imagination gone haywire

2012-01-23T18:48:00.004+08:00

The first time I can clearly remember misplacing my academic confidence was when I was thirteen. There was a test. Up until then I had taken for granted that I was smart. Sure, there were times I had trouble with science, and BM seemed to pose challenges once in a while, but I had always assumed it was my lack of effort that caused those complications, not my intellect.

This test I had was a maths test, of all things. Maths! I had considered maths a perfectly doable subject, so long as you learnt the material and did exercises. Maths was hard to screw up. I was more than confident I had done well in the test. My teacher was handing back our test papers, and I remember one of my classmates asking me what my score was. I glanced airily at my paper, expecting something in the mid-80s or maybe even 90, and that's when I saw I had actually scored something in the low-70s. A big, fat, jarring B.

And then I wasn't sure anymore.

High school was the first place I realized I may not be as good as I thought I was(yes, I was that pompous beforehand). And it was where I first encountered what it's like to be in a conversation where the person you are coversing with doesn't find you particularly clever. It's not anything obvious or intrinsically mean of course, it's not as if they point at you shouting "bodohnye kau ni!". But it's things like not fully taking your word on something the teacher was explaining in class the other day. Doubting your capacity to fully grasp or understand the subject material.

I don't know why, but I've gotten so paranoid with what other peoples' perception of my intelligence may be. It kills me to think that a particular person may find I am.....not exactly stupid, but lacking, somehow. Not up to par. Slow on the uptake. All that jazz.

It shouldn't matter, I know it shouldn't. At the end of the day, it depends on the effort you put in, and what you strive to learn for yourself. People's supposed opinions about you? Fuck that. It doesn't matter. Just do right by yourself, and learn for the right reasons.

But somehow my paranoia manifests in my abilities. I feel stupid, and I end up acting properly idiotic. I lose faith in my ability to reason, to do things, to think. And I end having no clue what the fuck I'm doing, and I seem as stupid as I am utterly scared of being.

I must have faith in myself. I must not be scared.

I am now working with a bunch of amazing people. They are intelligent, they are eloquent, they are smart cookies. And it's scaring the living daylights out of me. My incompetence was on display for the past week, and I have not felt as stupid as I did then in a particularly long time.

So you know what? Shit's gonna go down, but in a positive way. I'm going to work my ass off this year. And I will conquer this paranoia. And I'm going to learn, because I want to be kick-ass at what I do.

Wish me luck.

P/S: AND I MUST NOT BE AFRAID TO ASK QUESTIONS! For God's sake, tanye jelah. Don't be bodoh sombong can or not?

2012-01-04T22:58:00.002+08:00

I have a mess of observations and ideas inside my head. I've been having trouble methodically sorting through them, so I'm taking the desperate measure of puking out random points and thoughts in writing.

It is a sad truth that I've had a lot of friendships that faded away purely due to geographical reasons. When I came back home and walked into my bedroom for the first time in a couple years, I saw that the pictures in the frames on the walls were taken about four years ago, and some people in those pictures weren't relevant to my life anymore, not because of anything dramatic, but just because our friendship wasn't the kind to survive once our lives didn't overlap. It felt peculiar. I haven't spoken to you for ages, have no idea what you're doing, and yet there you are, smiling on my wall. You meant something to me back then.

I have a bit of bitterness lodged in my chest, and it is aimed at a particular person, which makes it harder to let go. I have tried rationalising through it, and when that failed, tried coaxing it to go away. I then attempted to prune it out of my thoughts altogether. At certain points, I optimistically believe I can overcome it with humor, but then it bubbles up again, and I feel it, vitriolic and hateful. I am disappointed with myself over this, I understand it is not right, this harboring of ill-will. I also grasp the concept that sometimes it's no one's fault, shit just goes down, and yet I still find myself frustrated, and I bounce between blaming myself and finding ways to justify my anger.

I start working next week, and I have all the regular fears of starting somewhere new. What if, what if, what if. At the top of the worry list, you have the classic, never-gets-old fear of "What if I don't make friends?", and as I work my way down, there are things like "Will rush hour traffic suck my soul out?" and "What if it takes me longer to learn and pick up things than the others?", and also some new ones, like "Can I trust myself to manage my money wisely?" and "Holy crap, ,macam mane nak pakai make-up?".

My brother is 15 this year folks, percaya tak? I was so surprised when I saw him at the airport, he's grown so tall. And he eats constantly, but remains lanky and thin. I, on the other hand, have only been back about half a month, and already I can tell my shorts and pants fit snugger around the waist. Food is yummy and plentiful, and while the sure fact that I've gained a bit of weight makes me unhappy, it's the sort of unhappiness that makes me sigh glumly for bit but then I brighten up while reaching for another piece/slice/helping of goreng pisang/cake/nasi/shepherd's pie/anything edible.

Oh, and I think my brother has nice handwriting. It's nicer than mine was at that age, or ever will be, as a matter of fact.

Ok bye.

2011-12-03T14:08:00.003+08:00

Hi.

My friend Hui Ying just enlightened me on the kickass Up remix by Australian DJ Pogo. I can't stop listening, it makes me want to float in sunshine, if that description makes you any the wiser. It makes me bob my knees while waiting for the elevator, or for the pedestrian light to turn green.

A group of friends chipped in to buy me this lovely, lovely teapot (with babushka dolls on them!) and teacup/saucer set for my birthday. My life's mission at the moment is to make sure I pack it and transport it back home all in one piece.

It's coming down to my last week in Melbourne and being fortunate enough to have had sufficient time on my hands to take care of all the administrative details of shifting my life back home well in advance, I find myself with free time to absorb my last moments in this city as I see fit. Sometimes I feel like I can't leave this place fast enough, sometimes I feel a sense of regret pondering all the changes that will occur in this city once I'm gone; if and when I come back next time, I know a lot will have changed, this city shifts and morphs so rapidly. The snapshot of Melbourne I have in my head will be outdated. I go to the market and some part me wants me to remember that North Atlantic Salmon was $24.50 a kilo, that there were blackberries and blueberries and cherries and yellow and white peaches and nectarines all piled up, that bananas were finally cheap again after a year that saw them priced ridiculously high due to the cyclone that hit Queensland. Avocados and lemons, delis and bakeries, organic sections selling all the good stuff, things I probably won't be able to find easily back home. I worry about all the things I haven't tried yet, the nooks and crannies I've never explored, the food I've never eaten, the places I've never been.

There was a recent point in time where I was cresting at an all-time high, it seemed like things had fallen into place, that I had finally figured out how to live, and how to handle life, and while I fully realized I wouldn't cruise on this high forever, it felt like I had gained that level of maturity that enables you to ride out anything you face with a facet of grace. But of course that illusion came to an inevitable end, and I went through a particularly graceless period, and it scared the shit out of me, because it made me realize that I will never have everything figured out. Getting older and wiser doesn't equate to not making mistakes, and the possibility of fucking up is perpetual. I suppose that's just life, we're meant to do our best and stumble through, but I'm so scared of the stumbling and my ability to pick myself up after each fall.

If there's anything I wish for, I pray so hard that this year, this year that felt so fucked up at times; made me a better person for it, that I learned something, that I grew a new coat of resilience, that I have a better appreciation for my family and my friends, that I am less cynical, that I am less pretentious, that I am braver, that I am fitter, that I properly think before making a decision, that I smile more, that I am better. That I am better.

I pray I have the guts to own up to my mistakes, and that I am less selfish, less spiteful, and more sincere.

I am 23.

2011-11-26T21:48:00.002+08:00

Have you ever replayed a conversation in your head and realized how unlikeable you sounded?

Thoughts as of 21/11/2911

2011-11-21T15:31:00.002+08:00

1. I had an alarming dream yesterday, where I was going to kill myself. And it was all condoned and official, there was a sense of of an institution or authority presiding over my planned suicide, there were official figures who were going to help me carry it out. These authoritative figures had just helped a couple of other individuals shoot themselves in the head, I watched them do it. There was another person, a boy, who was going to kill himself the same time as me, as if there was some sort of schedule of suicides going on, two people at a time. Our method of ending our lives was supposed to be by jumping off a building, but after I saw the two people before me shoot themselves, I decided I wanted to go for the gun method as well, because it seemed quick and painless, so I arranged for the mysterious officers to help shoot me in the head, right at my temple. And I recall in my dream waiting for the deed to be carried out, and suddenly it occurred to me that even though this felt right, there was a niggling feeling that God might not think so, and I could be doing the wrong thing. As much as I wanted to die, to obtain the relief that comes along with it, maybe I wasn't ready, maybe I wouldn't be getting what I thought I would. But it was too late to change my mind, I couldn't back out now.

And then I woke up.

2. Contrary to how morbid the dream was, I woke up feeling quite cheerful and eager for my oatmeal and coffee.

3. I've been doing my packing, and it's coming along nicely. It turns out I can fit 4 years in about 3 boxes and a suitcase.

4. I've never been one to have a life motto,daily mantra or wise words to live by, and I am far too cynical and in fear of sounding preachy to proclaim I do now, but one thing that occurred to me recently was that I have to do by right by myself to be able to right by others. And of course that sounds obvious to the rational mind, but it was surprising to me when I realized that. I had forgotten somewhere along the line.

5. Friday's Body Step class at the gym is conducted by this really nice American lady. And I enjoy her class, she's fun, and her routines are good. But then she started incorporating circuit training into the class, and the long and short of it is that circuit training involves burpees. Needless to say, I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I still hate it after having done it a few times. I hate this nice instructor every time we do circuit training, I hate her guts for those few minutes. In that one particular track that involves the burpees, we do them interspersed with pulsing on our feet from left to right, but at the very end of the song, the nice instructor will encouragingly yell at us to do burpees continuously, on and on until the song ends. I always have to laugh at this moment, because every time, without fail, half of the class's reaction(myself included) will be to stop and stare at her in disbelief for a few seconds before grudgingly getting down and doing them.

Winter

2011-11-07T19:43:00.003+08:00

Hi.

For some reason, I fell flat off my face onto the wrong side of the bed and I was in a bad mood. Nothing life-altering, just one of those brief phases of grumpiness that are unpleasant while they run their course. In this particular case, I'm not quite sure if it was a reason for the bad mood or a consequence, but I wouldn't stop eating. I seriously wouldn't. I'd eat until I felt slightly sick. No pleasure derived from the act of eating, I would just eat, eat, eat until I literally couldn't shovel anything else in.

Then, it manifested in irrational irritation. For example, while I was out walking just now, I wanted to punch the head of the girl in front of me teetering in wedges who couldn't seem to decided which way she wanted to go. Yes. I wanted to punch her in the head.

This bad mood peaked at the gym, where it fueled a rage-induced work-out(and I'd like to believe it made me rack up herculean efforts during my work-out, but in truth it was just the regular routine on the stationary bike and a slow jog on the treadmill. Nevertheless, it felt like I was on FIYAH and all awesome!) , but thankfully, it petered out as adrenaline kicked in, and by the time I was on the rowing machine it had simmered down. And when I was walking home from the gym, the bad mood had subsided to the phase where I listen to melancholic, defeatist music such as Creep by Radiohead and Your Ex-Lover is Dead by Stars.

Speaking of melancholic songs, when I was going through my shitty phase a few months back, I had a theme song. I played this constantly while trudging through the cold weather and being all miserable. The fact that it was winter at the time was a satisfying coincidence. I share this with the hopes that if someone out there is trying to get through some sadness, maybe this song could be your theme song too.

I wonder if it's the heat getting to me. Summer's practically here y'all, and it's getting uncomfortably hot. The kind of heat that melts your face when you walk outside and makes you actively search out routes that are shaded. The kind of heat where you have to sleep with the sliding door open and toss frustratedly in bed in the middle of the night, kicking off the quilt, trying to find the coolest part of the bedsheets.

I haven't been home in almost 2 years. And I've been thinking about that flight back home, from the mundane customs of checking-in and going through passport control, to getting through the actual flight and touching down in KL and that moment where I'll exit the aircraft and get a whoosh of warm air to my face.

Home, home!

2011-10-25T10:19:00.002+08:00

Wahai lalat-lalat yang terbang masuk apartment,

Kalau korang boleh terbang masuk, kenapa korang tak reti nak terbang keluar? Aku kesian bila aku tengok korang terbang langgar semua tingkap and sliding door. Tapi bila aku jerit dan cuba beri hand signals directing tingkat yang terbuka, aku tak diendahkan.

Lagi genting, I tend to kill you guys bila korang tengah duduk senyap-senyap. I'm sorry. Tapi aku takut korang bertelur dekat tong sampah kat dapur. Kelly and I, we don't do maggots.

p/s: Out of curiosity, waktu winter korang gi mane? Korang jadi macam itik dan terbang ke warmer climates ke?

Dan Sebagainya

2011-10-13T06:33:00.003+08:00

I was in a grumpy mood a couple days back, and was even grumpier when Zumba didn't seem to be alleviating the irritation. What DID help, however, was when were in the middle of a song that required us to do a specific hand movement, and I accidentally hit myself in the forehead. It hurt and annoyed the shit out of me for two seconds, but then I had to concede with a rueful snort that I was getting pissy for no reason and maybe smacking myself in the head was what I needed to rise above my grumpy cloud.

I've become reacquainted with the stationary rowing machine at the gym, and for some reason, I like it very much at the moment. There is an almost meditative quality to just lightly rowing over and over again, allowing me to zone out or have my thoughts wander along as I cruise nowhere. Before finishing up my time at the gym, I find myself thinking "Oooh, let's go rowing!", as if I were donning a nice spring outfit, about to go out for a leisurely row on the lake that borders my property, instead of going on a stationary rowing machine.

You know what makes me happy? Food. My cooking leaves much to be desired, and I'd be the first to admit that that whole 'balance of taste' thing still eludes me, I still have trouble figuring out a good mix of coffee grounds, creamer and sugar to make a cup of coffee, apatah lagi balancing out the saltiness, sweetness, and sourness of a dish. Which is why I cook following recipes, rather than going with the flow and tossing in things that seem logical. But I thoroughly enjoy exploring the unfamiliar, albeit slowly. What have I learned so far on my culinary endeavors? That I really like couscous. Totally smitten. And I dig eating firm tofu as is, I snack on it as I'm cutting it up into pieces to cook. Same goes with tempeh(shout out to Kelly, the original tempeh queen! She got me hooked). Greek yoghurt is a rich and creamy as they rave, but I don't know, its tang is a bit too much for me, I think I'd choose regular plain low-fat yoghurt over it. I also now have cumin up there as one of my go-to spices. And quinoa is nice and nutty and so far my favourite way of eating is is via stir-frying it with some fish sauce and soy sauce. And soba noodles! I LOVE soba noodles!

I'd like to believe that exploring foods and cooking more has made me better appreciate food in general. I try to remind me to eat more slowly and to properly savour the food. Which I fail at sometimes, there are still moments where I gobble down, but I always regret it afterward, and I feel unsatisfied and sad over an opportunity of enjoyment lost.

Today in the kitchen I have a tub of fresh mozzarella, basil and tomatoes, and a loaf of ciabatta. Needless to say, I'm excited to have lunch later. What shall it be? Bruschetta? Caprese salad? No idea. But I am having it for lunch! And it shall be good! Because you can't go wrong with tomatoes and mozzarella and basil and nice crusty bread!

2011-10-09T21:22:00.002+08:00

I've had some experiences in the past couple days that have me a bit shaken up, not in the sense something dangerous happened and I was threatened physically or anything, but more in terms of thought processes and reflections. I am, at present, in the dangerous mode of wanting to get all philosophical and conduct public biopsies of my emotions, all it would take would be for someone to press an unfortunate trigger and you'd see me combust into a flurry of babbling, swear-words, tears, or all three.

Nasib baik dah ngantuk sangat. I'm so sleepy I can't think straight.

Mangga

2011-09-28T14:05:00.003+08:00

How awesome is this?

Here in Melbourne, it can rain quite a bit as per the season, but in my opinion, there are rarely thunderstorms. Showers plenty, lots of drizzling and light rain that makes you give the sky a stink eye as you debate whether it's heavy enough to require getting out your umbrella or whether you can just stick it out. Occasionally it rains hard enough for you to to get the lower half of your jeans soaked whilst you cower under an umbrella, cursing its flimsiness and praying that the wind won't blow it inside out, all the while regretting not having worn sneakers as your ballet flats made out of canvas squish audibly with each step.

But not that many thunderstorms. The kind that turns day into a darkened, gloomy mass, and you have no idea what time it is, no sun to give any clues. The kind where rain beats down with a vengeance, there is lightning and growls of thunder, steady streams of water gushing down the sides of roads, puddles forming within any indentation in the ground. The kind that when they happen, your ideal activity would be to be indoors, preferably with a hot beverage or snack, lazing about gloriously as the rain mutes the outside world.

Today there was a thunderstorm that roughly began while I was having lunch. A lunch that, among other things, included a mug of lovely, hot, not-too-sweet coffee and a ripe, juicy mango(favourite tropical fruit, possibly?) I got for 2 bucks at the market yesterday(you know warmer seasons are a-coming when mangoes start making a comeback! Damn, so excited). Curling up in my room all warm and cosy with yummy food watching cooking shows while it's raining cats and dogs outside? Why hello, nikmat.

Thoughts as of 21/09/2011

2011-09-21T10:04:00.002+08:00

1. I want to make strawberry crumble to use up the huge-ass punnet of strawberries I bought at the market.

2. Hari tu panas, hari ni sejuk. Hari tu matahari sinar dengan penuh gemerlapan, semalam hail kejap.

3. How I think I look like in my head doesn't seem to coincide much with how I actually look like. Also: Is the pursuit or the desire to look good inextricably linked with vanity? Can you really just want to look good for yourself, and not for others?

4. In the midst of all this free time, when I can get myself to shut up for a moment and seriously think for a bit, I've been trying to figure out what I really want to do. What do you want to do, Ayang? Do you really want to do accounting? Do you really want a corporate job, is a job offer at, say, one of the Big 4 companies REALLY what you want? Superficially, that seems like the thing I should and suppose am,aiming for. But something is telling me to think harder, look beyond the ingrained belief of securing a decent paycheck at a notable firm. Like a lot of other targets I've had in life, I place too much faith in the idea that I'll be automatically gratified by achieving said targets, while conveniently forgetting the possible shit that comes along with it.

5. Zumba classes. Whenever I do Zumba, I feel slightly stupid. Something to do with my lack of swag and general self-consciousness. But it's fun. And my instructor's cool, he's funny, looks like a hip-hop dancer and as an added bonus doesn't wear any of those baggy track bottoms with bits of string dangling as favoured by Zumba instructors you see on youtube.

6. My sister was the bee knees as usual when she gave me a couple of new tracks to listen to. This song by Real Estate invokes something pretty and nostalgic, like basking in a sunset or riding in a car with the windows down with your hand out to surf the wind.

7. I've been telling myself to not be so afraid, in a very general sense. Stop being scared of everything, anything. Just plunge in and do it. Get started. Be brave. Go. Fly.

Hari Raya

2011-09-01T09:11:00.004+08:00

Selamat Hari Raya!

I was an un-raya as could be yesterday. I had called home a couple days before, and hearing my family talk about raya preparations and such was like a sucker-punch of homesickness to the stomach, one-two, POW-POW!

There wasn't anything going on for raya here on the day itself, what with it being a weekday, with the kids at uni having classes, and things going as per usual. I decided to drag myself to the gym, so I got changed and headed off, swinging the shoe bag holding my sneakers. I was walking along the alley in front of the gymnasium when suddenly a guy turned into the alley from another lane up ahead and he was wearing a pink baju melayu, sampin and all. BAM! I suddenly realized it was raya after all. I couldn't stopped grinning, and I think at some point I was actually hastening my steps in order to keep up with the guy(he was walking rather briskly) and making sure I had him in my sights for as long as feasible. As if I were a kid, and he was Father Raya himself. Like I was Alice(Alia?) in Wonderland following a sampin-clad rabbit. A pink rabbit.

My sister's birthday was the day before raya in Malaysia, that's when I called home and wished I could be there, even if it meant fielding unnecessary questions and striking up awkward conversations with relatives. I had wanted to do my Annual Tribute in the Form of Poetry for her, but inspiration ran dry this year, and the only thing I ended up with was one verse plagiarized from 50 Cent, cross-sectioned with the fact that her birthday intersperses with raya this year.

Go Kakak
It's your birthday
It's almost raya but it's your birthday
You sibuk kemas rumah but it's your birthday
So jangan sedih sangat because it's your birthday!

For shame, for shame.

I had met up with a friend for dinner a couple nights back, and she introduced me to a classmate of hers, they were taking a cigarette break before we headed out to makan. And this classmate was as laid-back and as nice as could be, utterly mellow, and all I could think about while making her acquaintance was how stiff I was, I could almost see the awkwardness radiating from me in waves, vague but persistent waves that pulsated off me and bumped into this person in its path, I bet she could tangibly feel it. Jeez, ayang. Tak reti-reti lagi.

Have you see the new Wong Fu Productions short film? I thought it was romantic,the colours beautiful. I have a crush on Chris Dinh. But I especially loved the soundtrack, a song by Jesse Chui.
Origami Airplanes by Songs for Cinema

Selamat Hari Raya! :)

Another cookie always seems like a good idea until you reach cookie number 4

2011-08-20T12:06:00.004+08:00

Back when I was filling in application forms, I was always slightly stumped when they asked me to describe my hobbies or interests. That was the first time in a while where I really assessed what I did for leisure, and I was slightly surprised to be so self-conscious about it.

When I come across music that excites me, or read a book or the news, or follow bits and bobs on the internet, it doesn't feel like nothing. It feels substantial. But when it comes to filling a form asking about my interests, all of a sudden it seems very embarrassing to merely type in 'Reading books,listening to music, surfing the internet'. When I was in sekolah rendah it was always perfectly legit to write down 'Hobi saya adalah membaca buku cerita', why not so much now?

I'd often itch to say my interests include tennis, going on safari, photography. Collecting viking paraphernalia, scuba-diving, painting batik. Training seeing-eye dogs, learning sign language, volunteering at national parks. Fencing, origami, subtitling foreign films. Horseback-riding, rock-climbing, jamming with my Fender Stratocaster. Yoga, contemporary dance, doing triathlons.

Oh well.

***

Weather today is drop-dead gorgeous, I must say. From my room I can see nothing but blue skies, with a hint of a breeze indicated by the lightly billowing Australian flag on top of the Royal Melbourne Hospital. If I were to pick a day to feel like I could do anything, today would be it.

Yesterday was pizza day. I love how yeast makes dough grow, it's freaky, but in a good way. We went a bit crazy towards the end, scattering toppings willy-nilly, and Kelly had the insistent belief that the best thing to do would be to formulate a stuffed crust for one of the pizzas. So we did, stretching the dough over shredded mozzarella all around the edge, forming this barrier of cheese-filled bread. AND, Kelly baked her crack-cookies again.Damn, son.

It all backfired this morning though, when I had 3 leftover slices for sahur, followed by 4 cookies. Apparently even gluttony has its limits, that being the confines of my stomach. Feeling too full for too long a time had me groaning in discomfort, why, Atiqah, why? Insaf, insaf!

***

Kpop musings.

I have to admit, I'm pretty hooked on Teen Top's No More Perfume on You. It's catchy, very reminiscent of Chris Brown's Forever. Even when I learned the song was about a boy asking his older love-interest to not wear perfume lest it rubs off on him and his girlfriend smells it and catches whiff of this illicit affair, I was all the more charmed. It's amusing to see these cute hairless boys playing Casanova, and besides, what cool chick would seriously fall for a 17-year old? She was probably just having a bit of fun herself.

But as with their other material, this song has Niel, as the most dependable singer, being given the lion's share of its lines, followed by Chunji who gets the leftovers, while the rest get, well, bits and pieces of the carcass. I am always slightly annoyed when groups get promoted in this fashion, I dislike having some members merely as backdrops. Niel is, in essence, the Nicole Scherzinger of Teen Top.

Atiqah

2011-08-14T11:28:00.003+08:00

What are you capable of, Atiqah?

Hmmm.

I rarely think of myself as Atiqah, and now that I am, it seems like a separate entity. There's a distinct "Holy crap, I AM Atiqah!" feeling.

Hare Krishna

2011-08-11T14:07:00.006+08:00

The Hare Krishnas here in Melbourne run this canteen in the city, where for 6 dollars, you can have unlimited helpings to vegetarian fare. I was walking around the city about a month back, when one of the Hare Krishnas passed me a small leaflet advertising the canteen. On the back of the leaflet was printed:-

Chant

Hare Krishna
Hare Krishna
Krishna Krishna
Hare Hare

Hare Rama
Hare Rama
Rama Rama
Hare Hare

and your life will be sublime

I somehow find it amusing every time I read it. Sublime ah? I don't know the first thing about the theology underlying Hare Krishnas, nor their structure or belief system. But I like how this small leaflet reaffirms my idea of its followers and intertwines with memories of seeing them dancing and singing while walking around the busiest parts of the city. There was always something so oblivious and joyous about them, so carefree.

***

The London riots, in all its horribleness, have been quite transfixing to follow. I feel very sorry for the victims(with Asyraf Haziq standing out amongst them), and at the same time I am also intrigued by how rioting manifests in general. It's amazing, in an awful way. It's as if all social conventions are suspended, there are no rules.

Is there really any one reason a riot starts? I supposes it's a cocktail that can include various things, from racial tensions, to the socio-economic landscape, to deep-rooted problems within a community, or any number of unfortunate circumstances. But you have to wonder what combination of any of the above could mix and bubble and boil until it leads up to people behaving so frighteningly primitively. What pushes them over the edge? Would I act the same way if I had been in their shoes?

And what is the triggering factor, what is that breaking point that makes something click in the heads of people who are angry and makes them resort to violence? At what point does a crowd protesting the death of a man suddenly turn hostile, and at what point does that hostility segue into breaking into shops and looting and general chaos?

Articles I've been reading about the riots have phrases like 'mob mentality', 'marginalized by society', 'troubled youths', 'pent-up anger'. One of them stressed that irregardless, at the end of the day people had a choice. God knows there is enough evidence of people who have done bad things in this world for me to understand that there are those who choose to do wrong, but I am still astounded when I see things like that footage of people helping Asyraf up, only to open up his bag and steal his stuff while he's standing there bleeding and disoriented, it just boggles the mind that someone can choose to do that.

Kesian dia. And kesian mak bapak dia. I think every parent who has ever sent their kid to study far away(or just any parent, really) worries most about their child getting hurt in some way, and this must have been a sort of nightmare come true.

***

Day 11 of puasa.

Wolf Like Me

2011-08-02T16:34:00.005+08:00

This song is so good.

In the midst of being a complete wreck, there was this moment some time back where this song made me get up and dance alone in my room in a way that was so hideous and for a minute felt completely awesome. Head-banging, legs kicking, jumping up and down. Dancing dengan gaya yang boleh menakutkan orang. Menari macam lupa dunia.

This song sometimes pushes me to pick up my feet when I'm on the treadmill. Power song! The drums sound like my feet pounding the pavement. It makes me feel like I could fly(even though I actually jog so slowly). It feels like I could run my frustrations away.

This song makes me want to experience it in it's fully glory at a gig, jostling in a crowd screaming the lyrics(especially the part that goes Gonna teach you tricks that'll blow your mongrel mind!, I want to punch the air with each syllable), the music deafening my ears. Blinding lights and a natural high.

So good. SO GOOD! When the trumpets(are those even trumpets?) come in around the 1.45 mark, I'm blown, I'm a goner, I'm euphoric. You know I'm a sucker for trumpets.

Then there's that moment where the song slows down, and I get slightly disappointed each time, but then it picks up again and escalates into the crescendo. Heck yeah.

This is a song I love to get lost in.

2011-07-22T12:26:00.002+08:00

It is cliched to turn to a blog when you think you are sad, but I don't know what to do.

I have been trying to trace back my footsteps, trying to pinpoint the exact moment or decision that has brought me here, to this very moment. What made me decide to stay here, anyway? What phase of my life has shaped me into becoming the shit-scared, ambition-lacking, messed-up lost person I am now?

Have you ever suddenly realized that you have become someone you didn't think you were, and people you thought were worse than you are actually better?

They were showing Fight Club on tv, and there's this scene, the one when Tyler kisses the narrator's hand and then pours lye over it. And there's Edward Norton screaming in agony, and Tyler Durden's trying to make him see. "Listen to me! You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you".

Things have not gone my way, and now I've become someone who doesn't bother trying. I am chicken shit a lot of the time now, and screwing up has become expectation. I never thought I'd be someone who'd roll over and play dead.

You see, I know what I'm supposed to be doing. I realize that I cannot think that my continuous string of failures are acts of punishment by God. I realize I must take responsibility for my own outcome and not blame it on external factors, divine or not. I am supposed to be aware that my problems are actually okay, and I will get through this like I get through everything, and things will not seem as dramatic as I paint them to be in my head. Two hours from, two days from now, two weeks from now, two months from now, two years from now, things could and will be different. I am supposed to take charge of my own misery and bounce back with a fierce resilience. I am supposed to get up and do something, goddamnit. And above all, I am supposed to get over myself and just do the best I can.

But fuck all that for the moment, and let me get this off my chest. I don't have a job. Six and a half months as a graduate and no fucking clue what I'm going to do. I have a PR application pending on a medical exam that just won't come together, thanks to blood pressure issues I seem to have acquired. I stopped trying somewhere along the nth rejection, and I don't know how I could have lost all sense of confidence, in myself and my ability to do anything right. I have tried to keep this in, because I know I don't have the right to complain, not until I can say with absolute certainty that I have done everything that I can, but as a result I have never felt more alone than I do now.

It's silly, isn't it? If it wasn't this, I bet it would be something else. In an alternate universe, I have a job I'm miserable in, one that would still result in high blood pressure, and a bunch of co-workers who tolerate me, and maybe I'd be fed-up with how I do my work and be pressured by my boss such that I lose confidence in myself and come up with this exact same post, only in different terms.

We all have to hit bottom some time.

Should I give up with this disastrous endeavor? Cut the chord, accept defeat. Sell off furniture, apply somewhere back home, explain this 6 month gap as a failed attempt, laugh it off, ruefully explain it didn't work out when someone asks. Consider all of my parents' money spent sunk into an investment that flopped, start work somewhere new, put aside minuscule amounts for them each month in an attempt to even begin to say how sorry I am to have wasted their time and money. How sorry I am that I wasn't as good as I made them think I was, that I overestimated my ability to make it here. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

I understand I'll be okay. This is unemployment and a severe lack of self-esteem, not the end of the world. I'm sorry for writing it here like part of some celebrity tell-all autobiography. I just feel like shit at the moment.

2011-07-09T20:59:00.002+08:00

One thing that bothers me these days is how angry I can get. It comes swiftly and with an intensity that is disturbing, when did I get so bitter? And as of late it seems to manifest itself more often through physical action, through gritted teeth and clenched fists and a desire to destroy. I punch walls and kick bed frames and slap surfaces, something to ruin, something to hurt.

**

Guess what? Tadi aku keluar pergi makan dengan kawan aku. Bila aku balik rumah, tengok-tengok mak aku dah siap lipat baju aku yang baru basuh. Terharu siot. Clean laundry, all folded and ready! Magical.

Thoughts

2011-07-07T21:19:00.004+08:00

Thoughts, thoughts.

The Tour de France is on at the moment, I stumbled across SBS broadcasting it live a couple nights ago while tv-surfing before bed. And while I am absolutely lost in regards to competitive cycling, it was mesmerizing. I don't know why. Something about the repetitiveness of all the legs pedaling, I guess.

I have to admit, reading the Tour de France's wikipedia entry didn't exactly enlighten me on how exactly it works. I ended up googling 'Tour de France for dummies', which yielded some reads that shed a bit of light, but it's all still very vague and confusing. Oh well. I'll just take advantage of the hypnotic qualities of watching it, I guess. It helps me fall asleep.

***

My mom's visiting me at the moment, and I am thankful.

I have been feeling low lately. Its cause is nowhere near severe as something like a terminal illness or an unspeakable tragedy, and I suspect it is merely fueled by self-pity and nothing but my own mistakes. Nonetheless, I have been sad. And while I am no stranger to bouts of self-centered blues(have you read some of the shit I've posted here?), it has been feeling like I'm in a rut I can't quite get out of, that I've screwed up too much or have been screwed with, that I can't do anything but keep numb and have the decency to keep it tightly capped, as much as I can, anyway.

Before mom came, feelings of relief that she was coming was smothered by notions that as much as I want mom to come and make things okay, I am an adult now. She can't clean up the mess I've made of things, and I can't ask her to save me anymore.

But right now, it feels like she has, like she is. Not in the sense of literally resolving my problems, but in a way that feels like I have found a bit of faith in myself again, like I can do something. She's kick-starting me. I hope to God the feeling's not temporary. I hope to God it doesn't go away.

Harimau Kumbang

2011-06-28T15:42:00.004+08:00

I had come across this lovely song + making-of video about a couple months past, and as much as I was taken by it, it didn't occur to me to save it to my favourites or properly commit it to my memory. As such, yesterday night I found myself wanting to listen to it again, and couldn't for the life of me remember the name of the band, nor the song. All I remembered was that the band name involved two animals, and I had a semi-confident notion that one of those animals was a dog. Dog and something.

Dog and Bear? No.

Dog and Wolf? No.

Are you sure it wasn't Dog and Bear? Hmm.

Maybe it wasn't even Dog. Wolf and Bear?

Punyalah susah aku nak ingat nama dia. I spent a good fifteen minutes consumed with this activity of guessing animal pairings, and tried googling 'indie bands with names including animals', which yielded a facebook group devoted to such bands but without luck.

Thank God for web browser history. It turned out to be Dog & Panther!

After weeks of whining to Kelly that I really wanted to re-watch The Lord of the Rings, I was in enough of a funk today to convince myself a nine-hour movie marathon would, in fact, be ideal. I scouted out the DVDs on my way back from returning books at the library, and I'm watching The Two Towers as I type this. Hugo Weaving! I had forgotten you were in this!

Berenang

2011-06-15T08:16:00.003+08:00

I can't swim.

Can I? I can propel myself forwards in water via kicking my feet, I suppose. But I don't know what to do with my arms. And I don't know how to breath. Every time I turn my head out of water to inhale I end up gulping water. And I can't do anything but panic if my feet don't touch the bottom.

So no, I can't swim.

I wonder why. I have this very distinct memory of being sent to swimming classes when I was a kid. This was back when we were staying in Kerteh, and mom would bring me to the resident golf/country club for lessons. I have a vague notion of being taught how to paddle my feet while holding on to the sides of the pool, but the strongest memory, the most solid recollection I have of swimming class is being with a bunch of other kids at the edge of the deepest part of the pool. The instructor put a buoy in the middle of the pool, and proceeded to ask us to swim to it and then back to the edge. HOLY SHIT WAS THAT SCARY. I remember swimming and breathing in sputtering motions, wanting to panic and not do it, but everyone else seemed fine and able to. I didn't want to be the only one too chicken to do it(I was six, but I had pride, yo). So I got to the buoy, where the instructor was treading, held on for a while, then sputtered and spewed my way back to the edge. I think he said something about how I could improve, but I think at that time I was just consumed with "TAK NAK BUAT LAGI DAH! TAKUT!" thoughts in my head. I can't remember what happened after that, but I think the way I swim now is exactly how I swam that day, so maybe I stopped going for classes.

Damn. I wish I could swim. I should be able to swim. If I could just do a decent front crawl that can get me from one end of the pool to the other, I'd be happy.

Is swimming something that can be self-taught? Study in theory, go to a pool, practice? One of my favourite Lat cartoons is a scene from Kampung Boy, the one where he depicts how he learned to swim, basically via his dad tossing him into the river when he was a kid. I'd like to believe if someone creeps up behind me and pushes me into a pool my survival instincts would take over and suddenly I'd be a freaking mermaid, but you and I both know that wouldn't happen at all. I'd just flail around and somehow make it to the edge of the pool before trying to kill the person who pushed me in. Swimming skills gained? No. Manslaughter charges? Yes.

Maybe I should coerce someone into teaching me. Kakak? Maybe I could save up money and go for lessons.

Takpe. By hook or by crook, I'll learn how to swim. I'll be a seal in the water someday. A penguin. A water baby. A platypus. A cat with a strange likeness for water. Until then I'll just sigh longingly every time I go to the gym and catch a whiff of the chlorine from the pool.

Parmigiano Reggiano

2011-06-09T08:22:00.008+08:00

Yesterday was cold. The kind of cold that provokes the consumption of lots of hot beverages, the exclamations of "Sejuknya!" to the housemate, the wrapping of oneself in blankets, and staring out the sliding door, trying to figure out how many layers I would have to wear to convince myself to go outside(answer:three).

Another one of those telemarketers called. This one talked so fast, trying to get every word of his sales pitch in. For a second I considered (as I always do in these situations) just hanging up on the guy but as always, I never can quite bring myself to do that. I notice that whenever I'm on the phone with someone I am mad with I tend to hang up as quickly as possible, after a brisk "bye", so I suppose hanging up on someone with absolutely no warning or courtesy must be the equivalent of a "fuck you". I haven't mustered enough social rebellion to do that. So I stayed on the line and tried to find some moment I could interject and say I wasn't interested.

I couldn't get a word in, he was careening along the path of a much repeated script. I wondered how many times he must have been hung up on to get up to this speed.I thought to myself, who would want this job? This job that requires you to talk as fast as you can, grasping any extra minute the listener doesn't hang up to stuff as much information as possible, sell sell sell, convince me not hang up just a minute longer, with every minute maybe I'll eventually give in. Maybe the guy didn't have a choice, maybe the job has a good base salary and a decent commission for every customer snagged, maybe he's actually lucky to be doing this. Hey, the guy's actually working. Which was more than I could say for myself.

Suddenly things just seemed weary and sad, so I slumped on my bed, resigning myself to listen. In the background on his end I could hear another telemarketer, probably in the next cubicle, a woman this time. I wondered what the place he worked in was like, was it a call centre like in Slumdog Millionaire, a big room full of people with headsets? I settled myself more comfortably on my bed while letting out the occasional "uh-huh". I wondered what was the success rate of telemarketing.

It had to stop somewhere. In the end, as he was trying to get details from me, I told him thank you for taking the time to explain it to me, but I wasn't interested. I could still hear him trying to catch hold of me, trying to reiterate the benefits of the plan, as I said bye and put down the phone.

***

Every time I go to the market or the shops and pass the cheese aisle, I often resolve to one day save up or cut down on other groceries in order to buy a hunk of good parmesan cheese.

Yeah. I make cheese-based ambitions now.

Turning Point

2011-06-04T10:22:00.000+08:00

When I start tinkering around with a semi-active(or partially dead?) blog's colours, I can sort of tell that sebenarnya I takde kerja, ni. Well, this wasn't really tinkering. This was just a matter of bleaching all colour and making everything black and white. 2 points for kesenangan untuk dibaca.

The other day I realized I was turning 23 this year. Which means:

a) Jimmy Eat World's song, 23, finally applies to me.

c) I'm practically 25. Well, I'll be damned. It seems like age progression is continuous disbelief over your real age. I see these kids (kids?) who were born in 1994 or 1995 and for some reason I automatically think in my head that they're around 10 or 11, 1994 doesn't seem that long ago, but then I realize it's 2011 and they're 17 or 16, and I'm 23! 23! 25! 30!

***

I know this is one of those mundane domestic mishaps that doesn't need to be shared, but I let my guard down to the monster that is my washing machine and it decided to gnaw off the hooks of my favourite sports bra. Shame on me for being too lazy to hand-wash it and just chucking it into the known terminator-of-delicate-clothing, but seriously. Seriously?

Let me tell you about this washing machine. It's been here since my first year, and I have no idea how old it actually is (I would cut it through the middle and count the rings like I would a tree, but then I wouldn't have a washing machine). It's a front-loader, and it has analog dials on the front. It's loud and clunky, and spasms alarmingly when it goes into spin mode.

It eats bra hooks. Out of spite, I bet.

Monster that this machine is, it serviced our laundry needs adequately, with the peculiar exception that when I set the dial to cold wash, the clothes that came out of it were warm.

Then, in my final semester, the monster decided it had had enough. It went crazy, and refused to run on normal settings, or would start and then stop halfway, and generally was a pain in the ass. Especially when it was assignment/exam season and I didn't have time to worry about not having clean clothes. Boy. That wasn't a fun time. At one point I found myself sitting on the floor, leaning against the monster, crooning Padi's Menanti Sebuah Jawaban to it, in some bizarre, desperate belief that singing jiwang, Indonesian songs to a whacked out washing machine would somehow convince it to work properly.

Flash forward to now, and we're still stuck with this machine (long story). It works, in a way, but obviously is still eats bra hooks. Spiteful thing. Maybe spanish songs next time? Or mumbly french ones. Maybe it's an European washing machine.

Cookies - Part 2

2011-05-15T12:15:00.002+08:00

Kelly's cookies are like crack,man.

The crafty girl split her batch into two and made one with white chocolate chips and macadamias. Anyone who knows me (well, that's not true. I think only Kelly knows this) knows that white chocolate chip and macadamia nut cookies are my supreme weakness out of all the variation of chocolate chip cookies. Especially large, soft, chewy ones. I weep. With joy.

Confronted with A WHOLE TIN of these decadent treats, of course I succumbed. Meaning I ate cookie after cookie after cookie. I don't know if it's because of the cold weather and unnecessary survival instincts taking over, or if it's just gluttony, but I can't stop eating, full-stop. Part of me goes "NOOOOOOO!", another part of me goes "I am not going deny myself the pleasure of cookies. Life's too short not to enjoy cookies", while another part of me logically concludes "Well, I'll just eat them all now. Then there won't be any left to tempt me later. Genius".

So I've been spending a large chunk of the day in my pajamas, eating warm cookies, reading food blogs, and I can tell you that this is a variation of lazy bliss previously not experienced.

Must. Get. Off. Arse.

Cookies

2011-05-14T10:43:00.004+08:00

I've never had a casual job before.

Can you imagine? Never worked as a waitress, never an attendant at the neighbourhood Petronas station, or a cashier at Giant. I didn't work an iota in the 3 months waiting for my SPM results, and when I got to Melbourne, I did get working rights attached with my visa, but didn't actually work. Oy.

If I ever have a children, once they've completed their SPM (or whatever variation the public examination would have morphed into by then), I'll give them a month tops to chill, and then will proceed to drag them kicking and screaming if I have to to the nearest Secret Recipe (I don't know, for some reason I automatically think of Secret Recipe when I think of post-SPM employment).

And when the children look at me in puzzlement and ask why I insist on them getting a job, I will tell them they will thank me years down the line when they are compiling their first resume and see that the working experience they have is not limited to a solitary internship they did in their second year of uni. And they will proceed to further throw rose petals at my feet when they are trying to get a gig as a waiter/waitress in a foreign country and realise that most of the offerings comes with a requirement of previous experience.

Anyway.

Yesterday I had this one-day job involving mailing work. My first sort of casual work in any form, and it was easy, if repetitive. Thoughts gathered throughout the day:

I actually dig repetitive work. It's sort of meditative, much like that serenity experienced when folding a baking mixture (God, I love doing that).
I was getting paid a rather ridiculously large sum for the sort of work I was doing, if I thought about it.
I was working in what I think now of as the 'lawyers area', and couldn't help feel excited that the other people in the exchange I was delivering letters in were all barristers or law clerks. How cool are you people? Or why am I attaching such coolness with you?
By the end of the day I was so tired I couldn't think straight. How could easy work become tiring? And it was cold. And I was hungry. But I got paid. Cha-ching.

Fell asleep at nine, woke up at ten in the morning and let out a yelp of delight when I saw Kelly had made a whole tin-full of chocolate chip cookies. That I now can't stop eating.

Flashback

2011-05-01T13:33:00.004+08:00

Today is a gloomy day, all gray and dark, weather that doesn't encourage excursions outside. I'm half-wishing it would rain, storm, even. Stormy afternoons remind me of our house back in Ampang, when I'd come down to the kitchen to get a snack of some sort, and see it pouring cats and dogs outside the window, or maybe just about to, thunder growling. The front door would be closed of course, mom would open it first thing in the morning and keep it open with her door-stopper, a row of ducks, but in the afternoons she would close it before she went upstairs to her room to rest.

Everything would be dark and muted, the house would be quiet. Perfect time for napping, but I never did. I'd get something to eat from the fridge, maybe leftovers, maybe heat up one of those slices of frozen pizza mom stocked up for us.Then back upstairs to my room, to a good book and a hot snack. Contentment.

Kupasan Kpop

2011-04-22T09:04:00.004+08:00

~~Work applications have been~~

~~My cashflows~~

~~Self-esteem and notions of uselessness are~~

For God's sake, no. No! We shall not partake in such mundane discussions on a public holiday!

Yes, it's Good Friday here in Melbourne, so the shops are closed, the weather is chilly, and I have a tentative notion of doing nothing. Nothing.

While I think of something to type, let me entertain you with Clara C's cover of Rocketeer which is lovely, I'm a sucker for trumpet inclusions.

Things have been..... and here I falter, because I don't really know how things have been. Some inner part of me wants to sit down with you and look you in the eye and say help me, please, please. Another part of me is convinced things are ok, I am on track, and things are ok and will fall into place, I will make them fall into place. Another part of me laughs at the melodrama of it all, sometimes scornfully and with disgust at my foolishness, other times it is less unkind, and it nudges me gently and says this will be regarded with humorous wonder in just a few months from now, I will look back and think it was so amusing how out of sorts I was.

But anyway, how are you? Been occupying yourselves well? This morning I tried going for a run outside at the nearby park, I think time spent jogging solidly barely touched 5 minutes, the majority of the outing was occupied by walking and sitting down on bench reading Around the World in Eighty Days before deciding breakfast was needed.

I wonder, what music do you listen to when jogging? I've posed this question to kakak and my friend Azrieal, the former giving me an answer by saying she has a specific playlist for running without actually detailing said playlist, while the latter gave a more straightforward example of stuff by Sneaky Sound System. I tend to find dance and pop music the best motivators for jogging, something with a solid beat. Other times, I play songs that I imagine I have choreographed something to that I will perform as part of an appearance on a Korean variety show. As ridiculous as that is, it does seem to help distract from the tiredness. Don't kill the daydream of being a kpop idol, yo.

Speaking of kpop, wei! WEI! Some releases have definitely been getting the thumbs up and giddy approval, in my books anyway.

1. Big Bang's Love Song is a go. Sounded very U2. The video is one of the nicest among recent ones, I think, I'm a sucker for semi-slow motion, seemingly one-take shots.

2. Daesung's Baby Don't Cry. This isn't a single, but it's Daesung's solo song in Big Bang's Special Edition album. I was so excited to hear this, because I think at the end of the day I just want a good pop song, which this is. Plus, Daesung has an awesome voice, we all know that. I think he's been given the least amount of solo exposure within the group, but I think things may be turning, did anyone see his scenes in the Tonight video? Wah, when did he become all leading-man material and allowed hot scenes with a female counterpart?

3. Rania's Dr. Feelgood. Say what you want about their image, but I think they're fierce (even though their leather outfits are kind of fugly.I have a thing against the short shorts and boots combination). One thing that puts me off is when a group can't embody whatever concept they're trying to portray. Groups who look awkward and out of place doing cutesy aegyo and 'oppa' stuff, groups who try so hard to be sexy it just falls flat, etc. But with Rania, they totally pulled it off! The song itself is catchy, they all sound like capable singers, the choreography is spot-on, they are in sync and look all empowered. Like they could eat cute-aegyo-doing-girls for breakfast. Like they could bust into the kpop world and show how sexy's supposed to be done. Now if only I could tell the members apart.

4. Brave Girls' Do You Know. Another rookie release I'm excited about, though I was unfortunately disinterested in the follow up song, So Sexy. I like this one though, I think it's really pretty, in an old-school r&b/soul(sebenarnya aku main tibai je cakap genre ni, I could be wrong) fashion, and I'm digging the style and choreography.

Ok. Way too much kpop. Way too much for someone trying to convince strangers to hire her, anyway. Lebih baik pergi makan lunch.

I go a bit mad at the end with all the link-inserting

2011-04-05T21:19:00.002+08:00

In filling out application forms and writing cover letters, I feel like I am straddling a fine line between truth and bullshit. It's like, hello recruitment people, to tell the truth I would like to just say I sincerely think I have what it takes to do this job, could you please hire me? But of course it doesn't work that way, I get it, you need some filter system to detect valid candidates for the job. That's why you have all these questions asking me to describe situations where I faced a difficult task within a team environment, and what personal strengths and skills did I call upon to face it, and how can I apply what I learned from the experience within the workplace, etc.

It's all fine and dandy when you have existing, solid past events that straight-forwardly demonstrate whatever desirable quality you're looking for. But what if most of the events in your life are things that I regard as having stumbled through in a generally clumsy manner? There may have been good conclusions, e.g.: yes, we did get a good score for that assignment, but was it really the straightforward process of situation-conflict-collective actions-results? No. It was more like, situation-conflict-conflict not addressed directly-apathy-let's just get through this-submit-oh! decent score.

Do I have any recent major leadership positions from which I can expound on how I influenced subordinates and catalyzed beneficial changes to the organisation? No. Does that make me feel like I'm not worthy for the job? No. Do I still have to answer the question to submit an application? Yes. And so I end up on my hands and knees, trying to dig up some past situation, however minuscule, however pathetic, that I can wrestle and squeeze and cajole it into forming a charming description that answers the question.

Jeez louise, wei.

It's either I get side-swiped by the idea that my lack of fabulous list of extra-curricular responsibilities and activities means I'm shit.

Or I firmly kick the ass of these notions of inferiority and try my best to fill out this bloody application anyway, and truthfully at that, because goddamn, I know I can be a decent employee. A flawless list of student society leadership positions does not a good employee make! Karate chop!

But on a brighter note, I have amassed a current play list of songs that are just simply fantastic. There's Jamie Cullum's version of Don't Stop The Music, which is just freaking boss, I love it and it increases my love for Keone Madrid and Mariel Martin, because they made this amazing piece of choreography to it. Then there's Robyn's Hang With Me, which is Robyn at her best, I think, she excels at songs like these, sweet and sorrowful and earnest. I love singing along to the "and if you do me right, I'm gonna do right by you" line. Then there's Tommy Sparks' She's Got Me Dancing, which is total eighties flailing music wei, so getting-jiggy-with-it! Then I'm having a belated Killers's phase thanks to playing Tap Tap Revenge on my phone, I am currently hooked on Sweet Talk and Read My Mind. There's also there's a bit of a flashback to Joy Division, Love Will Tear Us Apart is finally being appreciated, why am I so ketinggalan zaman? And let's not forget Cold War Kids' Audience.

Let's have an omelette for lunch, shall we? Yes, let's.

Unrelated picture and daydream sequence no. 1

2011-03-30T08:59:00.004+08:00

Phuket 2010. My siblings found a replacement.

I want to be a celebrity who drives well.

So that I can be invited to be in Top Gear's Star in a Reasonably Priced Car segment.

And achieve a lap time within highest quartile of everyone who has ever done it.

Eh, ada masalah sebenarnya ni

2011-03-26T09:04:00.003+08:00

At the moment, the filing drawer of my mind is in a state of disarray. Contents and are spilling out, things are not arranged according to alphabetical order, files are overstuffed or empty and not categorized correctly. On top of that, there is a layer of dust, the drawers creak and can't shut properly, traces of rust are beginning to show. Everything's a mess.

In the same way substance-abusers think alcohol or drugs make things ok, I've sort of come to grasp coffee meet-ups and sessions at the gym as an excuse to feel things are dandy and thus neglect filing-drawer tidiness. When I go to the gym, I feel productive enough and ludicrously pleased with myself such that I think it's ok I haven't done other things I should be focusing on, like finding a job. When I meet up with a friend for coffee, I'm buoyed by the hit of caffeine and the leisurely chat that accompanies these meet-ups. I am often given the luxury of a sympathetic ear and a kindness that deludes me into thinking my problems are more than just the well-trodden path of self-centered people everywhere.

Houston, we have a problem.

Lawatan Sambil Belajar

2011-03-03T16:38:00.003+08:00

I had to go to the Malaysian High Commission, so I duly booked a seat on the 6.50am flight to Canberra and accordingly another one on a flight coming back to Melbourne at 5pm . Having done the trip before, it wasn't so daunting this time around. It sort of became a leisurely excursion, like one of those day-trips I used to go on during school, except instead of getting on a bus, I got on a plane, and instead of wearing baju outing and kasut PVC with white socks,I got to wear skinny jeans and a cardigan and the really nice purple scarf my mom got for me. Glamorous sungguh sejak dah tak sekolah ni.

Virgin Blue have several flights to and from Canberra throughout the whole day. Who on earth creates the demand for these flights? Business people. Show up at the domestic departure terminal at 5.30am and you'll find the place overrun with people in suits, either carrying just a laptop bag or small, very sleek luggage. Occasionally you'll see a mother and young child, or an unemployed bum like me, but passengers are mostly comprised of professionals, which makes sense, because Canberra isn't exactly a fantastic getaway destination, if you get my drift.

The passenger demographic was reiterated once I'd arrive in Canberra and was queuing up to get a taxi. As I lined up, two things caught my attention. One was the fact that about 4 buses full of military personnel had pulled up to curb next to where the taxi rank was, and I enjoyed a good 15 minutes staring unabashedly as the soldiers spilled out and unloaded their gear, standard-issue army-green duffel bags. The other thing was the realization that I may have indeed been the most exotic creature in the line of people waiting for a cab, such that I was the only one wearing clothing that wasn't gray or black. Amidst the various work attire, my blue cardigan and purple scarf combination was alarmingly conspicuous, like I was a red-bottomed baboon amongst a sea of koala bears.

High Commission of Malaysia. Oh, High Commission of Malaysia.

Suffice to say, I came out of the place at 11.15am with nothing to do and 5 and a half hours before I had to be at the airport for my flight back to Melbourne. What does a girl do when she has 5 hours to kill?

a)She meets an intriguing stranger and they go on a whirlwind tour around the city with a Lost In Translation scene at the end.

b)She kills it. Literally. With a knife, bloody stab wound and all.

c)She joins the Canberra Hare Krishnas.

Oklah, I took the embarrassingly less interesting option and just took a cab to the city center and headed for the shopping mall.

Breakfast

2011-02-12T11:52:00.004+08:00

Yo.

1. I've been seeing the new kids at uni, kids (kids? Am I that old to be calling them that?)carrying files and cameras, walking in large groups, meandering from building to building. Whenever I see them I have this huge urge to burst out laughing, I can't quite prevent a smile from spreading across my face, but I have no idea what's so funny.

2. What has been on the playlist? Melancholia, that's what. Are you, by any chance suffering from unrequited love? A little Kate Nash will help the wallowing.

3. I still resort to having conversations with imaginary people, to an extent that I'm starting to really wonder if it's merely therapeutic or whether it's a sign of early onset schizophrenia. To be fair, I tend to have the conversations with imagined versions of real people, people I know or wish I knew.

4. I've been going through one of those phases where I contemplate the idea of a partner, a kindred spirit. I'm not happy about this, I think I could save a lot of time and grief by not doing so, but it's kind of hard to control what the mind gravitates to when it's idle.

5. One product of being here over the summer has been an introduction to cricket. Coming from someone who had nothing in the data bank about the game except for preconceived notions that it was boring(I'm pretty sure it was dad who recently reiterated the saying that watching cricket is like watching grass grow), I was lucky enough such that my premier exposure to the sport was via watching a proper match at the MCG. It was a match between the Victorian and Queensland teams, and I had my very own cricket guide (in the form of Loges, who'd played the game back in school) to explain each play.

So it's all still pretty new, but I must say, I am baited. I am intrigued. If I were a guy and cricket was a hot chick that flirted with me, I'm asking for her number. In fact, maybe we've progressed and have had a couple dates already. I'm sincerely hoping this infatuation will not burn out.

6. I haven't had goreng pisang for a long time, nor the ludicrously awesome combination of nasi lemak and sambal paru.

Adoi. Nasi lemak and sambal paru.

Peanuts

2011-01-19T09:08:00.002+08:00

I can justify it as much I want, work out a plan of repayment,be aware of how lucky I am that my parents are financially stable and that they are selflessly willing to support me, but the truth is this: I am growing increasingly uncomfortable with how much financial support I need from my mom and dad. My dad, mostly.

When I was a kid, it was taken for granted that my parents would pay for everything I needed. When I was an adolescent, I realized what economic background I came from, and at the same time realized that it was my parents who had money, and I myself was a pauper lucky enough to have a decent lifestyle funded by them. When I was 18, I was grateful my dad had the means to get me into college when I didn't get a scholarship. When I was in uni, I started realizing the need to have enough money in the bank for bills and groceries, and I found out what it's like to be strapped for cash. Call me a slow-learner, but I think I only realized the proper value of money when I came here. Well. Better late then never.

When I finally understood the value of each and every bloody dollar I spent, that's when I actually got into my head the extent of the financial support my dad was providing me. It is slightly overwhelming at times to think of the lump sum he has forked out throughout my time here.

I'm not studying anymore, and now we come to the tricky bit. Now that I'm not studying, every time I get an allowance or money from my dad, my heart feels very heavy.

Wah. Heart feeling heavy. Melodramatic, much?

But I don't know how else to describe it. I suppose there's a good portion of guilt, guilt that I'm an adult who still depends on someone, who, whilst is my own flesh and blood, is essentially a retiree who doesn't need me flushing down his cash.

But there's something else too, and that is, when you have to financially depend one someone, you are indebted towards them. And here, it's not just in terms of cash either, this debt goes beyond that, it involves the selflessness of my dad doing this for me, what it means in terms of our relationship, it goes on top of everything else I already owe to him for being my father. Do you understand?

I suppose that psychologically, this could extend infinitely, but at the moment what I know is I wish wasn't so heavily financially dependent on him anymore. I don't want to burden him anymore, and I want it to be my own money on the line when I mess up, which I seem to have a knack of doing so.

Right now I'm trying to justify and economize whatever major spending I'm doing. But things are popping up, expensive, unavoidable things that there's no way I can pay for myself at the moment. I have to ask for money from my dad, and it just. It just. It makes me unhappy.

It's a temporary thing, I know. This is a necessary route I have to take before I get on my own two feet and start earning an income.

I know.

Ish

2011-01-11T08:50:00.002+08:00

Geez louise, man.

I'm annoyed at myself at the moment, I have made some mistakes that are costing me in terms of money and also in terms of feeling foolish. Part of me is trying to reason with myself, saying I wouldn't have known back then either way, while another is brandishing a rotan like the meanest teacher ever, bellowing "KENAPA LALAI SANGAT ORANG LAIN TAK LALAI PUN?!"

In addition, there is a culmination of irritation that I have bubbling under my skin for some other things at the moment, so when you add the annoyance directed internally as well externally, you end up with a very frazzled looking girl, who harrumphs a lot and lets out occasional "SO STUPID!" exclamations to items that happen to be nearby - chairs, the dryer, my foot.

It's okay. I will harness this anger and put it to good use.

Thankfully enough, the dominant reaction that has been triggered by this spout of anger has been one of grim determination (though I admit, there was that one moment when a bit of hell broke loose and I hysterically stuffed myself with cookies). I intend to bury this mishap with so much bloody productivity that any foolishness felt will die the sudden death of an aneurysm.

I'm on a rampage.

Chris, the operator, apologized profusely

2011-01-05T10:54:00.004+08:00

In a twisted turn of fate, an ATM swallowed my debit card this afternoon.

I called up the bank, and the operator reported my card as lost and issued me a new one. The trouble is, through some misunderstanding (I'd like to think it's his fault as much as mine), he did it for my other, everyday-use ATM card, and not my debit card. After some questioning and a bit more clarification, we realized what had happened and he rectified things by issuing a new debit card as well. As such, I am now effectively ATM as well as debit card-less at the moment.

As I was put on hold while the operator sorted things out, two thoughts emerged:

1. I'm quite complacent (or chicken) about asking questions when I deal with such situations, I usually acquiesce to whatever explanation offered so I can end the conversation quickly. I should ask more questions when I'm not satisfied.

2. There are the good things, the bad things, and then there are things like these. Here, I have lost my cards in this somewhat clumsy fashion and therefore can't use an ATM, pay with EFTPOS, or make payments requiring a credit card for about a week or so before the new cards arrive. Is it a bad thing? No. Is it troublesome? Yes. And herein lies my ponder: I tend to connect things that happen to me directly to God. If it's a good thing, I am thankful; if it's a bad thing, I think it's punishment, or I think it's a way of telling me something. And so when this other category of things happen, minor but troublesome things, I still find myself mildly surprised. I can't conjure a purpose for this event that, asides from inconveniencing me for bit, in effect doesn't alter anything about my life. Why would God bother with small, completely insignificant events?

Of course, that's just my limited imagination talking. I'm sure any transaction, however small, could cause limitless ripples in its impact, though it may not be obvious to me.

Ceh. Tiba-tiba banyak pulak nak cakap kat sini.

Kpop and Beast

2011-01-03T15:33:00.003+08:00

We kick-start 2011's year of kpop with MBLAQ's comeback, a slow/mid-tempo R&B offering called Cry, which I am beginning to just about love. I think it definitely beats anything they've come up with so far, and I thought this one was just ok at first, but until now I find myself replaying it over and over, it seems I can't stop. I think I would have preferred the video and the boys to have been less stylized, for some reason I could totally picture them in my head rocking this song(and garnering dozens of rabid noona fans like me in the process) with a more normal, clean, crisp look and setting. Irregardless, yay! For someone whose kpop spirit is at an all-time high, this is a good start.

I like kpop. I really do. What started off as tentative amusement over youtube videos of korean boybands singing and dancing simultaneously has morphed into bona fide fascination, I now have preferences and opinions regarding specific groups and singers, I regularly watch the weekend slew of music shows, and keep-up with allkpop.com quite religiously.

If this all sounds like a confession, it probably is, because I still tend to want to deny it from time to time. Sometimes I try to delude myself into thinking I take a more mature approach towards my kpop fancy, that I am actually interested in the intricate workings behind the manufacture of a kpop artist and that I pay attention to the details in songs, choreography, the concept adopted, etc. But then I catch myself grinning stupidly in the middle of the night watching fancams of boy groups doing something goofy, and realize I'm just another fangirl.Fan-noona. Oh well.

Current favored kpop tunes:

1.Cry by MBLAQ, obviously.
2. Lights Go On Again by Beast.
3. Niga Jiel Joha by Beast (I swear, 2010 was a really good year for Beast, they could do no wrong).
4. My Mistake by SNSD (I like it as much as I dislike Hoot, and that's a lot).
5. Lightless by Beast. There's a lot of Beast in here, but for good reason, I think. I could write a whole paragraph about them.

In fact, I think I will. Beast has a major portion of my devotion at the moment. They sort of exploded this past year, and the level of popularity they've achieved, considering it's only been slightly more than a year since they debuted, is pretty much something. What's more, I am of the opinion that they deserve it. With the exception of Junhyung who raps, each of them has legit singing chops, each one! Plus, they have dancing confidence. It's one thing to be able pick-up choreography and another to perform it with swag, and while HyunSeung or KiKwang tend to pop out to me more when dancing, it's safe to say they are a pretty evenly-skilled group. And when you pair these abilities with how Cube Entertainment's been handling them, it was pretty much inevitable they'd be big. The recent songs they've been given have been consistently good (I liked every song on the Lights Go On Again mini-album), and they're usually provided with very good choreography. Another plus has been the fact that for their latest release, a digital EP called My Story, they divided up into pairs from which each composed a song that went on the EP. Being directly involved in music production is still somewhat a rarity for kpop artists, more so for the 'idol' groups, so it's a pretty big deal. And yet another plus is the fact that JunHyung, the rapper, has a fundamental place in the group, I don't get the feeling that he's just someone Cube thought could fill in the role of 'rapper' and given only minimal parts in a song to cukup syarat (I'm thinking of Shinee's Minho here, is it obvious?). On top of that, he's been involved as a co-lyricist for the group's songs since the second EP.

Geez. I sure can gush about them, can't I? That was a long paragraph.

I get sick of kpop sometimes. When it seems like every new single sounds like the same manipulated, forgettable electro-pop crap, or when I dislike the image promoted,for example, it's too sickly-sweet, too sexy in unoriginal fashion, or too amusingly out of place(2pm's shuffling dance, anyone?). But despite the lapses, I find myself gravitating back towards it, and when something from the kpop scene appeals to me, I am happy, and all previous misgivings are forgotten.

I guess this infatuation's here to stay.

Baru

2011-01-02T07:10:00.003+08:00

When we were in Christchurch, we just so happened to be there at a time the city was experiencing a bunch of earthquake aftershocks. They were pretty minor, the biggest being 4.9 on the scale, but for someone not used to the idea that the ground can start shaking against your will, and that it's not something you can escape from, it's quite unnerving. We were in a shop when the 4.9 tremor happened, I was with my brother and sister in this quirky shop, and I was slipping a ring onto my finger to try it on, when suddenly the earth starts rumbling, and for a moment I didn't quite believe it, but then things started falling off shelves and crashing onto the floor, I turned around and saw a lady running out the entrance. Next I felt my sister pulling me out, and I whipped my head back to find my brother and saw that he was on my other side. And as we were running outside for some reason my head was tilted slightly upwards, and I remember thinking, feeling, "Really? This is what it feels like? Are we really about to be people whom Something Tragic happens to?". When we got outside to open space with everyone else, I noticed I was still clutching the ring.

Like I said, they were minor tremors and no big deal, we were able to laugh about it, but boy, was I glad to come back to Melbourne.

Our trip was plagued with cancellations, but asides from that, I think things went pretty smoothly. And there were some nice moments. Like waking up in the middle of the night in Mt Cook to the wind howling outside the chalet and a cupboard door banging repeatedly. I tried to close the damn thing tight but couldn't, because it was too high up, so instead I walked over to the window and peeked through the curtains. I was granted with the sight of a full moon hanging over snow-capped mountains, it's shine giving everything a surreal sheen, with the wind still howling about, and it was all slightly magnificent.

I'm not exactly one for taking pictures or videos, I probably have one of the most underused cameras ever to be bequeathed to a 22-year old. The simple reason is that I'm lazy and that I can count on my companions to take nicer pictures, the other being that for videos, whenever I'm recording, I feel like I'm wasting time trying to capture whatever it is I'm supposed to be documenting when I could actually be there,in the moment, experiencing, feeling. This doesn't apply to all situations, of course, mostly for when I attend gigs. Though now, I'm beginning to wonder whether it's silly to take this stance. By not recording, I'm depending on my memory to hold whatever I witnessed safe within its confines, I'm basking on the belief I'll never forget. But that's folly, isn't it? I'll forget, and what a shame.

Just got a thought. I've been writing all this with Florence + The Machine's Dog Days Are Over on repeat, and while it is too quiet and lazy a day to do much, I have that familiar urge to leap up and start dancing, hands clapping to the beat, spastic flailing. I've begun to sometimes worry that I'm getting too monotonous, too black and white, that my sense of fun is depleting, any originality and uniqueness of character(if any) going down the drain. The thought just popped into my head that as long I still get the urge to dance, this familiar longing to go crazy to the beat, I'll be okay. Not all is lost.

Happy New Year!

I've graduated.

I've got to get out of these pajamas.

2010-12-11T13:57:00.002+08:00

Some of the best compliments I've ever received, I think, are the ones from people who've read my blog and say I write well. Now, the veracity of this statement is obviously debatable and, I would be the first to admit, flawed. But I am always very happy when some kind person says it, it leaves me positively chuffed to find that one of the scraps of nonsense I've written has managed to tug the interest of another being.In fact, I suspect if you ever needed to sweet-talk me for anything, start with such a comment and you're already halfway there.

Thank you to those who ever said so. It meant a lot to me.

Dark clouds rolling in

2010-11-30T19:32:00.002+08:00

I liked today!

Today was unexpected good weather, and a trip to the market which yielded lots of summer fruits. Strawberries, mangoes, nectarines, cherries, yum. A sense of a productiveness, a purchase of things to read, breakfast-turned-brunch-turned-lunch meet up with 2 fascinating people in a nice cafe, banana bread and maple syrup, a walk back to the city that segued into a stroll through a park, and a sprawling out on green grass, sunglasses perched on the nose and their voices mingling and comforting, a lazy sense of drowsiness and ease. Then, iced-chocolate and then dinner and a walk back home, and all throughout the day my meals were paid for by generous people. How could I not like it?

Damn, I've had it going good! I must say thank you to God for that. Yes, I'm still worried about The Job and the growing amount of expense projections I'll have to present to dad, but these past few days have been very nice. Why?

1. The weather has been up and down, rain showers here and there, but all in all it has accumulated into an average weather of slightly sunny days which are not too hot.

2. The people I've been spending time with are people I am comfortable around and find fascinating, I am at ease with them and they provide good conversation such that I find myself blabbing about things like religion, and relationships, and tentative mentions about(ooooh!) sex. Me! Mentioning sex in conversation! To another person! Liberating? Inappropriate?

3. My family will be here in a couple weeks and I am SO EXCITED I cannot stop being excited. Part of me is scared that being over-eager will jinx things and the whole trip will backfire, but no, I am still excited. I really hope it works out well, that everyone enjoys themselves and that we have well-spent fun. I've been a planning whore, mapping out the trip itinerary using Excel, wielding funds provided by my dad like some crazed travel agent to book tickets, activities, car rentals, thinking of places to eat, wondering if I've worked out the hook turn when driving in the city, etc.

4. I bought this book which is a collection of essays by Greg Saunders, and it's proving to be an interesting, if not entertaining read.

5. An Interesting Encounter happened yesterday in the form of a young, boyish-looking missionary from the States who asked me if I believed in God and attempted to convey how he feels God's love through the Holy Ghost, I think that's how he put it? I asked him a couple questions, which he readily answered. It wasn't, unfortunately, enlightening in the sense that it piqued or furthered my existing considerations about faith and religion. When I asked him if I needed to be a Christian to be considered good he let out a laugh, as if slightly surprised by the question, and gave a polite answer that, while promoting the peacefulness of his faith, ultimately skirted what I was asking.

To be honest, I was more interested in asking about him. Why does he do what he do? Where does he get the courage to go up to complete strangers, some who may be hostile to the very idea of organised religion, to spread the word about Christianity? Why do missionaries always have to wear ties and shirts and socks and laced-up black shoes, even when it's really hot and it must be so uncomfortable to do so? Where does the solidness of his faith come from? Was there a specific event or did it just manifest softly?

But I didn't ask any of those questions, and after leaving me with a number on the back of a cardboard picture of Jesus Christ so I can call 'whenever I want to talk or learn more about God', he shook my hand in that very polite way of his, told me to have a nice day, and went on his way.

Oklah, bye.

Flying stringrays

2010-11-23T21:19:00.002+08:00

I have to go to Okinawa one day. To see this.

And it won't be like the video, with the soft song in the background magnifying the serene whale sharks and flying stingrays. It will be more matter-of-fact, more people posing against the glass taking pictures, or marveling with a much repeated comment, but still. I have a feeling it will still be pretty good.

I have some really good friends. The kind that stay quiet and listen to me as I sigh and moan for the umpteenth time over my so-called predicaments. Who reserve their own judgment to let me vent, who offer reassuring words and sound advice. For that I am grateful, and for that I'll try to change.

They are kind. They spoil me. They make me feel like I'm a primary character, instead of an extra.

I must admit, I am worried, this period between undergraduate studies and working life is a bit nerve-wracking, and I have frazzled thoughts,procrastination, and disheveled hair. But I suppose it's no more than anyone else in my position would be feeling, so biarlah macam tu and let's chill for a moment. Watch fish in Okinawa.

Side-tracked

2010-10-10T20:51:00.004+08:00

Tak boleh concentrate doh.

Aku nak belajar. Tapi aku tak faham apa aku tengah belajar. Jadi aku berhenti belajar lepas tu aku baca blog orang lain. Lepas tu aku marah diri sendiri suruh pergi belajar, lepas tu aku belajar, lepas tu aku tak faham apa aku tengah belajar, maka aku berhenti belajar dan pergi baca blog orang lain. Dan seterusnya, dan seterusnya.

There's that part in A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby where Martin states that ladders is what it all comes down to and how you can reduce the biggest topics to the tiniest parts. I thought of that, and I thought about my own life, and then I summed it up to magic.

Magic. What a flimsy, la-di-da term. But it's the best one I could think of.

Listening to a really good song is magic. Not just a good song. A song that gets you. You understand, right? We've all listened to a song like that. A song that wraps around your soul and squeezes until you want to burst. That's magic.

Open communication with my dad. Realizing the extent of my love for my mom, how vivid and solid and real it is, even though I never say it out loud, even though we never express it in speech. That's magic.

Praying in Makkah, where it felt like when you spoke to God, it was a direct conversation, He was close and listening. Your faith was unshakeable , you couldn't see how you could ever falter again after this, you were sure that you could be better, that you would be.

Do you see? It felt like magic.

Music and religion. When I was in high school, it was pounded into me that music-unless nasyid-and religion don't go together. I remember my ustazah saying how we shouldn't listen to our walkmans before falling asleep, how if we were to somehow die in our sleep after doing that, we would "mati secara sia-sia". There was at some point talk about how we're not supposed to play string instruments or something? And the same principle applies to dance. Dance? Are you out of your mind? WE CAN'T DANCE. Dance is sexual. Dance is maksiat. Dance is wrong.

Fucking apeshit!

Sorry. But whenever I think of such memories from high school, I get angry.

High school was where I learnt religion. Of course there was Pendidikan Islam in sekolah rendah, a bit of sekolah agama, the Qur'an lessons before that. But here I was properly thrust into a practicing environment. Before I entered high school,I couldn't even recite the Ayat Kursi by heart,and I had stopped reading the Qur'an since I khatam-ed, making me quite rusty.

In high school, I was introduced to Allah in a specific way, I was drilled with the dos and don'ts of a muslimah. 5 years in a boarding school instilled a very regimented approach to God. This is right, this is wrong. Islam is correct, other religions are not.

As I grow older, I seem to come to the conclusion that a lot of what I was told, what the ustaz and the ustazah said; doesn't make sense. Like the whole music thing. If we were to accept it at a purely superficial level and generalize that music and religion are contradictory, then I'm fucked. And it also boils down to a more fundamental level. I don't see why Allah would put a decent person in hell just because that person was born into a different religion. And it relates to how everything is pre-destined, which is another topic I find myself struggling with, I grapple with the technicalities of it.

Faith. My faith is there, but it's in a manner that is different to what I've been taught, so it flexes and struggles and throws itself against the different chambers of my heart. Sometimes it is exasperating and frustrating and contradictory and I wish I could just consult someone and ask "Is this right?Is this ok? Will I go to hell?". I try to reconcile what I know and what I think I believe, and it's a mess usually, but sometimes it works out ok. If I'm lucky,it all just falls into equilibrium.

I don't want to go to hell. I want to be good and be happy doing so. That's pretty much it, basically.

I want to have a Wall of Stuff too

2010-10-05T08:50:00.002+08:00

Right?
Right you are!

When I feel incompetent, I do organizing work. I rearrange the things on my desk, sort out papers, do my filing, clean the apartment, send out the recyclables, refold my clothes. Storage solutions make me happy. Since I don't have money to get proper storage supplies from shops, I tend to resort to shoe boxes.

I have a lot of shoe boxes in my room.

My exam starts in about a month.

If I concentrate properly, if I stop being incompetent and fully pitch in to get my shit together academically, I think I can do it.

So. Are you ready to fully pitch in and get your shit together Atiqah?

Yes. I think. I mean, yes. THUNDERCATS ARE GO!

Baik, sungguh baik

2010-09-30T09:39:00.003+08:00

Right now:

I don't know why, but I have a very distinct urge to make the proclamation that my favourite Daft Punk single is Something About Us. There is no point or or objective at all in doing so, but I REALLY just wanted to state this, I feel like I have to get it out of my head and have someone acknowledge that 'ok, your favourite Daft Punk single is Something About Us. Now back away, crazy girl'.

Aside from that, I'm in a slight tizzy. Yesterday I had a double dose of organic delight, in the form of a book and a couple of songs via La Blogotheque videos. You know the kind. The ones that make you feel like your mind/intellect/emotion/thought/feeling/soul are plants that have been given a good drink from the watering-can of Goodness.

I wish I could be more distinct with my praise, that I could outline methodically and rationally why it's good, what segregates it from the rest. I guess sometimes I think if I can explain step-by-step why I like something, then that feeling must be justified, it's not a blind fancy or a statement of preference simply because it would be cool to say I like so-and-so. On the other hand, whenever I think this, another part of me raps metaphorical knuckles on my head and berates myself, 'Hello. Why so complex like that?'. Which makes sense. If I like it, then I like it la kan? It's a gut feeling. Why the need to explain?

Oh well. All I know is, I finished the book and went 'wow' quietly. And the videos!The first was a new song by The Morning Benders. When I heard the opening notes of the song I knew I'd like the whole thing(don't you love it when that happens?).

As a side-note, I have a slight crush on Jon Chu(the other guitarist/backup singer, the one not wearing glasses). Another piece of irrelevant information I insist on sharing. You can lump it together with my favourite Daft Punk single.

The other was a rendition of Light of Day by The Plastics Revolution. Mexico City + playing on the river + smiling mariachi band = Epic. It makes me happy. And yes! I AM going to embed the video here!

As always, I think the quality of La Blogotheque videos are sublime.

Sigh. So good, so good.

Sputnik Sweetheart

2010-09-29T11:31:00.003+08:00

When the book you are reading starts off with the line:

In the spring of her twenty-second year, Sumire fell in love for the first time in her life.

...and you yourself are in your twenty-second year, staying somewhere where spring has just arrived; and are admittedly hoping to fall in love for the first time in your life, you wouldn't blame yourself for getting a sudden self-conscious jolt, would you?

Thanks, Mr. Murakami.

Belum Lagi

2010-09-22T11:32:00.004+08:00

Laura Marling's New Romantic was the first song I'd heard in a while that made me want to know the lyrics right away and sing along, word for word. With lines like 'but my mind has fucked me over more times than any man could ever know' and 'I'm sorry to whichever man, to meet my sorry state', how could I resist the melancholy?

I love that scene in Almost Famous, where Will finds out that he gets another 1000 words for his article on Stillwater, and he goes to Russell's hotel room to get on with the interview and finds a 'do not disturb' sign taped on the door and Russell in one of his elusive moods yet again. Will flips a finger at the door, kicks the laundry bags he's been carrying, and collapses on an armchair outside of Russell's room. He looks at the piece of paper he'd brought for the interview as the house-keeping lady passes by, giving him a curious glance, and then he cradles his head in his hand and starts crying. I really do like that scene, it mirrors that overwhelming feeling everyone gets once in a while.

It may seem weird, but SNSD's Tell Me Your Wish(Genie) struck a chord with me. The first couple of lines from the chorus translates to 'That's right, I love you, always believe in me. My dreams, my passions, I want to give them all', and from a very mushy and jiwang perspective, doesn't that sound sweet? In my head, it's like realizing you love someone and making some grand proclamation of it to let them know. "THAT'S RIGHT! I LOVE YOU!BAM!". In fact, it made me like the song so much that I overlooked how the rest of the song talks about how the girl wants to be a genie for the boy(seriously. As much as I try, I must admit it does leave the mind to think of double entendres) and the fact that the producers insisted on SNSD giggling unnecessarily at some parts.

I'm on break at the moment, and I believe I'm enjoying it a bit too much. If laziness and gluttony equal happiness, then I must be overjoyed. Yesterday for dinner I inhaled a box of Shapes and a couple of oranges, and normally I'd be horrified but common sense, mine at least, is right now on holiday. In fact I have a vision of Common Sense as a person in my head and she is a 6-year-old girl in a pinafore and pigtails skipping along with a lollipop in hand, so you can imagine the amount of good she's doing for me presently. But I am happy, I must admit. I was watching and hearing Kelly and Logs squabble over how to work the pepper grinder and cook fried glass noodles and couldn't stop a huge grin from spreading across my face.

Oklah. Nak pergi main game.

Sometimes, I still need you

2010-09-04T23:25:00.004+08:00

I was supposed to go to sleep, and I had set my alarm clock(alarm phone?) and gotten beneath the covers. Then I found myself thinking and I felt wide awake and then thought to write something here.

It's pretty windy outside.I hope it's warm enough on Raya to not have to wear a coat. What's the point of wearing a nice bright baju kurung if I have to cover it up?

One thing that popped into my head was a memory of Jijim and I attempting high-impact aerobics via youtube videos. And also playing tennis with him on the Wii and attempting a killer forehand which somehow ended up with me spinning around, toppling over and crashing into the TV table. I miss my brother.

Other things that occupied the mind were regular things, nothing out of the ordinary. Things to study, work to get done, apprehension, weight musings (I am always tempted now and again to do The Weight Post. Sometime soon.), applying for jobs, what to eat for sahur, etc.

Today was ok, today was an optimistic day. Some days(though decreasingly so, I must admit) I feel like I am the queen of Can Do and I can take on the world, other days I have a realistic but still determined ambition for what I want, when things go awry I can pick myself up and dust myself off. What puzzles me is sometimes it can be the other way around, and so extremely at that. Putrid days. Days where I describe myself as putrid, where I can't pick myself up. I'm becoming scared of them, which worries me, if only because it seems to imply that I'm treating them as permanent fixture, something I am certain will come around, no escape.

Someday I won't be so self-centered and stop talking about myself so self-indulgently here and in such a ludicrously self-pitying manner, but until then.

p/s: In kpop related news, I'm trying to channel Park Kahi(the goddess!) every time it's time for dance practice. Ultimate fail on my part, but I try. Also, I now have an unabashed crush on Lee Seung Gi. I love My Girlfriend Is A Gumiho, I have become a total Korean pop culture freak, and there's not much anyone can do about it.

Holy stapler, it really is windy outside.

Ouch

2010-08-30T08:31:00.003+08:00

1. Woke up this morning feeling scared. Then somehow it flipped over and I was singing along to Laura Marling and SNSD while taking down posters from my wall.

2. YESTERDAY WAS MY SISTER'S BIRTHDAY! As we all know, I think my sister's pretty rad. In lieu of giving a present(because I'm broke like that), I tend to commemorate her birthday on the blog via really bad poetry(oklah, baru sekali je pernah buat, but maybe I'll make it an annual thing. The horror!)

The time has come
~~the walrus said~~
For me to do The Annual Tribute.
Where I say things and tell the tales
the world cannot refute.

About the girl who joined the world
In August of '85.
The girl whose torment of how many years
I commendably have survived.

But yes! She isn't always nice
She can be mean, and that's a fact.
Or maybe I'm just being dengki here
'Cause until now, she can't get fat.
(Whereas I can eat empty air
and end up like an obese cat).

Anyway.

She tells me that I drive so slow
"Like a makcik", I think she said.
And the time she said my cake was ugly
I wanted to bash her in the head.
(Sorry for the aggressive sentiments
But with baking I see red).

There was one time(and recently too!)
where we fought while I was driving.
Other drivers must have been perplexed
to see these two girls crying.

And we've been emailing each other less this year,
a fact that fills me with rue
But despite these things, I'm sure you know
That of course, I still miss you!

That I'd rather be bursting into your room
And crash-landing on your bed with glee.
And instead of being poor
I'd rather ask you to belanja me.

I'd rather be home,complaining you're slow
While helping mom make chicken pie.
And I'd rather be making you laugh at my jokes
Than typing all of this with a sigh.

Happy birthday kakak!You are still awesome,
I know that this is true.
And I couldn't think up two more lines for this verse
My poem is a failure, boo.

May you be blessed and graced
With all the things that make you happy.
And now I'll stop before things get
Unbearably sappy.

Joyeux Anniversaire!

Ok nak pergi buat tutorial bye.

2010-08-27T11:24:00.003+08:00

I just picked up a parcel at the post office that contained my baju kurung raya, a raya card with individual messages from the family(you guys chose the nicest raya card out of the pack for me,right?), and a smuggled packet of Brahim's kuah rendang.

I'm going to miss them on Raya. I miss them right now. RIGHT NOW!

Feel

2010-08-24T17:50:00.004+08:00

I really wanted to talk to someone after I got out of there! Almost immediately after I left, I started chuckling, I was giggling, and I felt infuriated at the same time, it was ridiculous and therefore funny. It was realistic and disillusioning and expected. How disappointing, how shatteringly funny.

I came out onto the street bursting to talk to someone, I wanted to have someone beside me to whom I could explode and voice out all my thoughts, the kind of conversation that would involve crazy hand gestures, high-pitched, incredulous exclamations, some slight hopping up and down, a genuine disregard for what the people around me might make of this lunatic I'd become. I wanted to be animated, I wanted someone in front of me to bear witness to this, I couldn't remember the last time I had so forceful an opinion I just had to make clear to someone, just for the sake of sharing this experience.

It felt like I'd been in a coma, being kept alive on feigned nonchalance, feigned interest, and feigned surprise, the mundane monotony of trying to match circumstances with the socially correct stock of reactions. Express suitable level of awe here, try to pass off friendly response there, attempt politeness, nod in understanding.

How silly. How sad.

But I didn't talk to anyone, and by the time I was sitting in the tram to go home, the last vestiges of the feeling were draining out, as I rested my head against the window.

You know what else I've been thinking? I've been hoping I'd be able to write something beautiful. If I can write something beautiful, something that draws you in, something that distracts you from your current happiness/sadness/indifference, something that feels like the silence that rings in your ears before you fall off the precipice.

I think I'd be happy if I could do that.

The usage of profanity when writing and also inside my head has been increasing, it worries even me.

Just about as much right as pigs have to fly

2010-08-15T04:42:00.003+08:00

Having never read the original Alice In Wonderland before, when I came across it while trying to look for something to read in the library(useless fact #967:It takes me ages to choose a book to read. Indecisiveness is the new procrastination), I grabbed it with my grubby fingers and went off.

It somehow annoys me when people say that Lewis Carroll must have been doing LSD when writing the book, even when in jest, simply because it seems to imply no sane, sober person could have crazy awesome imagination. I may be arriving at this conclusion belatedly, but I think I love this book! Caterpillars smoking hookah pipes, babies that turn into pigs, grinning disappearing cats, a mouse that takes offense easily. The dialogue of the characters, the weirdness of it all. The Disney movie was always a favourite, but the book is more eccentric, disturbingly so at times. And Alice is different, she is ridiculous and likeable and she argues with herself and overall I quite like her. I don't know if I would have liked the book as a child, but I do now. I wonder if Jijim's read it.

It helps that the copy I've borrowed is an old, small, almost pocket-sized version, with yellowed pages and the apparently original illustrations by John Tenniel. It doesn't say when it was published, and the book's been rebounded by the library, so the cover's completely blank except for the title and author printed on the spine. It adds to the experience of reading it, I think.

Anyway. Have a nice Sunday.

Il pleut

2010-08-11T08:09:00.003+08:00

I slept for 9 hours yesterday. Holy cow yeah man.

I need some new mind-blowing music. Mind-blowing. Plenty of decent stuff, but I haven't heard anything new that makes me want to gobble it up or liquidize it and consume it intravenously so that it would be part of my blood, that kind of mind-blowing. Maybe it's because I've been listening to too much kpop (the 'Kpop' playlist has been growing steadily), I must stop. But, while we're on the topic, my favored song by the hairless dancing adolescent variety at the moment is She's Back by Infinite(rookie group,ftw!).

Selamat berpuasa to those who do so! Seeing as how my demons seem to get the best of me most times, Ramadhan is a welcomed period.

You know how there are some people who take to cutting themselves? Well, I'm nowhere near that stage, but I think I have the much(much,much) watered down version in the form of looking up pictures of food when I'm fasting. I was doing the whole last-minute ganti puasa thing, and more often than not, whenever I was on the laptop, I found myself googling up recipe/cooking blogs, and savoring pictures of nasi lemak, nasi beriyani, sesame and soy sauce chicken, pau buns, banana bread, etc. I would look at these pictures, feel my taste buds pop out of my very head, and then contemplate how long it would be before I buka. Why inflict this self-torture(if you can call it torture?). I don't know. It was particularly pointless, given that when I buka pun, it would be with a self-cooked meal tasting of either oyster sauce, kicap manis, ketchup, chilli sauce, or a combination of any of these sauces(my cooking skills are as stunted as ever). It's not as if I'd get anywhere near the gastronomic heaven of nasi tomato and ayam masuk madu anyway.

It's pretty gloomy outside today.

I want scones. And I want durian.

Grown-ups

2010-08-04T16:25:00.002+08:00

Hi.

I feel like I want to vomit out words, but strangely can't construct my thoughts as my fingers lightly brush the keyboard, awaiting orders.

Part of me wants to join the mad rush for the job search. Go to information sessions! Find out who's hiring international students! Do I need PR? Hurry up, Ayang, it's time to grow up. It's time to be a grown-up. It's time to know what to do.

Part of me sneaks glances at the faces around me in the theater, all attentive and ambitious, go-getter faces, asking questions, reassuringly confident with their abilities. I feel like a kid attending a grown-up event.At a friend's place I watch as my newly-made acquaintances talk about future plans and career paths, job options and bonds with sponsors, a million and one abbreviations and acronyms. These are people my age, and yet I feel infinitely childish compared to them, I don't know where I'm going, I don't know what I'm doing.

Part me just sits back and watches. I know it would be effective to start scouting around now, but this part of me is defiant. I have played it by the textbook so far-got decent grades, got into uni, not flunk anything, did the internship. Can I buck convention this time? I imagine my relatives asking me what I plan to do after this and me stubbornly sticking out my chin and saying "I haven't thought about it yet". And when they start giving me advice, what company I should join, what accreditation I should get, I'll cut in and say "Actually kan, I want to be a go-go dancer. Accounting is no longer my calling".

Some part of me has conceded that I am not terribly smart, not as smart as I thought I was anyway(oh, the perasan-ness), and part of me is fully aware that I am still a social retard. Another part of me has maintained a sense of vanity or conviction, I'm not sure, that I have something to offer employers, that I CAN do a good job, even if I don't know what that job is yet.

All this talk of jobs and future options. Tutors and lecturers and information session coordinators are encouraging us to ask them things we want to know about their profession or field of lecture, each time they extend this offer I want to go up and ask them "Are you happy?". And I don't mean this cynically at all, I genuinely want to know. I don't know why I'm so obsessed with the happiness factor, why I am so scared or certain work means being unhappy. Is it because my dad seemed so unhappy with his? I was talking with an acquaintance I met while I was in Canberra doing my passport, and somehow I actually blurted out the question, I asked him if he was happy with his job at the bank. He considered my question carefully before answering, that was nice of him.

I know I'm making everything sound like a downer, but it's all good, in a way. Having to think about this fork in the road, it brings up questions and it makes me second-guess myself, but not necessarily negatively. Maybe thinking about growing up is in itself part of growing up?

Confession. That scene in Fight Club where Marla says the reason why she goes to support group meetings is because when people think you're dying, they actually listen to you, instead of just waiting for their turn to speak, remember that? I'm pretty sure I do this sometimes, I don't listen. Sometimes I'm in a conversation,saying something, and I realize I haven't been attentive of my companion, that I keep drawing the conversation back to myself. I realize that, and then feel obnoxious as the words come out of my mouth.

Second confession. Sometimes, when I'm out and don't have my journal on me but suddenly have the urge to write things down, I end up scribbling on the back of receipts. I have this daydream of accidentally leaving one of the receipts in some public area(usually the library) and have someone find it and read it and not think it's stupid. And anytime I find folded up paper left on the tables in the library, I open it up hoping it would be something similar, written by someone else. It's a very Postsecret fantasy, I admit.

Oklah, nak kena pergi siapkan kerja rumah. I managed to vomit out quite a few words after all.

Group assignments

2010-07-29T09:19:00.004+08:00

One thing about this semester that makes me happy, really happy, is the fact that there are no group assignments, just one teeny weeny tax law question-solving to be done in pairs.

No group assignments! If this were a cheesy mat salleh movie, this would be the point where the gospel choir music blares out ('HAAAALLELUJAH!'), but it's not. I'm still very glad though, I could do a little jig. I would, if I weren't sprawled out on my bed.

This is a shameful attitude to adopt of course, I am very aware any smart alec could whip out the numerous statistics and facts on how potential employers prefer graduates that have strong teamwork abilities and cooperative skills, etc, but still. I understand that my anti-teamwork stance is detrimental in the long run, but allow me to bask in this pleasure for a moment.

Went to the library for the first time in a long time yesterday, to check out my textbooks, and while looking at it from the outside I had this weird daydream to light up a cigarette and smoke. This would be followed by a scene where I warily eye the building and adopt a Russian accent to say something along the lines of "Why hello comrade. We meet again".

Which may be a tad weird, but the library is, after all, my partner in battle, and judging by my subjects, I have an arduous duel against my studies up ahead. I had my first lecture for Derivative Securities yesterday, and while I was tempted by sexy terms like 'the Monte-Carlo Simulation' and 'swaps'(I don't know, it sounds cool), by the second half of the lecture I was already struggling, grappling with what my lecturer was explaining on complex payoffs.

Anyway, now I'm going to do one of those things where people talk about something personal and you have no idea what they're talking about, which makes it quite annoying. But anyway.

It was very silly of me to hold you constant, as if to presume you wouldn't have new experiences or meet new people. I will stop thinking that anything you write is for my benefit.

Hooray, I'm glad to get that off my chest. I have to go for a lecture now, be well jellybeans.

The rebound

2010-07-25T22:08:00.006+08:00

Err.

Sorry. For some reason some part of me insists on keeping it up as what, I don't know. Some testimony that I was ridiculously melodramatic, as some sort of stubborn justification that I did indeed mean what I'd written, I don't know. Bear with me.

It may seem deceiving though, it sounds as if the post before the last was some starting point that led to a continuous boil up of thoughts up to a point the kettle of feelings spontaneously combusted. It conjures a picture of a frazzled, hysterical person constantly on the verge of tears and a stone's throw away from bashing their head in with the metaphorical shovel of self-loathing. No lah. My attention span is way too short for that sort of sustainability of emotion. Yes, I felt(feel) like I was(am) crap quite a substantial amount of times throughout these past couple weeks, but not all the time. Plenty of nice parts during these last few days of holidays.

I'm listening to Love Song by Khalil Fong right now, have you heard of him? Lagu dia macam dengar cokelat, it's all smooth and slow and chillaxed and chocolatey.

New semester, new semester. Final semester. Aigoo.

Anyway.

Current favourite article of clothing: An electric blue long cardigan I got for 15 dollars last month.

Most recent baking attempt: Chocolate molten lava cake. Needs work.

Current pressing mission: To ganti puasa before it's time to puasa.

Most recently completed drama series: Cinderella's Sister(Holy schmoley, I get annoyed with all dramas-korean or otherwise-after a certain point, but this one had a couple of scenes that I thought were good. They were touching, to use the cliched term.

Current objective for the final semester: To do everything I am capable of.

Most recent reiteration of dispelled notions: Pillow fights are NOT fun. Why mass media portrays it as somethings fun and light and innocent is beyond me. A single 'whomp' to the face made me realize it soon enough. Sakit doh. But I suppose it would be less painful with pillows stuffed with down feathers.

Okay. Thank you for reading. Go off and play.

In which the shit hits the fan

2010-07-19T17:27:00.005+08:00

How's the reflecting going? Slowly. I'm chicken shit to face myself, to be honest. Scared to realize I'm drifting away from God, scared to realize I'm a procrastinator, scared to realize that I'm not a good friend, scared to realize I'm letting things slide by. It's so much easier to just stream the next video, to think of the next thing to bake, to get groceries, to listen to the next song, to read a book.

Ya Allah. Ya Allah. Why are even thoughts self-conscious? Why am I so bloody self-conscious?

What will wake me up? Why am I so stubborn, so fixed in these ways, I am deteriorating and allowing myself to be swallowed up, what the fuck am I doing?

In spite of the screwed up frame of mind and the mess of things I've done, I seem to have this unerring belief that I can fix it, that it will be okay, if only I could get my act together. If I get my prayers intact, if I apologize to these people, if I get off my lazy arse and really put my mind to things, it will all be okay, and I won't be stupid enough to have to have something awful happen before I change.

Depressingnye post ni. Get a grip, Atiqah. Go to bed.

Abaikan semua ni. Kepala aku tengah tak betul. It's 4.33 am in the morning and I'm listening to LCD Soundsystem as I type this, I don't want it to be quiet. Maybe this whole post is for show, maybe it has dredges of sincerity, maybe I can switch off the music and climb into bed and keep these thoughts intact as I wait for sleep to take me in. Maybe I'll change tomorrow.

Drowning my sorrows in kpop and chocolate milk

2010-07-07T22:30:00.002+08:00

I just got back from a trip to Central Australia.

I thought about some things there, though not much. It was snatches of ideas and a bit of contemplation, the mind was thankfully occupied by bus trips and hikes, cold temperatures and kind, funny people.

I want to describe it all, but I have this tendency of skipping event-reporting in favour of other, more frivolous topics. Anyway, let's get some documentation going.

The colours we saw were amazing.

There was a day of blue, blue, BLUE skies, without a single cloud at all, and it made me think of mom, because she always likes a blue sky.

The colour of that red dirt out in the bush is really something. It is a rich, earthy red and brown, and it slides through your fingers and gets into your shoes and contrasts against the sky so vividly, there really is nothing like it.

The sunsets. I've always appreciated how Melbourne sunsets are different from those back home, but out where we were it was a whole new level, streaks of yellow orange and purple and magenta and blue that was beautiful. While watching a sunset at Uluru I was more busy taking pictures of the skyline than of the rock itself.

I saw the most stars I'd ever seen in a night sky out there, probably almost every single constellation. It was a sight that made me think about God, if only for a bit.

...

I have some serious reflection to do at the moment, and I don't want to do it, I'd rather watch kpop videos and drink another carton of chocolate milk, but I have to. At some points my temper flares up in the face of these circumstances and I have this urge to inflict emotional pain, I want to say "fuck you" to something or someone, using the words in all it's full-flavoured hate, and watch that person or thing shrivel up and die inside.

But those urges die quickly, and mostly I realize something's wrong here and I need to work things out.

I need to work things out.

Ceh, gila melodramatic aku ni.

Tout ira bien

2010-06-22T15:50:00.003+08:00

There's a bakery near my apartment that I frequent.

Here's what I like to do. I like to walk the few blocks up to the bakery, listening to music as I do so, even though it really isn't that far and I'd have to put away the music player in my bag once I'm there.

When I get there, I order a coffee, which will never vary beyond a choice between a cappuccino and a mocha. This is because these are the only two types of coffee I know. Cappuccino because my parents always order a cappuccino on our occasional visits to a cafe, and mocha because it's 'the one with chocolate in it'. Occasionally I tell myself to be brave and go for something else (a flat white in particular, I'm quite curious to see if it will taste any different), but whenever I look into the attentive face of the person taking my order and open my mouth, it never materializes. One cappuccino/mocha it is, then.

If things were going well, it would be breakfast time, and I would have an excuse to get a chocolate croissant. And this will not be the best chocolate croissant in the world, but at that moment, it will be pretty damn close.

I'll take my coffee and my chocolate croissant and sit somewhere alone, and there, I will try to navigate the delicate balance between eating, drinking, and keeping the book I'm reading or homework I'm doing clean. It is often a futile war(food:568, Atiqah:0), but I keep doing it, and there, while my cup is still half full and I have a big portion of croissant left to eat, I am content.

And perhaps it is content in one of the sincerest ways I can grasp. It's not the same as happiness that comes from,say, watching korean movies(a very trivial excuse for happiness, but there you have it). I mean, that cheers me up, can't deny that, but it's the sort of cheer that is hollow inside, if that makes sense.

I think it makes me happy because I don't think beyond whatever I'm reading and the the idea of licking the milk foam covered with cocoa powder off my teaspoon. Oklah, that's not true. I do think of other things, like how nice the pasta salad the girl next to me is eating. But other than that, I am more or less absorbed in this bubble. I don't go into the darkest corners of my head, and even if I do, it seems ok.

I feel like me. And it doesn't matter how silly or insignificant I am outside this bakery, how foolish or irrelevant, how mean or self-conscious,how vain! In this bubble, I am me, I am unseen,I can just sit there and be inconspicuously comfortable. In public.

I'm listening to some insanely awesome soft, sentimental songs. Which may be a problem, because it's making me want to make this into an insanely awesome soft, sentimental post, which we know I won't succeed at, thus making it into a ridiculously mushy, embarrassing one. This is exacerbated by the fact that my exams are over (finished my last paper just now, DAMN SON!), giving me an endless night with which to

Ok, dah mengantuk. Good night.

Just in case

2010-06-18T21:21:00.005+08:00

Don't tell the other songs this, but I have a special place in my heart for the ones that make me want to dance under the night sky, with my hands in the air. Why under the night sky? I don't know. Why with my hands in the air? I don't know that either. But that's exactly how I feel like when I listen to Fader by The Temper Trap, which has been an absolute staple the past couple months.

Have you listened to it? Do you feel like dancing under the sky in the middle of the night with your hands up in the air? Smashing, smashing, song. I have half-convinced myself that my (hypothetical?) soulmate would want to dance with me to this. Holy crap, this could be our song. Other couples would snuggle and slow dance to nice lovely tunes, and then we'd be like BAM! Hands in the air!

Why am I deciding on a theme song for a non-existential relationship with a hypothetical partner? Kumquats and fiddlesticks.

Anyway, one last paper to go.

Secara kesimpulannya

2010-06-03T20:27:00.004+08:00

Hello.

Banyak benda telah difikirkan.

But for the moment, I have this vision of going "HEEEEY SEXXAAAYYY", and coercing someone into grooving with me to this delightful number.

I stuffed myself with sweet chilli and sour cream-flavoured rice cakes. I have crumbs all over my t-shirt. Why, Atiqah, why.

2010-05-25T00:47:00.003+08:00

I suddenly got this flashback of a memory from when I was 11, I think. I had chicken pox, and was itching like crazy all over. I remember my mom helping me put some balm all over the spots, and she switched on the air-conditioning to help provide some relief. Then I remember her reading a storybook to me, though that seems odd, because isn't 11 too old for bedtime stories? Nevertheless, I can very vividly recall cuddling up to her shoulder as I listened to her.

I like how sometimes, as I walk back with Logs on the way home from the library, or go makan with him and Kelly, I still get that feeling where I am genuinely pleased to be in their company, and there's this warm, chocolatey sense that I am grateful, beyond grateful, for their friendship. And it is not pretentious, or fake, or insincere, it is not hard. I'm not saying it's effortless, but with them there is an ease that is so hard to find with others, with them I'm not a social retard.Their friendship redeems me.

And when things go wrong, when I do several things wrong and feel like fuck, as I do now, I'm going to use these two separate pieces to cheer myself up.

Stroopwafels (Kelly, I love them!)

2010-05-14T15:08:00.003+08:00

It is very likely that I will become, or at least attempt to become, an auditor after I graduate. Sometimes I see this as a rational, logical, idea. Sometimes it freaks the shit out of me. Sometimes it makes me wonder whether this will mean I will end up a spinster. Other times it makes me think maybe I'll meet someone at a client's place (like how my mom met my dad whilst she was an internal auditor at Esso, isn't that so delightfully optimistic?).

I told one of my ang moh classmates I was doing a commerce degree, and she gave The Snort. The OMG-why-are-you-doing-commerce snort.

Another time, I can't remember why, but I was in the library thinking about various disciplines of learning and what their respective students must be aspiring to achieve in light of their studies. I suppose an architecture student would go ga-ga over a beautifully and immaculately designed building by some renowned architect. A bio-med student would probably be motivated by the most recent findings on cancer cures, or something like that. Then my focus shifted onto my own studies, what would an accounting student get excited about? The latest financial reporting framework standard released by the standards board? Then I snorted, and went back to work.

The other day during my Financial Accounting tute, we were discussing executive compensation and employee stock options, and when it wrapped-up, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I had actually enjoyed the tute. It was genuinely stimulating, and yes, I know that sounds very bleah and personal-statement-worthy, but betul, I was just as puzzled by the idea that things like employee stock options could maintain my attention for more than 20 minutes. And that wasn't even the first time I had that ah-ha moment, Financial Accounting as a whole has been my most interesting subject this semester, I believe. Rock on.

I hate, I really do hate, when I encounter people who think that a commerce degree is easy. I get vivid daydreams of severely injuring such people for a couple of minutes, but then that anger deflates and I find myself glumly realizing that maybe the reason I get so upset is because the the notion is actually true? It probably is easier to pass accounting than it is to pass anatomy, or molecular biology, or some obscure engineering subject or whatnot. On the other hand, screw all you naysayers. Selagi kau tak buat subject aku dan dapat H1, SENYAP KAU!

The idea of working as an auditor, doing the whole 9 to 5 thing, the sober work outfits, the employee benefits, the occasional work event and office gossip, the struggle to climb the ladder, the chaos and lack of sleep during the busy season, the whole corporate shebang, it seems a reassuringly predictable route. You get an office job, one that comes with a fixed pay,benefits, 15 days of paid leave, etc. You work, you get paid, you gripe about work, you get promoted, you get paid more.

On the other hand,I'm scared that I'll be someone who hates my job but am too chicken shit to go out there and find greener pastures because I don't have the guts to go without the security of a steady paycheck. What would I do anyway? As of now, accounting's all I know.

I think I could be a competent auditor.

But anyway. How are you doing, folks? I feel a bit older this time around.

Remember Peterpan? The Indonesian band? Whatever happened to them ah? Lama tak dengar cerita. But I recall buying a pirated copy of their CD from Petaling Street ages ago(I'm sorry, I was a student with no money. I'm still a student with no money), and I really did like it. My favorite song was Ku Katakan Dengan Indah, I thought the lyrics were heartbreak in a bottle.

Tetapi hatiku selalu meninggikanmu
Terlalu meninggikanmu
Selalu meninggikamu
Membuat ku terjatuh dan terjatuh lagi

At the moment, I have decided to go to the root, the mothership, the big kahuna of all chick lit, and read Pride and Prejudice. So far it's proving to keep my interest piqued, but it's early chapters yet. We'll see how it goes.

I'm now going to go eat a a biscuit in the shape of a Teddy Bear and go to bed.

Heartbeat

2010-05-02T21:31:00.003+08:00

Houston, we have a problem.

It is 11.39 pm. I have just eaten toast and had a cup of coffee. My roommate's asleep, I wince every time I cause some sort of noise. I have a whole bunch of documents open, the outline for an audit assignment, the meager beginnings of a french script for a short film, readings on going concern issues and auditing standards. I have a half-eaten chocolate egg sitting on my table, it's pretty big. I haven't done my EPM homework, I haven't studied french, I haven't proof-read the outline, I haven't I haven't I haven't. It's my own fault though, it seems as if for the moment I've lost momentum, and I can't be bothered with things. To use a profanity, I can't be fucked.

Sometimes my heart wells up with things, things that I think are important, things that I think are superficial, things that are perhaps meaningless. And I think about how we all do this, our hearts all well up with different things, and I like that. Somehow it's comforting to know that everyone, even the people I can't stand, or the people that intimidate me, or the random person standing at the corner, have this menagerie of thoughts and longings and feelings that are too complex to be deciphered.

I love listening to Dhiyanah talk about art. She knows what she wants to do, she is innately passionate about it, she wants to revolutionize the Malaysian art scene. She talks wistfully about places like Abu Dhabi, and she has a moleskin she carries around half-filled with sketches and random drawings. Her route is so refreshingly different from my own.

Life is muted
Life's on hold
Life goes on
I'm getting old
And can't be arsed to do my work
I'd rather find out what is Plurk
Well, not really.
I just said that so it'd rhyme
And I could waste even more time
Writing this.

Nak makan pengat durian lah. Serious.

Don't make frowns, you silly clown

2010-04-29T08:40:00.004+08:00

Hi kittens!

I want to blog, but I'm supposed to be doing work. But suppose I had nothing to do and could blog at leisure, I would have talked about addictions and how I've been fortunate enough to not be dependent on things like drugs, or alcohol, or cigarettes, but somehow through some twisted working of fate I have become almost scarily obsessed with Big Bang and 2NE1 (both are Korean pop bands, by the way).

And then I would have crapped at length about how freaky this is because I've always seen celebrity crushes for what they are: stupid. I mean, yes, I lust after Edward Norton and young John Cusack and Erlend Oye but I know perfectly well it's all just for fun. But somehow the commercial genius of YG Entertainment (the South Korean talent company responsible for the two groups) has managed to pierce my armor of rational thinking and now I can't stop watching videos of said bands and squealing over how cute they are and making unfounded declarations of love("Oppa saranghaeeeeeeee!!!"). HOW DID THEY DO IT?!

At first it was funny, then I spent a whole weekend doing it and didn't do my work, and it wasn't so funny anymore. But now I think I'm starting to regain my scattered pieces of common sense, so it's slightly funny again. Adoi. How la. I am a casualty of the Korean wave.

OK! SUDAH! SUDAH! No more crushes on hairless boys who can dance well and girls who are so cute yet have swagger.

So kiddies, today's mantra will be:
I will be productive today.

I will be productive today.
I will be productive today.
I will be productive today.

God, it's one of those days where I want to apologize to anyone I've ever hurt with my actions or inaction, and where I sincerely hope everyone's doing well.

FIGHTING!

Time flies

2010-04-25T14:32:00.002+08:00

It only occurred to me after I had left the apartment to check whether the library was actually open. It is after all, a public holiday.

Well, that's what you get for being a melon-head.

So I kept on walking, and I was wearing my new earphones, the ones which impaled my wallet, making it bleed money, but compensates by providing sweet,sweet pleasure for my ears. It goes so far as to make me chuckle sometimes, because when I'm listening to music it's as if I'm in a movie with a personal soundtrack, and that, my friends, is a dangerously lulling experience. All the more so when it's autumn and leaves are falling, it makes you start to think you're in a Korean movie.

I walked and I saw things like pretty flowers and the people from the Chinese Theater Group doing their chalking. The sun was out at the time, it was quiet, and I played the same two songs over and over again. and I thought about things like how this is probably the last year I'll be here, so I better look around uni and see all the nooks and crannies I haven't seen yet. I thought that my book-bag was too heavy and how silly it was of me to be lugging it around. I decided not to do any work today, even though I knew I'd come to regret it, and I was bitter about that for a couple minutes.

I thought about friends who let me realize, via their friendship (no dramatic proclamations or confrontations needed), that melancholy, while delicious, is a passing thing. And that is definitely a good thing.

Allez-y!

2010-04-21T17:18:00.006+08:00

In another dimension, Atiqah is not doing an inadequate job of studying for a couple tests she has, nor is she guilty about having eaten wholly unhealthy foods the whole day.

No. As a matter of fact, she is taking a quick shower. She is going to wear her favourite pair of jeans and a comfortable top, slap on some moisturizer, and wear the necklace her mom bought her for her 21st birthday.

And instead of picking up her book bag filled with her heavy slab of a textbook and and her notes, she is instead going to dump everything out onto the floor, and stuff her bag with her music-player, camera, journal and colour pencils. She'll pop in a pear just for the sake of it, slip on her most comfortable pair of shoes, the red flats with the bows on them, grab her wallet and keys, and high-tail it out of the apartment.

Since the library's closed, she'll make a pit-stop at the bookstore and choose a cheap paperback or magazine, and since she's at the shops, she'll get snacks.

Then she'll go somewhere, she's thinking of the beach. She'll go there, find some ideal spot, kick off her shoes, and just sit and stare at the ocean, for at least half an hour. The rest of her time will be spent listening to music, writing in her journal, and reading whatever it is she brought along while munching contentedly on some form of food.

This dimension's Atiqah will not worry about tests or growing-up or becoming a corporate robot. She will not ruminate about things she would like to do over or regrets she might have. Even if she does, it will be okay.

And in this dimension, Atiqah can eat whatever and however much she wants, minus the guilt.

Where thrills are cheap and love is divine

2010-04-14T16:40:00.005+08:00

Every once in a while I come up with awful, simplistic poems, the kind that kindergarten kids could do. In their sleep.

For example:

If you were staring at the stars
Well, hey,hey!
I was staring at them too
And it's cheesy, I admit
But I was thinking about you
And this onerous to-do
Of not forgetting
Not forgetting you

And while the poems are mostly for private amusement(and also private bereavement, as they are reminders of how I can't write even halfway decent poetry), sometimes I imagine that these are the lyrics that will be incorporated into a lovely, generic, guitar-strumming pop song (I was thinking Colbie Caillat). The song will be a hit, the kind that becomes the soundtrack of a pivotal scene in the season's hottest tv series, is the week's most downloaded song on Itunes, and remains in Rick Dees' Weekly Top 40 list for months. As the official lyric-writer, I'll earn my cut of profits, which will be massive.

And therefore, while I have no poem-writing talent, I can console myself by thinking about all the millions I'll make.

I was walking home from the library with my MP3 player on shuffle, and Kings of Leon's Dusty came on. I have to say this, and I am sorry if this is inappropriate, but it is one helluva sexy song la wei, tolonglah!It's just the whole vibe of the song, the blues-y feel, the repetitive drawl of the guitar,the complementing bass, fuh. It had me thinking slightly mischievous thoughts, I couldn't stop smiling at my shoes. Must have looked like a total idiot.

Great song, great song. Infinitely better than any of those try-hard songs that try to shock you with their explicitness.

Cuaca sekarang semakin dingin
Aku sering ditiup angin

And those will be the first two lines of the song that will be sung by Siti Nurhaliza and be the smash ballad hit from her umpteenth album, which will make it to number one on Carta Hot FM, win Anugerah Juara Lagu, and lead to a sequel concert at Royal Albert Hall.

Excuse me while I bask in my imaginary wealth.

You! Me! Dancing!

2010-04-07T14:22:00.003+08:00

There's a song by Los Campesinos with the title as above, and I do believe it is one of my favourite song titles ever(the song itself is pretty catchy too). In an ideal world, this title would be my ultimate pick-up line. Me and the guy I'm crushing over would be in the spastic dancing club as mentioned in one of the previous posts. He would be standing alone by the free water counter, upon which I would sidle up to him and perhaps just look at him silently for a moment. Then, I would shout "You! Me! Dancing!". And then we would go spastic dance together. Habis cerita. So rudimentary, so straight-to-the-point, so concise.

Too bad it's not an ideal world.

Jijim

2010-04-01T09:02:00.004+08:00

All of sudden I want to blog a lot, where is this enthusiasm coming from?

Maybe it's from the fact that today is the last day of class before a week-long break for Easter! Sure, I'll finish late, around 7pm because of my Audit lecture, but imagine that feeling of sweet, sweet joy I'll have when I walk home knowing I am going to do NOTHING AT ALL for the weekend except fun stuff and I can sleep guilt-free without worrying about homework, at least for the next couple days.

Speaking of guilt, I woke up late this morning and skipped one of my lectures, and it made me feel guilty.

That irrelevant confession aside, I feel slightly breathless. Not literally out of breath, but more like I have that tak-sabar feeling to blog, as if I have tons of good news to announce, or useful information to share.

I actually don't. As usual, much of what I'll write here will be incoherent nonsense, and I suppose it's a morning-after effect of having too much cake (the amount of cake and ice-cream I had yesterday was SINFUL, I tell you), but whatever.

Have I ever told you about my brother? He just turned 13 yesterday. My brother. When he was a toddler I used to love holding out my arms and see him running towards me for a hug. My adorable brother, the one who managed to inherit long,pretty eyelashes, a genetic trait that skipped past the daughters of the family(kakak and I both have the straight, downward-slanting-macam-bumbung kind). He used to be all round and pudgy, with a perut buncit and chubby cheeks and curly hair, and he would do things like talk embarrassingly loud while using the public toilet, and he loved trucks, tractors, forklifts.

My brother's now a teenager, and he's no longer pudgy, he's thin and lanky, and I suppose his height is shooting up even as I type this, because 80% of his pants always seem to look senteng on him. He is intelligent, he can be eloquent when he wants to be, stubbornly opinionated, obnoxiously annoying, very cynical, knowledgeable on all things military.

My brother, my teenage brother. When I was in my mid-teens, going through my crazy years and thinking that my family disliked me, he was excluded from that bullshit. Maybe because he was still small. Even as a crazily emotional time-bomb, you don't doubt the love and intentions of kids, you're not paranoid with them as you are with adults. When he got older and started having some troubles of his own, I thought I recognized some of them as mine, and I felt an affinity with him. Although I was at loss at attempting to say "I get it",that feeling of understanding and wanting to make things better made me feel like a big sister more than anything else.

My brother, whom I think my sister and I are trying to sub-consciously develop into becoming our best version of a man. We want him to be smart, respectful of women, we want him to be kind, open-minded, brave, and everything good, with the bonus of having good taste in music and books.

He loves to read, he loves cats, he loves iced lemon tea, he likes Kings of Convenience and Radiohead. He's learning to play the guitar, he's an avid gamer, he wants to buy a gas-mask off ebay, he now has facebook. Girls are starting to show an interest, he sometimes feels isolated at school, he's doing choral speaking. He's not that much into sports, he has a sense of humour, he can be the typical teenager with a sullen expression on his face and a mono-syllable answer for every question, but there are times where he will crack a smile, burst out laughing or become wildly enthusiastic over something.

He's growing up.

Renewal

2010-03-30T22:00:00.002+08:00

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.

Spastic dancing

2010-03-25T14:36:00.004+08:00

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.

Shepherd's Pie

2010-03-15T21:19:00.004+08:00

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.

Melancholy's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there

2010-03-04T20:57:00.003+08:00

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.

Peripheral vision

2010-03-02T19:32:00.003+08:00

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?

Scenes from an airport

2010-02-23T10:26:00.004+08:00

We take that long drive to the airport. I check in,we go for a drink at Oldtown, and I find it oddly fitting, considering that the first meal I had when I got back was at that very same place. We chit-chat over menial stuff, then it's time to go, so they walk me over to the departure gate and as each of them hugs me in turn, I wonder if I'm going to fall apart but nothing happens and I manage to crack a joke and make my parents laugh, which in turn makes me laugh. I show the attendant my boarding pass and my passport, and I get on the escalator, on which I turn to face my family and start waving and doing the salam malaysia gesture, until they're out of sight.

Then I get through passport control and am walking towards the departure lounge, and as I do so I get pinpricks behind my eyes but nothing dramatic, so I sit down, take out a book, and stare into space. I map out the series of events that will happen once I land. I will get through customs, get a cab, get to the apartment, beep myself in, unlock the door and wheel my huge-ass luggage through the doorway. I will proceed to my room, dump my stuff, and crash onto bed. Then, I decide, the most logical thing to do would be to crumple up into a ball and cry my heart out. Sounds like a decent itinerary.

Later on when we're allowed into the waiting room for the actual departure gate, I properly read the book, occasionally glancing around to take in my surroundings. There's a girl with long, gorgeous, healthy-looking hair, and I mentally compare it to my own tresses, which I've just cut and can't decide whether it looks pretty cute or like the hairdo of a failed anchorwoman. There's a cute toddler sitting on his dad's lap, but he's on the verge of tears, occasionally letting out a cry, and I'm just thinking whether he will become one of those Toddlers That Drive You Crazy With Their Crying On A Plane and woe befall those who sit near him, when I suddenly become aware that the guy sitting next to me is sniffling. I thought he was a guy, but judging by the sound of his sniffles, it sounds like a girl. I don't mean to intrude, but I was deeply curious to whether it was indeed a boy or girl, so I try to sneak a sideways glance at him, which didn't really help, because he/she looks like a girl, but would a girl have manly sideburns?

We're being called to board now, and everyone scrambles to get in line, which I don't understand, since our seats are pre-assigned anyway, so I wait for a bit, and so does the girl/boy next to me, still sniffling. It is obvious she/he is still crying, and I wonder why. As I get up to make my way to the door, I'm tempted to offer an "Are you okay?" to him/her, but I know that if it were me I'd rather be left alone, so I just walk ahead without looking.

Je ne veux pas retourner

2010-02-18T13:48:00.007+08:00

I am 21 going on 22, and I still do things at the last minute, thus causing myself trouble, like the dilemma I'm having right now over my passport and visa.

Well, I'm learning.

Yesterday was a near slip towards the mean reds, I found the very idea of that flight back to Melbourne on Monday night terrifying. I don't want to play anymore.

But that moment has passed, and asides from this whole passport/visa thing, I can grasp the notion of classes starting, handling apartment bills and doing the groceries again. I think.

After spending almost the whole summer not writing, and in fact, not even opening my journal(I think my lack of journal entries are directly related to my lack of communication with God, if you can believe. Sorry, can't resist the whole spiritual analysis thing), I read through it again, and it felt like sweet relief. I could identify with the things I wrote, and I know that sounds idiotic, after all, I did write them myself. But I think, if I may be ridiculously self-centered and melodramatic; I sort of lost myself. Reading my journal gave a sort of deja vu feeling, I recognized what I wrote as me. It was me.

OH-KAY, now that we've gotten the psycho-babble out of the way.

To friends I've lost
To friends I did not earn
To friends I didn't try for
To friends who've hurt me back
I'm sorry.

Well, I said the psycho-babble was over, I didn't mention anything about psycho-haikus or psycho-stabs-at-poetry.

There was this one moment at Phuket, we were walking around at night, and on our way back to the hotel we passed this Irish pub. I looked inside, there was a makeshift stage in one corner, and right when I looked in I saw this guy, a local, I think, standing on the stage with a guitar in hand. He was smiling at something, and then, still smiling, his gaze swung around, thus meeting mine.

Back at school, I once went for this French festival for SBP schools, and I was standing at the food-stall my school had set up, and up came this guy from some other school, I don't know where, and the moment I turned around I saw him, I got this jolt and I do believe I was infatuated, just like that. Infatuation at first sight. He didn't even have to say anything, wasn't even talking to me, wasn't even particularly good-looking. He was just asking the guy beside me a question, smiling, and that was all it took.

Well, of course nothing came out of that, nor this. But I remembered that feeling, that jolt, and I'll be damned, I experienced it again when I saw that grinning Thai guy, wearing a Bob Marley hat in Jamaican flag colours. He looked at me, I got a jolt, thinking he was gorgeous. So what did I do? Instead of summoning my own 1000 kilowatt smile, I dropped my gaze to the ground(probably blushing my cheeks off), and gave a teeny one. To the ground. What was I doing? Trying to channel Vanidah Imran? Nak jadi Perempuan Melayu Terakhir?

Ultimate flirting failure.

Anyway, my frequent listen as of late has been this song by David Choi. Such a prettily sad sentimental song. After listening to this compared to the original stripped down version with just a guitar, I must say, production can make all the difference. The violins are employed beautifully, and I really like the solitary piano notes played between the lines of the chorus, it sounds so floaty and ethereal, it ties everything up so nicely. Also, I think the video was nifty work, done by the independent Wong Fu Productions.

Small talk

2010-02-16T14:23:00.002+08:00

Phuket was:

1. Incredibly hot, with blue skies.

2. A Mat Salleh haven, with everyone walking either shirtless or in their bikinis, positively tanned like roasted chestnuts. I felt so overdressed in comparison.

3. Not wanting to go back to Melbourne.

4. Watching drag queens dance on stage. Some very pretty, other just plain scary, all with better bodies than I'll ever have in this lifetime.

5. Wanting to scratch my eyes out at the sight of topless old ladies and man-boobs. On one hand, I like how they are very comfortable with their bodies and don't give a rat's ass about what other people think, on the other I wanted to screech "WHYYYYY????".

7. Seeing all the massage parlours, with the girls sitting outside. I was morbidly curious to see the sex industry in Phuket. Well, I didn't. The closest I got was seeing a lot of scantily clad girls outside bars and these massage places, with the idea that at least some of them offered 'happy endings'.

8. Spending Chinese New Year there. A lot of food offerings and fire-crackers. Seeing a truckload of lion dancers pass by, banging on their cymbals and drums.

9. Yearning.

10. Eating lunch at a halal restaurant in front of a mosque, hearing the azan and seeing guys in singlets and shorts(quintessential beachwear) drive up on mopeds, park, ambik wuduk, and toss on a jubah or kain batik to do their prayers.

10. A stamp on my passport.

11.Only an hour and a half away.

Swagger

2010-02-10T23:11:00.003+08:00

Fact: When there is an acquaintance sitting in front of me, smoking, I can’t help but want to stare. I'll try not to, I'll try to find somewhere else to look, but it's kind of hard. Especially when that acquaintance is talking to me. Every time I look them in the face to address them, my eyes are automatically riveted to the cigarette. Fail.

I want to stare because I am genuinely curious. Growing up, I was never in direct contact with smokers, just the few relatives on my dad’s side. None of my friends smoked (well, none that I knew of anyway). My dad used too, but that was a long time ago, and the only memory I have that can affirm this belief is one of my sister and I stealing his pack of cigarettes in order to hide it. In college, only a couple of people I knew smoked, and they were guys, never girls.

It’s only since I started doing my internship that I’ve continuously been in close proximity with smokers, and I have to say, I am almost embarrassingly intrigued, more so by women smokers(jakun, I believe, is the accurate and term). When they take out their pack of Dunhill menthol lights and plonk it on the table, or surreptitiously pull out a single stick from their bag, I have to resist the urge to stare unabashedly. I like watching the whole process, from the pre-smoking rituals, like hitting the box against the palm of their hand (why do they do that? So that the cigarettes won’t stick together?),to pulling or tapping one out, to searching for a lighter, holding their palm over the flame as they light the cigarette. Then, that first long drag, and that first exhalation of smoke. Wah.

I’m not for smoking, I’m quite heartily against it. But I do appreciate the aesthetic quality of the whole thing. I think it makes the person doing it look cool.

Wait, I take that back, I've seen some people smoke who don't look cool. Let me rephrase: It can make a person look cool, if done properly.

Well, can't it? The way the cigarette is dangled between the second and third finger, the leisurely manner in which it is done, the way some people gesticulate with the cigarette while talking.

Technically my last day of work tomorrow. I'm smiling. On the inside.

hi

2010-02-03T22:22:00.002+08:00

Hark at me being all religiously confounded and shit.

I need some new music man, because I have seriously overplayed most of the songs in my music player, which weren't that many to begin with. I need new songs to adore. My sister is of course a reliable source, but lately she's taken to mumbly french music, which, while very sophisticated and cool(somehow anything french automatically gets two extra notches on the bedpost of coolness), doesn't appeal much to me. K-pop is all very fun and bouncy when you're watching their music videos, but I don't think it's as much fun to just listen to the songs over my headphones.

I was reminded of Placebo's Song to say Goodbye a few days ago, though, and it gives me tingles. The opening lyrics are dynamite, it is hate and bitterness and venom and exactly how I feel sometimes.

You are one of God's mistakes,
You crying, tragic waste of skin.

Does it ever occur to you to start doing a sexy dance whenever you listen to Muse's Time is Running Out? Sort of like the video but without the army uniforms. I do. Whenever the song comes on, I think 'OOOH, this song is perfect for a sexy dance', and I say the term "sexy dance" like how Jermaine says it in Business Time, and then I mentally start stripping or pole-dancing or whatnot.

Pop pleasure of the week: Cheryl Cole featuring Will.i.am., 3 Words. I like it, simplistic lyrics and will.i.am's tendency to spell things and all. I like how it starts with those repetitive notes, and how the beats pile up in layers, die down and then start up again. It makes me want to be all floaty and move in slow motion with a melancholic face (very much like the japanese music video) one second, and break out dancing the next.

bye.

2010-01-31T22:05:00.003+08:00

On the way home just now, we passed a mosque, and I caught sight of a man praying. For some reason it gave me a great sense of comfort, and a pang of what seems to be regret or remorse.

I've pondered about it, I think this is the farthest I've been from Allah. This is dangerous territory. I asked Him to please not let anything bad happen, because I don't know if my faith can hold steady against it.

How messed up is that? Me, who's never had any proper cause of despair, how can I be so weak that my faith is challenged even when nothing remotely bad has ever happened to me?

I think I've said this before, it's lonely when you don't allow yourself to properly turn to God. When you don't have a solid grip on your iman, when your faith is slippery. My arrogance gets the best of me, I forget God except in times of need, I get angry at Him for petty reasons. At the same time I realize that I'm being ridiculous, beyond ridiculous. Sometimes I realize this and try to apologize. Other times, I feel apologizing is futile, because I've done this too many times, and Allah can't be bothered with me anymore.

Then, the dangerous territory. When you start wondering about the foundations of your religion. The logic of heaven and hell, of muslim and kafir, of dunia and akhirat. I question the workings of what I believe in. My cockiness turns me into a cynic.

For all that cynicism though, I realise that in the end I always turn to Allah. When I am scared, and find myself asking Him to protect me. When I am apologizing to Him right before I commit a sin.

I can't bring myself to properly talk to God anymore. Maybe it's shame.

But I can remember kneeling in front of the Kaabah. I remember that now. How did I get from that to this?

The worst times are during the mean reds. Life usually keeps me adequately occupied that I can forget about this, but then at one point I will suddenly be terrified for no apparent reason, and I will scramble around for something to hold on to or something to distract myself with, but it will be useless. I will once again get that feeling of dread where it seems like the end. At that moment, I will realise I am not ready to die, that I am scared shitless of the idea of death and what lies beyond it.

Why is it so hard. why is it so hard to feel God?

But I caught sight of a man praying at a mosque tonight, and something clicked in my heart. I'll try to remember to hold on to that, and to remind myself of the steadfast conviction I had kneeling in front of the Kaabah.

2010-01-28T22:56:00.002+08:00

It's so hot. It's so hot and my air-cond is blowing lukewarm air. I tried the air-cond in the living room and it was blowing lukewarm air as well.

Conundrum: What do you do when you are hot and your air-cond, which, for lack of servicing, fails to cool you?

Solution: You sneak into your brother's bedroom, which has a newer air-cond and is thus still capable of fulfilling its duty honourably.

My brother's asleep, so I'm sitting here in his dark room, depending on his tidur-matiness to not wake up from slumber and accuse me of disturbing him. But he's tossing and turning rather too suspiciously, so I better skedaddle back to my room.

You know what scares me? The fact that I dread work. I don't want to go to work tomorrow. Would I want to quit if given the chance? yes. And that scares me, because is this what it all comes down to? All that turmoil during SPM, and the conflict over the correct educational path, all my parents' money wasted, it all boils down to a qualification that allows me to work in a job that makes me unhappy? Can you say SHITCAKES?

I'm getting ahead of myself, though.

I stumbled across a blog which managed to hit the jackpot of emotions, in that it evoked that feeling. The one where I feel like life is muffled. There's the world out there, in all it's Technicolor glory, but I am in a hole. I don't think I wanted to be in here in the first place, but I am, and the older I get, the more I don't want to get out.

So yeah, that was one pretty damn interesting blog.

Thank God it's Friday.

Ryan Adams, Call Me On Your Way Back Home

And I just wanna die without you
Oh I just wanna die without you

I was Fat Charlie

2010-01-21T18:19:00.003+08:00

I am just an extra body at the office today, so let’s talk (i.e. read my time-wasting writings). Fair warning: This is an overly-extensive and rambling narration of my day yesterday.

I wake up late as usual.

It takes me two hours to get to the office. I become like all those other drivers who look as if life has been sucked out of them via traffic jam Dementors. On the way I encounter some kid (yes, suddenly all P drivers are kids even though they are only about a couple years younger than me) who won’t let me get into a lane, thus making me angry to a point I am driven to flash a finger at him (don’t worry, I don’t normally do this, and he could only have seen it if there had been an amazing coincidence between him glancing into his rearview mirror and me sticking my finger out). I notice that my teeth and jaw have subconsciously lock into gritting position.

I get to the office, inquire where I’m suppose to go, and find out the client’s place is right smack in the middle of KL. I google map the place, get directions, and choose a route that’s supposed to get me there in 20 minutes. Sprint highway, Duta highway, Jalan Duta, Jalan Kuching, Jalan Sultan Ismail. Easy enough.

40 minutes later, I find that I’ve ended up at Batu Caves. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

I am a horrible, horrible navigator.

*Cerita selitan: After I was done mapping out my route, I started packing up my stuff to go, and that’s when I noticed the right corner of my laptop bagpack was wet. My water bottle had miraculously uncapped and spilt quarter of its contents. Awesome.

I finally get to the place, park, struggle with my things, sign in at reception, and make my way up. I do some menial work, go have lunch with two people who speak a different language, then I have to transfer my stuff to a different part of the office. I walk with my senior, in front of me is some guy talking to a salesperson. He starts walking away, while still talking to the salesperson, and bumps into me, treading heavily on my foot. I hold out a hand to steady him, and say sorry (even though it was his fault!). The fucker doesn’t apologize nor does he acknowledge mine.

I spend the rest of the day holed up in a room, trying to match interest rates to bank contracts. I screw up a few times, miss a couple of obvious points in front of my senior, and generally feel like an incapable twat.

Work finally comes to an end, I’m let off, and I start walking back the carpark. On the way there I pass a Starbucks and make a beeline for the counter to get a ridiculously priced but fantastic-tasting frappuccino. It is a waste of money, but it has been a trying day and I cannot deny that once I’ve drunk a dark mocha frappuccino, I tend to have a stupid grin on my face for at least an hour afterwards. I suppose it’s the whole combination of coffee and chocolate, it stimulates happy hormones.

I pay the ridiculous sum for my drink, go to pay for my parking ticket at the machine, and discover that I have spent the major chunk of my small change on the frappuccino bertuah and don’t have enough left to pay for the ticket. MANGKUK AY-

No matter! The frappuccino begins to work its magic and I cheerfully disregard this mishap and go to a handy ATM nearby to withdraw.

I cross the deserted carpark towards my car(casting a weary eye around, of course. The combination of a silent carpark, newspaper stories and an active imagination keeps me adequately vigilant, hopefully).

I drive off, and try to figure out how to get back. By that time, it’s getting dark, I see the bright lights of the city, I see what are presumably tourists walking around, I sing along to the radio, and generally all is well with the world (I told, you frappuccinos are magical). I end up using the Sungai Besi way to get home. I drive, I drive, I miss the exit heading to Puchong. I drive, I drive, and reach the turning to the lumba kuda roundabout, see congestion, impulsively decide to drive pass. I miss another turning, there is no u-turn, and somehow I end up in Bangi.

BANGI???

I am a horrible, stubborn navigator. BANGI?

I desperately turn back, follow all signs to Puchong, get led onto a different highway, waste petrol and toll money, and finally end up at that familiar stretch of road in front of IOI mall. I follow the familiar road, get to the correct residential area, wave to the security guard who lifts the divider up for me, and reach home.

Home to kickass Mom-cooked bayam masak sup and udang masak sambal. All is well.

Swedish people must be awesome

2010-01-14T23:21:00.003+08:00

I am sometimes such an embarrassment, just by being. When I am, I feel like I want to burst out laughing, I can't stop smiling.At the exact same moment, I want to walk into a wall, or at the very least bang my head repeatedly against it.

Hi anna, happy belated birthday! Sorry for the late wish, and sorry I'm too much of a confused chicken shit to email you personally. I chose the pathetically open medium of a blog instead.

TGIF tomorrow! Last weekend, I spent my Saturday sleeping 13 hours, it was beautiful.

In a nutshell:

1. Attacks on churches:not cool.

2. Sleeping in on Saturday:cool.

3. Watching korean pop videos on Channel V:Cool.

4. Traffic jams with soulless people who speed up when you want to switch into their lanes: Not cool.

5. Fynn Jamal's Balada Jiwa Perempuan Gila: Cool.

6. Conflict over the use of 'Allah':Not cool.

7. Kings of Convenience coming to KL: My God cool tak tahan.

8. The fact that they're coming once I've gone back to Melbourne:Not cool.

9. Rais Yatim: Not cool. (though if you were to ask me to demonstrate a solid foundation for my dislike, I probably wouldn't be able to do so. Which makes me a twat unfairly prejudiced against Rais Yatim. Sorry Rais Yatim!).

10. Jonna Lee & Ed Harcourt's And Your Love

Cool like awesome ice cubes. Enlightenment credits go to Kakak, of course.

11. Kelly back on Malaysian soil: Cool tak tahan jugak.

Ok. Bye.

Insaf! Insaf!

2010-01-05T22:47:00.002+08:00

Good grief.

The next thing you know, I'll be writing sappy love songs that were meant to be sung by Siti Nurhaliza circa 1997, with titles like Penjara Percintaan and Kelambu Kasih.

Melbourne

2009-12-20T11:31:00.003+08:00

There are some days, days that are far and few in between, where you wake up, and you feel that you're hot. You feel that you look good. Damn good.

You wake up, shuffle over to the bathroom mirror and blink, because today, for some reason, your early-morning reflection does not repulse you. Your hair, instead of messy, is sexily tousled. Your zits have shrunk, your skin looks smoother. Your belly looks smaller, what is usually fat is today nicely curvy. It is a strange thing, as you examine yourself in the mirror. You're hot.

So you shower and get dressed. You blow-dry your hair, which falls perfectly, the fringe is not wonky and you have no cowlicks or any flicked up ends. You choose a casual outfit, just a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt, and somehow these simple items of clothing manage to accentuate whatever that looks good about your body today. The t-shirt falls flatteringly, the jeans make your legs look good. You pair the outfit with your favourite stud earrings, and flip-flops, which for once, doesn't look like you're wearing selipar jamban.

Your grab your bag, sling your headphones around your neck, and get ready to head out to class. One last check at the mirror. You're still hot. And you look cool!

So you leave your apartment building feeling rather good about yourself, and this transforms all your usual mannerisms. For one thing, you don't scurry to the lecture theater like you normally do. Instead, you stroll along languidly. You're practically sauntering. Self-confidence is oozing out of you, you feel like you could take on the world. If you have any crushes at the moment, you half-wish you would run into them. Because how could they resist you now? Your self-esteem has risen to the point where you feel you would have no problem looking them in the eye in giving them your best 'come-get-me' look, and they would definitely...well, come and get you.

And then, at this moment, when you are still high on this self-esteem pill and self-induced perceptions of hotness, that's exactly when a proper hot girl, a bona fide bombshell with gorgeous hair, fabulous figure and amazing dress sense will come sit beside you in the theater/get into the same lift/walk past, and that moment will have the same impact on your bubble of confidence as a pin on a blown up balloon, a small kid's finger on a soap bubble, or an alarm clock on a really good dream. All illusions/delusions/hallucinations of hotness are brought to an abrupt end, and once again, you are the slob in a ratty stretched out t-shirt and selipar jamban.

You sigh, groan inwardly, and want to curse the hot girl, but it's not her fault. The good God has blessed her outer appearance with features that fit conventional perceptions of beauty, being bitter about that would be petty and pointless. So you content yourself with sighing once more, perhaps emitting a rueful chuckle, and you wish that even if you won't ever look as good as the hot girl, you will someday manage to achieve the same sense of comfort within your own skin and self-confidence that you felt today, before the pretty girl had to ruin it all.

I didn't even know Jurassic Park was a book until my brother told me

2009-12-15T22:03:00.002+08:00

Had my first wtf moment at work today. As in, 'what the fuck am I doing?'.

Singing out loud in the car seems to be the only semi-effective method of retaining bits and pieces of your soul in the face of traffic jams.

Proof I still can't drive for peanuts:knocked into a pasu while reversing out of the driveway this morning.

Sometimes, usually when I get out of the car and start striding purposefully towards the office, with my work-pass around my neck and my laptop bag, I think I can see myself doing this. Sometimes, when it's past office hours and I'm still at work,or when I have a wtf moment, I start panicking and can't bear the idea of doing this for the rest of my life. It's a toss up.

Mengantuk la wei.

Let's have a conversation. I'll ask you things that have nothing to do with where you study, or where you stay, or what are your plans for new year. You will actually look into my eyes and tell me things you would like to share, things beyond shallow obligatory information. There will be no awkwardness like invisible nooses around our necks, no polite chuckles or forced enthusiasm. Neither of us will think that the other is a self-centered twat. You will not berate me for swearing. I won't be uncomfortable when you take out a pack of cigarettes and start smoking. It will be the best goddamn conversation of our lives.

Mengantuk la wei.

A middle finger to my flaws

2009-12-02T22:25:00.003+08:00

I went to the dentist the other day, and I had a couple cavities(so horrible,I know, but trust me, if I were to tell you the number of cavities I've had in total throughout my life, THAT would be a disaster). I used to be scared shitless of going to the dentist (the fear of facing the number of cavities I had probably had something to do with this),but now it's fine. The only uncomfortable part is when the dentist drills my teeth in preparation of filling up the cavity and the drill gets dauntingly close to the nerve. That's when I grip my fingers and try to think of other things, like wayfarers, and certain people (I'm really not sure whether it's a compliment or an insult to tell someone I thought of them while having my teeth drilled).

And for some reason it just dawned on me on how intimate the whole thing is. I had someone else's hands in my mouth! Why did that not ever occur to me before? Luckily, my dentist is this really nice lady. I wanted to punch(ooh, urges to physically assault) her assistant who tended to painfully jab the saliva sucker thingamajig into the floor of my mouth though.

Most of the extended family and then some knows about my internship, which is funny, considering the fact that I am somewhat dreading work and the inevitable screw-ups that come along with it. And the 'orientation' period? Aaaack.

I was watching Before Sunset again(well, a portion of it before the DVD got stuck and I couldn't be arsed to eject it, re-insert it, and skip beyond the stuck bit), and I wished I could be someone like Celine-opinionated, involved in something cool and noble like working to improve international laws concerning environmental issues, someone who's worked in India and done a stint in Warsaw, things like that. Being French is a plus too. I would settle for just being opinionated for the time being, because at the moment, I don't have opinions on a lot of things, which bothers me. I don't have an opinion on whether Chin Peng should be allowed back into the country, or about the MCA fractions, or the BTN revamp, or islamic banking. I am disinterested.

I wonder when I stopped being afraid of the work 'fuck'.

How are we doing spiritually? Not good, not good. I have deviated from the straight and narrow(though it was never straight to begin with, if you know what I mean), and I do so sheepishly, knowing that I shouldn't be doing this, that I will end up on the road to fucked-upness. I will either crash and implode spectacularly, or something will click quietly and I'll be able to slip back into something better than what I am know. I hope it's the latter, and I hope it's soon.

I've been playing a bit on the piano since getting back, which brings me a small secret sense of pleasure. It occupies my time, I like to see my fingers move across the keys, and it's nice to hear a tune take shape. But, as my sister kindly pointed out, the extent of my playing repertoire is limited(I keep playing the same 4 songs over and over).

I miss my Kellogs and half wish you guys were here just so that we could go lepak at a mamak or something.

For some reason, I really hate Giuliana Dipandi(am I referring to the right person here?) and the other kumquats that make up the panel on the stupid E! show that judges red-carpet looks.

I must repent. again.

2009-11-15T18:44:00.007+08:00

I was lying on my bed, reading through a blog, when suddenly I saw out of the corner of my left eye, something fluttering up. A moth.

Now, I don't know if you know this, but I am scared of moths, butterflies, cockroaches, and anything yang sewaktu dengannya. Which turns even me off sometimes, it's such a clichéd girly fear. But fear them I do, even if the moth/butterfly/etc in question is about 25 times smaller then me. As long as it has wings that can make it fly around erratically, I'm a goner.

So I saw this moth, and my first instinct was to swear(a whispered "mother". Why "mother"? Well, some scattered remains of propriety stopped me from saying a longer, particularly foul word. Why whispered? because my roommate's asleep).

My second instinct was to grab the nearest thing that could act as a shield as well as an offensive instrument(I may be a coward, but when push comes to shove I can swat like nobody's business). Pencil box? No. Student diary? No. Packet of tim tams? Good grief, where's a weapon when you need one. I finally grabbed a decent implement(French exercise book), and held it over my head. The moth, which had been fluttering about near the ceiling, suddenly veered to the left and crashed into my blinds before sliding downwards. I can't see it now, my table's blocking my view. It hasn't made any movement since, so I suspect it's dead now(unless it's just sitting there quietly, which, if you think about it, is a pretty creepy thought). Now I have to pick up a dead moth tomorrow.

On an almost unrelated note, I find it peculiar and at the same time pathetic how susceptible I am to developing blog infatuations.(Did I just type that? Blog infatuations?)

I am so screwed for Corporate Law.

The next time I post I'll be at home!I want to screech out some ancient tribal cry of excitement and gratitude, but my roommate's asleep.

ok bye.

Edit: BLOODY HELL THE MOTH ISN'T DEAD IT'S SITTING THERE QUIETLY! Serious mangkuk ayun lah.

Bum like you

2009-11-11T16:06:00.003+08:00

Aku dah buat dua exam, tinggal dua je lagi.

Sekarang dekat Melbourne tengah panas. Panas ya rabbi. Semalam aku punye first exam, buat masa sesi petang, pukul 2.15. Ntah kenape aku pergi underestimate how hot it would be in the exam hall, jadi aku pergi pakai jeans, a blouse(tapi warna merah, sebab aku taknak pakai baju hitam yang serap haba), kasut, pastu aku pergi lepaskan rambut. Sebab rambut aku panjang, kiranya aku macam pakai scarf. Exam aku dua jam. 120 minit. Aku rasa 20 minit daripada masa tu aku sibuk fikir “panas ya rabbi”, sambil lap peluh.

Hari ni aku exam petang lagi, jadi aku pun ambik lah langakah-langkah berpatutan untuk menghadapi kepanasan dalam exam hall. Aku pakai three-quartered jeans aku dengan t-shirt, even though t-shirt tu gelebeh and dia punya collar dah bentuk pelik sebab basuh banyak sangat kali. Lepas tu aku pakai selipar dan aku ikat rambut aku biar bonjot atas kepala. Kesimpulannya, aku nampak macam orang gaji masa tengah buat exam tadi.Takpe. Aku dah biasa.(Ye,aku selalu keluar rumah nampak macam orang gaji, ape masalah kau ?)

Masa aku tengah nak jalan pergi exam hall tadi aku ada nampak seorang kawan(kawan ke? kenalan lah kiranya) aku ni tengah jalan kat depan aku. Aku boleh cam belakang dia, serious terrer. Anyway, kalau ikutkan,melainkan aku kenal orang tu secara baik, aku selalunye akan jalan perlahan-lahan, ataupun ikut jalan lain, dengan harapan aku tak payah tegur orang itu dan dia takkan perasan aku, sebab aku ni socially retarded like that. Tapi kali ni aku pegi kat betul-betul belakang kenalan aku seorang ni pastu aku pegi tepuk bahu dia. Dua benda muncul kat dalam kepala aku saat-saat aku tepuk bahu dia, iaitu:

a) Tinggi jugak dia ni, kalau nak tepuk bahu dia aku kena angkat tangan hampir separas dengan muka aku.

b) APE PASAL AKU TENGAH TEPUK BAHU DIA NI??

Aku sibuk sangat fikir pasal b), sampaikan bila kenalan aku tu pusing dan nampak aku, aku tak mampu nak senyum kat dia dan cakap ‘hi’ ke apa. Tak. Aku sekadar naikkan bulu kening sikit. Tak boleh naikkan mulut untuk senyum, naikkan bulu kening pun jadilah.

Apa kejadahnya aku naikkan bulu kening ? Gila sombong. Or just gila, fullstop.

Magdalene

2009-11-08T16:47:00.007+08:00

My love affair with my studies is going through a rough patch.

Maybe it's just because of exams? Exams, the loathsome creature that mocks my immaturity, my lack of hard work, my stupidity. Perhaps. But this semester has been a sort of blur for me, and the only classes I felt like I was attending body and soul were my french classes.

How can you have a love affair with accounting anyway? It sounds downright laughable. Have you ever met a person who is genuinely fascinated by it? I was reading someone's blog, and the passion and innate interest she has for what she's learning, her enthusiasm about her studies and her course work, it shone through, and it killed me a bit, because I don't think I've ever felt like that about my studies. Yes, what I learn can be stimulating,I acknowledge its due importance, but my interest for my studies is parked at the end of classes, and I don't integrate what I learn with my life. I wish I could be more... emotional, I suppose, with my studies. But it's kind of hard to get all worked up over the joys of learning things like the existence of separate financial reporting obligations for different-sized companies, or directors' duties to shareholders.

Why did I choose a commerce degree? Because I felt a certain satisfaction in working out how accounts balance, and was stoked when they actually did. Because economics fascinated me in a way physics and biology couldn't. Because I thought I was good at it, that my intelligence was meant for these subjects, because I could see myself becoming a kick-ass accountant.

Now that I don't feel that I'm good at it anymore, and that my intelligence seems non-existent, and half of my lectures bore me to tears, what does that leave me with?

I want to come home so badly, I am ultimately tired of this place for the time being.

*** Very sorry for this, I tried very hard to avoid doing an emo exam post this time around. I was initially supposed to blog about things like witty(if I do say so myself) retorts to weight-gain comments, tim-tam slam orgasms, my imaginary t-shirt shop ambitions, etc, but somehow this was what came about. I is failure.

I have to go get groceries

2009-11-01T14:24:00.002+08:00

My compensation for studying as of late has been videos of korean boybands.

Betul.

Despite the demise of the boyband in negara-negara matsalleh(or its evolution to the Jonas Brothers), it has been perfectly preserved in South Korea. I mean, we're talking about the traditional formula here:

Good looking guys(or disturbingly pretty, depending on your view) + catchy pop tunes + dancing + videos with close-ups of them singing with emotional faces = bunch of fangirls squealing

South Korean boybands are wonderfully unapologetic about it, the boys are all so pretty(nampak macam semua baru hit puberty, but withouts zits. No body hair to be seen!) utterly metrosexual, good dancers(I now appreciate the intricacies of good blocking), and they have a tendency to go for band names in the form of letters.

How can I not be cheered up watching them?!

So if I don't do well for this exam, you know why. I was too busy watching hairless boys singing and dancing simultaneously.

tell her nothing if not this

2009-10-28T21:56:00.007+08:00

Someone must have slipped me the happy drug today, because I was giggling (that's right, giggling) at the most random things. I giggled thinking about the french dialogue I had to listen to for my listening test. I giggled while I was walking behind a couple of acquaintances of mine who had recently become an actual couple. I giggled after I pretended not to see someone(I'm sorry,I can't help it! Avoiding a conversation just seems easier than actually having one), I giggled reading the scribbles on the tables at the library(I love scribbles!). I giggled thinking about some regrets,I giggled thinking how frumpy I looked, I giggled while replaying recent events and conversations in my head, I giggled watching videos on Youtube. It was a lot of giggling, occasionally followed by periods of perplexity over what was it I found so damn amusing.

Remember this one?

I should be sleeping.

Riot on an empty street

2009-10-24T09:52:00.004+08:00

"Elle est amoureuse!"
"Je la connais même pas".
"Mais si je la connais".
"Depuis quand ?"
"Depuis toujours. Dans tes rêves".

***

Having been reminded of the existence of this blog, I am somewhat pleasantly surprised by how much I miss it. I miss it like I miss a pal, as if the few people who read it have molded into one big lump of friend, a friend I just so happen to be at ease with to tell embarrassing things to. It hasn't been that long since I last blogged, but it sure feels like it, and I have all these things I want to tell you, what I've been up to, and what I've been scared of and what I've been excited about, what has been making me feel guilty. I'm sorry it's all about me, but that's just the kind of friend this blog is.

But first order of business. I got King's of Convenience's Declaration of Dependence, and here I must stop and take a deep breath because I'm about to burst with the joy of telling you how much I love it. Few things make me as happy as when I finally get a CD I've been anticipating and it turns out as good as you hoped it would be(and my hopes were pretty high).It is so lovely. KAKAK KAKAK KAKAK JUST WAIT 'TILL I COME BACK THEN YOU CAN LISTEN TO IT!

Second order of business. I was in my macro tutorial the other day, lost as usual, and suddenly Voice in My Head quipped: "and to think you tried applying to Cambridge. Ha-ha!Ha-ha-ha!".I almost joined in laughing out loud.

Third order of business. Being in the dance production for Flare reminded me of some long-lost childhood trait: I kind of like performing. It's a bit intoxicating, that adrenaline rush before you get out on stage, the swell of watchamacallit if your performance goes well.

There's no place like home. There's no place like home. There's no place like home. I don't mind that I'll have to meet up with relatives saying I've gained weight, or if my family gets annoyed with me, or the cat doesn't recognize me, or even the dread of work and the inevitable screw-ups that come with it. I want to get home.

Now, all I have to do is contribute towards a kickass show tonight, sober up tomorrow and get cracking on the studies. and say sorry to God. again. and stop eating out and cook more. and do the exam papers. and look forward to my flight back.

sounds like a plan.a plan that does not account for freaking out.

In which I tell you embarassing things and make you cringe

2009-10-14T09:10:00.003+08:00

I am perfectly comfortable admitting I am a social retard. You see, the thing is, most times, I don't mind. Sure it can be uncomfortable at moments, I've complained about them often enough. But I seem to have accepted it and am content with the fact that this is who I am, that I will not make friends effortlessly, that I will not be a social butterfly. I've figured out I will always be uncomfortable at parties, that I'll be the quiet girl in tutorials, the one who sits alone at lectures. I'm not happy that I don't easily connect with many people, but as corny as this may sounds, it makes me happier when I do manage to connect with someone, I like to delude myself that its worth more. I'm such a hard person to be friends with(I'm sombong, I'm quite crazy,etc), so when someone does manage to do so I am eternally grateful.

But sometimes, like when your french partner ditches you(Jonathan has gone missing), and your french teacher asks the rest of the class whether they'd want to partner with you and it remains silent, you are reminded that you are a social retard in the most painful way possible. And so you wonder.

What if I don't want to be fucking sociable?

mad? yes.
Ashamed? yes.
hungry? Yes. I'm going to go makan.

"I've been feeling like a fox with sad old eyes"

2009-10-02T19:58:00.005+08:00

One reason why I like Breakfast at Tiffany's so much is because it had that part where Holly talks about the mean reds, about suddenly feeling scared without knowing what you're afraid of. It made perfect sense, because sometimes I'll be in the shower(this feeling usually occurs either when I'm in the shower or sitting on my bed at sunset, I don't know why), and I'll suddenly find myself dreading something, like it's the end and I have nowhere to run to. I'll have no idea why and start listing all the possibilities for this feeling, starting with whether I've prayed. Sometimes it feels like the end, the end that no music or pretty film can prevent from coming. I'll rest my head against the bathroom wall,(sometimes I'll be wearing a flowery shower cap as I do so), and will the hot water to wash the feeling away.

Either way, I like the fact I have a name to call it now.

This song makes me feel things.

And though our doors may knock and rattle in the wind
I'll just hold you tight and we'll not let those fuckers in

Listening to Bloc Party, I was struck by a line from Two More Years.

I've become crueler in your presence

While the song in its entirety wasn't relevant to what I was thinking, that line alone struck a chord. I know I often behave appallingly, sometimes with specific actions like making spiteful comments or pretending not to see someone, sometimes just with sheer arrogance. I don't know why I still do it, and I don't know how to reconcile the different parts of myself with any of it. I'm sorry.

But enough about that. I've booked my flight ticket home, yay! Beacon of light. And I've had a serving of vegetables today, which always makes me feel good(never mind the fact it was cauliflower, not some green leafy vegetable). You know you've crossed a certain point in your life when you go looking for sayur, as opposed to avoiding them like the plague(picking out the mixed veggie your mom puts in nasi goreng, anyone?).

I like to whistle. I didn't know how to whistle until after school, because apparently bersiul adalah perbuatan yang sial, therefore I was told to avoid it. However, after school there was no one telling me not to, plus my parents are both avid whistlers, so there you have it. I practiced until I could blow more than just air.

I like telling you useless information, I know.

Going HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY HEEEY!

2009-09-30T08:14:00.004+08:00

Holy cow!

I'm sorry to sound like a buffoon, but Erlend looks so endearing with his flippable sunglasses/glasses, he has officially joined the ranks of people I lust after but will never meet. Move over Edward Norton, shift aside young John Cusack, give the man some room. Let him sit next to all the Korean actors I've got lined up.

There's even another video already, for Mrs Cold, go watch it.

A friend of mine got tickets to go see Phoenix in Birmingham, apparently, which made me relive the awesomeness of watching them here. The highlight of highlights was the encore, of course, they ended with 1901, which was off the hook! Luckily some person on youtube recorded it, because I recorded squat.

Still my favourite song off the new album, and the lights! Whoo.

One thing that bugs me when I go to a gig is when there are people near me who stand stock still during the show, or only concede to bop their heads or sway ever so slightly. It's their choice, of course, but it sort of defeats the whole purpose, doesn't it? How can you not instinctively want to move when you hear a riff like that? Or, to be more honest, it makes me feel idiotic when I shake around by myself.

I was watching a milk commercial on tv, they used this really pretty song which I couldn't find out by whom, but thanks to the kuasa that is yahoo answers, some nice person revealed that it's a song called Picture Frames by Georgia Fair. Can I be really douchey and just put it here?

2009-09-26T18:57:00.004+08:00

I'd convinced myself that I wouldn't be able to concentrate on my assignment without doing my chores first, so today I didn't bother to shower and did some semi-massive straightening up. I managed to khatam my sentimental playlist while doing so, working my way through lovely guitar-strumming-type songs, as the weather bounced between gloomy and sunny. If you'd dropped by you would have caught me in my pajamas, singing out loud as I vacuumed the floor/ironed my clothes/did my laundry/baked cupcakes. I am still in a gross un-showered state(I'm taking a bath after this, I swear), but my apartment floor is pretty clean, whoo. While I'm procrastinating, I might as well pop in a picture here.

Gambar!

A muhibbah aidilfitri

Hot

2009-09-23T21:12:00.002+08:00

Hello. It's been a while but it feels like it's been much longer. I have an essay due for when I meet my group assignment members tomorrow but I still haven't finished, and funnily enough, I don't want to. I'm not worried it's late and that we're meeting at 10, that I still have 700 words to go. I don't want to do this, and therefore I won't. What's wrong with me? I don't know. But selamat hari raya.

I've been really enjoying dance class, have I mentioned this? Leaves me exhausted, but in a good way. and I've also really been enjoying this weetabix cereal Kelly gave me to try. It's got berry bits and stuff in it,annoyingly chewy and they get stuck in my teeth at times when eaten with milk, but still delightful nonetheless.

We've got a gig this weekend(woo!), and secretly, I find it thrilling. Very glad I'll have my Kellogs there with me. I'll tell you something, dancing is empowering, man. All the hair flicks, body rolls and hand swishes entail some sort of diva-esque quality that you have to deliver to make them work! Obviously all my sexy moves were suppressed during school, so perhaps that gives me all the more reason to swing my hips with a vengeance.

I really, really, don't want to do this essay.

But I don't want dance class to equate corruption. It's that funny split personality again, where you have one side gaping at yourself, going "hello. slut. tolong sikit?" and another side going "Bloody hell, it's not like I'm doing all this to go to a club and grind against some guy, this is just fun and a form of exercise."

Oh well.

700 words. come on, come on!

Vous croyez en Dieu?

2009-09-16T11:06:00.002+08:00

Thanks for sticking by when I go crazy. For that, you deserve some sort of baked good, so come see me to claim it.

Got my oral over and done with, and I've submitted my assignment. Two points!

My oral partner appeared to be on some sort of mission (unintentionally, or so he pleads) to test my patience. Had he been deployed by God to uji my kesabaran during these last few days ramadhan? Either way, I failed. I would like to believe I attempted to be accommodating the first few times, but at some point you would just like to smack someone across the back of their head and say "Dude. You just can't function like this if you expect to live in an interdependent community, which we do".

I think, if I may be so indulgent to make a self-describing statement; that I am one scary bitch when I get mad. I don't scream in your face (though 9 times out of 10 I probably imagined it at some point), but I choose the shamefully cowardly method of being mad: I get moody, I give you the silent treatment, the death glare, the imaginary thunderbolts. Sometimes I resort to sarcasm and the occasional scathing word, but mostly I go for a vision of frostiness. Which may just be annoying to some (never rubbed well against my parents, I tell you), but sometimes the Machiavellian aspect of my soul is vindicated and achieves its objective to scare the bejesus out of the object of my contempt.

Which just goes to show how dysfunctional I am as a person. This whole thing came to light as I was talking with my partner, and I realized I was having to resist the urge to stop talking and just GLARE at him. Machiavelli was saying "Insult him! Disregard common courtesy, make him weep!". Vlad the Impaler, who often surfaces when I'm angry and want to physically assault someone was with Machiavelli on this, asking me to "IMPALE HIM! Find a pole!".

On the other hand, another side of me (Mother Teresa side?) was going over the fact that he had apologized each time he made a mistake (which is more that what some would have done), he was scared enough as it is, and the fact that he likes to put smiley faces in his messages. You can't pick a fight with someone who puts smiley faces in their messages, it just doesn't seem right.

I was internally arguing all this in my head while he was asking me things I believe in ( We were learning the verb 'croire' today). At what point can you disregard the need to be the bigger person and have the inherent right to show that you're irked? I suppose, ideally, you're not supposed to show it at all. You're supposed to take it in stride, realise that this person made mistakes but then again so have you, etc. The frosty treatment would only end up with both of us being discomfited. Kesian dia. I knew what I should have done but didn't do it. I didn't pick a fight, but I wasn't exactly making him a friendship bracelet either.

No matter, no matter. We'll pick up where we've left it in two weeks. Two weeks of holidays! This calls for a happy song.

Triste

2009-09-12T19:21:00.001+08:00

I need to put on my thundercloud earrings.

I have an essay due on Wednesday and I’ve misplaced my assignment partner, who probably thinks I’m an unreliable ass by now. My French oral partner has yet to email me his part, every little thing is getting to me, and it pisses me off to have to use PMS as an excuse. My internet quota’s finished and I’ve exceeded my phone cap so I can’t call my mom.

My relationship with Allah is not in a good place right now, and I know I’ll get over my stupidity and arrogance in due time, but I can’t seem to do so at the moment. Which is too bad, because it’s lonely when you’re not on good terms with the one you’re supposed to turn to. Everything else I try to seek solace from seems to be falling flat, which may be God’s way of punishing me, but He’s not spiteful (I always keep forgetting and tend to attribute Allah with some qualities of a human, which is just proof of my own folly as a human myself) so maybe He’s just trying to gently nudge me and make me see sense. I’d like to believe that.

I know I’m a little fucked up for complaining like this. I don’t want to have anything bad enough happen before I realise the good things going for me at the moment, and at the same time I don’t want to have to force-feed myself with optimism and cheerfulness. I just want to be sad for a little while before I get up, brush myself off, and move on, ok?

Ok.

The so-called troubles of the nondescript life

2009-09-06T19:59:00.003+08:00

Quelle horreur!

I have 3(or 4) assignments pending, a french test, a french oral exam, and the usual tutorials. The tutorials I would like to just disregard, but last week's macro tute had me feeling very inadequate(read:stupid), so I better read the literature and do the work this time.

I shouldn't be blogging, but I've just completed my portion of a group assignment and emailed it off to my group-mates, so I can breathe easy for a bit. I have to do my french oral though, (pour quoi est-ce que tu ne email pas moi, Jonathan?), which is tedious. My topic is that I've had an awful day and am telling what happened to me to my housemate. So I've been trying to come up with all sorts of bad things that could have happened and more importantly, things I can actually find the words in french for. No point in coming up with a wonderfully elaborate tale of how I saw a white rabbit and decided to follow it a la Alice in Wonderland if I don't even know the french word for 'rabbit', is there?

Dance class has been enjoyable. I like dance class. I like dancing. I'm rubbish at it, but there is something ultimately satisfying about hearing a catchy song (even if that song is something as empty-headed and pointless as Krazy by Pitbull. have you seen the video? completely tasteless, the director should be elbowed in the eyes) that makes you want to move. It's intriguing, this natural instinct to groove to the rhythm.

Anyway, I have to go to bed. Esok is the 17th day of puasa!