The Pat Files

Laminate the Joker

2012-01-27T22:06:00.006+08:00

I recently found this picture online and found it so extremely precious:

I know, it made me go all googly eyed and blubbery because it's rare to see a cat family so intact where the father cat actually cares for it's family. Usually, in the animal world, the male's job is pretty much done after it knocks up the poor female and he couldn't care less about what happens to his wife and kids or how they fend for themselves after that.

So, of course, I shared this picture on my Facebook wall, to which my trolling friend Tiffany came along to burst my bubble and the following conversation ended up taking place.

Tiffany: For the record, both the kissing cats are male.
Me: Well, the one on the left is tri-coloured, clearly indicating that it's a female because ONLY female cats are ever tri-coloured. Your argument is invalid.
Tiffany: Oh, really? I never knew that! I was kidding, by the way. Just trying to ruin your aww moment. Go figure.
Me: Yes, it's due to their genetic compositions, relating to their chromosomal make-up. Try reading up on it, it's really interesting.
Sudden intervening friend: Tri-coloured cats are ALMOST definitely female. Not always.
Me: Well, in the rare event the cat has Kleinfelder's syndrome then probably you're right. 'Cause then it'll have XXY sex chromosomes. But the chances of that occurring are very small, I guess.
Tiffany: Wow.
Me: In other words, a male tri-coloured cat is a TRANNY.
Me: OMG, we just found our animal mascot! XD
Leo: LOLOLOLOL

A few minutes later, after settling down from the laughter, I reviewed the conversation and came to terms with a horrible discovery. My friends and I are all nerds and our sense of humour might only be appealing to geeks and researches but not other ordinary young people around our age group.

I guess this is what one and a half years of kiasu college has done to us.

FML.

Shoe Sick

2012-01-25T09:17:00.004+08:00

I think the realization isn't going to fully sink in until I'm clutching my flight ticket in my hands, standing at the airport waving goodbye to family and friends as I'm about to board the plane.

Let the countdown begin.

Left for Dead

2012-01-19T21:51:00.005+08:00

"Let's order pizza for dinner!" I suggested after coming home at the end of a tiring week at work.

"Pizza Hut?"

"I was thinking Dominos for a change."

A unanimous groan swept through the living room. "Dominos where got nice?"

"Eh, nice what. Come on lah, for a change."

When everyone finally agreed, I went over to the phone to start dialing but realized I only had the Pizza Hut number in mind, thanks to their catchy advertising jingle. I couldn't quite remember the Dominos hotline.

"Anyone knows the number for Dominos?" I called out to the room.

When everyone only shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads, my mum offered me a helpful suggestion: "Try checking in our phone book, I think I remember writing it in there when we last ordered a long time back."

So I fished the phone book out and flipped the pages to 'D' to see if Dominos was listed anywhere in there. There was no such number but what I did find scrawled in as the very last entry in my mother's own handwriting was a name I expected least to see. I did a double take and was mildly surprised to see that my eyes weren't playing tricks on me after all. But hey, it's such a godawful common name, it could be anyone. Maybe a distant relative or a family friend or something. But no. The notes written next to it in a bracket beside the name told me that it was indeed who I thought it was and a look at the number instantly confirmed any little doubt I had left.

"Found it?" my mother's voice snapped me out of the train of thought that was running through my head of a thousand possibilities as to why the contact was anywhere in my family phone book in the first place. I slammed the book shut and cried out a "NOPE!" a bit too quickly. I didn't want my mother to see what I was staring at and start getting ideas.

"I'm sure you're not looking properly. Let me try," my mum took the hardcover book out of my hands before I could protest or do anything to stop her. She flipped through the pages, landed on the name I was gaping it just a few seconds before, stalled for a heart-stopping moment then maintained a perfectly calm facial expression as she continued flipping the pages as if nothing had happened. "Must be under P for Pizza then," she spoke more to herself than to me.

I was tempted to prod her on about it and question her as to when and why she had written it in there but I knew that I was treading on dangerous ground and that this was going to backfire and put me in a tricky situation in the end so I kept quiet.

And no, the Dominos number was nowhere to be found in the book. I eventually looked it up on my iPad *ahem* and the whole family had a lovely pizza dinner.

The end.

But some things go unresolved.

In Another Life

2012-01-18T22:40:00.006+08:00

"How is he doing?" the doctor asked from the adjacent room, peering over to where I was leaning against the steel table holding a golden retriever's paw out as a drip line ran through its vein.

I looked at the sleeping dog and clicked my tongue at it to see if it was still responding. He opened his eyes a little, lifted his head slightly to look at me then slumped back down heavily on the consultation table. "Better, but only slightly."

"Check his gums," the doctor instructed.

I lifted the flap of skin hanging over the dog's mouth up to reveal its fleshy gums and pearly white fangs underneath. "Moist. Pink," I called over.

"Capillary refill?"

"Still slow."

"Then leave the drip on for at least another half hour."

I drew a deep breath and shuffled my feet a little to get the blood flowing to my legs. I had been standing for almost an hour now and it was going to be a long day ahead. The doctor was in the next room with another dog also on drips, the sliding glass doors connecting the two rooms open so he could monitor both his patients at the same time. The dog on the table in front of me was a poisoning case whose owners had carelessly let to consume some highly toxic flea medication till it could hardly stand up.

It'll survive, I told myself wearily. I've seen worse and this one is making a very steady recovery. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples with my free hand to get rid of the overwhelming wave of tiredness washing over me.

You'll survive.

***

"Doktor ada?" asked the scruffy looking Chinese man as he walked into the clinic later that same day, carrying a cardboard box in his hands. The golden retriever was already stable and resting itself to a full recovery in the boarding cages in the back room. I heard the gut-wrenching cries of pain coming from the box, caught a glimpse of trashing black fur inside and felt sick to my stomach. I saw that it was just a puppy, barely two months old, and it was tossing and throwing itself around violently inside its carrier in a fit of distress. My heart sank lower.

"Ada. Ini apa problem?" I asked, nodding towards the screaming box.

"Manyak sakit lo. Saya bawak klinik semua tempat doktor cakap tak boleh buat apa. Sekarang saya mau kasi inject bagi dia jalan."

I felt a lump form in my throat at those words, especially at how emotionlessly he said them. "Sekejap ah, saya tanya doktor dulu."

I left the reception area and poked my head around to the doctor's room. "Doc, there's an euthanasia case here. Shall I let him in?"

The doctor looked up from his work at the computer and said "Yeah, sure. Get his details first."

As I made my way back to the front desk, asked for the man's IC and jotted down his particulars, the constant yelping that filled the waiting area tore at my heart like open wounds, forcing me to take slow, deep breaths to calm myself so I could hold the pen and write steady. One thing which I have never gotten used to and don't think I ever will is the sound of an animal in agony. It's the most torturous sound in the world and it can rip you up inside.

As I let the man inside to bring his puppy in to see the doc, my curiosity got the better of me and I couldn't help but to follow behind him to see exactly what the problem was. The poor pup was in such a terrible state that the doctor had to put on two pairs of gloves just to touch it. It was weeping and oozing out of every cavity in its body and its limbs were constantly flailing like some ragdoll in an epileptic seizure. It was obvious that its nervous system was completely damaged and that constant screaming made me light headed.

The doctor diagnosed the pup with some kind of brain parasite and put it to sleep. What's harder than crying it out is having to hold it in, put on a brave face and act like this is all part of the job having to work as an assistant in a vet clinic.

How can God be so unfair sometimes, making an innocent little puppy that is not even a couple of months old and has yet to lead the fulfilling life it deserves suffer like that?

Maybe I underestimated the mental and emotional strength needed for this job.

A Coat to Compensate for Stealing

2012-01-16T22:23:00.004+08:00

I'm so glad that my parents brought me up through hard love and an absolutely no-nonsense policy to go by. I'm so glad that they didn't protect and shelter me from every damn thing but instead made me go out to fight my own battles and face all the harshness and challenges that came my way no matter how much I was afraid to. I'm glad they don't give in to my every whim and want till I end up a spoilt, good-for-nothing brat who can't stand on her own two feet. I'm glad they don't think the world of me and go around bragging to everyone about how amazing their daughter is but instead just keep a low profile on my achievements and don't let out much even when asked. Now, put me anywhere out in the reality of the cruel world and I can survive. Or at least try to.

I may not know a thing about parenting. It may be easy to judge other parents but things might be totally different if and when I become a parent myself. But seriously, when I see brats who push and scream and demand their parents for every damn thing then throw a godawful tantrum when they don't get their way, I feel like slapping first them followed by their insanely stupid parents who never put their foot down hence allowing them to get this way.

My take on parenting is that if you've raised your child to be a needy, whiny bitch who can't stand up for his or herself, you've basically failed as a parent. But if you've set your child free from your clutches when they're old enough to let them learn things on their own but are always right behind them to pick them up when they fall, producing strong, intelligent and independent individuals, then that is successful parenting.

2012-01-16T22:17:00.005+08:00

You can NOT be so complacently confident.
NO WAY.
I forbid you.

Minute After Minute

2012-01-14T23:14:00.004+08:00

The scary thing about relationships is that you're only in control of one half of it. It's a two-way commitment and there is NO way to guarantee that the other person will hold up their side of the bargain. Which is why the thought of relationships scare certain people, people who take comfort in knowing that everything in their life is within their own power to make or break, people who would settle for nothing less than absolute control to make themselves feel secure, people like me.

How can some people be so naive when it comes to girlfriends and/or boyfriends? Don't they realise how stupid they sound going on and on declaring to the world with such full confidence that they have found their soulmates in each other after dating for like what, 4-5 months? These are the kind of relationships I've observed time and time again to fuse out fast then crash and burn. These initially crazy intense relationships are the ones that don't make it far after the fire and excitement dies down. And yet they never seem to learn and fall back to square one and end up repeating the same mistakes all over again.

On the other hand, I've seen plenty of couples going on strong for 4-5 even 7 years but are still pretty low-key about it, probably because they're matured enough to know that nothing is forever and the future in unpredictable. These are the couples I see lasting well out of their teen years and over into their late twenties, finally resulting in marriage. How life works out for them after marriage is a completely different story, though.

Someone once told me (I swear to God I forgot who. Nals, probably?) that finding the right person is not enough. What's equally if not more important is finding them at the right time. And I couldn't agree more. Rubbish, some hopeless romantics might say. Love can happen at any time and any age. There is no specific or right time to fall in love, it will happen when it happens and everything will take its course and bla bla bla barf. Yes, I personally know many couples who were childhood or high school sweethearts who lasted a long time together and ended up getting married but different couples are different. Maybe they were built to handle it, maybe you're not. Stop comparing and saying its possible because high chances are that for you, its not. Timing is crucial. Preferably, at a period where both sides are financially stable, mentally matured and emotionally prepared.

Why do people say when you meet The One, they're worth taking a leap of faith one? Barf again. To me, I think love deserves to be fun and free and spontaneous weeeeee but not all the time. There are times when you have to step back and be practical, be realistic as to whether this is actually going to last or whether it's going to be worth it. Weigh out the odds. That's the only way to prevent yourself from getting hurt, prepare yourself for what's to come.

And for those who simply say they don't care and insist love is all about going with the flow and letting the tide take you where it wants to on new adventures or experiences and that heartbreak is all just part of the process, I say these people are stupid and don't respect themselves enough. Maybe they should learn to love themselves first before throwing their lives away on someone who doesn't.

Green and Red No Justice

2012-01-14T22:38:00.004+08:00

I recently came across a similar picture as the above one, of these two giant reptiles locked in an embrace. I found it pretty funny and adorable so I went on Google Images and looked up 'monitor lizards hugging'. Somehow, I don't think this gesture is much of a display of affection as it is a battle stance between two alpha males. But still, it's cute as hell.

Living in the city, I don't get many chances to catch sight of these beasts. I've heard from my mum and a few neighbours that there are some living in the park behind my house but I have yet to see any of them there myself. I remember one time this huge guy ran through the kitchen of my school canteen, causing a commotion and another time I caught sight of one slinking away into the shrubs near a relative's house. Both times, I only managed to watch from a distance but never actually got close enough to marvel at them.

Until last week, during my Penang trip. The road leading up to the island was practically empty except for my big brother's car up ahead (he was guiding us), the car I was in with my cousins and a student driver on the road with her instructor. Just then, we noticed this huge lizard, easily 2-3 meters long and of amazing girth who probably thought this was as good a time as any to cross the road. It stopped right in the middle with one of its front claw propped up in the air, looking all confused. My brother swerved around it while the student driver panicked and hit the brakes right in front of the creature, probably too stunned to move. By the time our car caught up, the poor lizard decided it was best to turn back around and go back the way it came from, into the sanctuary of the roadside bushes. We, of course, all rolled down our windows, leaned out and yelled after it, startling the animal even more. We fell back into our seats in a fit of laughter while out eldest cousin who was driving shook her head and muttered "jakun bandars!" under her breath.

Well, what do you expect? A bunch of single girls on a getaway vacation. How can you not expect us to let loose and go wild?

Wooden Flute

2012-01-14T21:18:00.003+08:00

Since my foundation ended and my three-month break started, I initially considered (after much harassing from my mother who didn't want me at home all the time to bug her) to go ask for my job with Dr. Walter back to kill time. I wasn't as crazy about the idea as I was when I first finished SPM two years ago, probably because I knew that I wasn't exactly going to be free. I would definitely be needing all the time I have to start preparing for the beginning of a whole new life abroad, so to speak.

But I did visit the good old doctor anyway, and I did make time to go in to cover for Frankie a few times whenever I was needed. This week, I was called in to take his place for five days because Frankie was attending some... err, religious course. And I was so happy from getting a large portion of my stuff finally settled that I figured yes, I did have five whole days to spare. I can get out of the house and deal with animals on top of making some extra cash.

Today morning turned out to be pretty busy. I arrived at the clinic to be greeted by Peaches the in-house cat who followed me all over the place then jumped up on the reception table to get my attention, startling a client I was busy talking to and making her scream. I dealt with a number of dogs and cats and even a couple of rabbits throughout the day but what really made my day was my encounter with this bulldog.

Bulldogs are scorned at for being the ugliest and laziest breed of dogs, but I disagree. Well, with the first part at least. Lazy as they may be, they're definitely not ugly. They have their own charm about them. Well, anyway, I was supposed to bring this bulldog who was boarding at the clinic into the cages at the back but he simply refused to budge. I tried pulling him on a leash, I even placed both hands on his back and shoved. But the big guy simply didn't want to move. He's a huge fella, by the way. And considerably hefty. Finally, as I resolved to giving the leash another tug, he simply slumped on the ground and splayed his body flat on the floor, his limbs pointing in all directions like a starfish. And that was the end of it. He was immobile after that. He just looked up at me and blinked lazily with his half-closed eyes and drooly mouth, the corners of which were turned up into a cheeky smile, clearly telling me that I had lost this round. And with that, I started to laugh. How amusing these creatures could be. Of course, I finally managed to get him into the reserved cage in the end, but it took a whole lot more shoving and nudging with both my hands and my feet and a little bit of tempting with dog treats. But I eventually got him in, by the time which the doctor started to look for me wondering what on Earth was taking me so long.

I'm going to miss handling pets and small animals for the next few years. I have a feeling I'll be with mainly large animals for the next few years to come, especially farm critters. Not that I mind because I find cows irresistably cute and sheep oh-so-cuddly. But they just don't happen to display as much wit and emotion as domestic animals do.

What am I saying?

I have to consider.

But I'm too fed up trying to please everyone and live up to what people expect from me instead of what I want for myself.

Coin Changer Woes

2012-01-11T21:50:00.006+08:00

Life doesn't always turn out as planned. Like how I make my way to the fridge planning to grab a yoghurt as a healthy nighttime snack and end up wolfing down a large piece of chocolate cake with a glass of Coke to wash it down a few minutes later in front of the television instead because I decide I couldn't care less anymore and everything at this stage is pointless.

What sucks the most right now is not only the unbelievable amount of preparations I have to accomplish in the ridiculously short timeframe but the fact that there are a dozen other little things bugging me on the side as well. Some may not necessarily seem like a big deal on a regular day but where I am right now, emotionally, everything seems amplified a thousand fold.

I'm sick to my stomach of everyone asking me when I'll be leaving and each time I answer I feel more and more like killing someone. I've repeated my answer enough times that it's more like a mantra now. And each time I recite it, it makes me more and more depressed than the last. Fine, I know I'm leaving the country along with my whole life and everything I've ever known behind to start fresh and from scratch in some foreign land far, far away. So keep rubbing it in, why don't you all? And with everyone insisting that they want to meet up one last time or take me out for a treat and catch up before I leave, you'd think I was dying or something. It's really maddening and I don't feel like facing anyone for the moment. But yet I still have to smile and be courteous and tell everyone yes, that would be great, just let me know when you want to go.

Another thing that is really bugging the sleep out of me is the post surgery complications I'm apparently STILL experiencing. I thought it was all long gone and I'm in tip top shape now but apparently the septicness and sensitivity has settled in deeply and it either keeps me up or else knocks me out completely and I'm left with piercing headaches that make me want to shoot myself in the head.

Other than that, the usual ranting on how much money I'm having to spend is all old news. I've worn myself out complaining. I really don't feel like doing much anymore except curl up and hide until the day of my departure and miss my flight. I give up trying to get things settled. I'm rushing like mad and fighting a losing battle with time.

Heart Warmth

2012-01-09T23:44:00.003+08:00

There used to be this homeless, mentally retarded guy who hangs around outside my hostel compound. He's harmless, really. He doesn't exactly beg but people give him money anyway. He sleeps on the five-foot-way outside KFC and is often seen wandering around the area aimlessly. Sometimes I see him sitting cross-legged on the filthy ground, eating food that was most probably donated or bought for him by the hawkers of the nearby stalls or some kind Samaritan.

The only living thing and his only friend in the whole world is this cat. This small, white cat with orange patches and huge yellow eyes. It's often seen hanging around with this guy, usually at night. They sit together on the sidewalk and the guy just absent-mindedly strokes this feline and it in turn purrs away happily, the two of them blissfully watching the night life of Shah Alam go by. Once or twice, I have seen the man divide what little food he could scrounge for the day up into two portions so that he could share it with his companion. Now that was really touching to see a psychologically incapable man exhibiting such selflessness and humanity to such an insignificant creature.

During certain periods when I feel stressed out with the endless exams I have to endure or with stuff going on at college, I take a walk around the place and happen to bump into this duo. Each time I see them, I get envious because the the two of them look like the happiest beings on Earth. They look so calm and at peace and I know, just by looking at them that for them, as long as they have each others company, everything is right with the world.

This is such a Chicken Soup for the Soul moment but you don't get to witness many for yourself in a lifetime now, do you?

Aroha

2012-01-09T10:14:00.003+08:00

With everything being so crazy around here recently, I decided that I needed a good vacation to get away from it all for a while. So I hit Penang Island with my cousins for a three-day whirlwind tour. It was extremely fun and a much needed break. And then, the day after returning was spent trolling a good friend's birthday all day long so altogether, that counts as a four-day getaway from all the stress, I guess.

But now it's back to the worrying and crying and sleepless nights and endless shopping and never-ending running around, all of which I hate. Imagine having had to deal with all this on top of planning my Penang trip and my friend's double birthday surprise all this while. At least now with those out of the way, I can finally focus on just this and let it kill me for all I care. I'm done caring.

Money Talks

2012-01-03T22:55:00.003+08:00

If only money didn't run the world, we'll all be living a much happier life right now.

Take me for instance, I receive a brand new iPad2 (yes, I'm not done bragging about it yet) as a new-year-cum-parting gift a few days back and am immediately stricken by the cost of such a pricey product along with it's accessories which I had to go shopping for today. Even when spending on myself or getting things I really need, I cringe and feel a heavy sinking feeling inside when I have to fork out an amount of money which I feel is somewhat substantial. Then the guilt kills me.

My parents keep assuring me that it's okay to get something if I really need it as long as I don't spend unwisely or waste money. They say that the money they earn is meant to be spent on exactly those kind of things or else what's the use of saving up so much and never using it for anything then? They must feel I'm a responsible enough spender to be giving their teenage daughter advice like that. I think they trust me not to throw their earnings down the drain unnecessarily but I can't shake the feeling that each time I pay for something, I'm evaporating their hard-earned money into thin air. It's not like my family is poor or on the verge of living on the streets or anything like that. We definitely don't lead a luxurious lifestyle but we're still far from financially burdened. Middle-class living it is. But you know, maybe I just appreciate the value of a dollar a bit too much.

So imagine what hell a borderline stingy person like me must have been going through this past month when I've had to spend quite a large sum of cash all in the name of preparations for leaving the country next month. And my spendings are far from over. The list of things that still need to get done seem to stretch on and on forever and the more I run around getting errands done and checking things off, the more new stuff appears so it seems like there's never a moment's rest for me. I calculated the amount I would have to pay for various purposes, converted them from New Zealand dollars to Malaysian ringgit, had a mild heart attack when I saw the figures then ran to my mother's room crying, waking her up in the middle of the night to tell her how guilty I feel for having to use so much of their money like that. My mum just ran me through the usual stuff, consoling me to not worry and that we can afford it and it's all for a good cause and that this is nothing compared to the amount the government is paying me back and blah blah blah.

But still...

Compared to many others out there, me and my problems are just a speck in the vast universe. People say the healthiest way to de-stress is to take a deep breath, take a step back and compare yourself to many others around you and count your blessings. But certain times, doing this doesn't work and until all my problems are finally settled, I'll have no peace of mind and it's all about me me me me me (and yes, some of you sang that).

Haters Gonna Hate

2012-01-01T19:36:00.003+08:00

I kicked off my new year doing charity because Oprah said I should.

Oprah is fat and she's gonna die soon you shouldn't listen to her.

You're as mean as ever, aren't you? Maybe for your new years resolution you should try to be nicer.

Bitch...

Last Thing on Mind

2012-01-01T09:33:00.004+08:00

"Oh, I forgot. Your present is under the back seat," my brother called over his shoulder at me as the whole family came trudging back into the house past 1am last night. We were all out ushering in the New Year with an intimate get-together with my relatives, where everyone gave speeches and things got sappy and tears were shed and gifts were exchanged. I had already received a gorgeous blue handbag from my aunt and uncle and was already pretty happy with my collection for the night. I wasn't expecting a second gift at all.

I made my way back to the van and got down on my hands and knees to grope around under the seat. I saw the flash of the white paper bag before I touched it.

No.

The infamous logo of the bitten apple stood boldly out in the dark.

Hell no.

Grabbing the bag with both hands, only three things flew through my mind. Either it was the new iPhone 4S, an iPad or the packing was a practical joke and there was no Apple-related product inside. An instant scream of desperation for it not to be the new iPhone flashed through my mind. I was already too comfortable with my ancient artifact of a phone, no matter how old of a model it was. I don't do so well with these techy cool gadgets and stuff and having a phone smarter than me was only going to make things difficult (sometimes sticking to the basics is best).

I found out a few seconds later that my second guess was the right one. Better yet, it wasn't just an iPad, it was an iPad2. I was still pretty overwhelmed at this point, holding the svelte tablet in my hands, scrolling, typing, exploring with my brother next to me running me through a brief tutorial on how to work the thing. The whole time he was teaching, I was still in utter disbelief that I was the owner of a new Apple iPad2 when it hadn't even been anywhere on my wishlist to begin with. Brats all over the world cursing and crying because they had expected to get one so badly for Christmas but didn't must be hating me right now. Heck, even I sort of hate myself right now.

I slumped in my seat thinking back to only earlier that day when my cousins who had come over for a visit had taken a look at my laptop and declared it severely underused. "Why is there so much free storage space on your hard disk? Don't you ever download anything?" And I had to explain to them that I wasn't a compulsive gamer, I wasn't a movie addict, I wasn't an app fanatic or a graphics enthusiast or a download freak. I keep to the bare minimum, using my laptop solely for assignments, errands, music and browsing the net. I don't have the need for all this yet at this stage in life. My heart sank as I thought that I was probably not going to put such an expensive and extravagant gift as the iPad2 to good use. And the responsibility of keeping it safeguard, the fear of bringing it out and using it in public. They were all haunting me.

But then this morning, waking up to a fresh new day, things seemed to fall into better perspective. Maybe it's time to break out of this technological insecurity and start delving into the wonders of the gadgets of tomorrow. They're bound to take over our lives soon so why not jump onto the bandwagon when the opportunity presented itself? I'm tired of being one of the last few dinosaurs of my era to be still using a keypad phone at this age instead of a touchscreen like the rest of the world. And this new gift from my brother is bound to come in handy in New Zealand. Yes, maybe 2012 is my year for change, finally.

Happy New Year, everybody!

Time to Go Home

2011-12-29T11:35:00.002+08:00

When you do something for someone you love simply because, well, you love them, it's hard not to get stressed out along the way. And now I have a whole lot of things to do and a lot of stuff to settle and I don't know where to begin.

My first and utmost priority is and always will be, of course, myself. But I'm just too frustrated to deal with things for time being. The list of chores seem to be endlessly endless that I feel like trowing a fit and just giving up. No matter what I do, I only seem to be going in circles and I have no one to blame but myself, no one to depend on to get the job done but myself. And so I think, hey, why not give it a break and try doing something nice for others instead, just to take my mind of my problems and remind myself that they're pretty insignificant compared to the people around me. I figured it might be a well deserved break from well, myself.

But it's only adding on to the substantial amount of stress I'm already facing.

It's killing meeeeeee.

Post Taruma

2011-12-27T20:36:00.006+08:00

"Oh! Look! Kena!" my cousin-in-law laughed as the guy on the Discovery Channel trying to wrestle a cobra back into its cage was caught off-guard when the creature suddenly lunged forward and sank its fangs into his knuckles.

I watched without really paying attention, my mind obviously elsewhere. I was more worried about the surgery I would be going for in less than an hour to actually bother about some guy being bitten by a snake on tv. The last image I remember seeing on the screen before I got up to leave was a close-up shot of the bite mark on the man's hand, two clean piercings against his rough white skin, rimmed in crimson and slowly turning a sickening shade of purple in the middle. Again, at that time it was the last thing on my mind so how I remember such details is beyond me.

Four hours later, knocked up on high-dosage painkillers, I fell into an uneasy slumber filled with horribly weird dreams from the depths of my subconscious. The last one was of me, clutching a small serpent by the head between my thumb and forefinger and trying to get it to calm down. It was a tiny thing, and yet the struggle it put up was tremendous. Then some guy with no face came to extract its venom, asking me to hold it still, but the extraction process was a mess and instead of neatly collecting the poison, it was sprayed in all directions like a miniature high-pressured sprinkler and some of it somehow entered my open mouth. I gagged and ran to the sink, desperately spitting out as much of the venom as I could. Spitting and spitting, getting as much out as possible, spitting and spitting...

And I woke up to find myself spitting up blood into my pillow for real, the side of my face buried in the mess.

I swear, if it weren't for the fact that I had to go on an empty stomach, I might have barfed right there.

To with

2011-12-27T12:26:00.004+08:00

I've just been too depressed to blog recently and I don't know why. Christmas was lively, with a merge of my mother's and father's side cousins coming together and visiting each other with surprisingly no feelings of awkwardness at all unlike what I was afraid might happen.

The second half of my surgery today was a million times worse than the last. For one, I had to have a small bit of my bone drilled off but this time I didn't cry as much as before, probably due to the anti-depressant pill I took an hour before the surgery to calm my nerves. Well, it didn't really work. I was just slightly giggly but I was still as nervous as hell.

At least the worst of it is over.

Over.

2011-12-22T20:43:00.001+08:00

These days, I watch Animal Planet a lot and I'm still constantly amazed at the level of human emotion conveyed by animals, even those in the wild.

Downloading in Transition

2011-12-22T11:58:00.003+08:00

So results were finally out yesterday. The official Australian website said they would be released at 8am Australian time, which meant 6am for us. So I set my alarm for 5.30 and fell into an uneasy sleep, not quite sure what to expect the following day. However, before the alarm could wake me, a frantic call from Tiffany screaming down the phone at me to go check now now NOW at 5.15am beat the clock to it. All sleep was immediately knocked out of me as I stumbled downstairs in a mad dash to my laptop to end the anxiety once and for all.

At first I stared dumbstruck at the screen. This couldn't possibly be my results. They seemed too high for my expectations. But then, being my usual pessimistic self, I figured that if a dumbass like me could score that much, the other geniuses from my course would've done a whole lot better. And I was not wrong. Oh well, at least I'm satisfied for how I did based on my personal standards and most importantly, I passed the cut-off mark to fly.

So there's one hurdle down, and a million more to go, all waiting out there at some foreign place. Gosh, I just wish everything will be gotten over with already. Preparations, preparations.

Liddat Liddat

2011-12-19T13:15:00.010+08:00

Well, it wasn't as bad as expected. No, it was much much WORSE. And the worst part is that it's not over yet, no sir.

I was appalled and terrified when I went in this morning as scheduled expecting to get it over with once and for all when I was instead told that I'd only be doing half the procedure this week and the other half the following week. I stared at the doctor in horror, insisting I don't want to come back again and that I want it all over with TODAY. Of course, he was all oh, no no no you won't be able to take it, it's too much of a risk this way is better and so I had my heart racing up my throat before the first injection was even given.

Of course, the whole thing hurt like a sonofagun. Even with the sedatives kicking in I felt excruciatingly unbearable pain shooting right through me in a way I never thought possible. Oh God oh God. If it felt like this now, how was I going to survive when the numbness wore out? Can you actually pass out from extremely intense pain? I wish I had that option. I wish I was under general anesthesia instead of local. Who cares if the risks were higher? I'd rather not be conscious through this hell.

I felt every bit of it. I winced and whimpered the whole way through, shutting my eyes tight and trying to focus on being somewhere far far away from where I actually was. I tried not to peek at the tools, knowing they were only going to make me panic even more. Halfway through, I don't know what came over me and I started struggling to free myself from the agony that was ripping my head off.

"Nurse, hold her down please," the doctor commanded very nonchalantly for all the world as if he were asking her to run over to the grocery store at the corner for some milk and fucking eggs. I felt a pair of glove hands pressing down on my forehead and another on my shoulders and instinctively began to thrash around harder against the resistance.

"Relax, girl. Relax."

Don't ask me to relax, I wanted to scream. Don't dare ask me to calm the fuck down.

"Here, bite this," he shoved a small rubber jamb between my teeth. Talk about being tactful. I tried to divert my mind from my present state but that of course proved to be impossible. I heard the word "suction" and "suture" and a fresh wave of panic took hold of my senses. I chanced a quick look, fluttering my eyelids just enough to see below them. I saw the glint of the blade as he held it up to the light along with the menacing black surgical thread trailing behind it and I could hold it in no longer. I began to cry. But for some reason, I still couldn't take my eyes off it. I wanted to SEE. I followed its' rhythmic movements, in out pull, in out pull and wondered how my body hasn't already shut down from the trauma by then.

"I'll prescribe some painkillers for when the sedatives wear off."

Painkillers? The hell you will. I just wanna hold a gun to my head and get the torture over with.

I'm now staring at the stitches in amazement, the crude black thread criss-crossing and running deep through the deep gash where blood still hasn't stopped oozing profusely from. They hurt like nothing I've known before. And I have to go back to get them removed next week? Nuh-uh. My biggest medical fear in life had always been getting stitches. I narrowly escaped getting them once and considered myself lucky then. Apparently I couldn't run for long.

Ticks and Wicks

2011-12-17T17:58:00.003+08:00

"Why have you been sleeping in so late?" my mother barked as I trudged downstairs still half-drowsy for breakfast. I glanced at the clock. It wasn't even 10 a.m. yet. I pictured most of my friends on vacation now, sleeping in well until after lunch and sighed.

"You used to get up by seven during the first few weeks of your break. But lately you've been sleeping in longer although you turn in for bed at your usual time," she went on. "You're getting lazy, you know."

I muttered to myself as I poured cereal into a bowl. She went on and on but I tuned her out till her constant nagging just seemed like a distant buzz in my head.

"Can't you answer me?" she growled.

I turned and looked at her, too tired to argue. "You want to know why I've been sleeping in so late? Fine. I may go to bed at my usual time but I lie in bed unable to sleep until about four in the morning, okay?"

My mum looked genuinely surprised. "Why?" she asked.

"Because..." I bit my lip, tears stinging at my eyes. "I'm worried."

For the first time, my mother actually softened to see me in distress, which made my fear deepen even more.

"It'll be alright," she said softly. "It's really nothing, and you won't even feel it."

There's nothing to be afraid of. Except anesthetic jabs, power tools being drilled into me, stitches and post-surgery trauma.

My mind flew to the article my friend had posted on my Facebook wall as a joke to lighten me up, about a couple who sued for medical malpractice when their teenage daughter died during the exact same surgery I was going to go for. (I know, my friends have twisted senses of humour). I considered showing this to my own parents so they might at least get something out of it if a similar tragedy occurred to me but I snapped out of it and told myself the odds of that happening are really really slim. The case I read about was probably an isolated one and I'm probably overreacting. Probably.

"And anyway, I'll be there the whole time," my mum tried to reassure.

Yeah, I thought, not wanting to say it out loud. But this is a battle I have to face alone.

Lemonade Stand

2011-12-15T21:17:00.002+08:00

You look beautiful in your straightened hair, I called you just to tell you that.

Huh? Seriously?

Why didn't you tell me you did it? I haven't seen you in ages and you know I deactivated my Facebook account a long time ago and I can't access your blog so I haven't seen a picture of you in forever. If you had told me I would have wanted to see so badly. Why didn't you tell me??!

Well, I didn't think it was something of paramount importance or something even worth mentioning. How did you find out anyway?

I met your good friend the other day. He was kutuking your hairdo saying it didn't suit you and it made you look ugly and that you looked better in your old hair. Of course, this was the first I was hearing of this so I decided to see your photos myself. Trust me when I say you look way better now. You may have looked cute in a nerdy way with your curly hair but now you look really hot, seriously. At first I couldn't picture you in straight hair and thought he may have been right but now that I've seen for myself, I know he's nothing but a jealous dumbass.

Wait, he said my hair was ugly? HAHAHAHA.

That was the only thing you caught from my long rant? Screw him, he's a dumbfuck. Like I said, he's SO obviously jealous.

Nah, I was told by a lot of people that my old hair suited my personality better. But only my close friends. Those who hardly knew me said I looked better this way. No one ever said I looked ugly, though. Or at least they were polite enough not to use the word. They just said I looked different and this new me needed some time getting used to. And anyway, no one has any reason to be jealous of me.

Of course they do, especially that idiot of all people. He can't get over the fact that you're so much better than him. He's an asshole and his girlfriend's a slut.

Whoa, whoa... Cool down. Even I'm not getting so worked up over it. These people are not worth my time anyway.

Oh, and you look good in those saree shots. When were they taken?

My graduation dinner.

Cool. So who was your date?

Didn't have one.

Oh, come on! You expect me to believe that, hotstuff like you?

I'm serious. I went with no one exclusively, just my friends.

So that means there's still a chance for me?

I knew you calling me out of the blue seemed too fishy. Get out of here! Haha.

You know me too well. Haha. But seriously, it was really nice talking to you again.

Back at ya. You really made my day. Thanks :)

Waddle Waddle

2011-12-15T14:00:00.004+08:00

So, yesterday I followed my cousin who is currently doing her masters in UPM (once the university of my dreams) to campus to get some stuff. I figured since I had nothing better to do anyway I wouldn't be losing out on anything by following her. She showed me around the place, which was huge and finally we went over to the Veterinary faculty to drop by on a friend of hers who was also doing her masters, but in this department. Now this was the part of the visit I was looking forward to the most. I only saw a small section of the entire place, and I didn't get to visit their on-campus animal hospital but the parts I did see were cool enough.

There were rooms with shelves and shelves of skeletal remains of all kinds of animals.

Horse skulls, cow skulls, buffalo skulls...

Pelvic bones...

Hooves...

Then my cousin told me to take a walk around while she settled some stuff so I ventured along to the necrology block alone. It wasn't as creepy as I expected. In the previous rooms where there were dismembered bones of specific joints, here there were full, complete skeletons of all sorts of animals like hornbills and chickens and cats and I forgot what else.

This orang utan was splayed right at the window, greeting visitors with a haunting grin.

Then I watched as my cousin and her friend dissected some white mice for some recearsh they were doing. They were very cute with their twitching, woffly little noses and reminded me a lot of Pinky and the Brain. But too bad, they had to go.

I don't want to put up the dissection pictures. Although I personally don't find them disgusting, I don't want gory stuff that some people might not be able to handle here on my blog.

I guess I'm pretty used to watching animals being cut open since my days at Walters' so I was pretty okay throughout their experiment and didn't flinch once. I even helped them bottle some tiny spleens and ovaries, but only when they asked me to, or else I kept as much as possible out of their way. The only thing that did make me shudder, though, was when I was told that the proper, internationally certified method by the Animal Ethics Board or whatever to kill lab rats before dissecting them was to snap their necks with your bare hands. It's supposed to be the most painless way for the rats to die but still, who would ever be able to bring themselves to do that?

Ugh.

Sideways

2011-12-11T19:59:00.001+08:00

You see, due to unplanned decisions and lack of communication, I find myself somehow caught in the middle of a grown-up spat. I'm just the child in the whole picture. I just do what I'm told and I'm not allowed to pick sides or fight anyone back. It's not fair that I'm the one trapped in a corner, forced to help with no way of rejecting the offer then I get the blame and get tossed back and forth in between because some people are too scared of confrontation.

Curse my incredible writing skills. Everyone wants a topnotch blogger writing their memoirs.

Okay, I was kidding about the last part but seriously. Referring to the post below, I can now see that I am exactly where I had predicted for not thinking things through thoroughly before acting: in the midst of trouble.

Where, oh where has my underdog gone?

Smite Me Now

2011-12-09T21:32:00.002+08:00

Some things need meticulous planning and flawless execution in order for them to go down perfectly. Nothing can be rushed or done based on brash, hasty decisions.

Unfortunately, that's exactly who I am.

Alien Egg Soup

2011-12-08T22:11:00.004+08:00

The dumbest, cutest, most addictive arcade game I've played. If I somehow have a large sum of cash on me right now, I'm going to blow it all collecting these stupid cards which serve no prupose whatsoever in playing the later rounds.

Herp Derp

2011-12-08T21:48:00.003+08:00

"What's up?" I asked my cousin over the phone, surprised as to why she had called me up out of the blue.

"Dude! Do you know you're in a magazine?" she thrilled over the other end.

I thought hard, trying to wrack my brains for the last time I had submitted an article or picture to any magazine. I drew a blank. "Errr... I can't remember. Wait, what magazine is this and how am I in it?"

"You're on the cover! The freaking cover! Some Tamil magazine!"

My eyes grew wide. Only then did it strike me. That dude who took pictures of me feeding the pigeons at the temple many months back, who told me he was going to use one of the shots as his magazine cover. I thought those were only empty promises! I didn't know he had actually gone forth with it. And how could I have not been the first to know that my face grazed the cover of some random magazine? If it weren't for the insane luck of my cousins getting their hands on a copy in the first place, I would never have found out. Ever.

"What? Wait..." I had a dozen questions I needed to ask at the same time, all of them pushing and fighting around in my brain wanting to come out first. "Where did you get the magazine? Which month issue was it? What does it say? How does the picture look?" They ended up stumbling one over the other.

"Chill," she laughed. "I'll upload it on Facebook and tag you."

Bloody hell, this was the one.

In the draft he showed me before, he had used a picture of which much of my face couldn't be seen but he had gone ahead and changed it at the last minute before the publication to one of which my entire face was perfectly visible. I don't know exactly how I feel about it though. Seems pretty weird.

Well, at least now I can tell my friends that I'm a covergirl.

Sweat Spray

2011-12-07T14:39:00.003+08:00

"I advise you to go forward with the surgery," the doctor said from behind his mask. At the mention of those words, my heart started beating real fast and I felt hot tears stinging the back of my eyeballs. I could only see his eyes but I could tell that he was smiling kindly.

"It's not bothering me in any way, doctor, really." I insisted, trying to force my voice to come out calm and steady. "I feel no pain, nothing. Can we just leave it there?"

"Oh, no." he said comfortingly. "You'll be leaving the country in a couple of months so you might as well get it over with now so that it doesn't trouble you for the next five years when you're away."

Okay. I tried to slow down my heart rate. Okay okay.

"Just step into the next room for a quick scan, please," he said while walking out of the small examination room we were in.

Okay okay.

"Miss? This way please," I was ushered by one of the nurses. I was made to stand up against some machine, grip some metal rods and bite a piece of metal in my mouth. The nurse assisted me through all the moves as if I was moving through a dream. This was not happening.

"You have to stop shaking for the image to come out clear." I had those instructions repeated to me twice and it took me a few minutes before I made that possible.

"There," the doctor said a few minutes later. "All done. Come back in two days and I'll have the report ready. We'll schedule a date for the surgery early next week."

Okay.

"Don't worry," he said soothingly. "You won't feel a thing."

Fuck.

The Law of Relativity

2011-12-06T21:13:00.005+08:00

So there's this kid at my college. Tall, dark, good looking, has a big heart, is passionate about the stuff he does, mysterious in some ways. He was a freshie, one of the students who just got in with the latest intake, meaning he was a year younger than me, and I've had the privilege of getting associated with him during the final few weeks of my semester. He always keeps to himself and is never seen with any friends so I did feel glad that he was open enough to stir up a conversation with me when he did. Okay, I admit. I was the one who was very intrigued to get to know him and so I made the first move of sharing a table with him at the study hall one night, twitching about nervously until I finally cooked up enough guts to talk to him.

Now, before any of you start getting any wild ideas, there is one minor detail I may have missed out that you need to know about him first. He is slightly mentally challenged. Okay, I don't know if you can categorise him as being mentally challenged or not but you should see the guy. He has virtually no friends and is always seen running around like a madman, laughing and talking to himself, completely oblivious of his surroundings. Everyone in his vicinity gets creeped out and tend to stay away from him, which explains why he has no friends in the first place. He doesn't seem to notice the bewildered looks people throw him wherever he goes cackling and waving his hands above his head as he runs around in public.

Now, if he were just some other guy I met outside, as much as it pains me to say, I probably would've treated him the same as everyone else and kept away. But not because I'm being discriminating or whatsoever, God no. I actually feel a sense of pity for them and I would love to get to know them but a part of me just feels, I don't know, afraid of their unpredictable nature and this holds me back. But this guy was different. If I had met him anywhere else, he wouldn't have captured my attention that much but meeting someone like this at the college where I go to, where a large majority of the students are scholars and have excellent academic performances, this seemed highly amusing. Was he actually normal and just acted this way to throw people off? Or did he really have something mentally wrong with him but was a really smart kid at the same time? And so began my personal mission to find out what exactly his story was.

A few of my close friends will know how scared I was to approach him at first. I would walk right past his table a couple of nights, sit at the one opposite or beside him, try to summon the courage to go up to him and talk, then end up walking back to my dorm room with a huge feeling of dissatisfaction and unaccomplishment weighing down on me. What if he had no control over his emotions and snapped at me or worse still, did something to physically harm me? What if he thought I was just being trying to be nice because I pitied him and found it deeply offensive?

When I finally did summon the courage to talk to him, it was on a day when all the tables were occupied and I took the opportunity to sit with him. For the first half hour or so, we sat in silence, him doodling away on his graphic tablet and me flipping through my Physics textbook next to him. And then came the starting point for all our conversations, walking on all fours and mewing for attention; a fat cream-coloured cat making its way right towards us. It turned out that we both had something in common and that was a soft spot for our furry feline companions and so we started talking, using Casey then the rest of the Cemara cats as topics for conversation. Once we started, I found that he was pretty easy to talk to. In fact, after a while, I could see that he was so glad someone was actually talking to him that he couldn't stop. He just went on and on until the people in the hall started giving him disapproving stares and shushing him while I just smiled apologetically back at them while trying to be polite to my new friend.

From our shared love of cats, we moved on to more personal stuff and I found out a lot about himself, his past, his family, his background and his condition that night. It turned out that he was actually autistic with a mild case of ADHD but that clearly didn't affect his performance at school. He is among the first batch of MARA scholars to major in Animation in Korea, which I thought was pretty awesome. We talked for a good two hours that night and at the end of that conversation, I realised that he was truly a smart, kind-hearted kid who was surprisingly insightful and had a refreshing take on life. For example, when asked if it bothered him that people find him weird, he actually shocked me with the reply:

"Well, weird is subjective. Lady Gaga is weird, why do people still love her? I'm weird in my own way, I guess. But I'm not bothered with what people think of me or how they judge me. If you keep living your life based on what other people expect from you, you can never move forward."

That answer was totally unexpected and I inwardly saluted him, knowing that he was in many ways better than those cocky jerks who made fun of him and taunted him.

I didn't have many days left at that place when I finally made friends with him, which made me feel like kicking myself for putting it off all this time when I should've just gotten it over with sooner. The rest of my days at college were spent smiling and greeting him whenever we met and even occasionally sitting down for a chat once in a while, as opposed to how I formerly used to avoid him or even stare after him in fear and amazement each time he ran past me shrieking and laughing to himself.

I've been meaning to blog about this kid for quite some time now and I'm glad to have finally gotten it out of my system. He has my best wishes with him wherever he goes, which I'm sure will be someplace far.

No Pride in Pain

2011-12-04T22:10:00.003+08:00

"Unbreak my heaaaaaart," I stood in the doorway to my best friend's bedroom, watching the source of the horrible sound blubbering away into a tub of chocolate ice-cream on the bed. Somehow, as sad as it was for me to see her like that, I still fought hard to hide a smile at how comical she looked right then. If only I could take a picture. If only she wouldn't kill me if I did.

"Say you'll love me agaaaaaain," she wailed to Toni Braxton blaring away in the background, hugging the carton tighter to her chest, tears and streaks of melted chocolate dribbling down the sides of her face.

"You look disgusting," I told her as I handed her a tissue. She grabbed it and sobbed into it, smearing it with snot and ice-cream. "Hey, it'll be alright. I promise." The words left me without much emotion. I mean, I really was concerned and I truly wanted to comfort her and make sure she was okay but I just didn't know how. Because I knew that no matter what I said to make things better, she wasn't going to listen anyway.

"How do you know that?" she screamed. Here we go, I thought.

"Well, see, I don't. No one does. You just have to believe that you'll be okay again one day. Not now, not tomorrow. But someday. I promise."

"You don't know that!" she screeched.

I raised an eyebrow at her and her crying stopped abruptly as she looked back at me with a puzzled stare, her head cocked slightly to one side in that quirky way of hers. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"It's alright," I told her. "Take all the time you need."

Her eyes welled up with fresh tears again. "I just feel so alone right now. Thank you for being here. I don't want to be alone. I know I can count on you," she cried while looking at me expectantly, as if I knew what to do to make her pain stop, as if she expected me to join in just to share her burden so that she wouldn't have to deal with it alone.

I looked back at her blankly. The song on her speaker system was reaching the chorus again. I sighed, knowing I didn't have a choice. Picking up a spoon on her dresser, I plopped down on the bed next to her and scooped a huge pile of ice-cream before shoveling it into my mouth. "Undo this huuuuuuuuuurt..." I croaked along with her.

Reuben St. Clair

2011-12-04T21:39:00.003+08:00

Pay It Forward.

I vaguely remember watching the movie many years ago when I was still in primary school. It wasn't one of those movies that struck me hard or left an overwhelming impression, or maybe it potentially could've been but I was just too small to know it at the time. I don't even remember how or where I saw it now, whether they aired it as some tv special or if I saw it on DVD. Minor details like that escape me now.

But recently I found the book lying around the house and thought "Meh, it's not like I have anything better to read anyway."

The book was good. It wasn't astounding or amazing. It was nothing to make a song and dance out of but the simplicity of the concept behind it was truly genius. And the fact that it sparked from something as unlikely as a thirteen-year-old kid's social studies assignment makes the whole thing even more remarkable.

The assignment was simple: think of an idea of something you can do that will change the world. And Trevor McKinney, that's the main character, came up with the brilliant idea of Paying It Forward. It's as simple as doing a random good deed to any three people, but instead of asking those people to pay him back, he required them to pay it forward, on to another three people each, and to tell those people to do the same. So at each level, the number of people at the receiving end will keep increasing in cubic integers. After just a few levels, the number of people itself will be more than the population of the world, which just means that there will be more acts of kindness to go around and everyone will be doing and receiving goodness multiple times each.

But there was just one flaw to this whole seemingly-perfect scheme; the guarantee that it will be paid forward in the first place. The whole thing is based on a system of honour that their word will be accounted for and that they will indeed, pass the deed on. But the world just doesn't work that way. We live on a selfish, fast-paced planet full of scumbags who have simply no time or courtesy to go around doing nice stuff for people. We live in a world with violence and hatred and wars and sick, unspeakable things.

But it did indeed strike a chord somewhere in me. It's as simple as that, really. Just doing nice things for people and asking them to pass it along. One idea that could change the world. Why is it that we always expect people to pay us back for a favour we have given them, or when we ourselves are helped in some way, we feel obliged to return the gesture to the same person? Why return when the person has not lost? Why not pass it forward to someone else who really needs it so that the happiness is a thousand, possibly a million fold in the long run and everybody wins?

But I guess life just doesn't work that way. Too bad.

Being Pretentious

2011-12-02T22:56:00.004+08:00

Lately, I've noticed a lot of attention whores on my Facebook friends list. Okay, maybe not lately. I suspect they have been there all this time but I've just been too busy to notice before and now that I'm free to spend my every waking moment online, I tend to notice these things more often every time I log in and scroll down my news feed page.

I have the slut who sleeps with ever guy she meets then proudly posts about it, the praise-seeking bimbo who goes through great lengths to capture extremely appealing shots of herself and uploads them then captions her pics as "OMG I'm so ugly, fat, etc.", the socialite-wannabe who has to update the world on every single thing she is doing every minute on the minute, the annoying couple who can't keep their affectionate comments to themselves and the sadcase bitch who posts too many statuses that show somewhat worrying signs of self-devotion.

Often, I facepalm myself reading these updates and multiple times a day, I question myself as to how I'm even friends with these people and worse, why don't I just remove them from my list since they get on my nerves so much. And then I realised, these people are my only source of personal entertainment. As much as I hate to admit it, I find a sick sense of joy in scoffing and scorning at them everyday, just to remind myself not to follow suit in their idiotic footsteps and at the same time be thankful that I have more brains (and self-respect) than some people out there.

Did you know that ugly girls are easier to get over after a break-up than hot girls? Well, actually there is no proof to support this fact because I just made it up. But how else do you explain so much that has been going on around me lately? I think my theory has to account for something, right?

Yes, I believe it does.

Tuna Puff

2011-12-02T17:36:00.004+08:00

"You can't possibly have Jaundice, can you?" my mum asked curiously, pulling my lower eyelid down with her thumb and peering into my eye.

"Of course not!" I snapped irritably, pulling myself away. "I'm perfectly healthy. The hospital must've messed up my sample."

"I think so too," my mother replied with a sigh. "Anyway, you don't have much of a choice. The nurse called and said they found some abnormalities in your blood. You need to go back there this Friday for a retest just to make sure."

This conversation took place two days ago on Wednesday. Since then, I had gone to work back at Walters' on Thursday, taking care to drink plenty of water and consume more fruits and vegetables than I usually do, just in case it'll help get me a healthier reading the next day. But I knew I shouldn't have kissed that sick dog. And all this while I thought animal diseases weren't contractible by humans. I came home with a slight fever and feeling completely nauseous.

"Well, if you're not feeling well, you better not do that blood test tomorrow," my dad told me at home as I lay on the couch at home that night, covered from head to foot in a thick woolen blanket and sniveling away. "If you really did pick up some virus at the clinic today, it might mess with the readings."

"I'm fine," I sniffed. "I can go tomorrow. I don't want to delay this any longer."

True enough, I was fully better the next day. Well, almost. Halfway there, I got this horrible taste in my mouth and I tried to clutch at my chest and stomach at the same time with one hand while holding onto the window for dear life with the other.

"Here," my mother said worriedly, handing me the wastepaper basket that was in the vehicle. I grabbed it, buried my face in and hurled my insides into it, sputtering and sobbing as the entire length of my throat burned with the regurgitation.

"Now what?" my dad half-yelled from the driver's seat, watching me from the rear view mirror. "Can she still go for the blood test? I don't want to waste my time driving up and down if she has caught some bug now and we go all the way there only to be told that she's not fit and to come back again another day!"

I lifted my head from the little basket long enough to meet my father's eyes in the mirror, choke out the words "I'b fibe" then wretch and heave back into the basket as a fresh wave of hot convulsing vomit left my body. I looked back up again, snot and mucus dripping from every crevice on the front of my face.

My dad snorted in anger but continued our journey to our destination, seeing as we were more than halfway there by now and it was pointless to turn back. I still did that stupid retest and this time the results were perfect. The doctor admitted that it might be due to human or technical error that my first sample reading went a bit awry. So, no. I do not have Jaundice or any such ridiculous disease.

I'm just glad I got it over with. I now have officially nothing to do until Christmas. Except, perhaps, work.

Neverending

2011-11-29T22:14:00.007+08:00

Slow days
Fast days
Days when you feel like you're going to die
Days when you feel like running away from home
Exciting days
Exuberant days
Normal days
Drab days
Random days
Awesome days
Days that never end
Days that end too soon
Sappy days
Crappy days
Happy days
Sad days
Holidays
FTW days
WTF days
OMG days
LOL days
Mexican days
Spanish days
Portugese days
Local days
Holy days
Bright days
Dull days
Days when you're in deep shit
Boring days
Tranny days
Sweet days
Bitter days
Memorable days
Days you just want to forget
Sober days
Drunk days
Hungover days
Proud days
Angry days
Pissed days
Nostalgic days
Frumpy days
Days when you're too tired to give a damn anymore
Days that require too much
Depressing days
Good days
Bad days
Chat days
Lonely days
Thrilling days

Is the word 'days' starting to sound funny to anyone else but me?

2011-11-27T22:22:00.002+08:00

~~My blog is a bitch.~~

Nasi Lemak Bungkus

2011-11-27T20:41:00.009+08:00

"Maaaa!" I whined, holding a plate of food in one hand, a polystyrene cup of cordial juice in the other and looking in dismay at the table my mum was seated at with our relatives at a wedding lunch. There were no available seats at that table or the ones surrounding it.

"Don't be a baby," my mum replied dismissively with a wave of her hand. "Go find somewhere else to sit and finish your food, then come and find us when you're done. We'll be right here."

I grumbled to myself as I walked halfway across the reception hall to find an empty seat. I made a beeline to the first one I saw and asked one of the guys there if it was taken. He answered no and graciously invited me to sit. I looked around the table at the young men seated around me and realised that I was seated with a bunch of the groom's friends whom I didn't even know. Great, I thought. Here I was at a function swarming with people I knew and yet I was stuck eating with a group of strangers.

They minded their business and me mine. I ate in silence while they talked among themselves. Just then, a very sexily-clad girl in a barely-there saree haughtily sauntered past our table. Her blouse was completely backless. Completely. The design just didn't look very elegant on a supposedly traditional costume. Every head at our table turned to look after her, including mine. I rolled my eyes and went back to eating, sure that the men were going to start drooling over her.

The Chinese guy next to me piped up, "Is that a kind of saree?" he addressed his friends in confusion.

"Yup," one of the Indian boys seated across from us answered. "It's a so-called saree."

I suddenly concentrated very intently on the food in front of me to stop myself from snickering. That came as a really unexpected reply.

"I don't know what these girls are thinking, wearing shit like that around. They think it's impressive but they don't realise that it just makes them seem..."

"Slutty?" another Indian guy suggested.

"Exactly. This kind of occasion isn't appropriate to be dressed like that." He turned back to his Chinese friend who had asked. "What this girl is wearing is a proper saree."

He smiled at me briefly and I smiled back. I knew they were just trying to be friendly but what really made my day were the comments they made on the girl that had walked past us just now. I used to think that girls like that were the ones who got all the guys but apparently not. Girls like that only got the wrong guys, not the decent ones.

Looks like there's still hope for us good girls yet.

An Epitome of Pointlessness

2011-11-24T21:50:00.006+08:00

"Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts insteeeeaaaad!!!" I sang, or rather screeched, at the top of my voice.

"What now?!" my mum snapped. I giggled, knowing how much it irked her whenever I randomly burst out into song around the house. She thinks I have a particular reason for everything I sing and is mostly afraid that I'm relating to the lyrics, especially when it comes to love songs. She can't for the life of her just understand that when I hear a random tune on the radio or telly, it's stuck in my head all day and I just have to get it out by letting it out.

"Never mind, I'll find someone like youuuu!!!" I continued.

"YOU BETTER NOT!!" she roared, and I laughed for a good ten minutes.

Mothers.

Well, I'm glad that my break this time around is coming along fine. Unlike all my previous holidays being stuck lifelessly at home rotting my brains out my ears because I'm dying of boredom, I actually have quite a lot on my plate to keep me occupied this time. Thank God.

Here's to brilliant friends who always make my day every bit brighter:

Room

2011-11-23T11:31:00.007+08:00

When I first bought this book last week, I did so based solely on the short synopsis and the reviews on it's back cover. It was lying in the bestsellers section but I had a feeling looking at the other books that were there with it that these were just slow-selling books that no one wanted which the store wanted to get pushing out of the way. So they stacked them right at the entrance where people are bound to see them and yet, everyone still strolled past them and onto the fiction area where there were corny teen novels and cheesy romance novels. I was the only one at that area, and this was the first book that caught my eye, because of it's captivatingly simple cover and even more curious one-worded title. It didn't even say The Room, just Room.

At first, I put it back down to go browse the whole store first to see if I could find anything better before making a purchase but at the back of my mind, I already knew that this was the book I was going home with. And that I did. Even while looking at other novels around the store, nothing could budge my interest like Room did. If there's one word that can sum up my take on the book, it will have to be disturbing. It's a struggle for freedom and what makes it such an unbearable read is that it's all told through the eyes of the innocent five-year-old Jack. I use the word "unbearable" because that's just how the first half of the book is. But it was hauntingly beautiful at the same time. Imagine watching a train wreck happening right before your very eyes. You know the scene is never going to leave your mind in peace for a long time and yet you simply can't bring yourself to look away.

The first night I started reading, I almost couldn't bring myself to continue yet I was still so intrigued to keep going. The climax was like watching a movie. There was literally a tightness in my chest as I flipped the pages, wondering if things were going to turn out okay. No book has ever made me feel so intense, so hats off to Miss Donoghue. However, the second half of the story is pretty flat compared to the first half, yet still better than most books I've read.

The whole story is filled with a sense of desperation and curiosity, the endless struggle for freedom, a twisted perception of the universe, the need to be confined to what's safe and familiar, emerging from darkness and solitude into the light, and the difficulty of adapting to a whole new world which people take for granted everyday. But above all, it is the most stunning story I have ever read on maternal love and how strong a bond between a mother and child is that they are ready to take on anything, even completely foreign realms, as long as they have each other.

Room by Emma Donoghue is a must read.

Mob Mentality

2011-11-22T08:53:00.005+08:00

There's a damn good reason I'm not a sports blogger. Because, well, my knowledge on all things sports-related is painfully limited. It's so limited that it's worse than basic. I don't even watch sports especially, God forbid, football. Unless. of course, there is a really interesting must-watch match going on. But even then, I'd be bugging the men around me a dozen times "Was that an offside? Why is that an offside? It should have been counted! I don't get it! Why why why??"

Last night's Indonesia vs Malaysia SEA Games finals was one of those exceptional matches that I simply could not miss. But far from thronging over to the nearest mamak shop with my tiger striped jersey and face paint on like most football enthusiasts all over the nation did yesterday, I opted to sit at home and watch the game quietly on RTM1 with my parents. There were occasional outbursts and cries of anger and triumph from both me and (surprisingly) my mother, while my dad just snickered and pretended like he couldn't be bothered the whole time.

I was inwardly cheering our national team on the entire time, the reason not so much being that I wanted them to win as much as I wanted Indonesia to lose. This game I watched not for some trophy or cup or gold medal but because it was a question of national pride. After the Indonesians unbelievable hostility and vivid display of cold-blooded hatred to all Malaysian athletes and supporters throughout the entire time they were hosting the 2011 SEA Games, I badly wanted to see us kick their asses at the sport that mattered the most to them which was football. They gave all our players hell, both inside the stadium and out but we still beat them on their own homeground. Our supporters being outnumbered a thousand to one, the Malayan Tigers still managed to pull off a beautiful win during the tie-breaking penalty shootout after extra time.

I was almost biting my nails in anticipation as the scores were tied at 4 all and it had come down to the last penalty shot of the night. Indonesia had missed their final chance and it was all up to our team captain, Baddrol to shoot the ultimate deciding goal. I'm pretty sure the whole country held it's breath for that split second before he ran at the ball to aim his kick. In one heart-stopping moment, it seemed like the Indon goalie had caught it and just as there was about to be the hugest groan that swept through our nation as our hopes were dashed to nothing, the ball sneakily slid passed him and quietly into the net behind him.

It was crazy. I screamed and my parents couldn't help but laugh. There were cries of joy from the shops nearby our housing area. I was pumping my fists in the air with a manic smile plastered on my face. What made my day wasn't the scene of the happy faces of our national team celebrating out on the field but the devastated, defeated looks of the Indonesian players who were moping as if someone had died. Well, in a way, their ego and pride did so yeah.

They were such sore, crybaby losers. After all the drama they put up and unfair fouls called upon our players on the field, they just couldn't accept that they eventually ended up eating our dust. There really is a football god after all. Who cares that in the overall medal tally they're ahead of us? This one sport which meant the most to them, which I'm sure they would've traded in all their gold medals to reign as the champs if they could, they still blew it anyway. Go burn more ticket booths and stampede and destroy stuff and kill like the barbarians that you all are. Nothing's going to change the fact that Malaysia's still better than you.

Okay, okay. I better stop ranting about the Indons. Not all of them are rotten like that. Only the ones who act uncivilized and narrow minded.

But still, we won, you lost. End of story.

Pie Safe

2011-11-20T13:35:00.003+08:00

Having only ever worn jeans, cargo pants, skirts and occasionally dresses whenever I go out, I decided it was time to get myself a decent pair of outing shorts for a change, what with the weather being so bloody hot and all.

What I had in mind:

What my parents think I had in mind:

And so they said:

Indian parents.

Final Chance to do What We do Best, and do it Right

2011-11-20T11:39:00.007+08:00

One last jumpshot attempt (where the hell am I looking?)

Suddenly a wild friend appears and decides to join in on the action. (again, what's over there that I keep looking at that's so interesting?)

Failshot

Biggest failshot ever. Too many photobombs, too.

Sadly, we never got our perfect jumpshot that night, our very last attempt to try and nail it once and for all. But somehow, the shots taken that night, were perfect :)

Nerves of Steel

2011-11-18T22:38:00.003+08:00

"I need someone to brave the storms, to just barge in there without second guessing himself and come out victorious. I need a hero."

So I thought that I'm finally free of all responsibilities and I can finally rot my brains to slush for the next three months or so but it turns out that I have far more on my plate now than I did before. I didn't realise how easy I had it back then. I only had one thing to do; study. And now, there are a million different things I need to get settled. If I could, will I reverse time and go back to that period? Hell, no.

I feel like the time frame allocated is not going to be enough. Well, actually, the period of time I have to get all my things accomplished is more than enough for any regular person but for a world-class procrastinator and lazy ass like myself, it definitely isn't going to be. My priority right now is to have as much fun and relax the best I can and I'm not going to find the time to go on vacations or to go for shopping and movies with the girls if I have to worry about running to every goddamn government department for the next few weeks to get an ample of things done.

There is this one thing I have been putting off for quite some time and I think I may need to get it over with pretty soon. My dad has insisted on me getting it done early next week but I'm freaking out so badly at the thought of it that I begged him to take a reign check on that appointment. I'm trying to delay handling it for as long as I can but I know there's no running from it, I'll eventually have to get it done, latest before I leave the country. If you knew what it was I'm going on about, you'd probably think I was being a baby but you have no idea how freaked out I am, especially since I have never gone for any kind of surgery, no matter how minor, in my life. And I pride myself on this.

Ugh. Okay, okay. Ranting too much. I think it's the sugar rush talking.I think I better go jump around a little until I've cooled down.

If Goodbye Doesn't Cut It

2011-11-16T11:05:00.006+08:00

AVAVAVAVAVAVAVAV! Forever in our hearts.

The usual crazy boys (if you can call them that)

Receiving the award for Most Flamboyant

Models onstage; I'm the only one acknowledging the designer while everyone else is so caught up in the adrenaline of it all and is too busy having the time of their lives up there.

My beloved Kiet, looking extremely handsome on that day

I really do feel like (as tall as) a model next to him

The talented little designer with his models and creations

Presenting awards for a few categories

The sun come out... Tomorrow!

So 1Malaysia. Wait...

Decent group shot

F**k that! XD

The Final Wave

2011-11-15T23:37:00.011+08:00

I can't believe the whole AUSMAT experience is finally over. The past one and a half years just flew by in what feels like a blink of an eye and it's already feeling like nothing but a blur of bittersweet memories and meaningful moments shared with the most amazing people I have been ever so blessed to have grace my life with their presence.

It's insane that all we've ever been looking forward to for the entire semester was the end of our final external examination. Our daily activities were all based on "After SACE, we're doing this" and revolved around "After SACE we're doing that." But the moment our last paper was taken away by the invigilators, all we felt was a numb sense of relief and nothing else. No crazy jumping around or whopping and screaming in joy like monkeys. No explosives or eggs or any form of vandalism was involved. Everyone was perfectly calm and in fact, completely composed. It was as if we were all just walking out of the hall after another ordinary exam, although it definitely was no ordinary exam. The end of our last paper was celebrated by a simple dinner among friends at Nandos, followed by a nighttime boat ride on the lake and high-risk fashion shoots in the middle of a busy main road to movie-marathoning throughout the night then running over to McD for breakfast at an hour so early in the morning that the sky was still dark and the whole area was a ghost town.

Ironically still, life after exams was busier than during or before. Back then, all we had to do was study but now, there were so many things that needed to be accomplished. Those of us on the organizing committee for the graduation dinner were kept busy almost every night with meetings and endless tasks. Since I was part of the committee and involved in performances as well, it almost seemed like I hardly had any time to stop and take a breather in between all those rehearsals and practices. But that didn't mean I was too busy to not drop by my housemate's home to surprise her on her birthday:

Happy Birthday, Kim!

Then, finally. All the preparation and frustrations paid off when everything went smoother than expected on the night of our Grand Dinner. I was so worried that I'd screw up somewhere, having to dance in an almost impossible costume and all, but thankfully, everything turned out fine. Of course, everyone dressed to the nines and I daresay they all looked fabulous!

Smiles :D

The funnest, most diverse table of misfits at the party.

The highlight of the night (for me) had to be the fashion show which I was also a part of, directed and run by none other than our very own Larry Paing or better known as Brittany. He amazed everyone with his hidden creativity and flare for constructing the most amazing accessories out of almost anything. With his pieces ranging from necklaces of spoons to wings of palm leaves to jewellery made out of twisted bits of metal clothes hangers, everything was simply mind-blowing. We have known for a very long time that he is somewhat obsessed with shows like ANTM and Project Runway but we never knew that he was so inspired. At first I was dreading being one of his models (I only agreed because he was desperate and I was his friend) but I ended up feeling immensely proud of him in the end and it was indeed an honour to walk his show.

The very talented designer. Seriously, we're all wondering what he's doing medicine for. With talent like his, he should just quit studying and go join some fashion school and start touring the world with his designs and become famous.

Some of the extraordinary pieces worn by the models during the chaos going on backstage when everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to get ready.

The opening number: Extravagant silver wings and huge silver sunglasses on a metro-model

The closing number; me in a black veil and a very royal headpiece. I embraced the role of the grieving widow and rocked that runway (I think)

Initially, when Larry told me that he wanted me to go last, the only response I had was "Good call. Save the best for last." I honestly didn't mind which order I came out in. Then during rehearsal he told me, "I want you to be over-the-top, but don't do anything you're not comfortable with." So I worked with what I had the best that I could. When the models did our final lap, this time with the designer, Larry walked behind us all and because I was right at the end, he slipped his arm through mine and waved to the crowds as we made our way back down our runway but I had to quietly remind him to let go before the authorities who may not approve of such behaviour spotted us. Later backstage, when we were all rejoicing in our superbly successful night, he told me that it was tradition for the last model to escort the designer down the runway and joked that people here wouldn't get it because they're not exposed to such high fashion shows.

The next morning as I was having my final breakfast with Izzat, he told me the same thing. "Yeah, it's custom for the closing model to link arms with the designer as he does his lap of honour after the show..." Then he said something which caught me off guard. "And, usually closing model tu lah yang paling rapat sekali dengan designer."

"Seriously?" I turned to him with my eyes wide open.

"Yup, seriously," he replied in all sincerity. I bit my bottom lip to stop myself from tearing up. "Boys..." continued Tiffany condescendingly. "They never express the way they really feel."

"But it's Larry we're talking about here," I laughed.

"Honey, no matter what his sexual orientation is, he's still a guy," Tiffany rolled her eyes and I looked out the car window to hide a smile. Larry, if you're reading this, you're awesome and I'm really going to miss you. It'd be impossible to come across anyone like you ever again.

As I took in my view of Shah Alam from Tiffany's car window for the last time, I realised that I wasn't going to be seeing this place in a long time. I didn't expect myself to have any emotional attachment at all to this place but somehow, as much as I hate to admit it, I did feel a slight sense of sadness to see it all go. I didn't even feel this way leaving my high school which was my alma mater of five whole years. Probably because back then, the stakes were smaller and I knew life after wasn't going to be that much different. But now, here we are, at the end of this amazing journey and no one knows what lies ahead. Nobody knows what to expect next. But one thing we all do know is that our fates lie somewhere in a foreign land far from home where new adventures and experiences await us. I realise that this is the only other place I've ever lived anywhere else apart from my home for my entire life and I spent one and a half years here. In some subtle way, this place almost feels like home too.

I'm going to miss everybody. Here's a quick shoutout to some of the ones who have done the most for me:

My dearest Ah Beng, we've been through a lot together and we really do make the best class rep and assistant pair than any other class out there. Fabulous doesn't even begin to define us.

Khairul Tiffany Izzat; the bestest friend I have through my college life. You've been there for me through everything and I doubt I'd ever be able to repay you in this lifetime or the next. Thank you.

Besides them, if I had to show appreciation to each and every person in INTEC who has touched my life in some way, this post will never end. How in the world did we all get to be so close in just under two years, with the bonds so strong and relationships almost inseparable that we've become something like family? Probably because we all think on the same wavelength and are so united in our stand that we bring out the best in each other. I'm sure that I'll never be able to find people like this anywhere I go from here on now.

Even if I do, I doubt they'll be nearly half as awesome.

Give Her A Break

2011-11-08T18:30:00.003+08:00

Whether it's monkey love
Or puppy love
Or dumbass love

It's still love.

The Bettong

2011-11-06T08:21:00.002+08:00

Sometimes, the people immediately around you are the biggest pain in the asses and the root cause of most of your frustration and feelings of worthlessness. But often, you find yourself having to bite back any bitter comebacks for the sake of keeping the peace. Even more often still, these idiots tend to take you for granted, assuming that since you're too civilised to throw tantrums then you must be absolutely fine with anything they do. And this is when they tend to take things too far and you finally snap.

Pranks. I'm always up for them. I mean, who doesn't love a good laugh? Since I like getting my friends every now and then, I can take it when they get back at me too, and laugh at myself if it's all done in good humour. But, whether it's doing them onto others or being the target of one myself, I believe that all pranks should be in moderation, with the limits in sight. Good prankers should know when a joke has been made through and call the thing off before it gets ugly. Dumbasses are fueled by the misery of others and are in fact encouraged to take it to the next level of meanness seeing how effective their stupid trick is tormenting the other person. Talk about sadism.

I can confidently say that I'm in the former of the two abovementioned groups. Yes, I do enjoy fooling around with the people I'm close to but at least I know when things are getting too far. One good example I can think of is this incident some time back where one of my friends was in the shower and me and another friend stole her clothes and towel as a twisted joke. I know, kid stuff right? But if my memory serves me correctly, when the victim started yelling for her towel back, I was the one who kept insisting we should give it to her while my accomplice kept refusing, saying we should hold on to it a bit longer and see how she reacts next. Now at that time, the weather was freezing cold as it had been raining outside, and it was quite a late hour in the night. All this added together and the friend in the bathroom was taking a cold shower. I didn't intend for her to catch pneumonia or anything so in the end, I was the one who returned her towel eventually.

Even when hiding friend's belongings and making them work up a sweat finding them, you don't take something of paramount importance to them, especially when they need it the most. I probably do this most often but I always be sure to take something that they can live without, then give it back to them as soon as I can see that they're getting really worried. So, with all due respect, I don't think I take my pranks too far, unlike some people who seem to lose all form of common sense amidst the excitement.

I guess the difference between me and some other prankers is that I actually use my fucking brains when pulling them.

Word

2011-11-04T11:27:00.000+08:00

I swear, when this is over, all hell is going to break loose.

Jug Chug

2011-10-30T10:41:00.002+08:00

Fine, fine.

For those of you who haven't seen me in ages and are insisting for pictures of the transformation, I'm doing this for you guys based on popular demand (well, the demand is not that popular, I just kinda want to myself):

From this

To this

Not that much of a difference I would say. Except that it's neater, much more manageable and makes my features look sharper.

Ahem.

Break or Die

2011-10-29T21:20:00.006+08:00

One of the more decent shots I have with the tranny (aunty photobomb)

The lovely girls of AV

YAY! Tranny again!

High Fashion 1

High Fashion 2

High Fashion 3

The best class (and lecturers) ever. I'm going to miss all of you guys.

Too Cool to Hold Your Hand

2011-10-29T21:01:00.005+08:00

So I'm going to be a bit narcissistic. This post is going to be all about my new hair. Deal with it.

Okay, so weirdly but not unexpectedly, this new hairdo of mine is getting me a lot of attention. Couldn't say I didn't see that one coming. I understand that my friends need some adjusting and getting used to this new me. But I don't get these people. Sure, I'd say I look different but people are treating me as if I'm downright unrecognisable and they actually mean it, no exaggeration.

You wouldn't believe the number of people I've acknowledged or waved to who have returned my smile awkwardly, walked past, do a double-take then ask me "You're Pathma, right?" just to confirm. Then when I nod my head in approval or open my mouth to speak and they hear my voice and realise it really is me, they freak out and go all "OMG OMG OMG IT IS YOU I SWEAR I COULDN'T RECOGNISE YOU." So far, I've had plenty of different kinds of feedback from various people but generally, they all agree on the same thing: that I look really good in straight hair but it just doesn't define my personality because it's too girlish. Ugh, whatever.

However, the attention is not all bad or unwanted. So far, I've had guys who have previously never spared me a second glance suddenly asking if they could sit with me at study hall. They've gone from "Hi-bye" to "Wanna grab dinner together?" and "You have a boyfriend?" in less than a day. And all because of the hair. I mean, like, seriously? I'm not saying I hate the sudden turn of events, but how much more superficial can boys get?

In a way, I guess I'm slowly adapting to this new look as well. Now every time I look in the mirror I don't feel like a complete stranger is staring back at me.

That's progress.

Lace Clouds

2011-10-27T08:04:00.006+08:00

So, Deepavali this year wasn't as drab as I was anticipating it to be. In fact, it was really good. With all my friends crashing the place and getting too comfortable to the point of not leaving, I'm guessing everyone had good time.

I was a bit worried at first as to how we were going to manage such a big crowd but they proved to be no trouble at all, entertaining themselves and making themselves very much at home. They all had big meals then spent the day lazing around the house, lying on their stomachs in the living room, playing chess and watching tv, some were up to their ridiculous photoshooting antics as usual out on the porch where they almost broke my mother's wind chimes... twice. After they were gone, I did a bit of visiting of my own, just to drop by on old high school friends and then later to an uncle's place. Talk about tiring. I conked out in the car on the journey home.

The first thing that struck me this morning as I woke up was a pang of regret and panic. The realisation that my finals were less than a week away and I had spent the last three days having a good time and not studying gripped my heart with fear and I kicked off the day feeling really depressed. With all the excitement of the previous day wearing off rapidly, I have nothing left to look forward to anymore except the end of my examinations. God, please help me pull through this.

Well, off to try and get some studying done, whatever help that is going to do. And with credits to Tiffany, this right here is one of the best digital Deepavali greetings I have ever gotten. And for those of you gaping at how odd I look in straightened hair, I can assure you that I was facepalming my way all the way back from the saloon asking myself what I was thinking. I still need some time getting used to this new look.

Humanity vs Dogity

2011-10-24T10:19:00.004+08:00

I was just telling my friends the other day, as we sat in shock around my laptop fresh after watching that new trending video of a two-year-old girl in China who got run over by not one but two heavy vehicles and was left to die ignored on the road, of how shameful it is that animals are showing more compassion than humans these days. For instance, just look at the comparison of the two pictures up there. The one on the right is the one I mentioned. It is absolutely appalling how passers-by just walk past the writhing child lying in a pool of her own blood on the street, some hardly sparing her more than a glance while others pretended to be completely oblivious as if she was some ordinary roadkill or something. Then we have on the left, a dog struggling with all his might trying to help push his dead friend off the road and onto the grassy bank at the side out of the way of oncoming cars. I don't know which made me want to cry more.

On the topic of compassionate animals, it is not uncommon to hear of our four-legged friends often displaying human-like emotions these days. There was that famous e-mail circulating a few years back about this stray dog in Japan that sat by it's dead friend in the middle of a busy highway and cried after trying fruitlessly to wake him up before realising he was gone. Then a similar case of a cat that not only sat by it's dead friend but brought it food for a week hoping it'll wake up and eat. And of a mother cat who came back from hunting food to find her four kittens shot, beheaded and tortured by some bastards who are most surely going to rot in hell, she stayed up all night licking them, hoping it would somehow revive them. And of course, that famous Nat Geo documentary many years ago that brought the world to shock when a vicious leopard attacked and killed a mother monkey for its food but hadn't the heart to harm its helpless, tiny little one-month-old baby. Instead, the leopard licked it, cuddled it and nursed it as it it were its own. Astounding how their sympathy goes beyond the boundaries of species.

And here we have our own kind, supposedly the superior beings over these simple-minded creatures we share our planet with, behaving worse than crap. Around us we have abortions and baby dumpings when animals in the wild have such insanely strong maternal instincts towards their newborns. In everyday life we have brutal killings and cruelty among people of different races when creatures from whole other species are stretching out a helping hand (or paw) to each other, going against their natural predatory nature. Why?

When asked, the people in the video who walked past the dying girl said that they were afraid to hold responsibility because they might have to pay for all the girls expenses as the witness who found and helped her. I mean, seriously?!! Money?!! That cliche saying that this evil green stuff runs the world, well, it's cliche for a reason. If it were me or any other person with sense from any other part of the world other than goddamn China, money and finance would be the last thing on our minds looking at such a traumatic scene as that.

Some say it is one of the signs of the apocalypse, when humans start becoming dumber than animals. Yes, I think it is not wrong to believe this.

Ladies and gentlemen, the end is near.

Fly from Here

2011-10-23T09:00:00.003+08:00

Deepavali this year should be the most depressing one of all. I mean, it's the last Diwali I have to spend here in Malaysia with my family for the next five years or so and instead of running home to join in the fun like everyone else, I'm stuck here at hostel for my study leave. I stayed back by choice, of course, because I know I can never get any studying done with all the distractions at home. If it were any other exam, I'd say "screw it" and go back anyway but this is something different. This is probably the most important exam I have to sit for at this point in my life. I am missing out on all the cookie-baking and muruku-making fun, I haven't even shopped for any new clothes this time and I doubt I can go out and hang with my cousins like I do every pre-Deepavali.

I say it should be the most depressing Diwali of a lifetime, because it's actually not. If anything, I feel quite content and at peace right here. I can't lie by saying that I'm not itching to go back, but the urge is controllable. Never mind the fun I'm missing, I feel surprisingly okay. I will be going back on Deepavali eve, though, or else to spend it here would be just plain suicidal. And I wonder how many of them are ~~crashing~~ ~~inviting themselves~~ coming over to my place for lunch this year. Last year it was a madhouse as I didn't expect so many to arrive, ambushing my home without warning. But this year, I'm prepared and I've told them all to RSVP me so that it doesn't end up in another food shortage like last year.

Time to hit the books.

The Price of Misery

2011-10-21T23:12:00.002+08:00

"Do you wanna see?" I asked her, half-laughing. I was surprised at how easy and carefree I was about something that once tore at my soul and made me want to die.

"Yeah, sure, if that's okay with you," she replied a little uncertainly.

Realising that I didn't have any such photos with me, I remembered the one storage space where I did have a few last remaining pictures of a time that seemed so long ago. I opened a new tab on the Internet browser and typed in the link to my blog where I sifted through the archives at the right hand side of the page till I found what I was looking for.

"This is it," I smiled, looking at the birthday post dated more than two years ago.

"Oh..." her voice trailed off as she observed the pictures silently. "Why don't you just delete this post?"

I flopped over onto my stomach on my bed and propped myself up on my elbows to look at the screen. Seeing pictures of us after what seemed liked an eternity was not at all awkward; neither was it nice nor did it cause any painfully unpleasant memories to resurface. The feeling was just completely indifferent. "I don't know. Didn't cross my mind, I guess."

"You wanna do it now?" she asked cautiously.

"Nah," I laughed. "Why bother? Seriously, it's not hurting anyone. Let it be there. Who knows, it might provide me with a good laugh someday in the future."

I studied the photos like an antiquarian would scrutinize some interesting artifact uncovered after a really long period of time. I don't remember them ever being this horrible. I used to think they were really cute when they were first taken. "Man, we look like crap," I said, almost to myself.

"That you guys do. Seriously, ya'll look weird with each other."

"I know, right?" I smiled as I settled myself back down comfortably on my pillow.

I exhaled quietly and hid a smile as I realised that the past can never come back to haunt me anymore. Time heals anything and in fact, everything.

Monkey Cub

2011-10-21T18:41:00.004+08:00

20 October

Hew Yen Qi, 19

"And I was like, giiirrrlll... You don't wanna go there and she was like..."

"Shut up, bitches!It's my birthday! Let's take a picture together to commemorate the day!"

"Okay" :-<

"Heard that, world? It's my birthday and I'm awesome!"

Purple Nosed Bunny

2011-10-20T06:52:00.002+08:00

I clutched my head with my hands and sucked in a deep breath through gritted teeth. Before I could stop them, I felt the tears cling heavily at the edge of my lashes before sliding down my cheek and splashing onto the surface of the polished wooden table.

"Oh," he said softly, almost apologetically. "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just thought you should know."

"I'm not crying because I'm upset, these are tears of joy. Because I'm so thankful I have you."

What would I do without you?

Courts Affairs

2011-10-18T08:51:00.001+08:00

Boo-hoo, my life is shit my life is shit (whines like a bitch).

For fuck's sake, your life ain't shit.

YOU ARE.

C17

2011-10-16T20:05:00.002+08:00

Giiiiirrrlllll....

What is wrong with the world lately? Everything either seems to be upside down or going in circles, which is really bugging me out. It's back to square one for some, an unexpectedly refreshing welcome for others yet a discouragingly glum start to most. When will everyone just learn to be happy with what they have and shut up and move on with life already?

And here I am stuck in the abysmal transition between happiness and loss. What if things never go back to the way they were before?

God, I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore.

Tingling Feet

2011-10-14T15:28:00.003+08:00

I'm very sensitive when it comes to anything having to do with broken/dislocated/fractured bones. Wait, let me rephrase that: I'm very sensitive when it comes to anything having to do with broken/dislocated/fractured human bones. I feel nauseous just looking at them (even in pictures), I get all jittery and often stuff my fingers in my ears when I hear about them and I think I'd go completely out of my mind if (God forbid) I ever experienced any myself. Well, actually I did once, four years ago, and that experience has traumatised me out of my wits now each time I think about it or hear of someone who has gone through a similar kind of pain.

But, with reference to the above statement, I somehow only feel this way with humans and not animals. I've boldly held a stray dog's dislocated paw to inspect it of any fractures after it was run over by a car once. And recently the cat that got hit by a motorcycle in my hostel compound had the bone of it's hind leg split so bad it was protruding out of it's flesh and was bleeding itself to death. I don't know how but I actually managed to wrap it securely so that the poor thing could support some weight on that leg. Both times, I merely cringed before taking immediate action. But yesterday, a friend of mine was unfortunate enough to dislocate her little finger playing basketball and I swear I'm the one who almost fainted when I saw it, even when she herself was still steady on her feet.

In light of that, I would like to dedicate a little shoutout to this brave friend of mine who can afford to laugh in the face of unexpected misery and still be all smiles when anyone else in her position would probably have an emotional breakdown, seeing as our all-important externals are in less than 20 days and she has her right hand all bandaged up that it's a wonder she can hold a pencil much less write for five 3-hour long papers. I'm proud of you.

Wishing you a speedy recovery.

Collectors Item

2011-10-11T11:42:00.001+08:00

The last time I walked down this road, he was with me.

Now I've never felt so alone in my life.

I hope his soul is happy in heaven.

Kiwitea

2011-10-09T11:42:00.004+08:00

Why is it that just as there seemed to be a glimmer of hope of things finally picking themselves up towards the finish line, a whole new bunch of complications and heartache must come crashing down my way?

I tell you, this whole business about arranging for my future accommodation in New Zealand is starting to cause me a huge headache. I received the e-mail of acknowledgement from the administrations office two days ago, compared them with my friends and saw that I'm the only one being sent to a different residential hall from the rest of them and cried. Then I saw that the fees I had to pay was a significant amount higher than theirs too (and with the exchange rate from Malaysian ringgit to NZ dollars, do the math) and cried even harder. I swear I was so miserable on that day. Then I did the the stupidest thing by making an appeal to the admin to allow me to switch halls to the same one as the others so I wouldn't be left out. Slim chances of that happening but a girl can hope, right?

Thankfully, I spoke to one of my seniors who is currently there and he was a huge help. He explained that the hall I got was one of the best and that I'm bound to be really happy there as the community there is the closest and most friendly compared to the residents at the other halls. He also mentioned that the distance from my hall to my peers isn't exactly that far and is only a couple of minutes away. Words can't describe the immense sense of relief that washed over me as I processed this. Now I honestly don't mind getting either hall. If my appeal isn't approved I don't mind staying right where they offered me but if it is, all the better then.

Now that that's over, I still have to crack my head reading the thick attachment of contracts and agreements and forms and stuff that they had sent me. It's going to take me a while to go through all of it and I only have a two-week deadline despite the ever-nearing externals that is creeping closer by the day. How I'm ever going to manage my time sure beats me.

I guess the one thing I really am worried about is the confusion of the payments. I see a whole bunch of clauses on deposit fees and accommodation fees and all the different methods or options I have to settle them. And I regret to say that I don't quite fully understand a single one of them. I wish I had taken finance or banking or something so I would be able to understand all these technical terms. I don't even know who to turn to for help. Ugh.

Then there is still all that background worrying of the things to anticipate (which are all out of my control) when I do eventually get there. Will I get rowdy, inconsiderate hall mates that will make my life miserable? Will I be bullied or discriminated for my race or nationality? I sure hope not. I hope the people there are all nice and friendly. New Zealand, after all, is the most peace-loving country in the world right? So there shouldn't be a problem adapting.

Yeah.

Are You Ready, Kids?

2011-10-09T11:05:00.004+08:00

Spongebob: Err, Patrick? I think you better see a doctor.
Patrick: I can't do that! My job doesn't cover health insurance!
Spongebob: What job?
Patrick: Exactly!

Spongebob Squarepants, entertaining (and subliminally perverting) kids since 1999.

Forked Tail

2011-10-08T16:50:00.002+08:00

What's an antineutrino?
-The antiparticle of a neutrino.
*eyes widen* Mother of God, we're learning about antimatter in this chapter?
-Yes.
Finally! Something interesting! I'm going to wake up now and start paying attention!

The Teddy with the Patched Heart

2011-10-07T20:53:00.006+08:00

You know what?

The picture above is an almost accurate representation to what I feel everytime I watch a romantic movie. I say almost because for me, the red portion of the pie chart is way bigger.

This week has been one sappy week for me. I tell people I hate tear-jerkers because they're all so cheesey and not worth my time but the harsh truth is that I'm really afraid they'll make me cry and get me all worked up. Hey, I cry bloody easily at the lamest movies and I'm not ashamed to admit that I have even shed tears for many Disney movies as well. Which is why I try as much as possible to keep away from love stories, especially the ones which I know are really heartbreaking.

I know it's been around for quite some time now but only this week I finally came to terms with my fears and read Ps, I Love You in three days (which is a real feat seeing as the book is over 500 pages long and I had classes to attend to as usual in between). And many times throughout the book I did feel emotionally overwhelmed. I know it's just a dumb story but it really does put life into perspective because it makes you realise that the time you share with your loved ones might be limited so you should make every moment count.

Then I got a classmate of mine to transfer A Walk To Remember to me, a movie which I have been secretly longing to watch but have just been too scared to do it on my own because I pretty much know the storyline and I know I'm going to be needing plenty of tissues for it. And now, the movie is still safely stored away in some file on my laptop, unwatched. I'm waiting for the right moment before I crank it open and cry my eyes out on it.

I know these stories are so old school and most of you are probably thinking "What, you haven't watched/read that yet?" but like I said, I've been putting them off for quite some time now. The last sappy movie I watched was The Notebook and if I were watching that alone, the waterworks never would've ceased. Only problem was that I was watching it with my cousins so I had to put up a macho facade by gritting my teeth and putting on my best I-don't-care poker face. But other than that, I've cried enough times for Wall-E and Up, both of which I find to have extremely deep meanings for a children's movie.

What do I really have against touching movies and books?

You should know.

The Missing Piece of the Puzzle

2011-10-03T09:11:00.002+08:00

But I gave it to you. I distinctly remember giving it to you. How can you say you don't have it? More still, how can you claim that I had it with me the whole time and didn't give it to you in the first place? I know for a fact I did. Okay, okay. Fine, I won't argue with you. Because I'm really pressed for time. Maybe you're right and it was with me the whole time but you were with me when I lost it so can you at least help me look for it? Please, don't leave me hanging when I need you most. I really need to find it. I can't sleep well at night without it. I can't go home without it, my mother wouldn't let me into the house. Please don't walk away just stay and help me search for it. I can't scrounge for it on my own, I'll never find it. I need your help. Please.

Harland

2011-10-01T15:51:00.002+08:00

"Back then everything was so crazy and fast-paced and intense. Maybe that was just a crush. Right now things are much slower and mellow and definitely less passionate but I've never been happier. Maybe this is love."

"Maybe."

"What do you think?"

"What does it matter what I think? Who am I to say what love is?"

Heard That?

2011-09-30T18:20:00.001+08:00

The Velvet Bunny

2011-09-30T10:26:00.002+08:00

Talk about uncanny

Models: Chocolato Chen & September's edition of my doggy calendar

Indian Inspired Burrito

2011-09-29T00:43:00.002+08:00

This comic strip here may look simple, but trust me it was a lot of work.

But it was definitely worth the trouble.

I dedicate this to my dearest friend who knows more about flags than anyone I've ever met.

Thanks for making my day.

Dark Days Ahead

2011-09-28T14:50:00.005+08:00

As I leaned against the cool metal railing of the ice-skating rink at Sunway Pyramid, watching my friend Shekinah take to the ice, all I felt was a huge sense of relief that my trials were finally over and that the next (and last) hurdle I had to face as an undergrad was still a month away. So, I was planning to make the most of my five-day break before going back to square one: kiasu-ing myself out of my mind for my externals.

It was then that I noticed, from the corner of my eye, a creepy looking African guy also leaning against the railing a few feet away, staring at me intensely. I pretended not to notice but I was starting to get pretty uncomfortable.

"How are you?" he suddenly mumbled. I jumped a little and turned to face him. I gave him a tiny smile and inched a few feet away without answering him.

"Are you from around here?" he asked again, leaning in closer. Now usually, I would be gracious to tourists but this guy was leering at me in such a scary way that all I wanted to do was break into a sprint and get the hell out of there. He rephrased his question; "Are you of India nationality?"

"No, I'm Malaysian." I answered in a small voice, moving backward.

"Oh," he eyed me up and down. "You are very beautiful." I could normally handle a compliment from a stranger no matter how awkward the situation might be but just the way he said it and the look he was giving me sent a shiver down my spine. Unsure how to respond, I muttered an almost inaudible thank you as I started to walk away.

"Are you here alone?" he tried to sound sultry.

"No, I'm waiting for a friend." I was practically walking backwards now.

"Oh, where's your friend?" he challenged.

"She's on her way," I replied hastily.

He inched closer. "But you really are very beautiful," he crooned again. At that moment, even though I was in one of the largest shopping malls in the country, surrounded by people all around, I have never felt more terrified or alone.

"I have to go," I literally turned and ran, and I didn't stop until I was sure he was out of sight. As I slowed to a brisk walk, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in one of the shop windows. I was decently dressed in jeans and a blouse and I even had a shawl draped around my shoulders. If that wasn't conservative dressing, then I don't know what is. I wonder what the hell gave that creep the wrong idea.

Lesson of the day: Being mistaken for a hooker is bad enough but being mistaken for a hooker by a horny ugly African just sucks.

Choco Balls

2011-09-27T20:36:00.000+08:00

Hypochondriac

2011-09-27T20:26:00.001+08:00

Oh my God God God God. Look! LOOK!!! You know who that freaking looks like?

I know.

Oh my God. HAHAHAHA. This is insane! This is totally bizarre. Oh my God he looks exactly alike. Oh my God.

Okay, stop staring. You're going to freak him out.

Are you sure that isn't really him? That's not him, is it?

It's not!

But it's impossible! How can two completely random people look so much alike?! Like, shit ass similar! HAHAHAHAHA (buries face in backpack to muffle screams of laughter)

OMG, stop it! Stop staring.

Sorry, sorry. I can't help it. I find it too amusing. HAHAHAHAHA. Okay, okay. (deep breath). If I turn to look again, snap my head back around for me. (turns to look again literally two seconds later).

(smacks head)

Ow! Sorry, I just can't stop staring. God, I wish he was here to see this. Imagine the two of them sitting side by side. HAHAHAHA. I'm going to take his picture.

WHAT??! NO! Don't be stupid. (snatches phone away)

Don't worry, he's asleep. And he's not even looking this way. I know what I'm doing. Hang on. (angles phone discreetly and zooms)

*click*

Look at that! Look at that look at that!!! HAHAHAHA. This is absurd! It's kinda blurry because he's too far but doesn't he look exactly like him?

Yeah. Especially the ears.

EXACTLY! And every other feature of his face too. And his dressing and his posture. You SURE it isn't really him? HAHAHAHA. Sorry I can't stop laughing, this is just so bloody amazing. HAHAHAHAHA.

Pathma, you just took a picture of a completely random dude on the train. What the hell is wrong with you?

Local Branch

2011-09-23T15:22:00.004+08:00

Give me a few examples of incandescent sources of light.
Hmmm. A lot lah. Light bulb, filament... Basically anything that is hot.
*innocent face* So, I'm incandescent?
=.="

Talking About Moving

2011-09-18T00:18:00.003+08:00

Is it just me or have tempers been running at an all time high, stress levels skyrocketing through the roof, depression lurking around every corner and tears streaming like burst pipes all over the place?

Oh, wait. It's not just me.

When is this torture going to end? I can't believe we all have to endure this shit for another two months. And that won't even signify the end of our journey yet. Far from that, it'll only be the beginning of much more to come. Whatever it is, I can't wait to get this first phase over and done with then worry about the future later.

At least this time, I'm not alone. This time it's collective and when it's in a group, it's not so bad because you know you're not the only one and everyone else is facing the same thing as well so we'd all probably make it through together (if we ever do make it through). So for once, I say thank you to peer pressure.

And for goodness sake, stop overthinking, overthinking overthinking.

2011-09-16T00:27:00.001+08:00

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

If You Write Back

2011-09-16T00:11:00.005+08:00

The wedding-style shoot with the boss, who is cleverly posing in a sitting position to cover for the fact that I'm taller than him in heels :P

Teddy :)

Razi, the ultimate trendsetter

The lovely bunch

The junior girls

Fabulous: AUSMAT's version of Bollywood

Damnit, I can't believe I'm going to get all cheesey when I clearly told myself I wouldn't. Thank you to everyone for making the journey over the past year such a fun-filled and meaningful one. I couldn't have asked for better people to have shared it with.

Come and Gone

2011-09-15T23:07:00.002+08:00

Roughly thirty years (or so) ago, my mum was asked for her hand in marriage by this guy. Due to some disagreements and timing inconveniences, her family had to turn down the offer. That dude has now gone on to become currently the second richest man in the country. What sick jokes life can play on us, huh?

However, when I asked my mum whether she feels any regret, all she did was laugh and answer; "Not at all." I joked by telling her I know she couldn't have asked for better than her husband to keep her happy but I secretly knew that she was just grateful to be blessed with such beautiful and intelligent children.

Ahem.

But no, seriously. It's fun to think of what could have been if things in the past had worked themselves out differently than what they had. I could potentially be a billionaire's daughter today. I would be filthy rich, buying myself anything and everything I ever wanted. Money would never be an issue. The world would be at my beck and call.

Yes, it all sounds good but honestly, I would never want to be brought up like that. Being rich may seem all glamorous on the outside but God only knows the burden you'd have to put up with for having more money on your hands than you know what to do with. I could grow up to be a spoilt brat who has no sense of independence. I would not have any freedom to even step out anywhere and have a good time on my own as a regular teenager without the constant worry of being kidnapped to be demanded of ransom. I would never be able to sleep in peace worrying how I'd survive if my dad went into debt. Nah, it'd just be too much.

I'm honestly thankful for the life I have. Growing up in a middle class family, I still got everything I have ever asked for and much more. Never in my nineteen years alive have my parents ever told me that they couldn't afford to get me something I wanted. My family is still intact, I have nice clothes in my wardrobe, good food to eat, enough money to spend and a roof over my head. Living in complete moderation has taught me to be grateful and has shaped me into the strong person that I am today.

Okay, Oprah moment.

Last Reference

2011-09-10T18:18:00.004+08:00

"Hmmm?"

He mumbled something again, even more incoherently than before.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It wasn't what you think."

"Errr... Yeah. That's okay," I wasn't sure how to respond to his sudden statement. We walked a short distance in small talk before I finally excused myself. Here was someone who was trying real hard to clear something with me and I didn't have the heart to tell him that I honestly didn't care.

But I still tried to hide a smile as I walked away. When someone finds the need to justify their actions to you, it shows that your opinion still matters to them.

Interpretive Dancing

2011-09-09T20:55:00.003+08:00

I thought that the roller-coaster feelings of depression and helplessness which used to overwhelm me and suck the living joy out of me a few months ago were gone for good but apparently they're not. With just two months left to the finish line, I'm once again questioning myself on whether I can really make it and I simply can't shake off the disturbing thought of the huge possibility that I can't. Can I just give up and go curl into a ball in a corner? What's the point of putting in so much of effort if it's all going to be fruitless anyway?

The only thing that has kept me going this entire week is, as usual, Tiffany. This week, we bitched about random low-budget models in low-budget magazines until we cried laughing, fed Omnom to the point of bursting, bitched some more about everything in general, indulged in a long and soul-searching discussion on God and religion, did a beautiful forest-themed photoshoot and went on a spree of table turning (don't ask). I don't think I've met a more optimistic and carefree person in my life.

When is some of that going to rub off on me?

Newcastle Magpies

2011-09-03T09:39:00.004+08:00

What do you do when you have one of the greatest days but you can't tell anyone about it?

I can't believe my two-week break is almost over and I have accomplished... Well, pretty much what I had targeted. My holidays are normally never this productive. I'm glad about that because that means I won't have ay last minute scrambling to do when I get back to class. I just wish I could've done a bit more revision than I had though, what with trials coming up and all. I finished my assignments and read through stuff that was necessary in the first week then completely didn't touch a single book and let my brains ro to mush the second week. By the end of which I felt as if I had forgotten all that I had studied in the previous week.

Oh, well. That's a risk I'm willing to take.

But, even with a whole bunch of exams coming up and the life-and-death finals around the corner, I'm feeling surprisingly calm and composed about going back there to face all of it again. Usually I'd be heavy-hearted and freaking out when I need to go back there after a break but this time it's good. I feel well rested and ready to go back to the crazy hecticness that is college life there.

Here's to formal letters and expensive lunches and beautiful gardens infested with squirrels and birds of all kind and glittering lakes with ducks chasing one another across the surface and fishy looking geese emerging from behind bushes.

Morning After Dark

2011-09-01T11:22:00.003+08:00

OMG Tiff, you ain't gonna believe this!
What what? He e-mailed you naked pictures of himself didn't he? I knew it! Forward them to me, pleeease? *pleadingeyes*
What?! EEEWWWWW NO! Hahahaha. But you're half right. It does have something to do with him. Tiff, you're a mind reader!
Pfft, please. It's so obvious. Who else will it be about? What did he do this time?
I have a very strong feeling he lied and now he's just covering up.
Honey, you do have strong feelings (for him).
I do NOT!
Deny it all you want, girlfriend. The fact is still a fact. As if I don't know your last blog post was about him?
HIM? It had nothing to do with him, honestly.
Yeah, right. Who you trying to kid? I can read you through and through, Patsy.
Seriously, you know who I had a crush on and you know it's not him. He's such a flirt I'm just sick of it.
Seriously, he's flirting around now?
Duh, hasn't he always?
Hmmm, so right now he's flirting with every girl he sees... Which can only mean one thing.
He's trying to get over the pain of not getting me?
Yeeaaahhh... Whatever you tell yourself to sleep at night, honey. Sweet dreams.
TIFFAAAANNNNYYYYY!!!!! X-O
Weml, Patsy. XOXO.

Backhanded

2011-08-31T15:42:00.003+08:00

"God!" he exclaimed as I stepped out the front gates and into view of him leaning against the hood of his car, waiting for me. He eyed me up and down, his mouth agape. "What the hell is wrong with you today?"

I grinned. "If that's your way of saying I look hot, then thank you." He rushed forward and opened the door of the passenger seat as I approached his car.

"Please, allow me." Now it was my turn to stare at him wide-eyed. No one has ever pulled open doors for me before. Well, I might as well enjoy the attention while it lasts. He gestured towards the seat. "After you, ma'am." I couldn't help but laugh as I got in. I let him close the door for me before he made his way around the car and got behind the wheel.

The rest of our journey was spent in merry conversation, the two of us chatting up a storm with the chemistry we naturally shared. I was almost sorry to get down when we reached our destination.

"Well, thanks for the lift," I told him. I already had one hand on the handle when he stopped me.

"Wait."

"Hmmm?" I turned back to face him.

"Hope to see you around," he said.

"Don't worry, you definitely will." I smiled.

He reached forward to hug me and I let him. "Well, take care then."

I leaned my head into his neck and all was right with the world again.

Red Blimp

2011-08-30T00:08:00.001+08:00

Summertime
And the weather's hot
Saying long goodbyes
In the parking lot
Little things
Darling, no one knows
Lip to lip we met
On my backdoor step
And I thought you were the one
I thought that
I thought

Miracle Child

2011-08-28T19:24:00.004+08:00

Josh has six sandpiles. Tammy has half the number of sandpiles Josh has and Mervin has three times as many sandpiles as Tammy. If you combined all their sandpiles, how many would you have?

None.

But why?

Because the sandpiles belong to them. I wouldn't have any.

Ok, ok. Fine! Let me rephrase the question then. If Josh, Tammy and Mervin combined THEIR sandpiles, how many sandpiles would THEY have?

18.

Nope. Just one BIG pile of sand. HAHAHAHAHA.

T__________T

Challenge of the Week: Expressing Your Inner V (Updated)

2011-08-27T22:20:00.006+08:00

Tattletale Monster

2011-08-26T12:01:00.000+08:00

:'(

Change the World Overnight

2011-08-24T21:26:00.004+08:00

"I'm not plump, I'm curvy." That's what fat people say.

"I'm beautiful in my own way." That's what ugly people say.

"I don't need a man to complete me." That's what fat AND ugly people say.

"At least we're still winners at heart." That's what losers say.

Reaching the Top

2011-08-23T21:27:00.006+08:00

I realise that I haven't written a proper post in quite a while now. I don't know, there just isn't anything much going on these days. Occasionally, things pop up that make me want to write about them but when I actually get around to doing it, I decide they're not that interesting anyway. I try to refrain from blogging about petty stuff like how I got a new hairdo (which I did, just saying) because that's just sad if you think the whole world is interested in something as lame as that.

This morning, I woke up and the first thing that flew across my mind was "Damnit, my phone!" followed by "Damnit, my hair!" and there I was, two of the most important things ruined before my day had even started. And then I immediately started to get all depressed thinking of how I'm probably going to die alone. I know, that came completely out of nowhere. Lately I watch couples on tv and they make everything look so easy and wonderful but what they fail to tell you is that it isn't.

See what I mean? And why is it that they're all beautiful people? Who looks like that in real life? That really adds pressure for girls like me. Do you have to be that skinny and gorgeous to find love? If yes, then I'm screwed.

They say that there is someone out there for everyone. I see myself in the future running a shelter home for abandoned animals and living with dogs and cats for company. That is just sad. Noble but sad. Maybe I want to spend my days cuddling with something less furry too?

If I can find someone to grow old with, someone who will love me through time even when I'm a wrinkly old hag, that'll be great. But unfortunately, I don't believe that is quite possible.

There's no such thing as everlasting love. That kind of thing only exists in movies. I know my take on relationships is pretty twisted at this point but it's a fact. I feel like crying sometimes because the only form of eternal, unconditional love you can ever hope to find only comes from pets. No, you can't find a living being who won't judge you or unlove you because well, they're human after all. If I can somehow just magically transform a loyal, fun-loving dog into a cute boy and marry him, I would.

But at this point in my life, I should probably stop worrying about my love life so much and hit the books like the sad little nerd that I am.

2011-08-23T21:14:00.000+08:00

I lied.

Crying Star

2011-08-21T21:33:00.003+08:00

Every relationship has an expiration date.

At some point in your life, the people around you will leave you, lose you, disown you, forget you or die.

Or maybe that's what makes them so beautiful in the first place, knowing they can never be eternally yours.

The photographs that were once so insignificant now jump out like omens that hang over your front porch, waiting.

2011-08-19T18:01:00.002+08:00

It was hard to see then
But he was there all the while
Subtly, discreetly
Nevertheless there the whole time

The New Revolution

2011-08-19T17:18:00.003+08:00

"C'mon, let's try and be all Indian gangsta."

"Sorry, who are we kidding? I can't do this"

Apek

2011-08-14T07:39:00.007+08:00

14th August
Khairul "Tiffany" Izzat, 19

You see, I have a lot to say about this kid but I just don't know where to start. I have actually been looking forward to doing this birthday post for him for a long time now but now that I'm actually sitting here and ready to type, I'm drawing a blank as I realise that if I intend to describe all the things that make him an awesome friend as well as all the hilarious moments we've shared, this is going to be one very long post.

So anyway, when we first stepped into the same class at the beginning of the year, I didn't know this guy well. In fact, I don't think we've even spoken two words to each other in our first semester. I had no idea then how well we were going to get along because both of us shared the same sense of humour and catty bimboness. And since then, we've been practically inseparable.

Faeez, photobomb much?

One of the best times: Working on Judas together

What we do best, camwhore

People observing us from the outside must be amazed at how the two of us can actually stand each other because we're constantly bombarding one another with racist insults (mamak!) and offensive jokes. But the thing that makes our friendship beautiful is that we know we can afford to fool around with each other like this yet still know when to draw the line. From all the photoshoots and dumbass posing we do, along with wracking havoc in class each day and irritating lecturers and classmates alike, I feel grateful that I have him with me to keep my spirits up and keep me going amidst a bunch of otherwise lifeless classmates. I forgot to mention that he's also full of random ~~useless~~ facts that he seems able to pull out of nowhere and cite to us (most of the time it's "I terbaca somewhere tapi tak ingat mana") on any occasion. I find this amusing in him somehow.

But despite all fun and games, he really is a helpful friend when you need him. Forvever willing to land a hand even if it may not be so convenient for himself, you will be touched by his generosity. Yup, he is one of the most loyal friends I have and once again, I feel blessed to have him in my life. *Disney moment* (wipes tears)

I don't think I will be able to make it through a day without hearing all his sarcastic remarks and witty comebacks that crack me up each time. So to Tiffany, have a wonderful day and may the year ahead be filled with all things good for you because a person like you deserves the best that life has to offer. You'll make a great ~~crazy bitchy~~ pharmacist someday in future and I'm thrilled we'll be going to New Zealand together where we can continue terrorising the Maoris and the Kiwis there with our usual bimboness.

Happy birthday and you'll forever be my retarded tranny :)

Pathma-ambiga-gurusamy

2011-08-13T20:11:00.001+08:00

Please, just this once, don't screw things up.

The Lioness Within

2011-08-09T07:58:00.004+08:00

I opened the e-mail without any feeling. I read it like I would any other e-mail, although it wasn't just any other e-mail. The moment I saw the subject title sitting there waiting for me in my inbox, I knew what it was but the excitement just wasn't building up. In fact, I felt a tinge of dread in my heart as the realisation of what was awaiting me seeped slowly in. Next to me, a couple of my class boys were watching the screen anxiously as I downloaded the PDF letter that came attached. They seemed to be more excited than I was, I noted.

The document finished loading. Someone thumped me on the back in congratulatory fashion. I heard yells of congratulations whizz around and above me and random cries of me having to treat everyone in the class to dinner followed by gales of laughter. But everything seemed a blurry distance away as I just sat there trying my best to smile back at everyone.

The reality was hitting harder than I thought it would. I always knew this day would come eventually but seeing the official letterhead and seal of the university of my dreams on my laptop screen staring back at me just drove it home with a harsh blow. My time here is limited. Happy and grateful, I am, but the feeling of doubt and worry collectively weigh them both out.

From here, the journey just gets harder. What is it going to be like leaving everything you have ever known and love behind to start life anew in a foreign land far from the comforts of home all by yourself?

One hurdle at a time.

Undeduced

2011-08-06T21:23:00.002+08:00

Deep down, everyone is an opportunist. I'm not saying it's a bad thing, in fact, you need to be to get the best out of life. But when people start getting too greedy and keep wanting more, that's when it can be often detrimental to oneself.

I know some people who rush into things on the spur of the moment, thinking that they might as well grab the golden chance while they can, before it slips through their fingers and out of reach forever. But then, not long after, something better is bound to come along and these kind of people go either one of two ways. They will immediately drop what they have and rush onto the next one without any regret or guilt or remorse, or they sit and pine because they can't back out of certain commitments and they feel like kicking themselves for not waiting a little longer.

Then I know another group of people, who wait and wait and wait just too bloody long. They have dozens of good prospects lining up at their doorstep yet they keep turning them all away in hopes that a better one will come along. But the thing about these people is, how sure are they that the best for them hasn't already come knocking and they had just dismissed it because of their obsession to get the very best? How do they know when best is best and nothing else can top that anymore? There's always going to be something better if you're never content with what you have, right?

As for me, I'm somewhere midway these two but with a slight tilt towards the latter. I don't blindly barge into something, I make sure I rationalize it out with myself first. But then, I realise that I too have the tendency of having doubts and regrets when I think I have found something of a better deal but because I can't bail on previous attachments, I get depressed imagining what could've been if things had turned out differently instead.

But then I snap out of it and realise that being this way, I'm never going to be happy. I might as well embrace what I have and feel blessed.

But I can't shake the feeling.

But this is best.

Right?

A Year Without Rain

2011-08-06T12:33:00.002+08:00

You look like Aishwarya Rai.
Aishwarya Rai will be rolling in her grave if she heard that.
Nah, she'd be flattered.
Errr...
Wait, she isn't even dead yet.
Oh, yeah. Then she can't be rolling in her grave.
Then, what? She'll be rolling in...?
The deep?
HAHAHAHAHA.
(burst out into song)

Bunch of reatrds.

I'd Like to See What this Says

2011-08-05T16:01:00.005+08:00

The Queen of the Damned with her bitches: The performance of a lifetime. Hardest yet best choreography ever. AUSMAT Gaga.

And to prove it, the juniors who spent the whole two weeks preparing with us made this for us as a sign of appreciation for giving them the time of their lives.

Best assignment so far: Planking. (AV rocks!)

Now this is what I call introducing your culture to outsiders: Bringing your Chinese friends to temple.

Thengyi!

Happy birthday! Why we somehow look like sisters in this shot, I don't know.

The Queen of Sheba

Drama Club: The cast of freaks.

It's Me Again

2011-07-31T20:38:00.002+08:00

Maybe some things are better left undone.
Unwritten.
Unspoken.
Unheard.
Unchartered.
Unattended.
Unaware.
Unprovoked.
Unhappy.
Unbroken.
Undisturbed.
Untouched.
Untroubled.
Unthought.
Untrusted.
Unforgiven.