The BIG FOUR go to WAR - EPL Style

Not much to mention today.

Updates on the Rash: it has localised the itching to behind my left ear. Strange place but at least my chin and face are ok now. The rough bits around the edge of me facial area is still rough but not itchy anymore. The bit behind my ear feels like the skin is flaking but it’s not – just really itchy.

A friend of mine is going thru some relationship issues and I’m more than happy to share some wise words of wisdom.

Stop rolling your eyes.

She asked me what she should do. I gave her standard advice – do what you feel is right, don’t compromise on you true beliefs, is the sacrifice worth it.

I keep feeling I should be paid for all this stuff I help people out with. Screw a psychology degree, mondo experience is waaaaay better. Well not my experience, other people’s. If it were all me, I’d be in a straight jacket.

Strange tho – after all I’ve seen and what I’ve experienced, I’m still not jaded by what people expect and what people want. The stories are all the same, just the names change. The situations alter with the times, and little spins make it seem more confusing, but there’s always one point. One ultimate singularity (to take so grandly from Stephen Hawking) where a decision could make or break the relationship. I suppose that’s usually when I get called up. I never butt in uninvited. Even when people call or whatnot to tell me stuff about their problems. Like I’ve mentioned before, most problems could be solved if people just listen to themselves. You have to know what you want first and foremost. It can get all confused but that’s what good friends are for, to help to filter out the wants from the want nots.

Only if they ask for advice then only you should give them some. Only then.

Well enough of that – it’s making me a little depressed.

ARSENAL V MANCHESTER UNITED
12.00am Kick-off (Malaysian time)

Man Utd are six (count em – SIX) points ahead of title-chasers Chelsea. If United win this tonight, they could well be NINE points clear.

Thank you LIVERPOOL! But only because you beat Chelsea.

* * *

I need to stop this nasty little habit of visualising me being with someone when they are clearly so not interested. And I don’t consciously want to be with them. Sigh. I think I have an issue. Some DEEP-seated issue. I just don’t know what it is. If someone can tell me, please help me so I can work on getting rid of it. It’s no good for my mental and emotional health I’m telling you.

Late night and totally unnecessary

Still itchy.

G*dd*nm m*therf*cker s*n of a b*tch b*llsh*t cr*pf*ck.

My earlobes are the worst…




I’m going to look back on that last line and laugh one day….

And I need to cut my nails too. I’ve got client counselling on Thursday and I don’t wanna take the guy’s skin off when I shake his hand.

Life has been moderate to me so far. So long as the LMS assignment stuff comes in on time (by Wednesday) so I can put it all together and bind it and everything. Shouldn’t be too tough.




Dada’s watching Star Wars – one of the oldies I think. From the sounds of the old-school trumpets and the “zang” of the space fighter things. I am tempted to go kick him off so I can watch Las Vegas, but I’m sleepy.

Class tomorrow has been relocated to god-knows-where. Actually, I do know where but its so damn inconvenient. And all because of bloody A-level exams. Stupid building is infested with them. Like termites. They keep multiplying every year! Not literally, of course. There weren’t that many of us way back when I was there. Wow. I sound so old.

Whatever. Age grants you the privilege of moaning about the youth.




Been getting the munchies lately and I think it might be cause of impending downward blood rush – if you get my drift. Been a tad bloated too. Bl**dy f*cking hormones. Why couldn’t they make us retain something more useful like knowledge, or do something more aesthetically pleasing with it, like accumulate into the boobage area? Well it sorta does, but not much.


I just thought of something.

Hormones are hor-MOANS

...

I'm a genius.
Plus, having rashes on the face does not help the situation any. I’m forced to pull back my hair so it doesn’t irritate my face. So now, my face is kinda puffed up and slightly red; itchy at the sides; really rough cos of the swelling; AND I have to pull back my hair so it looks like I have no sense of style what so ever.

Why didn’t the guy up there at least give me a face that looks good sans hair?!

Grumble grumble grumble…

Itchiness is a sign of the times

Tis the season for allergies. And everyone’s got them. I can list you the people around me who have suffered from, and are still suffering from, ALLERGIES.


And it really odd that everyone is suffering from the same symptoms too: rashes. Even I’ve go rashes - and I don’t have any allergies that I know of. Really really itchy. Well, not as itchy as it could be I guess.

So far, People Who ARE Itching:

ME

And I’m not even allergic to anything! This is so unfair!


Well, the last time I broke out in rashes that were as annoying as this, my legs looked like blobs of red swells of flesh. And that was after I upchucked on my jeans. I think that was a reaction to the acid or something.

It’s on the sides of my face so my hair keeps touching it even when I tie it up and it’s half driving me Crazy.

GOH YAU JUN

This poor fella has got rashes all over his body. He’s resorted to wearing long sleeves to class and I really feel bad for him.


He’s taking it rather well tho. Not a peep of complaint from him. Kudos to you, man. He has no idea why he’s got them and he doesn’t want to take any allergy tests. He’s been thru a lot tho, first the busted knee, now this. Someone give this guy a break (not literally).

People Who WERE Itching

ADRIAN TAN

But not anymore, thanks to ZYRTEC.


Apparently it came on all of a sudden and now he’s allergic to prawns or something. He’s been pitching this allergy drug to all of us itchy people.

MY MUM

According to her, it’s because of stress. She couldn’t stand the itching so she went to the doc and they gave her calamine with meds in it.

She didn’t use it all the time and she complained like mad. She even went for a facial, the silly cow.

* * *

And for memory sake, no I don’t like him. It’s just fun to give and receive attention. I give the verbal finger to anyone who thinks otherwise, and I think they know who they are. But your forgiven for thinking that – I’m pretty convincing when bored.

Too. Much. Text.

The silly earthquake in Taiwan has played havoc with net lines in this area of ze world so I'm finding it increasingly frustrating uploading pictures.

Is it because of Imageshack or is it the picture I'm trying to upload? It's for the background and it like 900 pixels across. I've uploaded a similar size picture recently but it's giving me hell with this one.

Anyway, sorry about this hopefully temporary setback.

Periods minus the pain equals boring posts. Sorry.

You may be wondering where the painful period posts have gone (I love alliteration, don’t you?). Well it seems that due to stabilizing hormones and all that, I’m all fine and pain-free.

So the rants and raves about stabbing pains may halt for a while. Tho, now that I’ve said I don’t suffer from it anymore, I’ll probably hit me double this month.

That’s justice for you. I guess my destiny is to be a blogging ball of fury and rage. So be it. I think I write more interesting stuff when I’m in pain anyway – both the physical and mental.

And I ain’t sadistic before you bombard me with labels of sadism and whatnot.

* * *

Anyway

On other fronts, the peaceful feeling has passed somewhat and I’m rather back in apathy mode. Sort of half-half.

Got a lot on my plate to do but good ol’ blogger is pleasantly distracting me. Pleasantly in a sense that this is mindless babble which does nothing whatsoever to improve my mental skills.

Actually, this may be helping my touch typing.

I refuse to log in to MSN messenger for fear of:

Distractions

Getting messaged by that guy again

I went to the lounge to watch a bit of old Top Gear on ntv7 and whilst I was watching Jeremy Clarkson rev his way up a Scottish mountain, the fella IM-ed me. Good thing I was technically disconnected so I didn’t bother to reply.


I’m not too sure of what to do at this point. I’ve told him that: he’s weird, he’s strange and that he’s creepy. And still he continues to do that same thing.

Oh, plus, he’s asked me to tell him when he annoys me. Nice gesture but any person with an embedded moral conscience wouldn’t do that. Unless you know then like really well. I have never even met this guy. I don’t want to, but that’s beside the point.

Oh and before I continue on this rather stressful subject (I’m feeling all “eugh” already), let me just say that I refuse to get to know any person who I just meet on the internet. Well, if they know me thru a friend or something, then fine. If they are polite and not stupid creepy, then fine. Case in point: I added this guy on friendster like ages ago. He sent me a message and asked me to add him to my MSN and gave me his email add. No danger there so ok. Turned out to be a nice fella who I sometimes chat with online. He wasn’t forward, just friendly chat and we talked about random little things, and no underlying connotations to make it uncomfortable. We were and still are just friends.

Ladies and gentlemen, THAT’S how you do it. THAT’S how you get to know someone over the internet. NOT by saying hello, and after 5 lines of chat, ask them if they have a boyfriend. THAT is the fastest way to be labelled a CREEP.

And to say the least, yes I do enjoy attention, but not this kind. This kind of attention I can live without.

Again with the questions.

It’s not like I KNOW he fancies me. Because I’m no mind reader so he could just be a really friendly guy. Andi’m fine with that. It’s just that… there’s a freaky sort of vibe – that permeates the air around my torso and it feels creepy, you know?

STOP:
Asking when my birthday is
Asking what annoys me
Telling me I’m cool / great / strong / smart
Going “ooo”
Saying “ler”
Typing in manglish – it’s a spoken language, not a written one
Asking when I cry – it’s not being sensitive, its irritating

Ok, I’m giving him a chance. I’m going to stop treating him like creepy stalker boy and start treating him like friendly manglish boy. Still annoying, just not as creepy. See how this turns out. And don’t go around thinking I’m leading him on, because I’m not. If I wanted to lead him on, he’d follow me off a cliff. HAH. This is me friendly: Hi. Yeap. No. whatever dude.

I’ve had problems with guys like this before – so very naive and they don’t get the difference between friendly and flirty.

Oh, and I’m not laughing with him either. No “haha”s from this quarter. Er… lots of “haha”s from the other end tho. I’m not that funny dude.

Anyway, I find that guys from (sorry to generalise, but it can’t be helped) local schools, I think especially the Chinese ed schools, are so sheltered from outgoing females – like myself. Not to say that Chinese ed girl students are introverted, but the tendency is that they are and it’s no fault of their own, it’s the education system so I, in the end, blame the Chinese education system for all of my problems in this area. Stop repressing the pre-pubesant and let them live and grow so that when they go out and meet other types of people, they don’t irritate the hell out of them. Please?

I’m assuming this one is Chinese ed because: of the way he types, his atrocious grammar, his email is his Chinese name, and he’s Chinese (yeah I know other races go to Chinese schools too) and… I think it’s mainly the grammar that’s tipped me off. But I could be wrong.

ADDITIONAL STOP:
Asking if guys PIKAT me! – pikat apparently means “woo”

Ok, this is borderline making me feel queasy. And not in the lovesick way.

How the hell am I supposed to fend this guy off? He’s a nice guy and polite and all – but I think he’s getting all the wrong signals. Or more likely, he doesn’t get the hint.

Don’t fricking ask me about my lovelife you tard! And don’t ask me to put it into statistics either. If you make me roll my eyes up any more its going to go roll in and out of my ear.

Hmm, maybe he just wants to learn about girls in general. And I happen to be the unfortunate guinea pig he picked. I hope that’s what it all is. Kind of a strange topic of conversation for like the second time we talk.

Well fine, if that’s what he’s looking for - general girl knowledge, then that’s all I’ll give him. No more specifics from me.

Oh great, now he’s using a hypothetical. And another girl in his class. I’m tempted to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s going to end up biting him in the ass in the end anyway.

You're not creepy, just...

Hmm I checked and maybe I don’t have any posts pending that have nothing to do with me. Sorry y’all for false hopes.

Hmm I’m come a far bit since this blog was up and staggering in 2005. Maybe I’ll post my CV up or something. Think it might get me hired one day? Perhaps.

Nothing major happening today. No class so I lazed around at home in front of the tv in my pyjamas and my notebook. I guess I’m supposed to do some work but to be honest I did a smidgen. Well I thought about it. It counts I guess the whole scheme of things… ok, no it doesn’t but whatever.

Hmm, got some thoughts on my mind so pardon me for getting this off my chest.

Have you ever talked to a guy (online or in person or on the phone) and got the distinct impression that he likes you? Yeah, I know I’m flipping the switch on things but nvm. Well, it’s creepy. It’s not so creepy if you don’t know, but if he straight out says things or asks questions that are just a littttle too personal, then that’s weird.

Ok, so here’s the List of Creepy Things Guys Say When (You Kinda Know That) They Are Interested In You

Oh, I should define what kind of guy you have to be before it relates to “you”, per se.
Guys who become creepy are: those we are not attracted to, those who we do not wish to talk to, those who we do not consider a "friend", those who we have no prior knowledge of, those who we show no interest in getting to know and those who come off as creepy by way of first impression.




#1 “Do you have a boyfriend?” or mention anything boyfriend-related

Ok, so it many not be all that creepy but if the guy asks you more than once it makes hair stand on end.

Especially if he asks if you’re talking to said boyfriend.

Girls, you know why he says it. He wants to hear those magical words: “No, I don’t have a boyfriend.” Which translates directly into boy-speak as: “I’m single and available and obviously attracted to you so by all means please flirt with me.”

Boys, don’t fall into the ego trap. Not everything is about you. We do not sit by our phones on at our computers solely in the hope of talking to you. Unless we happen to like you then yes, we might. But don’t assume this. It’s annoying. And creepy.



#2 Asks all about your favourite type of movie

Yeah. Ok. We get it. So you don’t get it wrong when you ask us out. Good for you. A for effort. But you’re getting nowhere pal. Beating around the bush isn’t helpful. Actually it’s downright irritating. We already know. We know. We’re women, not dolls. We have a brain and we can figure it out.

Boys, if you’re gonna ask, ask. Don’t wear a path around the forsaken bush and try and “figure us out”. The answer’s still going to be no anyway.

#3 Keep saying you are “cool” or “great” or “beautiful” or “pretty”

We know we are. And you’re not the first one to say it.

I’ve deliberately left out “cute” because that could go either way. But if used in conjunction with the other ones, then take it as meaning he digs you. Ew.

Boys, don’t overdo it with the compliments. If she doesn’t reciprocate, then you have no hope, I’m sorry. You can work it all you like but overkill really will kill your chances.



#4 Tries to entertain you and keep you talking to him

What I got were jokes. Lots of them. Copied and pasted into the chat window. Thoughtful, but it gets old.

Boys, the effort is appreciated. But if there’s no response that’s more than a polite “haha”, then you really have to pack it up and excuse yourself. Don’t make her dislike you any further by forcing her to pay attention to you.

* * *

The reason that it’s so annoying is that you know that they have next to no chance in hooking up with you. He doesn’t get it. And no matter how hard you try to send the right signals (i.e. back off, you’re creepy, I’m not interested), they always come back for a second, third, fourth ad infinitum shot. They will never go right out and say it, so you can’t tell them to back off in case you’re wrong. Sucks to be you.

I’m talking to one online now. It’s late. He’s done all the above things. The fact that he has yet to tell me how he got my email is fking blowing my mind with irritation. It’s the least bit of courtesy you could extend to a friendly female who doesn’t recall who the hell you are. And I told him this. Repeatedly. I don’t ask for fun.

I should post tips for guys: Signs that a girl doesn’t like you in that way. Coming soon!

On second thought, let's try to be rational here.

I know that the last few entries have been stricken with outpourings of the heart and it sickens me as much as it probably annoys you. I do indeedy do have several non-emotional entries pending, but we’ll see if I have the time and motivation to finish them. Some pretty good Pulitzer Prize winning stuff I reckon.

Anyway, after watching Someone Like You (Yay Ashley Judd etc etc), I’m taking a new refreshed look at my current single situation. I would love it for it to be his fault. I’m not heartbroken! But a mild version. If total heartbreak was akin to a heart attack, then this is more of an aneurism.

I truly do hope it happens to me again. The good bits, not the bad bits. The bad bits take their toll, but it just takes one little good bit to wash it all away. Spoken from experience.

I don’t know why, but it’s always when you don’t try or don’t look that it comes your way. But then if you try not to try, its works out in reverse and you still don’t get anywhere. I guess the lesson is just to relax. Let the good times roll and the good times will roll to you.

If there’s anything that Ashley Judd has taught me, it’s that second chances do exist. Second and third and fourth chances at finding that something special and it’s not the end of the world if your chance doesn’t work out. As long as you have supportive (albeit crazy) friends to help you thru it, you’ll get by, with nary a scratch – maybe a few, but its all part of growing up.

I don’t know how I’m going to find that person. That “special someone”. I’m sure that there is one person in the world for everyone. There are also people who will lead you to them, either by guiding you or dividing you. Songs, to put into effect: Bless the Broken Road by the Rascal Flatts. I love that song, because it talks about all the past messes that you’ve gotten into before finding that person. It’s inspirational, tho a little bit painful to hear if you’ve just been chucked.

I think I was fine – like totally fine – before that little reminder of him cropped up. Kinda like putting a thick bandage on a wound. No wait. More like the wound’s healed (it was only a little scratch) and then he made it itchy and I scratched. And out pops the blood. Temporary setback.

I will never give up hope on finding “the one”. I just have to remind myself to not jump the gun. But what if he wants to jump the gun? Speaking as a sane and rational (ok, maybe a little biased?) person; I suggest, go slow. The feeling is great when they feel so strongly about you, but if you’re really not ready, then hold back. Never feel like you should follow their tempo.

But the more OK you are, the faster you’re ready to jump and the more heartbroken and torn you are, the more cautious you’re gonna be.

Advice for future self: it exists. It truly does. Finding it is the ultimate question. It’s got nothing to do with pheromones and casual you-know-what is just as good a path as diving nead down into work. Don’t give up on a good thing if there is the remotest chance of it going somewhere. Hope is not the enemy, but don’t read into it any more than it is.

I’m still at peace tho.

A song springs to mind: Illegal by Shakira. Listen and learn. I totally agree with her. Women are emotional creatures. It’s how we were programmed. Live with it fellas.

This ain't right.

This isn’t right. I should be over this. I swear. Get out of my heart.

It was fine when you weren’t around. YOU know who You are. Tho I didn’t give you this blog address I’ll consider this an open letter to you. I didn’t like you that much. Well I tried not to. But you shouldn’t be lingering around.

I don’t like the way this feels. I need to write it out. It’s like:… someone is squeezing my heart. I can barely breathe. It’s not exhilaration. I’m trying to quash it with annoyance. Yeah, refer to previous graphs regarding feelings in and out and you’ll see what I mean.

I guess you can’t not like someone but I just wish you could just control how much. I really didn’t want to like you like this. I’m not stalkering or whatever.

The initial shock of seeing you online (yeap, that’s the trigger. Don’t call me lame, trigger-finger) makes me want to talk to you and not talkt o you at the same time. What the hell is wrong with me?

Babble babble. There is no structure in this post. I’m going to regret writing this so messily tomorrow. Its times like these I need to watch my break-up movies, i.e. Someone Like You, and Under The Tuscan Sun. Good times all round.

I want to know where you’re at. Are you over me? You probably obviously are. I would still like to know. Was there anything to be over in the first place? Am I just overreacting? No and a yes to be in the worst-case scenario.

Hah. Like I’m worth hanging on to. Woah. Major self-esteem crisis here. I really really don’t want to fall down that hole again. There aren’t enough cute guys to flirt with in uni to bounce back too. Not to rebound to, but flirting is therapeutic. Kinda makes you feel… worthy of attention. Hah.

I need that kind of attention. Tyng! Where is my kindred spirit when I need her?

…

(Are mobile phones so redundant nowadays? Pick up woman!)

Aaanyway, sigh. Feel so much better. I guess I need to just distract myself or something and push that part of me aside till it get so squashed and small it doesn’t matter anymore.

Here’s to hoping it works…

Reminder to self

These past few posts have been awfully personal and the reason being is that some people have appeared in my life - old and new ones - and while faced with new situations, I don't really tend to handle things very well.

You live and you learn.

So reminder to self: Don't get caught up. It's nice to think about it, but you really don't have a good control on things so just stop that right now. Leave the imagining to Hollywood.

And also, on a rather depressing tone: hope leads to disappointment. You know the rest.

Who was it that said "anger is only love frustrated"? Well same applies to hope, cept less intense.

Happy New Year self :)

NOT a retraction

Now that the two days of absolute freedom are up, I regret not actually doing anything productive in that time. Not to say that lounging around and staying up late weren’t fun but me complaining of being bored could have resulted in me actually doing work or collecting the clothes or something at least remotely useful.

Now that father is home, I miss the sound of silence and the totally solitude that come with it. It could have been immensely lonely at times but some peace is nice once in a while.

I think having nothing to do is affecting me in ways I don’t understand. Well I understand it to the extent that I know that I don’t like it and that I need a hobby.
I hate having nothing to do. I have motivational problems – really – but if there’s a good idea there out there somewhere, I have yet to find it.

This’ll be short. The last post was real. Not a cry for help, per se, but a call out of desperation. Desperate to do something.

I have issues. Only one person knows most of them. Only one person knows all of them.

A lonely Saturday

Dear blog,

I have never been in love. So this is not the feeling of a heart being ripped out. This is the feeling of having your trust thrown away.

I tend to trust people unconditionally. Which in itself is a beautiful and foolish thing. I don’t give my trust just freely. I trust people not to screw me over in general but if in times they do, it shouldn’t matter because of human nature, you put yourself first and if that means lying to a person, then so be it. I have only given my trust to a few people in my entire lifetime. And by this is mean full trust. Not the “I trust that you will remember to water my plants” kind of trust but the kind of trust as in, “I trust you to come through for me in times of crisis” kind of trust. The type reserved for parents, best friends and boyfriends.

Boyfriends are where the problem starts. I don’t have a great track record if you can even call it that. The first one, took my trust, looked at it, and decided he could do better. The “second one”, if there ever was one in the first place, saw the trust I gave him and didn’t even recognise it. It’s not like I tried to disguise it as something else, but what should he know. He’s never seen real trust before.

Of the two times I’ve tried, I’ve been crush, hurt and humiliated. It doesn’t hurt me as much to be dumped or ignored, but it really hurts like a stab in the heart to feel stupid and know I should have known better. I’m the one who’s supposed to know when to play it out and when to get serious. I’m the one who should have protected the trust till it was ready to be given away.

And of all this, I have gotten nothing if not smarter. I now know that out of quiet desperation there is one thing that should always remain – the quiet. For no reason should one ever give in too early. Never reveal what isn’t yours in the first place. Stay in your little bottle down below and even though your ready to tell the world what you feel, it’s always too early. Always another day to wait. And in that sense, you’re safe. That’s how you protect the trust.

But don’t get me wrong. I truly believe in love and all that romantic comedy crap. I’m sure it exists. My parents are living proof. But how it comes about is another matter to be left alone by Hollywood. I have seen too many great romantic comedies and I think they have screwed my up. I am one of those people who love to get that warm fuzzy feeling but it’ll never happen to me. For one reason or another.

And I don’t blame the boys for making me feel like I feel. I feel like I feel because I know I did wrong. I blame myself for believing that what I felt was real instead of premature. I jumped the gun before they ever did and I got punished for it. The first time I was wrong I blamed him. It felt better in the beginning to do that so I did it. And people believed in it so fine. But I’ve always blamed myself for never being good enough to keep him. Even if he was evil in the first place (according to sources). The second. Well. He was decent enough and was rated “nice but polite” by the same sources. No one ever said blur and / or ignorant. He never actually did anything. I have yet to be “dumped” by him. But I might as well be. To describe the feeling, imagine yourself falling down a hole. A really big hole. You can’t touch the sides but you’re just falling, falling. And you expect to hit the bottom aaaany time now. But you don’t and just keep falling and falling with no hope of saving yourself or ending it quick. That’s how it is.

But enough about how shit I am. I’ve resolved (and this is not a New Years thing) to be my own self. Sounds stupid but hey. I’m not gonna rely on anyone, I’m not gonna need anyone. I’m just going to be the old old self-confident me. I think I know where the decline started. And I blame secondary school for it.

I have a theory about self confidence and self esteem. There are times when people can be labelled arrogant or shy but that all depends on how people perceive them. Graphical example:


It’s a really easy graph to understand. There are two factors. First is self-confidence. How you perceive yourself and how comfortable you are with who you are and what you do. Second is how others see you. How others feel where you fit in the social hierarchy or ladder or group. This is very important because your place is determined by the rest. This is only important if you let it get to you. The line of social acceptability is where your self-confidence and outside perception meet. For example, if you look and act like a shy, timid person, and you feel shy AND other people think you are shy, then you’re somewhere at point A and you’re fine. Take point B: if you’re hot and pretty and you’ve got enough confidence to choke a mule then you’re good to go too. People associate how good you feel about yourself with how good you let them make you feel. Does that make sense to you?

Well anyway, way back when, I was labelled arrogant (in a private meeting, called by my “peers”) for being snobbish and proud. And at the time I didn’t like what they said. I was thinking that why shouldn’t I be proud of what I do. But I’ve sat through enough of these confrontations to know that talking back is useless and they won’t let you out till you agree solemnly. So I agreed. But later on, their words began to affect me. I became less social. I blended into the back ground to make way for those who other people wanted to see more.

Needless to say I don’t enjoy recalling all this but I think it’s important for anyone who reads this blog, myself included to realise how self-conscious I have become. I hate the fact that I have to dress to please people. I like the way I dress but I always keep the people I know in mind. Ok, I don’t want to blame those 7 or 8 high school people for “intervening” before I committed social suicide, but it makes me think. High school never really ends does it? I liked high school for the way it just sped by for me. I was always the observer and never the observed. I crave limelight and attention and that’s what’s killing me here and now. I know I can be better and I know I could do better but what’s stopping me? I have no clue.

At times I think I might need a therapist or someone but I give pretty good advice myself so I just try and pretend as if I were my own therapist. It comes from being a very self sufficient only child that talking to yourself is an accepted form of therapy. I’m not crazy, just extremely lonely. My best friend is and was around but I’d rather not burden other people with the trivialities of my own problems, unless dire intervention is required then I will call for help of whatever. Doesn’t happen often, but could if need be.

Also, my parents are not home for 3 days. That’s what triggered this bout of loneliness. Mum’s in Singapore. Dad’s in Penang. Best friend is in Bali with other friends. And Uni friends… well, not so close to them as to share intimate secrets – more of sharing of cake and other festive edibles. College friends are far and wide so that only leaves you dear blog. My online writing tablet. I don’t mind you sharing this with the whole world even if half of them think I’m crazy. Because I hope the other half will understand – and possibly prescribe me anti-depressants or something.

I actually think there is something wrong with me because I can be a happy camper. Around friends. But alone, I can seriously crash into lethargy. I neeeeed social contact and when that’s not afforded to me, I don’t know what to do. I was thinking about this till I feel asleep last night and to go to sleep thinking of this, is not pleasant.

I woke up this morning and I thought to myself, if I cut my wrists right now, no one would find out I’m gone for at least 2 days. A morbid thought but one I’m inclined to share with you. Well, I woke up looking at the pulsating vein in my right arm so the thought just came up. I do not relish the thought of suicide. I do not wish to take my own life. But for the lack of anything else better to do…. Just kidding. I would never go through with it. I wouldn’t even start. I love life too much. But like I said earlier. Quiet desperation. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it a secret. I don’t want to be like those other kids hopped up on pills to make themselves feel worthy. I don’t want to join the endless horde that need help to feel good about themselves. I just want to feel better about myself and I think it’ll all go away.

But enough talk on that. It’s a sad enough topic and it’ll run through my head all day anyway.

I don’t know how to end this post. I won’t say I’ve bared all because a girl’s gotta have some secrets. I needed to get this out and record this. I hope I don’t sound emo because this is real. And loneliness is real and. Yeah, I sound emo. I’m sorry. Well whatever, you choose to read this far. But the problem with post like these, is I may expect a comment. And it bums me out that people don’t leave them. So comments are a no go. No hope, no disappointment. I retract my trust; you guys haven’t earned it yet.

Blast victims from the forest

Say hello,

to my grandma:


SAY IT.

Ok. Good. My family and my grandma and I went to Genting Highlands a while back to watch this Mysteria magic show. Good entertainment and everything. Anyway, we spent most of our non-Mysteria time at First World Plaza – the hotel with like a shopping mall and an indoor theme park below it. All jolly good fun.

Anyway, around the fast food area (McDs and Burger King within 50 meters of each other! Actually they were on top of one another which is even weirder) there was this little stage thing and on the stage were the creepiest figures I could ever imagine.

It wasn’t part of the Ripley’s exhibit that was set up on the north wing nor was it part of the Ponitanak horror house. It was horrifyingly and terrifyingly part of an animatronic animal band designed to “entertain” small children.

(Distorted) Animal: Bear
No. of (terrifying) members: 5
(Useless) Instruments: Vocals, guitar, bass, keyboard, drums
Genre: (Creepy) Silence

What follows is an account of my impression of these “so-called” musicians.
Not advisable for small children or the faint of heart.

Bear #1


The Girl Bear

Yeah, they followed the traditional format and went with a female lead to draw in the crowds on horny 4-year olds that make up their demographic.
Puh-lease. She looks like Courtney Love after she forgot to shave. And evolve. She’s got a nose the size of the moon and I have the feeling that anything musical coming from her would not come out of her mouth (the other end maybe, but not the mouth). When they dug the bear remains out of the pit, they really should have spent more on trying to hide the bones than dressing them up (which failed miserably too).
Plus, she’s butt-UG-LEE. If you’re going to have a band of 4 guys and a girl, at least make one of them ok-looking. Anyway, they’re bears. Ugly bears, but that’s not my problem. Someone should petition the Bear Family and Children Council to stop in-breeding. It’s destroying their reputation.

Bear #2


The Lead Bear

And by lead, I mean lead – as in: lead the way over a cliff please.

First thing, bears don’t have opposable thumbs so how can he possibly hold a guitar. No way.
And second, what the heck kind of guitar is that? Yeah I know Martha Stewart was a great inspiration but even she would go out and BUY a guitar. Get some money and purchase one, buddy. Or better yet, I’ll give u mine – anything’s better that a box with strings.
Third, remove the owl. It’s not cute. It’s not anything. However, it is annoying.
And fourth, shut your trap! You’re not even singing! What are you? Part-time venus fly-trap? No one wants to smell your stanky bear breath! Go kill brain cells else where! Yuk.
Fifth. Dude. I may not be the best dresser in the world (well I am, but modesty forbids and all that), but I say lose the PJs. Striped overalls? Honey those are so 3 years ago.
Love from: Queer Hair for the Straight Bear. Muax muax etcetera.

P.S. Do you have your own eyeballs? I’m just guessing cos it doesn’t look like you have any.

Bear #3 and #4


Bass Bear and Keyboard Bear

Ok, so is he wearing underpants? They look like underpants but I’m not sure. I don’t really want to take a closer look. Go ahead if you want.
And I think the dude on the right had a face but it melted the camera lens. Either that or he’s part gorilla. Make that ALL gorilla.

Bear #5


Drummer Dude

ARGH! There’s a cross-dressing bear! Now there’s something you don’t see every day. It’s the pigtails that confuse me. Or ears. Or whatever. I detect metallic pants. Oh good grief, have these people no shame?!

Sigh. I wanted to finish this post today because I feel ashamed for the long time I haven’t posted. Forgive me blogging overlords, for I have failed you. [impales self on literary sword]

I'm such a bad daughter

Morning again.

Yesterday I forgot to do a graph my dad asked me to do. He needed it by this morning. He got pissed. He gave me that pissed-off glare. It's the morning. I don't give a shit.

He says: "Can you take the notebook to the office and do it there?" -Glare. Glare. Glare.-
I say: "Yeah. The file is in my email." Why are you still glaring? I said I'd do it.
He walks past to the shoe cupboard.
He says: "If you only would have done it yesterday…" -He trails off sentences a lot.-
I say: "I tried to teach you how to do it so many times!" - I do have a valid point. -
He says: "Fine! Never mind! Forget it!"

OK. It's NSOMY (No Skin Off My Nose).

He stalks out the front door.

Strange. Now he'll never get it done either way. Not the brightest thing he's ever done.

I do my dad's business graphs for him ever since he discovered that excel has the function and he stubbornly doesn't want to learn claiming that it's a waste of time. I don't see the logic but that's the kind of man my father is. Never wrong, always right.

I have a personal rule when it comes to my parents. Don't bite the hand that feeds you. It's worked quite well for me so far. I'm still living there and getting fed on a daily basis. I have shelter and water to drink. I'm sort of like a pet who, in the future, will look after my masters until their demise.

I don't care if it sounds morbid because there's really no other way of looking at it. As a single and only child, I have sole responsibility for the health and safety of the two most irritating people I know. Well, you cant choose family.

I've always threatened them with the though of sending them to a nursing home. The threat is quite real. I'm working towards getting a law degree and the natural progression from that is to be a lawyer. Lawyers in general don't really have much time to dote on senile seniors. Sad to say. I'm sure they can look after themselves but as my parents are quite stubborn about not having a maid I don't see what else I can do cept let educated professionals manage them.

Wow. That sounds cold. Even to me. I'm in a rather humourless mood now. Having an argument with my dad sucks the life outta a person.

Well back to the principle of biting feeding hands.

If my dad wanted me to do the graph, he should have let me take the notebook instead of glaring and mouthing off. He knows I had a valid point because if I didn't he would have retaliated. Then again, I do have to go to college today and I think he's sending me so he might just be waiting for revenge or something. I can take a cab, no problem then.

Dad doesn't like me taking cabs. I don't know whether he thinks they're expensive or dangerous but he objects to me taking them. I have no qualms about it. They get me from point A to point B. then I'm happy.

Bite. Hand. Feed. OK.

I depend on my parents and that thought alone really turns my stomach. I don't like to be dependent but out of necessity's sake I must. I'm not quite 18 but I don't really want to go out and work yet. I'll get my law degree first - a year here (KL) then 2 in the UK - and then I can go gallivanting off independently for a few years then return to do my daughterly duties.

My dad just want grandchildren so I don't know why he's letting me go off to England. The typical Chinese dream I guess: rich, wealthy and prosperous offspring who produce many babies. That's not so hard for my friends cos they got siblings. I have to encompass it all. I have to be all-encompassing. Stress-much?

Like I said before. I don't like being an only child. If I fail, the whole family line fails. I just might fail to spite them, although my own ego won't let me. Why do I care so much?

My A-level results are out to day by the way. Could this day get any better?

I will talk and you will shut-the-hell-up

On the way to work today, mum was driving the Saab down the highway and she started talking about a new client that we (by we I mean my parent's Company) recently got. The radio was on and it was just playing music when she started talking. Now my mother dearest has this strange habit of once she starts talking, she just can't stop herself. It wouldn't be so bad if she would talk about something other than work. And she's not that great of a storyteller wither. Very technical and too much detail to make it worth listening to.
Anyway, like I mentioned, the radio was on and just as we were approaching the tollbooth the radio announcer started talking again. It was pretty interesting I guess but I can't for the life of me remember what they were going on about. My mum paused in her "story". I'm thinking that she's is finished with her story. I am listening to the radio.

We go through the tollbooth.

I notice that there's a voice that sounds familiar in the car. It's not the radio. My mum is still talking.

That's the first creepy thing - although I shouldn't be surprised.

A second later I'm sitting stock still in shock. I realise that I completely zoned out my own mother.


Not like I know what's she's saying and just am not listening. That's normal. Usually if I'm in the car and she's talking I'll try and listen to the radio but because it's your mother you kind of are programmed to hear her voice above everything else. But this time it was different. I did not hear her at all, like she wasn't even there. And the weird thing was that I wasn't trying to zone her out but I was doing the normal thing and going "uh huh" and "yeh" at intervals. I completely fazed out and her voice wasn't even registering in my head. There wasn't anything interesting on the radio or anything going on around the car. Just me and mum and something just switched off.

Pretty scary.

I do tell my mum when she gets all talkative and stuff that it's not interesting to me but I guess she just wants someone to tell. I don't mind because I can pretend to listen and just hear the music instead. This time wasn't like that. Usually I hear both and my mum's voice cuts into the music and I just end up falling asleep (I wear sunglasses cos it's bright so she doesn't know).

I hope that doesn't happen during University class cos I can't control the zoning out thing. I might actually miss a whole lecture even tho I'm in attendance. And that would suck. A new meaning for there for nothing.

Most people want a shoulder to lean / cry on or a soundboard to talk to. I've learned that the best way to be sensitive and caring is just to shut up and listen. Most people are content to talk about themselves all day and night if need be. Even if you don't say anything substantial or clever, just listening is good enough to cement your status as a caring compassionate person. I'm not saying fake it to seem like a nicer person. You really have to try and listen and understand.

And don't interrupt. Interrupting is not only rude but it disrupts the other person's flow and that usually is quite irritating. Do onto others remember.

Unless the person wants your opinion then only should you give it to them. Your opinion, that is. And generally if they want your opinion, they'll ask you.
Examples:
"What's your opinion?"
"What do you think?"

So there really isn't any excuse to butt in uninvited. It's pretty clear cut when they want your help and when they want you to shut up.

I've figured that if people talk enough, they'll probably be able to sort themselves out. The only problem is finding someone to talk to and finding someone who'll listen for hours on end. Not to mention the ludicrously outrageous phone bill.

The last few paragraphs only apply to those serious conversations that you have with gal pals and stuff. Don't do this when you're all having fun down at the pub. They'll think you've got a stick shoved up your butt.


I don't mind listening to people. I'm used to it. I live with two very noisy, talkative people. I'm chatty by nature but sometimes too much for my own good. It's easy to talk all the time. More quantity than quality and hardly anyone hears you. It's much more a challenge to be a good listener. That's why women loves guys who listen. They are a dying breed. The gentlemen of old are no more.

Sigh.

If you are one, you know where to find me!

Run around screaming. It's theraputic.

I feel like shit. And not through any fault of my own. I just got scolded / yelled at by a client of the firm next door.
It’s rather a complicated situation but the lawyer who rents the office next door hasn’t been in for about 2 months and seeing as his secretary and the usual secretary for this firm I’m working for are both on maternity leave, I have to take all the calls for both firms. That shouldn’t be too bad really. The callers to this firm are ok. A little nuts and sometimes annoying, but normally placid. The callers for the lawyer next door are a little more aggro and pissed off. But that’s generally speaking. I think it’s more to do with the compound fact that he’s never in when they come looking for him.

The torrents of rage pouring from the telephone speaker seem harmless enough but I’m not the best at fielding angry and sad. I’m severely empathetic so it hits me harder than most people.

Empathetic


Verb
Sharing someone else's feelings or experiences by imagining what it would be like to be in their situation
ORIGIN: Greek empatheia, from pathos ‘feeling’.

It’s a gift. Or a curse. It’s really both. Depends on whom I’m with. Like if I’m with a happy person, then I generally feel happy. Although that’s usually the case anyway. A better example is when I’m talking to someone on the phone and even if I don’t know him or her that well I can tell if something is wrong. It’s only usually a sense of something’s off but if they were happy I probably wouldn’t have to figure that out. It proved quite useful during those dramatic high school years. I avoided quite a few minor fights thru that. I could tell when people were going to cry and I could avoid those people who seemed a little pms-y.

People will say that everyone can sense what people are like if they know how to analyse faces and tones and body language and all that but I’ve never read any books or considered posture or things like that. I can tell even if I can’t see their face or see them. It’s a sense of darkness or light. You feel it from within and there is n o reason for you to feel that way. Of course, you have to be open and receptive to emotions. What I mean is that you can’t be overwhelmed by your own feelings in order to empathise with other people. If you are deliriously happy or depressingly sad the reception on you empathy antenna is fuzzy and you don’t feel other people as much. However, there are times when I am really sad or happy and other people pass by and I feel like a tingle inside and the feelings are mixed up. It’s quite hard to explain. It emanates from the same place where you feel love and sadness – I take that example because I assume everyone’s felt intense love or longing (not lust. That’s a whole different place!) at least once before. Whether it’s for a new puppy or a dying relative. It’s just glows or hurts from inside.

I don’t claim to have ESP or detract from true psychic powers – I sort of believe in that – but it’s just a really strange connection I have with people. The weird thing is that most people – most people I know – like people watching. You know, where you sit in a café or by a window and watch people go by. You analyse them and wonder what they are thinking and so on. I don’t particularly like people-watching. Not because of the empathy thing although that does prove miraculously cool sometimes. It’s more that I get bored of wondering what other people are thinking. I’d rather find out what I think about.

People consider others too much. I know we are a sociable species and we need other humans around to be sane and stuff. We can’t be like the lone tiger or any other animal that wanders off alone all the time. But I think the world would be a far better place if we stopped trying to figure out what other people want and are thinking and spend a bit more time on why we are the way we are. Why are we a sociable species? Why do we sit down when we go take a dump? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. What if we were the opposite reaction? What was the initial reaction? Did the Earth decide that it needed fewer trees? Strange how Gaia works.

Well enough of the mumbo jumbo. I’m honestly not feeling to pleasant since being hit by that angry woman’s phone call. There isn’t anyone in the office at the moment so left alone by myself and I don’t know if I can crawl out of this pit I’ve dug. Sigh. Such an emo post. It really makes me ill.

I don’t get emo people. Are you really sad? Why are you sad? Why don’t people understand you? Is it because there is no reason for you to be sad? Maybe you’re just sad in a different sense. Being happy is a feeling you should enjoy. At least you can control that. Maybe if you all stop wearing black and thinking that you’d rather be dead, you’d be slightly happier? Being sad isn’t cool and just because there are a lot of you out there doesn’t make being emo popular.

I think that’s what we all strive for in the end. To be popular. To be liked. That’s why people adore money. Because having money makes you popular. And being pretty too. I, not holding a degree in psychology, reckon Freud was spot on when he said that everything we do is because of sex. Or some words to that effect. Animals in the “wild” can be dormant and useless for year or decades until mating season comes along and they all horde round like the horny beasts that they are. For example, the male black widow spider dies soon after copulation. Their purpose on this planet is to reproduce and continue the species. I don’t see what makes us so special that we should be any different. The majority of humans on earth are planning and / or have reproduced. The remaining few are just sidetracked by other things, or are unable to further the species. For whatever reason. I think being ugly is nature’s way of cutting back the population boom. But you have to admit that the Homo sapiens species has been very prolific in the last several centuries. When (and we will when the sun explodes or something) we die out, aliens from other planets will examine our bones and conclude that we were a very stupid and selfish species who didn’t know when to quit. But that’s just a theory. But you heard it here first.

Anyway, the point is that if you want to be popular, fine. That’s totally natural. Being purposely sad is stupid. Humans love sex. Live to be popular, happy and horny. That’s what you are here for. Go forth and multiply!

You are now under a rest stop. Ouch.

The time is now 10.45am, Monday morning. The other 3 people who work here have yet to appear, if at all. But I'm not complaining. I don't have a tough job and the mornings here are specially designed for me to fight off the Monday morning blues. Or rather the morning rage. Really hate mornings. I know some people don't like waking up early but I take it to a totally new level. I really detest mornings. Like if something goes amiss in the morning, I can be grumpy for hours. Like if my dad asks me what I want for breakfast more than twice, I start fuming. I know he's trying to be nice but it just really gets under my skin, especially in the morning.

I guess by now you could call me a brat, but it comes with the territory of being an only child. And no, I'm not spoiled. There is actually a separation of being, rich, spoiled and a brat. Rich is rich - wealthy in a sense. Spoiled is getting what you want when you want it - i.e. not me. And brat is like young attention-seeking kid. Ok, there is some overlap I guess but I swear I'm not spoiled.

Anyway, a lot of people (especially those with bros and sistas) are like

"I wish I were an only child. You are so lucky!"

Riiight. You want to be perpetually lonely and psychologically neglected? But it's not all that bad. So in repentance for my ungrateful complaining all these years, I will proceed to list out the things I have won over the years. The two have nothing to do with one another but I needed an intro to the topic and nothing came to mind, so I went with the flow.

Note, that the following are things that I have won in contests and are not part because I worked hard for them or deserved them in anyway.

Piggy

When I was about 6 or 7 (I was in the UK then), I went with my mum to Children's World in Croydon or somewhere thereabouts and there was a booth set up by the British Rail outside the store (the store is huge by the way. The booth was in the car park bit outside).
I was quite the nerd then (by nerd I mean I liked to learn. Which makes me a nerd to this day) so the talk that the British Rail gave at my school a week before was still bouncing around in my head. I was intrigued so I went up to the stall and chatted to the guy behind the counter and I pointed out the different trains to my parents and it was all so cute. Then the guy pointed to a stack of paper on the table and said that the British Rail was having a competition or something. I filled out the form / entry thing and handed it back to the guy - if it was a contest it was really easy; all the answers were on the booth. Like pasted on the uprights and all over the place. So I figured it was just an educational thing to interest little kids and I went into the store with mum. I don't remember if dad was there but I think he was.

Fast forward to about a month or two later. By now the BR contest has faded away and archived in my brain. Friday is Assembly day for the whole school so about 220 students in the Hall (an all-girls school, one class per year. Really titchy but cosy). The usual announcements go on as usual. Then the head mistress mentions something about British Rail but I take no notice. I think I was playing with my shoelace or something. "Contest", "prize", "Sara Lim!" Say WHAT? I'm stunned and pleasantly pleased. This is so cool. There was a huge beanbag neon pink pig up on stage next to the headmistress. I was thinking that it was pretty cool when I first saw it but I didn't think I'd be able to take it home.
First thought Wow! I won! A pig! Its neon pink. Niiiice… or something to that effect.
Second thought How am I going to lug this home?

I was always a practical child.

The pig was stored in the head mistress' office till it was time to go home so that was my pig problem solved. Without saying, mum and dad were shocked and pleased and I was squished into the backseat of the car with the pink, fat pig (who I later christened Piggy). I hugged him all the way home (don't ask me how I knew it was a boy. You just know these things intuitively).

You may argue that I did "work" and "earn" Piggy but honestly it was no sweat at all. I mean the answers were right in front of you! You must be really fried in the head to not find the answers. Oh, and I also won a 10 pound voucher to ride on British Railways. And a certificate and stuff like that. I never used the voucher and it's still stored in my file at home. Its obviously expired but since Piggy has gone (in storage I think, due to his nostrils falling off), it's the only reminder I have of that day. At least I have proof to show to my kids,

"Look, Mum won a pig once!"

The Dull Ages

No more free wins for a few years till I came to Malaysia. I did win things, just not without effort - like gymnastic competitions and poetry recitals. They don't count in this list.

Mtv is good to me

I had never seen Mtv till Astro in Malaysia. In the UK I was exposed to Take That and Boyzone but I was 7 and didn't really care. Then Mtv made things interesting. Donita Rose was the hostess with the most-est; not because she was pretty but because she was good. The VJs can't hold a candle to her. Channel [V] VJs are pretty good but they're either pretty or sexy. None have a really strong personality - save Paula who can hold her own, I'll give you that.
Anyway, Mtv don't only play music videos they also give out things for free. Good for the viewers, dontcha think?

If you've been watching Mtv for the last few months, you'll know about the Mtv Whatever Things, which is like a tamer, lamer (haha!) version of Jackass. When they first introduced the show, they asked viewers to log onto the website and submit three music videos that would go with the stupid prank / stunt that was online. I did as such - I had loads of ideas. I mean just pick the music videos that parody other videos. Simple, easy and funny too. I won (yeah duh) and got the September slot (one winner a month). They ask you to send in pics and my oogly mug was on Mtv for a whole month (in sporadic spots). Prize? Whatever Things was (and still is) sponsored by Philips so you got a choice of either a camera phone or a 128MB MP3 player. I picked the MP3 player and waited gleefully for it to arrive.


5 months ticked by and still no word. I actually forgot till my dad reminded me. I emailed the guy who emailed me to tell me I had won. He said they would send it and I passed his email to my dad who I think sent some more emails - I don't know if they were friendly or not but it wasn't my fault they were 5 months late. I also emails the Philips office people / person and told them about it and they contacted what's-his-name and eventually they sent the stuff.

Whatever my dad had written in his correspondence paid off because they actually sent us both prizes! The phone and the MP3 player! Wicked! But the phone sucked and my mum said I was responsible enough for a colour-camera phone so she took it and used it. And to be honest, the phone sucked. It was one out of Philip's first line of phones so it was slow and the camera was an external attachment and the colour sucked. Mum ended up dropping it in the loo. It was clean and the phone dried out. Philips claimed that the phone (new) was worth RM600+. When we traded it in, it was worth a little over RM100. poor worthless phone. The MP3 player still works which shows that Philips should steer clear of phones and stick to their audiovisual stuff. The only bug with the MP3 player (it's almost 9 years old) is that you have to keep the external AAA battery connected or it won't run. I think the internal battery is fired but other than that it works like a charm.

I liked this prize the best of all.

More Tusic Melevision

Entered a Gorillaz competition (online. I don't bother calling in or whatnot). Caption a picture. Won a white T-shirt. Very nice "Don't Worship False Idols" on the front and composite face and hat thing on the back. Apparently it's their promo thing.

That present was fun to receive. I had no idea what it was going to be.

Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away

Fly Fm is a new radio station in KL (well KLIA, if you can still consider that KL). Nice music even if it is constantly repetitive. DJs are ok cept for Jules who has an annoying voice (sorry, I did like you in the beginning but you grated my nerves once to many times) and Shel needs to breathe more and talk less. It's not a race honey. No one's going to steal your airtime.

Anyway on their website (like I said, I don't do call ins), there is this competition called "Play It Back" where they have a (flash) audio clip and its been played backwards. It's really easy to figure out the song. I wont give away the technique but let's say it involves a microphone and the sound recorder. I don't remember if there was a slogan involved but it wasn't like a major mental strain.

Prize was worth RM800! Woohoo! What was it? Eight hundred ringgit! Woohoo! Got the dispatch service (from my parent's Company; not my personal one. Duh.) to go and get it. Mwahahah! I'd never won money before!

Oh wait. I just did.


So far that's all I've gotten FOC. I did get some free CDs and T-shirts and stuff while I was working at Xfresh but I had to work all the while so that doesn't count either.

Getting free stuff is awesome but there is a downside to it. It's addictive. Once you start you have to keep getting free stuff or you get cranky. It's life-changing experience. It takes over you. You have no control. Some advice: don't start winning stuff. Keep pure and gift free. As for me? I'm caught in the endless loop that compels me to receive free things and I don't think I'll ever escape. Save yourself!

Why? Oh, the pain! The agony! Oh, shuttup.

Apologies to those wondering why I missed yesterday’s post (not that I have to post everyday but I feel kinda bad not doing so, you know?). My grandma came over to stay a couple of nights (sat and sun) and she took over the study / guest room so the computer was off limits till she went back home. The same grandma that’s part hakka if you’re wondering about that too.

I can’t do any productive work at home – be it studying or recreational stuff like blog posts. There are just too many distractions on this computer. There is the relatively fast internet connections and RAM speed (relative to work) and all the programs that I have on it – torrent loaders and music etc. not a really condusive environment for creative thinking.

Anyway, because I couldn’t blog yesterday, I’ll fill in today’s quota with an extra special post. It’s a post about why I/people blog. Ok, so it’s not that extra special but it might turn out to be. You’ll just have to read on and find out!

Why? Reason #1

I was thinking about this the other day and I guess the main reason I blog is because I want to write a diary but I’m too lazy to actually put pen to paper. I’d rather type. Better I get sore fingertips than hard calluses on my middle finger. And I do enough writing (or I will do) at college / university. It’s not the superficial aspect of calluses that annoys me but it really hurts and it’s tender and sore; and you don’t really appreciate the use of the side of your middle finger until you can’t use it any more. Like… trying to write something important. Ok, so that wasn’t the best simile in the world but you get my drift.


Plus with pen and paper there’s the issue of storage. I did keep a diary once and I wrote all my innermost secrets and feelings etc. all the usual mumbo jumbo that you’ll find between the covers of an adolescent teenager’s diary. I was quite happy with it. But then I ran out of pages. I wanted to buy a new one. Problem: where to keep the old one? I didn’t want anyone to find it – anyone being mum and dad (no siblings. More about that later). Mostly private boy stuff and details about crushes and embarrassingly cutesy things. Anyway, I didn’t want to throw it away and I was so paranoid that I didn’t even buy a new one for fear that if they found the old diary (jinkies!), that they would also find the new one (double jinkies!)! So that was the end of the diary era.

Yes, yes. I know an online freely-accessible blog is no private hiding place but since the diary thing I just really don’t care what people think about what I think. First of all they can’t really do anything about what I write, like if it offends them.

“OMG Sara. You wrote such mean things about me! You’re gonna pay!”
“O…k. What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna show it to…um. I’m gonna tell!”
“Ok.”

See, the threat of “telling” doesn’t work anymore. Nothing’s private nowadays with super surveillance and such. I seriously don’t bother what people are going to say about my blog because there are going to be those who like it and those who don’t. There is an example a few posts back where someone posted a comment and I got really riled up and replied and we had this comment war thing. I should had taken it as criticism in the lightest form but it touched a nerve but I guess the moral is that people have their own opinions and you can’t force your opinion on other people. I don’t write to persuade. I write to entertain and inform. There is a difference (I learned all that in English class).

Ok, I’m digressing... I must remember to cover that opinion thing at a later date, but now is neither the time nor the place for it. I’m in the middle of a post for goodness sake!

So where was I?

Why? Reason #2

I like pretty colours. In a diary you can’t really scrawl doodles all over the page because you can’t read the writing on it afterwards. I’m a fond fan of doodles and the incapacity of diaries to support ink-penned doodles annoyed me to no end. You’ll find my earlier works filled with weird doodles around the edges. Plus I’m not that great an artist (nope, not great at all) so what looks like a scribble is actually my rendering of my foot or a bird of something. So the artwork is lacking.

On the internet I can add pictures and mess with the colours and make people go “wow” with my superb html skills (I wish). It’s all quite simple and there are an infinite number of colours one can choose from. There is so much more to learn but it’s gradual and learning new stuff is always more enjoyable if you see your results first hand.

Why? Reason #3

When I was keeping my diary, I never let it see the light of day, literally. No one but me saw it and that was only at night. It was private and personal and not just because of what was in it. I was afraid of what people might say. People who knew me. People I had written about and commented / criticized / satirized. It was a personal danger that hovered over my pretty little head.

Now I have an audience of infinite proportions. And to say the least, the posts are considerably less personal but if you knew me well enough you wouldn’t need three guesses to figure out who a certain post was aimed at. I think at least 2 posts are targeted to specific people. I wasn’t mad enough to put their names down but heaven mark the day that I do. All fury will be unleashed. But that’s not today.
Today, I enjoy the pleasant anonymity of receiving comments from people half way around the world. I like an audience who have no clue who I am but still enjoy the words I write. It’s like an affirmation that I actually have a personality. Two thumbs up!

Why? Reason #4

I can write any where and anytime I want, provided I have a computer. My html formatting is not overly complex and I can write the tags easily from memory although I do get help from various html tutorials.


No more remembering topics to discuss till late at night and putting a strain on my already maxed out brain power. It’s much calmer this way.

Why? Reason #5

Ok, there is a teeny tiny bit of arrogance in writing a blog. I call it arrogance because you are writing an article, a personal article and you expect people to read it. Even though the author may say that if no one reads it, it’s ok, but then why put it up on the internet in the first place? Why not just save it as a word file and store it away on your hard drive? Because of the swelling of the ego that comes with letting the world (the world. You heard right. This is the internet for Pete’s sake. It’s huge!) know what you think. It’s like the shortcut to being heard – like Ghandi with a loudspeaker. I bet if Ghandi were around in this era he’d have a blog and a website and several online petitions as well as a few chain mails to spite the government. But that’s the point. Nowadays anyone can be heard. And you can hear them. You just need the right address to go to.

If you have your own blog, you’ll know what I’m talking about. There is only so much you can do with pen and paper and lonely so long you can hide it. You could hide a diary online too – some of my friends lock their blogs – but I think that kind of defeats the purpose.

I enjoy blogs. The freedom to express. The colours. The pictures. The html fun you can have. The global response. It’s all appreciated, thank you.

I don’t and won’t apologise for any posts by the way. I know some bloggers say that if you don’t like my posts, don’t read. This may be out of desperation for more readers of something but even if you don’t like my posts, please read. It never helps to be closed-minded and if you let me know what you think about me or my blog, in a way that helps me too. Take the good with the bad with a pinch of salt.

Can't drink cold drinks

Mum was late getting up today so instead of letting me be late (I don't mind) for work, she drove like a bat out of hell down the highway. I had to tell her a few times that it was generally ok to be a few minutes late to work seeing as I'm always the first one in and no one ever calls at 9 am in the morning. I mean, some people do. Some do but they're usually wrong numbers.


Anyway, got to work on time-ish. Breakfast as usual.

Mum's driving is actually quite horrendous. I mean, not accident-causing but sort of vomit inducing if you get motion sick a lot. A lot of jerky acceleration and kind of not looking where she's going sometimes. Like when she drove out of the parking space this morning - she has to drive out because there's a pillar right next to the passenger side door so I can't get in - she stopped the car to let me get in. Hand brake. Check. Gear. Check. Wait. Not quite. She actually put the car in reverse and the hand brake wasn't completely down so the car sort of rolled backwards. Bit scary I suppose but I'm not a morning person so it didn't register as scary, just like a Huh? in my groggy state of mind. Nonchalant but mum was acting all anxious the whole morning because she (and my whole family) hates to be late so it's like an "Oh no I can NOT be late!" panic response.

I'm generally not a panicky person. More of a laid back, if-it-happens-it-happens kind of gal. Its one of those nature-nurture things I think. Both my parents are high-strung type people who get stressed over being late and traffic jams and not being able to find parking the first time round. I'm more of the opposite. If I'm late, I'm already late so a few extra late minutes wont hurt (I hope. So far my bosses have been nice people and I'm rarely late if ever). Traffic jams are unavoidable and you're there already so enjoy it I guess. Pop some hard rock in the CD player and enjoy annoying the people around. Heh. Yeah, I'm one of those people.


One thing I guess would bug me is the parking thing. I don't drive but I know its annoying if you go round and round a parking lot for ages and the guy who just came in finds a parking space like right away. It's lucky for them. But it sucks.

Like I mentioned earlier, it's a nature-nurture thing because by right, I should be high-strung and constantly stressed. But I'm not.

How come, you ask? Because I see my parents like this almost all (well some of) the time so I just decided I don't want to be like that. When they fret, I just stare at the wall and breathe. Breathing is very important in life, if I have to remind you. Distress, y'all! Anyway, some other differences:

Roller coasters
I like 'em, Mum and Dad don't. They say I follow my grandma (dad's mum) in that way. Sort of annoying because I thought I was unique and now I'm just like my chubby grandma. Anyway, they say that because I'm brave and can take high speeds and em… I have that tough stuff. My grandma's part hakka, which according to dad, are a tough breed so that's a compliment of sorts. My grandma's pretty hardy so it isn't all bad. I like extreme things like I want to go skydiving and bungee jumping and go rock climbing (which you can't in KL because we don't have decent rocks). I could go to Batu Caves and climb there but I have no one to go with. I should ask Shaun about that…

Food
My dad likes a lot. My mum doesn't eat much. I'm sort of in the middle. It's not opposite but sort a combo of both. I enjoy my food (like dad) but I don't eat that much (like mum). But it really depends on what the food is. But the reason I'm a combo of both is because I don't want to end up looking like either (though I must admit, my mum has nice legs. Not in that pervy way, but they're slim and longer than mine). Dad is fat so I don't eat as much as him cos duh I don't want to be fat. And mum sort of looks miserable at dinner because it's never nice eating your own food and even eating out she doesn't eat a lot because she has a small stomach. And no she doesn't have an eating disorder, just a distaste for gluttony. So I eat just enough to enjoy my food but not to end up looking like a hippo with jaundice.

There are surely a few others but I can't remember them at the moment. Maybe I'll mention them at the end of the post if/when I remember them.

Anyway the point of this post to show that if you are exposed to a certain influence, environmental or otherwise (what is the otherwise?), you either choose to follow the example set or go the totally opposite way and do your own thing.
Example: Vegetarian family. Two kids. One kid is a vegetarian. One kid eats like normal food. Meat and veggies and etc. Doesn't seem different but the kid who eats meat will probably enjoy and therefore eat more meat than your average omnivorous family kid. Opposites repel, you see?

But if there are no environmental factors, then nature takes over and suddenly you find yourself eating raw meat wearing a loin skin. So save the environment! Or you'll turn into Fred Flintstone!

Good Ideas with Bad Timing

Why do all the really good ideas come at the most inconvenient times? Like when I'm on the loo or having a shower. I suppose it's because there's nothing to distract me from thinking up really good ideas - like blog posts and world-changing inventions.


Its so infuriating, especially when I'm washing my hair because I know from experience that even if I remember my idea after I've finished my shower, I still have to dry off and get dressed and put that hair stuff my mum bought. And usually by that time I can't be bothered to do anything about the idea (I'm really good at procrastinating) or I just forget what the wonderful thought was - and there goes my chance to shine.


There are a lot of topics I have thought about covering in this blog, like period pains and how condusive pain is to creative writing. And this is real pain I'm talking about, not that wimpy emo crap. Anyway, that's a story for another time.

Another thing, why do the ideas come at night, JUST after I get to bed and try to fall asleep? Its so infuriating, it's like my own brain is trying to keep me awake and not sleep even though I'm dead tired. Sometimes I get up to write it down thinking that once I get it out of my head I can finally rest, but no. Then I start dissecting the topic and thinking of the different sections I can split it up to etc. and then the next day, I'll look at the piece of paper and be too lazy to put anything solid on paper or type it out. Sigh. That's me for you.


Maybe one day I'll actually have the incentive and motivation to move my ass and share with the world my great ideas. Maybe I'll become a famous writer or journalist? If I can overcome my procrastination and laziness and stuff. Yeah. IF. I don't know. My ideas don't have a real structure to them anyway. I guess I could be bothered to format it if anyone apart from me actually read the damn posts. So far all I've got a bloody spammers. Goddamn them! Hmm.. an idea for another post…

By the way, if anyone does actually want to know what this blog gets updated - it could be tomorrow, it could be a few months - then… email me I guess. I recommend not putting your email in the comments section or the tagboard coz unscrupulous spammers may steal them and spam you to death. I generally don't mind spammers as long as they don't get personal and don't chase away any of my loyal (but small) legion of fans.

Annoying Song of the Day - Nick Latchkey

Ok, I'll give him the benefit of having a decent voice and being in a marginally and now defunct boy band, but goddamn it man! Can't the aliens in Hollywood do anything without making money? I mean, you're supposed to be getting divorced! It's supposed to be sad. You're not supposed to sing about it. But that's not my main grievance. The thing that rubbing me the wrong way is the song.

Nick Lachey:

"What's Left of Me"
is nothing but an empty shell. Jessica. Loved you. You were wrong. I am successful! I can make money! But out of misery and pity from sappy consumers! Help me denizens of love-ballad-land! Buy my album my pretties! Yess! Mwahahah! They're falling for it! Mwahahaha! And yet another evil laugh: mwahahahah!

It has no meaning. And even if the song did have a meaning, it sort of means what it doesn't mean. If you know what I mean.


Explanation
"You can have what's left of me" blah blah. I forget the lyrics already (and I was just on the radio). From what I can make out, the song is a call to Jessica (his ex-wifey-poochie-kin-pie) to take what she left him with because he's nothing without her. Hmmmm. Lets see. You divorced her (or visa-versa. Whatever) and now you want her to take the other half of your heart and soul seeing as she took the other half which you gave to her. Do you love her or not, man?! Make up your mind!

Anyway, it's a ballad and as far as ballads go, this is one hurts. Like how it hurts when you bang your head against a table every time you hear it. It makes no sense. Its sole purpose is to make you cry for a rich biatch and his Mtv girlfriend so he can go and drink more Crystal paid for by the money you shell out to buy his weepy album. Take my advice, you want pain and sorrow, go watch adults try to be cool. It's a lot cheaper and it'll make you shake your head and weep tears of frustration as you watch their fruitless failed attempts to worm their way into cool crowd. Sorry to tell you this guys, that boat has sailed.

***

Genre: Wimpy Ballad

SSR (Sara's Song Rating):

We are The World

But more notably, we are stupid. As a nation. Everyone knows that the education system in Malaysia is sub-par. But I think the main thing is that we lack common sense. However I don’t think we’re any more stupid than any other country. We’re just more transparent about it. Take for example this Darwin Award: Rocketing to Glory. It’s not that we deliberately do stupid things, but we let stupid things happen. Yeah, that justifies it. And yet on the same site:

Short & Sweet
2000 Darwin Award Nominee

"Something strange is happening to Malaysia executioners manning the gallows. Three people in the last two years have accidentally hanged themselves while clowning around. The most recent mishap occurred when the executioner prepared for an upcoming sentence and slipped the noose around his neck. Apparently he wanted pictures taken of himself standing on the gallows when the trap door gave way, breaking his neck instantly. "
29 November 2000 Bizarre News, Kuala Lumpur Malaysia

We love to laugh at stupid people. It makes us (well, me specifically) seem less stupid. But there is some merit to that old adage of ignorance is bliss.

Ignorance is not the equilivalnt of being stupid because being stupid is a… natural thing. Whereas being ignorant is a choice. One could say that its sort of similar to being gay or being bi. Being gay is a life-thing. Whereas being bi is a choice and only irritating sluts are bi. So there. I’ve said it.

Anyway, being ignorant. It’s less stressful. It’s less weight on your shoulders. I’ve tried it. It’s actually quite refreshing. Like being an airhead if you don’t mind that kind of thing. It’s only stressful to the knowledgeable people who get frustrated when they see you so relaxed and not worrying about problems that are occurring thousands of miles away. I know a few people like that. Just watching them makes me think that they are gonna get a heart attack at 40. You know the type. The world-savvy people who read TIME and talk constantly about how if they were so-and-so, how they would fix things. Enough talking already people. Time for action!

It’s actually time for lunch now but seeing as the only other person in the office is holed up in HER office. I don’t really want to go downstairs alone because of the – creepy people. Fly Fm is repetitive. Very repetitive. Very repetitive. Very repetitive.

Got work to do. Looking up cases. It’s not as bad as you think cept I’m a tad hungry so this may be a stretch for me. Work usually comes in like a flood after lunch. Problem is that after lunch you get sleepy. What a way to work.

Another day, more blood is spilled

I would love to write my blog posts on notepad. The simple simplicity of not having any format. No toolbars at the top to distract from the very important words that pour out from my talented fingertips.

Sleep and work distract me from finishing this post properly.

Doctors have the worst handwriting. It’s almost like an insult. Like they want to show off that they are so smart and so busy that they just don’t have time to write legibly. Who cares about legibility when you get a chance to play GOD? Not that doctors claim they play God. Course not. That's blasphemous. Although the abundance of doctors who lack in the proper grammar skills is shocking.

Air-conditioned air wafts gradually downwards towards my table, luring my eyelids closed. The sir is dry and arid and cold. The tiny green light indicating that it’s time to slumber. At my desk. Which is perfectly acceptable provided I have no work to do.

The lack of pictures provided on this blog is starting to worry me. I always found blogs with pictures so much more entertaining and now my blog is barren of all colour save that of the text on the screen and my hideous, gloomy portrait to the right.

My mind drifts next door. Not physically. The co-joined office on the right is dark and unused. The owner. We’ll call him Mr. Paul. The owner has been absent for almost a month. There are no visible signs of struggle but something sinister lingers in the air. Yet somehow, every morning I find messages from Mr. Paul instructing me to send out letters and type out documents. It might be a sign. A code. A clue. It might also be work he’s setting me seeing as his secretary is on maternity leave.

The rubbish bin overflows with rubbish like a container that can hold no more. The lid is ajar and the contents within are given a peek of freedom. Do they wish to escape? Into this cruel harsh world where lawyers disappear and women are pregnant. If I were them I would stay safe. Safe within the plastic bin liner walls. Waiting for the cleaning lady to take me out. But out where?

Work. Play. NOW

As I sit by myself at the desk, I look around. The absence of windows makes it impossible to discern morning from night. Dusk from dawn. Hell, I don’t even know when it rains.

The yellow-beige striped wallpaper stares forlornly back at me as it surrounds me in a cheerful array of alternating colour. I suppose its better than the glare of plain white. Which is better than nothing I guess. The great thing about striped wallpaper is how it goes around edges. And I’m not talking about straight edges either. I mean like the concrete supports that stick out from the ceiling. The wallpaper wraps it’s self around it like a fat kid around a lollipop. But that’s fatist. I love lollipops as much as the next lollipop-loving person out there – fat or thin. But I’m getting away from the topic at hand.

I see a glimpse of green and maroon in the form of books to my north-west. The gold inscription is repetitive but at least I have some glitter throughout the day.

The chair is flat. Flat like a pregnant woman sat on it. Which it has been. No, not me. I’m not pregnant, you gossipmongers. My colleague, Vivian, is. Almost 4 months next week she tells me with a smile. It’s a nice thing to have I suppose. A tiny human parasite inside you. I like babies. They are cute.

The gaudy red three-seater faux-leather couch sits half in and half out of the florescent lighting. The material as pristine as the day it was bought. But that’s not saying much. The essence of thousands of buxom-bottom imprints remain lurking deep within the foam below. But it does make a somewhat comfortable resting place. Just hope it won’t be my last.

The matching armchair in the corner of the room watches the door like a hawk. Well, more like an armchair. It wait and guards unblinkingly. Mostly because it doesn’t have eyelids. Because it doesn’t have eyes. It’s a strange paradox one feels when trapped in the gaze of an eyeless armchair. Strange, but creepy.

The phone remains silent. For now.