rock bottom

Magazines have always been a source of guilt for me.

The first magazine i ever forked out money for was an issue of Malaysian Seventeen,i think, somewhere in form 2. I'd usually buy it once in a while, if i happened to go out with friends during pulang bermalam from school. Then, it moved on to Cleo(honestly, i think Seventeen, despite it's name, actually caters to tweens and young teenagers. By the time you're seventeen you'd have move on to Cleo). So yeah, i bought some issues of Cleo. but then i stopped, since i figured it wasn't doing me any good. a lot of pages, especially the make-up and cosmetics pages went unread, because i for one don't use make-up, and i hardly use cosmetics(is facial cleanser a cosmetic?). and even if it was nice to browse through the fashion and trends section, it's not as if i had the money to follow up and buy the clothes they promoted, could i? So whenever i buy a copy of Cleo, i feel guilty because the 6 ringgit i spent on it could have been used to pay three days worth of college parking tickets.

Gossip mags like Hot are very entertaining. But it makes me feel guilty everytime i buy it because i'd be funding the work of papparazzi, who are possibly the scums of the earth, and also because every time i buy it, the voice in my head would go 'well,this is very...bimbo-headed of you, isn't it?'.

I've never bought Time or The Economist, because dad subscribes to it, so i can just tumpang sekaki and read his copy. And though some of the articles in them can be interesting, and i should read these magazines because they are chock-full of information and general knowledge that will make me a 'mature,intelligent and aware civillian of modern society', sometimes, they can be freaking boring, and that's the absolute truth(for me anyways). and that makes me guilty, because i SHOULD be a fan of those magazines and read every issue ardently. but i'm not. half of the articles go unread. damn.

so magazines equate guilt for me. But all that has changed. well, at least, to some extent. because you see, a few days ago i bought my first ever copy of a music magazine. Rollingstone, 31st May issue. RM20.90. A ridiculous amount, if you think about it, because that figure could buy me an Agatha Christie book. But oh, it was worth it. every single penny. I devoured practically every article, every interview, every music review the magazine offered. Terrific. It took me as much time to read it as i would a book.

even though it's more expensive than the average local magazine, i still think it was worth it. Now i see why my friends Bo Eui and Hani are willing to spend so much on fashion magazines. (we're talking about 70 ringgit for a MAGAZINE). i guess When you're interested in something, it becomes worth spending the extra amount on. They really are passionate when it comes to fashion. I'm not talking bout mags like Cosmo or Glamour ke ape. this is hardcore stuff, Italian Vogue, and magazines i can't even remember what are their names.

Well, i don't think i can afford to spend 70 bucks on a magazine, but i am definitely buying some more music mags. maybe i'll try Spin, or Q after this. I'm sorry all previous genres of magazines i've read, but i don't think i'll be reading you anymore.

swear words.

i don't understand people who attempt some sort of censorship when typing profanities and instead type this:

f*ck. or b*tch. or fcuk.

there's just no point in doing that. unless we're very dimm-minded, it is most likely that we're going to understand what you really meant to type. that just defeats the purpose. so might as well use proper spelling, ey?

ok. soul-searching moment of the day. here's the deal. the absolute truth is this: i sometimes see myself as pretentious. i tend to expect too much from the people around me, and when they don't live up to these incredibly high standards i have, i tend to retreat into this dark hole where i stay most of the time. once in a while, i look at myself, and think, 'the person i am when i'm alone is different from the person i am when i'm in front of people'. and i am shit-scared to talk to anyone, tell them about this and ask them their opinion, because i am shit-scared that they will look down on me. that they'll think they are holier-wiser-better than me.

i'm trying to find rock bottom. i'm am trying to start fresh. i am trying to be 'me'(whoever that is), without giving so much thought to what other people might think.

so:

hi. my name's atiqah.
i'm 18 going on 19.
i have a tendency to be overemotional, but i'm trying to overcome that.
i don't say fuck to people, but i do say it to myself when i'm angry or frustrated.
i don't wear a tudung, and i still tend to oversleep and miss subuh, but i'm trying to be a better muslim.
i am quite bad at meeting new people, and i tend to be all awkward, but please don't think i'd purposely try to snub you or wouldn't want to be your friend. if i had it my way and could control things, i'd give you the biggest grin and somehow say something that we could both laugh about.
i am very insecure about my looks, but at times i can be very vain, without having any reason to be.
i can be very enthusiastic and expressive about certain things, and i like music.

and usually i'd worry about being too whiny on my blog, but that's just membazir masa. it's my blog, and therefore i have the prerogative to be as whiny as i want on it. that's half the reason why blogs are so popular these days, aren't they?if you find my incessant whinying and self-pitying rants distasteful, you have every right to stop reading and move on to greener pastures on cyberspace.

this feels good. hello, ayang.