I practically couldn't believe my eyes when I saw "The Perks of Being A Wallflower" lying there on the display table. Having read so many beautiful quotes extracted from it in tumblr posts, it felt like the perfect book for me. It seemed to me as if every line in the book was pretty much quotable.

I just had to grab it.

Then, my eyes widened too when I saw "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundera nearby, on the same table. Fuck! These two books have been in my to-read list for quite some time now. The reaction I could muster to see them lying close by on one table was like... "Whoa." Cue grabby hands again.

I had came with the intention to purchase a particular book, cos I had a newspaper voucher with 25% discount for it. But when I realised that there was only the hardcover version of it in store, the price served as a discouragement to buy; cue dampening of mood.

So I was holding the book, still contemplating whether to buy it or not... while browsing through the shelves. Ruefully, I was faced with the reality once more that damn, books really aren't cheap here. Plus, it's kinda hard to justify buying a pretty thin one for a price higher than the average sized novel's. Yes, I judge a book also by its thickness wtf. The math simply is fewer pages = less material = lower price wtf. It's not really fair to thin books that are actually really good reads I admit, but one does not simply (Boromir meme, anyone? No?) ignore simple maths entrenched by the teachings of Asian parents wtf.

I came pretty close to walking out empty handed when finally, FINALLY I came across those two. In the end, I walked out with five books heh.

Money could buy happiness after all, if spent on the right things. It felt great to hug the paper bag containing my five new nicely wrapped books. Ah, the joy of new reads.

I guess what I'm trying to say after everything above is - deep down, I'm just a socially awkward, contemplative bookworm after all eh.

**

Reading and me, have had quite a relationship. I'm not really one to keep in touch, but when I have the time and initiative, I find myself falling in love all over again. It is a love that I would never want to part with.

Previously, I was reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude"and man, did it seem like one needed precisely one hundred years of solitude to finish it. It was not that it was badly written, in fact when one started to get into it, the beauty of the prose and meticulousness in which the characters were developed and described were hard to go unnoticed. But oh God, the names first of all were so confusing cos everyone pretty much had the same few names wtf, generations on. If it weren't for the family tree drawn on one of the pages in front, it would have been so easy to get frustrated and chuck the book aside.

Despite all the name confusion, and quite frankly disgust at the incestuous vein pulsing through the family... and wonderment as to how long it'll finally take me to finish the book, once I got through to the end, it was all fucking worth it. GGM managed to tie it all up so magnificently, it was just Wow. The last sentence just reverberated through the whole story, the whole family tree, the whole reading experience, and you realised there was no title more apt than the one craftily chosen.

That's just it. Reading can be such a marvelous experience... how can one not fall in love with it?

Late night musings

I don't know what to tell you, man. We live in a stupid, incredibly fucked up world with immensely stupid people. I know that there are truly decent, kind human beings out there, but that's just so hard to believe when day by day you look around and see or read about all the bigotry, the greed, the idiocy, the injustice, the douchebaggery etc that goes on around the world.

Seriously, what are we? Why the fuck are we being such a cancer? Destroying everything in its path, ruthlessly and blindly disruptive, power crazy, prejudicial, discriminatory.

It's even harder when you witness such bigotry in your own home, such discrimination in your own family members' eyes. Like, why should homosexuality bother anyone at all? Why does it concern you who others are attracted to and have sex with? It's not as if they're purposely and actively disrupting your lives or anything? Are they not human beings, like you and me? Why are you so intent on viewing them as lesser beings? As "abnormal"? Stating that the world has turned upside down, when I'm willing to bet that homosexuality has existed as long as there were life on Earth.

Why can't people understand that people do not simply CHOOSE to be homosexuals, it's who they are. Seriously, if they had a choice, you think they'd have chosen a life laced with prejudice and unfair judgments? I don't know why some people can be highly educated, yet capable of such bigotry at the same time.

I feel so bad for those who were bullied or unfairly treated just because of who they were. This, is the world we live in. So unforgiving and non accepting. Sad, but true.

Think about it, if you found out that your child was gay, would you love him/her less? If you would, you truly do not deserve to be a parent. You shouldn't have brought your child into the world in the first place, if you yourself were not capable of love.

**

Day in day out, you see these people, acting out of greed - for money, for power. It happens all the time, critters screwing their own countrymen, letting the people suffer in poverty while they themselves drown in luxury. I don't know how they can do it, the act of knowingly and continuously screwing everyone else over, for their own monetary benefit. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THEM?

There's just so much injustice that goes on in this world, it fucking hurts. The only solution seems to be to nuke out the entire human race, cos as long as there are humans around, unfortunately there will also be stupidity and greed. Disillusionment? More like accepting reality.

**

Don't you think that living just for money is the saddest thing ever? That is, you're just obsessed with monetizing EVERYTHING. Every possible thing. To accumulate and grow your fucking wealth. Your wealth, that you will eventually have to part with when you're six feet under. I get that you were poor when you were young, but now that you're not, can't you let the past go? Is there no other things that you'd wanna achieve in life?

I'm beginning to think that happiness is just an illusion. It doesn't exist, and those who think they're happy are either delusional or have their emotions all mixed up.

It was concocted to serve as an unattainable goal so that people would be clamouring or running their whole lives towards the imaginary destination.

The feeling being mistaken for happiness would most probably be liberation. If you can't be happy, you might as well be free.

Freedom is as good as it gets.

"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion." - Albert Camus

Quandary

I've just watched Julie & Julia, and true enough, blogging is probably one of the most narcissistic endeavour one could partake in.

But that's not what I wanted to get into. I just wanted to sorta prepare you for yet another self-absorbed post.

Let's begin. Why do I seem to have the oldest soul ever? I always feel like I'm too old for shit, I'm jaded as fuck, I have practically no 'young person drive' (whatever that's supposed to mean) in me.

And I now basically seek comfort over everything else. For example, I'm heading to Oz for my graduation ceremony next month, and I was tempted to book a hotel to stay in. A hotel. That's such a ridiculous idea because it'd be so freaking expensive. Something like AUD 2+ k for 6 nights. Imagine that! One could travel to India for 2 weeks with that money alone wtf. So no, no hotel... just a possibly cramped hostel with noisy customers and faulty electronics. Even that wouldn't be that cheap either. Given that, why would anyone want to travel to Oz, I would never know. It's expensive, it's boring, it's culturally blah. But I digress.

But oh... Imagine what it would be like if we got to stay in a hotel. Clean sheets (as far as the eyes can see anyway), clean bathroom and toilet, spacious room, comfortable environment... just, ahhhhhh... and then I start lamenting how long ago was it that I stayed in a hotel wtf. Just like an old person. Y'know? All these lamenting and reminiscing, makes me feel so goddamn old, like I've lived a hundred years and my best years have gone by. Which is so unfucking true.

I'm at an age very suitable for roughing it out, but all I wanna do is sleep in comfort at night, cos goddamnit a good night's sleep is so fucking important to not feeling like crap the next day. This kinda poses a dilemma... I'm all for minimalism and decluttering one's life and spending less, but this kinda entails one to rough it out. To be clear, I'm talking about minimalism in the sense of being able to fit all your belongings in a backpack and to just take off and pursue a nomadic lifestyle anytime. It's about keeping it to the absolute basics. And quite possibly having to relieve oneself in the bushes once in awhile wtf.

Yet, being an advocate of comfort goes against this notion of living off one's backpack. Living in hostels, couch surfing, being constantly on guard... plus comfort requires stuff. Paying for services and buying stuff etc. Fluffy stuff, hard stuff, whichever you prefer. But once again, being against excessive consumerism leaves me in a quandary. Ain't life just a bunch of endless contradictions.

To sum it up, I'm all for comfort but I'm also all for minimalism and against excessive consumerism. These do not exactly go together.

One could always argue that you can be comfortable while being a minimalist. Sure, it's not impossible. But I suppose you'd have to tweak a little your perception of what comfort is. Like, you'd have to accept peeing or taking a dump in the bushes as being perfectly comfortable. OK, maybe not to that extent. But what I'm trying to say is you'd just have to let go of a lot of things. A lot of little things that you take for granted in your daily life. And I suppose that's what it's all about, right? Learning how to let go. One of the hardest things to do, just take me for instance, you'd miss the comfort of hotels sometimes.

And, I guess one could also argue that nuns and monks live with basics while not having to compromise on comfort. Again, they've learnt to let go of material and worldly desires, thus their idea of comfort would probably differ from yours.

What the heck, I just wanted to talk about how I have the oldest soul ever, how did I end up talking about minimalism and all sorts of stuff?

I've gotta admit, I'm in a pretty bad slump right now. It sorta started with the deterioration of my health a la dizziness and headaches, which kinda stopped me from exercising and I guess everything else just derailed from there. Apparently the wind/poison from before wasn't cleared from my body, causing all the discomfort. And after drinking the Chinese doctor's medicine and herbal drinks, I think there're still some inside, just taunting me like some merciless jackass. Just some moments ago, I was having a headache and had to rely on Panadol once again for the pain to subside.

Sigh. What the fuck. It's true when you don't have your health, you ain't got shit. I would probably have to live with this condition for fuck-knows-how-long, meaning I'd probably be the face of the demotivated for fuck-knows-how-long. I know I should start exercising again, I know I should do something to get myself out of this rut, I know that only I can help myself. You see I know all these, but goddamn it's so fucking hard to get yourself to do anything when you constantly feel like a piece of shit!

One thought has been consistently popping up everyday during this period of non-living. "When can I die?" Actually it's in Cantonese... "Gei si sei dak ar?" Pathetic, I know. It's not even like I'm devising ways to hurt myself, it's more like I'm just hoping that I'll drop dead any second wtf. I've lost the will to live and I'm not even motivated enough to end my own life wtfff. I didn't realise how ridiculous that sounded till I actually typed it out wtf.

I sent a CNY card to my friend and in it I wrote these exact words, "Without hope, dreams or beliefs, life wouldn't be worth living! So don't stop dreaming!" I've no idea what's the dream now. How do you rediscover your dreams? Your hopes? That burning passion in your heart? No matter how stupid or dumb they may have been?

Sigh. It's OK. I'm pretty sure that this too will pass. Someday.

Have you ever wondered how the lives of the people around you would've been different if you never existed?

Wouldn't it be awesome if we actually had the option of seeing what would that be like? You know, like if we had a vivid dream about it or something with the aid of some magical cosmic power.

Personally, I don't think my family's or friends' lives would've been much affected by my non-existence. Seriously, prove me wrong, universe wtf.

Some days I just wonder what it would be like to be dead. Am not exactly suicidal, but just the casual wonderment of hmm what if I disappeared, Amelia Earhart style?

***

Ok I realise that anyone would be sick of reading all these fucking words without any photos at all wtf... fine I'll post photos from India, when I'm not feeling like a piece of shit wtf. All in due time...

India '11

I realised I haven’t even written about my two-week trip to India last December...

Throughout the trip, my mum repeated that India could be described in just three words: messy, noisy and dirty. Truth is, India is all those, and so much more. One could easily overlook the notable air pollution during the first few days of arrival, as frankly I was pretty fascinated just to be there. Plus, I reasoned that the dusty air gave the place a beautiful dusky quality, when even sunsets were exceptionally powdery and pastel.

I’m sure anyone who’ve been to or ever contemplated heading to India has heard the horror stories about being conned, being pestered by relentless vendors and beggars, and/or contracting diarrhoea. What can I say, those are all part of the experience. On my first day itself in front of India Gate, I had my first quintessential India experience. Ignoring my (much too) polite refusals to get a henna tattoo, this merciless woman grabbed my hand and proceeded to draw one anyway. Judging by her strength and steely determination, I’m guessing she does this manoeuvre a lot and has the means to buy lots of chapati. Sure enough I was left in a bit of a shock after that encounter but hey, it was only the first day and no excessively grabby Indian lady was going to dampen my spirits!

The thing is, especially in the touristy areas, after some time you realise you can never be sure whether the locals are really being friendly or are just trying to get you to buy something at a jacked-up price. At the same time you also realise that that’s just how they do business, how they earn the money to support their family, and you really shouldn’t take it personally. But man, patience does have its limits. Mine was seriously tested at Fatehpur Sikri, where persistent locals were swarming around foreigners like flies, trying to offer guide services or sell some sort of thingamajig that I couldn’t care for anymore. This was during the second half of the trip, so honestly my initial fascination had waned and the culminated frustration after over one week of aggressive peddling left me a very, very grumpy person. I am not proud of this at all, but I even grudgingly refused at first when my brother came to me for Rs2 (~ RM 0.13) to give to a blind beggar up the stairs leading to Jama Masjid.

That is not to say that touring India would leave you totally heartless and jaded. We did meet many genuinely friendly and curious people along the trip. Some requested to have their photos taken with us, many enquired about our country of origin, and many offered amiable smiles and greetings. One thing to note is that NO ONE got it right when they tried to guess where we came from. The closest we got was Singapore. We sure had a lot of Koreas, Japans, Chinas and Thailands. Which only serves to say that Malaysians travelling to India are few and far between. Malaysians, where you at? Or more specifically, Malaysian Chinese, where you at??

I’ve got to admit that we did not see many Asian tourists the whole trip, barring a few Chinese tour groups. Most of the foreigners there were Caucasian, because damn do they love India. It’s most probably due to the exotic factor and the fact that India is such a different place from their home, be it Europe, America, Australia or New Zealand. And isn’t that the point of touring after all? To head somewhere different and to experience new things and immerse yourself in different cultures?

One would think that the highlight of the trip would have been the Taj Mahal. Ah the Taj… one of the wonders of the world, a UNESCO World Heritage site, and so horrifically overcrowded at the same time. Granted, we were there on a Sunday evening, but the droves of visitors and lack of maintenance of the reflective side pools left us a little, if not sorely, disappointed. My mum agreed that when she visited 8 years earlier it was still an impressive sight, and now it seemed kind of lacklustre. All the forts, temples, and mausoleums we visited the week before might also have had something to do with our disappointment. After some point in time, they do tend to look the same. But I would still highly recommend a trip to Mehrangarh Fort in Jodhpur, the fort that all three of us favoured for most beautiful among those we visited. So if anyone wants to be awed by the Taj, it’s probably better that you visit it earlier in your trip, and on a weekday.

So that begs the question, what was the highlight of our trip? Two words: camel safari. No, it’s not actually a safari where you sit in a jeep and ogle at humpy camels along the way. Oh no. You ride on camels, to somewhere in the desert and spend the night under the stars. You also have the option of spending more than one night, or not spending the night at all. That’s a real oversimplified explanation there, but you get the gist.

I could practically hear the giddy excitement in my brother’s voice as the camels that we climbed onto stood up. That was the happiest I’ve seen my brother so far in the trip. To be honest, for the first few minutes I was more than a little terrified of falling down. I have never ridden any animals before, so it surely was interesting to have given my first time to a camel *ahem*. Camel rides are bumpy, very bumpy, but you’ll get used to it (as if you have a choice).

After an hour plus of camel riding, we finally arrived at our site for the night in the Thar Desert. Other than our guides, there were just six of us. It’s hard to describe how being in the desert felt like. Being isolated like that, you just feel as if you were transported to another timeline. Standing atop a sand dune, it was as though I could hear sounds from a thousand miles away, sounds that arrived unobstructed and unfiltered. The desert felt like a place of ancient ruins and mystic charm, a world of difference from the hustle and bustle in the streets of India.

The moon shone so bright that night, there was no need for any artificial lighting at all. As we formed a circle around the fire during dinnertime, Mr Desert of Sahara Travels regaled us with his life story, a heart-warming tale of success and contentment. We chatted on after Mr Desert left, got to know each other a little more and exchanged travel tales. That night I experienced another first, as that was my first time sleeping under the night sky. It was oh-so-cold, but still oh-so-amazing.

For that experience alone, the trip was probably worth it. Yet the trip was made up of so many interesting bits and pieces. It’d be no mean feat to encompass every detail in one writing. If you’re getting tired of the typical shopping and eating vacations, why not try India? India is truly a place that you should experience yourself, if not just to be shamelessly asked for tips at the toilet for just opening the door! (True story)

Isn't it funny how...

when you're in an unfamiliar place, you have all these fresh thoughts in your head, ideas, aspirations, and new hopes. Roads open up and there are more possibilities than ever. In short, the world seems like your oyster.

But when you get back, despite all the life altering experiences you've been through, no matter how much your mindset have actually changed, when you return to familiar surroundings and hang out with old friends, you regress back to your old self anyway?

It's just too easy to slip back into old habits and old perspectives. The comfort zone's siren song might just be too hard to resist. No wonder people ask, "can people really change?". Is change only possible when you uproot yourself to another place, establish different ties and literally start a new life?

Perhaps change is only possible in a new environment, where there are no elements to lure you back into your old ways. The contrary is possibly true, but that would surely require you to claw your way out of your rut, with rivulets of perspiration streaming down your pasty half-dead face.

Fuck this shit there's just this simmering frustration inside of me that I can't seem to get rid of, even though I already sweated it out with cardio just now.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

I'm starting to sound like a teenager and I don't like it!

Calm down, deep breaths, stand your ground.

Shit this might be PMS kicking in. The fuck? So fast?

Sonofabitch! I'm 21 for fuck's sake, turning 22 this year, and I still feel like I'm being treated as a kid around here. I know for every parent their children will always be kids to them wtf, but DAYMNNN at some point you've GOT TO loosen your grip y'all!

Yeah, it's about time I changed the layout a bit.

After years of boycotting anything PINK, especially bright pink, I've gotta admit that I actually like colours and am not all black and dark. The refusal to buy or associate myself with anything pink stemmed from the feeling of being brainwashed into liking that colour. It was like my mom's favourite colour, not mine. She was the one who bought me pink clothes, cos duh a girl surely likes pink right. So now, after years of that subtle, unconscious brainwashing, I'm like "eww pink, DISGUSTING."

Despite that revulsion, I find myself actually drawn to pastel colours. Even pastel pink. It's bright, tacky pink that I would not wear / touch with a ten foot pole. What is it about pastel colours that makes a girl go all fluttery inside wtf? I guess there is still a girly girl inside me wtf.

Speaking about brainwashing, I've mentioned over here before how my dad's shoving his passion in everyone's faces have left me practically repulsed at the idea of pursuing it. This is something that I've learnt about myself over the years. If there's anything that I know about myself, it's that the more you ask me to do something, the more I'm inclined NOT to do it wtf. (That being said, reverse psychology could probably work on me... tell me not to do something and I'll do it wtf.)

Is it cos I'm a rebel? I think it's more... being fed up of listening to people telling me what to do. Sick of being a spineless pushover. And that's how I've developed this reflex of shutting the noise out when being told what I should do, or what I'm supposed to do.

I would just like to ask, why the fuck should anyone live one's life according to anyone else's dictation?

I stand by the principle that, unless you're hurting anyone else, unless you're bringing any sort of harm to others, just do whatever the fuck you want. Develop your own intellectual thoughts, your own moral principles, your own interests and preferences.

IT'S YOUR FUCKING LIFE SO DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU OTHERWISE!

Shit! I just gave myself a pep talk wtf.

Foster the People Live in Kuala Lumpur!

A sign of an awesome concert: You, sitting desolate, not knowing what to do with yourself after.

Seriously it's like what the hell am I supposed to look forward to now??

If you don't know who I'm talking about...

FOSTER THE PEOPLE WAS FUCKIN' AMAZING!!!

Ok let me start from the beginning. I only found out about the concert ONE WEEK before wtf mostly due to me travelling most of November and December last year. And it was purely by chance that I made the discovery, cos if I didn't visit Junk's website that day, I seriously would've had no idea and my life would not have been graced by the presence of Foster the People, in front of me, performing oh-so-awesomely. Their concert would've ended without me even knowing about it in the first place - OH GOD the HORROR. Therefore, I thank my lucky stars that I did find out, and that I did manage to get a ticket despite purchasing one fairly late. Although I gotta admit I was kinda pissed that I found out so late.

So. I was getting so excited today (or rather, it was yesterday already T.T) I was actually nervous wtf as if I was going on a blind date or something. Serious shit I can't remember feeling so excited for something EVER. Not even MCR cos before their concert I wasn't actually a diehard fan and frankly didn't know what to expect cos it was my first concert (Gosh my first).

By the time I got into my friend's car I was giggling shitless like some comical baboon. Excited as ever.

When I got to KL Convention Centre, HOLY SHIT such a long queue was already snaking out the door. I was like WTF what time did these people get here!!! So I went to the front hoping that the long ass queue was actually for another zone instead of Fanatic, but NO. Cue me walking back to the end of the line lips a-pouting and eyebrows frowned. How the fuck was I supposed to know that Fanatic Zone could accommodate so many people T_T. You know what time was that? 6pm wtf. Concert was supposed to start at 8.30pm. And to think that, my friend teased me for wanting to arrive at 5.30pm originally -____-.

I've learnt my lesson: if you wanna be in front for a freaking concert, arrive like 24 hours before WTF. Or at least, 9 hours.

Straight to after I got in at around 7 +, I was devising ways to squeeze to the very front since I was alone I thought that shouldn't be too hard right wtf. Alas, again my reasoning failed me as A) I'm not petite, B) I'm not really a thick-skinned-squeeze-to-the-front-regardless-of-shit-people-gives-you type of person. And as I witnessed a string of like 3 - 4 people navigate their way to the front only to come back out again, I assumed people gave them too much shit for them to stand wtf. So I was stuck in the middle, few rows from the stage.

They came on a little later after 8.30pm, and the crowd went BALLISTIC. For the first couple of songs, the whole crowd in front (don't know bout the back) was like a giant mochi ball, stuck together and swayed left and right with all the pushing going on. I didn't mind that much, as long as I was still actually able to stand wtf. But yeah at some point things got kinda breathless, literally squished out of breath. The crowd was absolutely crazy, and that's an understatement.

Couple of songs in and already I was sweating like a mofo. Don't think I sweat like that even when I exercise wtf. I think I got pushed even further behind somehow, in the midst of all the mochi helplessness.

Ok my memory sucks balls, so hopefully I'm not mistaken but they started off with Miss You.* One of my favourite songs, especially the feet twisting part of the music. But as you know by now, there was no actual space to do any feet twisting wtf.

*Edit: First song was Houdini. Told you my memory sucks donkey cock.

And their somewhere around third song, was Broken Jaw. Shit, can Mark Foster sing and shout. You could just FEEL the veins popping out his neck while he was screaming towards the end of the song.

What more can I say, every song was sheer awesomeness. I was raining sweat and tired as fuck, other signs of a great concert. Waste was awesome, Warrant was awesome, Call It What You Want was awesome, Helena Beat was awesome, and so on and so on.

Plus oh my God I really didn't expect them to play Ruby! One of Mark Foster's favourite songs, but it's unreleased as yet. And it was AMAZING. I nearly choked in tears when he got to my favourite part of the song. T_T.

Too bad they didn't play Love, Chin Music for the Unsuspecting Hero or Downtown. They could've played any of these for an encore but no...

After a mind-fucking-blasting (Russell Peters reference wtf) performance of Pumped Up Kids, one with a real long intro with Foster clearly enjoying himself, they ended the night I think with Cubbie throwing his guitar picks into the crowd? Am not sure though, as I was not at that end of the stage. Sure seems like it, judging from the Youtube videos that fellow concertgoers have already very efficiently uploaded.

By the way, everyone went apeshit for Pumped Up Kids. Sang along like mofos and whatnot. After all, it was the song that propelled them to stardom. When Foster climbed on to the speaker (I think?) at the side of the stage I totally thought (and hoped) he was gonna stage dive or something but alas! He tamely climbed down afterwards haha. Would've LOVED to grope his ass while he crowd surfed heh.

When the concert ended and there was no encore, the crew started cleaning up the stage. And this was where the theatrics didn't end for the night wtf. The audience who were still around started begging for stuff to be given/thrown to us haha. Some got water bottles, some got the setlist (!!) and one got a towel, most possibly the towel that Foster used to wipe his face wtf!!! He exclaimed, "Yeah dapat peluh Mark Foster!" WTF. And when this Caucasian girl got something after some major pleading she literally dashed off excitedly. Dashed. A few people that witnessed were like whoa, the fuck? Haha.

And what did I get? Zilch. Nada. Nothing! Oh I did get a very blur photo of an autographed All Access Pass of an Event Crew guy. Sigh. Should've begged harder, longer, louder to be given SOMETHING!!! But still, it was a great night haha.

Ah. What more can I say. I got to see Mark shoulder dance, slide backwards across the stage, smile happily at us as if impressed by our energy, I got to see the cute faces of Cubbie and Poncy, got to see Isom slamming on the drums and so on.

It was truly a night worth remembering. Slotted with the MCR concert, it's another contender for one of the best nights of my life, thus far.

I'm back!!!

Happy new year everyone! I think you've all read what there is to read about welcoming the new year with open arms and hopes, so let's not get cliched shall we?

Let me ask a question... must we always be doing something?

I don't know if a gap year is just a semi-established excuse to take a long break from everything, from either studies or entering the working world. Maybe it is, and truthfully I don't really care. What kinda saddens me is that some people, most Asians in fact, have never even heard the concept of a gap year. For most of them, finishing high school meant going to university immediately after; finishing your studies meant diving straight into job interviews and securing a job. It's one stage straight to the next, unquestionably.

It was with some horror and shock that a few friends reacted to my lounging at home, and having no immediate plans to do anything. I know I sound like a big fat good-for-nothing parasite leeching off my parents' savings in search of what-exactly-who-knows, and frankly I don't give a shit. I know I'm saying I don't give a shit now, but some days I do. And those days are filled with self-loath and doubt. But that's not important.

Why is it so imperative that I get a job as soon as possible? Again, must we always be doing something? My plan is not having a plan, is that really so hard to grasp?

Unless your family needs your support, unless your situation is so dire, unless you really need the money to survive, why the rush?

So happens I'm lucky enough to be able to not rush right now, and I'm immensely grateful for that. That doesn't mean that my parents don't go all Asian on my ass though, they still mention job hunting, career establishing, thinking about the future and so on. And I know that as time passes, these mentions will only get more frequent and pushy. I don't think that they'll let me take a full-on gap year, so it only feels as if my time is slowly but surely, running out.

Anyway I digressed a little there. What I really wanted to point out was the inability of people to accept or comprehend the concept of doing nothing. I can proudly declare that doing nothing is like my forte now! I've become so good at it it's only second nature now. Shit, I fucking love doing nothing, I can't say it enough.

I LOVE DOING NOTHING AND I'M FUCKING PROUD OF IT.

So get off my business will ya?

I was hoping that this post would've been much more coherent and articulate but apparently I'm just not that good at organising my thoughts wtf. Plus it's 2am.

I have more to say but not the mental capacity to type them out nice and neat like a freshly wrapped present. So... good night I guess!

It seems as though the only time I post is when I'm procrastinating through assignments or studying for exams. WAS. Should've used was. Does that mean that there's no longer reason for me to post anymore now that studies are in the past tense? Let's hope not.

I feel obliged to begin by saying that the last post should've been followed promptly with another, to say that OMG Gnosis I had no idea that you were in fact a person, and not a spam bot as I initially thought. My bad. And I am ever so grateful that there's at least one soul out there who reads all these wtf. I hope everyone had a splendid Christmas and will have an awesome new year.

Gosh am I sounding awfully formal today? Anyway. My Christmas was, unfortunately for me, not that merry. Having just came back from India two days before, the explosive diarrhea began wtf. And I say explosive, as that first visit to the toilet (out of many visits later) was truly like the opening of floodgates.

Amidst the Xmas merriment, there I was on the toilet prodded to think of when was my physical low point of the year. After having vomited, nay, projectiled my guts into the toilet bowl on Christmas morning itself, I had my answer. Nowadays my default position in the toilet is one hand on the sink, head resting on hand, and just letting it flowww. But thankfully I am feeling much better already, partly due to some miraculous medicinal concoction by a tabib Cina. I now have some new found respect for Chinese traditional medicine.

But enough of my bowel misfortune. There's so much that I want to mentally purge here, it's almost impossible to start. As alike to a trip to the therapist's as blogging in its cathartic quality, there's no certified professional on some stuffy couch asking the right questions, nodding at opportune moments and gently encouraging you to go on. All you have is you, your own mind, and all those thoughts to organise.

That being said, it's time to end this post as I'm totally supposed to be sleeping early (failing miserably) to not worsen my condition wtf. It's kinda hard to find the space and right moment to type out your thoughts when you're in a house which is not even really meant for seven people, with eight other people (or seven and a quarter, if you follow the math of the people of Two and a Half Men).

Till the opportunity is right, I shall write again!

During the course of major procrastination again, I was looking through my old posts.

And I'm glad that even if there were so few of you guys, on a few occasions some random strangers actually stumbled upon this site and read some posts and took the time to comment. Haha. I'm proud that I managed to entertain some people, even if it's just one or two of them. So this post is dedicated to them...

Thank you :)

Random thought:

I think one of the most romantic things a guy could say to me is, "If you were a guy, I'd come out of the closet for you*..."

*I'd turn gay for you / I'd have to come to terms with the fact that I'm gay / I'd have to realise I'm gay / I'd still totally do you LOL

Now THAT'S attraction, THAT'S real feelings right there I tell you.

Don't you think so? Haha.

Holy crap, mosquitoes are back!

Mozzies,

Y U NO EXTINCT ALREADY??

But at least the mosquitoes here aren't as toxic as those back home... where in addition to being super itchy and ALIVE, the bites can last for days.

***

Yes, I did submit my essay!

Technically it was past midnight so it was submitted today wtf.

Mark my words, I will finish this essay today, sleep like a mofo and start studying tomorrow.

Deal? OK deal.

If left to my own devices, I could basically just sleep all day.

My Gawd. Just do this one last essay man. One last essay... you can do it... COME ON

GAH feel like crap.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

One, I can't seem to stop the cycle of eating then falling into food comas these days.

Two, I still haven't had my bloody period.

Three, feel like I'm stuck in this pre-menstrual state which I can tell you, doesn't feel good.

Four, I still have one more essay to do.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Personal reinvention

Personal reinvention. Does that sound like something only someone older would partake in? What about the younger generation? Is it possible for us to go on a journey of personal reinvention too?

I imagine that when people think of personal reinvention, it would entail someone who has been in a rut for years, decades even. Someone burnt out and going through the motions day by day, suddenly deciding, “Fuck this shit I’m dealing with this once and for all”.

This would basically mean youngsters would not be qualified for a personal revamp because why would someone so young need to reinvent themselves anyway? Aren’t they IN the process of inventing themselves?

People tend to forget about how they were like when they were younger, about how being on the cusp of adulthood could suck so much. Memories of drowning in the sea of all the uncertainties, the worries the anxiety fade away as the years go by. Many suppress the memory of going through depression at that point in their life.

Truth is when you’re in your twenties, you’ve had enough time to develop some sort of personality and attitude, making you somewhat set in your own ways; yet your inexperience and malleability leaves potential for change.

And that is when the personal reinvention could come in.

I, personally am looking forward to a personal reinvention by way of becoming someone… lighter. Less bogged down by my own thoughts, less self conscious, and more importantly, less subservient. I have been spoon fed and obedient for the majority of my life, and it is really time for a change.

I may be over generalizing here, but I think this is mainly a problem spawning from the Asian culture. Since young, Asian children have been taught to obey and not to question. Obeying meant respect, and respect ranked high in the Asian household curriculum.

On top of that, voicing out in my house would almost always lead to a confrontational climate in my house, thus keeping quiet was pretty much my viable option to stay sane. Years have gone by till I finally realized how much I actually owe myself in thinking for myself and growing on my own.

To be honest I do not have an exact plan on how to go on this journey. All I know is that it is long overdue and it is a learning process. I just hope that I can slowly wean off the overbearing, overprotective hands of my parents and make it on my own, for real this time.

There will be no guidelines or tips here, because at the end of the day aren’t we all just learners? There is no set formula, no definite answer, just us trying our best to make the sense of things.

The romantic notion would see me packing my bags and jetting off to Europe for a self-discovering trip, and maybe I will.

We’ll see where things go.

Today, I feel inexplicably fine :)

Gotta claim victory where I can get it right heh

Last night as I lay on my bed, my mind drifted to the possibility of writing again, of becoming a columnist of some sort. As the reality of graduation draws near, thoughts like these come often nowadays, especially when all lights are out and there's only a slither of moonlight resting on the sheets. In that window before your mind thankfully succumbs to deep slumber, it ponders. Ponders about past mistakes, about the future, about possibilities.

Truth be told, I have no idea what I'm gonna do after finishing my degree. I feel like I'm long overdue for a gap year, to just take time to travel on my own and absorb experiences on my own, without being spoon fed or coddled. But that would take money... and do you think my parents would actually let me travel on my own like that?

Doesn't it suck how everything revolves around money? Don't you just feel sometimes that the foundations of capitalism and consumerism need to just crumble so that everyone can go back to basics?

The basics, the simplicity of just being. The universe has no rhyme or reason, and WE do not have a purpose for existence. Yet we go on searching high and low for that purpose, just because humans are purpose-seeking creatures. So at the end of the day, you either create your own purpose, or you'll end up searching your whole life. It is basically arbitrary. Man is condemned to be free.

Wow ok I went on a bit there about existentialism ahem.

The basics, I think for me the basics involve the written word. The beauty of the written word can be... breathtaking. Recently I discovered this blog A Gold Noise, and I've fallen in love with it. I'm glad that there are people out there who are so at ease with the written word and can be so effortlessly graceful with it. Yes good writers make it seem effortless, that they strung out beautiful sentences out of pure talent and make readers sigh internally, gratefully.

So that's how I got to thinking about having a column of my own, in a magazine or a newspaper, anywhere. Something to support my other job, an illustrator or something arts related. Which would be silly of course, by my parents' standards, cos both jobs aren't even traditionally money-making secure jobs. To them it'd be like taking a ratty rag with holes in it to cover up the holes of another shitty rag that's trying to keep the pipes from bursting WTF.

And another question pops up which is, what the hell would I write about? I have such limited life experiences and knowledge to derive from, and judging from the dearth of stuff I write about here... I don't know.

One thing's almost certain, tonight I'll probably be drifting off to the same thoughts again...

I may not look like it and I don't know when, but I think I've become a hippy at heart. I mean, I love the sun, keen to the idea of prancing around barefoot with lush ungroomed armpits lol probably topless on a beach too wtf, and I'm totally down with the idea of hugs as currency. Hugs as currency. Hyeah, that's how much of a hippy I actually am.

Maybe's it's Blogspot, but a lot of times I've felt like writing, and ended up stopping midway. I know it's probably my own inadequacies as a human being or whatever wtf, but I can't help thinking maybe it's time for Blogspot to have an extreme makeover. You know, like if it wasn't the same dark blue header facing me every time I log in.. wasn't the same white letter 'B' atop an orange blunt-edged square.. maybe I'd be more inspired to finish typing?

It's time for something more chic and sleek, blogspot. Akin to from me blogging at home on my heavy laptop to me typing away on a light, sleek notebook at a quaint coffee shop somewhere. Though by the same analogy you'll probably end up sticking with your heavy laptop, draped in layers of body fat and self loath wtf...

Boys and girls, sit down, let me tell you about my ICQ era.

I was in Form 3, if I'm not mistaken. It was during my Dark Ages. I was in pain, in the depths of depression. I felt so alone, and needed someone to talk to. For some reason it was easier to turn to strangers online than it was to talk to people around me.

Form 3, PMR year. Gosh was I that stressed over PMR? Seriously? Fucking PMR? I've no choice but to admit that I don't deal well with stress at all wtf. And to think that when I was younger, probably primary school time, some people used to ask me, either teachers or peers, do your parents give you any pressure? Like do they always ask you to study? I would think a little and go hmm... not really. As if I'm one total self-motivating bitch like that.

In retrospect, oh how naive and stupid was I. Even though my parents weren't like all whip and cane going "you better study or I'll whoop your ass", it was probably implicit "encouragement", like if you don't get good results you're a worthless piece of shit. The problem started early, it started young.

So, one day I just had the idea to go on ICQ chat rooms for some online companionship (does that sound dirty? ahem). Get that, ICQ. How fucking long ago was that omg. I was that desperate I guess.

I guess you could say I made some online friends, particularly in the #malaysia chat room. Ahhh... I was the second youngest person there that time, I was 14 for fuck's sake. I got quite addicted, one time I went on in the middle of the night after everyone at home was sleeping, I was on till 4am wtf, probably had the forum to thank too. Oh yeah I was also a member of a forum set up by the ICQ roomies. Plus, I remember I had a crush on one of the members. Who was like 15 years older than me hahaha. Oh he was a good looking old chap, who was married wtf. Huh he's probably 36 years old now, and have a couple of kids already.

Till today I still think about them sometimes. After all they were a part of my life at that point in time. And that point in time happens to be a significant point for all the bucket load of tears I went through.

Heck, I even told them about the ancient wanker... not someone I want to talk about even now. Another wanker I've come across was even more ancient, yet surprisingly fast. The first time I was lucky that he only managed to grope my hand, but it was in a totally sleazy, fast way. I walked past him and my WHOLE hand was felt up. I think it took me a few moments to realize what happened, I managed to look back at that old bastard walking away. The second time, I'm guessing it was the same person, his hand grazed against my thigh, not so much grazed but deliberately touched I guess. And by the time I realized what happened, he was already far gone crossing the damn road. Damn that dickhead's fast for his age. I imagine his daily routine is to walk about the area (it was near a tuition centre) everyday molesting school girls. I used to feel angry, but typing this now, I think I just feel sad for him. Go figure.

But I digress. That ICQ era will always be a part of my life. And there will come a time again in the future when I'll think about them once more, wondering how they're doing and all.

I'm yearning for a really good story to read, like a really REALLY good story or stories that I can totally lose myself in.

Sigh. Do you think good story tellers are getting rare these days? I don't know maybe it's just me.

And some people say if you want something but can't get it outside, just make it yourself right?

But I have no good stories to tell T_T.

I live a very mundane, repetitive, dull life. Sometimes that's good sometimes it is just soul sucking.

Last time I found a blog with good stories in it, it was Memoirs of a Korean. But it's shut down now after he broke up with his fiance T_T. And man, did he have good stories to tell. True life experiences nonetheless. I went through most, if not all, of his archived posts. Now that is what good stories gets you. Shit loads of procrastination wtf.

Why the fuck do the good blogs either go on shit long hiatus or just get shut down? Sad case, man.

I know now that no one's supposed to / capable of feeling eternal happiness, but can't my baseline mood at least not be well, moody? Wtf.

So anyway I watched a documentary this morning and cried like fuck at the violence and injustice that went on in Bahrain, thinking of all the stupid fucks ruining their countries with dictatorship and fucking greed, oppression and propaganda and shit. I mean, how do these people live with themselves? I don't get it, I really don't. Is it really worth it? Having all these blood on your hands, for the sake of staying in power? Why can't these people die?? Surely they can't live forever? But then after they die they'd probably pass their power on to another power-crazy dickhead, related or not. Wtf.

Sigh. Why must it be this way? Why can't people just see that we are all members of the human race, there's no need to discriminate based on religion, skin colour, gender, personal preferences whatsoever. Ok maybe everyone's judgmental including me wtf but exercising judgment and practicing discrimination are not really the same thing right? Discrimination involves bigotry, feelings of superiority, irrationality, disgust and most of all, hatred. Why all the hate, people?

We are all but one tiny race living on one tiny speck of Earth in the whole universe, or even galaxy. Why is it so damn hard to get our fucking shit together? If this relatively small population of beings can't even live together in harmony, I wonder how can other beings on other planets manage to. Maybe they're in the same state of chaos and dispute? Or maybe they've evolved into something much more sophisticated and capable of resolving problems peacefully. Into something much less greedy and much more intellectually equipped.

I guess we'll never quite know, given our vast distances and whatnot.

After that, I did my laundry, and went on with my daily activities, e.g. stuffing my face.

Apathy? Resignation that I can't do anything to change the ridiculous violence that goes on everywhere in the world? Both?

I was reading a post about that passion you have in you, one so intense that it hurts. It fucking hurts.

Then I remembered something.

I looked back into my posts for one that mentioned something similar. I thought it was about me missing MCR in concert so much it hurt, but it was about the aching desire I felt to form a band after attending their concert. Haha. It was that energy, the massive energy you get from the crowd that just makes you feel alive. Imagine yourself rocking out on stage, with the sea of people jumping along, moshing around, singing (or rather, shouting) the words with you... wouldn't that just make you feel so. fucking. ALIVE?

Gosh, what I would do to go back to that night again. To be jumping till my stomach ached and screaming my lungs out till I was totally out of breath. To feel that alive again. To feel that aching desire after. To have my heart ache for something that bad.

Shit man I need to start eating better and not slip into food comas all the time wtf.

Dude, I practically slept for over 10 hours yesterday and still I slept just now. Must be the food coma. Fuck this I fail as a human being!!! I'm incapable of functioning like a normal person wtffffffff

Sigh.

Do you wanna know why true happiness is so damn elusive?

Cos it doesn't exist. No one is truly happy all the time. So when you find yourself feeling the tiniest bit of happiness, you better fucking hold on to it by savouring every fucking moment till the next thing brings you down. Be it yourself, other people, your surroundings or whatever.

Why is it this way, you ask? Cos sometimes, sometimes the world plain sucks. The universe plain sucks. And it just wants to fuck with you. You can quote me on that wtf.

Sometimes, all the beautiful quotes aren't enough.

Sometimes, even beautiful, inspiring words get it wrong.

All round failure. :(

Why am I sleepy all the time????? FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Wonder how the fuck do I function on a day to day basis. I'm guessing I have the health and fitness level of a 50 year old woman wtf.

Sucks even more when you feel sleepy, but lie on the bed for an hour and still can't fall asleep. What. is. up. with. that.

So annoying!!!

In theory, we should embrace the weirdness of people, as it adds colour to the spectrum of personalities out there, right? If everyone were the same, life would just be too monotonous right? (Or maybe it'd be better for you cos everyone agrees with you, feeds their own ego and thus yours at the same time)

Then why is it that when we actually meet people slightly weirder, more out of place, we reject them?

Do we need to expand our own acceptability range, or are some people just too weird to exist wtf?

Wow it really doesn't pay to look at old photos. To see how seriously fat your face has become T_T. What are some face slimming secrets that anyone can pass on to me wtf.

Is it just me, or is anyone else feeling disoriented going back to uni? I dunno, I just sorta feel out of sync, distracted.

I'm not even sure if it's the still in holiday mode thing. It never really goes away, this feeling. I know now that it never really goes away. This distracted sense of being. I never really feel that I'm in my element. Why can't the fuck I just be a robot that functions productively, efficiently, day by day? Why the fuck must I be bogged down by my stupid moods and emotions that make no sense at all? Why am I so susceptible to these feelings and thoughts that cause me to become this pathetic stupid creature? Are all these just excuses to not do stuff?

Sigh. I guess I need to learn to stop asking what's wrong with myself cos lord knows there won't be an end to that.

Day by day, I'm just haunted by my own incompetency and non-productivity...

Nothing's quite as satisfying as taking a massive, clean dump. Clean as in you can't feel anything stuck inside whereby you just can't seem to get the residual crap out wtf. Clean as in you wipe yo ass and the toilet paper comes out still white wtf.

Today... wasn't one of those days wtf. In fact I haven't had any of those super satisfying trips to the loo for quite some time already.

Apologies for being gross.

Can the stuff I type in here be more inane or what.

Seriously, need to study but googling random shit like 'best kfc in the world' instead.

What. Is. Wrong.

Mahai can't seem to study at all, and can't seem to eat right. It's like once I start eating I can't stop. Motherlord what the hell is wrong with me??? Cannot control my eating habits at all!!! The amount of crap I put into my body these days... sigh. It's a wonder that I don't crap several times a day, sometimes none at all T_T. So much go in, they have to come out right?? If not where do they go?? Probably stuck to my colon turning into toxin and getting me all fat and bloated. SIGH.

I resolve to start eating right after exams!!!! Stupid ridiculous exams stretched out for so goddamn long...

Korean dramas can be predictable and corny, yet somehow we inexplicably develop an appetite for it. Y'know, like one day you have a real hankering for a K drama and after the first episode you find that you can't actually stop wtf. You may think, nah, not really a fan... hankering? Nope no way. But that won't matter, it won't matter if you're not a fan of anything Korean, goddamnit. If for any reason you happen to catch a Korean drama in your lifetime, after that first drama you're subconsciously hooked to all the romance and tears and emoness... and that hankering will come, trust me.

And (for me at least) a Korean drama will be judged based on how hot the actors are wtf. Cos let's be honest here, that's the reason a lot of people watch them. Apart from the cinderella stories. The superficiality is one of the main attractions. Therefore I shall also remain superficial in my judgment wtf. If let's say the main actor is like not totally tear-inducingly hot, I'll be like eh please lah cannot find a hotter actor? My apologies to only slightly attractive actors. But the thing is, some actors are not hot at first sight, and their hotness requires time to shine through. BUT the plus side is, many dramas you won't be able to stop watching at the first episode so you'll be noticing their hotness anyway and your rating of the show will start increasing wtf. Ergo, all's good anyway wtf.

Wow, that was a pointless paragraph. I don't actually know where I'm going with all these.

Anyway, I guess the predictability of Korean drama plots are already notorious enough, so I don't have to go on about the love triangles, rombuses or octagons, the damsels in distress, the rich guy/poor girl scenarios, the cancers, the slow deaths, the silent suffering, the hiding the truths in order to preserve _______ , the endless tears and so on and so forth. Whoops.

In real danger of failing my subject T_T

Post-exam paper feelings: Exhausted, Tired, Hungry, Empty and Sad wtf

There's always this inexplicable emptiness after a paper, like you haven't really achieved anything. Chuck it out, next one to go. Sigh.

3 hour papers won't actually exhaust you till you're done.

One of the most insulting thing a person once said about studying accounting is that you can just have like one spreadsheet at the beginning and you're set for the whole course cos everything's pretty much the same. WTF. What fuckery is this. Truth is there's so much stuff to cover that I'd have to mind delete everything from today's paper to make space for the next's wtf.

Am a pig with no self control at all T_T

It's unfair for teens to be forced into choosing their career paths so early when they really have no idea what the fuck is it that they want. What's the alternative? Oh I don't know. The world sucks, the world's fucked up etc.

I guess some days the pointlessness of living hits hard... and today is one of those days?

Man how I hate the cold. It's annoying. It's always there. No matter how much clothes you pile on, there's always somewhere cold air can get in to annoy you. Thing is, it's not freezing cold, it's just cold enough to annoy the fuck outta me. My feet are constantly cold, so are my fingers... everything's just so uncomfortable. Fuck this shit man. And I feel as if I'm on the verge of having a headache or something? Gawd so uncomfortable. Everything's just so UNCOMFORTABLE. Having to wear a sweater all the fucking time. Sweater gets dirty from being worn all the time wtf. Pants and socks, sometimes gloves. Don't feel like moving, just feel like staring out into space.

Why the fuck do people subject themselves to these conditions. I'd prefer living in a tropical country over any seasonal country anytime wtf. London, maybe few weeks tops, then I'd get the heck outta there. New York, greatest city in the world, but if the weather starts sucking, I'd get the fuck outta there too to hide out and bask in the sun somewhere else. But of course people born in seasonal countries are used to these conditions I guess. Still, it sucks.

And the rain, oh the rain. When it rains over here, it can be the deepest parts of hell. The wind, the cold, the erratic patterns, one minute it can be just drizzling, the next it fucking pours like outta nowhere, and the next the sun comes out oooh rainbow... the fucking next it's all dark and gloomy again and the pavement's flooding wtf.

Fuck this shit man. It's not even officially winter yet.

***
Life is absurd. Deal with it. How does one deal with the absurdity of life?

Why can't people who don't wanna live just click a switch and drop dead wtf.

What is the point?

***
Things would be so much easier if I were really just a robot.

Today was just one of those days... where you ask what the hell are you doing with your life...

I wanna spend my time and energy with art and literature, not numbers and reading up on taxes and the economy :(

Shit that I don't give two fucks about, I really don't give any fuck about. I'm not saying that finance and accounting and stuff aren't important, they are, but just... let other people deal with it. It's just not for me.

What do you tell yourself when you know you went down the wrong path but you can't do anything about it.

Move the fuck along. Just, move the fuck along.

SONOFABITCHIHATETHISFUCKINGASSIGNMENT
MAHAIJUSTLETITENDPLEASEMUTHAFUCKERRRR

Oh my Gawd I'm so fucking sick of this assignment! Not even sure if what I'm doing is correct. Gawd. What fuckery is this.

Half-assing my way through it all.

Perhaps my only balance is in realizing that I can't find a balance after all.

I've spent these couple of days getting fat and flatulent on bread, jam and chocolate. And also having my period. I sorta take my period as a cue to just let myself go wtf, like I'm gonna scoff on all the comfort food I can get cos hey, I'm having my fucking period, I'm depressed, I feel like a piece of shit yadda yadda. So out the window goes my budget, my dignity, my dosage of any physical activity and so on.

You know how they say... life has endless possibilities? Well let's see, is it possible for me to teleport? Is it possible that I just quit all these crap right now, fly off to do something else AND wouldn't have to face the wrath of my family? Is it possible for me not to do any of my god forsaken assignments? Is it possible for me to snap out of depression once and for all? Is it possible for me to have naturally bigger boobs wtf? Is it possible for me to eat all the fucking cake I want, till I get fucking sick, AND not get fat without exercise wtf?

Endless possibilities my fucking ass.

So so so restless nowadays. Mind scattered everywhere. All the decisions. It's like I'm not even here. Bits and pieces of me are drifting... What the fuck is wrong with me? Is this even real or all these are just bullshit spawned from a mind looking for distractions?

FUCK THIS SHITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

So sick of my own thoughts. Give me Charlie Sheen's brain anytime wtf.

It's only been a month, and already several times I've found myself thinking, I can't do this anymore. I don't wanna do this anymore.

I don't know how much more of this I can take. Safe to say that sentence have appeared so many times here. After so goddamn long, I still haven't gotten any stronger and that sucks. That sucks big time. Worst of all, I don't know who to turn to because I hate people in general. And how to tell? What's there to tell? It's all so... abstract. When you wanna find the words, they can't come out because they don't exist wtf. Sometimes it doesn't even seem real, and you wonder what the fuck is wrong with you why can't you just suck it up grit your teeth and move the fuck on. Plus there's the whole not wanting to dump your burdens on other people thing, cos everyone has their own issues to deal with and nobody needs more crap.

My eyes are tired. I look fugly when I cry. I wonder when can I finally tell my mum, I'm unhappy, and have been so for a very long time. And I can't remember when it all started, or how or why. Or maybe it'll come out in a long overdue scream fest with me yelling, "This! This is what I've become! So next time you want me to be grateful for being born think about THIS!!" and pointing to myself with veins popping out, face reddening and tears gushing out. Pretty sight huh.

But what can I do other that to wait it out, to let it pass. I told my friend the same thing. And it sucks that there's nothing more you can do about it.

The URL should be changed to selfhatred instead wtf.

***
Another thing I don't remember. How I ended up choosing this course. I remember being so fed up of exams after SPM, I couldn't bear the thought of doing STPM. I remember being sick of science that I didn't wanna touch anything science-related anymore. Funny thing is I miss it, even if it's just a little bit. But why accounting? Probably cos other than engineering and medicine, law or accounting were the only viable options. Some stereotypes are so fucking true. I I thought I could do this, power through something I don't like, but it's getting tougher and tougher to get to the end.

Need: a new life. New identity. To get the fuck out of here.

Man I need a drink. Alcoholic friends, wish you guys were here with me right now wtf.

What do you do when the reason you've been feeling "fine" is because everything was shoved down to be forgotten, and all that was needed to open the floodgates was a text message?

Is it wrong to just push things aside, push those goddamn feelings aside, to enable yourself to get through the days? GODDAMN FEELINGS. I HATE THE GODDAMN FEELINGS.

You see the people moving past, rushing about... and you're here, remaining stagnant.

I was fine, theoretically. But why do the littlest things manage to chip away at this facade to make me crumble again?

Somehow, I wanna pour my heart and soul into this but I'm not interested in you so why should you be interested in me.

I find myself growing more and more apathetic by the day, more and more self-absorbed. We shouldn't look into the past, but I can see that things were not peachy from a long time ago. Even so, I feel that there's a glimmer of hope for me. I think this is the advantage of youth and slowly even this will slip away if I don't do anything about it. Being young provides idealism, naivete, hope and strength. You've lost all your zest, but I'd like to think that I still have some left, even just a little to keep me going.

Why is it that when other people write stuff like this,

"Just Listen for a moment, OK? Listen, this is the important bit. If you’d felt… I felt. I was looking down on this planet. <…> And I see the suffering. And the wars. And the grab, grab, grab. And I think: Fuck Money. Fuck it. This selling. This buying. This system. Fuck the bitching world and let’s be… beautiful. Beautiful. And happy. You see?”

it's awesome, but if I were to write something like that I'd sound douchey and pretentious? Is it me?

Want: to have James Franco-like metabolism and productivity; do EVERYTHING.

How're you doing?

Goddammit what IS it about this god forsaken place that makes me eat so goddamn much???

I've GOT to get my fucking act together dammit.

Here we go again, days blending into each other, waking up to the futility of existence and so on.

Existentialism galore.

Dude, I've been back for only a week and it already feels like forever fml.

The more I do this the more I'm convinced I don't wanna do this for another year.

Another full circle has come and gone, the time to depart is nearing again. And so sleepless nights ensue... well not that I was sleeping well before this. It's the same problem that never goes away, the restless mind that lunges into overdrive as soon as the eyes are shut. I think I'm not physically exhausted enough, I have to be totally knackered at the end of the day to fall into deep, undisturbed slumber. So the problem is... I'm just spiritually exhausted?

True, I have no measurable wisdom to impart. But if I could, I would want to impart a wee bit to my little niece.

I would tell her to be happy, and not get frustrated or cry over the smallest things. Relish in your childhood, cos god knows growing up will indeed suck balls and you'll have less chance to laugh with wild abandon. If I could, I would shake some sense into her, going "Why are you crying over this?? Stop wasting your time and energy with your manipulative tears!! LIVE your goddamn life before it begins to go downhill!!"

I don't know, I guess it pains me a little to see such a young thing getting frustrated and crying so easily when in truth she doesn't have to worry about a goddamn thing. Yet. When in the future she's gonna have so much (uncountable wtf) more opportunities and reasons to sob, bawl and choke over tears.

But of course, at the end of the day she's just a toddler. Of course she won't listen to reason or understand shit if anyone tries to talk sense into her like an adult. I think everyone just has to get that into their head, that way everyone will feel better. Her grandfather launches into his typical philosophical speeches trying to teach her as if that's gonna work.

I look at her and wonder what she'll be like when she grows up. Don't we all wonder? However she turns out, I just want her to be happy and not end up disillusioned, jaded or resentful. I wish her the best.

Maybe I do have pleasant dreams, far into the night when I'm sound asleep, maybe I just don't remember them. Cos the dreams I have before waking up, are all weird, oftentimes disturbing, and none pleasant.

And now that I've woken up, I'm even more exhausted than before I fell asleep.

***
Good God I just had period shit, hard piles of shit that burst my piles wtf. But where's the period blood? All the symptoms seem to be present, fatigue, carb craving, hard deuce, bloating, although... huh there's no boob tenderness. I hate it when my body does this. Giving me all the buildup but missing the main plot. Jeez.

I really don't know how to write anymore. Too many times have I started typing only to end up logging off and adding another post to my drafts. Cos dude, there's nothing to write about. And living life uninspired has been a fact.

Today was one of those days when you try to wake up early telling yourself that you should do this and that. Only to realise that you didn't get enough sleep even though you slept relatively early last night. Still, you thought you should just stick through the sleepiness and save it for night time but failed to do so. Instead, you took a groggy nap in the afternoon and had weird dreams then woke up groggier than ever with puffy eyes. Yeah it was like that. You get me?

Sigh. See what I mean when I say I don't know how to write anymore.

Dude. I need me some mojo.

And my fucking day back. To rewind the moment when the realisation struck, "Wow I'm really not gonna accomplish anything today am I" Wtf.

Is it weird that you feel like crying, even if it's for no reason at all, thinking that it'd be cathartic?

Especially while listening to sad songs from a Korean drama. Isn't it exhausting to act in a Korean drama? There's always so much tears and frustration going on.

Sometimes when I'm having these douchey thoughts, I really wanna stop sounding so douchey in my head but I realise that I can't help it cos that's really all that I have to offer at the moment.

I don't know how to be more for you cos this is all I can offer you right now. This is all you're gonna get from me at the moment.

When I'm having these douchey thoughts, I really hate myself. I don't know how to stop them, or am I just gonna stay so damn douchey forever?

By golly this not being able to sleep immediately thing is so fucking annoying. That span between lying my head on the pillow and actually falling asleep makes me think I should be doing something, like drinking beer and eating peanuts with one leg put up on the chair, or curl someplace and cry, or go watch TV or something. So. fucking. annoying.

I should just go get some sleeping pills wtf.

I hate this shit. A little over an hour ago I was so fucking sleepy but once I actually lie on the bed I can't fall asleep. What the fuck man? Why does my mind do this to me? Go into overdrive when I need to fucking sleep. God.

I'm so fucking bored it's actually kinda hard to believe how bored I am right now.

This level of boredom should be made illegal, you know?

It's been crazy windy since yesterday. Before that, there was a day with perfect weather. Perfect, I say. It was warm and sunny, even the wind didn't chill you to the bones. Perfect for a little picnic. I should have known that one day of perfect weather meant a few later of gloomy / crazy ones. -_-

If the world is coming to an end, what with the quake in NZ and flood in Victoria all, just end faster lah without all the crazies can?

Jay!

OMG Jay was that really you?? How the fuck did you get here anyway??

So in case it was really you, and you come back, I just wanna leave you a shout out.

You're fucking awesome! I wish you all the best in everything you do, and I really loved all your artwork (not to mention your sexcapades)! Haha your comment made my day :)

I try not to complain too much over here. As much as I might sound whiny and overall pansy over here, I really try not to fill this space with complaints about the same thing over and over again. Cos I don't like hearing people complain. It gets annoying. So I don't wanna inflict myself on others too.

But sometimes, I just wanna say, I'm tired.

I have no idea why a supposedly young person like me would say that they're tired. It's not like I asked to be this way... did I?

I'm tired of this semester. I'm tired of this place. I'm tired of myself.

I have no energy even though I don't do much. I just wanna take a deep sleep and not wake up, or wake up a gazillion years later. Maybe that's how long I need to recover from whatever it is that's tiring me out. Maybe that's how long it'll take for me to realize that the only thing tiring me out is in fact, myself.

To you: Am I not entitled to proclaim tiredness even though I'm only in my second year? If that makes me weak in your eyes, then yes I admit I'm fucking weak. You happy now?


There are many of us out there who, despite of all the flaws of the Government, all its screw ups, all the bad apples, still love our country.

If you ask me why, I can ramble on about the food and so on. But really, must there be a reason?

It's home. Isn't that enough?

Maybe what makes us, us is not the fact that we live in "racial harmony", not the fact that we have great food, not the fact that we have the unsexiest yet friendly accent, but that we have this unspoken, inexplicable love for our country although shit can get fucked up.

There are so many talented people with heart out there, I just wish there's a fucking gigantic sieve to sieve out all the bullcrap and leave on our grounds what's pure, sincere, brave, brilliant and hopeful.

Wishful thinking?

Fuck yes I'm still young. I still have not slept. I've essentially pulled an all-nighter!

Wtf I'm saying it as if that's really a good thing.

But still,

I procrastinated, a lot. Got distracted, a lot. Asked myself "What the fuck are you doingggg???", a lot. And finally paid the price by having to pull an all-nighter.

Those are the signs that you're still young, no?

It's been way long since the last time I've stayed up past 3am.

I sleep surprisingly early here (well, surprising to my mum that is), mainly because it is so fucking boring here. I don't know why, but it became so easy to slip into my nocturnal routine when I was back at home. Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was the insomnia, maybe it was the amount of stuff to keep me occupied till the wee hours of morning.

But don't I have things to keep me occupied here too? Well, I have the Internet of course. But I already face it most of the day so more Internet till the wee hours is just not appealing.

So I sleep.

I don't wanna talk about the assignment that's keeping me up. Just because.

I just wanna be transported back to that night when my whole neighbourhood had a power failure, and there was nothing left but the silver moonlight. I went to sit on the balcony outside my room, just basking in the beauty of it all, and awed at the simple things that we take for granted. Breeze, calm, purity, basics. I never noticed the serenity that could come from a power failure, having the word failure in it yet having me believe in something quite the opposite.

I wish I had more nights like those.

For the life of me I don't know why my right hand is slightly swollen.

Has it finally happened?

Am I playing too much Freecell that my body has protested?

Is this my body's way of telling to fucking finish my assignment already and get off my ass to do something else other than face the goddamn laptop?

Oh swollen right hand, what is it... just tell me...

It's no wonder that the mind wanders especially when it's supposed to be doing something else. This moment, I'm mourning for the loss of a beloved story book.

It was the Little Mermaid. You see, my house has all these story books that I've read as a child. Cinderella, Little Mermaid, Princess and the Pea, Rumpelstiltskin etc. And I still flip over them sometimes after all these years, cos the illustrations are fucking gorgeous. When I say fucking gorgeous, I mean FUCKING GORGEOUS.

Sigh. And I think I did the mistake of lending some of them to my friend last time. Well, she's my best friend and all but truth is she can be kinda careless/forgetful sometimes. I think the Little Mermaid was one of them, but neither she nor I can remember. But I've searched the possible places for the book to be, and I couldn't find it, so it's highly possible that I did lend it to her.

Needless to say, by the time I remembered that I lent her those books, she had already forgotten about them. So I asked her to search for them, and I got Cinderella back. Wait did I get Princess and the Pea back? Ah fuck it my memory's as lousy as hers wtf.

At the end of the day, my Little Mermaid is still nowhere to be found. :(

And the thing is, she didn't get how attached I am to these books. Fuck, I grew up reading these books. And I'm especially attached to Little Mermaid cos it's one of the books with the MOST awesomEST illustrations EVER. And cos the story is so saddd. T__________T My heart aches for my beloved childhood book.

When I asked her to look for it again cos it's sentimental and all she thought I was joking I guess, cos she dismissed me jokingly :((((. How sad. I can be such a pushover. That dismissal pretty much meant she's not gonna search for it. :((((

I reminded her quite a few times before that to find those books, and mind you when Cinderella was found, I was actually the one to find it in her house sigh. Which just goes to show how much effort she actually put in her search.

I'm not resenting her or anything. It's just, gosh she can be so scatterbrained sometimes. And how can I mention the books to her again, after so long, without sounding like a douche? Does this mean that I'll never see my Little Mermaid ever again?




Is it a bad thing to be attached to stuff? Cos things get lost. And I don't think I'll ever get to see the book again. :(

I just made myself sadder :((((((((

I don't get what's with these House of Lords people or whatever and their inability to communicate in simple, understandable English. Why must they talk in pretentious douchbaggery language? Wtf use simple English la can or not!!!

I need me some Starbucks, dim lighting, soothing music and some paper and pencil.

If I ever get a sleeve, and that's a really huge IF, Imma get mine done by Hannah Aitchison. No fucking doubt about it. I'll fly to the freakin US of A just for her.

I used to not really fancy sleeves cos I just didn't see the appeal of it. It was a bit too much, I thought. But I think it was after seeing the mermaid sleeve Hannah did that my perception changed.

It was totally amazing. A-MAZING. Right there and then, my mind was blown. I watched that last year and till now I still remember it for its sheer awesomeness. Like, holy shit those light effects on the dolphins?? What the fuck man what the fuck??

The S Word

I don't know why I find it exceptionally hard to communicate with my parents. They just make me feel stressed out, man.

And I think it's even worse when it's through SMS or online, cos I have to be extra careful with how I construct my sentences and all so that my tone won't be misconstrued as being rude or disrespectful, or annoyed. So I choose to make it as short as possible, to avoid any misunderstandings. But then again being so concise may be interpreted as another form of rudeness as well, as in 'I don't want to talk to you'. Which is actually partly true, cos I feel stressed out like that when I talk to them. Another reason would be I don't have anything to say to them.

Sigh.

So damn stressful. It's like something constricting my heart. Just this gnawing, sinking feeling.

I think I've been too obedient for too long that even speaking my mind is really hard to do now.

Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

******
Been kinda restless lately and I haven't had my period. Fuck this shit.

Sometimes, I really wanna provide words of wisdom and comfort, but find that I'm tongue-tied.

So I think I'd just let others do the talking.

And let you know that you're always loved :)

Snippet

So I was bored as usual, having my books in front of me as usual, and laptop too. Obviously laptop trumped books.

Anyway. Something to do when you have no idea what to surf for anymore. Just Google names of your family or friends. I have a lame, sad life I know. You don't have to remind me.

Long story short, I just found out that my dad has a Twitter account. Well, actually there's nothing really surprising about that cos I've known for some time that he has a blogspot and all. He's like an ancient mofo lurking on the precipice of Internet savvy-ness. But I digress.

He doesn't really blog, he just posts articles and whatnot's from other sites. About this interest of him. Nay, passion. Almost life-long freaking passion. (for the record, it's not anything dirty ok)

The thing is, he's been shoving this passion of his down the whole family's faces for as long as I can remember. And ageing and all only makes him more relentless in the shoving, what with old people gaining superpowers in nagging to compensate for their well, ageing and stuff. Not unlike when one of your senses bails on you and your other senses are enhanced. But I digress again.

And it's nothing bad. As a matter of fact if you're badass good at it you could be making shit loads of money.

It's just that... ok let's put it this way.

I fucking like cake. I mean, I can go batshit crazy over cake. Preferably dark chocolate and oozes dark chocolate from its belly right down to my belly.

But even with my undying love for cake, if you keep shoving it down my throat day by day, week by week, year by year, of course I'll be disgusted of it. I wouldn't even bear the sight of a piece of cake, no matter how delicious it looked, how much good it would do to me.

And that has been the case for this passion of his with me. Over the years, I have just gotten so sick of it that I wouldn't wanna get anywhere near it.

A similar thing happened to my brother I guess. My dad, has countless of times mentioned that he wanted to pursue beach surfing* when he was young but didn't have the opportunity, resources to do so. And when I say countless of times, oh fuck I mean wayyy above the normal threshold of old nagging people.

And my brother was interested in beach surfing too, he told me last time. So why didn't he do that, I asked.

"Well you know..." he looks at Dad, and proceeds to launch into the oh-so-familiar repetitive drone that we use when we imitate our parents. "beachsurfingbeachsurfingbeachsurfingbeachsurfing"

So yeah basically you can drone the interest outta people, or the disgust into them.

I guess the moral of the story here is, don't excessively impose your own interests and hopes onto people.

Especially when you're a parent.

And you have nagging superpowers that expedites with age.


*profession has been changed to protect the identities of parties involved. The real profession is of course not as cool as beach surfing.

Man, this corporate financial reporting subject is so damn douchey.

Dahlah the lecturer douchey enough, tutorial solutions don't wanna post somemore.

DAHLAH discussion questions don't post solutions that I understand la kan, the fucking financial statements also don't wanna post. How much douchier can you get???

Macibai.

Rendered

I think it's sad that I don't have anything smart, or substantial, to say here.

It's sad that I am in a university, a place of knowledge and ambition, but still I feel my brain decay and wither and shut down.

Isn't that the life of a university student, he said when I was presenting the litany of stuff to do to him... and I asked how does he remind himself why he's doing his course.

What I got was resignation. Is that what most of us must go through to get by? Through eventual resignation?

It's utterly pathetic that I'm supposedly in a place of knowledge, yet I don't feel like I'm actually learning anything.

I have nothing poetic to say here.

Have we all succumbed to learned helplessness that we just don't bother anymore.

Pork

Man I miss minced pork. Salty, spicy goodness. I miss those that my bro put in his Ma Po Tofu.

Mmm... been craving for some good minced pork for awhile now. I guess I can try cooking it myself but goddamnit for me convenience trumps savoury goodness almost everytime sigh. And if I cook it myself there's no guarantee of it being savoury at all sigh.

Home

I tell myself, only 4 more months to go... nay, technically it's 3 months plus. Just 3 months plus, c'mon that'll pass by in a jiffy, right?

It will it will it will it will...

Home. Yeah the notion of being home sounds kinda good right now. No need to think about what to have for dinner, no textbooks, no homework.

That's how stuff goes. Home sounds comforting but the last time I was there, it wasn't exactly a picnic.

So here I'll be counting down the days till Home, and when I finally get home things won't exactly be peachy either.

But right now, just right now. Home sounds fine.

When Boredom Strikes: An Endless Strike

Wow who knew that the next time would come so fast?

The main reason being that, I'm so. fucking. BORED.

Bored out of my skull, my skin. Oh God it's like I've reached a whole new level of boredom which is strange, cos nothing much has changed since the last level of boredom. Where oh where then did this excruciatingly mind-numbing, soul-sucking boredom come from???

Right now, I am the very picture of demotivated. All of the subjects I'm taking this sem are so fucking dry. I don't know what would be a wet subject but er... you get my drift. I can't even bear to go through a few sentences of any of the freaking textbooks before wandering off doing something else... which is usually nothing. Another preferred activity would be clawing my eyes out.

As you might realize by now, this site ain't gonna offer anything more than the ramblings of an ex-teenager. That's right. It's ex-teenager now. What age is 20 anyway? Not yet adult, not really teen age (unless you insist on it wtf). Limbo age. Limbage wtf.

Whatever age it is, it just serves to remind you that there are younger people out there who've already achieved so much more than you have, probably more than you ever will. Depressing, isn't it? Bah, facts of life dude.

Violentacres wrote that she thinks she's out of stories. Which is a pity, really. I remember how I got to her site. I was searching for a female Maddox haha. I wanted to know if there was a female equivalent of Maddox whose site could rival his in awesomeness. Violentacres wasn't exactly Maddox-like, but it got me hooked. Her stories, particularly those about her mother... will leave one speechless. Sigh.

Is it pathetic that I talk about these sites that I go to? Yea I think it is... I think it is. *nods slowly*

And I've mentioned this before a long time ago I think, but I miss isorule. I wish Jay didn't privatise his blog. Such a fucking entertaining blog it was. By a gay Malaysian who lives in London (if things haven't changed) nonetheless!

Ah I have no idea where this post is going. I don't have any stories to tell. Oh maybe just one.
That day I went grocery shopping, and ended up in one of the most mortifying situations one could ever end up in at the cashier.

Can you guess what it was?

Yes! You guessed it right! (Unless you guessed wrong wtf)

I didn't have enough cash to pay.

True story. I have no idea how I ended up getting over $120 worth of fucking groceries. Luckily for me, the cashier was pretty nice about it. Either she had come across doofus customers like me before, or she herself had been in the situation and completely understood. I'm just glad that she wasn't bitchy or snarky to me. Thank goodness!

I don't know if I should elaborate wtf cos it's pretty lame. I ended up having to give up two items. Well at least it wasn't half of the stuff I took right. I was like a few dollars short, including the coins I had in my purse. Yes. I stood there taking out coins and she was counting how much they added up to. Again, she was pretty nice about it. Again, thank goodness!

What was the point of telling you that? Beats me. As if I don't seem lame enough as it is. As if I don't humiliate myself enough over here. Sigh.

I'm still bored.

Can someone tell me why I'm still sleepy in class even though I had like 8 to 9 hours of sleep? I can't even wake up at 9 am these days, let alone 8. I hate morning classes.

Have I told you, that I fucking hate winter? Yeah, winter fucking sucks. People over at Malaysia would probably say oh c'mon you know how fucking hot it is here or not ma hai. Ya I know lah ma hai. I hate crawling into a fucking cold bed every night, waking up to a fucking cold morning and enduring the fucking cold outside. The fucking weight gain. Urgh. Electricity bill skyrocketing cos of heater usage. Urgh.

Sure, experiencing winter when you're from a tropical country could be alright for a few days when you're on vacation, but enduring it for fucking months just sucks balls ok. It sucks balls. Man, I don't ever wanna live in a country with four seasons wtf. I prefer just visiting places with four seasons, thank you very much. And this is just Sydney, imagine what'd happen if I were in let's say Canada wtf. I'd probably kill myself.

Man I fucking hate winter.

(Whoa I ended up sounding so whiny in this post wtf)