surprised when I see a flicker of it across your features, just a flicker, roll of the eye, twitch of the brow and upturn of the mouth. I'm not surprised because no matter what's buried and what's water, under bridges, can be dredged back up, was never gone in the first place. Hate is accumulative, and it stays. So I'm not going to expect my hate for her to disappear, even though I wrongfully and naively thought it would before. It doesn't matter how I 'loved' you, love is a tense waiting to be turned, present to past. Hate stays.

Hate is what can cross a feature, more fleeting than love can, more distinct.

I don't want to say goodbye, I think. I think I never want to, because saying goodbye means admitting that all those bitter, world-weary losers were right. You're living proof that a loser can be a right. Living proof that someone who wanted to win it all can, at the end of the day, fall from ungrace and embrace a loser's idea. No, I don't want to say goodbye, even if I look at her and see nothing but the past.

What you're looking for is the past and you're not going to find it with me. I shed them off last year, I got rid of anything that wasn't hate. I can only manage to care just a little bit more. What you're looking for has left. Left you. I don't want to say goodbye but every friendship has its expiration date. Every single one.

Only a non-friendship doesn't have one.

I don't want to say goodbye if it means having to distance myself from one of the only source of comfort I have. It's stupid, asinine; it doesn't contribute. (Isn't kind, isn't necessary, doesn't fill the silence.) But what choice do I have? It was the biggest sacrifice I ever carried out, a whole entire year dependent on one bright ray of sunshine, living the lives of people who can afford to live those lives. But it would hurt more if I kept doing this. Being part of something special, made me special.

After this, he's leaving. After this you don't have to worry about a breakup letter. After this, the world.

+

Friendship is sacrifice. And we've all sacrificed a lot. I sacrificed my sanity and my principles to be friends with these people. I sacrificed my view of the world to be friends with some other people. I sacrificed my pride, and my time, and my tears. They sacrificed a lot to. I sacrificed a lot more than that for a television show that didn't repay me in kindness, in necessity, in filling the silence. And them, the shining stars blanketing Tinseltown, they had made sacrifices as well.

But sacrifice, as we all learn sooner or later, only counts in blood.

+

I'm never saying goodbye to you, until he has to.

Real Life

2011-12-07T19:45:00.002+08:00

I remember last year, December fourth, I went out for my very first Tumblr meetup ever, and, at a lost for what to wear, I shrugged on my Only Pair of Jeans and my favorite sweater that shed hair on any and all black surfaces and pulled my hair up. This year, December fourth, I woke up feeling like I had something I needed to do and after getting it done (it being wishing Mei a happy birthday), I decided to go out. So I thought long and hard about the 'look' I wanted to go for that day and came up with: fluffy, over-bundled blanket of whiteness.

I put on my white pants, an overlarge cardigan from Zara (its pockets located at thigh-length), and my favorite sweater that shed hair on any and all black surfaces.

This is irrelevant, though.

+++

Things have been going smoothly on my end. I've been doing a lot of 'getting things to go the way I want them to go' lately, which was a sudden epic boom and has been steadily rising ever since that night I cried my eyes out and my Dad told me off for crying, saying, "You can't always get what you want." Maybe it's been a long time coming or something, but I snapped a bit that night and finally told myself that I was getting everything I want.

Everything. All of it. And more.

And no one was going to stop me.

Since then, the crazy energy behind it has subsided some but I still feel all prickly whenever I start thinking of 'you can't always get what you want' and 'you're mean, selfish and self-centered and you don't even realize it'. I start thinking of thoughts like 'those who say that (you can't always get what you want) just didn't try hard enough'. Didn't want it hard enough. Didn't work hard enough. Didn't bleed hard enough.

So it gets kind of messy from there on out. I mean, I knew that it was going to be hard going, actually reaching out for something and wanting something and working towards it, but I am working towards a million and one things at once right now that it just kind of feels like a cop-out. Like I'm going to fail at, if not all, at least one of these things.

But the hard part doesn't really come from the fact that you have put in the effort. It more or less stems from watching other people at the bottom (used, tools, see you soon if I ever I need you again soon) while you've stepped over them to get to the top, to get what you want.

+++

Sometimes I dream about next year and what it would be like if I were in a class full of people I hated beyond a shadow of a doubt and yet am forced to socially and intellectually interact with on a day to day basis. Them, with their groups of fours, with their circle, their dominion of friends, lorded over, voices fighting for a chance to speak. School, class, the prefect board: it's their domain. Theirs to lord over. And where am I in this scenario, with no Nisa, no Hanna, no person willing to look and to repeat what they said in a moment of weakness? And would I just be that girl, at the back of the labs, sitting a little way further off than most clustered groups of fours and circles?

I wonder sometimes. And then I know that that's not going to happen. I've fought tooth and nail to survive this far. I'm not going to back down and become an antisocial now. I've fought so hard so far just to make sure I'm never alone or lonely, even at the expense of others, even at the expense of myself. So I know that if I end up in a class with people I don't like, don't want to like in a million years, I'll still force myself in, integrate myself in, find someone or something to hold onto. Like a Nisa maybe. Or a Hanna. Or a Thivyaa.

(Used, tools, see you soon if I ever need you again soon.)

And another year as that girl with the prayer circles, the waffles and start-stop-start unprepared speech snowballed from years of frustration and nightmares and dreams, defending someone who has a right to be defended because she can't defend herself.

+++

Coincidences in the fabric of space and time. Coincidences between here and now and a past life. All of it, irrelevant and scared.

Resemblance

2011-12-04T10:24:00.002+08:00

There's so many people in the world who can draw such beautiful stuff, it makes me cry. I also cried the other day when I watched Peter Pan and they were all like, "I do believe in fairies," and I was full out sobbing on the rocking chair, clutching a pillow and occasionally wiping my tears away with the corner of said pillow. Surprisingly, other than these two insulated incidents, I have not been crying all that much, nor have I gotten particularly teary eyed at random things, as I am generally wont to do. So maybe to pile the blame on hormones would be a tad unfair of me. Or maybe it's not and it's all those wretched hormones' fault.

I have compiled a list of things I want because of reasons.

An Asus Transformer, which I have worked tooth and nail to get, so I better have it by the end of the year.
To watch Wicked with my sister in Singapore. I know it's not, well, it's not going to be Wicked Wicked, but I'll take whatever scraps I have scavenged for and can get, thank you very much. Slight complications on how I am to actually get to Singapore, but with the right amount of begging and brown nosing on my part (isn't that always the tale), it'll hopefully be resolved quick as a flash.
A gray British shorthair cat because they seem to represent my soul and inner spirit animal. Sadly I'm never going to get one with Fluffy still alive because my Dad has a strict one cat only rule which my mother and I have bypassed so many times but we always, always had to learn, at the end of the day, that we really are incapable of taking care of two cats. Heck, I am incapable of taking care of one cat. Plus, cat food is very expensive and we are feeding a family of now seven individuals (plus our maid, which makes it eight).
This isn't like a thing or anything like that. I mean, it's not an object that can be bought or even a ticket to an event. It's just that I'm really hoping to be able to finish my list of things to do in the holidays before the holidays actually end and I know that the probability of my finishing it off completely is slim to none because I haven't been all that keen to rewatch Doctor Who ever since my computer decided to restart itself every few hours.
To register for Pottercon which takes money which I happen to have but I'd rather my parents pay for it so it's a birthday present, hopefully.
One of those Harry Potter box set things with all eight of the movies because seriously, I need to get in touch with my inner Potterhead. My friends, who have been in fandom for such a short time, are making me look bad.
This shirt. Or this shirt, I've always wanted this shirt, too.
A new pencil box and that wallet I saw at that shop I went into once (unrelated things).

See. It's not much. I didn't even mention improbable things like going to Wizarding World (of which there will now be two) or meet Chris Colfer or J.K. Rowling or anything out there like that. Now, here's a few pictures of British shorthair cats.

They very clearly bear a resemblance to me.

Very, very clearly.

It's uncanny.

My day started at 6.45 today, despite ending at three something in the morning, so excuse anything odd or un-me in this post because that's just the semi-insomnia talking. I get that the layout is girly beyond anything I've ever girled up for this blog before, but bear with me. I'm going through some emotional times, and I would like to give credit where credit is due and exactly where that credit is due would happen to be my uterus.

We're reading Haunted for book club. I've read it before, borrowed from a friend of a friend (of a friend, perhaps?). So I'm contemplating whether I should just suck it (and by it, I meant the money) or buy a copy or just read something very easily downloadable from 4shared (Torrent is busy with some movies). It's a devastating decision, really. Sophie's choice. But I have to say, Ellie did say something about a glow in the dark cover and if I get my hands on one of those, then I would consider the decision already made for me by the universe.

'N Roll

2011-12-01T13:58:00.002+08:00

Finally, we're at the end of the journey and possibly at the beginning of another one (a storm's coming) and let me just say that it has been an exhausting, if not entertaining, journey, from start to finish. I laughed, and cried, and was pushed to the brink time and time again, yet I felt happiness to the point of bursting, and you can't just walk away from any ol' experience having felt all of those feelings. This one's for keeps.

I will say this, though, as a conclusion. I didn't ask for any of this. I neither asked to be the way that I am today, nor did I ask for these friends of mine. It all came to me, unbidden and unthought of, and the only thing I ever asked for, I got, but not quite in the way I had expected. So last year, it was the Evolution and the Revelation (sometimes referred to as the Revolution). As the embers of hope surrounding this year's situation dies down, so does any last teeny tiny shred of whatever I had left for the Revelation depart as well. And it was nothing but a joyous occasion, and there never will be a moment in which I look back and think, "I regret doing all of those things," because as much as I wish the outcome was different, I can't exactly wish to not be in this exact position at this exact time.

But that won't stop me from pining. And that's why I did this, In Mortal Memory, as a reminder to myself that I had given myself twelve posts. Twelve posts to reflect, to mourn, to remember. There is no going back after this because regardless of how much I want things to stay the same, to stay static, it's not possible. It's not going to happen. We've grown. We're different people than we were a few weeks ago. And I'm not going to turn my back on what I have now to go looking for buried treasures in my past. The past, and its events, stay buried. That is the rules.

So in mortal, living memory of someone special, I dedicated twelve posts.

In mortal memory of someone who used to be special, I let go.

An Exclamation Post

2011-11-30T12:41:00.002+08:00

Yesterday, I got Hanna to watch West Side Story because I still have it on my computer from the last time I downloaded it for a day-long movie marathon. I didn't delete it (like the other movies) because it took the longest time to download and just felt like such a... waste. So I told Hanna straight up that she'd be screaming at the end. Hey, what d'you know?, she screamed at the end.

So she slept over last night and it was a lot of doing nothing coupled with watching West Side Story and attempting to watch AVPM (she hasn't watched it yet. The download was being far too slow and don't even get me started on YouTube. Anyways, I don't think it's for her, since she doesn't seem to have an innate love for musicals and also, I just don't think it's her type of humor) (more for me, then). We also talked about things that I really would like to mention but I'm afraid it might do damage to our reputations. Of which there isn't much (mine, at least), but it's never wise to deliberately destroy a reputation that hasn't even had the chance to get up off its feet yet. Or, who knows, maybe it has one foot. Singular.

"I don't think I could ever do roleplay. I mean, what if I'm just like in the middle of it and then suddenly, it's like, 'Wait. I read a fanfiction about this once'?"

We actually had a good enough time yesterday. We went to Toys R Us and got baby food (for us) and when I told my mother about this, she said, "You eat baby food? No wonder you act like a baby." And that shall be presented without comment.

I've been having a good couple of days lately. I mean, I wouldn't call feeling out of the loop and out of this world hungry all the time good, nor am I particularly inclined to commend my computer for being the slowest piece of junk to ever be called a revolution in technology (I'm guessing that that was ages ago). But I'm looking at this from the bigger picture.

I have some things lined up for December that I think I'm very excited to delve into. Fingers crossed that all my plans pan out beautifully. On the other end of my life, the virtual end, there has been other developments, the most notable of which is my second time win for NaNoWriMo, which is shit if you want to spell it properly with the proper capitalization. I am cheering on all of my fellow authors. But just so we're clear, this is not what I wrote on the actual printed version of the certificate.

Currently watching AVPM which I downloaded overnight! (Delving back into Starkid is on my list!)

Do I Get Off?

2011-11-27T21:49:00.001+08:00

"Do you get off on being selfish?"

Thursdays child has far to go:

Well, back to the ol' post-writing format, in which I post about several days at once and use lines from songs or whatever related to the days. Like this. One day, I'll tire of this format (and another day, I'll finally run out of lines for certain days) and it'll change. Day's not today, though. Thursday was Thanksgiving, which I obviously do not celebrate, and hilariously enough the people who actually do celebrate it do it when it's already Friday here, but as usual, it's the principle of the thing.

So I'm grateful for a roof over my head, people to make me not feel lonely (my cat, especially), the Internet, Chris Colfer's existence, and my sister giving me full permission to take advantage of her Xena: Warrior Princess collection. All of the seasons. Also thankful for her owning it in the first place. Also thankful Easy A is on television right now. Other than that, I think I spent the day whiling away the hours. Those were the good times, don't worry. It's a downward spiral from there.

Fridays child is loving and giving:

Hanna informed me that the Teen Vogue edition with Chris in it is available at Book Xcess. After some initial confusion, I found and purchased it in glee. And then I browsed around and completed the book list I'm supposed to make for the book club to choose from next month. Overall, it was your typical day. So I guess I was wrong. This was also the good times. It's definitely a downward spiral after this, though.

Saturdays child works hard for his living:

Not that I consider getting to meet up with Ellie, Michelle and Mei part of the downward spiral. Hanna was forcefully dragged along (somewhat against her will - but she was rewarded greatly with haikus of my own writing) and Mei thought she was my sister. She said we had the same eyebrows. Michelle's quiet but I get that whole introverted, crippling anxiety for awkward social situations thing and totally didn't think she was being proud or anything. All of that was great. We had a costly lunch, went to the bookshop like the nerdy hipsters we tell ourselves we are and Mei went to Cold Storage to buy an ice-cream. Hanna and I got candy, which I think is only marginally better, the key word being better. All of the pictures came out fine with a side of unflattering me, so I could just blur or black out my face or something but I'm short of patience at the moment.

Michelle's owl; another thing I'm thankful for.

Another night, another spiral.

And the child that is born on Sabbath day, is bonny and blithe, and good and gay:

I went to the Big Bad Wolf Aftermath sale which kind of sucked but was exactly how I expected it to be. Sucky. I went with my dad and niece and my dad was hilarious: he bought all the biggest and thickest books he could find (really weird ones, too - I asked him whether he was going to read it and he said he had no idea what to actually do with them) because hell, with everything under five bucks, it was basically a steal (don't worry. Big Bad Wolf's paying me to say all this.) and he even bought a Blackberry for Dummies book for my mother.

I've also been reading Khaos Komix because I couldn't get proper shut eye Saturday night/Sunday morning, so I raided my Bookmarks folder and found this from a few months ago. If you don't mind the gay, Google it and read up. Loving it a lot because I've basically found myself attracted to every single ship in it.

Another night, another spiral. The storm's coming.

"Nope. I get off on not feeling anything at all."

If People Were Rain

2011-11-26T23:42:00.001+08:00

Nisa: Hey, I've got the same shoes! Giant, right?

Keer: Uh... no. Crocs.

Hanna: I bet she just picked up the phone, "Oh, not my daughter!" and put it down.

Xueh Wei: Yeah, yeah, like... "Hello?" "Kidnapper"!

Nisa's mother: So who are you going out with?

Nisa: There's Hafizah, Hanna and Xueh Wei.

Nisa's mother: What's Xueh Wei?

Nisa: She's... Chinese?

Nisa's mother: ... no, I meant, is she a prefect?

Sometimes, there's fun and laughter.

Sometimes there's this. I can't stop thinking and I can't stop... running conversations and events over in my head and in the end, I end up falling asleep at 4 in the morning and wake up at 11 and... it's not. Nice. It's not nice.

A Cry For Help

2011-11-25T13:44:00.001+08:00

Don't think I don't know what you say. Don't think I don't understand your 'cryptic messages'. Don't think I don't know that you're talking about me. Don't think I'm not hurt. Don't think I don't have a heart. Don't think I'm not fully aware of everything I am. Don't think I don't struggle with it. Don't think I'm any less lonely than you are. You don't think.

Don't think it took him twenty-five times to realize that it's not an act.

Having Says

2011-11-24T12:51:00.001+08:00

I am actually in a good mood today so that's a rarity. I woke up earlier than expected: twelve thirty. The entire morning, I was having a battle with Megavideo. It would load up until a certain point and then the progress bar would just zoom to completion and I wouldn't be able to play anything past that point. It makes me sad. It makes me feel like when I get my first credit card, one of the first things I'm going to do is get myself a premium account. And then that just makes me feel cheated, like the unintelligent, unthinking consumer I truly am. So that made me sad. But only in the morning, though. And forgive me if my idea of morning is twelve o'clock until sometime around three.

It must be because I slept comparatively early yesterday, at around one, because I was also facing trouble with Megavideo. And not just that stupid site. Zshare and VideoWeed as well. If there was no such thing as Internet, I wonder how my life would be like right now? I would probably be a less precocious child. Also, I would not have a blog and I would not be writing all of this down. Weird.

Anyways, what I was getting to is that I've been in a fairly happy mood today and that in itself is weird. I guess what I needed was a surprise to pop out of the bushes and scare me a little bit to realize exactly where I stand on the matter. And as to what matter that is, I'm not going to tell you because people read this blog, scary and obnoxious as that sounds. But back to that matter and what I was saying was that I now know where I stand and I now know exactly how I feel about the entire situation. And that is nothing. I feel absolutely nothing for the entire situation. And I get that it's not sunk in yet, and I also get that I fancy myself quite the pessimist (or realist, really), but whatever it is, at the moment, I'm pretty much just okay.

Actually, at the moment, I feel like a brain floating around in a jar. That's something new. After feeling like all of my friends have trodden on me like big, giant insects all this while, feeling like a brain suspended in unknown matter in a jar... isn't all that bad, I've got to say. So that's your daily update on my life.

As to what I've actually been up to, it's hard to say. I created a list, after all, and on top of the list are the words "short term goals (so that I can't just sit around, saying to myself, "I'm bored")" but here I am, sitting around and saying to myself that I'm bored. Mostly it's because Megavideo is being a bitch. And the massive Torrent I'm downloading is making every single thing I do on this computer something like fifty percent slower. So I was pleasantly surprised (well, not really surprised, just... it was just a pleasant feeling) to find out that on my Dad's laptop, everything is super fast. So now I will spend my nights watching stuff on Megavideo and my mornings... doing other things. Like, I don't know. I don't really know what on my list I can actually do. That's why my schedule's booked with social interactions on both Friday and Saturday.

It's a wonder I managed to write 70,000+ words for my Nanowrimo when I've written an entire post about what I have not been doing. Shocked, really.

And this is what I call a whimsical post.

Space (Look At All You've Given Me)

2011-11-23T13:36:00.001+08:00

I wonder why there's been an abundance of sad posts on my blog recently. I mean, all things considered, I am not perpetually sad. I mean, sure I wake up sticky and sweating every morning and that's not the best start to a day. Sure, I still get random bouts of anger and nostalgia and worst of all, creys, and that's not the best way to spend even a single second of my day. But otherwise? Other than the fact that I've got the friends that I've got? Other than the fact that the only person who's talking to me so far is Hanna and Helena? Other than the fact that I am Ross-and-Racheling several relationships at once? Other than all of that?

I'm whimsical.

I've been cleaning up my room, cleaning up my iTunes library, talking to people I want to talk to (and also people I don't want to talk to, but there's nothing I can really do there), going on my massive Doctor Who rewatch marathon (starting from the ninth Doctor but it's still huge and Torrent won't cooperate), reading books and fanfiction, playing with my cat, and thinking. I'd like to do less of that last one, if possible, because I've done enough thinking to last me a life time and if everyone's secret intent was to get me to thinking about my actions and 'the type of person that I am', then congratulations, you've succeeded.

And I've come to the same conclusion, several times over. I mean, look. Look at all the SPACE you've given me.

But, of course, we're not going there. Oh, no. This is a whimsical post.

(Maybe I should start telling some else about my problems. God knows Helena alone can't handle it, she's as good at giving advice as my sister is - which is not very good at all. Maybe it's time to burden someone else but can I do that, really? I mean, Hel owes me. We've both agreed to that fact a long, long time ago and she'll continue owing me until the day that either one of us dies. No one else does. And plus, no one else quite understands or will understand the full story and then I'll have to start from the beginning and how tedious, really. But it's gotten to the point wherein I start to look at things and realize how ridiculous they are. I can no longer do this, whatever weird sort of limbo this is, anymore than I could have done that other thing. Honestly, I love being ambiguous as much as the next person but like I said, the levels of ridiculousness have risen to an uncomfortable point. But whimsy.)

Um, right. Whimsy. Well, Michelle is here! And. Well, I really miss Rose Tyler. But that's not... whimsical. Well, you know what, whatever, I don't have to prove to anyone exactly how whimsical my life is. It's not going to make much of a difference. I like what I've been doing with my holidays so far even if I haven't set foot outside of the house and I have no clue what day it is today. I'm happy enough to comfort those who are, like, really in need of it, instead of me, who's only unhappy because of situations I created myself. I'm happy enough to tell myself at midnight to stop being so happy. I'm happy and I know how to make myself happy and for right now, that's quite enough.

Maybe I'll go and watch more musicals to remind myself that a) happy endings exist in musicals, b) in the case of some musicals, happy endings do not exist at all, and that, too, is fine because the protagonist or hero or heroine will just move on as the credits roll, and c) everything is better when it's sung.

(Sadly, watch musicals isn't on my list. And here's some advice for some of my sad friends - because God knows I have plenty of those. Make a list like I've made on my private blog listing out all the things you want accomplished before the New Year or whenever and just stick to the list and don't do anything else. For example, everything that I told you I've been up to is on that list, except for thinking, and that is why I want to think less, especially during this whimsical holiday of mine.)

And If You're Partial to the Night Sky

2011-11-21T13:39:00.001+08:00

I'm in a nostalgic mood today (which seems to be my default setting for the past few days so no surprise there) so it's been episode after episode of a Doctor Who rewatch and going through my old books. I know I've read a lot of books. I feel as if I've read a lot of books. But the strange thing is that I just can't seem to find any of them. My favorites, I mean. There's only a handful of books that I even remember reading and a bunch that I distinctly remember not getting around to reading yet and then the rest is just one big question mark. I think I have somewhere around forty to fifty percent of the books I've bought and something like thirty percent of the books I've read, the rest having been obtained from friends, libraries and read online.

Since I'm already feeling like this anyways and both VideoWeed and Megavideo are being a pain in the ass, I thought I'd make a post listing some of my favorite books from my nine till twelve years. It was on and off fantasy, a little bit of "grown-up" books (which basically means chick lit with some sex scenes scattered in it), and a steady stream of contemporary young adult books which were truly, truly young adult. But those were the good years, as they say.

15. My Desperate Love Diary by Kelly Ann (Liz Rettig)

A lot of people bought this book when I was in Standard 5, maybe 6, because of its pretty cover and I'll admit, that's why I bought it, too, but it's actually a really good book, in the vein of Princess Diaries and Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging. More like the latter, because it's English. Funny, cute, very, very light read. I've always wanted to read the sequel but couldn't find it anywhere.

14. Click (a lot of people, including Eoin Colfer, Nick Hornby, Roddy Doyle, Gregory Maguire)

It's something like one story, written by ten people and I remember thinking it was a brilliant book but I can't remember a single thing about it at the moment, so of course this calls for a reread! A lot of people asked me to lend the book, but I don't think I ever got around to doing that because everyone just forgot. I remember hating the final chapter, though, because it was too freaky.

13. Dragon's Rock (Tim Bowler)

Another book I can't remember a single line of. I do remember reading it while I was at my grandparents' and it was raining and it rained a lot in the book or something like that. It was a really spooky story. I think I got nightmares from it for several nights. At the time, I really, really loved this book and the only reason it's not lower on the list is because I honestly just can't remember a single thing.

12. The Princess School series (Jane B. Mason and Sarah Hines Stephens)

This one's a bit embarrassing, actually, but come on! I loved The Princess School even though I was what? Eleven? Twelve? Whatever. I always saw these books on those Scholastic catalogs they send to schools and I'd buy them every single time. Basically, it's Cinderella, Snow White, Rapunzel and Briar Rose all going to a Princess School and if that's not enough, there's also a neighboring school for princes as well. The story goes like the fairy tales do: Cinderella going to a ball, Snow and her stepmother having a 'fairest of them all' contest, Rapunzel and Gothel, and I can't remember what else. But it was seriously a fun read.

11. Inkheart (Cornelia Funke)

I love this book and the quotes before each chapter and the description of the library and everything about it. The movie sucked. The end. (Regretfully, I have yet to read the later installments in the series.)

10. Princess Diaries series (Meg Cabot)

I went on a bit of a Princess stage, if that's not obvious enough. But I don't really see any reason for someone to not like the Princess Diaries. It's funny, it's feelgood, it's got romance and a little bit of mystery, I guess, but mostly it's just a bucket of laughs and it's my go-to set of books for flights. My favorite's Forever Princess, the tenth one, because it was really nice to see Mia get her happily ever after, and really, I just wanted to include just that one book in the list but I read that in Form 2.

9. Ophelia (Lisa Klein)

Another book that I can't quite remember reading, but I remember liking it so much I read it a few times. And then a friend of mine borrowed it for a year and when I got it back I read it a couple more times again. You'd think I'd remember whether it was good or bad but I can't. It's probably crap if I read it now but I think I owe it to this book for introducing me to the world of Shakespeare because I started reading Hamlet after this. The book's about Ophelia, that crazy girl in Hamlet, and it's just basically the entire story from her perspective, which seems kind of boring now that I compare it to Hamlet.

8. Midnight (Jacqueline Wilson)

Midnight's my absolute favorite book of Jacqueline Wilson's, but it's not the only book of hers on this list and it sits higher up for some reason. I love the illustrations, I love her meeting Casper Dream and realizing he's just a big fat man and I love all the revelations that went on at her house but I especially love her doll tree thing. I don't know, I can't remember most of it, obviously, but I've long since decided that this is my favorite Jacqueline Wilson book (and I've read many) and it also happens to be the first book of hers that I've read so if you've read a little Jacqueline Wilson but you haven't read Midnight, then you're missing out.

7. The Lightning Thief (Rick Riordan)

I remember reading this book and loving it and then forgetting all about it until a few years later. Anyways, this was my favorite in the series mainly because everything felt so new and fresh and I remember hating the first few chapters, before he got to the camp, but then I ended up loving the book so much because of all the pit stops they went to along the way. The movie was horrendous and the fact that people started to get into the series sometime around the release of the movie, when it was hyped within an inch of its life, is an insult to young adult literature.

6. Uglies trilogy (Scott Westerfeld)

I've read my fair share of YA dystopian novels but Uglies takes the cake. It kind of went downhill after the first book and I keep mixing it all up with The Hunger Games in my head now but I actually, literally love everything about the series and I'm so sad that I lost the first book. Everyone who's never read it should.

5. The Luxe series (Anna Godbersen)

I'm not ecstatic that she decided to write something similar but in the set in the '20s or something like that but I'd be straight up lying if I admitted to not loving the ever living crap out of The Luxe series. It's Gossip Girl in the 1800s but it's so much better than Gossip Girl because at least these people have a reason to be acting like whiny douchebags. Not much of a reason, but still. It's just such clever, clever, carefully woven plots that make me want to cry after every book.

4. Kiss (Jacqueline Wilson)

I beg of you, please go out right this instance and buy this book. It's the first time I was exposed to a gay character so it was something new for me, at the time, and then later on, like sometime around last year, when I got around to rereading it, it just makes me want to cry and cry and listen to sad sappy songs and eat my way through several cans of Pringles because it's such a lovely story and I love every single character in it, even the douches.

3. Matilda (Roald Dahl)

Matilda's the first real book I've read. I mean, before that, I was just reading those Enid Blyton book for kids and I know this is way, way earlier than the nine to twelve years of my life, but if I hadn't read Matilda, I probably wouldn't have wanted to read anymore books. I probably wouldn't have gone out and started reading all those novels with bright covers meant for young adults. I probably wouldn't have bought Harry Potter. So I owe a lot to Matilda. Also, she taught me what a limerick was.

2. The Candy Darlings (Chritine Walde)

A lot of people didn't like the book because of the main character and while I agree that she does have some Bella Swan tendencies and she's as big of a bitch as every other girl in the book, it was still an awesome book. I think I fell in love with it a little, just a little, because I thought it was going to be a normal young adult book but it really, really wasn't. It was creepy as hell and perverted in every way possible and best of all, it was all about candy. So I don't know about anyone else, but looking back, this was one of the few books that to this day, I still consider one of the tops of my favorites list. Read it. And weep at the brilliance.

1. The Seer and the Sword (Victoria Hanley)

I don't actually know why I love this book so much, I just do. Literally, if someone asked me what my favorite book was, I would have answered with this. Now that I've read more genres, it's a little difficult to say, so I'll just probably go with my standard (and completely not boring) answer of Harry Potter but I used to say that this was my favorite all the time and in a way, it still is. I just don't know why but it is. If you like all that kings and castles stuff and don't mind a completely PG book, then you should really read this, and Victoria Hanley's other books (Healer's Keep, Light of the Oracle).

So that's my walk down memory lane for the day. Basically, to those reading this who likes to read, I highly recommend Kiss, The Candy Darlings and The Seer and the Sword just because I can.

Methinks it's been too long since I've pulled an all-nighter for no apparent reason. So tonight's the night, I hope, because I want to get started on the Hitchhiker's trilogy and finish it up as soon as possible. See you on the other side of the sun!