i passed

driving self-prep

oh god. oh god. oh god.

i just remembered.

my driving test is 8 hours away.

oh god i think i'll fail.

my main problem: my sense of direction sucks.

Jalan C, Jalan G, Jalan F,

meaningless to my stupid brain.

which is the one where i turn left?

oh god. i don't remember.

when i don't know where i have to go,

i forget to signal,

i forget to slow down,

i brake abruptly,

i freaking ask,

i don't look where i'm supposed to look.

four mistakes, and i'm out.

i think i can make a lot.

and today, i think my engine died

three times.

once in the middle of town.

die lah die.

okay. pause. calm down.

let's visualise.

C - turn left, and turn left at that tight three-way corner you use to go to school through. go to wherever. as long as you go pass the hospital. turn into the road on the way to Convent. turn left at the traffic lights. then just go straight pass the High Court. then you're rosy.

G - like C, turn left. at the tight three-way corner, go straight. traffic lights, turn left pass prison zebra crossing. at that stupid place full of trees, when you see the zoo signboard, turn right. pass New Club. careful of that bloody place where you have to stop although there aint no stop sign. go pass TMGS. go to that freaking place with construction barriers. then, i dunno. it's town already. turn at Bee Poh, i think? i dunno. as long as you get back to Lake Gardens.

F - turn right. this road is easy. bla the bla. you should pass War Cemetary, that place with sharp turn, narrow road, lots of cars. er. i don't remember. after some time, will reach the prison traffic lights. left. zebra crossing. go to town. left. left. High Court. done.

wow. that was so helpful.

in short. 

C - hospital, Convent. 

G - New Club, TMGS. 

F - Left and a little bit of town.

remember:

signal!

change from 1 - 2 - 3 quickly

get clutch ready in town. never know when to brake.

change to 1st gear immediately after stopping

get the Bukit maneuvre ready at slightly sloping stops

don't get lost

taking a breather

There! I've posted the paper-stuff I need to post! Phew! Glad it's over. I think I did a passable job, so no worries on my part. Thanks KayJay for your help. Couldn't have done it without you. Thanks Ron for the IntSupp revelation. Thanks Bugger for distracting me.

And especially, thanks to my partner-in-crime for your very very special letter :) you may disagree, but I think it is absolutely awesome! I owe you a million. When I read it, I have this crazy urge to read the Blue Book with you again, like how we used to in school. Haih.. The good old days..

Now to start writing my essays...

total mood change

Be honest. My red glasses are extremely lala and she (yes, it's a she) screams "give me attention!". Right? Right. All of you just kept that opinion to yourselves because I was so obviously infatuated with her. I still am! I still think she's cool in a crazy no-one-in-their-right-mind-will-ever-buy-this kinda way. But when I stare at her long enough, she does look very lala and pretentious. Amy, my dear roomie, if you ever read this, I bet you'd agree :P

My red glasses are so eye-catching. Friends who see me wearing her for the first time insist I take her off so that they can see. And when they see, there is this expression of wtf-i-would-never-be-caught-dead-in-these kinda look on their faces. Which was one of the reasons i bought her :D yes my red glasses are cool! In a daring lala kind of way.

So why am I talking about my red glasses 5 months after I bought her?

Because I bought another pair :D :D :D

YESH I AM MATERIALISTIC. SUE ME.

So, the new pair of glasses... Hmmm..

He's very different from her. Black, with a hint of chrome. Half-frame. Sleek. Understated. Solid. Balanced.

And yes. Nerdy.

Oooooh I like him. If I see any guy wearing him, I'd be smitten for sure. Because any guy wearing him will look like a nerd. A hot nerd. Which is cool :D of course, I phail in the Hot Department but I definitely look nerdy. Which is good whenever I want to pwn people into thinking I'm smart :P

Forgive me my hiau-ness. I am sadly deprived of craziness and horniness, my ground state of being.

another rant

how can anyone be so stupid? don't you check what you put inside an envelope you're going to mail? are you blind? oh wait. i think i know. you were busy playing your stupid cat-bowling-toddler-worthy game, weren't you? you were concentrating on getting a strike while you chuck documents that happen to be instrumental in other people's hopes and dreams. but they're not your hopes and dreams, aren't they? you hope to get a turkey for your stupid bowling game. you dream of getting laid by that guy in your photo frame. you don't freaking care. that piece of paper is worthless to you. so you don't bother checking the bloody envelope.

i went all the way to KL for that piece of paper. 3 hours journey. petrol. toll. and precious precious time. i went there a day earlier, so that i can get there in time.

and when i go there 20 minutes before lunch break, you're already out.

i come back 3 hours later, there you are. sleeping on your desk. i wake you up. i ask you nicely for my piece of paper. you hand me a file and told me to look for it. i looked. it wasn't there.

'Kalau takde, takde lah." you said. and turned to your computer. i thought you were going to check some records or something. but no. you start playing your mindless bowling game.

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

i refuse to deal with you, bitch. give me your superior's number. i told you. politely. of course you had to give me her number. i was polite. but trust me. in my head, i wanted to bang your head on your fucking keyboard until your sutures surrender.

your superior came. she, at least, bothered to check her records. i did file for my paper. it was signed and ready. but it's not there. wtf happened to it then? your superior made you search your table. i helped you turn it upside down. it's still not there. and even with your superior there, looking up and down your desk, you didn't turn off your computer. there it was, proudly displayed to the world, your score for cat bowling.

fine. i attempt plan B. asked how to get another piece of paper. consulted your superior. formed a plan. but after what i went through, i seriously doubt the way you do your job. if you can lose it once, you can lose it again. but i have no choice. plan B then.

the harrowing experience wore me thin. i was close to breaking down. i went back to the car and snapped at my parents. shouldn't have done that. my fault everybody got mad. but i was frustrated. i needed an outlet. and i really didn't need the nagging.

when i finally found time alone, i called a dear friend. genius came up with plan C. and even managed to make me laugh. thank you. thank you so much.

i went back home. 3 hour's journey. and what do you know? i got a text saying that my piece of paper got posted to Johore. WTF? Jo-bloody-hor? you freaking posted my precious piece of paper to Johore? all the way south as geographically far away from where i am as possible?

i hate this.

bugging question

Fine, Bugger. I won't blog about applications :P

So tell me, how did you know that I just woke up when you called me this morning? That little piece of trivia about how people can tell when you are still in bed is bugging me. I have never had the pleasure of waking people up from sleep :(

Disclaimer (before Beatrice mauls me to pieces): He called me about apps! Nothing else! And he called KayJay first anyway. So KayJay's your man.

[Update: Bugger finally told me. Apparently, it's the groggy whispery tone, e.g. errrrmmm helllllooo?]

blubberings

am again back to my hobby of staring at empty word docs. this time, the empty space is reserved for the school profile. wtf am i supposed to say?

*checks online*

oh. i'm supposed to angkat my school so that it sounds more prestigious than Eton. the hell? now i have lost heart to write. i thought it would be the boring things about principal's name, #staff, #students, #classes, #clubs, #trees, #drains, #toilets, etc etc. the boring boring stuff.

but noooo... have to list school achievements too. as if they hadn't done enough trumpeting for themselves already. gosh. my high school is extremely good at self-advertising. blowing their own trumpet very very loudly. framing those certs for sekolah cemerlang whatever and plastering them over a very nice mural. putting rather ugly photos of old women to show off alumni. putting up graphs showing %passes and %A's. potted plants at the most aesthetically pleasing but most inconvenient places. painting the building a sickening yellow-brown colour. my my. they do try.

it's not a bad school though. the school spirit is there. it really is. it is, in essence, a very dignified school. refined. sophisticated. elegant. the very epitome of a grand old dame. the building speaks for itself. utilitarian design shows off the no-nonsense and practical side of the school. thick columns, heavy-looking facade, solid stone stairs show the importance placed on reliability and stolid will. little embellishments of remarkable beauty shows an understated sense of appreciation for art. the whole building speaks of grace and of learning.

but too bad. along the way, this grace, this elegance, has chipped away bit by bit. the school knows what it can be, but it just cannot be. garish graffiti on a few walls. hideous classroom decorations (which is, ironically, mandated by the school). yellowing articles on foam boards nailed to century-old brick. ridiculously modern-looking tiles contrasted against the smooth worn stone-flagged floor. modernity. at the price of elegance.

disclaimer for anybody who wants to flame me for being ungrateful: all i did was criticize the decor. go on, scroll up and reread. or rereread.

now. how am i supposed to make this fallen dame sound like she is at the prime of her life? i shall try. if i do a good enough job, Eton-lad may come over to court. heh. that will be the day.

blabberings

I am having a major attack of Writer's Block right now. It's all so blank. So empty. Words don't feel as if they have magic. No spark. No tingle.

Blank.

And seriously, I dunno what I want to blog about right now. Let's see what comes out, okay? Experiment! Writing without a topic in mind! Maybe it'll start me on a writing frenzy. I hope so.

Blank, but wide awake. It sucks, I tell you. Wanting someone to talk to, but everyone's off. Gosh. Happens every night. But it never fails to make me feel that little tingle of desolation. Then I'll imagine being in the middle of an ice floe that just broke off from the main ice sheet, with cold biting wind driving little ice bullets into my exposed face. Wow. See how much I suffer, just because you people don't want to stay up to talk to me? See?

Now, does anyone want to stay up from 12 to 6 with me? :D

Just kidding, ok? Don't take me seriously. Especially at 3am.

Ah. Hit by a random notion. If anyone asks me what do I look for in a boyfriend, I have the perfect answer. He must have sleeping habits like mine. 6am to 12pm. And his prime must be from 12 to 6 am. Then we can have hot sex all night long :D

Okay. I think I have managed to eliminate 90% of the applicant pool. But then again, 90% of nothing is still nothing. Wow. I'm talking about boyfriends like college applicants. LOL. Someone shoot me!

And someone please shoot Bugger for me. He told me about August Rush OST and now I have this Moondance tune stuck in my head. And I have it on loop on my player. Damn. And it's not even cool to listen to! Very old school use of saxophones and harmonica, mumbly singing, something your parents will like. But that particular tune and beat.. It gets to me.

Now, suddenly, I feel like writing a love poem. But I have no one to write to. And who ever heard of a girl writing poems for a guy? Gosh. But I really really feel like writing one..

Oh, by the way, something I find intriguing. Phone rang at 8am today. Woke up. Shook head to chase away lingering dreams. Cleared throat. Even managed to drink some water. Answered. And after all my efforts, he started my day with "Still in bed, huh? Wake up! Wake up!"

How could he tell? Is it that obvious when someone just woke up? To find out, I may have to call some of you at 5am :D

*scrolls up*

Gosh. That was some random crap.

*opens up word doc*

*stares*

Maybe I'll write a really horny love poem and put it in the WHY [INSERT UNI] part.

A really really horny one.

And for the WHY ENGINEERING part, I'll write about how I want to work for the sex toy industry. Make Safe Toys. Then people won't get electrocuted when they, uh, play vigorously.

Come to think of it, if I were to design a sex toy, what would I make? Hmmm...

*stares at blank word doc*

This is NOT going to work. I better sleep now and get up earlier tomorrow. A lost soul might need my help.

If I can't sleep, I'll scribble me a love poem. For.. uh.. Well, for an unlucky guy.

Thus ends the randomest, messiest blogpost ever.

renovation refugee

i woke up today thinking someone was mining me for oil. there was this humoungous ear-splitting drilling noise that vibrated my cranium so badly, i had to hold my head in case my brains fell out. it was my bloody neighbour and his &*^@*$%*^$%^$@* renovations. garrrrhhhh. why must he renovate NOW?! when i am home? damn kanasai, i tell you. i still remember during pmr the neighbour on the right was banging and banging and banging on the walls and floors and ceilings and whatever he can get his hands to bang on. pmr! and i haven't finished reading my stupid kh! and then! during spm! the fella on the left started banging too! but he also sawed and drilled and scraped and whatever that weird noise between the drilling and the sawing was. that time i started to think they did it on purpose to annoy me. how to remember about bloody aryans when the noise keep trying to puncture your eardrum?! and now! when my brothers have upsr and pmr SIMULTANEOUSLY you don't want to renovate. where is the justice?! why can those buggers have peace when i can't? you just screwing with me, right? the moment i come back, you start your stupid renovation. when i need peace and quiet, you start to ketuk here, ketuk there, drill here, drill there.

oh gosh now you're shifting furniture. and i remember that noise from pmr! that noise! i don't know what you're doing, but cut it out! dammit! it's like you're giving birth to an alien. an alien spaceship, to be exact.

why. can't. you. stop. it. 

curse you and your selfish ass! one day! on the day when you need peace and quiet! on the day before the most important badass exam of your life, i will hire the biggest and the baddest asshole contractor i can find! and i will RENOVATE. i will renovate my bloody house. i will ask them to retile my whole house. and cut the tiles right here. and i will also ask them to rewire the whole place so that they will need to bang on walls. a lot of walls. and i will ask them to drill whatever it is that can be drilled. i will ask them to give birth to the Mother of all alien spaceships. and the Father as well. and when i move the furniture, i will draaaaaag them.

cut! it! out!

gaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhh.

well. at least my dad is taking us on an escape to the camerons or someplace. i don't care where. as long as it's far away from this hellhole. i just hope we get started soon. the stuuuuuuuuuuupid drilling is starting again. i want to be deaf.

paper smoothie

paperwork will be 

the death of me

i swear

it is too much

to bear

oh you tangle

of floss and dribble

go write yourself

please?

all the pomp

and formality

just isnt

my cup of tea

i prefer mango smoothie

kiamsiap traveller

This post may come in handy to people who want to go to Putrajaya next year to knock on JPA's door to demand that JPA hand over $$$ to pay for their kid's education. I lead you to the lion's lair... Muahahaha... I can even tell you the cheapest way to get there. See, you can save $$$ while you make $$$!

Mission: Go to Putrajaya to get FAS. The FAS is just a piece of A4 paper with a logo on top, and hence, important. To other people. Who are important to the people who are important to me.

So I dragged my aunt (hereafter known as Sarkoh) along. She added another.

Mission 2: Get there as cheaply as possible.

On! 

Subang -> uncle's car -> Taman Bahagia LRT Station | Cost: a lifetime of washing his socks (for Sarkoh) Bolehlah...

TB -> LRT -> KL Sentral | Cost: RM2.oo each (used Touch'n'Go but I checked the cost online)

Met up with Ricky, fellow traveller. I haven't nicknamed him. Yet :D

KL Sentral -> KLIA Transit -> Putrajaya Sentral | Cost: RM9.50 each (Cannot use Touch'n'Go)

Putrajaya Sentral -> NadiPutra -> Kompleks C | Cost: RM0.50 each

NadiPutra. Gosh. That is like, SO corny. Translated to English, Pulse of the Prince. Ha ha ha. It's so sad, it even failed to be amusing. NadiPutra is just Putrajaya's RapidKL bus. OK? Clear? 

They number and colour the buses. Red ones go to Jabatan Perdana Menteri. Blue ones go to Jabatan Something Else. The numbers tell which route the bus takes. There is a ratty-looking signboard there. Consulted it. Looked for buses that go to Kompleks C.

Kompleks C is a brown building with a bigass logo of badass JPA. Can't miss it.

Bus-stop -> Legs -> C1 lobby | Cost: Free!

C1 lobby -> lift -> Jabatan Latihan on the 5th floor | Cost: Sarkoh's IC. Buggers wanted a ransom. We decided to sacrifice her identity.

The lift had a lovely ambience. Mirrors on three sides with gold Islamic geometric motifs. Beautiful. And, I bet, expensive. Sarkoh said she prolly helped pay for one of the fancy lift buttons.

*long wait and doing pointless stuff and being polite and fake smiles and rolling eyes and frustrated sighs and phone calls and ransacking the meeting room and looking for hidden cameras and wondering why taxpayer's money are being used to buy a TV that is airing stupid brainless dramas and wondering why the hell bother installing airconds if the buggers are gonna bloody wear coats anyway*

So, Subang -> Putrajaya | Cost: RM12.00 + IC + legs + marriage + a car + 2 hours

But wait!

Bus stop -> Putrajaya Sentral | Cost RM0.50

Putrajaya Sentral -> RapidKL bus -> Kelana Jaya | Cost: RM2.00 each

Dumped Ricky to take his RM1.40 trip back home.

Kelana Jaya -> RapidKL bus -> Subang | Cost: RM1.00

Subang -> Legs -> House | Cost: Free!

Putrajaya -> Subang | Cost: RM3.50! + 2.5 hours

Mindboggling.

Ways to save $$$.

Backpacking might not be so hard after all!

Those RapidKL and NadiPutra people must be running at a colossal loss.

musical ponderings

Forgive me. I like to write. I am relaxed when I write. Probably also amused. I like writing. And since I have just spent 2 miserable hours trolling through CommonApp and barely made a dent on it, I think I deserve a few minutes of random writing.

I know I should be writing my app essays, but not now. You know the feeling when you think you have an idea what to write, but you just can't quite put your finger on it? Like the idea is hovering somewhere above your eyebrow, but whenever you look up, it just moves higher? Yeah, that feeling. Right now.

I hope by writing crap, I can make that idea so fed up and sick of my crappiness that it decides to crawl into my brain and breed.

So, let's crap!

Recently, I have been talking to a few friends about music. And I haven't told them yet, but I noticed that music affects them strikingly differently.

Case Study #1

Places a lot of emphasis on the lyrics - he likes songs that have a deeper than usual meaning. Also likes songs if the music video is profound. Usually goes for songs that are slow and laced with piano tunes, because these convey the mood that he likes - philosophical calm. So, in general, he is affected by the message of his music. Profound revelations on love and life. Becomes very philosophical after a dose of music, but believes no one understands.

Case Study #2

Is more influenced by the beat and the rhythm. Does pay attention to lyrics, but mostly for slow / sad / emo songs. for happy songs, he just goes for the beat and general ebullience. So i would say he listens with his ear (+ossicles +cochlea +etc) more than with his brain. His moods are very much influenced by his music. fast = happy, slow = sad. 

Case Study #3

Likes indie music - music that does not usually click with the masses. He pays a lot of attention to the lyrics, but he usually interprets the song very personally. Meaning, he doesn't so much empathise with the singer, but he becomes the singer. Literally, that is true also. songs that he likes, he plays and sings. So, in a way, he makes the song his. both emotionally and aurally. He influences his own music. In fact, he influences his music so much, he writes them.

Case Study #4

Gets emotionally attached to certain songs because they hold significance in her life. So i would say she doesn't pay much attention to the lyrics nor the tune. She just likes a song because it reminds her of someone / something / somewhere emotionally important to her. The music influences her moods, but i guess it was she who attached so much meaning to them in the first place. I suspect her playlist to be extremely random. But lately, she seems to have finally found a style she actually likes. Or, it could be that she has found a very significant other ;)

Ah. Done. Please, dear reader, if you think you know who I am talking about, DO NOT SHARE. There is a reason why I numbered my friends. Don't want random people to start spamming them with stupid musical suggestions, see? I hope you understand.

But if you want to contribute your own interpretation of music, feel free to spam comments :)

Now, I shall sleep.

inane thoughts

You know something is wrong when you have conversations like these:

now i know why people think i'm a boy.

Why?

cuz i look like them hot korean / japanese guys.

=.="

really! i do! it's that androgynous look...

=.="

damn. if i was a guy, girls would be screaming and chasing after me.

What the...

what? true ma. imagine me taller, leaner and meaner. with some Final Fantasy hero hairstyle. and abs.

Dude. You're a girl!

so what? if i change my gender, i can go from a normal boyish girl that no guy would ever like romantically unless he is gay, to an effing hot korean drama lead actor lookalike.

What the hell is wrong with you today?!

i just had a revelation on how to improve my love life :D

By getting a sex change... =.="

YESS!!!

But you are straight.

....

:D

damn you. burst my bubble.

Welcome!

:(

now i don't know if i want to be a girl or a guy..

You are a girl. Just accept it and try to be more girl!

i can be a hot gay guy what...

=.="

LOL

So, what do you think? 

girl? guy? guy? girl? girl? gay?

the science of swearing

Today, I heard someone yell You fucking wanker! at someone else.

It was obviously meant to be an insult because they were arguing.

But it's not, isn't it?

I mean, wanking (go google if you don't know. no. wait. NO! don't google! stop! it means masturbating. you can google that. just don't google wanking. okay?) is actually considered a normal human interaction (with oneself) and it is quite widely practiced. There were even reports of it being discussed in INTEC. With a lecturer. And honestly, if someone were to tell you that he / she masturbates, would you stop shaking hands with them? So my point is, being called a wanker is not really insulting at all. If you masturbate, and someone calls you a wanker, it's true! If you don't, and someone calls you a wanker, then they think you have a healthy sex drive!

Even if you find wanker offensive, being called a fucking wanker should make things better, right? I mean, if you think wanking is demeaning, then you should have no problems with people thinking you are having sex, right? That means you graduated from pleasuring yourself to finding someone to be pleasured with you. Now that is a definite improvement! Who doesn't want to have sex? Basic human want and part of God's survival strategy for humans. Nothing wrong there.

So basically, the guy who said fucking wanker phailed. Epically. But then I started thinking about other phails..

Try motherfucking faggot. It's like a frickin paradox. A faggot is a guy who does guys. And, like wanker, it's quite normal to be gay. No one will lynch you or anything. In fact, you might become a chick magnet (but sadly, not attracted to them). But if you intend to irritate a guy by calling him a faggot, wouldn't you be confusing the poor fella? First you say he fucks mothers, then you say he is gay. Mana satu?

Another rather normal-but-still-epic phail is calling your brother a sonofabitch. In front of your mother. And your father. In an ideal world, your dad will start wondering if there was any grain of truth in your claim and will look at your mum accusingly. And if your mum is not a bitch, she will try harder to look loyal and wifely like she really is. Or, if she IS one, she'll get overly defensive and your parents will have a lovely fight. And you will be forgotten and forgiven amidst the mess. But since this is not an ideal world, the outcome is normally disadvantageous to the sibling of the sonofabitch.

The Hokkien hobby of chucking genitalia all over the place is also a fertile ground for phails.

You cheebye la you! might be offensive to a guy, but if you say it to a girl? Nothing wrong what? Ah. Unless you add chou in front. Then it might work. Same goes with lan jiao. So when you want to randomly throw a genital at someone, check to make sure their gender.

And sometimes, I get IMs from friends saying I feel damn tulan today. Figuratively, it means they've had a bad day. But how the hell do we know that pig's joysticks are not, well, JOYsticks? For all we know, they copulate twelve times a day. And I've heard of a study that says pigs have 30-minute orgasms but I doubt the authenticity. Proper use of tulan is as thus: You blind ah? Your boyfriend's face is so tulan! Which says quite a lot about his face and even more about she who finds the face attractive. After all, bestiality ain't really mainstream. The best part is, this can be applied to girlfriends too :) But don't for heaven's sake go the extra mile and say Your boyfriend's lan is so tulan. It will raise a lot of questions.

So. Swearing isn't as simple as I thought it was. Gotta choose the correct words at the correct time at the correct place at the correct person. Phew! But sometimes, cobbling together random words can bring out precious gems.

Like when a brother is bugging you and you want him to go away. Khi chi ciao la! Which means Go feed the birds. Can also mean Go grow your joystick. Ahah. Stab the adolescent male right where it hurts :)

ahah

I now realize the main reason Ivies will not want me. The first thing they will see in me that will make them throw my application into the bin without even looking at anything else.

Laziness.

Ironically, that is also why I want to get into Ivies so much.

I'm too lazy to apply twice.

driving lessons

So far, I'd had six hours of lessons already. Four more to go! :)

Anyway, I switched instructors. No more Mister Geezer. Yay. I got to choose between two new instructors: another old fella and a young one. So I was like, the young one! the young one! because obviously, I'd prefer to spend ten hours of my life with a strapping young hottie than with a wheezy old greybeard. Then I saw the cars that come with the person. They were inversely proportional to their ages. Young dood will be teaching in a faded red Kancil that spews grey smoke. Old apek will be teaching in a brand new silver Kancil that runs as smooth as a Proton possibly can.

Okay...

So I went with the old fella. Strapping young hottie wasn't that strapping nor was he a hottie. And wheezy old greybeard doesn't wheeze that much and is actually clean-shaven. Gosh. I wonder if I'd do the same with husbands..

ANYWAY

I decided to name my instructor Speeder

#1. Because his top advice to me is "Slow down. Slow down. Don't speeding. Brake. Brake! BRAKE!!!!"

#2. He drives as fast as I did when he gave me 'advice' okay.. okay.. at half the acceleration.

#3. Because he repeatedly reminds me to watch the speedometer so that I don't exceed the speed limit. "Look at speedo ha.. Look at speedo.. See, over 30 at zebra-crossing already. Fail then you know.."

Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on driving when he does #3? I mean, the dude is practically begging me to 'look at speedo'! And to me, speedos do not have numbers... So everytime he says speedo, images of swimming pools and six-packs and tans and incredibly sexy parts of the male body and Phelps and muscles start flashing by my line of sight.

The first time he said that, I actually snorted and stepped on the accelerator instead of the brakes. Hard. I had the time of my life! :D 

And I think he formed a very close friendship with the seatbelt. Love the way he clings to it every time I act dumb! Once, I stepped on the accelerator at the sharpest point of a turn and said "whoops! i thought that was the brake!" and I thought he'd laugh. He didn't. He was clutching the belt like he was dangling off it a mile above ground. Priceless.

But other than messing around with Speeder, there isn't much I can think of that is even remotely interesting. Parking, 3-point-turns and hills are pretty much no-brainers. Your engine dying in the middle of a busy junction might seem pretty embarrassing, but really, a smile and a wave and everybody forgives you.

In fact, driving by the rules gets pretty frustrating after a while. 30kmph is sooo slooowww. And pulling handbrakes at every bloody junction and looking leftrightleft even though the place is as populated as Pluto gets really irritating. And for some reason, the ticking of the signal lights bother me.

Anyway, if any of you have ideas on what more I can pull on Mister Speeder, please drop a doodle or two! Come on, give us something to write ;)

again again

See, today I was up at 8 in the morning cuz I had driving lessons at 9. So my dad drops me at this restaurant for breakfast while he drives my mum to work. For Taiping people, it's Yut Sun Restaurant - the one with extremely juicy toast. So. I walk in, sit down, look expectantly around.. And the old man who owned the place approached me. Cuz his workers are busy, not cuz he has a thing for me.

It's all in Hokkien. I shall translate as best as I can.

Boy, what do you want to drink?

*resigned sigh*

These things never cease to happen, eh? We are who we are...

Teh tarik, please.

Dude shuffles off while shouting my order. I wait. 3 minutes later, he comes back with my tea.

Thank you, uncle 

(See, I can be polite when I want to. Wanted to call him Auntie.)

Welcome. So, where are your parents?

(Feeling a bit suspicious since I know he doesn't know me nor my parents)

My dad's driving my mum to work.

Ah.. School holiday started?

Erm.. Yeah.

So, enjoying your holiday?

*thinks back to SAT2 but suddenly remembers the 5 episodes of House last night*

Yeahh..

Well, you deserve a break after all the studying.

Er. Yeah.

So, how was your PMR?

...

What. The. Eff! PMR?!

He thinks I'm a 15-year-old boy!

!!!

...

*Exerts enormous self-control*

OK lah.

So how? Think you can do well? How many A's do you think you can get?

Err. Seven?

Wah.. Very confident huh?

Heh.

But you have to remember PMR is just the first step for you. SPM is the real thing. You better start study for Form 4.

Yeah uncle. I study already.

Wah! Good for you! Study hard so that you can get all A's for your SPM!

Yes yes.

OK lah, enjoy your breakfast. And good luck!

Huh. I was too sleepy and my command of Hokkien is not enough to convey the very complex idea that I am actually a girl.

I give up.

bah. titles. i can't think of one.

i'm amazed how many people actually read that huge block of text below. i mean, i didn't think you people would think it worthwhile to wade through lines and lines of stupid sentences and missing capital letters. so, wow. i was amazed i even had responses. to those who read, thank you so much for your time. i know i didn't make much sense. your replies mean a lot to me. especially yours, jane. and to a certain someone who didn't reply, but did talk to me about it, i appreciate your willingness to listen.

i think it would take a long time for me to find my answers. it isn't exactly google-able. but i guess that is what makes life beautiful. the eternal quest for answers to even the humblest of questions. and i think i AM finding my answers, now that i keep my eyes open.

***

my holiday was full of thoughtful moments, punctuated by splashing waves and over-enthusiastic jet-skiers. i learnt a lot. for example, i learnt that you can get attached to a sunset. 

this is my sunset and it is beautiful. i don't care if you think it's ugly or mediocre or [insert negative adjective] but i think it looks like a stairway to Helios's golden realm of fire and wonders. it's like you can just step on the waves and reach the brightly burning gateway to the sun and when you peek through you just might catch a glimpse of Helios and his chariot and you can see his horses panting fire and their white-hot horseshoes smoking as they cool. i know i sound cliched and touristadvert-like and i know the 'e' in 'cliche' has a 'shck' above it but i don't care enough to bother googling nor sitting for 5 minutes cracking my head for a godforsaken SAT word.

oh. and i learnt that Borneo isn't the only place to find hornbills. yes, people. Pangkor has them too! Hornbills!

i swear these are real! and a note to my dear Sarawakian friends: these fellas measure about 3 feet from tip to tip. so, Bamboo, it IS possible for them to perch on electric cables. they just prefer hanging out on trees. hah.

so i guess we can safely conclude that this trip wasn't so pointless after all. i got to see my hornbills :) 

a block of text. or two.

you know what. i seriously do not know why i'm doing this. why am i putting my hopes on something as far away as an ivy league university? why am i hoping for what's impossible? why am i aiming for something i don't think i want in the first place? and while i'm at it, why am i bothering to hope for what is a hopeless cause? why do i do the stuff i do? why? i keep telling myself that i'm giving myself more of a chance to be a better person than i am, but i can't help but think that i will be a better person if i actually follow what i really want to do. which leads me to the question of what is it that i want to do? i don't know. i just know that i have this crazy longing to throw all of this off my back and just walk off. just walk off. sometimes i get scared. i wonder why am i following the crowd. i wonder why am i listening to people i barely know telling me what is good for me. i wonder. and i never get the answer. it's weird. the people i really admire, the people who i really want to become, they never did all this. they didn't need to. that they never did was probably what made them who they are. who i really want to become. i don't know. i just can't find any reason to continue doing this. it's all so pointless. so easy to follow. so easy to do. so easy to hunker down, forget all this and study electrons. so easy. to follow unquestioningly, to do what i 'have' to do. to do what other people 'want' me to do. to make myself 'enjoy' doing all this because it is easier than contemplating other paths to carve in my life. so easy to just accept. i don't know. the more i 'succeed', the more i feel like i'm 'failing'. i want to pack my bags and walk out of this life. be a writer. travel. float aimlessly amidst humanity. but i don't. why? because i'm afraid. because i don't know if i can survive. because i am a coward. because it is all so uncertain and hazy and no one's done it before. and that is what i hate about myself. i abhor control. i seek freedom. and yet i shackle myself to this, too scared to seek the freedom i profess to crave. lying to myself about myself. gosh. how sad can that get? i just hope this great big block of text stopped some people from reading this. but in a way, when you get too personal, it becomes impersonal. because people stop caring. i know nobody would care about this because they know that no matter how much i complain, i would still continue doing what i do. hence, my willingness to write about this. this burden i carry, yet i know not why i take it. it's a bit like the story of Sisyphus, except he pretty much has his task outlined for him by a god. well, lucky him. i don't know who outlined my task, nor what my task is. and i don't even know if i'm doing my task right, nor if i'm doing the right task. i do not know why i'm doing what i do. i enjoy it, but i can't help but think i can enjoy doing other things too. i just don't understand why i'm doing all this when it is so easy to change and do something else. oh yes it's easy to change. getting a scholarship might seem tough to some, but losing one is so darn temptingly easy. and possibly fun. i just want a reason to do what i do. maybe i'll find it. maybe i won't. but i am just going to revert back to human android mode tomorrow and stop throwing questions with no answers into the air like they're helium balloons. and that is sad. i hope i won't delete this post. this is the most lucid i felt in months. possibly years. but lucidity is subjective. just like everything that really matters in our sad little lives. i guess we made it subjective so that we can lie to ourselves that we are who we are not. how exceedingly clever. bah. damn all this to hell. it all ends in death anyway. everything else is just the details. how quaint. okay. back to unquestioning, numb, happy android mode. come, let us have fun with physics. because i have to do it, might as well have fun doing it. amazing what i can make myself do. amazing that i can protest and do it at the same time. i might make a good politician. who knows. i don't.

***

i'm part of a coincidental occurrence where five people accidentally travel at the same time at the same speed to the same place where they happen to do the same thing. and one of them happens to be paying enough for all of them. i think they call it a holiday. i'm going to that island they named Pangkor, which i think is a sucky name for an island because it just doesn't roll off your tongue and it sounds like a name i would assign a cooking utensil. so. a holiday. tomorrow. i mean, today. in a few hour's time the few humans i will travel with will rise. and i too shall rise and pretend i had a fantastic night dreaming about rainbows and unicorns. i am amazingly good at doing this. the only attraction that island holds for me is this - i was happy here. i was pure and innocent and in love with life. and in love with a whole lot of other things. sandcastles. buckets. the sea. the sky. clouds. the pony. beach balls. jet skis. crabs. seashells, kites. coconut leaves. i want to find the place where i was happy. i want to go back there. i want to return to where i remember being in absolute bliss. but i know what will happen if i do. i will stare at the miserable beach that looked so much like paradise when i was a kid. i will look at it and see a sad little patch of insignificant sand filled with utterly ugly calcium formations. i will look at what was the magnificent blue sea and see waves full of jellyfish and trash. i might even find the pipe whereby the hotel dumps the waste into the water. and i will smirk at the people in the sea. but there will be no humour in that smirk. it just means another part of my childhood has been corrupted. and i smirk in acceptance. i was seven then. i am seventeen now. there you go. ten years, and i come back. i come back to ruin your memory. there you go. this is how i ruin a holiday.

another jobless post

sign of madness #4

15 minutes looking for calculator

failed

10 minutes looking for phone

found

5 minutes wondering what number to dial

oh no

I didn't save the number

how am I supposed to call 

the freaking calculator

and make it ring

so that I can find it?

***

I'm sad to say that really happened. Behold my ever-developing dementia.

practicing math

I did a Math2 practice test yesterday. I mean, 15 hours ago. And it took me five hours to finish. Heh. Amazing, innit? Dear AmyRoomie I'm sure you know how I study for Math :D so let me tell you what I managed to do this time.

I read about 10 pages of bash.org, disembowelled an alarm clock to switch the hour and the minute hands, burned all my movies onto DVDs, combed the net for a game that can run on my Acer and that I actually like, reorganized all my music and e-books, played with my stupid Facebook pet until it's currently bankrupt, chatted with a few friends, brushed my teeth thrice cuz I forgot I did already, completed half a Lit practice test, blogged, had a weird thought about God and Places of Worship, ate Crackers + (Milo - H2O), choked and sprayed Milo powder all over the keyboard which thankfully is the foldable rubber one that I decided to try,

And wrote an essay for CommonApp.

Amazing, the things I do to escape Math.

But I won't be using the essay though. It's too stupid. I mean, who in their right minds would swear that their life changes with their hairstyle? And who in their right minds will let someone like that lose in their college?

So I binned it and finished up the last few questions and crawled back to bed because the sun has risen and is sapping away all my energy. I'm just surprised I actually wrote a freaking essay. Still am. Maybe I shouldn't have binned it. Ah. Too late to regret.

As you can see, yes, I am damn jobless.

woke up to a rectangle

I am happy to say that I actually took three whole days since getting back home to revert fully to my natural biological rhythm.

Anyway, I woke up today to vigorous shaking and to

Oi, you got a letter!

And my first thought was

#@%I can login when I bangun lahh..$&@

Oi! Letter ah oi!

&#!Email won't explode if you don't open lah..#*&

Letter! Oi! Wake up already! From YooEss!

Duh, must be from some univ...

(!!!)

Letter? You mean the paper one? Wow! Who would actually send a real cellulose-based letter all the way from US? To me?

A letter!

A true-blue letter!

For me!

So I grabbed the green rectangle and flipped to see if it was really for me.

*flip*

And miss oejane's much-loved handwriting greeted my overjoyed eyes. Magical, what a few simple lines can do. Memories and thoughts, sights and smells, condensation of fun and evaporation of tears. Fuh. Damn intense sensory experience, I tell you.

All from a simple letter.

It's amazing how much a dear friend can touch you, even if you're half a world apart, even if you haven't seen each other for months, even if you really can't picture her life right now.

Even through her handwriting on the back of a battered green envelope.

And Jane, I will let the record stand :)

And I will pass on the very profound revelation :D

drunk with LOL

You know those utterly unexpected moments of complete stupidity?

When you type something and it just comes out wrong?

Very wrong?

And you friend fricking catches it and rubs it in with salt?

I know them very well :D

And I found a treasure trove full of stupid moments like these!

YAY!

I don't feel alone anymore!

Visit Deviantart's LOL Corner!

Was supposed to fill in CommonApp but double-yoo-tee-eff this is too darn great.

***blame these***

[gonorea] helllo
[Chuckskull] wow what a name 
[gonorea] my name?
[Chuckskull] gonorea: yeah...
[gonorea] whatever...
[Chuckskull] [link] gonorea
[gonorea] i come from bulgaria
[Chuckskull] Thats an unlucky culture clash 
[gonorea] o0o0o0o s***t m***r f**r
[gonorea] aaa

[ash--tray] there's only one i in dictionary, smartass
[ash--tray] SHIT

[CHUCKY93] ;__________________________________;
[BlackHawk00021] well that puts new meaning into the phrase 'why the long face?'

[APimpingSquirrel] o_o I am dying of thrust
[APimpingSquirrel] thurst*
[APimpingSquirrel] WOW.
[sirniqman] APimpingSquirrel: Sexual Fail.

[andthemusic] Anyone watch Herpes?
[andthemusic] LOL.
[andthemusic] HEROES. I meant Heroes!

***

I love this stuff!

Life just ain't complete without stupidity and silliness!

And I have nothing to say to people who don't understand stupidity. It's stupid, dammit, how hard is it to understand?

...

Ah. I think I just found out why people don't talk to me.

Damnation.

a fortnight

I admit I have felt a little intimidated by all the sighings of my fellow Austinians concerning SAT2 and applications. And I felt really uncomfortable when you talked to me about how much you DIDN'T do and how much time you've been 'wasting'. Why? Because then, frightening images of my very empty CommonApp form and very virgin SAT2 books start flashing right in front of my eyes. *

And thus I had to constantly remind myself to take my break. To take the fortnight of rest and relaxation I had promised myself. To let my CPU cool down, so to say.

I'm glad to say I did :)

This fortnight I regained the suiying that I somehow lost during the Finals and SAT2 week. It's amazing, now that I look back, how stressed I was inside. The rather stupid way I planned to beat the reading exam, the internal mental flogging I put myself through before and after PreCal, the hasty way I memorised Theology without even appreciating the culture and the amount of thought that goes with it, the way I wrote the essay to please a lecturer and not myself. That was not who I am. And I am appalled at how I let something as transient as an exam distort me so much in such a short time.

Thank you, Time, for giving me these two weeks.

for letting me recover who was lost

for reminding me of what is really important

for showing me that someone still cares

for helping me mend fences

for blooming a blossoming friendship

for great books and great music

for the way I see the world

*And no, I'm not blaming any of you. It is a perfectly understandable need for you to let off steam after all the pressure you put yourself through, which rather defeats the point of complaining that you didn't do much in the first place. But hey, you're reading about someone who considers 'worrying' part of 'work' and 'effort' so really, it's not your fault. This paragraph is specially dedicated to KayJay and Ronnie(who never reads blogs anyway) so this is for you, KayJay. It's not your fault so don't start apologising.

a lightbulb of an idea

Know what I would absolutively love to do when I get back to school?

Go to the computer labs.

And change the languages to Yiddish.

Or Krygyz.

Depends on my mood.

If I'm feeling particularly benevolent, I might settle for Google's Pirate.

Arrr ye matey! I Be Feelin' Lucky!

lunch

Allow me to set the scenario. My roommate Amy is staying at the INTEC hostel (Akasia) because plane tickets simply cost too much for two trips. In fact, all my housemates didn't go back to Sarawak because they are sitting for SAT2 on Dec6.

So.

I got a text from Amy at noon today:

[published with her permission, of course]

This morning i woke up, 

brush my teeth, realise 

the kitchen smells horrible...

Can't find the source, so i 

assumed it's from outside. 

Then, in the middle of 

washing my hands, i had a 

fleeting suspicion. 

Walked over to cooking pot.

Look inside, made a stupid 

decision to smell.

...

Now i know how two days 

old egg/vege/godknowswhatelse 

smells like.

>__<

LOL. The desperation and the horror. Love it.

Anybody wants to have lunch with Amy?

Maggots included :)

hello there, hottie

Is it just me, 

or did you also fall in love with him at first sight?

His name's Polar FT80.

again

See, it was my very first driving lesson. 

And it was all in Hokkien. And you know how great my Hokkien is! Oh, and a healthy mix of Mandarin too. And you definitely know how great my Mandarin is!

BUT, since I am such a great driver *ahem* I managed to do everything right even though my instructor(hereafter known as Geezer)'s instructions were pretty hazy *insert image of intrepid explorer*

I initially had trouble with the 1st gear cuz I didn't understand that you are NOT supposed to lift the clutch all the way up. But I got the message eventually :D

Things got pretty dull after that. I mean, how interesting can cruising along a road ten times over get? And Geezer kept going "Kah ban.. kah ban.."(Slower.. slower..). I was doing less than forty! On an empty stretch! Can't you see that tortoise zooming past?! Felt like pretending the accelerator was the brake, but I think I better get my licence first, yes?

Anyway, here is the most interesting part of the entire thing.

See, Geezer was reminding me to let go of the clutch slooowly for the first gear:

Ban ban gia khi lai, boy.

So I slowly....(!) 

What? 

What did you just call me?

(!!!)

Boy?

After you took my IC and freaking wrote my very feminine name on a paper?

Boy?

In bright sunlight and sitting barely 50cm from me?

BOY?

Confirm.

My driving instructor is blind :P

auditory mystery

LOLLIPOP

~MIKA~

Hey, what's the big idea?

Yo Mika.

I said, 

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down,

I said, 

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down.

Sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down,

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down.

Say love, say love,

or love's gonna get you down.

say love, say love,

or love's gonna get you down.

I went walking in with my mama one day,

when she warn me what people say,

live your life until love is found,

'cause love's gonna get you down.

Take a look at the girl next door,

she's a player and a down right whore,

Jesus loves her, she wants more,

oh bad girls get you down.

Singing,

Sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down,

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down.

Say love, say love,

or love's gonna get you down.

say love, say love,

or love's gonna get you down.

Mama told me what I should know,

too much candy gonna rot your soul,

if she loves you, let her go,

'cause love only gets you down.

Take a look at the boy like me,

never stood on my own two feet,

now I'm blue, as I can be,

oh love couldn't get me down.

Singing,

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down,

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down.

Say love, say love,

or love's gonna get you down.

say love, say love,

or love's gonna get you down.

I went walking with my mama one day,

when she warn me what people say,

live your life until love is found,

or love's gonna get you down.

Singing,

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down,

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down.

Say love (say love), say love (say love),

or love's gonna get you down.

say love (say love), say love (say love),

or love's gonna get you down.

Mama told me what I should know,

too much candy gonna rot your soul,

if she loves you, let her go,

'cause love only gets you down.

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, lollipop.

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, whoa-oh, lollipop.

Sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down,

say, 

sucking too hard on your lollipop, 

or love's gonna get you down. 

Tell me why am I bopping along to this song? It's like, stuck between my ossicles. It's too happy for me. Yet I like it. It's so freaking happy, it might almost make HSM. Gosh. I am in denial. It's so bloody happy! Nabe! What's happening to me? Why me? Why this?