Yellow Yellow Dirty Fellow

Take a LOOK at the Simpsons version of ME. ------------>

I think, on the overall, I look better in yellow. After all, I am Chinese, and the Chinese are kind of yellow... OMG. Could Homer Simpson actually be Ho-Mah Sim San?

Ooh. Disturbing thought of the day.

But today's post is going to be short; I am just updating for the fun of it. I have a deadline looming and I simply have NO idea if I can meet it. Tis sad. Indeed.

BLISS

The word 'bliss' is underused. Perhaps due to the fact that not many things in life can be described as blissful.



But I have, in my infinite though slightly disturbing wisdom; procured a list of things that (though temporary) may be counted as blissful.



TOP TEN THINGS THAT MAY PRODUCE A FEELING OF BLISS.



10. A packet of chocolate milk. Why not? Chocolate has been proven to make you feel good; and milk is good for your bones. Not to mention; the action of sucking liquid through a straw is....how do you put this? Satisfying? Yes, satisfying.



9. Two pieces of Toast 'Em s and a cup of hot thick Milo. Toast the Toast 'Ems with butter, eat them HOT and sip the sweet, chocolatey Milo and enjooooy.



8. A good book. Music plugged into your ears. A soft, comfortable couch. Recipe for bliss.



7. Chatting with friends via MSN. Escpecially when your friends are a crazy bunch of nuts.



6. Listening to a certain song over and over and over and over and over and over and over andoverandoverandoverandoverandover....till you feel the world going grey and are incapable of coherent speech.

5. Errr.... I am running out of stuff.

4. Chili paste.

3. Wasabi?

2. Fried rice?

1. Coke? Pot? Heroin?


Agh. Life is a miserable thing! I cannot even find TEN bloody things that make me happy. Or blissful. Agh. Please, if any of you who read my blog have an ounce of pity, give me a few ideas of what to do that'll give me the feeling fo bliss, of joy, of happiness. I am drowning, DROWNING.

AGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

P/S: My toe bloody hurts. I am limping. AGGGHHHH. Deadlines LOOMING. SOMEBODY GET HS TO SHOOT ME.

Let it be known, henceforth, in today's blog, three things.

The first, the Autopay machine in KLCC near Dunkin' Donuts DOES NOT TAKE COINS. Or at least, it does, but it doesn;t reduce the amount. That means, it MAKAN the coins. It just swallowed from me ONE bloody ringgit. For nothing. So, let it be known. THE AUTOPAY AT DUNKIN' DONUTS DOES NOT TAKE COINS.

Second, BEWARE THE EVIL THAT IS THE ESCALATOR. Be wary of where you put your feet when you get on the escalator. Do not trip and fall and gash you toe till your sandals are filled with blood and completely ruined.

Third, don't sleep right after you eat. Will make you feel sick.

The Great Twitch

THE GREAT TWITCH


A twitch; just a twitch. Nothing spectacular, at first. Began as a small movement; rapid, sudden and coming in short spasms. Ended with a full-blown muscle contraction of a certain part of the anatomy, in which one must always be wary of twitches. For nothing good may come out of a twitch, especially not in the toes.
She consulted the love of her life; a lovable yet not-so-smart, good-tempered, 25-pound brown and white mongrel. The ever genial mutt gave her a wise look that said two things: one, is my dinner ready and two, why are you bothering me with your human ailments?
Never one to be deterred, she turned to her father, who, like always, was contentedly smoking what she called ‘Coffin Nails’ or ‘Grim Reaper Specials’.
“It is just a slight twitch; it is nothing to worry about, I am sure,” he said with a puff of evil-looking black smoke. Unsatisfied, she turned to her mother, whom, after instructing her on several thousand house chores, said two words and one Malaysian-style suffix.
“Don’t worry la,” said she, as she harrumphed in recognition of the utter silliness she deemed be the root of the problem.
Twitches. More twitches. The Twitch of All Twitches. The Great Twitch.
She sighed; a small expulsion of breath which blew a few strands of hair into the air, like some limp black noodles. She wrinkled her nose; a little habit she had when she worried for something.
However, she never was one to dwell on such mundane matters as twitches. Not when she had a mountain to climb (a five-thousand word essay on Ethics), a river to cross (a weeping best friend whose boyfriend cheated on her) and a volcano to survive (a very miffed mom due to unfinished chores). Ah, but the night was no longer a spring chicken and so, sleep must be of essence now.
She turned her thoughts toward the warm, soft and comfortable slice of Heaven that she had long had a lustful, desirous love affair with; her bed. Her bed; with its soft sheets and curvaceous corners. Her bed; with its gentle touch and gentle lull.
She snuggled into bed with another deep sigh. Dream, my funny little brain. Dream; and then maybe I won’t have to think about this twitch.

******

The morning dawned like realization that she may have broken the world record for Slothery. She clambered out of bed, yawning, and fell flat on her face.
Her toe, once so obedient, once so still, was now dancing the Macarena, and maybe even going through the entire High School Musical routine. (She hated the show, but it appeared that her toes did not.)
Shocked beyond her brains (the last time she was shocked this way was when a good friend wore a black and white checkered shirt that could only be described as burn-worthy), she tried to hold down the now-gone-bonkers toe. It halted its movements, only to pick up speed again, this time to Whacko Jacko’s Thriller.
Aghast, she yelled for her mother, who rushed into her room in a panic.
“What? What?” asked her mother.
“That! That!” she answered.
“Where? Where?” asked her mother.
“There! There!” she answered, now pointing frantically towards her toes.
The silence that followed was deafening. “I don’t see anything wrong. Except that you should be cutting your toenails.”
“Huh?” Her jaw dropped. Her toe was still twitching crazily, and maybe even trying a little ‘krumping’ for added effect.
“My toes! It’s twitching! Dancing! Breakdancing!” she protested. “It’s gone absolutely crazy!”
Her mother gave her a look that may have meant anything from: ‘I think you are having hallucinations’ to ‘Shall I get the tranquilizers?’
Her mouth opened and closed like her long dead goldfish (who lived for one month and then promptly went belly up from sheer boredom) as she tried to decipher the fact that her mother could not see her toes, now enthusiastically doing the Samba.
Her mother shook her head. “Stay home today,” she said. “You must be very tired.”
She could not understand it. She simply couldn’t. What in the name of Orlando Bloom is going on here?
She stared at her toes, which now seemed to have tired themselves out and was now waggling in a limp and feeble way. She frowned. There must be another explanation… something I have not thought of.
A disease? No, she just had a medical check-up last week and the doctor had declared that she will probably live to see the Apocalypse.
A hallucination? Highly improbable, her mother’s shrink had declared her saner than her own mother.
Then a thought occurred to her.
Wait. Could it be? Can it be? Her mind began to race. Its not possible…is it? Could he really have returned? That would explain why…but he left! He left when my mother noticed me talking and –I must find out.
“You had better stop it,” she said out loud, seemingly to no one at all. “I can’t have you messing about. Not when you just upped-and-left years ago. ”
There was a silence as her toes finally stopped moving.
“Thank you. Now, let’s see what excuse you can give me this time.”
And then as if by magic (for it was magic), a tiny little creature, no bigger than one’s thumb, peeped out from between her toes. He had a small ugly face and two pointy little ears which he kept squashed inside a green felt hat. Somewhat human in shape, the creature had two webbed feet which he encased in a pair of wooly socks.
“Welcome back,” she said with a smile. “It took you long enough.”
The creature grinned up at her. His head bobbed up and down, and he emitted a series of squeaks.
“You’re hungry? Wait, let me just get some food. Oh no, don’t worry, I won’t let anyone find you again.”
With a fiendish grin, she got up from the floor, went to the door and called out to her mom. The creature’s face lighted up, and his two rows of sharp, white teeth gleamed. Something that looked like dried blood was covering most of the teeth he possessed.
“Mom? Can you bring the cat up here please? I need to do some feeding!”

Lo! Behold! Bishi Bashi! Webpage and Loud Shirts!

People often underestimate arcade games; I was one such person. I was never one to go for arcades, or even cybers. Never been in a bowling alley before in my life. Never played snooker. Never played foosball. Never been kissed. Never been, ah well, you get my point. I 'never' a lot of things.

And I never expected how....therapheutic can arcade games be. Never. There is something to be said for the violent, unneccessary and highly vicious movements concerning whacking on three different colored buttons in various orders that I indulged in today. My hands came away sore, bruised and slightly arthritic, but nonetheless, it was FUN.

Not my first time, though; no, the first was with MZ, HS, and J. Same thing today; 'cept minus HS and add K and Bozu.

Perhaps it is the feeling of pure joy, utter bliss and incredible freedom that comes with the knowledge that the assignments are FINISHED. ALL OF IT. DONE. FINITO. ENDED.

*dances around room, waving smelly and dirty pillow in a complicated Dance of Joy, Pauline-style.*

Yes, ah, today is good day.

Bumped into J in bus; and lo! behold! He hadnt eaten breakie, so we go mamak, and who should come strolling by minutes later but K, MZ and Bozu. Greeted MZ with my usual friendly-but-wary 'hello' and Bozu with a smile, and jaw dropped at K.

Dont get me wrong. Its not that he is jaw-droppingly handsome (I may win a few beauty pageants before that ever is a true statement), or that he had a pleasant expression (trust me, if he had a pleasant expression to speak of; I will be running for President.), NO, he had on....wait for it....

A BLACK AND WHITE CHECKERED SHIRT.

Whats so bad, you ask? Checks only mah. WHAT are you, kidding me???? Whats wrong, you ask??

If should anyone wear checks like that, the police may arrest them.

If K wears checks like that, somewhere, somehow, a monkey has conducted, orchestrated and composed a musical masterpiece only dead musicians from outer space may compose. And then the police will arrest him.

My jaw remained dropped till he sat in front of me.

Let me say this: I have always wanted to make a joke of this sort.

I said, with as much incredulity I could muster, "Agh, I can't hear myself think."

Puzzled looks.

"His shirt is too loud!" Laughter.

And I pretty much used that throughout the day.

Let it also be known that sometimes, no matter what K appears to be or portrays himself as, he can suprise you from time to time, in many strange ways. V, you have my condolences as well as my congratulations.

And let it also be clear that NO ONE's web design is simple; ours is the SIMPLEST. Any simpler, we'd be arrested.

For full details of hilarious and ridiculous presentation on the 24th of August during Multimedia Tools class, please refer to 1-800-KelvGoneCrazy or log on to http://www.yoursimpleisnothingcomparedtoours.com.

Yes, today is good day. And I have resolved; in spirit of what J did many times, to start stories with random, unlikely words. Mine for today is 'TWITCH'. Watch this space for the story. If it isnt utter nonsense, I shall upload.

Yes, today is good day. One of, hopefully, many, many more to come.

.....and now, 'NEW!!!!' to my blog!

Corny Remark of the Day

Today's corny remark is courtesy of Bozu, who said this while at the mamak, sometime aorund 8.25 in the morn.

" It's is not the looks, okay, its the INSIDE that counts."

Yes, Bozu, everyone knows that, everyone TRIES to uphold and BELIEVE in that, but it takes TRUE Corn and TRUE Cheese to say that out loud, and before 9 in the morning. You win.......... a pair of autographed bunny rabbit slippers. Yay.

I wish I could say, like K did a few nights ago, that my life changed, like his was, for the better.

I wish I could blame someone else. But I can only blame myself. I now feel a sense of loss so profound, perhaps something good will come out of it.

And since I know it is rather dangerous for me to really type out what is going on in my head right now, I shall cease to do so. Perhaps in a few months I will recover and will be able to look back on this and laugh.

Moving on to a more positive note.

I have finished typing out my article on the Animax Fashion thingamajig, and so feel better. I have also indulged in a good load of ice-cream and chocolate, and so now feel better. (Just joking, I have no ice-cream at home; too sweet for me diabetic dad. It just seems like the right thing to say.)

I have also lost a niggling headache and a perpetual heartache, only to be replaced with swollen eyes and a lack of appetite. However, still do feel better, no appetite is good, and swollen eyes may help me with my punk-look, should I ever decide to go for that look, anyhow.

Assignments are almost done; but now face problem of not being able to install Photoshop, so must do everything in school.

May soon receive payment, so may be able to indulge in long-missed sushi. And maybe even treat J and K as well. They still be my friends, good friends, no matter what. No matter what. And I still will be who I am, albeit more battered than before. Albeit now a little more lonely, much more melancholy, and wiser for it.

I wish now, more than ever, that I will not cry. Though, as things go, it may be too late for that.

Heys, look on the bright side. I may now be able to write a truly heartwrenching story, like I've always wanted to do.

Today is a good day, by all means.



After last night's ranting (which K pointed out to me that it was major ranting, and sadly enough, he knows what caused the ranting, and sadly enough, he plans to use it as blackmail, oh joy, must find way to kill him and dump his body in an abandoned shack somewhere) I feel as if my inner juices have been spilled out.



But, back to today; met up with J and K at Kino (wish they had told me they had arrived, I was waiting like an anxious GF in front of Topshop, which totally ruined my reputation) and lo and behold! They have tickets and it is for Ratatouille, which me and J have been looking forward to seeing for some time. (Trying to act suprised and delighted, I think it makes for better reading, though, hell, we were planning it since last week)



The movie began with a short as usual, Pixar always does that. It was an amusing and highly entertaining little ditty on aliens sitting for abduction tests. It was an enjoyable little skit, for sure.

When the show started, we were taken by surprise by the introduction to the hero of the show, Remy the Rat. Grey, slim, and well-refined. With heightened taste buds. And oh yes, nearly killed.

Anyone watching, I am sure, would like Remy then and there. And the fun was just beginning.

The movie is about a rat, of all creatures. A lovable rat. A gourmet rat. A rat who wants to be more than just a rat. The rat of all rats. (I may never be able to kill a rat ever again. May even end up feeding one.)

While I would love to recap the whole movie, I shall not. I shall tuck it away safely for my own viewing in my head. All I shall say is that if you do not ctach this movie you WILL regret it, because it is funny, sweet, simple, inspiring, with excellent graphics and excellent storyline and witty dialogues.

Now, it has just struck me that I have niggling headache. May be from the lack of sleep....or something else.

It is dumb, but I feel like taking the plunge. I feel like just going for it, come what may. I feel like spilling my guts out, feelings be damned.

But I dare not. I am scared; scared of losing something good, scared of losing someone too important to me, scared of losing what little dignity I have left. I am frightened of going through the pain, the agony, the rejection. The feeling of utter despair that accompanies every decision I have made in this aspect. I am scared stupid of losing everything; because this time, I have something to lose. The last time I plunged, I had nothing to lose. But now I do.

But, to end on a brighter note, I enjoyed my outing today greatly. Thanks to great friends, a great movie and some nice chicken, albeit undercooked.

Perhaps only time will tell if I ever dive into the ocean again...and oh joy, I can't swim.

One, Two, Three, and Four

One last minute rush, two events covered, three bad decisions and four ways to get rid of this heartache I am having.

One Last Minute Rush
Okays, technically I have had many last-minute rushes. The one I had last night was the worst, thats all. It was for Advertising Copywriting and I stayed up till 3 am just to make sure everything was done...only to sleep in too late the next morning to find that the compilation had already been done by a group member who had already done too much. However, Jee gallantly kept me company, for which I am grateful (he was smacking a total of 20 mosquitoes) and for which I spent a very nice night laughing and kepoh-ing. Thank you, Jee!! (a proper thank you needs a proper name.)

Two Events Covered.
I have, with great aplomb, covered two events which I enjoyed greatly, one, a fashion event for Animax's Fashion Ability contest, the other, Comic Carnival Malaysia. I had an interview with Brotherfree member and Kennyswork director, Kenny Wong, he was a really nice guy. I gained loads of experience, met loads of people and built me a nice, constantly expanding contacts list.


Three Bad Decisions
My first bad decision came when I decided to trust someone, who betrayed my trust and ended up causing problems for all of us. My second bad decision was made when I decided to give my heart out. I decided to let my soft little heart feel, after years of shutting myself out. I was hurt so many times that my heart decided to shut down, give up, throw down its tools and go on strike. But now, its up and running again. And I will get hurt again, I just know it. Its a question of when and where, thats all. And now that a certain someone is also attached, I find myself getting jealous, wishing I could also pluck up the courage, except o'course, I am a girl, and this certain someone is a guy, so, well, guys get all the perks! It just ain't right for a girl to make the first move, eh? My third bad decision was to eat too much for dinner last night, so now I feel like a sack of lard. Hahahaha.


Four Ways To Get Rid of The Heartache I am Having
I cannot say for sure, how I will ever be rid of this feeling in my poor bruised heart. Maybe I never will. But I do have a few ways that I think are plausible...
1. Perform self-heart transplant. When U no is having a Heart, U no is having Feelings.
2. Stab myself in the guts. When U no is having Guts, U no need To have Guts.
3. Rip out my spleen. When U no is having spleen....err... well, U no is having spleen.
4. Poke myself in the eye. When I is poke my eye, I is in Pain, and physical Pain is better.


So there you go. Let me see if I can find a nice, shiny, sharp knife...... to cut onions o'course! What do you think I was planning to do??

Make the first move.

This sentence sounds like a lorry. A three tonne, 16 wheeler, cement-mixer-lorry. With cement. And a drunk driver. And a bad wheel. And worn out brake paddles. With three vicious dogs in the back seat. Who haven't eaten for three weeks. Come to think of it, the driver hasn't eaten in three weeks, either.

This sentence even goes against the very order of nature. Like eating lollipops with your foot. Like drinking blended tomato sandwhiches. Like deep-frying a beautiful, fresh and expensive fish. Like walking backwards on the main road amidst speeding traffic. You just DON'T DO IT.

Tell him how you feel.

This one sounds like a raging bull. A mad, mean-ass, vicious bull with sharpened horns. Hasn't eaten in a month. A bad-ass bull with attitude.

This sentence sounds like a death penalty. It is right up there with sentences like; ' We find the defendant guilty of all charges and we sentence his sorry ass to life in Tanjung Rambutan.' Or ' We, the jury, wish to say we think he is as guilty as green is green, blue is blue and so we sentence him to death.' Or 'OMG MZ is pissed.'

Never try, never know.

This is the creme de la creme of all bad sentences. There are some things you know for sure. For example: If you walk into a lorry, you will have your face smashed flat. If you eat the cafe' Butter Chicken Rice, you'll be cursed, addicted, unable to help yourself. If you hear a piyo-piyo sound, you will upskirt an old lady. If you talk to Bra you will be perverted. Come to think of it, Bra is perverted.

This one is one of those things you know. Never try, already know. No need to try.

Of course, all this has nothing to do with me per se. This has nothing to do with me at all, personally. I just happen to muse upon such things. I am a great muser, I am. I think a lot. Sure. Uh huh.

Tragedy

I think I vaguely remember those high-pitched Gibb brothers once squeal, "Tragedy, something something Tragedy." It was a song, of that I am sure, just not sure WHICH one.

For right now, I am in a quandary. A tragedy. A disaster. I want to get my ass moving and working on the Comm. Research proposal, but my brain is currently glued together by some ooey, gooey bubblegum (and I HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE bubble gum. And chewing gum. Will NEVER EVER eat it) and plastered to my kitchen wall; where it stays there to collect oil, dirt and the often-wafting scent of garlic. It refuses to move; I assure you I tried to move it in a variety of ways, for eg.

1. Slamming my skull into the LRT doors and snarling at bewildered passengers
2. Stand in the middle of the road and try to get hit by cars
3. Peforming self-lobotomy
4. Play Sudoku at 'Expert' level
5. Play Sudoku at 'Total Gormless Idiot' level
6. Losing at both levels of aforementioned Sudoku
7. Whacking my mom's beige, 200 ringgit calf-leather handbag against my medula oblongata.
8. Beeping past Touch 'n' Go with my skull and sheer telepathic power
9. Solve the greatest mystery of life (Why are dinosaurs extinct when I have two in my home?)
10. Talk to my dog

But nothing worked. NOTHING. I am so LAZY. LAZY LAZY LAZY LAZY LAZY. Sheer sloth, I tell you.

I cannot help it; for my brain now is stuck on sveral personal issues I have yet to solve. I HATE HAVING PERSONAL ISSUES.

And now, to top it of.....

I have lost my notes.

Goodbye now. Alas! Cruel world, I knew thee well.

Meeting with an Old Friend

Today, after being dragged around the whole of PJ, forced to sit through a counselling session in a small, cramped and airless cubicle, made to stand around the vicinity of a college that I find far too snooty for my liking, and coerced into following a wild goose ride despite my many protests that my presence would make no difference - I met up with an old friend.

This old friend, whom I had not seen in two years, had called me outta the blue one day and suggested that we meet up and have a cup of tea. Or eat some lunch. You know, just to basically meet up for old times sake. Its sad for me to say that I had actually forgotten to give him my new phone number; but then again, I forgot to give it to loads of people.

It turned out to be the most brain-tiring meeting of my life. By the end of it, I was so exhausted, I fell into bed and snoozed for a good half hour before being jolted awake by an irate brother, who claimed that he had been yelling for me to come down for dinner at least two thousand times.

This old friend; we met at Times Square, and we went to eat at this place called 'Food and Tea', which, by the way, I would not reccommend to anyone.

He emerged half an hour late (didn't mind, was having a good time browsing through the Sandman comics at Borders) and then we headed off to get food. He met up with two of his friends there, they left after about 5 minutes (they had a meeting and he had to pass something to one of them) and then the game of 2000 questions began.

First, we talked about inflation. Then we moved on to financial freedom. Then we discussed my plans for the future. Then he asked me about the life I want to lead. Then he asked me about my love life (which I snortingly told him was non-existent) and then we talked about principles. Then we moved on to reading between the lines, charity work, assets and liabilities, questions of morality and honour.... the list goes on.

He asked me probing, tough, psychological questions; not surprising, he is studying Psychology in HELP. I said, a total of three times, "WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY FRIEND?"

The guy I remembered was kind of nonchalant, a little self-centred, very easy-going, fond of making jokes and a little bit fake, on occasion. The guy I met today was overly focused, over-analytical, serious minded and sounded like a shrink through and through.

Did I like this new friend? I have no idea. Did I enjoy the conversation? Strangely enough, yes. He listened very well, which is something he never used to do waaaay back when I knew him. I actually enjoyed having a good, proper, serious conversation about serious stuff. I mean, I enjoy talking about nothing and listening to people talk, but for a long time I hadn't had someone actually sound interested in hearing me talk about what my plans, hopes and dreams are. I even had some words of encouragement from him regarding the guy I am currently liking. He told me to go for it, I told him (with another sceptical snort) that I'd rather stick my head in mud. He actually said, "You really like this guy, don't you," in an almost.... fatherly way? Sick, I know. Then he told me to go for it. Make the first move. But I told him, nah, no way, I'd rather shoot myself in the foot. (not exactly, but I meant it like that)

He asked me to go paintball this coming Sunday, but meh, I got stuff up and its 8 am in the morning la. Still we have made plans o meet up for lunch again; I think I would like that. I think it is good to know that someone is going to take time to listen to me. Lately it seems I've been clamming up on stuff about me.

Though, unless you count me going on and on about my stupid feelings. It makes me feel kinda stupid, really.

But, we parted ways at about 5 (we met up at 3) and he walked me to the Monorail, and we made some plans to meet up again.

Still, I think I would like that. Yes, I would.

But 'Food and Tea'? NEVER AGAIN.

Friends

Once upon a time, I survived eleven years of primary and secondary having so few friends, I might as well have been a speck of dust on a book. But since I began my years in college, and lost some pounds (believe it or not, I was 10 kg heavier 4 years back) and started going to university and gained some confidence, I made some very good friends and some very very good friends.

I admit, I've lost quite a few friends along the way. But I have found that with old ones moving on, new ones come into my life and I am very grateful that God has seen fit to perhaps finally help me put an end to my constant self-talking. I used to talk to myself a lot, just cause no one else would. So, here goes. Me feelign slightly sappy today, so I will now type a tribute to the friends I've made in uni.

I remember missing the first day of school; I had a driving test to go to. I was actually quite upset; I mean, first day is when you make the friends that will determine whether your next three years will be hell or heaven. But thankfully, my v.good friend from KTAR days, MZ, who is very hot and very sociable, paved my way for me. I mean, when one's friend is pretty, popular and sociable, it helps to have her make friends first, you join in later. Muahahaha.

But yes, from first day, MZ had made friends with K, Bozu, and W. She told me when I called her, that W was loud, B was a little boy, and K was ok. Later, she changed it to W is obnoxious, Bozu is even a smaller boy than she thought and K is the hugest arse in the world. Hahaha.

But it was fun; the first semester was a fun-filled time with long breaks and all of us (me, MZ, K, W, Bozu and IS) having lunches all together. We were a group. A team. We used to walk to Sect 14 together.

Then 'The Pool Party' happened. Long story short, MZ and K were irreparably separated and hated each other with a passion. To tell the truth; K was a bit of an arse regarding that matter. And MZ was pissy for a long while. I was standing on MZ's side at that time, of course.

But then it kind of started to drift away; the little team we had. MZ and K were NOT on speaking terms so it became hard to keep the group together. The addition of Bra and HS was quick; somehow or other we became another group. Although the rest of the semester was a blur, I remember that I myself, too, started drifting away from MZ. W became out-casted quickly, she was becoming obnoxious and rude as well as loud. (Harsh, but true) IS was also kind of hanging out with us but not always.

Then second semester came along and all of a sudden I began to hang out a lot with K. It kind of began with a few LRT trips (walking to LRT station; he go bus stop, I go LRT) and suddenly I sort of noticed he wasnt such an arse after all; and that he could take jokes against himself very well. We began insulting each other in earnest and somehow managed to settle into some kind of friendship.

Fast forward to year two and ta-da, new classmates. YN, whom I knew was older but thats about it, M, whom I have discovered is a cool, funny and depressed person, and ST, whom I really dont know at all but hope to. And J, ahaha. Just in case he's reading this, I shall refrain from giving anything away. Muahaha. (And I know he occasionally wanders his way into me blog.)

My friendship with him, I think, is the BEST thing that happened to me this year. And that's the honest truth.

Ahem. Moving on. (Wow, I am inspired by J's post about friends.)

So now I have some really great friends, all of whom I genuinely think are great (albeit a little weird) and whom I genuinely like.

MZ, with whom I've been pals with 4 years now, and I am still very much friends with, even if she doesn't realise it.

K, whom I only really begun to know last semester but have settled into a strange, unusual yet comfortable friendship. If you're reading this, ugly, then scootch off cause you're ruining my blog's feng shui.

Bra, who reminds me strongly of my brother when my brother was fun to be with and who gives me a heart attack everytime I hitch a ride from him.

Bozu, where I am torn between ruffling his head, pinching his cheeks or just strangling him.

HS, who plain out scares me but is nonetheless extremely amusing and dead funny.

M, who I chat with anytime I can and am beginning to get to know.

And J, yes, J, who gives me great songs, who likes the same music, movies and books that I do, who has a great sense of humour, who I think is an awesome person, and -aha, but I am giving away too much! Muahaha. Better quit while I am ahead. There are some things that are not meant for blogs. Muahaha.

Ah, yes, also not forgetting friends from other courses!!!

V, my chatting partner. She is just as obsessed with hotties as I am, and we often drool over the male species (of the genetically-blessed kind). I think she is a great friend, but since she also wanders into my blog from time to time, I shall not say anything else or risk sounding like a kiss ass! Muahaha.

C and E, whom I got to know via K, and who I really think are all-round nice people.

Ah, now that it's all done, I would like to reflect back on the fact that I have friends.

It's a nice feeling. Yes, it is.



P/S: If at any one point you think I am sounding just a little gushy, well, I am. So sue me. I like my friends. I am strange that way.

Two down, and three more to go.

It's now down to 3, ladies and gentlemen. First there were 5, now it has been whittled down to 3. Three what, you ask? Three potential slaughter victims? Three potential boyfriends? Three potential liver donors? Three blind mice?

Nah, its down to THREE ASSIGNMENTS. Three, people. Luckily, we have just passed up our Journalism assignments, and that subject is DONE. My group was the first to finish off Communication Theories, and so we are blissfully clear of THAT. So what remains now is the final part of our proposals for Research Methods, our Advertising Copywriting and the webpages for Multimedia Tools.

Phew. At least I MAY get SOME sleep now. Am actually blogging when Mom is busying herself with sambal petai. I am waiting for the gravy to thicken and bubble and for the aroma of coconut milk and home-made chilli paste to waft into my room, which, to my eternal fortune, is located directly above my kitchen. Muahahaha.

Ahhhhh....

Then it is off I go to fry prawn fritters (appearantly I make the best but I have sneaky suspicion me mom's just buttering me up so I'll do it more often) and then voila! Dinner.

Hmmm.

The Datin said she liked me feature piece, but me thinks she just relates to it, she being a mum and all. Not that it was any writing skills on me part. I pride myself on writing decently enuff, but many times I find myself going too far and getting carried away and ending up with a pile of stinking bullcrap which I edit afterward to reduce amount of crap.

Sigh.

Hitched a ride to LRT with 'skilled' driver, K, and actually, ungrateful as it sounds, I feel slightly miffed. Can't say why, but I just feel annoyed that he chose to give me and J a ride TODAY, of ALL DAYS. That's horrible innit? But ah, well, for reasons of me own....and I assure you they are stupid reasons.

Agh.

The prawn fritters are calling; so I have to answer her call (strangely enough, she sounds just like my mom....) and so I take my leave.

Remember, the world is your apple pie so go take a bite and give me the rest.

Ok, so me went and got me leg hurt. Oh, nothing serious, nothing a little Flanil can't solve, along with good old mom-massage. And several hours of tender loving chicken-steps.

Nonetheless, it's quite a pain in the rear, seeing that this is an old injury; me had gone and gotten me right ankle twisted in NS and its been a bugger ever since. Rain+cold=hurt. Long hours+strain=hurt.

Ah, me like old woman here la.

But enough about that.

I skipped a rather important class today, but it may have been so worth it; I got all me work done and got some sleep to boot. Still rather disorientated now, but I shall gather my wits again soon.

Have not been quite in the right mind lately; but I think that may change, for I am now, STILL RESIGNED.

On a more positive note; got some GREAT new songs, yay to J! Was bored of me old song list. Now have awesome song called Konstantine. I like that one immensely.

Okay, so me go continue my sleep me thinks. Or maybe go mooch around a bit. Sigh.

Am Swamped...what the Hell am I doing blogging?????

ACK. I am blogging. When I should be getting me ass moving. Have just discovered that I may have to rewrite one article and now am scratching head to find way to do it and not go raving, starking MAD.

What the HELL am I still doing here???!!! Oh yes, to moan and generally be a pain in the arse.

First off; I am now resigned. Initially I was pining, then I was longing, then I was obsessing, then I got confused and conflicted, then I was in serious 'like' and now I am RESIGNED. Finished. Given up. All the fight has gone outta me. I don't wanna think anymore. I am not even going to TRY. NOPE. NOT A BLOODY CHANCE.

Will I suffer? Sure. Will I regret? Maybe. Will I even try? Not in a gazillion years. And lastly, will I ever forget? Nope. No bloody way.

Because every single bleedin' day I will suffer silently and endure the agony. Its like; going home to find your lights are out. The bulbs broken. You REALLY REALLY need the lights, but you have no idea how to fix it and no idea if you want to risk fixing it. Still, as you sit in the dark, you suffer. Yet you have NO CHOICE but to suffer, because you dont know how to change the bulbs and you dont want to risk it exploding in your face. And worse part? The helplessness. Knowing you can NEVER EVER EVER get what you want but at the same time hoping, HOPING against all odds, that you could, that you even had the slightest CHANCE.

Perhaps that is a BAD example. But it pretty much describes my feelings now. But ACK, I say, ACK. I DONT CARE. I DONT WANT TO CARE. I SHALL SUFFER.

And so, now that I have made up my mind, I shall be resigned. Resigned. I will go on; perhaps one day, it'll get easier.

My spirits have returned to me.....

So I have been in a sorta funk, rite, and so I goes out, and I goes and gets me TWO books. TWO.
TWO. I mean, I totally BLEW my budget for the month, but aha, now I have Anansi Boys and Stardust in me possession, thus confirming once again, I am a bookworm/geek trapped inside a wrestler's body. Or in this case, a-cool-guy-with-boobs body. Ahem.

Had several immensely interesting conversations today; mainly, the first, involving K and his very very VERY weird dream. Let's just say it involves MZ, Bra and HS and J. MZ is stabbing J in Heaven (which, appearantly, J enjoyed. The stabbing, I mean.), Bra and HS in Hell, just hanging around. Then K gets shot in the head during his wedding to the poor girl he has set his sights on. And finally, he finds himself in a pasture......full of cows.

I, of course, offered my dream-interpretation services. I evaluated, weighed, judged and found that

a) The shot-during-wedding part signifies his deep-rooted commitment phobia.
b) MZ stabbing J is actually his hidden intent; for he is, after all, the male version of MZ, and he secretly wants to stab J outta sheer jealousy.
c) Bra and HS in Hell symbolizes his fear that he too, will be in Hell for his perversion.
d) Pasture full of cows? He actually wants to eat steak but can't because he remembers that those cows are actually me.

Hmmm. Just occurred to me that writing about the other interesting conversations may result in me getting arrested under the O.S.A (Overly Sexed Act). Ah, when Bra is around, what do you expect? Barney the bloody child molester? And his equally as freaky green sister? Meh.

Okay, back to me books. I LOVE NEIL GAIMAN. *dances around, waving Anansi Boys in the air*

Ah, but yes, actually, for the first time since I've known K, I confided in him. I told him some stuff that was messing with me head. He of course, was no help (after all, that guy has the brain capacity of a egg-cup) but it helped somewhat to say it out loud and get it off me chest. So now I feel MUCH better.

That; and I have TWO new books.

MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

The Thought

Okay, so, here's something I wrote long ago; so it's not exactly my best work. But I do think that this story really represented a part of me that was very significant at some point of my life. Though now I no longer think these thoughts, I feel that it is important I get it out in the open; because I am ready to let go now. All the past hurts, all the past rejection, all the bad stuff that made me feel like a pile of excrement. I am giving them up now. So here goes: The Thought. The poem at the end is actually the lyrics to my favourite pieces of all time; Vide Cor Meum or See my Heart, written by Dante Alighieri and composed by Peter Cassidy and Hans Zimmer, as used in Hannibal.



And the thought came to her; unbidden, as it flashed by like a passing shower on a sunny day. Vivid as red blood, her vision clouds over with images of hate, and regret for the life she lived but never wanted to have. Inside her mind’s eye she saw her death come upon her. And she wished for it; welcomed it akin to a cold refuge from the unbearable heat of the world. A casual flick of the wrist could not be as casual as these thoughts of life’s end. And the thought pounced upon her and held her in its grip.

It stayed as a vision at the back of her mind, showing itself whenever her heart seemed as if it could no longer bear the burden of sustaining life. Hot blood pouring into eager veins and swollen flesh. Hot tears streaming out of bitter eyes and fragile lips trembling. A body left to live; a soul left to die.

Voices speak and words do not form in her head. Barbed words thrown with accuracy designed to kill. Harsh words breaking splintered heart; paper-thin courage torn to shreds. Indifferent toward broken spirit; deafness feigned but whispers too loud ringing in her ears. Raised voices saying things she did not want to hear. Tension thicker than unbroken bread; and the thought came to her again like a sweet lover’s words.

The thought engulfed her entire being; numbness in her heart never ceasing. The thought rose and fell in waves and swells and held her tight. Soft arms and smooth skin brushed her tattered shell. Sharp claws fought its way from oblivion to life. Wisps of smoke taking form.

And then the thought controlled her. It moved like a sinuous snake; like a slippery creature bent on crawling its way from where it held itself in captivity. It compelled her to take action.

So, like a marionette trapped in it’s bonds; amidst the whispers of the tranquil death, she slept.

E pensando di lei
Mi sopragiunse uno soave sonno
Ego dominus tuus
Vide cor tuum
E d'esto core ardendo
Cor tuum
Lei paventosa
Umilmente pascea.
Appresso gir lo ne vedea piangendo.
La letizia si convertia
In amarissimo pianto
Io sono in pace
Cor meum
Io sono in pace
Vide cor meum

A short look at the Simpsons Movie and some very strange musings.

Now, having had discovered that leaders are elected to lead, not read -and that pigs can climb ceilings; I must say that I enjoyed The Simpsons Movie in an almost obscene way. Seriously. Because it is a celebration of utter randomness, sheer stupidity and humour by the tonne.

The plot? Forget it. Can't bloody remember (vaguely recall something about the environment being mentioned though, and Greenday made an appearance...) but don't bloody care. One can't simply dwell on such mundane things when there are fat yellow men and blue-haired women (who, incidentally is also a shade of lurid yellow) talking, moving and making love that pollute innocent animals's minds.

Enter a celebrity with unshakeable credibility and throw in 8 sled dogs, Mr. Burns' hounds, a bomb, a dome and ta-da, The Simpson's Movie.

Though a word of caution: if you are one of those un-enlightened who live a dark-existence, who, incidentally, do not GET or ENJOY the humour of the Simpsons, then give this one a miss. This is for fans only.

I must say, if you are of the enlightened ones, from the minute the movie begins till it ends, you will be laughing, snorting, chuckling, roaring out loud or collapsing from over exertion. Trust me. Of course, like I always remind everyone I know, I am EASILY AMUSED. I laugh outrageously at anything and everything that takes a stab at humour. Seriously.

Though, in the end, a movie is only as good as the company; and if you must watch Simpsons, watch it with a friend who's sense of humour is as strange as yours. Or whose laugh is infectious enough.

Agony? You have NO idea...

Perhaps I am just delaying the inevitable; but I do think the time will come when I will have to rip me guts out and spill it. All over the floor. Undignified. Ungraceful. Like sitting in the LRT with no clothes on... (though that is a dream of mine that keeps reccuring, sorry for ruined appetites). It is akin to laying your entire naked body in the middle of the train tracks. It is like putting your entire being out there for sacrifice...only that no rain will fall because you die or no famine will end for your great sacrifice... more like the only thing that happens is your heart gets ripped out and fed to the hounds of hell.

Possibilities and probabilities, misunderstandings, misread signs and looking too deeply into things that mean absolutely nothing. That is right now, the story of my life. Thoughts and feelings, swelling up like a spider/caterpillar/bloody-vicious-insect bite. Agony? You aint' seen nuthin' yet, ladies and gentlemen.

Confusion? Yeah sure, truck loads. Conflicting emotions? Enormous truck loads. Cowardice? Even larger truckloads. Anyone interested please contact me; they go for a buck a tonne.

Worse part? Knowing you can never get the one you want. NEVER. Because more often than not, the scales tip one-sided. Lucky, if you are on the side that is not being tipped. Not lucky if you are doing the tipping. Which I am. And there is no way I will ever be able to tell if there IS one-sided tipping (though I am fairly certain that there is)... it's all guesswork.

So hit me people. Literally. Knock me out. If I could have ONE BLOODY MINUTE where I do not have to THINK I would be eternally grateful.

Because thinking is bad, feeling is worse and longing is the worst of all.

Throw in a feeling of abject stupidity and despair, and hey, I know a tall building where we can all just jump off....