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.
Sunday, January 02, 2011
Saturday, December 11, 2010
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.
Thank you to those who ever said so. It meant a lot to me.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Dark clouds rolling in
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Flying stringrays
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.
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.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Side-tracked
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 05, 2010
I want to have a Wall of Stuff too
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!
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!
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Baik, sungguh baik
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sputnik Sweetheart
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Belum Lagi
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.
Saturday, September 04, 2010
Sometimes, I still need you
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.
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.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Ouch
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.
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
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.
Friday, August 27, 2010
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!
I'm going to miss them on Raya. I miss them right now. RIGHT NOW!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Feel
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.
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.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Just about as much right as pigs have to fly
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Il pleut
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
Grown-ups
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.
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.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Group assignments
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.
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.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
The rebound
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.
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.
Monday, July 19, 2010
In which the shit hits the fan
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.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
Drowning my sorrows in kpop and chocolate milk
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.
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.
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