There was this one time I was sad, and I ended up blogging about three things that make me happy.
As of now, three things that make me happy:
1. Dipping a cookie into cold, cold milk, popping it into my mouth, and getting that perfectly divine ratio of crisp cookie to soggy milk-soaked morsel.
2. Being with someone and realizing that I am thoroughly enjoying their company.
3. Making my family laugh.
The last time I did this, I asked(more like, begged.coerced. Manipulated) you to do the same. Do you remember? You were kind enough to oblige my ridiculous request.
1.
woot woot!!What makes me happy is knowing my friend has my back and still cares about me(You are one of them my dear Ateqs)
2.going back to Malaysia for know(almost 1 year)..
3.and knowing others are makes me happy as well:)
2.
Lets see, well for me I guess it changes, but here are some of them.
1. Kids. There is just something about their innocence that just tugs my heartstrings. They never fail to make me smile stupidly, and at times go "where do I get me one of those!" (up until the point where they get bratty and hyperactive and start screaming senseless). But nowadays we can't stare at them too long for fear of being caught as pedophiles.
2. Bookstores. This one never fails to make me happy. Especially the large ones with high bookcases covering every inch of the wall.
3. Random but meaningful conversation with strangers. I don't get this very often, but when I do it lights up my day.
3.
I like:
1) receiving long letters/emails
2) lazing on the grass in a park on a brilliantly-blue-sky day
3) when a good song unexpectedly comes on the radio and i can loudly sing along to it
4.
let's see.. 3 things that make me happy:
1. personal achievements. who wouldn't be right ;p
2. a good time with friends, new or old. it doesn't matter whether we were close before or not.
3. playing videogames. hahaha.
5.
Yo Atiqah babeh, haha :) 3 things that make me happy:
1. receiving kad raya.
2. knowing that I have great friends.
3. mary poppins.
6.
ateqs! here's what i owe you.
the things that makes me happy huh? hmm, i have a lot but this are the ones that i could actually mention it here. heh.
1. currently i finished watching this one anime called ouran high school host club. and i laughed like crazy. of course, i watched it alone in my room. no other cartoon had ever make me laugh like that. nor anyone or anything before. haha.
2. blues skies and sunsets (they are of one categories heh). i know this is kind of random and cm jiwang. but i dont know. i just feel enlighten staring at them.
3. the aftermath of cleaning kitchen or toilet or my bedroom. it makes me kind of satisfied when everything smells great and looks sleek.
7.
im in there! :O here you go, since my blog's on a hiatus now haha.
1. sleeping on the monkey bars in my area's playground. no, really, i do that :P and i don't fall, because im just cool like that. haha. reminds me of happier times.
2. -real- libraries, the old cambridge sort where there's kind of a musty smell of old books and you feel like there's just this.. presence in the whole place. man i could stay in one of those for the whole day and not even read and i'd still love it.
3. listening to people talk about their dreams, whether it's the ones you have at night or the real ones you want to achieve someday. i dunno, it gives me a nice warm feeling inside, and i feel quite trusted. :)
can i add another one.
4. shoes
hahahahahhaa
8.
Urm,there r just too many things that can trigger happiness in me.Gah,I sound hopelessly romantic!Anyways,here goes:
1: SMS from friends close at heart.The reason why RM30 doesn't stretch that long to cover a month.I don't like phone calls though...
2: Stuff from previous institutions.I still keep all my test papers at the secondary level.Sentimental huh?
3: A combination of things; a good novel,iPod,and a train ride.
9.
1. I cook something and everyone likes it
2. Discovery of anything: music, places, movies, food, friends etc..
3. Make other people happy
Simple girl with simple needs. Heh.
10.
3 things that makes me happy -ha, thats simple!
1. hmmm..food
2.........story books
3..............when the people that I care is happy!
owh..the dotted line means how much time that I put in to answer it. 1 min/dot..
So, i think it's not that simple after all.^_________^
11.
1. IKEA. It feel like going to the western contries whenever i go there.
2. Travel. I love to travel. Nak pegi semua tempat. wanna feel the 4 seasons!!!
3. When mummy's happy, im happy... heeeeeheeee
12.
1. When elderly couples walk holding hands.
2. When men walk with young daughters carried on their shoulders.
3. Skies,I look up to them and everytime feel some sort of release.
The fact that you bothered to answer my question made me really happy back then. So thank you, if or even if you're not reading.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Spastic dancing
Anjakan paradigma!
I hate speaking up in tutorials. The nerves,man. Stuttering and stumbling over words, forgetting basic sentence structure, the shaking hands, the trembling voice, the thudding heartbeat. You'd think that that one time I won a story-telling competition for my age category hosted by Ribena and held at Cheras Leisure Mall when I was small would have cured the heebie-jeebies. But no,I am loath to participate in class discussion. Perhaps it's the topic matter, perhaps it's the lack of understanding, maybe it's the language barrier (e.g:in french class, I usually spend half the time staring blankly at my teacher, and the other half staring at my book so she wouldn't call on me to try and answer her question because I have nearly no idea what she asked me to do in the first place), maybe it's the self-esteem.
But, I have endeavored in the past week to try and change this. I contributed! Trembling as I did so, I admit, but still. I am trying to overcome the shaking hands. Award self 2 effort points.
I have now established a rule. If we're going to be friends, you're going to have to love this song and have the ability to do some crazy spastic eighties dancing to it. It's either spastic dancing or we can't be friends.
Award self 2 giving-ridiculous-ultimatums points.
I hardly ever actually use the word 'cheers' when speaking.
I wish there was club, a nightclub, that played spastic-dancing music(maybe there already is. Someone take me there!). My dream play list would include 1901 and Lisztomania by Phoenix, Boys of Summer by The Ataris, Keep the Car Running by Arcade Fire, My Party by Kings of Leon, No Tomorrow by Orson, I Feel it All by Feist. The dress code would be comfort chic, high heels would be forbidden(allowing spastic dancing in heels is just hazardous and a lawsuit waiting to happen), people are expected to wear something comfortable that makes them feel good. Water would be provided for free, and there would be ample dancing space, a HUGE dancefloor. There would be no epileptic inducing lights, and plenty of seats. Doors would open early, none of that only after 10pm business.
My sister mercilessly tormented me with stories of how bloody awesome Kings of Convenience were at their gig in KL. I was metaphorically sobbing with jealousy at one point, but it's ok. I know I'll get my chance to see them someday. I am fated to meet Erlend Oye. And he is fated to hear me scream at him adoringly. It's our destiny.
Be happy, snickerdoodles.
I hate speaking up in tutorials. The nerves,man. Stuttering and stumbling over words, forgetting basic sentence structure, the shaking hands, the trembling voice, the thudding heartbeat. You'd think that that one time I won a story-telling competition for my age category hosted by Ribena and held at Cheras Leisure Mall when I was small would have cured the heebie-jeebies. But no,I am loath to participate in class discussion. Perhaps it's the topic matter, perhaps it's the lack of understanding, maybe it's the language barrier (e.g:in french class, I usually spend half the time staring blankly at my teacher, and the other half staring at my book so she wouldn't call on me to try and answer her question because I have nearly no idea what she asked me to do in the first place), maybe it's the self-esteem.
But, I have endeavored in the past week to try and change this. I contributed! Trembling as I did so, I admit, but still. I am trying to overcome the shaking hands. Award self 2 effort points.
I have now established a rule. If we're going to be friends, you're going to have to love this song and have the ability to do some crazy spastic eighties dancing to it. It's either spastic dancing or we can't be friends.
Award self 2 giving-ridiculous-ultimatums points.
I hardly ever actually use the word 'cheers' when speaking.
I wish there was club, a nightclub, that played spastic-dancing music(maybe there already is. Someone take me there!). My dream play list would include 1901 and Lisztomania by Phoenix, Boys of Summer by The Ataris, Keep the Car Running by Arcade Fire, My Party by Kings of Leon, No Tomorrow by Orson, I Feel it All by Feist. The dress code would be comfort chic, high heels would be forbidden(allowing spastic dancing in heels is just hazardous and a lawsuit waiting to happen), people are expected to wear something comfortable that makes them feel good. Water would be provided for free, and there would be ample dancing space, a HUGE dancefloor. There would be no epileptic inducing lights, and plenty of seats. Doors would open early, none of that only after 10pm business.
My sister mercilessly tormented me with stories of how bloody awesome Kings of Convenience were at their gig in KL. I was metaphorically sobbing with jealousy at one point, but it's ok. I know I'll get my chance to see them someday. I am fated to meet Erlend Oye. And he is fated to hear me scream at him adoringly. It's our destiny.
Be happy, snickerdoodles.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Shepherd's Pie
I can see you
Your brown skin shining in the sun
You got your hair slicked back and those wayfarers on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone.
The Boys Of Summer is the shiznit. I’ll always have a special place in my heart for the original version by Don Henley (eighties pop, whoo!), but the version in my head and blasting in my ears now is The Ataris’ cover, which I like because it makes me want to sing along at the top of my lungs and dance crazy, with splayed jazz fingers, head-banging, and the works.
As of late I tend to daydream about books. I look wistfully at the titles in the library or bookstore and find myself wishing I was a more intellectual reader, and a more serious one. I imagine reading obscure books that can’t be found on the bestsellers list, and I have an intense desire to be reading philosophical books. Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Freud. I want to have read something by Vonnegut, and have the enthusiasm to actually finish a classic (it took willpower to complete Great Expectations, and I couldn’t even finish Emma). What about feminist prose? The Female Eunuch. And poetry. I wish I read (and appreciated) poetry. But it seems my desire to be reading all these things hasn’t translated into finding the book and actually reading it. Therefore perhaps this is just an expression of pretentiousness. And why is it my book daydreams are all about English books? So....poyo(clearly the best way to describe it). Oh well. Hopefully I’ll be induced to read such books at some stage sooner or later. Until then I’ll be content with Agatha Christie novels and Nick Hornby.
I love the fact that my siblings are avid readers. My sister has excellent taste in fiction and is notoriously good at picking out books that I like (whenever I choose a book for myself it almost always sucks) and occasionally looks for books that can’t be found back home. My brother is the sort that always brings at least 3 books whenever we go on vacation and will sneakily stay up past his bedtime to read. I don’t read half as much as they do, of course, so they’re always nagging me to read something or the other, advice which I will occasionally listen to (and be grateful when I do).
Tak sabarnya nak breakfast esok. I love breakfast.
p/s: Hi Miss Salmi! If you're reading. Hope you're doing well.
Your brown skin shining in the sun
You got your hair slicked back and those wayfarers on, baby
And I can tell you my love for you will still be strong
After the boys of summer have gone.
The Boys Of Summer is the shiznit. I’ll always have a special place in my heart for the original version by Don Henley (eighties pop, whoo!), but the version in my head and blasting in my ears now is The Ataris’ cover, which I like because it makes me want to sing along at the top of my lungs and dance crazy, with splayed jazz fingers, head-banging, and the works.
As of late I tend to daydream about books. I look wistfully at the titles in the library or bookstore and find myself wishing I was a more intellectual reader, and a more serious one. I imagine reading obscure books that can’t be found on the bestsellers list, and I have an intense desire to be reading philosophical books. Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Freud. I want to have read something by Vonnegut, and have the enthusiasm to actually finish a classic (it took willpower to complete Great Expectations, and I couldn’t even finish Emma). What about feminist prose? The Female Eunuch. And poetry. I wish I read (and appreciated) poetry. But it seems my desire to be reading all these things hasn’t translated into finding the book and actually reading it. Therefore perhaps this is just an expression of pretentiousness. And why is it my book daydreams are all about English books? So....poyo(clearly the best way to describe it). Oh well. Hopefully I’ll be induced to read such books at some stage sooner or later. Until then I’ll be content with Agatha Christie novels and Nick Hornby.
I love the fact that my siblings are avid readers. My sister has excellent taste in fiction and is notoriously good at picking out books that I like (whenever I choose a book for myself it almost always sucks) and occasionally looks for books that can’t be found back home. My brother is the sort that always brings at least 3 books whenever we go on vacation and will sneakily stay up past his bedtime to read. I don’t read half as much as they do, of course, so they’re always nagging me to read something or the other, advice which I will occasionally listen to (and be grateful when I do).
Tak sabarnya nak breakfast esok. I love breakfast.
p/s: Hi Miss Salmi! If you're reading. Hope you're doing well.
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Melancholy's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there
I'm very sleepy, so in effect I suppose I am writing this akin to how I'd be writing if I were drunk.
I was in french class today, wondering how to turn all this around, when I was struck by the brilliant proposition: Considering how I tend to (shamelessly) vomit out my self-diagnosed depressing stories and emotional conundrums on this space, I am creating a vicious cycle of negativity for myself, whereby sad feelings propagates expression of sad feelings, which further triggers sad feelings, etc.
Why, thank you Captain Obvious. I would not have thought of that.
Anyway, brief monologues of sarcasm directed towards one's self aside, I thought that I should do a 180 degree flip. Rather than the usual self-bashing sentiments, I thought I'd canvass my willpower to avoid spilling that hot mess out and instead substitute it with:
a) Any memory where I was properly happy OR,
b) Anything I've ever done that makes me feel good OR,
c) Something that I like about myself.
It may all seem narcissistic, not to to mention supremely self-indulgent. But screw that. I need drastic measures. And we all already know I'm self-indulgent.
So. No more contemplating about social fuck-ups, stupidity, body hang-ups, and sentimental longing.
At least, not on the blog.
Ok. Boleh. Boleh.
I was in french class today, wondering how to turn all this around, when I was struck by the brilliant proposition: Considering how I tend to (shamelessly) vomit out my self-diagnosed depressing stories and emotional conundrums on this space, I am creating a vicious cycle of negativity for myself, whereby sad feelings propagates expression of sad feelings, which further triggers sad feelings, etc.
Why, thank you Captain Obvious. I would not have thought of that.
Anyway, brief monologues of sarcasm directed towards one's self aside, I thought that I should do a 180 degree flip. Rather than the usual self-bashing sentiments, I thought I'd canvass my willpower to avoid spilling that hot mess out and instead substitute it with:
a) Any memory where I was properly happy OR,
b) Anything I've ever done that makes me feel good OR,
c) Something that I like about myself.
It may all seem narcissistic, not to to mention supremely self-indulgent. But screw that. I need drastic measures. And we all already know I'm self-indulgent.
So. No more contemplating about social fuck-ups, stupidity, body hang-ups, and sentimental longing.
At least, not on the blog.
Ok. Boleh. Boleh.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Peripheral vision
Whenever I load stapler bullets into a stapler, I like to pretend I'm some sort of secret agent doing nifty spy work with some sort of spy mechanism, like loading a super-important microchip into a specialized carrier to be transported back to headquarters, or maybe just loading a bullet into a gun. But now that I think about it, I haven't done that in quite a while. Does that mean I'm growing up? Losing my inner-child. Golly.
It's hard to name favourite songs, but one that has secured a place as one of my favourites ever is The Killers' When You Were Young. You can love a song, and then you can love a song, and it's the latter for me with this one. I don't know why it resonates with me so distinctively, but when I listen to it it's like I'm listening to heartbreak and sadness and anger and disappointed hopes all wrapped up in a tide of something, I don't know what.
I got a new phone that comes with a qwerty keypad, and I can't help but feel slightly douchebag-ey. It's a phone meant for business professionals who need to email constantly on the run. I am not a business professional nor do I need to email constantly on the run. I'm using the phone to check my email which is usually made up of tickemaster or ticketek newsletters and facebook notifications. Why would I need a phone with a qwerty keypad?
My Kellogs are back with me, giving me a heady sense of relief. What would I do without them?
It's hard to name favourite songs, but one that has secured a place as one of my favourites ever is The Killers' When You Were Young. You can love a song, and then you can love a song, and it's the latter for me with this one. I don't know why it resonates with me so distinctively, but when I listen to it it's like I'm listening to heartbreak and sadness and anger and disappointed hopes all wrapped up in a tide of something, I don't know what.
I got a new phone that comes with a qwerty keypad, and I can't help but feel slightly douchebag-ey. It's a phone meant for business professionals who need to email constantly on the run. I am not a business professional nor do I need to email constantly on the run. I'm using the phone to check my email which is usually made up of tickemaster or ticketek newsletters and facebook notifications. Why would I need a phone with a qwerty keypad?
My Kellogs are back with me, giving me a heady sense of relief. What would I do without them?
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