Monday, January 09, 2006


Been MIA for quite some time, but am alive and healthy (though not for too long - am already starting to feel the back to school bug :( And after 3 long weeks of holidays, too!)

During the holidays, I have:

1) Come to realise that my priorities, regarding school, may have been flipped. Following the most disastrous semester exam I have ever taken, I cared less about Math, and started to have nightmares about French. So far, there have been two, one involving... well, me failing the French exam (though I know otherwise, the exam was so easy)... and another involving me trying to communicate with a french-speaking alien. Ahah, my dreams are becoming stranger and stranger. Note: possible correlation with behavior.

2) Sorted through my things and actually cleaned my closet. Which is a major accomplishment for me, because my closet now looks like it's owned by a human... unlike before.

3) Got online. Yay.

4) Had family come in from California and Penang, so we spent much time together. Involved much squashing into cars and alcohol-consumption.

5) Never touched my textbooks until I absolutely necessarily had to. Which was the day before school started aka yesterday. I have never been so... non-geeky.

6) Went out with friends, which I hadn't had time to do during/right before exams. We went to Megamall and for once were actually normal (read:forgot all about school and enjoyed ourselves.) And what better way to celebrate the holidays than not being alone (or with immediate family, which sometimes may be worse...)?

7) SLEPT. Sleep-lackage while school was in session and so successfully caught up on sleep by often sleeping in till pm.

The holidays were great. And so I dread going back to school because then the awesomeness of the holidays have to end.

Monday, August 22, 2005

The beginning of a crazy school year was a month ago

Erm. I disappeared. Oops. School. Blah.

My first thought these mornings: Just a few more... hours.
My last thought these nights: Just one more year.

And then Russia, I hope. Moscow Medical Academy. My cousin's studying there, and likes it. Most of my classmates are going to Canada/UK. Ahh, need money la. How to go there if not rich?

I cut my hair at the beginning of the year. People noticed.

Goal to achieve this year: Not to look so strange in the yearbook. This year will be the worst (is a half-page photo REALLY necessary?)

Marketing and Media means we (a group of four) are helping the Parents Association organise the school Cancer Awareness Week and Madeleine Children's Fund (MCF). It's actually not too bad. The downside is that I have to spend more hours at school to put up posters and yellow ribbons.

New Chem teacher means strictness and lots of hard work, but fun in experiments as well. We played with matches and Bunsen burners and blue Copper(II) sulfate hydrate.

Different Bio teacher means little quizes almost every lesson and an online disection of a frog next class.

New principle: scary. Strict. Looks like Dan from One Tree Hill.

Am: Almost-insane. The end of last year had three of us skipping classes and sneaking out of campus and worrying about a blurry/unclear phone call from a friend at school but was actually about buying food from the McDonalds down in Mont'Kiara Plaza.

Will: Go insane by the end of the year from all the pressure of IB mocks and exams and colleges and decisions, etc. Especially English. Everyone's got a breaking point. According to my english teacher, at least one in each class will break down during the oral examinations, which is a 12-minute commentary with only 20-minutes of preparation. What did I do to deserve this? My present self is kicking my stupid past self for choosing to take IB English.

We used to have monkeys in the school, but they've cut down the forest behind the school. Some monkeys have disappeared, others have migrated to the courtyard. This means I see more monkeys during lunch. The one time I sat IN the courtyard this year, there was a monkey in the tree above me. Eeh. According to the school newsletter, students have been teasing the monkeys :/

Oh well. It's my last year. I didn't expect an easy ride, anyway.

Friday, July 15, 2005

I'm in such a strange mood tonight.

the bug
needed a hug.
He searched high,
he searched low,
and eventually fell into a mug.
Poor Thug.

It's actually got a deeper message. Searching for a hug could get'cha killed. Yay.

I'm in such a strange mood tonight. More sugar, anyone?

(My word count is below 100, for once! Heh. The word-limit idea is from Torment, and I'm feeling more inarticulate than usual, so I'll stop now.)

Hi? Hi. That was a pointless convo. Very. I'm talking to myself here. Shaddup.

My muse is vicious. I like to think of my muse as a she. I think she suffers of constant PMS. Whoever said muses are a joy has never met my muse. She is a sadist and pounds me till all of my essence is laid bare on the page.

I still don't feel like writing about the Salem Hysteria. The Crucible is an amazing novel - no, play. Play play play. Novel/play. It is amazing. But because I'd read it, I don't feel like writing about the hysteria. Before, I'd thought of the Salem Witch Trials as a mere historical event. Y'know, it happened, it's past, it hadn't even taken place in or affected Malaysia so why feel down about it? Now, however... after reading the novel/play, it's... I'm not terribly articulate nor particularly eloquent, and I realise that, so I don't know exactly how to describe what I'm feeling, but... well, summed up, I feel more down and depressed about it than just 'oh, it happened'. Probably because I realise that innocents were hung and weren't even given a chance. Court meant confess or hang, and both options weren't terribly appealing. And to think, it might have been avoided if not for a bunch of teen girls who accused others because they thought it 'sport'. Bleh.

Hey, I wrote about it. Sorta.

Well, I'm going to go cut me hair today. Can't stand long hair, because of the weather. Wish me luck? It's gonna go short on me and I'm slightly nervous because I'm trying a new hairdresser.

I got a phone call from my ex-nextdoorneighbour earlier today. We're around the same age, used to go to the same school, and even went there together. We were really, really close. We used to climb over the fence to visit each other every day. The fun ended when she moved away, but we still kept in touch.

I must say, though, that our convo today was the most pointless phone conversation ever.

Me: Hi.
She: Hi.

*long pause*

She: How are you?
Me: I'm fine, how are you?
She: Fine too.

*very long pause*

Me: I don't know what to say.
She: Me too.

*VERY long pause*

She: I have to go.
Me: Me too.

Yeah. It kinda deteriorated from the very beginning. Sizzled before it even properly began. We were once best friends and now have nothing to say to each other. It's disheartening, really.

Where art thou, Mr Sandman?

It is 12:30 AM right now.

I haven't slept a wink. I'm wide, wide awake.

It bothers me, because I really should sleep.

I can't, though.

Researching is not fun, when it's got to do with the Salem Witch Trials. Writing about the Salem Hysteria is painful, bloody work. I feel the need to capitalise those words. It's probably not right.

19 hung. 1 tortured. 5 died in jail. I have to write. More. More. It started only because a bunch of teens and pre-teens thought it decent 'sport' to accuse innocent locals of witchcraft. Decent sport. More. More. My stomach feels like a washing machine, and it isn't even that time of the month. I'm only feeling like this because I'm tired, right? I can't write this now. Perhaps this is why I've been procrastinating so much.

If this persists tomorrow, I'm done for. Note: Panadol might help.

I'm carefully poking the letters on my keyboard and wincing at every loud click or boosh or beep.

Goal: Contact Mr. Sandman.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

And I realise I'm lucky because I have nothing to do

I was really, really, really bored today, with nothing to do. Besides homework, but I've been procrastinating, and I can leave it for a day or two more, right? Besides, it's not due till a month. So I got on MSN, which I hardly ever do because... well, I don't know, but I hardly come online, and a close friend of mine was online. Yay. Someone to talk to. So we started talking, and I realised how lucky I am that I don't have much to do during the holidays.

Here goes part of our conversation. She's fate and I'm llama:

do I believe in fate? says:
can u?
do I believe in fate? says:
these r seriously busy days
do I believe in fate? says:
I barely have time to eat
do I believe in fate? says:
so much! seriously am dying
do I believe in fate? says:
like... everyday, i got to get up round 6 to get to the stable, getting a ride with this guy, who btw also expects me to spend time with him and who also brought back an argentinian guy who doesnt speak a word of english whom im supposed act as a guide and translator for
do I believe in fate? says:
which is stressful considering that everyday I havw to ride, work at the stable, exercise, eat lunch, find time for breakfast which I often don’t eat cuz I have no time with riding and all... and i swear my trainer has gone crazy and thinks I am superwoman or smthing...
Here's a llama there's a llama says:
Aah sounds like you have it even worse now than you did during school
do I believe in fate? says: housework, buy groceries, arrange for the future of my horse, do schoolwork, cook dinner for the family, either go back to the stable in the afternoon, which is at bukit kiara equestrian by the way and isnot tht near to my condo, or go out with friends... plus many of my friends are leaving so i have to spend sum time with them too before I don't get to see them again...
do I believe in fate? says:
do I believe in fate? says:
oh, and on top of that, cuz the argentinian guy and this other guy is here, i have to go clubbing with them, and then Im also trying to club a bit with my other friends and that means about 3 hours sleep a night
do I believe in fate? says:
and I hate you for nt coming to bangsar that day...
Here's a llama there's a llama says:
stop working so hard, hehe. i should be doing my summer homework and i havent even started. i finished reading the crucible though.
Here's a llama there's a llama says:
actually, maybe you /should/ work... work lots... makes me feel better cuz i have nothing to do
do I believe in fate? says:
am gonna smack you when I see you, you know that right

By the way, don't put durian in the fridge, unless you want everything durian-flavoured. Had a drink of durian-ribena earlier. While it had an interesting taste, it wasn't what I was going for. Heh.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Pictures We Drew

Your tree is crooked. No it's not. Yes it is. Do you want my ruler? No, it's fine. But it's crooked. It's better than yours. It's ugly. Yours is. I'm talking about your tree. I'm talking about yours. Let me show you-- NO. It's mine. Fine. Don't let me fix it, then. I won't. I was only trying to help. It's my painting. It's not your paints. Not yours too. Mommy gave them to me. Only because you started crying. I can use them too. Not if I tell her you're being mean to me. I'll tell her first. She won't believe you. She will. I'm older than you. So? So? So?

I remember when I was younger. Nothing was wrong with pink grass. Nothing was wrong with slanted houses. Nothing was wrong with painting my whole picture black or red because they were just pretty colours and didn't represent anything. Teachers asked. Parents asked. Why black? Why red? Why not? Paint her eyes red and her heart black and it was fine they were just colours.

Oh. Don't use those colours. They're wrong. Are you sad? Why is her heart black? Why? Why? Why not? Come, let me show you the right colours. Why? Why? Don't do it that way again, it's wrong. Give me your brush. You can't do it that way but you're supposed to be creative unique art is good and limitations restrictions don't do it that way I'm not a hypocrite. Why? Why? Just don't.

Your sky is the wrong colour. Who says? It's purple. It's my drawing. So? So? So?

I died. (Not really.)

Don't you just hate it when great dreams turn into nightmares? Ugh. It was all happy until someone decided to come kill me. Buuut, as always, I woke up before I actually died. Hooray.

This post is shooort. I don't know what to write about. And it's very late. And nothing much made me think.

But, I did go out today. Went to Mantin with my family, there were prayers for my cousin Jesslyn. Her first birthday. Her name is actually really, really, really similar to mine when said out loud. Hehe. So, yeah. On the way to Mantin, we saw this car on FIRE. The whole car was enveloped in flames. It was so cool. Not too cool for the owners, I suppose. It was all the way on the side, so they must've got out in time.

Nothing much happened besides prayers. I got well-water splashed on me, and that was interesting. Never seen a well before, and it was so deep. And narrow. The water looked black. Hm. We headed home in the early evening, and the air was so bad, towards Selangor. Saw some trees on fire, and was shocked. It was just after it rained, too. Good thing the fire was small, but still. Bleh. It was so hazy.

Bummed out about dying.

Friday, July 08, 2005

Kids say the darndest things

I've finally took the time to do the Links sidebar, as I was tired of losing the URLs to certain peoples blogs. It's always under construction, and if anyone wants to be added, just say so. Really.

"Kids say the darndest things," or so I've heard. You've watched that TV show, right? It's the one where Bill Cosby asks a bunch of kids these questions and they manage to come up with some of the funniest, oddest, and sometimes slightly inspirational answers. I hadn't had much experience with kids besides the occasional visit to my nephews and nieces, and they certainly hadn't said anything of the sort. And so I was convinced that those shows were staged, that children could by no means come up with those stuff by their own.

I couldn't have been more wrong. And I realised that the greatest things ever said could come from the mouth of even a nine year old.

I used to take Psychology last year, and it was one of the subjects I actually liked. I hadn't actually chosen to take the subject out of interest; I thought that it may fit well with two of my other subjects, Biology and Chemistry, as I planned to go into Science some time in the future. But, looking back, I'm glad I'd chosen to take Psychology, as the class was always interesting. Despite the teacher being somewhat of a loony, it was great. Perhaps it was because she was slightly odd that the students were always awake.

We used to do all these experiments, both in and out of class - of school, in fact. We did them alone, in twos, in threes, anywhere even remotely interesting (that doesn‘t sound wrong, does it?). But no one told me that the most rewarding, the most remarkable experiment would be not down by the main road watching if people sidestepped or walked right over that one large drain, but in a third grade class, full of nine year olds.

We were to analyse children’s drawings. I went down to the class not expecting much at all - after all, they were only nine year olds, and couldn’t be that interesting, right? So I set about with the experiment. Gave them sheets of paper to draw on, read the instructions, and waited till they were all done. I was bored while I waited for them to finish their drawings, and I think the teacher could tell, because she promptly asked the class a question: if you were stranded on an island and could bring only one person, who would you bring?

That got me thinking. I’d bring a friend, I thought, so I wouldn’t end up being so bored. The children answered. Lots of them said they’d bring their mother, a couple said they’d bring their friends, and I didn’t think anything of their answers until a boy said that he wouldn’t bring anyone. Sufficient to say, that surprised me - usually, kids wouldn’t like to be all alone.

The teacher asked him a couple of questions. Wouldn’t you be afraid? Don’t you want to bring your parents? How about a friend? And all the while, the boy shook his head, and muttered a short and simple “no,” as if he wouldn’t mind being all alone.

The teacher asked him why, and I was shocked - and definitely touched - by his answer. The boy, only nine years old and in the third grade, replied with words that extended even beyond my grasp. “Because I don’t want anybody’s family to worry,” he said. I wouldn’t even have thought about it that way, if it wasn’t for the boy. I felt bad. Selfish. Shocked that I was so selfish. And I felt this strange pride for the boy, even though I barely knew him.

Then I knew: kids do sometimes say the greatest things, and there’s no doubting that. I only wish I could’ve gone back and gave that kid a hug.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Starbucks, relaxing, and endless talking

There's something about listening to songs while writing.

I went out yesteday. Got up at six thirty AM, got dressed, caught a taxi and met up with a friend at seven thirty or so. After spending a while in her condo joking around and waiting for her to get dressed, we headed to the Starbucks just down the street in Plaza Mont'Kiara. She bought me a drink, and we chit-chatted about things, little and large, trivial and important. It was nice. Relaxing. I was more relaxed than when I'd stayed home all day and did absolutely nothing. It was nice out, especially since it was morning. Sky was bright blue, hardly any clouds, people all in a hurry, and we were leisurely sitting there and talking. Not in a hurry at all.

We used to do this during those days at the end of the semester, when we were allowed out of school between exams. Everyone else did last minute studying, while we headed to McDonalds, ate, and talked. We sneaked out of school during the last week, after exams had ended. It was the second to last day of school, while the others were watching some old movie, and I remember how we'd gotten caught by the guards but lied our way out of trouble. We used to just sit and talk and joke and tease and it was all fine and fun and more entertaining than any movie could be.

We talked about how we only had one year left at school. She teased me about how I was one of the youngest in our year and that I'd have the most trouble sneaking into clubs, and I teased her about being a ditz and her losing her card to her condo, that she'd have to squeeze through the bars of the gates yet again. She said I'd make the perfect teacher, that I'd frighten the kids into silence. She said she wanted to be a lawyer; I told her that that would be the ideal job for her, because she's always arguing. We have this odd relationship... we always tease each other, but really, we love each other. At least, I do.

We avoided the sad topics. About how we'd most probably not be able to see each other again after our last year ends, next June. We knew we wouldn't even be studying in the same country. She's not Malaysian; she's planning to study in Britain, and nowhere else. I'm Malaysian, but I won't be able to study in Malaysia, so I have this plan to migrate to Canada and study and have fun/party. She'll attend Oxford, she says, and will become a lawyer, and when I get into a load of trouble I could call her and we'd be this ass-kicking duo. Of course, I didn't fail to mention that she'd be the one getting into trouble instead of innocent me. We talked about moving, but didn't mention not seeing each other again. That didn't mean that we didn't think about that topic, though. I knew, she knew. The thought hung thick: we won't be able to do this again, and you know that. But to the both of us it seemed that, I think, if we didn't mention it, it wouldn't become concrete, solid. It was as if saying such a thought would turn it from a 'most probably' to 'inevitably'.

I told her that she wouldn't be able to live right across from school again. She told me that I wouldn't be able to eat all my favourite foods again. We continued to joke, to tease, talked about how cold it was in Starbucks and about her wanting to go to Bangsar that night and about everything and nothing and anything that popped to mind. Everything happy, anything but sad topics. Silence was rare, silence was golden, silence said everything we didn't say to each other. I'm not going to see you again after this year and so silence was to be avoided.

Some time later, we left. Talked. Wandered about. Talked. And all the while we avoided the topic that manifested itself in our silence. But we had to talk, avoid the silence, and we won't be able to do this again, and you know that.