Been clearing the favourites folder on my computer. It's a mad accumulation of stuff and random websites over the past year or so. I have websites about weird latin phrases and the mad monarch websites which has stories of lunatic-sounding rulers throughout history.

Iftar project is going relatively smoothly. So far. Of course, the budget I proposed was apallingly high, but then I expected them to chop it down anyway, so... hope that goes well.

Quite scared for Natural Heritage of Singapore CA. Have no idea what they could possibly ask. And have yet to finish reading the chapters. By the way, did you know you could kill the house crows and the pigeons and the mynas in Singapore without any penalty whatsoever??? You'd be helping the environment more by killing them because they're alien species and they're breeding too much and causing ecological imbalance. Our native birds have been displaced cause of them. Of course, you can't kill all birds. Just them and a few more specific kinds.

Had a photog gathering yesterday to say a little bit of farewell to Tsz San. What was most memorable to me about the whole thing was the fact that we had a discussion about cockroaches over ice cream. Colin was telling us about how he did a little bit of microsurgery for Bio Olympiad last time, and how they had to use their bare hands when cutting up the roach. Because, Colin claims, one cannot actually feel the roach properly if one wears gloves. You can imagine how horrified I was. Luckily I was done eating my apple crumble. And he talked a bit about how roaches have fat stores in their bodies - that's why roaches can survive for a couple of days even with their heads cut off. They just starve to death when their fat stores are used up. And the squish that you get when you crush a cockroach is because of those fat stores as well. Of course, we started laughing when we realised how insane it was discussing the disgusting creature over a meal. Mad.

After that, met up with Shen Onn for the last time before she flies off. Had a ridiculous time trying to photograph three of us together because we initially refused to ask someone to help us take the photo. There were a total of eleven tries before we got a shot with everyone's face of decent size and unchopped.

I can't wait for Ramadhan! Almost. I seriously think it's the best damn time of the year. There's this feeling of working towards a climax - Raya - and everyone's excited and planning. And we have the makciks comparing kuehs and dishes and ketupats. And people asking, "What colour you gonna wear this year?" And my insane family sahur (early morning meal before sunrise) - where my dad will essentially be deaf and say 'Hah?' to every word uttered, and depending on the general mood, causes annoyed grunts or hysterical laughter. And meeting up with extended family over the weekend to break fast together, which is always so superbly fun. And terawihs, which I think I get better at each year. Maybe I'll do twenty this time. And the nice feeling that my body is cleansed because I haven't consumed junk all day. And the nice anticipation of dusk while staring at the food in front of you - waiting for the moment when it's okay to sip that very appetizing-looking fruit juice - and realising that food never looks as good as that point in time.

Raya itself almost completely pales in comparison to Ramadhan.

I want to be normal. But not mediocre. What a horror. I'll kill myself thinking like this.

I want to be normal. I want to be like those girls who bake cookies and complain about how the oven conked out on them. I want to be the kind of girl who worries enough about their weight to actually lose some. I want to be the kind of girl who has numerous girlfriends and seem constantly happy. The kind of girl who's close to her mummy and is cheerful and the apple of her daddy's eye. A girl who actually knows how to shop. (Other than for books or vcds.) A girl who endeavours to make her room flawless and pretty. A girl who gushes about boys without feeling more than a tad bit bashful. How enviable. But not always.

Here I am, always going on about how depressing life is, more often than not. gah. Maybe it's because I feel like too much of an anomaly. But the weird thing is, sometimes, I relish that fact; that I am able to easily distinguish myself. So there you have it. A self-contradicting, ungrateful, indecisive psycho, I am.

Getting away from this, I just want to say that I have started to appreciate Singapore's natural scene - yes we have some. Went to Labrador Park to look at what's left of our rocky shore. And absolutely loved that 300m stretch of coast. Some weird seagrasses, some squishy things that shrink upon touch, crabs of various sizes, sea cockroaches and other numerous life. It's beautiful to know how much life there is in such a small place. Why do humans have to destroy so much?

Why are we given the capability to? So doomsday would come? Of our own doing; since we're destroying earth slowly and steadily? I think so. I mean, if God created all animals in nature so interdependent; to exist in an indisruptable, ecological balance (think beautiful food webs), why are we given the exception to violate that very rule? It seems that we were given the power of thought to rise above the animal level because God (or if you refuse to believe in an almighty, then, Nature), meant for the earth to be killed. We were allowed to learn to hunt, build, invent and kill more than any other animal is allowed to. If the point of this earth - its existence - was to sustain life, then humans wouldn't have been allowed to get this smart. The fact that we are smart enough to pollute and alter the face of the earth so much, shows that God had assigned the assasination of this world to us. This world is meant to end. Of course, I don't mean to endorse pollution and such; just because the destruction of the world is inevitable, doesn't mean we have to speed up the process. I'm just saying it's obvious something bigger is playing a hand in this world than mindless nature. Nature wouldn't have allowed the advent of humans. Nature would have carried on a ceaseless existence of peaceful flora and fauna; not suddenly dump destructive humans in the midst of every other creation. We were put here for a reason.

Wow. How did I digress so much.

I've been staring at the screen for ages, wondering what to put in this blog. What does that mean? That I have nothing to say? Or nothing to say to people who might read this? Or am I just sick of the idea of blogging already?

Maybe I'm just too lazy to put thoughts into words, especially when your thoughts are so muddled up all the time and it takes too much energy to distangle one from the other.

I shall be mundane.

The math and lit tutors aren't turning out as bad as I thought at first. They're nice people and they try to teach but it isn't their fault, I suppose, that they aren't that great at communication skills. Got a B- grade for the 15 minute essay assignment in lit tutorial which is way better that I expected, considering I wrote crap for the last 5 minutes and barely understood the poem. I'm still considering the S/U option. I'll see how the 700-word essay on Ozymandias fares. I think that, after being a pure science student for a long time, one loses the confidence of writing creative or reflective essays.

I must make myself busier. Because when you're busy, you focus on the task at hand, and have less time to reflect and think and be depressed or angry or confused. Ignorance is bliss.

I think I am somewhat incapable of disciplining myself within the confines of my home. Scratch that; not somewhat incapable, completely incapable. The freedom that I feel, especially with my laptop at hand and sitting on my comfy bed, always unfailingly makes me forget whatever few responsibilities I have. It's a strange thing: freedom in confinement. I am a walking contradiction. I go on about trying to get away and escaping and so on, and then I talk about freedom. I can't even begin to comprehend myself. Maybe here, I'm talking about freedom of mind.

Ugh, I have to stop.

Anyway, I wanted to blog about the fact that my sis and me found an account of our old attempt to make a crap movie called I Know What You Did Last Lebaran. I think it was about three years or so ago. And my video cam was still relatively a novelty. And we had this storyline planned out. It's hilarious just rereading it. I was to be the camerawoman of course and the editor. And the boys were going to act. And the setting was going to be in an Australian college abbreviated RJC (Am crying tears of mirth here. Roombawamba Junior College, with aboriginal origins, hence the name.). A group of boys were staying back in school instead of going home to their homelands to celebrate raya. Obviously, we then have a killer on the loose who starts murdering the boys to teach them a lesson (to remember their roots and not westernise themselves completely).

We had even planned names for our various characters! I was to do a cameo as a stall holder called Cik Leha (how she came to be selling kueh in Australia, I have no idea). My brother was to be the janitor of the school called Pakcik Kus; that old, wise character always present in urban legend movies who dispenses advice but initially arouses suspicion. Said was going to be the psycho kid - ridiculously named Asaad Kelada after the director of 'Who's The Boss?' - intent on teaching his friends the meaning of raya. He was going to go around killing his friends with spiky ketupats, and slash at them with green packets. And his trademark killing tactic was to be:

"Selamat Hari Raya!"

- K I L L -

"Maaf Zahir & Batin."

He was also to leave telling clues of trails of serunding and the smell of rendang at the scenes of his crimes. My sis and me were laughing our ass off. It's all so unbelievably hilarious. Hefni's character, Adam Muskat, was to be the first one killed off, being the most skeptical about the urban legend. And Hussein's character, Harun Stokin, and Saiful's, Nizam Dali, were to follow suit.

I wish we could have done it properly. I still hope we'll do something like it one day; if not this, something else. Hysterical fun it would be. We succeeded only once in making a movie called Misteri Bungalow Putih and a news broadcast which turned out hilarious as well. Damn. How come the old days always seem better.

Math tutorials are driving me nuts. Some of these tutors don't know the difference between tell and teach. Teaching does not mean saying the answer and staring at the student hoping to convey understanding simply through eye contact. I swear, feel like screaming almost. So far, best tutor is my organic chemistry module one. Very thorough. He doesn't have to have perfect English, but at least he communicates and one can tell he is attempting to make us understand. The math tutor simply gets on my nerves. She just flashes her crap transparencies and reads off what she writes. And assumes everyone gets her crap explanations. And when someone tries to ask her a question, she doesn't understand. So dumb dumb dumb.

I loved tonight's liqa'. My brain is still working overtime, thinking over stuff. Have found Harun Yahya's website and other links at www.harunyahya.com. Amazing. I'm starting to seriosuly question Darwinism. Was there ever irrefutable truth of evolution (and am not just referring to monkey-human transformation, but in everything)? Have scientists actually tried isolating some fruit flies in a different environment or something and observed the formation of a new species over time? Okay, fine, the selection pressure thing makes sense: you know the story; the pepper moth, which was previously prevalent, was the displaced by the black moth in polluted industralised places because the pepper moths became easily spotted by predators on the black polluted bark of trees. But that black moth ALWAYS existed before; they simply started to dominate. But it wasn't a new species, was it? Has there ever been a new species that was formed??? I should look around some more.

Anyway, got nice quotes.

There are three indications of a person's greatness: not complaining in the face of calamity, not groaning in the face of pain, and not praising oneself. ~ Abu Darda (whose maqam I went to in Egypt! It was in the middle of a road but they didn't bring the monument down but built their train tracks and roads around it.)

Narrated K’ab bin Malik: Allah’s Messenger said, “Two hungry wolves sent in the midst of a flock of sheep are not more destructive to them than a man’s greed for wealth and fame is to his religion.” ( At-Tirmidhi)

A person asked Allah’s Messenger (saas): “What is faith?” He said: “When a good deed becomes a source of pleasure for you and an evil deed becomes a source of disgust for you, then you are a believer.” He again said to Allah’s Messenger (saas): “What is a sin?” Whereupon he said: “When something pricks your conscience, give it up.” (Tirmidhi)

Idolatry is more hidden in my Ummah than the creeping of ants across a great smooth stone on a black night... (Tirmidhi)

Those who are most aware of death and prepare themselves for it, are the wisest of people. (Fiqh-us-Sunnah, Volume 4, Number 13)

The whole world is a provision, and the best object of benefit of the world is the pious woman. (Muslim)

Been quite some time. 'Tis reminiscent of my old disease. That gives me comfort; I crave old times. The 'how-we-used-to-be-like's, as pigey calls it.

To summarise my life right now, I would say that I feel lost. I feel like am being buoyed around and have lost all my roots. In the sense that nothing feels the same anymore; nothing. Every shred of normalcy has - okay maybe not every, but a lot - has fled. Schedule has gone topsy turvy, what with going to campus sometimes in the afternoon and coming home near ten, and praying practically all five times in school. And being nowhere near my old friends and familiar faces. It is very nice to meet new, nice people but sometimes it gets tiring and depressing. Sometimes. Because acquaintances and good friends are miles apart in essence.

Which is why even going home with Eunice is a comfort too, because it feels... for lack of better word: normal.

Every day is so energy-sapping that I always have no brain power left to express myself here or anywhere else.

Haven't had the chance to sit down and blog this past week. Which is strange since, technically, time taken up by lectures is very minimal in comparison with all the gaps in my timetable. Most of my days will start off with a 10-12 lecture, then 4 hour break (save for a few 1-hour tutorials on some days) and then a 4-6 lecture. I don't mind it that much. The only problem I think is spending too much time travelling in one day, within and off campus. Wish I could teleport.

Discovered I like Spinelli ice-blended spins! Yay. At least that's something nice in the Frontier canteen.

Parents have gone on what-is-becoming-fast-an-annual honeymoon again. Freedom. Going out for dinner with Cik Dah.

Cracked up completely when Idol was on last night. Because my brother said that Joakim should kill himself. For staying so long in the competition and consequently feeling guilty he's taking up space. But really. His fans should do him a big favour and get him out of there.

This post is harrypotter-related.

I used to think the whole Cassie plagiarism debacle was always over-exaggerated and that some psychos were fussing over a few random quotes. But now that some people have worked hard to enlighten the rest of us, I know now the extent of the situation. She had copied and lifted exact chunks and chunks of work from so many books, stories and works and never bothered to cite them properly, the way they deserved to. And I used to love the quotes from Draco Trilogy, ignorant of the fact that the true sources were elsewhere. It truly makes me feel sick to the stomach. And the way I used to go on about parallels between Lymond and Draco, they probably were real too! The blind thing?

I feel utterly betrayed. Being a somewhat younger HP fan than her and a lot of other big-name-fans, there's a certain respect that us younger ones have for the aforementioned older ones. To learn of such things just shatters my whole idea of fandom; is there any integrity at all? First Ms Scribe, now the true colours of BNF Cassandra Claire has become crystal clear as well. HP fandom has become such an ugly place that I almost wish HP wasn't my favourite book series. If maybe I were a Star Wars freak or something. But of course, that is simply not possible.

I hope Cassie feels horrible now. She deserves to, for all the deceit. I almost feel like deleting all posts that had anything to do with her. There is no way I would want to buy her professionally published book, City of Bones, or even touch it with a ten-foot pole. I just feel so disgusted and conned. Even if the City of Bones is 100% original, I wouldn't care. I can't stand dishonest creeps.

Here's the link to the account of The Cassandra Claire Plagiarism Debacle.

Occasionally, this displaced feeling gets too overwhelming. And I'm back in my imagery, on that long stretch of road. Maybe some of us are meant to go at it alone. When will I get used to it? Will I ever?

Should at least say that I got my comp bio modules. And the email was obscurely hidden within my NUS email inbox. So pesky the whole situation is. However, I have these uncharacteristic excited feelings about going to school. I haven't felt that in a long time; the last time was probably when I was eight or something and I absolutely aced schoolwork and everything was chicken feet and I liked doing worksheets.

Just wish I could be super-duper proud of myself sometimes. Or at least know that I'm doing the best thing for myself.

I wonder when I'll stop blogging completely. How long will this carry on? Another few years? But I can't imagine not wanting to type somewhere anymore. Not that I hate my blog or anything. Just a thought.

Forgot to mention something important:

DT has been completed. [Spoilers ahead!] Well, it's not a slash ending, thank goodness, but I didn't think it was that great either. Yes, they ended up as the closest friends ever but I felt like there were loose ends... So, are those two boys going to depend on each other like that forever? Is that a good thing? The D/G part was pretty abrupt and begs explanation and further development. There was a nice funny part where a private love letter was in danger of being exposed during breakfast - that was hilarious; reminiscent of peanut-butter-out-of-the-window fiasco. I also felt like Blaise made an implausible 180 degree turn in personality or something, which I strangely dont mind. I think DT was at its best mid-DS and early-DV, when the sarcasm was top-notch and situations were ultra funny, and Hermione hadn't become that intolerable. Just glad it's over. Three years have been too long.

I meant to post earlier but somehow could not find the perfect time.

Perhaps it's because my brain is already overloaded with worry over freaking modules which haven't been allocated but are supposed to. I can't stand it. EMAIL ME ABOUT MODULE REGISTRATION ALREADY. I have ranted about this in almost every available space accessible to me. I am close to the end of my tethers. Everyone else is printing lecture notes from the work bin and here I am, clueless? Wow, this comes close to that up-there level of frustration. Give me a neck to strangle. I need release.

Had a brief nice time though during the weekend with retail therapy, as duck likes to call it. When to the best place to shop, of course: Malaysia. I think after an hour or so shopping, one should blindfold oneself to prevent extreme over-expenditure. Let your eyes roam and you'll just definitely find something irresistable. Also does not help situation when you get approximately 230 bucks for every 100. You just feel like throwing money left and right. Went to KotaRaya and City Square and had scrumptious lunch at Singgah Selalu, where we do singgah selalu.

Back to horrible school reality: I will give them till 12pm tmr afternoon before I throw an uncharacteristic tantrum. Or at least get really mad or something. Which I actually already am. Let me rephrase: I will give them till 12pm tmr before I take further action. Drastic ones.

I think it's always a freaky thing to discover that one's uncle or any other unprecedented relative has stumbled onto one's blog. Shudder.

Waiting for email of instructions for comp bio modules.

Woke up this morning with a hindi song in my head. I am so nuts. But I love learning languages, it is so incredibly fun and satisfying.

Should update about this: got comp bio! Finally. Of course, still have no idea how I'm supposed to bid for the required modules, and whether I have to or what. Confused.

I think poems are beautiful but elusive things. The first time I see a poem, I might not get it completely; I mean, I understand the gist and can comprehend the meaning of it. But I only truly appreciate a poem only perhaps years or months after I read it. It's when something happens in my own experience, and then I realise it resonates with the poem. Then a sort of incredible enlightenment falls on me, and I feel a connection with the poet - and go, "Oh my god. This is what so-and-so meant."

Computational biology results still not out. Sick of waiting.

Matriculation tomorrow. And still no sign of comp bio results. My life is just an accumulation of waiting time. Truly bothersome.

Shall demonstrate the extent of my clumsiness by recounting what happens when I eat. I was attempting to eat a cheeseburger last weekend. I was standing and fumbling with the wrapper, trying to remove the pickle which I hate, and... the top part of my burger, the bread, fell onto the floor, sauce side down. Nice. Luckily, I was at home, so I wiped up the sauce and proceeded to eat my burger. I trust the cleanliness of my home.

The other time, we were at City Plaza, where my family always goes to get the "best steak in the world". My dad had ordered some mee goreng which everyone was getting a taste of whilst waiting for the steak. And we had also ordered some bandung for drinks. I was helping my mum open a packet of chilli sauce and I tugged too hard and since luck wasn't around, I toppled my mum's glass of bandung. Bandung flooded the plate of mee goreng. And voila! Mee bandung. And we had to shift tables.

Another time was when Eunice and me were trying to settle our Gold Coast trip with Five Star Tours people and I was sipping a cup of caramel frappucino. The cup actually slipped from my hand and some ice blended coffee got onto the wall of the counter. I was frantically trying to wipe up the spilled coffee with some spare tissue. Fortunately, the staff members were busy doing work and didn't notice our frantic movements. I swear, my hands just fidget of their own accord.

My dad just came home and greeted my mum with a "Hello, Laling!" Honestly, my dad is incapable of open displays of affection, even within the house, and everything has to be veiled with a joke or distraction.

I think there are two kinds of old married couples: the kind that are so sweet and always lovey-dovey and you want to just sigh at them. Then there's the other kind that pretends they can't stand each other (and occasionally they really can't) and they bicker almost constantly but then it's clear they really do need each other and they are the only people who can put up with each other for so long. Both instances are sweet, but the latter is just entertaining. I mean, I sit in my car, and listen to them talk, and I can have a laugh. Really. I suppose there's a third kind where the couple just drifts apart in indifference. And conversations only happen out of necessity. That's scary. I don't know of that kind. And I guess there could be a fourth kind, where the couple hates each other but stay out of obligation to family and tradition. Okay, fine, there are more than two kinds.

Hate filling up all the stupid forms for matriculation. My arabic is progressing at snail's pace.

Movie rant. Spoilers (of quite old movies) ahead.

Tragic love stories should be banned. I can't stand it. Titanic, Romeo & Juliet, City of Angels, A Walk To Remember, Cold Mountain, and just now - Fanaa. It's frustrating. And for those more predictable stories, there comes a point somewhere in the middle when a death becomes obviously imminent and that's when I get really frustrated and start going, "No! No! No!" intermittently. At the end of the movie, I just feel horribly deflated, no matter how good the whole movie may be overall. Isn't it enough how terribly unromantic real life is?

I want fairytale endings, I can't help mself. I just want to indulge my romantic side at times and tragic endings simply don't go hand in hand with that. Oh yes, all the events that lead up to the death are romantic enough, but all that is spoiled when one or both of the lovers either drink poison, stab themselves, get shot by believe it or not, their own loved ones or albinos, get run down by trucks out of the blue or succumb to a disease. Let them be happy, hello.

Getting away from that: feel sad and wistful that my favourite on-screen heroes are getting old. The new ones just can't live up to the same standard. You know what they say about first loves, sigh.

Sami Yusof has the most gorgeous voice I have ever heard, ever. Mudaris gave me a cd of his songs (mostly about Rasulullah) which he got from God knows where and I absolutely fell in love with the sound of his voice. Way better than Jean-Baptiste Maunier from Les Choriste, and that's saying something!

Computational biology results still elusive. Gah. When will I get to know. I hate it when they take their own sweet time.

Finished Gold Coast video today! I think it helps to have two brains instead of one. Eunice was helping me. Usually, when I get frustrated with video-editing, I just give up and heck it and go watch tv or something. But today, the both of us sat down and battled it through and it got done in one day! I have never managed to do that for any other video except drama videos which had deadlines. Were almost banging our heads over the song selection but eventually settled on some Elvis, Five for Fighting and Simple Plan. Think this may be one of my favourite videos ever! Short and sweet and hilarious.

DT finishing within the next two weeks. It better!

Another quote from Wesley Stace's Misfortune:

Time is no healer. It scabs the wound until the injury is forgotten, but the infection festers, eating away, spreading.

I don't think that applies to all kinds of wounds. Some wounds heal with time and reflection and forgiveness. Only the ones that cut really deep stay stuck. Like that boy in Veronica Mars. Who was told by his mum that his dad had died when he was young only to discover years later that his dad had gone for a sex change and left them. Those kind of things scar you for life. Poor boy.

Does foreshadowing happen in real life too? I think maybe it does. Or maybe it's not rightfully called foreshadowing. It's like there's this knowledge of something hidden deep within you and occasionally you recognise it but then you dismiss it, and then when it comes out into the open, you felt like you knew it all along, only you tried to deny it all the while. And in retrospect, you were only kidding yourself for not confronting it then. Maybe it's better called self-deceit.

Oh, why do I allow myself to blather on?

Went to NUS to do x-ray and changed my mind again because of unbelievably long waiting list. This is getting truly unbearable. Also submitted comp bio application.

Put up a tagboard! yay.

Let me just say what has happened here.

I was meddling with the html and then accidentally clicked 'Save Template Changes' instead of 'Preview', so everything got messed up. So I was forced to find a new blogskin. And then found this green one. I think green looks really nice on the screen. Like my old butterfly one. Then! In the process of applying new blogskin, I lost my guestbook html code. -__- So now have to go back to bravenet to scout around for it or find a tagboard or something. In the meantime, this blog cannot receive comments. muaha.

On other things: went to NUS yesterday and spent a freaking four hours at Yusof Ishak House getting the medical check-up done, and I still haven't done the x-ray. Was there from 2pm to 6pm! There was an unbelievably long line of people at the door and up the steps. I even made friends with this girl who was queueing with me; all the waiting allowed for bonding time. Was so pissed when I went home. My whole day was wasted on the check-up. Got out of the house at 12.30pm and came back at 7pm. Ridiculous.

I am suddenly extremely frightened of the prospect of traveling on the train for at least 2 hours everyday. There has to be another way.

I hate the whole Siti-Datuk K thing! How could she? As though she doesn't have enough money already! So dumb dumb dumb. And don't kid me and say it's love. Ugh, puke. My respect for her has dropped, a lot.

Anyway, read off Mugglenet that Shyamalan might direct HP6 or HP7. The prospect of this excites me to no end. I've always loved Shyamalan's works. (Although Lady in the Water looks a bit dubious to me.) And he could have a whole new perspective to HP! It would be so cool.

I think all starbucks, coffeebean and other coffee-selling places worldwide need to send their staff for dictation courses. Since they insist on writing our names or initials on our cups, they have to get it right. And not turn Eunice into Unas, or turn me into Shaf. I almost wanted to laugh out loud when that happened yesterday. I clearly spelled out S-H-A-M, and still they got it wrong. I wonder how mutilated my name would become if I actually simply said Shamiah and left them to figure out how to spell it themselves. And they don't bother to ask when they don't know.

Got a lot of spanking new arabic books! Am very excited. An all around arabic dictionary I can't comprehend yet and 6 volumes of activity books. Wheee. Learning a language is so fun.

A lot of people think I'm someone very serious. Hm. I suppose I can be. I have this tendency to think depressive thoughts anyway; you know, 'the frivolity of life when we're all going to die anyhows!'. But most of the time, I think I just pretend to be serious. Lest the crappiness within breaks free and scares everyone within the vicinity. And blurness too. Life is such a masque, I say.

Meeting Jiawen and Mumu and Turk today!

Pirates 2 was disappointing, did I say?

First of all, in the spirit of family and friendship, I shall promote my cousin's beauty salon here. Visit www.harem.com.sg - spa, massage and beauty services exclusively for women. Jadi sape-sape yang pakai tudung, no worries. It's a maleproof place. There's a July promotion now, so grab your chances. Oh, they also appeared on Suria Segar recently. Prices are reasonable.

Gold Coast photos abound. This will be very random because I am too lazy to be chronological.

My favourite ride of all. Goes 85 km/h and about 270 degrees. Dreamworld.

Matrix exhibit at Movieworld. I tried to open the door but cannot.

Super-scary superman ride. Was practically flying. Note the 90 degrees incline.

My favourite polar bear picture! So cute right! It was doing routine exercises with the ball.

Beach. Surfers Paradise. Beautiful waves.

Another view of Surfers Paradise. Crowded with people on a Saturday.

Random psycho shot.

This was hilarious. On the last day in Gold Coast, we had ample time to kill, so we sat in Starbucks to read a little. Eunice bought our drinks. Apparently, the counter heard her say 'Unas', or maybe they thought she had to have some weird exotic name, being Asian and all, and couldn't conceive of the notion that her name was in fact Eunice. So there it is - Unas on a cup. Horrifying and amusing. Had a great laugh over it.

Here's my favourite picture. Credit goes to wonderful 10s timer that managed to get both of us with Surfers Paradise in the background.

Damn, I wish we were still there.

Past two weeks have provided an experience overload that will be memorable for a very long time. Gold Coast, then Reperio.

I was truly 100% happy in Gold Coast. And being the kind of person who usually finds trouble being happy, this means a lot. It was liberating; we could go back to the hotel anytime we wanted, do what we wanted, buy what we wanted. I also had an awesome time on the scary rides at the themeparks. Also had a great time chatting with Eunice about all sorts of things, from Paris Hilton to Adam and Eve to kookaburras that cost AUS$2.95 (which I think I should have bought). I still haven't uploaded photos to computer, but when I do, photos of roller coaster rides etc will be here.

A day after I came back from trip, went off for camp. I was already so tired from trip and I hadn't rested enough, but I went anyway. Reperio was extremely fun, and sweet too. There was a night walk that was super scary; pontianaks and pocongs trying to grab you or scream in your ears.And an amazing race from masjid to masjid (mostly). And a lot of cheering too. The sweet part comes from the grand finale event, which was an array of entertaining performances prepared for the freshies whilst having dinner ala kampung style. Was damn nice.

Now though, am so deadbeat tired, I'm drifting off into slumber every few words that I type.

Heartbroken.

Not just that France lost, but that Zidane headbutted Materazzi and got sent off from the last match he'll ever play. WHY WHY WHY did he do it??? What did that irritating Italian say? Bet it's something really horrible or racist. I didn't like Materazzi from the start. Uuuugh! Zidane, however, still rocks and is still the only sportsman I ever had such respect and love for. The French still love him.

President Jacques Chirac says:

"I would like to express all the respect that I have for a man who represents at the same time all the most beautiful values of sport, the greatest human qualities one can imagine, and who has honored French sport and, simply, France."

More about Gold Coast later.

Update. Wikipedia says this:

The game ended in a 1-1 draw and Italy won the championship after a penalty kick shootout. His team members later reported to French media that Zidane was reacting to a racial slur from Materazzi. The Italian side has catagorically denied that Materazzi had any role in the provocation of Zidane, but both the French coach and many other members of the media believed that Zidane had snapped due to Materazzi. Following the game, Zidane still was applauded as a hero in Paris and throughout France, and Materazzi was subsequently booed for the remaining portion of the game following Zidane's red card by the majority French crowd.

Hah! I knew it!

I can't believe this trip is happening, really. It feels truly surreal. I suppose when good things happen, you always second guess them, lest they're a dream or a big joke. Good things are hard to come by. Which makes them all the more wonderful when they do happen. (:

Have packed 85% of stuff - only the little things are left. I'm mostly worrying about my passport and how I'm either going to lose it, set it on fire, accidentally throw it into a bin or let it get stolen along with everything else. I have to stop imagining such scenarios, or else I won't be able to enjoy.

Have been sort of following the World Cup. My mum's throwing it all back in my face, saying how I used to hate football so much (I just get annoyed at how everybody goes overly nuts about it) and how unreasonable I was then. Well, it's not like I'm morphing into a full-blown fan. I'm just getting sucked into the whole competition. Zidane is amazing, I must say. I'm rooting for France, I think.

When I get back, will paste photos! Yayee.

Finally bought Philosopher's Stone today. And you say, "What kind of fan are you!" Embarassing, yes. I borrowed from a friend and read it once. And then I just never felt the need to buy it and reread cause everything felt so ingrained in my mind already. And the movie and fanfics reinforce knowledge of canon. So it's not like I forgot whatever happened in Book 1. Started reading, and I was right - I didn't forget.

Posting photos of very short KL trip. These are taken at cousin and roommate's house. Hope they don't mind, cause their place is so nice anyway.

The Japanese-style dining table - very cosy.

The nice blue sofa at the tv area, where Abang Dollah served root beer, and we ate nuts.

They decorate very nicely. Swords and chess pieces and black and white photos of themselves. Looking at a chessboard always makes me feel happy and tingly. (:

And Dunkin Donuts! Always have to buy those when in Malaysia. Why doesn't Singapore have them?

Done for now.

I have got to be the change! BE THE CHANGE. Someone needs to give me a kick to make me get moving.

Fandom is an ugly place.

My house is as noisy as hell at night. When we watch Singapore Idol, we barely hear what the poor soul is singing because every 3 seconds, someone has to comment on something! My dad will comment about how so-and-so is too fat, and then of course, I have to start my ranting about shallowness and superficiality (I can't help myself), and then my brother will insist we listen to the song. But 3 seconds later (give or take) my dad will say, 'This girl isn't bad looking what!' and all the females present would protest at my dad's lack of taste. Then we listen for a few seconds again. Then my mum starts bashing at some poor contestant and someone disagrees and an argument begins again. It just goes on and on! Kumar is right - that show is just full of crap.

I realise I haven't blogged properly for a long time. I haven't sat down and typed down what first comes to mind. All my entries are becoming increasingly detached and my fear is that I'm losing the ability to write at all. Maybe I should revive the good old days of chain-story-ing with the birds. Or maybe, I'm cooped up in the house so much these days, nothing interesting ever happens and consequently, my brain is turning into mush and glug and no coherent thought can shape itself nicely enough here.

Okay. Perhaps a remedy would be to tell a little story of my weekend away from home at the chalet or something. Or about the charity concert I went to.

Oh my god. My life is utter boringness. Boredom.

I keep feeling like something special or great or wonderful is supposed to happen but nothing is. I admit, the whole dream of wanting to go study somewhere very far away was the hope that it would be that something. Being more than boring old me. I remember something a friend said about how scary mediocrity is. And I understand now. Thinking about how I'm supposed to get a degree, work a stable job, get married, have kids and then die like everyone else gives me the shivers. I keep hoping for something more, and until I know what that is, I'll always feel a constant gnawing in my bones. And I won't ever feel truly happy and satisfied.

I was watching HP and the Sorcerer's Stone on dvd the other day (because I was so bored) and then the scene with the Mirror of Erised came on. You know how that mirror shows you your deepest desire and then Dumbledore tells Harry how man gains nothing from looking into the mirror and many have wasted their lives in front of it? I completely disagree with Dumbledore, or rather JKR, now. If I could just have one look in the mirror, I think it'd help me a lot. Cause I'd see what I truly want and then I can go get it. This being confused and unsure thing is getting just a tad bit too annoying, what's more, I only have one year left to blame it on adolescence.

What is it about guy-guy relationships that make such a compelling story? I mean, just look at Draco and Harry in DT, Francis and Richard in Lymond, and Ryan and Seth in The OC. Guy friendships are so interesting to watch. Life As We Know It is hinging on exactly that factor to rope in audience. Yesterday's show had an adorably cute ending, and hilarious too.

Cannot wait to take off from this place!

I can't help but cringe as I read my very old posts. Too jumpy and cheerful for my taste.

Anyway, was washing dishes last night and started talking to the ants. Spoke to them in arabic, telling them to go back to their homes. Ya ayuhan Naml, Udkuhlu fii masakinikum! Apparently, this line was spoken by one of God's Messengers, Nabi Sulaiman r.a., the one who could talk to animals, a long time ago. His army was passing and he warned the ants to stay away if they didn't want to get trampled on. My dad told me the aforementioned exact line and said that if one was to give that same order to the ants, they would listen, because the story of the ant and Nabi Sulaiman has been passed down through generations of ants.

So I did. But all the ants did was stop and listen and go about their work. Maybe I was saying it wrong. Maybe Singaporean ants speak malay. Or Chinese. Or maybe an animal language only the prophets know. Or maybe Singaporean ants don't know the story, seeing as how Nabi Sulaiman lived where? Middle East?

Anyway, my video editing is working again!

Slughorn's Christmas Party

"I don't think you should be an Auror, Harry," said Luna unexpectedly. Everybody looked at her. "The Aurors are part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, I thought everyone knew that. They're planning to bring down the Ministry of Magic from within using a combination of Dark Magic and gum disease." Harry inhaled half his mead up his nose as he started to laugh. Really, it had been worth bringing Luna just for this.

HBP, chapter 15 , www.artdungeon.net

I really like this scene in HBP. It's hilarious! Luna is mad. Slughorn looks like an escaped Chinese monk here, though. But Art Dungeon rocks nonetheless.

Anyway, watched yesterday's S'pore Idol results. Thank god D'Silva got in. She has one of the best voices so far. But Emilee Kang... not great, in my opinion. Nurul should have gotten it, she was second best after D'Silva. What got me frustrated last night was the wild card choices. Primero and Geraldine got in?! For the low but existent chance that someone who reads this might be offended, I better phrase this as nicely as I can. Those two, cannot sing! At all; beats me how they got this far. The judges gone deaf, maybe? On top of that, they're not likable. Good looks is not the only criteria for likability. One cannot be too full of oneself. One has to have a certain honesty that shines through. One cannot go around on stage with nose in the air acting as though one is already humungous superstar; in other words, one has to be humble. Those two just don't work for me. I thought that the only people who deserved the wild card round was Gayle, Jay and Nurul. And perhaps Norman. The rest of them couldn't sing, I thought. And why wasn't Roslan in??? He could sing! Did no one listen? This voting system is so unfair, really. It really is not a singing competition, it's an idol contest. I mean, just listen to Joakim - put aside his boyish good looks, endearing monkey dance moves and attractive personality, does he deserve to be singing there?

Off that pointless topic, I have to say that this wait for DV (my fanfiction obsession written by author extraordinaire, Cassandra Claire) to end is getting seriously unbearable. It's coming to three years, hello. Just end it already! She takes half a year to post one chapter. -_- I just badly want to know if Ginny's going to take the love potion so that she'll love Seamus and eliminate all chance of ever being with Draco. And I hate Hermione for giving her the love potion.

Going for the Angkor Hospital thing tonight and also paying remainder of cost for Gold Coast trip today. Yayee. Getting excited for the flight. Love SQ.

June reaching to an end already. Time moves too fast for anyone's good.

We bought a new tv this week. Nice Sharp LCD. Technology is money-sucking. It just makes you keep buying more and more supposedly more advanced items.

For Father's Day, gave dad an old Steven Seagal movie, chocolate and a koala bear key chain. My dad loves Steven Seagal; he watches them all, good or bad. And my dad makes a really good sleeping koala imitation. Gifts have to have significance, then they're fun, eh?

I think I'm beginning to have a problem with blogging. I can't seem to write about anything that's worthwhile anymore, because I can't help but think of all the possible exposure. It's suffocating, sometimes. But I want to keep blogging because I like my blog! But I don't want to keep blogging just for the sake of doing so and blog about crap. Oh hell, there aren't any rules to the contents of a blog, is there?

Watched Dil Chahta Hai for the second time with my brother (whose idea of studying is seemingly a brief flipping of pages of his book; very worrying) and am now looking for the songs. Quite honestly, life is mundane. I tutor and learn arabic and net surf and read Lymond and watch tv and clean the kitchen. Everyday, it's more or less like that. And I have Abang Mamad's wedding video to edit but my darling computer is being a jackass. The last time I fed the footage into the computer, the audio refused to function. I don't feel like trying again just yet.

I can't wait for my Gold Coast trip. Short it may be, I need to escape mundanity.

Damned by the church and condemned by the law: what possible capacity for fear can heart and head still find? Oime el cor, oime la testa... After five years of villainy, I promise you, I have the refinement of a cow-cabbage.
~ Lymond, Outlaw and Rebel

Rereading Game of Kings, as is obvious. :)

Shall post this little bit about woobies. Pretty hilarious, really.

A woobie (named for a child's security blanket) is that character you want to wrap in a blanket and feed soup to when he suffers so very beautifully. Woobification of a character is a curious, audience-driven phenomenon, divorced almost entirely from the character's canonical morality, as witnessed by the woobification of Lex Luthor on Smallville.

Heeeehe. Am guilty of that.

I just had the most short-lived trip ever. I think.

Left for Malaysia last Friday night, with all intentions of going all the way to Kelantan (stopping by KL for shopping) to visit family friend, Pakcik Mail, who got into a motorcycle accident recently. But my dad fell sick in KL and all plans were thrown out the window and we came back for Singapore after only a night. Think my dad's recovering already.

We did manage to shop at ever-beloved Petaling Street again. Where all manner of fake-but-pretty things are sold at mind-bogglingly low prices. My sister got a nice Billabong sling bag, I got a Christian Dior handbag and my brother got RayBan shades, a Polo shirt and a Lacoste shirt. You'd think we were the kids of some COE. Then we had nice food - nasi padang, then Nandos. And we got to see Abang Dollah who's studying at the Monash KL campus. He picked us up in his tiny Kancil car and we packed in like sardines. It was such a laugh. We also got to see his bachelor pad! He shares it with one other guy and, truly, I was awed.

It was a wonderful apartment, fantastically furnished. Very guy, but very nice and cosy. No drink cans stacked in the corner, no neglected laundry stack, no books or cds scattered around. It was utterly spick and span, and I can only dream of ever being that neat. Their dining table was a japanese-style glass tabletop with cushion seats; very pretty. The tv area was ultra cosy, with one single blue ottoman-like sofa ,and the tv was equipped with dvd player, playstation and stacks and stacks of dvds that I was practically salivating over. Granted, there weren't any chick flicks to add colour and flavour to the collection, but they had all the war movies that I liked, all stacked neatly in a row (Braveheart, Troy, Kingdom of Heaven etc) and some tv series called Oz, that I'm gonna check out soon. I could spend a long time there and not get bored. Their rooms were very personalized and again, neat, to the point of disbelief, really. I just don't get how people can be so tidy. Hah. But that's me.

Shall mention that Eunice has managed to get me hooked on Veronica Mars. Great series, to say the least.

It's been quite a long time. I wonder if the vulture's disease is seeping back in.

Update on my life: Going to NUS Science. Did not get the MOE thing or any other thing. Finally, I have both feet back on the ground (somewhat) and can stop dreaming.

Borrowed a stack of movies from video ezy last friday. Having a friend who works at a vcd shop has its perks, I tell you. Watched 'Revenge of the Sith', finally. And liked it. It was much, much better than 'Attack of the Clones'. Probably because I love the whole bordering-on-evil personality that Anakin possessed, until of course he transformed into Darth Vader. Which brings me to the subject of a good person. What is a good person? Someone who tries to be good, or someone who succeeds in being good? I like to think of Anakin as being good, but how can Darth Vader be good, you know? Or maybe there is just strength and weakness, and Anakin was weak. And all those too weak to resist the temptations of evil are evil. So the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and weakness guides you there.

I also absolutely adore Yoda, I always have. Small beings rock! :p The fighting is just so cool. Yoda fights are really awesome, I can squeal just thinking about it. And I have decided that light sabres are at the top of my list of favourite weapons. Actually, I think they're tied up there with swords. I love swords too.

Also watched Napolean Dynamite, which is a really, really weird movie. Plotless basically; the story just follows the life of this really psychotic guy called Napolean. He's weird, all his friends are weird, and the whole family is weird. He has this constant sleepy expression on his face and likes to draw mythical beasts and says every line in a sort of lazy tone. He's hilarious, actually.
His favourite animal is called a liger, which is half lion and half tiger and the best predator around, but it's different from tigon, which stinks real bad. Mad, I tell you.

It's time I said something, right?

So I didn't get into med. Like I wasn't already 80% expecting that. Disastrous interview and all what.

Not that I'm devastated. I mean, sure, disappointment. But mostly, a blankness. Now what? You know? I have to get more drive and ambition. Babbling I am.

Anyway, so I'm waiting for the MOE results (and even bout that, I'm unsure) and got NUS science, which I dont mind. One or the other.

Maybe I haven't found anything that I want badly enough. This is bad. I cannot let my life be a plateau! Cannot!

Okay, away from all this: having my last week at school. Just bought a whole lot of chocolate to give to the kids. Bought New World - starring Colin Farrell and Christian Bale in a Pocahontas story - at White Sands today. That mall is boring. No wonder Tampines is like a war zone on weekends. Century Square and Tampines Mall have everything Singaporeans need to have fun, so that's where they flock. Well, unless you want alcohol. X3 this weekend! And watched Da Vinci already. Liked the explanation of The Last Supper and the chalice-thingy in the Louvre. Nice visual aids that the book couldn't offer.

Bought Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything. I like the way he writes; he's funny, and likes to exaggerate or use analogies to get his point across. I think I think the way he does. Here's the first quote (a very long one) that I like, and it was in the introduction, so be forewarned about future quotes.

Consider the fact that for 3.8 billion years, a period of time older than Earth's mountains and rivers and oceans, every one of your forebears on both sides has been attractive enough to find a mate, healthy enough to reproduce, and sufficiently blessed by fate and circumstances to live long enough to do so. Not one of your pertinent ancestors was squashed, devoured, drowned, starved, stuck fast, untimely wounded or otherwise deflected from its life quest of delivering a tiny charge of genetic material to the right partner at the right moment to perpetuate the only possible sequence of hereditary combinations that could result - eventually, astoundingly, and all too briefly - in you.

That's something to remember when you think you're supremely unlucky.

Got lost in Simei today. Yes, Simei. One of the smallest housing areas on this island. Yes, with blur me, such things can happen. Because today was the much-looked-forward-to Roswell day with Jean, I took a taxi to her house. Apparently, Jalan Angin Laut is a huge place. The taxi went in a roundabout way and delivered me to the doorstep of 18 Jalan Angin Laut. But when I got off and stared at the house - my mind went blank. I did not remember it at all. It was not Jean's house, I knew it. And so I called her. And apparently, 18 Seabreeze Walk isn't the same as 18 Jln Angin Laut. -_________- That's a direct translation from Malay to English, okay. How was I to know? So walked and walked with directions over the phone to get to Jean's house. It was hilarious, really.

We ordered pizza and ate in front of the tv. Watched four episodes, with Jean complaining that the romance has been pushed into the background. She also keeps asking about what's going to happen and I give her exasperated you-seriously-want-me-to-tell-you? looks. And when the scene where Jason Behr takes his shirt off and shows off his extremely sculpted bod, Jean started to question me non-stop about which guy had 6 packs and which didn't. Oh God, Jean just cracks me up. It goes more or less something like this...

Jean: What about Michael? Does Michael have 6 packs?
Me (regretfully): No, he doesn't. But he's still cute lah.
Jean: When, when? When did you get to see? This season?
Me: Yes, this season.
Jean: You didn't see like any outline of the 6 packs?
Me: What! No. What outline!

~ Pause as we continue watching a little bit of the show again. Michael comes on screen. He falls on the floor due to alien weapon and we can see bit of his midriff. ~

Jean: Yeah, you can see he's quite fat under his shirt.
Me: What! What! He is not fat!
Jean: But he doesn't have 6 packs. Not a little bit eh. That's quite bad. Are you sure you didn't see any outline?
Me: What. Tsk. What. Just because someone doesn't have a 6 pack doesn't mean he's fat! I don't think my brother has a 6 pack but I think he's fit. He plays hockey. Does your brother have a 6 pack?
Jean: YES. A little bit at least.
Me: Well... But Michael is still okay. You don't have to have a 6 pack.
Jean: Yar... what makes him so...
Me: He is truly good-looking. And being so tall helps. Oh, there's Kyle. Does he have a 6 pack... okay he does.
Jean: Yar, you see. Max, he works out a lot, is it?
Me: Yes, I think he does. Those 6 packs... WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT 6 PACKS? Watch the show!

Madness. Jean - the person with whom such ridiculous conversations abound. Hilarious. I talk crap about boys when I'm with Jean. I laugh a lot when I'm around Eunice, mostly because her laugh is contagious. I roll my eyes and sigh a lot around the birds. I scream a lot when I'm with my sister. We scream at the littlest things. Just tonight we screamed when we found out Supernatural was playing on AXN. How lame, I know. And when we watch tv, we always manage to scream at the same parts. We screamed the house down when Taufik won S'pore Idol.

And of course, tonight, mum, sis and me all screamed when Chris got voted off Idol. LIKE WHAT?! He was the best. It was either him or Katherine. It was devastating.

I should not be allowed to stay home for long periods. I've been home all day and I feel so sluggish, it's seriously turning my brain into mush. All I do is watch tv, eat, spend hours on the computer feeding whatever current obsession I have and sleep. I haven't even progressed with my arabic. Tomorrow, when I see Mudaris, I'll be stuttering while trying to recall the simplest words. Why am I such a procrastinator?

Lent Jean Season 1 of Roswell! She loves it. Yay! I have someone to rant with. What joy.

Here comes Roswell and other icons I've picked up:







More next time. :)

This entry is way overdue.

My birthday week was great. Went shopping with sis at Citylink Mall after school on friday. Bought Roswell Season 3 and got busted by my mom. Who went not as ballistic as I expected, but simply forbade me from buying anything anymore. Haha. -_- We also had waffle ice-cream at Gelare. The Wednesday before, I had meeting with birds at Bugis, and of course, I expected something. You can't help but do that. When that time of year comes round again, you have to be on your toes. Anyway, parked ourselves at Swensen's (where else?) for close to three hours. I received my presents. My three nutty friends can't seem to lay off from this whole DM fiasco (that is what, near 4 years old, now?) and gave me creative works involving that. Got lots of food. A weird all-about-you diary. A frame with some artistic work. :) Took photos.

Collection of presents from birds.

Also got perfume and brooches from mom, pants from dad, the sweetest letter on earth from sister plus a caramel sparkly lotion (love that!), a clock on a cushion from my brother.

Suddenly recalled that letter my sister wrote. I think I pity people who don't have sisters. :) There are just some things in this world you can't tell but only to your sister, and I thank God I have mine.

Hah! The latest Time mag has an article on that stupid mtv sweet 16 show. I cheered while reading. Here's a bit of it, titled Sweet 16 and Spoiled Rotten by Ana Marie Cox.

"Every culture has its coming-of-age rituals. A child is inducted into the adult realm through a transformative experience, whether it's becoming more steeped in religion or killing a deer or having a vision. It's true that I would be happy to send any of the children of 'My Super Sweet 16' into the desert by themselves for a while. Their blingy flings are not celebrations of accomplishment; they're clebrations of self. What used to mark the end of childhood now seems only an excuse to prolong the whiny, self-centred greediness that gives 'infantile' a bad name. Far from joining polite society like the debutants of the past, the kids gleefully rip through social graces, alienating friends and sacrificing tact all in the name of creating a VIP room filled with people too young to drive themselves home."

I feel a ramble bursting forth.

I just finished the second season of Roswell. I don't know how this cropped up, honestly. This sudden obsession. One minute I was having my hindi movie phase, and then, suddenly, I have an alien fetish. I didn't even really watch it when it aired in 2000-ish. Though I did buy the complete set of paperbacks, back in Sec 2. Gah. But anyway, just let me say: another example of a plot with increasing number of loopholes, but absolutely lovable characters. And I absolutely love the romantic, Romeo-Juliet syndrome, alien-human relationship between Michael and Maria. (You know, a girl who hates romance is probably lying, I think.) And there's the whole interspecies friendship, the I-know-an-alien Club and tragic destiny. Fascinating and entertaining. Initially, the whole FBI conspiracy thing was believable and pretty exciting, but then loopholes got bigger and bigger. Oh my god, how do I get my hands on Season 3?

Have med interview and moe interview on consecutive days. Very nice. I think I'll end up doing medicine, and all this doubts and desire to study psych has just been a distraction. Like a dream, and I think I've always known it was a dream. I mean, I think I'd still love doing psych, but somehow I know that medicine is the right choice. You know what, I'll just let God decide. If I get it, I get it.

People

Some people talk and talk
and never say a thing.
Some people look at you
and birds begin to sing.

Some people laugh and laugh
and yet you want to cry.
Some people touch your hand
and music fills the sky.

~ Charlotte Zolotow

That's from my old lit book, Poems Deep and Dangerous. Thought it sounded sweet, and true too.

Pakcik Mail is here from Kelantan, which means I can't watch my dvds and we all have to sit and chat. Which isn't a bad thing, but my obsession is in full force, so I can't think of much but it. He brought boxes of mangoes and keropok. Nice stuff.

MOE has called me for the interview. Don't let me screw up this one too. I want it badly, I think. (This is a problem. I don't know if I want anything for sure.)

It's been quite a while.

Life has been... what's the word; not purposeless, not exactly. More like life has been indefinite. For as long as I can remember, I've always known what the next step was going to be. You know, after Pri 1, there's Pri 2, and then 3, 4... And then Sec 1, and then JC. But now. I don't know where I'm going. And it's scary. I'm scared that I may regret a choice, and I cannot turn back.

It's fine being a teacher. I think it's also fine being a doctor, just the whole stress of handling lives. (just. hah.) It's fine being a scientist. It's fine being a manager. Everything's just fine. Right now, I need to know which would be more than fine; better, good, fantastic. Read me the future, please. I say the same thing everytime.

Have I mentioned that kids are tactless? They give the absolute naked truth, no hesitation. They tell you straight to your face if you're pretty, ugly, your clothes don't match or how boring it is to where the same shoes all the time. Sorry, but I don't exactly have a walk-in wardrobe, kids. I wore my glasses to school for the past two days and it's as though I've gotten a nose ring and marred my face for life. 'Teacher, why you wear glasses! Why! Why! You look funny. You look ugly.' Very nice, kids.

Of course, there's an upside to this tactlessness: Juicy gossip. Recently, a P2 kid told me and his entire class that he saw two teachers from the school doing stuff at MacDonalds. Of course, he never came about to saying what exactly that stuff was, because he just kept trailing off at the end of his sentence, but I concluded from the hysterical laughter of his friends and the constant 'EEEEEE' sound. I was almost hysterically laughing myself. Those poor teachers. But how could they. In public, where students could spot you. Very careless.

Also, I have very much confirmed my obsessive-compulsive disorder. I had once spent over $200 on Lymond, and that was bad enough. Recently, I splurged more on some dvds. A lot more, I might add. And to be specific, I bought the Roswell series, which cost a hell of a lot of money. Was in aftershock for one afternoon. My obsessions will be the death of me. Financially, parentally, mentally, socially.

What else can't I stand.

Secondary school couples. They truly irk me. There was one sitting in front of me in the bus today, and I rolled my eyes so much, they almost fell out of their sockets. ('Eh, let me see your handphone! Why cannot? You have things to hide from me?' And the boy gives her an of-course-I-have-some-things-to-be-kept-secret-for-I-am-Casanova look. I was almost banging my head against the window.)

I just can't help but think how much of a farce most teenage relationships (at that stage) are. It's like they're doing it for show; to feel grown up or cool. I suppose there are one or two in a hundred whose mutual feelings are genuine. But they seem rare. Of course, I speak without experience and this is merely what I perceive.

Besides, the whole idea of likelike lovelove thing just muddles me up. I don't see how one goes about having dates. How does one sit down in front of a person at a candlelit dinner and think, 'This person seems like a good candidate for a future bf/lover/husband/takeyourpick' and at the same time, carry out a conversation? I don't think I could ever do that. It's the same with making friends. I can never consciously befriend someone. If I start thinking about befriending someone, it immediately becomes impossible. It has to happen without my being aware; the closest friends I have came out of the blue, unplanned and when I realised I wanted them to be my friends, they already were. Plans are not my thing. (INFP - I Never Follow Plans).

The other thing I don't get is how people can say they don't love someone anymore; you know, break-ups, divorces. If you say that, you didn't love in the first place. Perhaps you lusted, fancied or simply admired. But you couldn't possibly have loved, because love is forever. Take your brother or sister: can you conceive the idea of not loving them anymore? No. Let alone your mum or dad. Maybe love can be tarnished with a bad memory or an act of betrayal, but I don't think it can be killed. If it can, it isn't love. Not in my dictionary. So this is probably also why I can't stand seeing all these couples - one minute they're all lovey-dovey and the next, they're with a different partner. Excuse me, you're giving love a bad name.

I can't take it. I've been so angry these days, and there's no outlet. There never has been. I suppose writing helps a bit, but not much. I always think that down the road, I'll become a psychonut - like Jim Carrey's character in Me, Myself and Irene. All my bottled anger will manifest in a split personality, and I'll end up murdering people. Sometimes I can't stand myself; blow up already!

I was walking around Orchard today, and I got so irrationally angry, I scared myself. I can't stand looking at all the Americanised, consumer-deceiving shops and ultra-slim models who probably just eat salad everyday and have never tasted chocolate since they were ten. I can't stand the atrocious prices of coffee and cakes and clothes. I can't stand brand-conscious maniacs. I can't stand people who overdress - do they think Wisma Atria is a catwalk?

I can't stand walking around Orchard itself. It's like the history of this whole place - my home -has been erased completely. To think this is supposed to be tanah melayu. Now, everywhere, it's just swarming with foreign people - those ang mohs and too many Chinese. And hardly a single mark left to show the true heritage of this land. They will keep rebuilding Geylang. The istana has been seized. The old rulers of this land gone. Who's to blame but the people themselves. Nobody fights; absolutely nobody. Everything's just, 'Okay, okay. canlah' right from the time of Raffles. That's the problem, nobody cares; not really. Even me - as soon as I pen all these frustrations down, I'll go back to conforming, to pretending it's all okay.

That it's okay that foreigners keep thinking Singapore is some island off the mainland of China. That it's okay, when I click Singapore as my country in Livejournal, all my font turns to Chinese. That it's okay when you say you're Singaporean in foreign land, they immediately converse in Chinese. That it's okay youngsters are not told the national language of this country is in fact, Malay, and they all wonder why our national anthem is so. Yes, I will go on pretending, that it's okay. That it doesn't make me mad, insulted, violated, made second class. We just keep on pretending and smile. And sooner or later, the true heritage will be gone. And future generations will smile in ignorance.

Let me just say first, for fear that the reader jumps to conclusions and I am labeled a racist, a prejudiced scumbug and all other associated phrases: I am not a Chinese hater. In fact, one could call me a turncoat of sorts, for I have few friends of my kind and numerous best friends who are Chinese. People are people, and I, of all people, detest any sort of discrimination.

Truly, I simply feel wronged. That there should be so little left that once belonged to this country, and that no one is salvaging anything, not really. And that history is slowly but certainly being overwritten. I am not asking for more than just a little respect for the origins of this place; that any misunderstandings of those sort are corrected and the truth not piled over with ignorance and neglect. So that those of us with ancestral roots from this very soil do not feel like a stranger in our own home.

One of the many things that just make me mad.

I am so worried about the VCF scholarship thing. What if they can't give a reply soon enough? And UCAS declines my offers for me? :( Feel stressed. I'll ask Edinburgh if they can let me give an answer later.

My sister saved one of her poems for literature in my computer once, and I came across it recently. And I realised it suits the current situation very aptly, since we're all going so many different places and my best friends will be across oceans. It's scary how things can change so fast within so short a time.

As I sit alone

With the warm sun on my back

I realise something’s missing

A part of me which lacks.

Could it be the trees,

Reaching for the sky?

Or could it be the children,

Walking home, who pass me by?

Perhaps, I miss the birds,

Chirping sweetly above my head?

All I feel is restlessness

A part of me is dead.

I know now what it is.

Now I realise what is wrong.

It’s the feeling, they call solitude,

All my friends are gone.

Of course I know,

That as we grow,

We have to make our way,

We all must plot a different course,

To go by everyday.

It's a simple poem but, yar loh.

I was just getting used to yesterday, and along came today.

Guilt boiling within me.

I am not in school today. It's just that I am so exhausted and I need rest and there's so many bloody applications and essays to do and everything's so rushed! And I have so many things going on simultaneously that if I did teach today, I can almost guarantee my essays will be extremely bad cause I'll be too tired to think coherently. I have Arabic today too. Gah. My P3 kids were going to do a skit... They'll be disappointed. (I'm so evil.) And when I called the school in the morning, the clerk sounded doubtful and asked if I had gone to the doctor, cause I said I wasn't feeling well. I said I hadn't. And then she was like 'Okay, okaylah...' At that point, the guilt started seeping in. It's not fair, am not feeling up for teaching and I can't take the day off, is it! Even the normal teachers get to have leave and they get paid. I get NO MONEY when I don't work, okay.

Anyway, going on to better things: DV 17 Part 1 is up!!! The beginning of the end. I'm sort of scared to continue reading. There won't be anymore DT after this! Feel like crying, almost. Haha. For three years, I've been on and off obsessed with it and it's pretty hard to accept that it's going to be over; that I don't have to agonise over the long wait for the next chapter.

I cannot even begin to think of this scenario with regards to HP canon without getting shivers. When I get the final book, I think I will bawl my eyes out, I will. What a nut, right.

What's the right thing to do? Make other people happy, or make yourself happy? I don't see how I can be happy if the people around me aren't, so I suppose it's the former. At least there's joy in seeing the smiles on other people's faces. Rather than lukewarm comments that go, "Oh, is it?" or "Eh..." which subliminally say - what a waste.

I just feel so. Nyyyeaaah. There's no word for it.

If only there was a book of the future, or at least one I can access. Tell me what am supposed to pick, do, choose. What. I don't care much about the anticipation crap lah okay (except in books). I just want to know what the right thing is.

Well, the unspeakable thing has come and passed. Was tearing as I sat in front of Ms Lo, waiting for the result slip, the fear reaching its zenith at that point. My hands were shaking visibly too . Ms Lo, I think, found it amusing to see us all like that, shaking like lambs. She assured me with a smile that I had done well, and I gathered the courage to look at it. Of course, my ungraded physics S made me stop short but when I saw the my merit for Bio I was thoroughly relieved. It was more than I could ask for. And straight As. As did 59.5% of RJ. Thank God, I say. At least this hurdle is over, and we can go on with our lives no matter what has happened.

Maybe some of us didn't get what we wanted. But I suppose we have to learn to see the bright side of everything. No matter how hard that may be.

Anyway, now. The unbearable applications.

Went back to look at old bird forum. Read through the Lymond posts and realised so many of the discussions were unfinished and left hanging. Mostly because, I suppose, a Lymond review requires a lot of brainpower and time, and we all know how time is so hard to come by. And once someone posts something excessively long (review of Checkmate), no one feels compelled to reply it in equally 'freaky proportions'. (I quote Turk.)

One of my favourite quotes of all time, when Lymond fell in love:

And deep within him, missing its accustomed tread, his heart paused, and gave one single stroke, as if on an anvil.

It can't be that simple. What a sudden realisation. Fiction.

1 am. What am I doing here? Have basic theory test on Monday! Gah. And the unspeakable thing on Wednesday.

A day should definitely be longer than 24 hours. There's so much to do, so little time. Teaching takes up the entire morning and the early afternoon. Then I will only reach home close to 3 pm. I sit down, have lunch and flip through the tv channels. If there's something good on (which there rarely is) or there's a cd I crave watcing, I'll park myself in front of the screen till about 5.30 pm, give or take. This, that, toilet time, prayer time... I switch on my comp at about 6 pm. I video edit, which takes AGES, and read mail, update blog, or check for DT update etc simultaneously. Prayer time again, then after that, about 5 minutes break before dinner. Dinner at 8 pm: it's all setting food, eating food and then clean up remains of food. And I will finish everything at about 9 pm. After that, the good tv shows come on. Desperate Housewives and Dia on Monday, OC and Sembilu on Tuesday.

On Wednesday, Thursday and Friday nights, am a bit freer, then will start to read a bit. Am simultaneously reading Virgin Earth, The Intelligencer and Boundaries of the Soul. Also have Basic Theory Test to study for, and Arabic to revise. I normally fail to do what I want. Should probably cut down on tv. Gah.

Today: screamed at both my math classes. Finally had some effect on them.

~~~

From Allan Massie:

... the author who does not pause to gather wayside flowers or, more appropriately in this context, to reflect on his narrative, is like man who hurries through a city in search of experience and never pauses to gather it...

Potato nightmare. Sure, it was a good idea to begin with, pige. But the kids are impossible. Only a miserable two of them brought their potatoes for the potato printing art lesson. Then they were shouting and didn't want to share potatoes or paint (which wasn't even theirs in the first place! was the school's.) and someone spilled green paint all over the floor. Was furious with them. Made them line up outside for a long time and told them I'd never bring them to the art room ever again.

Can't take it. My tongue is inconceivably numb. Why am I so slow to speak. It's like there's an exceptionally long synapse between my brain and tongue. Can't stand it! Even Mudaris said something along those lines. I can understand things fast but my progress of speech is otherwise. Maybe I should just remain passive, and write and type all my life.

But then I scream at the kids. My throat has barely recuperated and it's already straining once again. I swear, these kids are psychotic. Collectively, they are a bunch of monsters. I don't understand why they must yell, and not speak. I brought a P1 class to the eco garden today, and they run around like it's the zoo. My heart was in my throat half the time for fear some of them might fall into the pond, and kill themselves and the fishes in the process. The bridge over the pond was a tiny platform and close to ten of them were shoving each other on it. I was screaming 'Move! Move!' and waving my arms like a mad woman.

But individually, they are lovable. At the end of the day, this P2 girl called Bella came running to me and hugged me out of the blue, and said 'Teacher, I love you!' The first word that popped into my head: NUTS. But then, what else could I do but say 'I love you too' in response. And then I got a nice Get Well Card yesterday and a red pen from one of the P5s. They can be adorable.

The favourite questions the students ask me are:

Teacher, why you so short ah?
I narrow my eyes and say, 'Does it matter?' And they just grin stupidly. You little nincompoop. If I knew why, I wouldn't be this way.

Teacher, how old are you?
If I feel like it, I tell them. Then they'll be all 'Wah... Still young.' How old do they think they are, 63?

Teacher, when are you getting married?
When I first encountered this, I was @_@. You would think kids have more on their minds. I say, 'Not yet.' And give them a look, and they grin sheepishly, again.

Teacher, can I go toilet?
Absolute favourite. For P1s, when someone asks and I consent, four more will pop up simultaneously claiming they have urgent business. This especially gets on my nerves. And then I'll announce that no one goes to the toilet.

Teacher, I tell you something?
If I'm somehow free and patient, I say 'What?' And then I'll almost always regret it. Most will start complaining about how his friend punched him in the face or any other body part, others will launch into some long-winded pointless story (lower primary). After the first sentence, the urge to roll eyes or laugh hysterically is sometimes unbearable.

Teaching is such a mix of everything. Now I have to stop blogging and go make some potato prints for P3 art tomorrow. They will most definitely forget to bring what I told them.

Have fallen terribly sick. Bones aching all over. Throat feels worse than sandpaper; feels like spikes.

I had a dream once where I had fallen terminally ill. It was some heart disease that was seemingly incurable. The doctor was left with few choices of treatment and told my family that one option was to have a surgery (memory of the details of this evade me). There was a 50% chance that I would not survive the operation. So naturally, my parents were worried. But I remember being completely calm and relaxed about this. I wasn't afraid to die. I thought about how good I've been in life (mostly), so I was sure hell wasn't my destination. And I had my unshakeable faith. Allah would not forsake me.

But when the day before the surgery arrived, I woke with a new terror. Suddenly I was afraid. And it was because I realised I would miss out on so many things in life. I haven't seen Scotland, haven't driven a car, haven't gone to uni, haven't fallen in love, haven't mastered arabic, haven't reread Lymond, haven't been to Nikki's Indian wedding. The list goes on. It was during this dawning of realisation that I woke up. Was so relieved. What's left now is to do all those things I thought I wouldnt get to do.

Bird outing next Sat! Yay. And Casanova on Fri. Nice.

Photo from Mutiara Lake Resort, Pedu. Bro and sis in front of our huts.

The one on the right is ours.

How dare they. Freedom of expression, my ass. Let's all start drawing caricatures of the Pope and see how they respond. Thoughtless bastards. Wonder how the egyptian dandrawis are taking this.

Finished Egypt CD1.

Mumu came over today and we talked much about Lymond. She's on to Ringed Castle and I have once again loaned the DD guide. Realise that I haven't fulfilled the number one thing on my after-As list and cannot wait to start. As soon as I finish all my other reads.

It worries me that I am inclined to tears every other day. What is wrong with me.

School was hell today. And there was some mix-up with the timetable. And I keep sniffling. Took some panadol already. Think these kids are driving me mad. I used to be a good kid, what happened to kids like me? Am I now part of an endangered breed?

Can I last till May? I wonder.

One of my dearest feathered friends has opened a very promising business. Come and visit her online jewellery shop. URBAN ATTIC. Pretty stuff, I promise. And you can pay in cash, if you don't have visa!

I watched Le Voyage yesterday. It was reflective, and sad, and really funny at some parts. If you didn't know, it's about a young man driving his father to Mecca for the haj. Naturally, the boy's annoyed that he's subjected to this and resents how his father can't just fly there like everyone else. The movie fits the foreign film genre perfectly - beautiful cinematography, little dialogue and nice and meaningful long stares into space.

I don't know how the whole crew got into Mecca. But they certainly did. How come they got to video Masjidil Haram but when we go there and happen to hold a camera outside the doors, they threaten to shatter it into smithereens? Honestly.

All the sights of Kaabah and terribly crowded roads make me yearn to go back. I love it there so much. It's one of the rare places where I'm something of a majority. It's where a routine life is fulfilling - waking up before dawn everyday for prayer, and see everyone else do the same, is surprisingly joyful and satisfying. And I think I was the best there - nicer to everyone, did not think dark, depressing thoughts. I think I felt hopeful, satisfied and completely unafraid of anything. And when I came back, I tried to sustain that. But it's harder here, where material things sometimes cloud the vision and cause confusion to settle in. And then that feeling crops up again - that everything I do seems somehow pointless. Isn't it funny how we're all going to die, and we don't know when or how, but we behave like we have all the time in the world? I want to be able to die without regrets, and without fear.

Went to register for basic theory test today with Turk. Was worried about that stupid rumour that people my height cannot drive, but there was no discrimination against poor vertical achievement so far. We saw a weird eye-checking machine thing on a counter and it was placed so high, and Eunice joked that maybe that was the height test. But no. Thank god. 27th February is the date to remember.

222 is the nightmare bus. It's packed like sardines every morning and afternoon. I have to squueze in with the rest of the pingyi, east coast and god-knows-what-other-school students every day. Horrible. Sometimes I don't even pay. Besides, adult fare is atrocious. I can finish 10 bucks a week on transport.

Have also started arabic lessons and am so excited because Mudaris (which means teacher in arabic) will make sure I understand it thoroughly and bring me through it all until I can read the newspapers, and books, and converse fluently. And watch Al-Jazeera too. Haha.

Ana Shamiah. Ana mudarisah fil East Coast Primary. Baiti fil Tampines. I'm mixing it with English. Muaha.

I love fridays, despite the fact I have my least favourite lesson; with the P4s: Health Ed. It's so boring and I dont know how to make it interesting for them. Anyway, I love fridays because at least the school day ends early (before 1) and we have dinner outside and a movie ocassionally follows after. Tonight, we might watch that French movie about haj, directed by a Muslim called Ismaeel. Seems intriguing.

Lately, I've always been picturing a shovel in my mind. To dig a hole with. And then for me to jump in and shut the world out, just for a little while. Or maybe, I could have a button for blanking out. Anytime, when my emotions seem to get the best of me, I could just press the button, and think nothing for a while and come back when the urge to scream subsides.

I am a scary, morbid person. Sometimes.

Anyway, have had a week of teaching. And already, the kids are starting to grow on me. At least, the ones I see everyday, and especially those 14 P5 kids whom I teach math. They're very weak in math but some of them truly want to learn. I have the most fun with them. Although they dont know the answers to most questions, they're eager to try. And it's always, 'Cher! Cher! I dont know how...' And there's this absolutely cute boy, not guy cute, but little boy cute... I feel like hugging him sometimes. His name is Said, and he has this irresistable, mischievous twinkle in his heavily-lashed eyes. I was asking him what comes after 999, and he had a look of utter concentration on his face that made me want to laugh out loud and hug him at the same time. And I had to tell him it was 1000.

MTV's super sweet 16 is just so appalling. Brats, they're all brats. They're all more or less the same: attention-seeking, vain, whiny, ungrateful brats. I've yet to see one of these rich kids be decent and nice and respectful. Not in the least! And they're so unbelievably rude to their parents (I suppose it's their parent's fault.). One minute they'll be 'I love you Dad (for giving me a 100 bucks)' and the next they'll say, 'I wish I could punch you in the face.' WHAT. Excuse me, you want to punch your dad who's paying for your hundred over hairdo?! These kids need a good spanking. They need to be thrown in the cupboard with the spiders for a week.

How come all these ungrateful, disgusting brats get all the nice things and the truly nice, good kids are sometimes without parents and live to eat broth every day (think Oliver Twist)? There is truly no justice in this world. My mum used to tell me, 'It doesn't matter if you cry, but never make your mother or father cry.' (Only it sounds better in malay: Biar kita nangis, jangan mak kita nangis.) I can't believe they treat their parents like that. Sometimes I wonder if it's all a set up; a show. It gets me so worked up. I especially can't stand how all of them want to be the centre of attention: 'I want to walk in there and I want all eyes on me. It's my party.' UGH. I'm short of wanting them dead, really.

200 000 dollars for a stupid party where people just flirt and mingle and waste their time doing mindless, useless things. God knows that much money can be used in a much, much better way. Can't you just spend a little less on a get-together, with people who actually know you?

The world has gone to the dumps. Or perhaps it has always been that way.

I have got the moe approval and will be going to east coast primary on the first day of school to start work. It's a bit hard to believe. Sometimes I can picture myself doing this very well, but mostly I'm afraid that as soon as I step into any classroom, the kids will sense my... Fear is not what it is. My gullibility, more like. And think, 'Hey, a teacher who can be bullied!' Gah. I will not let that happen! WILL NOT WILL NOT. I will be strict and bad and mean, if they get naughty. And I can be mean, and I have been. To my sister and my brother. And I shall wedge all that anger from the past and channel it into this new stern and fierce me. And I shall wear heels even if I will get blisters walking to and from the school.

I remember how I used to pinch my brother to death last time, whenever he annoyed me. I had a very powerful, painful pinch. And I also used to pull at the collar of his shirt whenever he tried to run from me. The collar of his Jurassic park t-shirt stretched so much, it reached to below his chest. Ah, the old days of physical violence. But with my sister, I would make her cry just by talking. Or, we would mess up each other's tables.



I finished Arthur the King by Allan Massie and love the way he writes!!! So nice.

Only those whose faces have been rubbed in the mire, and who have eaten of the bread of desolation, are fit to sit on high.

I have learned that hardship is the proper school of excellence.

I agree very much. It's like what I said about being on the boundaries the other time. You just have to know how the other side feels, you know, before you become all mighty and rule over them. King Arthur is a good example: scrawny abused boy to most legendary British King.

Take this other quote about prophets, from Hadith.

The prophet Yusuf was once asked, "Why are you hungry when you are in charge of the treasures of the Earth?" He replied,"I fear that I will become full and so forget the hungry person!" ~ Ash-Shifa of Qadi' Iyad

Am bored. So here come those quizzes.

Shamiah, your true color is Green!

You're green, the color of growth and vigor. Good-hearted and giving, you have a knack for finding and bringing out the best in people. Green is the most down-to-earth color in the spectrum — reliable and trustworthy. People know they can count on you to be around in times of need, since your concern for people is genuine and sincere. You take pride in being a good friend. For you, success is measured in terms of personal achievement and growth, not by status or position. Rare as emeralds, greens are wonderful, natural people. It truly is your color!

Okay, there were six of us down there fishing. The climb down there was no easy task, I tell you. Am the one with the grey tudung. And I didnt catch my fish here. Moved somewhere else before I did.