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.