Time of my life.

Confusion. The nagging feeling.

Indeed it is. I've never seen myself as an assertive person with decisions. But even with love, it still puzzles me to this day why people feel the way they feel in countless of situations. With career, there also this nagging feeling to move on but it comes with the need to renounce nostalgia and conquer uncertainty. Grow balls, damn it.

I certainly hope this phase will pass.

zomg.

Culinary should stay as a hobby. Will not get sucked into dreaming of my own cooking show after consistently being glued on to TLC and AFC every morning *snickers. X)

Nonetheless, it's a family reunion of sorts. My brother came home today as well! :) Jolly week ahead. (Cept for Monday. Dentist appointment) :S

Merry Christmas everybody!

:D

It still puzzles me to this day.

I'm clearing out old messages clogging up my phone memory. (The warning has been appearing for some time now lol). It's nice being nostalgic. Some pretty fond memories I'm reminded of as I travel back to time (or at least back to 2009) by reading messages I decide to keep and decide to discard. Interesting conversations with people I've met, people that I loved and people that I have not hung out or speak to anymore with for a while now.

Then there are also messages that come from people whom I keep in contact every once in a while, more frequently during the holidays (because, like birds, students studying overseas migrate in flocks).

Messages mostly revolve around post-Gippsland, Gippsland, Melbourne and Honours/Bawang merah era. I haven't run through ALL because I've not cleared out my inbox since forever just skipped a couple as I go. I'm quite sure it'll take days to finish. Haha.

Honestly speaking, 2 years is a comparatively short time. But I dare say, for me it's been rather eventful despite having some line of communication gone dead or, just simply, changed. It still puzzles me to this day why it happens? Out of sight, out of mind? Why it's so hard for me to keep in contact with people being apart after long periods of time. Apart from billing and some energy to type the message, why does the effort seem great?

Would it be weird if I were to suddenly say hi? And if I do decide to make the effort, what if the other party does not reciprocate? Maybe it's just better to remain MIA instead of having to be rejected. But then if I try hard enough, maybe they would realize I care and reciprocate.

Now I know that's not always the case.

Christmas coming in a few hours time. It's time I reached out to the right people.

Resolutions.

I didn't make any resolutions for last year but every year is more of the same. Any form of self-improvement is an achievement.

http://ojingeo.blogspot.com/2009/12/assessment.html

So yessirree! For 2011, I shall be specific. :)

1. Do not procrestinate - This has been on my resolutions list like 4 years in a row! Insane.

2. Do not overspend after getting a proper paying job. - I told myself that my tutoring Money will go to my Send-Sze-To-Melbourne fund. But of course, like mum and dad predicted, it didn't. *guilty face*

3. For 2011, do some budgeting and financing as well. During honours, I spent most of food. In line with this is 4.

4. Watch diet. Create a Chicken Quota (5 servings a week), Beef Quota (1 serving a week), McDonald's quota (Once a month, but would be even better if none at all) and at least one day of the week to be dedicated to veggies! Do not order sweet drinks when eating out. For health! *gungho*

5. Exercise. I've been doing 150 ca for a while, increase to 200 by January, 250 by February and 300 ca by March onwards. :D YEAHHH. Invest in a bike. For health! *gungho*

6. Will be moving to a new place, and will be having a homie therefore it has to be neat. And for it to be neat, I have to be neat and not leave things lying around like how I do. My Kayu Ara room's a mess. :S

7. Get a dog. Fingers crossed, I hope my new place allows for it.

8. To not be a door mat. But also be more appreciative of people around me. And be more confident. Accept it as difference not inferiority.

9. To learn from past mistakes and not repeat them.

10. Spend more time with the family. I can sense they would rather want me to work in Singapore because I can commute to work and back home and the fat pay cheque. I'd do that maybe in the future, about 4 years from now? For now, I'll just cook for the family once in a while. And continue watching Channel 8 drama's with them. At least to understand who in the world is Xie Ming Ming.

11. Be happy.

And that's that.

My family doesn't really celebrate Christmas, but we definitely appreciate the day off! =)

Everyone's all geared up for Christmas. So must we. Merry Xmas.

Tis a season to be jolly

Yes. This is on the list.

http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/other-recipes/the-perfect-potato-gratin

:)

Epitaph.

You touched my heart you touched my soul.
You changed my life and all my goals.
And love is blind and that I knew when,
My heart was blinded by you.

-James Blunt.

Truthfully - A Love not Colonizing.

Contrary to popular belief, I actually don't have anything more than admiration to the person who wrote this.

A Love Not Colonising

The narrative of love is peculiar in its static monotony and the fact that it can nonetheless appeal to the one addressed. Though the same utterances are made time and again, and the words have been spoken since time immemorial, three simple words strung together in a sentence stir the emotions of the one to whom they are directed, and even the most rational counsel fails to temper the heart-strings, once pulled. Reason tries in vain to pull back the reins of passion, but the emotions have bolted heavenwards.

Yet the litany of love rings hollow once the magic spell is broken; the hitherto-wondrous Other returns to the realm of the mundane and the ordinary; flight is grounded as angels' wings are clipped - the one you held resumes a human countenance, riddled with the flaws and failings of the mortal.
Pain arises from the breaking of trust; the betrayal of innocence. Her touch is poisonous, venomous. The Self recoils in horror, the horror of knowing.

Can there be a love not colonising?
A love not grasping, beholding, robbing and stealing? A love that does not invade that sacred space of one's self-knowing, the secret garden we all have and are entitled to have, the garden of nostaligic longings and regret, pain passed, hopes dashed, lost smiling memories, quiet moments of solitude and lonely walks down the pathways of memory and reflection.
Chauduri's thoughts on the four windows of the soul come to mind: No matter how open we are, we all have - and must have - a private space, a secret garden, to call our own.
And no matter how closed we might be, we all can - and must - have that capacity to open up to the Other when the situation arises.

Yet this tension between opening and closing, between sharing and privacy, is a secret tension we all bear upon ourselves. It is our lot, as sentient beings who love and can love and wish to love. But it is a sacred tension; a higher, nobler lament, that we must carry knowingly and with respect.

There lies the moral dilemma of love: To love, to want, to wish to possess; and yet to restrain ourselves from that maddening, insane, irrational temptation to possess the Other entirely. Like some childlike infantile longing to grasp with clammy hands the Other and in that suffocating embrace arrest the Other for eternity, to freeze the Other in the gaze of the lover and to render immobile, arrested, policed, the object of love as an object possessed; though in this case it is the lover who is possessed.

How many times have I suffered this tiresomely repetitive episode; like some tawdry soap opera that is repeated ad infinitum for want of anything else to entertain. The same sad, pathetic, sickening spectacle of the Other, clumsy in love, stupid in jealousy, childish in conceit, irrational in faith, intolerant and oppressive in longing: The Other who enters your space, is welcomed into the privacy of one's most intimate and innermost confession, only to see the colonising tentacles of possessiveness uncoil and reach out, grasping, touching, moving and removing all those things that are so dear to me.
'I only want you for myself'; 'I want to love you for myself', 'I only want to start a new life with you', 'I only want you to forget your past', and so on, and so forth: the plaintive cries of the other are so, so, tiring and predictable; they no longer move, they no longer affect.
How odd, and sad, that the one who professes love is often the one who doesn’t understand what it is, and what it entails.
To talk of love and loving is glib and facile; living with the attendant responsibilities of respect and ethics is something else entirely. The former is the aspiration, the latter the deed.

How many times have I witnessed this sad pantomine of misguided emotions let loose? How many times have my space been invaded, my possessions divested, my memories trampled upon and forced to retreat before the advance of the one who professes love but who only imposes?
How many times have I returned only to find that one other memory of mine has been robbed from me; one more photograph displaced, one more letter torn or burnt, one more note effaced. How many times have my space been invaded by the intrusive claws of this thing they call Love.

Our pain and our past make us who and what we are. There are those who try to forget, but some of us try to reconcile and re-member the broken body of our shattered history as best we can; and to live and live on, as scarred bodies that carry the shards and fragments of our broken pasts embedded in our selves.
My pains and my memories are mine, and nobody has the right to rob me of them. To love, and to utter those fateful words that profess that love, is never easy: One loves only when one can accept the other in the Other's totality, warts and all, flaws notwithstanding. Yet how many times have I been proven wrong, and how many times have my judgment faltered. Every outward gesture, every invitation, has instead been met with intrusion, invasion, violation of my private space, my Self.

Oh, for a love not colonising. For a love that is born out of acceptance and not wanting, not possessing, not clasping, not suffocating.
For a love that can sit by your side on the park bench, quietly smiling, watching from close yet afar, with wonderment and tenderness.
For a love that sees with eyes that do not spy; hands that touch but never clutch.
A love content, quiet, still in its constancy and that says to itself: "Here beside me is the man I love, in a world entirely his own, vast, expansive, rich".
How far am I from that happy land; and for now all I am left with are my memories that echo like footsteps in the dark.
Yet rather that than possession; may nothing and no-one ever own me.

End. - Farish Noor.

I find new meaning every time I read it again. The struggles and the effort to keep the flame burning yet at the same time it is delicate in case of any wrong move. I get closer to a first person's point of view than a second or third. This passage contains a quote that is dear to me. And I realize to some extent, bravery I do not possess. I recoil.

你不知道的事

:)

And I found something mindless to watch!

Sunny side up.

It's been a while since I met any of my mother's colleagues. I spent this weekend catching up with a couple of them during the company's family day at Desaru. Some aged a bit, bellies grew but many I could still recognize.

I have to admit, I initially thought that since most of my peers wouldn't have attended it and since I'm not such a smooth auntie-talker, nor a face that attracts tiny tots, I expected myself to be quite out of place. I figured out since it was a beach outing, and since Zoukout didn't materialize, it'll be a fun time with the family.

It turned out that I was not the only twenty something over there. Everyone has grown so big. O.O And it's difficult to imagine how fast time has passed. One was even working already.

Being the queen of awkward that I am, while people rattle away, I listened and stayed deep in thought. It's hard to digest when you see how pranksters become model examples of society, it's not the first time I've said it. This other one, was like a kid when I last saw him and now he's taking STPM.

I feel old.

Funny how people move on from one point to another at different rates. Though like many acquaintances, I doubt we'll be meeting or keeping in touch after this. It was fun while it lasted though.

As I watch people get serious with life, I realize it's about time I did too.

Fix me.

But if you never try you'll never know just what you're worth - Coldplay.

Drive.

To drive along the highway back home is an accomplishment for me. It's strange how the sense of accomplishment never lingers long enough to keep me happy. The constant longing for such a feeling perhaps is only sparked by my inability to consistently accomplish things often enough for me to recognize.

My parents were really lax with how they brought me up. They never pressured me and constantly gave me recognition for any achievement which came by coincidentally, they were often very very tactful with criticism.

How often do I get to walk up on stage to receive a reward of sorts? Not very often.

My bag of achievements only came by during University when I actually started for the first time scoring well for the subjects. Completing Honours, is yet another achievement.

But why do I always have this nagging feeling that I'm never good enough? Does this recognition always come from someone else? Or does the problem lie with my failure to recognize these?

Is this the reason why I keep thinking I'm not good enough for higher paying jobs and better companies? My doubts. My lack of drive. My inability to accept criticism.

This recognition, I realize, ultimately comes from myself. My own disapproval of my capabilities. And it's something that I have to rectify.

:)

Back home in Johor right now never felt better. Settling in my bed. But it doesn't feel the same anymore. My room has been unoccupied for a while so there's this musky smell emitting from my pillows. So are the clothes I left in the cupboard. I'm typing from the table I used to mess up during my college days. Now It's neat as fuck. I assure you it will be messy in a few days time.

This is a space I used to call mine, and unlike how I took over my brother's room when he left for college, there was no one to take over mine. The fact that I still have this space, I feel, is a metaphor to signify no matter how far or how long I'm gone, there is still a place for me at home. A place I can come back to when I need to. A place that no one else can offer.

I'm starting to get excited.

Acknowledgments.

In no particular order, my thanks go out to:

Dr. Yeoh Seng Guan, for his efforts and commitment as my Honours supervisor. Thanks for lending me books and other materials (including the left-side of your brain for constructive feedback and the right to produce ‘Yeoh-isms’ to keep me afloat) that were needed throughout the process of writing this dissertation.

My interviewees: Alexa, Natasha, Emily, Yaya and Monalisa for giving me valuable insights and participating in this project.

Other staff and students at Building 2, level 6, for company and support throughout the Honours year. Dr. Sharon A. Bong, Dr. Helen Nesadurai and the late Benjamin McKay (like your departure, your arrival at SASS has also touched us in many ways): your kindness will not be forgotten.

My family: for providing an unlimited supply of love and support. Mummy and Papa, the two of you were never felt far even despite residing 3 states away. To Sze Wei and A-Ma, who I have not spent enough time with but yet have me in mind, I will make it up to you soon.

Nadiah and Paulista: for educating me through nerdy theoretical debates and curry puffs I thoroughly enjoyed.

Weiyan: for being an awesome wingman despite your own uber tight schedule.

Karina: the who got me interested in fashion in the first place. Thanks for showing me the wonders that fabric and a loyal friend could make.

Sonia: who pulls off the sexy ‘little black dress’ look nicely but is even more awesome in an apron. Danke schon for the home cooked meals and brilliant company!

Sharveen: a fellow research student I empathize with, good luck for your dissertation, buddy.

Jason: for your extremely mindless but effective de-stressing humour.

Alex: thank you for Adam Lambert concert tickets and sushi and his ‘other-half’ Weiliang, the one who believes everything is either a good thing or a bad thing, for being a good thing.

To everybody who was there through during the process, thanks and spanks. This is for you.

*

I don't have to read another academic book anymore. :D

Happy Birthday Alex YEOoOo. :D With love!

Terms and conditions apply.

But too bad I didn't read the fine print.

First up, Reggae Bar.

I'm just looking at myself in the mirror going oh gosh. I don't fit my fancy clothes anymore. *bimbuuu* :D I don't think the whole thing can end even better than this. It's the best feeling, yet the most dreadful one as well.

The whole year has been fruitful. And coming back to Monash and to KL has been like possibly the best decision I've made. I've learnt, grown and yeh maybe more aware now what to expect once I set foot into the real world.

Can I live in a 'jungle'?

With time and what I have, I can live anywhere.

Now it's just a matter of choosing which jungle to inhabit only. tsk tsk.

About there.

In harshness we develop.

See me.

See me beyond my misery.
See me beyond my flaws.
See me as this person who seems free.
But this person actually falls.

I don't think I'm hard to handle although there are times I become hard on myself. GAH. Homesick. X(

But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

Constantly finding that one thing that I'm so passionate about I'll ache to get there. And when I do get there, the pains will be worth it.

I love.

Do people always turn out to be a hopeless romantic or a complete non-believer?

Growing Balls of Steel.

It's ironic how I take Honours to work in Singapore but upon finishing it, I decided to stay put. Though I may be young and unsure of myself possibly even foolish, I believe I'll get there. It's not that I don't want to move but it's more like I believe it would be a little more practical for now to stay put.

But coming from Johor, I've already 'moved' to KL and later Melbourne and I know what it's like. I've yet to see how my home is. Even though I've spent two years in Kuala Lumpur, I've never ventured out the fringes of Subang and Damansara. This year had been a year of discovering what home had to offer. And there's just so much that other places can't.

Maybe my ideals will kill me. But I'll be patient. I believe migration should be a personal choice. I'm just too much of a home-person to venture out. It feels like coffee induced palpitations.

After Honours, NO MORE STARBUCKS.

Deadline extended. Tiyou.

Leaving

I'm running out. Doing my shit somewhere else. Neighbours above me seriously horribly insensitive with the amount of noise they make.

And I can't wait to move out!

Definite

I sympathize with the very people that construct my beliefs when they suddenly become the ones that make me doubt them.

Knife.

I actually feel quite bad for knife.

6 days.

isze

i foresee an impending quarter life crisis

DAWG.

QOOOOOOOO. ARGH. SHO CUTE. I WANT A DOGGIE.

Source: From Google.

Hari Raya Haji

I understand the significance of this day is similar to thanksgiving. People slaughter cows and give them as food to the poor. The same way families take a break from their daily routines to gather for this purpose.

As a child, I used to cycle past random cows and goats tied to ropes within the confines of the neighborhood mosque. Grazing on grass one day, probably oblivious of what they are about to face. I've never seen the ceremony or the process of the slaughter but I can faintly remember my parents drove through the mosque once and I saw like a glimpse of what was happening. About 4 or 5 (maybe more) men is needed to hold the cow. And there'll be another dude with the knife-y thing. There was struggle, there was sweat, there was blood, there were sounds.

Cruel. You'd say. But that's not the point.

The very reason why we are alive now is because many lives ended. Some certainly ended in this manner.

Dramaqueen.

Every man has a right to risk his own life for the preservation of it. ~ Rousseau

I was told I can be quite a drama queen. I think I should seriously take up script writing to channel my lavish imagination into something else. Mehh. :D

Post-Honours plans.

1. KL - On the night of submission, Bangsar + Beer 7pm to 7am. I presume I will be the first one to get knocked out so it's fine.
   
2. Home, for the fun of it. YAYYYY~ Kacau cousins. LOL.
   
3. Ikea, for the fun of it.
   
4. Penang/Melaka/Langkawi.
   
5. DAVID GUETTA IN FLESH. HOLYOMGFGZOMGARGHHHHH - ZOUK OUT @ SENTOSA.
6. Korean Drama Marathon - Haven't collected titles yet, but it would be good to finish off what I have started watching halfway through honours. The new Hyunjoong one. Rewatch You're beautiful. Maybe ask Fikri for good Korean drama's to watch.
   
7. Family Guy Marathon - The pirate will steal.
   
8. Try to find joy in reading after honours. Read the novels that I bought ten thousand years ago.
   
9. Cycling/Swimming.
10. Whip up a couple of dishes later in new kitchen.
    
11. Work - part-time work while going for Job interviews.
12. Pack room. Unpack LATER IN JANUARYYYY YAY.
13. Sleep.
14. Eat.
    
15. Poop.

Ok. Done. Fun. I can't waittttt.

Ok, back to editing.

Superficial.

I am a firm believer that being superficial is what Erving Goffman calls, Stigma Management.

What is there to hide?

Have a Cuppa.

A love content, quiet, still in its constancy and that says to itself: "Here beside me is the man I love, in a world entirely his own, vast, expansive, rich". - Farish Noor.

*

4 months.

Besame Muchooo

To people I love.

In pursuit of different aims in life. Different fields and interests but one motive in common: the future. Though we are apart, we dealt with distance knowing that we would meet up again someday. For eons I thought of going back to Melbourne: put it simple a good stressful getaway. I thought: I don't want to study and nobody would possibly employ me. Then I thought of how I would adapt, and I thought some more about how I would live, thought even longer how I would part.

Gippsland is not boring.

The first one to graduate.

The graduate's kick-ass uncle.

A year with best friend.

Unhealthy indulgence.


Equally unhealthy.

My canadian tutor I had a crush on.

Second most unhealthy indulgence.

Now that I different aim, I think again. Because to me I know this aim would take more than just my emotional investment to achieve. It takes a lot of balls too.

Perhaps the way I romanticize my final year in Melbourne disallows for closure. I know someday I want to return, it's just that: I wouldn't know what for.


*

People say I'm far-sighted. But the thickness of my glasses says otherwise =D

Sentimental fool.

Because I don't replace the things I love.

time flies.

Time flies like a bitch.

Proximity and expectation.

Go fly kite.

I haven't forgotten what you taught me, Dad.

So what did you indulge in today?

Everyone has an unhealthy indulgence. While some find comfort in Chocolate, Chips, Ice Cream, and alcohol, others indulge in watching watching scale needles tip, that big bulge, that big pimple, that flat chest, that scar, those we need to cover what then do we expose?, compulsions to stare at the naked body, overkill, skyrocketing points, collapsed opponents, love, hate, loving a person who will never love us back, morbidity, work, perfection, guilt, failure, the past, hurt... no matter what people say, we indulge. We damage ourselves in some way. We don't stop. We like to do it because, no matter how unhealthy it is, we get a feeling of going against something that is already set out for us. It's satisfying. And to negate its existence, would mean a loss of compulsion to do SOMETHING, something you do best in the un-best. We lose that emotional catharsis. We lose the satisfaction. To neglect 'something' that we essentially should not. It's how we are. It reminds us we are human. It reminds us the very core of how human we are and how fucking uncontrollable these urges are but yet, we get the illusion that we are in control because we CAN refuse to control ourselves. We CAN allow ourselves to lose control. It's the only thing within our controls anyway.

So what did you indulge in today?

I'm just waiting

I'm just waiting for that day when one of them comes up to me and say. "SZE JIAA! I'm together with him!" I don't know which one will come up to me first though.

*grows beard*

Anyway, I've been blogging excessively now. And you can tell when I blog excessively it means I have work to do and blogging is the only way I get a break so yeah. I don't how this month is going to work out but I know eventually it will. *fingers crossed* Being detained under house arrest is not funny ah!!!

I need to see the sun.

Ikea Meatballs after this. I MUSTO. Omnomnoms. Been on a diet of bread, nestum and maggi. I am going to treat myself :D YAYNESS.

Suddenly.

Suddenly
Life has new meaning to me
There's beauty up above and things we never take notice of
You wake up and suddenly you're in love
-Billy Ocean.

Homeward bound.

Someone's coming homeward boundddd! YAY-ness.

How in the world did two sems just passed by like that. LOL. A bit regretful for not finishing up earlier, drats. BUT WILL MAKE TIME. Hoit! Peace out!

:)

Harloweenn.

c

zomg shanwee teehee - Taken from P10 Rosalyn's blog.

On Halloween (sunday)... I came back at 8am in the morning. Not from a party, but from a pretty intensed production project (with quite a halloween feel considering we stayed till it was dark at the 3rd level of Imbi Plaza carpark) called the 48-Hour film project. It means, you've got to plan & shoot & edit the shortfilm (7 minutes max) and include certain items as props (our team was a Golf Ball) and a character name (Danisha Mamat) and genre (Silent Film) which were all given at our starting time, 7pm Friday. I'm not a very visual person to come up with how these 7 minutes will look like, but boy did the group have theirs.

Met good people of Malaysia. Exchanged pretty interesting conversations. Spoken to a couple of other strangers while looking for the shoot location. I hate how every road in KL is one-way street and alleys are hard to find. I remember before this I was wondering lamenting to myself how art is impractical. I dread impracticality and dealing with impractical people because I've been brought up to do things the most practical way possible.

BUT

I guess after seeing the process of making this, art is supposed to be impractical. To some extent, it's true. Will never see a film/tv production the same anymore.

Definitely wanna have a belated Halloween-ish party after Honours.

Minor bouts of tears and verbal diarrhea streaming in. Yes.

But 29 more days of Hanging.

And its the end of the semester.

Doubt and worry kicks in.

The most beautiful things are those that madness prompts and reason writes. –Andre Gide

Quite human.

Shelf.

--Saw this in FTV.

I wished I had a longer shelf life.

Long.

When you don't see certain people for too long, you get used to missing them.

To date.

Up to today, I have not met a single person who supports Malaysia's new phallus (apart from Ng Yen Yen, who obviously, works for the goverment). We've already got two, (fancy, but it's not fully occupied), so is there really a need for another? Imagine what 5 billion dollars can go to. Improving the education system for a start. Better roads and transportation, KL traffic is fucked up. One must wonder where on earth did this 5 billion come from?

Of course, the debate goes on and on. KL is already congested as it is, and it's not like we're Singapore. We have plenty of space. It's ironic how Malaysia preaches moderation, when our government it's all about excess. Money being mishandled. A complete disregard for ethics. No such thing as meritocracy. Racism prevailing spawning even more intense racial tension and segregation. We have Ibrahim Ali. This other Titiwangsa guy who SHOULD BE DETAINED UNDER ISA over what he said at the UMNO general meeting. And yet people like this continue roam and pollute minds of the people.

Malaysia has one big fragmented national discourse. I can only hope the one I belong to is more dominant than the other.

Funneh!

Hur hur hur

Babi-fied.

Something about crispy skin and grease. :)

*

OKAY. FINAL SPRINT. CAN ONE. ONE MORE CHAPTER. NOT VERY FAR AWAY. DAMN NEAR IN FACT. DAMN LA I SO FAT. AND NOTHING ELSE TO DO ON FRIDAY'S ALREADY. KUMAR IS AWESOME. CHOCOLATE OVER DOSE. COFFEE NOT ENOUGH DOSE. AHHHHHHHHHHH

KAKI.

KAKI, in Malay means leg. And then, it's also used to describe inadequacy (Kaki bangku - Leg-of-a-Stool, rationalized as Stiff legs and inability to play balls... I mean ball games). Then it can also be used to describe 'addiction' (Kaki Judi, Kaki Botol, Kaki Bola - Kaki Botol). But all in all, regardless of whether our proficiency in Malay, it is also (most commonly known and) colloquially used to describe a chum, buddy or a really close friend. Can sometime be used like this:

"My Badminton kaki-"
"My uni kaki-"
"My clubbing kaki-"
"My mamak kaki-"

I just like to illustrate how the word referenced to a body part is so versatile in the Malay Language. And the very-malaysian flavour it exudes.

One reason why they use Kaki to describe a friend I think is synonymous to the body part, your leg, which is integral to your movement. You run, you walk, you trip over it. You stand up, you jump up, climb trees, you reach incredible heights with it. You scrape your knee, you sprain your ankle, but it heals, scars may stay but the pain does not lasts forever. Your mobility depends on your legs. Being able to be mobile, being able to do things, jump, hope, dance, cycle, drive... without my kaki, I imagine my life to be very different. (PLEASE NOTE)

Quite lonely la har? :)

So you see, one of my kaki-s that I've known for the longest time is celebrating her birthday today. But I am unable to be there with her. And she is celebrating it a little later because she has got work and exams coming right up. Being an October baby myself (4 days apart yo), I emphatise. She has been there for good and for worse, every step of the way. Even when we are apart, her presence is never lost. Phone calls, random text messages, tweets, skype karaoke (?!!) and all.

BAHAHA. :D

Being apart hasn't always been the easiest for us but for all we've learnt and for all the good times we had spent together for like... the past ten thousand years, you know me inside out, see me at my best, seen me at my worst but still stuck on like any kaki would. For my inadequacies I apologize. I may not have always been like how you have been to me, but through it all I hope there were things I did right.

Shrek! Albert Ling sesat. LOL.

Thank you for your thoughtfulness, for your support, kind advices and listening ear. All in all, thank you for the friendship and love.

Paiseh lah so cheesy.

Happy 22nd Birthday Kanina! :D BAHAHAHA.

Karina Ng Li Chean is the best kaki in the world! aka currypau, currypuff, japanese curry, maggi curry, all things yummy.

Don't kill me.

Award winning concept.

Award winning smiles. :)

Happy Birthday!

Loves,

Booger. (still don't know how you came up with this =.=)

Overwhelmed.

O.O

Overwhelmed.

O.O

AHHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHHHHHHH!

WOW. WOW. WOW.

Got a really touching email from a student in my class. *collapses in tears*

This is for Ben yo!

Deal or no deal.

It was a clock that talks and tells you the time. I walked around those little fancy gift shops just walking around until I saw this.

Mine looks something like this but it's blue in colour:



It looked like a buzzer, and when you press it, it literally tells you the time. Meddling with it, I was amused to find out it was a talking clock. Thoroughly amused, I pressed it a number of times calling my friends over to come a see it. The amusement on my face, the puzzled look on theirs.

To wish, I turned to see the price tag at the back of the clock. RM 45 ringgit. After contemplating for several minutes, a) i needed an alarm clock, b) it was round and psuedo-balled shaped, c) it talks, d) i didn't think I can find it anywhere else, I decided to buy it.

This is just one of my compulsive purchases. Now it's there, lying by my bed side. It becomes an object of abuse when I'm asleep (stupid Sonia keeps pressing it to count down to midnight, in turn I do the same onto her). That fancy UFO thinggy that could easily pass off as a decorative item until somebody actually takes a closer look.

I love it to death the first day of my purchase. Or at least I loved it to death at some point of my life.

I still wonder, why is it a female voice?

This year.

I'm the happiest person alive. Even with work waiting for me to do, I am the happiest person alive.

Happy Birthday To Me.

Ring ring ring ring ring Banana Phone!

EDIT 24 October 2010.

Not for kids below 18.

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Scroll lowerrr

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It's gonna be quite funny

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I wonder if this is what my friends actually think of me.

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I had a ball nonetheless!



=DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Shudder.

Forced environments. And the bitch I am.

One.

Things just happen.

Life lived with an illusion of control is life lived without meaning.

One way I justify my own self lack of control.

Had the final serious class with FTV today. The next tutorial is just going to be for housekeeping.
I don't know what to feel. It's been quite an experience since signing up for it. However, at the same time, it was also one of the only most eventful thing of my second semester.

Given a second chance, I'd do it. And I'll do it better.


*

Low.

Why get high when you can get low?

The smartest thing I thought of today.

My time with you.

Upular. Happy Three.

Pictures.

Happy Kid.

I'm a happy kid. I grew up one. I ate like one. I bummed around like one. Made friends like one. I talk like one (at least until I encounted Foucault and Marx). I drive like... Ok, maybe not so much. Malaysian drivers aiyoyo. But I accept that this happiness may not have always been from circumstances that were genuine nor always been perpetual with little glitches in life. This happiness may be a cloak to conceal something I wish to hide from people around me. At the same time, definitely some situations created to happify me may also be done out of obligation. But still it makes me happy.

It's only in recent years I realized I fail as a happy-shiny person. Quite happy, but not so shiny.

I don't conceal very well. And people who know me well can pick it up. But I am happy because I don't have a very big memory space. I can become selective of what I remember.

BAHAHAHA. THESIS DRIVING ME CRAZY NO DOUBT.

But I'm a happy kid.

Side note: Chiangmai video gonna be aired today! Whoopie!

Hall and Oates (1998)

Gyah. It's October. Old. Poke. Thesis. Uncomplete. Guilty. When. Doing. Everything. Else. ARGH.

A busy week ended with a bang.

Hairspray. Everybody needs a can. :)

Thursday.

Seapigs and stress don't go well together. But this one tries to.

Glad the week is almost over. Wouldn't say it's completely unproductive have had sometime to Unagi @ chapter two. At the same time have had Sonia for company.

There's this really numb feeling on my right forearm and wrist now. Gosh needs to improve posture.

Tomorrow's Friday. Tutorial, Seksualiti Merdeka, and Hairspray! Possibly my last busiest day of the week. Do drafting. Writing starts Saturday. :)

And I write with pictures of you in my mind. Hang in there =)

Saengil Chukahae.

Birthday Girl might like this ;) Keep dancing around. Keep up that energy. Eat lotsa sushi burger for me. LOL. Everything orange reminds me of you!!! LOL. Don't bully smoochie. :) Life is already filled with hurdles as it is glad I have a friend like you to help me through them.

OCTOBER BABIES ARE AWESOMEEEE :D

Happy Birthday Alva Huang Yan Ting aka Alvaca & Lava. :)

You must be tired on display at the Royal Melbourne Show :D :D :D :D

I DEDICATE THIS TO YOU

Inadequacy.

I would physically struggle with this. But it doesn't exist in physical form.

Today I learnt.

Not all Iranians like Khomeini.

Things I don't understand.

It is not the first time I've encountered someone from an abusive relationship. It is also not the first time I have to watch someone close to me gone through this. Whether physically or emotionally, both cause equal harm exerted through power asymmetry. But then the complication is that abuse like many other things are self definitive. Yet at the same time, sometimes I forget. I must be lucky having to not experience it for myself until today. Sometimes I forget, the constant supply of empathy is all that is needed to help such experiences. Sometime I forget that some situations can be helped in times that are short. I constantly try not to step in because when I do, I don't do it right. I just never did.

To put it metaphorically, sometimes it's like watching a plant wither while hesitating to share the water that is in your hands. Sometimes, it is like watching an injured animal, but not sure what to do to nurse it back to health. Sometimes it's like mourning for a death of someone you don't know personally. Grievance is not shared, hence you feel like anything you do is just not enough.

These are just some things I don't understand but my move to inquire does show that I someday wish to but at the same time fear. Though ultimately I try as much as I can to understand it now. Day by day as I watch this plant wither, the limped body of something that was once alive, I mourn. Even though mourning does not come close to understanding of what has become, I'd do all I can, and that is all I can do, holding onto hope that someday this too shall pass.

Destructive.

I believe love is not destructive.

Anything destructive of close to destructive is not worth that sacred title.

I detest irrationality.

Pro-duck-tive.

Unproductivity will not do.

The attention I pay.

Before 2pm today I:

1. Pump petrol eventhough my tank is not empty.
2. Filled my tyres with air. been procrastinating since forever.
3. Went to MPH @ One U.
4. Forever 21 @ make-me-poor sale.
5. Tried servicing my car at Toyota without an appointment.
6. Kena rejected like dog (Alex, 2009). Made an appointment to service my car. Thurs, 1.30pm.
7. Came to Starbucks. With work. Ate. Drank. Coffee funkysizing my tummy.

Not sure if I should leave my table.

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All in all. Not productive work-wise but productive in other ways.

Perpetual.

Even if happiness is not perpetual, it is still a form of happiness.

Excited for October.

OMG REUNIONNN.

Job.

And so it sinks.

I met a couple of friends I chilled with in Melbourne last Friday. There I was seated in the middle of the group talking about their jobs and jobs to-be. Their anxieties, their enthusiasm, everything under the sun. I listened picturing myself in their shoes. Btw, grats to Rom who just got a job. And Richmond who survived his first week of it. Alex who is there when I was in financial emergency. I will be eternally grateful.

All in all, I never expected to be part of a conversation like this so soon. It just hit me that it's not long before I will be like them. I really really need a job. Tutoring is all fun and good part-time, but I need a real-time job.

Travel and Tourism - Even though it has nothing to do with my course, it's one thing I'm genuinely interested.

Teaching - Although I was told colleges normally go for a masters graduate for that.

Corporate communications - Yes. Slave of the corporate world I be.

Writer - Like I always planned. But am I good enough?

Activist - I can see myself doing something related to women's aid or children. Hopefully. =)

So many choices. But at this point in time, I don't know what to do with my life. I do know people who are in the similar shoes I'm in. I emphasize. I can't imagine how studying life is ending so soon. It's like how many years in a blink of an eye?

It's 1.32 am and I can't sleep.

How to train your dragon.

Source: IMDB.

Secrets aplenty.

I seem to be better at expressing negativity on my blog. Writing happy things don't make me reach much word count. Am I someone one who prefers to shares my self-defined misery in great detail and keep my happiness to myself? I don't believe I am that kind of person but reading my old blog posts, they get more word count. Maybe I am just being modest. Too modest to present the little perfection in my life too a point, where I need to highlight things that went wrong to have me and others embrace the little imperfections in life. At least I should try to put all things happy as well to provide a closer representation of who I am.

So many opinions I keep away from here. The whack education system, what I really think about Najib, what I really think about Rosmah's plastic surgery, what I really think about alcohol, drugs, fucked up relationships around me, racism in and out of Malaysia, my take on religion...

But truth be told, I cannot provide a closer representation of my life to the very sense of it's word. It's just physically impossible. Memory may fail. My perception may be biased. The whole point is to not be objective, but I find it blasphemous to be completely biased. It may feel like this for a day and then change my mind another. So how is representation ever accurate?

Broken.

Shards of glass.

On the floor.

I groan thinking about cleaning it once more.

Adversity.

In times of adversity think of one time that was not.

It helps a little bit. :)

it sets in.

Simple.

It's not simple at all.

Bola 2010.

I swear I did not steal his food.

:)

*

All is fun and good. Although I had no success to get Izalea and Sonia to come in a pink dress, but to drag them to a formal event was still a feat.

Will belanja you a steak, Izalea. Will buy you a lolly, Sonia.

*

It might've been harder than I thought. But fingers crossed. After this week, all will be well.

We're still WOOTS like 8 years later.

Take note: Kui Jien was not mentioned in this post. Until now. TEEHEE.

O.

M.

G.

Gnoooooooo!

I just realized I'm cheap labour. :O :O

What am I doing wrong?

K-drama.

How can I still not find this ridiculous?! :D

Have no idea how this would turn out. The taiwanese version was by far zomgs damn good. And I cannot compute Kim Hyunjoong as a smart bad-ass in my mind. This goes to my things-to-do-after-honours list (Though I'm not sure if i can resist temptation until then).

Laura Mulvey is very wrong in this one. She said many shows used to be done based on the male gaze. As a female viewer, you still watch it from the point of view of the man. This may apply to Holly wood.

I could so write a whole thesis about this. Korean dramas always catered to the female gaze and desires more than the male. Average girl and a recent big-break high-profile resident good looker cum boybander in the Korean entertainment industry. You get the drift. :)

I don't find this ridiculous. I could write ten thousand theses on Korean dramas forever and ever and ever. :D :D :D

One Chunk.

I admit, I don't deal with nostalgia very well. Which is why I try to by writing it down. For every photo that captures the passing moment, and every image that captured the passing moment, I hold on in my reverie. Lately, I noticed I've been doing it a little more often than I did before. It just seemed to me that I had a wealth of things to look back at. How we've grown to what we are today. With every inch the children stand, with every wrinkle that appears on the adults' face, everything just got me wondering, isn't time passing a little too fast?

Attachment to people is often malleable. Feelings change, people change, we adapt, although we mustn't forget the difficulty in this lies in the act of adapting to change. Attachment to things perhaps a little harder to cope. It's because they stay with you. They function. They make your life a lot easier without saying 'no'. They do what they're meant to do without rejecting you. Attachment to things I feel is also difficult to remove. Some things I have, I still look back now, and still feel that what if I still had it? Things I've lost out of carelessness, or things that have been taken away from me, or things I sold. These items which accompanied me through a specific amount of time when things happened. Attachment to place is another. I feel deeply deeply ingrained in my brain a want that I fail to remove completely.

But I like to see myself a a big puzzle. With pieces lying every where, a moment that filled people who have parted or things that someone else might be holding.

It's been a little over two months and one thing that kept on reappearing every day and catching my attention is about to be sold off. I first noticed it in the early days of April. And since then, it has always constantly appearing. It's still quite unbelievable how things turned out through the course of time. It definitely got my attention like how it was intended. It definitely was part of something that made a chunk of me. And like every departure, this one left with a chunk of me.

Assume.

I lost count of my epic phail moments. Bahahahah.

Anyways, Back to JB tomorrow for family reunion of sorts. WOOOOOOOOOOO! HAPPY.

Jim Morrison.

To Crack.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpOTNKHvISM

And to reflect.

Clickkk to go to my pseudo Singaporean life bible----> A heart that hurts is a heart that works

Unagi.

:)


*

In this world,

People do see beyond the size and aesthetics of the body.

Overwhelmed.

I cannot focusssss. ARGH.

Off schedule dy.

*curse and swear*

Mourn.

It is how you build your life around something, and then you watch it waste away. But it doesn't mean you can't rebuild it again.

I hope all ends well.

Destination

It's not the destination, it's the journey.

Party Hard.

I frown at the sheer stupidity of the second semester.

Hurricane

“i wanted so badly to lie down next to her on the couch, to wrap my arms around her and sleep. not fuck, like in those movies. not even have sex. just sleep together, in the most innocent sense of the phrase. but i lacked the courage, and she has a boyfriend and i was gawky and she was gorgeous and i was hopelessly boring and she was endlessly fascinating. so i walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, i was drizzle and she was hurricane.”

- john green, looking for alaska

I just had to put this up when I saw it on Perfect 10's Rozz's blog. Couldn't sleep. And now after seeing this I'm even more awake.

OH SO SWEET I just wanna die. *nerdmetaphoricalmindphuck*

*

People say, heartbreak is when love is not love anymore. I believe heartbreak is until love is found again. Of course, if this is yet another test of my belief, I am keen to see how long it stands. If I live long enough to give a testament, I will.

I truly truly am lucky. Therefore I thank. I know I said I didn't before, but maybe now, I believe in this thing called fate, though not to the purest sense. I sit on the fence. How irrational. But I like.

Examiner

Yep. In search of one for a doctor for my baby due Oct/Nov.

I finished reading this book the past week and this ushered in an ultimate Unagi moment.

This author agreed.

One down. One more to go.

Salam Merdeka.

Dear Malaysia,

I thought about you a lot when I was away.
I thought about what you offered and what you had that I didn't at where I stood.
I stood at dark cobalt stone alleys dipping my boot into dew.
The chill engulfed me with the wind and yet the sun was shining.
I hopped off from tram to tram.
I rushed from train to train.
This life was one I technically could live with.
With facilities to make sure my comfort,
and meals to make sure I would eat.
But what was there that made me feel incomplete?

I love you too much to watch you crumble.
I wished I loved you enough to hold you so you wouldn't.
Would I be too docile to conform?
Or would I be too antagonistic to react?
Would I be too selfish to wait for someone else to keep you intact?
How should I declare my love for you?
However I do it others won't approve.

And like unrequited love, here I am. Living in limbo of the worst kind.

With Love,

Your Citizen.

Happy Birthday.

I hope everything falls into place.

Positive qiii.

When I get my own income, I am going to sign up for a gym membership. This maggi lifestyle will NOT do!

The pains of growing up.

My course has made me quite nihilistic than I was as a child. I frown and throw around ramblings yadayada 'Life sucks' at the age of 12, a pseudo-emo phase I shared with my friends, when at that time I was actually living without a care, or meaningful purpose apart from pleasing my friends who I no longer contact anymore and doing well for my exams.

But how can 'life suck' at the age of 12? Seriously?

Sure you're under the authority of the adults, but you get to rebel and get away with it. You get to negotiate your 'lack of power' and turn it against the adults. You get to say something hurtful and forget it the next minute. You get to essentially behave like a child. At 12, you are actually having a time of your life.

At 12, I had a functioning family. I had parents who didn't throw plates at each other. I had a computer which my brother and I compromised (after much effort) and shared. I had food on the table. Junk food in the cabinets. At 12, I was smart enough to stand on a chair to reach for it. I was obese but weight was never really had an issue with me that which seriously seriously disturbed me the way it disturbed Lindsay Lohan. I had metaphorical bruises along the way, but never felt the need to cover them up because they eventually disappear.

Growing up was HARDLY painful. You wanna know what's painful?

Politics is painful (or at least what they say is). Government controlled media is painful. Censorship is painful. Racism is painful. The NEP is painful. KL traffic is painful. Being broke is painful. Watching the homeless people in streets of Melbourne was painful. Fake people are painful. Assignments are painful. Unrequited love is painful. Failed love, even worse.

The seriousness of these emotional pains, the intensity, the uncontrollable circumstances that only arise when one becomes aware of bigger things in life. These are authorities you CANNOT rebel, NOW THAT IS PAINFUL.

The next kid who says life sucks just because he didn't get a toy he wanted for his birthday will get a slap some advice from me.

"Deal with it, bitch. Or go to Afghanistan."

I'm 22. And I still bruise myself. I know some bruises like this stay and essentially make you what you become. Perhaps that's life's purpose.

Stalker

My best bud has a stalker.

If that person stalks her far enough, he'll see this.

Intensity.

The intensity of your pain I feel is equivalent my empathy. Hopefully everything falls through.

Heat.

So in the midst of the discussion of hot dudes.

Person 1: *to me* So who do you think is hot?

I: Hmmm... I think-

(hesitant)

I: I think-

(hesitates)

it must've been at least twice it happened.

Him: Farish Noor right?

LOL. *Ruckus*. Drama. Objections. LOL.

I never had a problem answering this question. I wonder what this means. Awkward. :S

Farish Noor wouldn't have been my first choice though even if he was oozing with intellectual hotness.

I hope by the end of this post.

I hope by the end of this post I will feel sleepy. I miss sleeping. I miss sleeping without having to wake up in the middle of the night. And this is just one of my futile attempts to put myself to sleep in one such occasion.

The stress is settling in harder than ever now and it seems to me it's going to be a permanent resident until the end of the semester. I kinda get that big looming cloud of dread hanging over me when I sit on my mustard-yellow chair in the Honours room. It is very unsettling it is affecting my number 1 (or number two :D) love in life - Sleep.

The schedule is just getting more and more packed I have less and less time to spend with people I want to spent it with, more and more things to do and the worst part is it comes one-shot due one day after another. I know it'll benefit me in the long run and train me to be able to handle more than one thing at a time (something I'm rarely successful at as an undergrad). I'm losing my ability to focus. OMG.

Tutoring has been pretty much fun and fulfilling and as much as I hate to admit it, it's probably the only thing right now that I enjoy of all the work I have to do in a week. LOL. Glad I signed up. Don't get me wrong. I wouldn't consider myself a particularly brilliant student as an undergrad. I never pictured myself to be taking honours, let alone tutoring but here I am. Nervous at first, but getting the hang of what I do. The people I teach are more responsive than I initially thought as well. And like myself 3 years ago, they don't do their readings. Hahahaa. All is good.

I remember vaguely how the possibility of Honours came about. The possibility of Honours just popped up as I was finishing my last assignment in Melbourne. What do I do now? That dreadful question that looms above all our heads. The possibilities of making it in the working world, parting with good friends and all these comfort we once had was going to be taken away just like that no matter what path you choose. But new comforts that come after that reinstates how adaptable humans are.

I chose to pursue this only because I felt I didn't know enough. And pushed towards new boundaries slowly out of our comfort zones, I surprisingly made it. I don't feel like how I did 5 months ago. It's quite funny seeing myself stumbling my way here and there to where I am now. But when I look back and see how much I've developed from all these harshness, I am content. With all the wonderful support I get, the journey is worth walking.

James Morrison

HOLY COW NEW FAVOURITE JAMES MORRISON SONNNNGG. AACCKKK!


Old favourite but still a favourite.



Remind me to thank Youtube in my Acknowledgements section in my thesis.

Flashhh backkk

Common daddy-song in the car when I was a kid.

Docile.

It's not about what you want but it's about what you need.

I sat at the cafeteria pondering back and forth as my friends animatedly debated about this question:

Is love a need or a want?

Surely this question has been the food for many chic lits available in MPH.

Being in a rather awkward situation I was in, leaning against my bomb shelter, his hand in mine, when they were talking about it. We watched.

On the left hand corner, she harped about how one person could not live without food or water, and if love was a need one would die, literally, if he did not have it. Hence, love was a want. Something to have that would make a day feel complete but without it, you would not be any less complete. Technically it's possible to live on your own. You can eat on your own, you can sleep on your own, and you can even literally fuck on your own. One would not die without love.

However, the other argued from a more metaphorical sense in a way death was seen as a life not worth living. A life without love is one filled with sadness and lesser meaning. How can anyone live without love?

I argued there isn't necessarily love in a marriage pointing out arranged marriages and such, however, one interjected. 'Love and marriage is two different things.' One doesn't necessarily lead to another.

The debate was long but these were the main premises of their arguments. Being in a position where I'm in, I think this question is difficult to answer.

There were times I would've loved to have love. Times when I felt my life was incomplete that it no longer was a want but a need. How I thought how perfect my life would be just to have someone to depend on when times were hard. And at that time, perhaps, emotionally it was. And as much as I hate to admit it, this reason for so-called 'love' was a very selfish one.

Fast forward in time, presently. Now that you have it, you fear of losing it. And like how at that time I couldn't picture myself how it would be like actually being with somebody, my thoughts could never go beyond saying 'I like you too', I cannot picture myself having to live my life without that special person around anymore.

But in both situations, love doesn't only lie in a person or romance you desire. There you are in a foreign place thinking you need love when you were actually living pretty comfortably comparatively to other migrants, love was actually already there because love comes in many forms. Friends for support, family to ramble to. These are the people you connect with.

Even so, having felt different kinds of love... this is probably one questions I cannot answer.

Love encapsulates too many things which is why it is so hard to define.

Sledgehammer.

As nerdy as I sound, I really like my thesis topic.

I'm writing about dressing. Something so ordinary that people take for granted. I'm writing about dressing in the context of expression of faith. The visual-ness of Islam in Malaysia doesn't exist without the subjective-ness that lies beneath. Having said that, the fabric being part of the gender dimension of ethnic ideals as well patriarchy which cuts across all Asian civilizations. And how despite that, it can also be seen as a fashionable, current, modern piece of attire that can forges tradition and modernity presented as such in multiple media texts and cultural markets that solely dedicated to the female Muslim market.

Ok. So I need to expand this into 15000 words with Goffman, Foucault and some other theorists by my birthday. And I'm thinking to myself. Maybe, just maybe I can hit my hand with a sledgehammer and get an extension. Sounds like a plan.

One Big Circle.

KL is one big scary circle. Everybody is connected in someway. Holy crap.

*jaw drops*

The book of face.

Like wow.

I was surfing fb compulsively like I always do when I have work to do and I wished I hadn't because a) work is not done, b) you find out the darnest things on the Book of Face. At the homepage, where we get to see feeds and what not, I saw an update of a classmate, whom I am not friends with on fb, through congratulatory comments written by schoolmates who I am connected to. Normally once you have like more than 3 friends that comments/'likes' this status of someone you're not connected with, FB still shows it on your homepage anyway. Quite scary if you think of it this way. Dodgy.

But anyway, her update went - "I'm Pregnant, OMG! blabla etc" along the lines of thanking God.

First thing that came through my mind was, 'Was it out of wed lock?' And no, I'm not being mean, I just didn't know (but i found the next 2 minutes later) that she was actually already married for a while.

I k-po-ed through the comments. (28 comments and counting, 15 likes) First of all, it seemed like it's true, she really was pregnant and damn happy about it. And second of all, it didn't seem like it's out of wedlock. (Yes, i went to her profile page and saw her relationship status).

And I thought to myself, "What? She's married?!" Of course she wasn't the first of my peers that I know who are married or mothers really. There has been a couple of them. I don't know looking at us all 4 years back, I wonder how years after our delinquent days (not this particular friend. She was a prefect and a pretty friendly one at that. Don't remember getting trouble with her. She was nothing else but nice.) and that the possibility of us being mothers and bearers-of-the-nation and nurturers of a new generation and all that constructed social humbug that are imposed on women.

But still, I don't see myself at that age where I have peers flashing their 'married' (or pregnant) statuses on facebook. I'm not very old, the last I recall. In fact, I'm damn young. Too damn young to be a mother. I've only started dating. Handling a family of my own is the last thing on my mind. Or going through 9 months of bloating, hormonal imbalances and childbirth and what not and later nappy changing...

Wow. It's a big responsibility. HUGE I tell you. I don't see myself wanting to handle that when there is so many things in life that I haven't gone through, so many things I haven't seen. The last thing I want is a baby to tie me down. Just thinking like that makes me a bad woman, no?

The feminist in me say I should aspire to do more in life instead of making babies, hence the Honours and hopefully a decent pay cheque that accompanies it. Of course occasionally I would mentally gush at the thought of how I could go through 9 months of pregnancy instead of grueling 9 months of writing a thesis. BUT that's strictly partly because through the process of writing a thesis can make you feel like that.

OR do I subconsciously want to be a stay-home mum and conform to this tyranny of nurturing and all that fetch kid to school fetch him back, cook, clean, do homework, yell, get messy hair, age a bit, displace discontent of husband's depleting affection by focusing on children?

It's pretty conflicting when it comes to this. I used to be the little girl who thought of marriage as an the epitome of happiness in life (Thank you so much, you anglocentric racist brainwashing Disney) but despite being at a marriagable age now, I don't know what to think. I am surprised by my own reaction towards this.

I am wavering between 'omigosh poor girl missing out on so much' and a wholehearted 'congratulations!' immediately after seeing it, which became more like 'Hah~'. But for all I know, she may be the happiest woman alive right now while I lead my life of a pseudo-feminist 'apparently' emancipating myself from male domination but still live in the world where sexism and patriachy exists in my consciousness. I'm trapped in the big box as they say. A big fking unpenetrable box.

I was rambling about this to my classmates there are stories.

One of them just recently got back from a wedding and the bride is 20 years old. Another friend of hers who got married in Sem 1 is currently already pregnant, and not-so-happily ever after, another got married after highschool had a baby and is now going through a divorce.

So one of them commented (after i admited to mental gushing) "I'd rather do honours, man! Honours is only until October. A baby is for the rest of your fking life."

I stare at the empty comment box. Do I congratulater her?

She has 31 comments now.

Though, I cannot imagine myself in her position right now, do I subconsciously envision myself as her someday?

And I'm back to work.

Bombshelter.

'Twas the day after an overwheeeelming month, bomb scares and bad hair, ginger ale and big grand sales, deadlines and landmines. And we scraped through.

*

I met an old friend again, after 4 years. Her afro still screams out awesomeness. But talking to her, I know somethings have changed. I know, it's been 4 years since I last saw her. And 4 years is an awfully long time when a lot of things can happen. The last I heard she was in the UK because she was bitching about potatoes on fb. I imagined that insane quirky ketua-pengawas (the best ever) prancing around etc. In school, we were without a care. And when we're thrown out into the real world, in a foreign country, we see so much, we scar so much. We had greater ideals as a child that shatters as we grow up.

Truth be told, I am disappointed at how we can't be kids anymore. It's not only her, I too find that it takes effort to be a child again.

I hope everything falls in place for her.

Side note, some people change, some people don't.

Another friend of mine got pissed drunk before the birthday boy got wasted heck. Tsk tsk tsk. I don't drop names, people also know who lah har.

:)

When in doubt, Google.

Lucky.

It feels like I struck lottery but I don't get a million dollars. And it's actually a good thing.

Self definitive.

Someone once said to me, misery is self definitive.

My parents tell me 'count your blessings'.

Another tells me to look at the silver lining.

Things don't always go your way, but certainly it is possible to make the best out of what there is.


*

I'm quite hyped for this semester to be over. The work load is insane, but I'm hyped. I know how I'd feel when I'm done with what I'm writting.

Priorities.

It's not easy to find a balance.

I think I kinda get it now.

So true.

*sigh*

Speechless.

Describes the fate of Malaysians, literally.

End of July.

August will be awesome.

The rarity.

There a time in a significant moment of youth, like a sort of coming of age, when people part, and one suddenly feels a sense of loss looking back at the old times spent together. Paths that cross part one by one, sharing only one thing in common that is the time of passing. It becomes harder to let go, harder to move on. The only reason is because people like this are rare.

When you lose their physical presence, one can only wonder what sort of lives they're currently living. When calls suddenly aren't enough. When your life takes a crucial turn, such loss you feel the people who was there weren't anymore. That you want these people to live through the significant moments of your life, which in turn you also hope to live in theirs.

These people are rare.

I can only wonder what I've missed in theirs. Does it feel the same for them?