cameronian cranks

During my travels of late, I happen to notice that the women of Cameron Highlands generally have perfect complexions and willowy figures, characteristics that are highly prized by men. Therefore, I would like to urge readers who are looking for some high-altitude hanky-panky to extend their search hill-ward. Of course, I do not know if said beauties are partial to said hanky-panky, so that is something the reader should undertake at their own risk. The returns, however, are pleasurable. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the men.

Also, I would like to caution the inhabitants of a certain hotel about the towel rails in the bath. Do not drape the towels across the aluminium rod. Roll it and balance it on top. You do not want to yank too hard on said aluminium rod when you are still luxuriously steaming like a boiled lobster. The rod will come off and bounce right onto your foot to stamp a circle of blood like a cookie cutter cuts out a gingerbread man.

My blood staineth a twin of thee

And when your reflexes disregard the fact that you are in a wet bathtub and make you step back from the source of bodily injury, you invariably gain much more injury, in the form of a bruised butt and the cold hard steel of the bathtap trying to fuse with your spine.

Which is why I wonder why I have so many lustful couples as fellow lodgers. Ah. They probably never use towels. But there sure was a lot of them making out behind me as I poke the fireplace in the lobby. Toe-wrestling at the bar. Playing tag around the fountain. The brother was highly amused and would try to take pictures. In a particularly embarrassing incident, the whispering newlyweds started hugging in the lift. The brother snorted, pointed, elbowed me in the ribs, and I started laughing. Probably because the guy was shorter than the girl, but still. I feel like I have placed myself at a sub-oceanic level of maturity.

There you go, Yan. I am still capable of saying something without mentioning anime and manga. Aren't you proud of me?

cloudy concerns

The Five People You Meet in Heaven. Frankly, I've never really clicked with Albom's books because they need way more than seventeen years of (rather dull) memories to really strike a chord. But I am rather fond of the idea that you'll find out who really mattered to you in the end. It's a form of closure I've always expected Heaven to give. Not ideal, of course, but it is worth mulling over a hot cup of Milo.

It might sound a tad dramatic, but I couldn't finish the damn Milo today because I started wondering who will meet me in Heaven. Who will I matter to, in the end? Who will need me for a bit of perspective of their life?

Sadly, even if I greatly exaggerate my importance in any part of any person's life, I still cannot see myself as much of an influence on anyone. "Hey Suiying! I knew I'd be seeing you here! The way you complimented the lecturer taught me about sarcasm and it totally changed my life!". Not happening. Not even if God decided to stretch the number to 10.

Ah well. Guess that means I don't have to break from any ethereal ecstasies I will be enjoying.

I suppose if I really want someone to meet me, I can adopt a Somalian baby and give him electricity and homework instead of letting him yohoho his life away on the open seas. But that feels a bit like cheating, no?

I also like Albom's notion of Heaven because he never mentioned a Hell.

surprisingly useful side effects

When I was talking to a boring old lady today, I found a new ability. I made her talk in Japanese! So her droning about her precious son turned into sweet flowing Japanese pattering. Ahhh. Such a pleasant way to tune out.

Next, I'll try inserting subtitles.

She gave me oranges and told my aunt I was intelligent.

HAHA.

while waiting for FMA25 to buffer

I have been uncharacteristically happy for the past 3 weeks. This worries me because in my experience, periods of happiness are generally followed by proportionate periods of sadness. Then again, this might be a reward for the horrible month of October. Hmmm. Let us be optimistic here. No reason to worry about the results for finals I have yet to check.

I have decided not to work for the holidays because I know I won't be able to wake up and my parents would much rather chew on wood than let me work the night shift. Also, they wouldn't let me drive to work. But really. Me? Working? Punching in? Smiling when I say 'Good morning'? Having lunch at some random coffee shop alone while thinking about ways to improve my performance? Nah, can't see it. In fact, I can't see how I'll be going through adulthood, but that's a totally different story.

So what am I doing since I'm not working? I'm helping my brother improve his essay-writing, since it was the only service of value that I could proffer to the shrewd landlady we will call my mother. She's a 45kg, 1.5m tall specimen many would call 'gentle' but she does have full control over my dinner. In her defense, the meals have been excellent, but one can never know what a scorned woman can do to one's rice. So I shall not scorn her, and sacrifice an hour of my time trying to follow the thought processes of a 13-year-old boy I have helped raise.

Other than that, it's been all day fun and play for this irresponsible person. Yes, I have been totally enamored with Fullmetal Alchemist lately and no one is more surprised than my dear Yan Ming. I bet she feels like she doesn't know me anymore. But Yan, FMA is not Sailormoon, okay? For one, it's cool. It has ouroboros tattoos and advanced prosthetics. It also has a sparkly man with actual guts. Also, the lead has issues with his lack of height (an issue that, sadly, we can relate to). So, Read it! Watch it! Then we can plot the death of homunculi and the rebirth of a new Amestris! Oh, and if anyone's thinking of getting me a serious gift, I am expecting a replica of Edward's cape. Shameless, I know.

Everyone should be familiar with my tendency to criticize. So. 2012. I saw 4 people die. In a movie about the apocalypse. I shall shudder in my bunker tonight. I suppose you can't really put too much blood and gore if you want to get a PG-13, but seriously. You're talking about the end of the world. I need to feel that a lot of people died. Sure, you had detailed infrastructure damage, but you still need bodies decorating the sidewalk. Also, zero hot guys. Well, I suppose the Indian scientist was cute, but he had a family. Script was unnoticeable, but for one. Referring to a ginormous plane, Yuri Karpov said "It's Russian." with so much pride that one cannot help but wonder if he was talking about the plane. Ah. My tendency toward juvenile derision is satisfied. Also, a giraffe flying through the Himalayas. Precious.

I should probably go to bed now. Don't want to be late for potential conference with a tired Bugger at 11 am.

a rather comprehensive list

CHOOSE YOUR DRINK

Apple Tini B52 Black Russian Bloody Mary Cosmopolitan Daiquiri Disaronno and Coke Double on the Rocks Dry Manhattan Kamikaze Long Island Iced Tea Lemon Drop Manhattan Margarita Martini Dirty Martini Wet Martini Dry Martini Mojito Mai Thai Mimosa Mint Julep Pina Colada Rum and Coke Seabreeze Screwdriver Sex on the Beach Slippery Nipple Tom Collins Tequila Sunrise Vodka Martini Zombie White Russian Singapore Sling Whiskey Sour Absinthe Bourbon Everclear Flavored Vodka Gin Malibu Rum Rum Scotch Tequila Vodka Whiskey Red Wine White Wine Rose Wine Sparkling Wine Amstel Light Amstel Light Alaskan Amber Alaskan Pale Ale Alaskan Stout Alaskan ESB Alaskan Smoked Porter Alaskan Winter Ale Anchor Steam Anchor Liberty Ale Anchor Porter Anchor Old Foghorn Anchor Small Anderson Valley Boont Amber Anderson Valley Hop Ottin' Anderson Valley Poleeko Gold Anderson Valley Belk's ESB Anderson Valley Barney Flats Oatmeal Anderson Valley Winter Solstice Anderson Valley High Rollers Wheat Anderson Valley Deep Enders Porter Beamish Stout Beck's Bell's/Kalamazoo Two Hearted Ale Bell's/Kalamazoo Amber Ale Bell's/Kalamazoo Pale Ale Bell's/Kalamazoo Kalamazoo Stout Bell's/Kalamazoo Oberon Bell's/Kalamazoo Double Cream Stout Bell's/Kalamazoo Third Coast Old Ale Bell's/Kalamazoo Expedition Stout Bell's/Kalamazoo Best Brown Ale Bell's/Kalamazoo Cherry Stout Blue Moon Blue Moon White Breckenridge Avalanche Amber Breckenridge Autumn Ale Breckenridge Pale Ale Breckenridge Christmas Ale Breckenridge Oatmeal Stout Breckenridge Pandora's Bock BridgePort IPA BridgePort Porter BridgePort ESB BridgePort Black Strap Stout BridgePort Blue Heron BridgePort Pintail Ale BridgePort Ebenezer Ale BridgePort Old Knucklehead Budweiser (U.S) Budweiser Bud Light Budweiser Bud Ice Budweiser Bud Ice Light Budweiser Budvar Budvar Busch Busch Light Busch Ice Clausthaler Colt 45 Malt Liquor Coors Original Coors Light Coors Extra Gold Corona Light Corona Extra Czechvar Deschutes Cascade Ale Deschutes Mirror Pond Pale Deschutes Bachelor ESB Deschutes Black Butte Porter Deschutes Quail Springs IPA Deschutes Obsidian Stout Deschutes Jubelale Deschutes Broken Top Bock Deschutes Pine Mountain Pils Deschutes Cinder Cone Red Dos Equis Dos Equis XX Dragon Stout Dragon Stout Edison Light Edison Light Foster's Lager Fuller's ESB Fuller's London Pride Genessee 12 Horse Genessee/High Falls Genny Light Genessee/High Falls Kipling Light Lager Grolsch Gordon Biersch Marzen Gordon Biersch Blonde Bock Gordon Biersch Pilsner Guinness Guinness Draught Guinness Foreign Extra Stout Hamm's Hamm's Light Heineken Henry Weinhard's Ale Henry Weinhard's Amber Ale Henry Weinhard's Dark Henry Weinhard's Hefeweizen Henry Private Reserve Hoegaarden Icehouse 5.0 Icehouse 5.5 J.W. Dundee Honey Brown Keystone Light Kilarney's Red Lager Killian's Labatt Blue Lowenbrau Marin Brewing Mt. Tam Pale Ale Marin Brewing Bluebeery Ale Marin Brewing Albion Amber Marin Brewing Marin Weiss Marin Brewing Point Reyes Porter Marin Brewing Breakout Stout Marin Brewing Old Dipsea Barleywine Marin Brewing India Pale Ale McMenamins Hammerhead McMenamins Terminator McMenamins Ruby McMenamins Black Rabbit Porter McMenamins Dry Irish Stout Michelob Michelob Light Michelob Amber Bock Michelob Hefeweizen Michelob Honey Lager Michelob Black & Tan Michelob Ultra Mickey's Mickey's Ice Miller Genuine Draft Miller Genuine Draft Lite Miller High Life Miller Lite Moosehead Murphy's Irish Red Murphy's Stout O'Douls O'Douls Amber Odell's 90 Shilling Odell's Easy Street Wheat Odell's Cutthroat Porter Odell's Cutthroat Pale Ale Odell's Levity Odell's Isolation Odell's Bobby Olde English 800 Olde English 800 Ice Old Milwaukee Pabst Blue Ribbon Paulaner Original Munich Paulaner Salvator Paulaner Hefe-Weizen Pete's Brewing Wicked Ale Pete's Brewing Oktoberfest Pete's Brewing Summer Brew Pete's Brewing Winter Brew Pete's Brewing Helles Lager Pete's Brewing Red Rush Pete's Brewing Strawberry Blonde Pilsner Uruqell Pittsburgh Brewing I.C. Light Pittsburgh Brewing Iron City Lager Pyramid Hefeweizen Pyramid Coastline Pilsner Pyramid Apricot Ale Pyramid India Pale Ale Pyramid Pale Ale Pyramid Curve Ball Kolsch Pyramid Broken Rake Pyramid Tilted Kilt Pyramid Snow Cap Ale Red Dog Redhook ESB Redhook IPA Redhook Blonde Ale Redhook Hefe-weizen Redhook Nut Brown Rhinebecker St. Pauli Girl St. Pauli Girl Dark St. Pauli Girl N.A. Sam Adams Light Sam Adams Boston Lager Sam Adams Golden Pilsner Sam Adams Cream Stout Sam Adams Boston Ale Sam Adams Cherry Wheat Sam Adams Spring Ale Sam Adams Summer Ale Sam Adams Pale Ale Sam Adams Octoberfest Sam Adams IPA Sam Adams Winter Lager Sam Adams Double Bock Sam Adams Triple Bock Sapporo Shiner Bock Shiner Light Sierra Nevada Pale Ale Sierra Nevada Porter Sierra Nevada Stout Sierra Nevada Wheat Sierra Nevada Summerfest Sierra Nevada Celebration Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Stone Brewing Arrogant Bastard Ale Stone Brewing Stone Pale Ale Stone Brewing Stone Smoked Porter Stone Brewing Stone IPA Stone Brewing Ruination IPA Stone Brewing Double Bastard Ale Stone Brewing Stone Old Guardian Tsingtao Widmer Hefeweizen Widmer Pale Ale Widmer Blonde Ale Widmer Widberry Widmer Sommerbra Widmer Oktoberfest Widmer Winternacht Widmer Spring Run IPA Widmer Drop Top Amber Ale Yuengling Premium Yuengling Light Yuengling Ale Yuengling Porter Yuengling Lager Yuengling Black & Tan Yuengling Light Lager

HOW MUCH DO YOU WEIGH?

Pounds (lbs) Kilograms (kg)

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Created by Bar Stools

ideas

I miss doing stupid stuff. The best 'stupid sessions' happen spontaneously, but sometimes, awesomeness can be achieved with detailed planning. Which reminds me. I need to reinvigorate StopMotionCamwhoring (or SMC for short. extra funny for me because it is also high school acronym). I have lost all pictures in the reformatting fire.. The Archives of The Battle for Buns is no more.

Guys! Check this out!

[Scotty] After school, me and my friends went to the drug store.
[Scotty] And my friend brought a box of condoms to the counter.
[Scotty] And she scanned them.
[Scotty] And he acted like he didn't have enough money.
[Scotty] He was like, "Shit, I'll be right back."
[Scotty] So he puts the condoms back, and comes back with a bag of rubber bands in one hand and a box of plastic wrap in the other.
[Scotty] Oh my fucking God
[Scotty] Until the day I die
[Scotty] I will never forget that lady's face.

I want to see the look on that lady's face! Go get me a video!

Credits to this site which I spend an unhealthy amount of time in.

I have another idea involving the exploitation of Wei Jie and Louisa's apparent chemistry which makes everyone on earth think that they're madly in love with each other... We wait till the library is buzzing with people, then we station Wei Jie and Louisa on opposite ends of the library entrance. They will clap eyes on each other, freeze, and stare at each other for ten seconds. Then, they will run with arms outstretched at each other. We shall braid Louisa's hair with daisies and make Wei Jie wear a shirt that flaps like a man. When they collide with one another, Wei Jie will do that lifting up and spinning Louisa around thing. And then, they will shake hands, and carry on as if the Bollywood episode never happened.

Of course, we'll have to get Louisa's permission first. Wei Jie sure agree wan. Oooooh it would look so good in stop motion.

But, for now, I guess I'll just stop motion my brother drooling in his sleep.

Oh. Shoutout. I need your help, dear readers. Application-time again! And this time, I have the whole America to choose from :) If you are, or have been impressed with any university, at any point in your life, please contact me and we can hang out into the early morn. E-mail and MSN : suiying[at]live[dot]com[dot]my. Be warned. I have a talent for sounding stand-offish even when I don't intend to.

And now, I will go forth and watch more cartoons.

esei terpesong

Adakah aku akan menjadi otaku? Harap-harap tidak. Ku tiada masa untuk satu lagi obsesi kerana sememangnya terlalu banyak yang hendak ku lakukan. Ku sudah lupa sama ada perkataan 'ku' itu perlu dilekatkan pada 'hendak' atau 'lakukan'. Ku juga rasa perkataan 'dilekatkan' itu kurang sesuai. Apakan daya. Sekurang-kurangnya ku masih lagi tahu menggunakan perkataan 'sekurang-kurangnya'.

Ya, ku mengaku. Semasa SPM ku ada menggunakan teknik 'mengelak' untuk perkataan yang maknanya ku tidak tahu. "Raja Andromeda memerintah rakyat jelatanya untuk mencari maksud perkataan 'perawan' supaya raksasa laut yang ganas tidak akan membaham puterinya." (petikan ini diambil daripada kertas tuisyen Tingkatan 5 yang sedang ku guna sebagai.. er.. petanda buku? penanda? pentanda? nampaknya tuisyen kurang membantu.)

Mari kita menganalisa isi tersurat ayat ini. Kita tahu bahawa galaksi Andromeda masih mengamalkan sistem feudal. Kita juga tahu bahawa terdapat raksasa ganas yang mempunyai kosa kata yang lebih luas daripada seorang pelajar Tingakatan 5. Bagaimana pula dengan isi tersirat? Kita tahu bahawa raksasa ganas ini sedang mempermain-mainkan raja ini kerana ayat tersebut penuh dengan ironi (hanya jika seseorang itu tahu maksud perkataan 'perawan'). Kita juga tahu bahawa tidak terdapat Kamus Dewan di istana Andromeda. Kita juga tahu bahawa penulis ayat tersebut sama ada kurang waras, atau tidak tahu langsung maksud perkataan 'perawan'. Atau sedang bermimpi di dalam kelas.

Dalam kes ini, ku agak bersyukur ayat ini yang digunakan. Ayat lain yang agak kerap ku gunakan adalah "Adik pulang dengan muka yang berseri-seri kerana diberi hadiah oleh gurunya setelah menerangkan makna perkataan [perkataan] kepada rakan-rakan sekelas". Habislah masa depan adik tersebut, jikalau perkataan tersebut adalah 'perawan'. Harap-harap tidak dibuang sekolah.

Susah betul untuk menaip dalam Bahasa Melayu. Garisan merah di seluruh... erm.. textbox? kotak perkataan? Apa-apa sahajalah. Banyak sangat... erm.. hyphen? dalam BM ini. Kata ganda memang menggandakan benda-benda yang hendak ditaip. Itulah sebabnya latihan kata ganda amat memafankan. Dan yea, apabila diminta untuk membimbing adik untuk ujiannya, ku telah mewariskan teknik 'mengelak' ku. Tidak banyak yang boleh ku ajar. Jelas sekali.

Maaf maaf. Terpesong. Adakah aku akan menjadi otaku? Ku bagaikan disedut ke dalam dunia anime. Dahulukala, anime ialah Doraemon, Sailormoon, dan Dragonball. Ku tidak berapa suka. Yang ku suka ialah Pokemon, dan ku tidak pernah terfikir bahawa Pokemon adalah anime. Nama-nama Pokemon adalah variasi perkataan Inggeris, dan bukan perkataan Jepun. Oleh itu, Pokemon ialah kartun, bukan anime, dan amat mengasyikkkan.

Kini ku kembali ke dunia pelik yang digelar Jepun. Tak puas 1945, tak puas kena bom, orang Jepun itu kembali menjajah dunia dengan mata yang 20 kali lebih besar daripada pelukisnya dan rambut yang tidak mungkin boleh diduplikasikan dalam dunia sebenar. Malangnya, ku terperangkap dalam Fullmetal Alchemist, Haruhi Suzumiya dan Studio Ghibli. Mampuslah masa depanku. Mampuslah interaksi sosialku. Mampuslah nutrisi badanku. Mampuslah tidurku.

Mampuslah kalau ini esei SPM.

the balance between society and free-will

It would seem that social interactions tire me. More and more frequently I find myself being pressured into participating in activities I am not inclined to be enthusiastic in.

Press ganging. People do it so naturally.

Take, for example, birthday parties. A few days ago I found myself obliged to chip in for a certain someone's birthday cake, simply because she had bought me a birthday present (that I neither asked for, nor treasure). I felt that payment was sufficient to convey friendly feelings, but apparently, that was not the case. I found myself invited to a birthday party, and apparently, I cannot refuse this invitation because I 'paid for the birthday cake'. I cannot imagine a situation in which that is logical. It would be more logical to assume that payment had given me more leverage to decide if I want to attend or not.

Nevertheless, I tried to make my unwillingness felt in a socially acceptable manner by saying "Aiyah, no need lar. You all have fun lah. I might have things to do that night." but that evidently did not work. Up until this point, I thought it was widely held that if your invitation was politely rejected three times, it is a signal to back the hell off. Apparently not. I find myself heckled with constant and extremely irritating reminders to "Remember ah!" and "Come come! Or she will be sad!"

I'd like to believe that I know when I am an important part of a person's life. In this case, my presence at the party carries little weightage, and is completely unable to engender feelings of annoyance, let alone sadness.

I found myself in a dire situation. I am certain that the party would be an extremely painful experience. I needed to go out for food. Avoiding the party would mean that I have to explain my absence to the irritatingly insistent person, and that would either mean a convoluted lie, or a detailed truth which I am typing at this moment. Attending the party would mean saying hello to a bunch of people I wouldn't shed a tear for even if they were murdered. Avoiding it would mean extended interaction with a pain in the neck, and a night of hunger.

I went to the party.

I wouldn't call it a party. It's just a cake on a zinc table surrounded by people so dull, they consider it a fitting tribute to a friend. Ate the horrendous cake my money paid for. I would have paid not to eat it. To make matters worse, the pain in the neck decided to introduce the both of us to everyone else at the party. She did it with as much finesse as spaghetti code; pronouncing out names so quickly and waving her hands in our general direction as if to introduce a mildly interesting tabletop decoration. Multiply that by fifteen, as she insisted on introducing us to every single one of her friends. I became intensely irritated. I told her she was cruel. She seemed to brush it off, but thankfully the introductions did not continue. If she had persisted, I would have found some choice words to say very loudly.

After some painful chatter, escape was possible. Seized the moment and said goodbye (and good riddance)

I understand that this post does nothing to improve your perception of me, dear reader. But my purpose is not to improve perception. It is to sharpen. To sharpen your perception of me, so that you know the truth. I do not much care if people like me. It is enough if they know enough about me so that they may avoid forcing me into excruciating situations.

Let me spell it out for you. When you ask me for something, I will:

1) Agree - Meaning I am absolutely certain I want, and will do what you ask me.

2) Hesitate - If I do not give a definite answer, it means I need time to think and I will let you know as soon as I reach a decision.

3) Decline - At which you will have two more shots if you really need me there. I shall assume you are desperate and say yes at the third time if it is really important, but if I really don't want to, I will say no. If the invitations persist for more than three times, you will either find yourself stood up, or faced with an extremely sullen and uncooperative participant.

There are people whose opinions I value far above my own, and to those people I try to give my best. There are also people whose opinions I consider beneath my own, and to those people, I give my blissful ignorance. Until, of course, they start forcing their opinions on me, at which I will treat like a very ugly and unwelcome moth on the ceiling. I will heap my curses on you. Then, I will swat you till the juices bubble out of your body, or I will chase you out the window. At that point, you better wish you can fly.

Unfortunately, I had wanted to start ranting a month ago. I find myself dragged into lunches and meetings and projects that necessitated smiling and pretending to value opinions that are absolutely ridiculous. I would love to rant about a groupmate who I suspect is a personal joke of God's. He must have found it funny to disguise a gormlessly brainless echinoderm as a hominid. Unfortunately, echinoderms have no sense of time and are pitifully retarded when it comes to technology. I pray that He ceases this joke soon, and terminate the pitiful creature's ordeal.

At this point, it occurs to me that this post would have been funnier if it had been a satire. But if it was a satire, you readers would laugh and pat me on the back and say things like "Good one!" and "Pity that starfish." That would have further cemented my reputation as someone not to be taken seriously. It would be fun, but sometimes I need to be taken seriously. This is when you take me seriously.

If I derive neither joy, nor benefit from my interactions with you, I will endeavor to terminate such interaction immediately. And I expect full cooperation.

Thank you.

bierhaus

Went to The Curve with Louisa, Beatrice and Wei Jie yesterday. Since Louisa was there, we naturally went to Borders and ogled at books (Rant: I cannot believe they let another writer touch the Hitchhiker series! Eoin Colfer is nowhere like Douglas Adams! Just because he's funny and lets fairies use guns, you think he can replace Douglas Adams?! Their styles are completely different. Where Colfer excels in making characters that are fantastically good in what they do, Douglas Adams excels in making characters that are fantastically good at sucking. It'll never be the same). Then we wandered around and descended upon toy stores to get Amy a pointless birthday present.

Of course, that was not the point of this trip. We were there for Bavarian Bierhaus.

It felt like a family type of place. Friendly atmosphere, beautiful use of wooden furnishings, and okay service. Food was brilliant! My linguine vongole had 33 juicy clams. Wei Jie and Beatrice liked the bratwurst so much, they didn't feel weird eating (and slicing) what looked like a penis. They didn't like the pickles though (which looked like pubes). Louisa had a salad which I obviously had no interest in.

Drinks. Beatrice had a Zombie, which was green. She wasn't too impressed with it, since the burning aftertaste was weak. Wei Jie had Sex At The Beach, and no one knew why it's called that since it's a dirty olive green. Beatrice's comment on drink: No Sex. I had Bay Breeze, which was orange and tasted like orange juice. Louisa who wanted Zombie ordered Singapore Sling instead. I didn't like it because it brought back memories of cough syrup, but it had loads of kick. Wei Jie had 3 sips, and then he was a goner. Fella seriously cannot hold his alcohol.

Since we (excluding Wei Jie) were still sober, another round of drinks. I had Absolut with soda, that I liked very much. Beatrice had gin and tonic, which she didn't like. Wei Jie had whiskey with coke, that just tasted like coke. At this point, Louisa made Wei Jie say some tongue twisters which amused her to no end. I couldn't care less and concentrated on the vodka.

Still not drunk. Shared a Budweiser. At this point, Louisa and Wei Jie started singing and I was beginning to get pissed off because they were having the alcohol-induced fun that I cannot seem to get. Beatrice was just quietly watching. A drunk Wei Jie may be entertaining at first, but he gets very repetitive and downright boring after a while. Decided to stop trying to get drunk. Huge bill increased feeling of pissed-offness. It's so expensive to get drunk!

Now I am down with Louisa's flu and much much poorer. Not a very enjoyable outing, but an experience nonetheless. Feeling crabby since I have been breathing out of my mouth the entire day. Do you want photos? I'm too lazy to upload now. Need to concentrate on breathing.

another reason to love George Orwell

Ironic Poem About Prostitution
George Orwell

When I was young and had no sense
In far-off Mandalay
I lost my heart to a Burmese girl
As lovely as the day.

Her skin was gold, her hair was jet,
Her teeth were ivory;
I said, "for twenty silver pieces,
Maiden, sleep with me."

She looked at me, so pure, so sad,
The loveliest thing alive,
And in her lisping, virgin voice,
Stood out for twenty-five.

Posting this because Shahril and Zhen Hwang asked to.

The thing about George Orwell is, his words mean different things each time you read them. There are so many layers, so many angles, so many interpretations. But most importantly, this poem brings out bitter laughter, a damn hard emotion to evoke. You laugh, but inside, you're sad that a girl with such outward innocence can be bought (and not even in gold). I can only wish I can write like him. So much depth in so little words. Questioning the appearance of purity (or lack thereof), capturing a part of colonial Vietnam, giving true emotion to one of the most hated of industries (though the most eternally flourishing). And yet we laugh at this desecration of virginity.

Please, read it aloud, as I did. Lovely rhythm and rhyme.

I quote a girl who heard me: I love your poem! When I hear, feel like, seduced.

I suppose Mr. Orwell gets most of the credit...

She actually said 'seduced'! :D :D :D

sometimes

Maxwell Hill, September '09

I feel like I'm dropping higher into the sky.
Do I also sound like I'm on crack?

disaman

Edits: Smudged out ID and IC numbers, and the bit of my signature; switched to B&W mode and adjusted highlights and shadows for clarity. Everything else is evidence.

Sources verify that this is the first of three scrolls of ancient magic that I need to make cash disappear from my wallet.

sparkling

Low Yat is like a permanent PC Fair! Thank god I didn't bring much cash. Level upon level of temptation. I salivate to no end. Nice atmosphere too. A beautifully delicate balance of How Low Can Your RM Limbo? Everyone is here for a bargain, and all the shopkeepers know that. So they go "Best Price! Cheap!" and wink at you like they're only giving it to you. But you know that's not the best price cause she goes and does it to the hot guy with more gusto. Hence, formulated strategy: only buy from male / motherly people. Because I am female (with untuned gaydar) / can make self look hopelessly lost.

Just thought this was funny because you'd expect the competition to be cut-throat around here.

*walks up to Sandisk stall*

mp3 player?

*points to next-door Philips stall*

Yan, I don't know if you'll count this as bargaining, but I did talk to him about cycling in UTAR, Lookout Point, the mooncake festival, part-time jobs, the effect of resistance on sound quality, and jogging. Also, I effectively pointed in the general direction of his crotch and said

Can you take it off for me?

Uh..

The Spark.

Wha-?

mp3 player.

Oh. Heh. Okay.

Amy said I was flirting, but I think that borders on sexual harassment. Everything I say sounds wrong! Come on. You know you're thinking of all the wrong things "The Spark" can be...

Anyway.

Introducing!

>>>>The Spark!<<<<

This spells the end of social interaction for me.

mp3 mission

Going to Low Yat after class. Looking forward to returning a happier but much poorer person.

A personal mission to listen to Canon in D for an entire day has solidified my resolve to get myself an mp3 player. I want crystal clear piano notes, thank you. And I don't want to have to periodically readjust the headphone socket because the stupid connection decided to take a break.

Hence, Philips GoGear Spark. But will probably end up getting the Sansa Clip. You know how it is. You research like hell and you say "Yes! This is it! This is the one for me!" and then you go there and they don't sell that particular model you want. "Try this model lah! Same wan!". But not the model you want (and it's twice the price). Come to think of it right, same thing happens with boyfriends also.

But sometimes right, you just wander around and wonders happen. You suddenly find yourself face to face with the very item you have been looking for all this while but never knew you were looking for it. And you can actually afford it. Rare, but it happens. Of course, if I were to keep with the format of the paragraph above, yes, this happens with boyfriends also.

So, it's either you decide on one, or you fall in love. One is a flame, the other is an explosion.

Of course, there's always eBay.

the rain keeps me up

human heads

cow heads

pig heads

when they blur

things become clear

***

It's all a cycle, isn't it? Empires prosper, empires decay, revolutions start, empires go down, empires start over, empires prosper, empires decay, revolutions start, empires go down. All empires start out as revolutions, and all empires end with revolutions. Everything, no matter how well-intentioned it starts out to be, ends up rotten to the core. Ends up replaced.

***

Amazing, but the girl with no sense of direction managed to locate the pork noodle place to which she had followed a posse of people while trying to talk (and walk) intelligently. It (apparently) serves heavenly pork noodles for which people are willing to wait hours. Pork noodles which I have not tried, as mine was not pre-ordered and there wasn't enough time. So I had coke at a place which (apparently) serves heavenly pork noodles.

I had a debt to collect.

So, yes. The girl with no sense of direction managed to find the place that she does not know the name of in a street she has only seen once during which she was too busy trying not to embarrass herself. All in the name of honour. I will not leave a pork noodle place with a stomach full of coke. So Beatrice and I ordered and we waited for 25 minutes. It was above average. I mean, of course I wouldn't be incredibly impressed after all the hype.

ignore the green

But it was good. Yellow noodles, salty soup, tubes of intestines, slices of liver, real meatballs, bunches of deep-fried fatty skin. You know, the really badass type of food. The this-is-going-to-take-away-two-years-of-my-natural-lifespan-but-screw-it type of food. Oh yeah. Don't know if I can ever find the way back again.

***

After a few false starts, finally, it is confirmed. Amy will be setting foot in Taiping for the Raya holidays. Bus tix all bought and all. She can't back off now! Hah! I will give her the tour of Taiping that I wished I had but never had until it was too late. Will probably skip the tranny part of the tour. Probably. But will definitely show her the saddest place in all Taiping. Tesco. Will also show her hideous former high school. Will not sign her into club swimming pool, but will make her go boating in lake. Maybe tales of mutated Flower Horns will awaken dormant ability to swim.

The sad thing is, I told her so many (embellished) stories of Taiping, but her eyes only lit up when I mentioned I have a decorative piano lying around the house somewhere. Some people, I tell you. I bet my Mum will love her. They will (if I may be so vain) stay up all night talking about me. I might end up having to do a DNA test just to make sure.

Suddenly I have a strong feeling I will be replaced.

***

New book = Contentment

on books

VS Naipaul did not manage to remedy the situation. Yes, he won the Nobel Prize for Literature. Yes, he writes books that are lauded by people better-versed in books than I am. Yes, his insights on life as an Indian in Britain is mind-freshingly blowing. But he's boring. I don't get it. It's just the way he writes. Heavy. Carefully chosen words, yes, but somehow carefully chosen to make me speed through the darn book so that I can get it over with. Maybe it's just his material. He finds it so interesting to distinguish between East-Indians and West-Indians and whatnot. I cannot even begin to fathom how different the East Indies are from the West. Maybe his real books will be different. I hope to god they are.

Onwards to a better book! Animal Farm by George Orwell, currently a beloved writer of mine. I read it before, but was too young to appreciate what's going on beneath the writing pigs. I hope I'll see better this time around. Already promised myself to read 1984 when I am planning to vote (which seems like a long long time in coming). Here's to an insightful journey! I have a feeling it's going to be beautiful. This copy is old and yellow and indestructible, just like mine was.

Also stumbled upon The Secret Life of Poems by Tom Paulin. Awful title, I know, but it has this bit about nursery rhymes I want to read. They sound so pleasing, they don't have to make sense! And when you put sense and keep the meter, the magic's gone. Fascinating. It's like Kurt Schwitters' Ursonate performed by Jaap Blonk. There is much to read into gibberish.

Beatrice said something about going to Ampang this Saturday? Should I go? The flesh is willing but the mind is weak. Next week is going to be hell and I don't have a Calculus 3 slave chained to my bedpost ready to swallow questions and vomit explanations. But I'll probably just end up watching more Top Gear episodes. But I don't know for sure. Gaaaa.

periodic ponderings

Today we shall conduct a short discourse on another topic that is distasteful to the general population. So distasteful, in fact, that it had spawned many many euphemisms: That-Time-of-The-Month, My-Best-Friend, The-Monthly-Visitor, Aiyah-That-Wan-Ah, and my personal favorite, One-Over-Frequency.

Let's get to it. My period is 2 weeks early. Last time, it didn't come for 7 weeks! I found myself muttering "You did not have sex. You did not have sex." and was quite relieved when the blood finally started. Now, it comes early. Compensating, maybe? Not a very nice way to compensate, if you ask me. I thought menstruation should be regular by the time a girl hits the late teens. Guess my hormones just won't behave. But it's okay. That means I get to swim when I get back to Taiping!

I wonder how the world would be like if guys get the period too. You can see them clutching their hips, you can see them complaining about how it messes with their exercise, you can see them comparing how fast they can change their sanitary pads, you can see them throwing things at people who get on their frazzled nerves, you can see them drink tea from thermos flasks, you can see them poking critically at the inviting-looking sanitary pad on display, and so on. What! Funny mah! It's not that hard to imagine Shahril menstruating and throwing tantrums and getting all snappy and emo and stuff. Go on, agree with me.

***

A friend just told me that he will never ever be gay because the thought of another person's balls hitting his own is simply too awful to bear. Is it just me, or is it just really hard to imagine? If any of you die from this strenuous mental exercise, let me know if you see anything.

***

A pseudo-plan to go Irish this Saturday has been shelved in favor of staying in Akasia watching Dr Who while everyone else studies for Calculus 2.

***

My comment on the cow-head incident: My comment will have to be censored.

***

Also, Disney bought Marvel. And I had a blast breaking the news to Amy and Charis. Poor souls.

***

To the girl who waved to me in the library: My cornea was dented because I was sleeping with my eyeballs pressed to my arm. I was not frowning at you; I was squinting. Couldn't see properly, so if I know you, I'm sorry. If I don't know you, then yes, I do always look that good when I wake up ;)

Guys, this is how I score with girls.

***

This has got to be the weirdest period-induced blogpost I've ever done.

semi-collected thoughts

It's amazing how lonely it can get here, considering the population per unit area. Oh well. Maybe it's just me. Non-existent conversation with Amy today, which is, honestly, unheard of. She just looks so tired, I didn't dare to even try to make her agonize over a (probably) disastrous Bio test. We didn't even laugh at horoscopes from The Onion today. And I think she's mad about something. I don't know exactly what because she never said. But she did watch a bit of Dr Who, so she's (probably) not depressed (yet). Come to think of it, I didn't hear her laugh today.

Am I starting to sound lesbianish? I'm beginning to suspect myself too. The signs are there. But the interest in checking out guys is still there, so maybe I'm bi. Can't say I'm surprised. A bisexual has everything to gain, and nothing to lose. Besides, easier to find attractive girls than attractive guys. Probably because I go easier on girls. On second thoughts, scratch bisexual. This feels more like pansexual.

Am I creeping you out? I'm sure I am, with all this uncomfortably voyeurish accounts of my roommate and disturbingly honest reflections on my orientation. And these are the things I put in my blog. Imagine what I think and keep to myself. I just realized that I am very probably creeping people out when I talked to KayJay about 'the shifting middle' and how the average always shifts whenever an extreme is introduced so there is no point telling people it's good to be average when people are discovering more and more ways to do evil stuff, so if they keep to the middle they're going to get progressively more evil anyway. This naturally leads to a realization that individuals have their own notion of 'a normal person' and that I might not entirely fit comfortably in that range for a great number of individuals even if I think I am being 'normal'. I am only interested in this so that I know what not to do when hanging out with people so that they don't do the scrunched-eyebrow-i-don't-know-what-you're-saying-and-i-don't-want-to-know thing. Normally, had I had enough human-human interaction, I would probably say "Screw their normal. I am the normal."

Renuhaa tried to pair me up with a guy today. She had to think for about 5 minutes and had to run through about six names before settling on one. And even then, she didn't get any joy :D I am THAT unthinkably unpairable! I feel a misplaced sense of pride. Funny, you'd think people would learn by now that I keep my love life private and that they'll never hear about it from me until it's over (special people excluded). Speculate all you want, but the guy you think I like is never the guy I really like.

The pimple-formation is fading away. For 5 days, I had a pentagon on my forehead. It was awesome :(

A bad book has very detrimental effects on me. That Tractor book by that Lewcyka woman was chick lit, no matter how many high-brow publications laud it for being 'hilarious' and whatnot. Too bad I can't stand not finishing books, so I spent days skipping sentences and putting up with cookie-cutter 'round' characters who rediscover familial ties while battling a deliberately busty 'flat' character. Bah. It was one of the very rare times I return library books before the deadline. I hope V.S. Naipaul can remedy the situation.

It seems that posts filled with random topics like this one rarely generates much comment. I am still wondering why.

Friendships decay. They do. No matter how many times you say forever, no matter how many plans you have for the future, the day will come when you realize you have nothing to say to each other. And everything falls apart.

And, as if the gods are trying to play me like a marionette, right after I typed the last line, Yan and I are having so much fun talking about car trips.

Ironically, the greatest thing about life is the irony of life itself.

He really is hot, you know.

Really?

Really.

a less rare display of goodwill

To Amy. And her classmates.

If you are going to fail, fail with enough sleep! Go to sleep at eight, like Beatrice. She's going to be all bright and perky for tomorrow's failure. Don't stay up all night trying to read 300 pages worth of organic stuff. Those things are better off digested. So go and get some beauty sleep, alright? Fail with confidence! And dignity! And great hair!

Amy's schedule:

Wednesday : Bio Midterm, Chem Quiz

Thursday : C++ Midterm, 2 Calculus 2 Quizzes

Friday (which is her no-class day) : Chem Midterm

You cannot imagine her expression when she saw me bopping away to Weezer's newest while asking God why Fallout 2 won't play. Now she is trying to figure out why I always seem like I have nothing to do. Also, I believe she wants to kill me.

I am going to cut my toenails in front of her. Just to see what happens.

Hot damn. I forgot. Physics Test.

But really, maybe you Biotechies are just freaked out over the last test, yes? We (and by 'we' I mean 'I') have faith (probably misplaced) that your Bio lecturer will (probably) ease up this time around. Here's to hope.

a rare display of goodwill

To Miss Lee Yan Ming, my dear dear friend. Because I can't see you on MSN now.

Best wishes for your test this Saturday. May the best answers magically burn themselves into your line of sight. Remember, trace according to the dotted lines and no harm will befall you. You'll do just fine. After all, you've traded your creativity for intellectual superiority, no? You'll do good. Don't worry!

We will reboot you this Sunday :)

Yes she is single.

yellow ribbons on a raintree

It started with strains of "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round The Old Oak Tree", strangely discordant. Then light. I saw the Lake Gardens. I was moving, like in a car, but that raintree was there, unmoving. It was covered with yellow ribbons, from where the trunk branches to the smallest leaves. Yellow ribbons, fluttering in the sunset breeze. A yellow raintree. Song ends.

A heartbeat.

Shrill sound starts. Like an audible dog whistle. Sound waves ripple the lake. Yellow ribbons convulse, then start floating up into the orange sky. Really weird stuff started floating up too. Pink umbrella. A pair of blue sneakers tied together. A hiccuping green piano. That bird Kevin from Up was flying into the red sun.

A neigh amidst the shrilling.

This horse-thing climbed out from the lake. White like a penguin's chest. Glittery blue hooves. Eyes that mesmerize. Neighed again and unfolded wings. Butterfly wings, coloured like a peacock, shedding wing-dust with every movement. Things shrivel and die when touched by wing-dust. It's name was Polyp. What the fuck.

Ran.

It chased. Grabbed floating lightsaber and tried to hack off freaky wings. It bit left elbow. Fucking hell, carnivore. Yelled at passing transvestite for help. Dude coughed and asked for ashtray. Yelled at Polyp to get him a goddamn ashtray. Polyp continued flapping freaky wings. Saw tent. Ran in, zipped everything up. Sat down feeling safe.

Then remembered corrosive wing-dust.

Tried getting out, tent starting to sizzle. Hooves pressed against orange polymer. Yelled something about tent being flame-retardant. Tent going, going, gone. Put on military-issue gas mask. Grabbed Chinese calligraphy brush and stabbed Polyp in eye. Root beer gushed out. Crazy horse start stamping. Ran away.

It threw right wing at me.

Hit.

Dissolved in wing-dust.

***

I think I just had a nightmare. Well, more like a Butterfree-Ponyta-hybrid-mare, but you get the picture. Interpret this, you dream interpreters! I dare you! Hah! There were so many of them little things floating up into the sky all the while that Polyp thing was giving chase, but I thought the flapping horse was supposed to be the center of attention, no? I say little, but I'm pretty sure a purple bison was calling for help somewhere behind that transvestite.

Notice how a beautiful beautiful dream degenerated into swearing and stabbing. Just about sums me up, I suppose. A degenerator, capable of turning everything into nothing.

Lovely sunset though.

Finnegan's that ends with hotness

I thought an outing with Beatrice and Wei Jie would be awkward, with Beatrice looking on skeptically as I try to keep up a conversation with Wei Jie by asking him about stuff [which would most probably concern Calculus or his girlfriend (Ex? Does it matter?)]

Awkward my foot.

Started out having light breakfast at KFC with Beatrice since Wei Jie took so long to get to the bus-stop. Bus to MidValley. Stare at directory looking for Japanese food. Oooo pub. Irish food? Wanna try? Why not? Sure! Go.

I felt out of place because we look so juvenile compared to the other worldly patrons. But our booth felt so cosy and secluded, couldn't help loosening up. Got excited over alcoholic drinks. Remembered age. Settled for a mocktail. The older people ordered amusingly-named cocktails. Beatrice wanted a Brain Haemorrhage and Wei Jie wanted a Blowjob.

I'll have the Beef and Guinness Pie and a Blowjob please.

said Wei Jie to the waiter. Silence. Then the kids started laughing.

Food was delicious. But of course, the kids were more interested in the alcohol. When the Brain Haemorrhage came, it was so small, we went like, wtf RM18.90? But it's yummy! Begins with a malty taste and mellows to a slight burning sensation. Beatrice recommends. As for Blowjob, we understood immediately why it was called that. White foam topped the glass and flowed down onto the saucer. Decent folk might want to skip the rest of this paragraph because now I shall

start being retardedly foul. It must have been one helluva Blowjob to generate so much semen. Foamy ones at that. Very disturbing to see Wei Jie sip it because he got a foam mustache and it looked like he just blew someone. Probably the waiter. I tried the Blowjob but I don't like it much. Banana liquor tastes weird.

After Happy2Hours at Finnegan's, life feels so sad. Shopping for clothes felt like a necessity. Meh.

Went to Krispy Kreme for tea. Food was unremarkable, but conversation was fascinating. Same thing with dinner at some sushi place. Actually the food was quite good lah, but Finnegan's is like, the standard, you know? Now everything else is forgettable. Stayed till closing time at sushi place because we were too busy talking about 'important' stuff to care whether we can make it back before curfew.

Journey back on KTM was the shortest I've felt. Sat on glittery floor talking. Reach Shah Alam station, no taxi. Jalan balik Akasia. It felt very unsafe so we armed ourselves with sharp stones, as if it would help much. But it was an experience. Wouldn't recommend it, but you do feel the primal defence mechanisms clicking into place.

Didn't make curfew. Lazy climb pagar.

Shah Alam streets are so peaceful at 3am. Felt like everyone died and we inherit the earth.

Slept at KFC. Bad for neck.

Woke up to the prospect of ending all this random weird behaviour. Tak sampai hati, but of course, we do what we must.

Thus ends what passes as an awesome adventure for sheltered middle-class scholarship-holders.

***

There is something about Nutella that makes you want to dip all five fingers into the jar, make swirls, pull out slowly and lick every single molecule.

I am rather proud of my presentation on modern China. I justify this pride with a total of 8 hours of research and the fact that Jennita actually listened. Rambling about stuff you like is always fun! Note to self: Practice speech before making speech. Some things just don't sound as good as they look as text. Try saying "Cox Report" in front of your rather conservative Civilization lecturer. I hope she did not see my face spasm.

Krystal gave me Psych!

Lastly, I like this guy!

this will start out as crayon physics

A quick post to delay my return back to Calculus.

Today I saw Louisa laugh the hardest I have ever seen. And all I did was show her Crayon Physics. Crayon Physics is awesome! Yes it is! Play! Play! Louisa's genius brother just downloaded the full version! Ask me for it! Ask! Crayon Physics!

Also, play Spore! Learn all that is wrong about evolution!

Yes. I have substituted people interaction with game interaction. Okay what. They make good conversation.

Amy is telling me that she dreamt of Beatrice doing Calculus. This isn't the first time she had a Calculus-related dream. She's nuts.

In fact, I think everyone's gone nuts about Calculus. Am I the only one who doesn't do Calculus exercises? Stop making me feel like a lazy asshole, playing Spore in the library everyday while you people buzz around trying to integrate stuff that want to stay differentiated.

I could start emo-ing about how the airplane of my life is locked on autopilot heading to the wrong continent, but I'm too full of Spore to bother.

Should I try out the Papaya+Milk=Boobs experiment?

Speaking about boobs, I want to congratulate a certain someone about her praised. I was right! You're hot! Stop denying it!

I am going to Midvalley on Saturday because I want new clothes. Ron also wants new clothes, so he's tagging along. Beatrice, who is the most desperate to escape this godforsaken place, wants to get....something. What she wants, is anyone's guess. A piercing, maybe. And can someone please make Amy come with us? It's been a long time since she went out. She no longer listens to me. And yes, I like how pathetically lonesome the previous sentence sounded.

Sorry Charis for bailing out on you. I tried explaining, but you know how protective parents can be.

Oh ya. Kawanku Jane telah berkata bahawa pemindahan ke WordPress amatlah memafankan. Jadi saya tidak akan pindah. Buat masa ini. Ingin cuba sejauh mana kemafanan yang akan dihadapi.

ennui

Am I losing my sense of humour? Funny things don't seem blog-worthy anymore, all of a sudden.

As it is, I am thoroughly sick of life. My life lah. Calculus, Chemistry, Physics, Calculus, Chemistry, Physics. Perpetually perpetuated. A cycle a cycle. Of course, I entertain myself. I'm playing Sims 3 and Plants Vs Zombies and Spore. I'm reading Madame Bovary and The Trial simultaneously. I'm listening to Tchaikovsky.

And yet, and yet.

The evasion of boredom engenders a great awareness of boredom which engenders a greater sensitivity to boredom which in turn engenders boredom itself.

Yet, is it boredom? Maybe it is merely a long-held revulsion to routine resurfacing for some air. Maybe it is Brown? The kind of feeling when you feel like you're glimpsing parallel realities. You feel like you don't belong, like part of you went off on its own journey, its own destiny and you know you're missing it? Yet I think not. My life is, amazingly enough, little affected by this Brown thing.

A friend has a very simplistic solution.

You need a boyfriend.

Amusing. To talk to? I talked about this already. Didn't work. To care for? I am too lazy. To belong to? I need no owner. Since friends didn't work, I don't think I need a boyfriend. What differentiates a friend and a boyfriend anyway? The 'boy', that's what. The only difference between a friend and a boyfriend is the sex.

I need sex?

Huh.

The Penn-State guy once tried to explain the concept of 'coupling' to me. Sounds too romantic to me. Real deals don't work like that. You get that endorphin rush because you are attracted to your partner because your body is telling you to go mate. If not, there will be no chemicals and therefore, no chemistry. What, you'd date someone you won't mate with? I'd like to know why.

Ennui.

The world can go die and I can't care.

updated notification

No wonder people have been coming up to me asking. Rupa-rupanya people do read this blog.

I am not flying this year.

JPA won't let me even after I appealed and appealed again. Plan now is to go back to INTEC, do my ACTP and apply again. Not much of a plan, but I can't seem to think of a better one right now. Unless I can like, hang a banner the size of Petronas Twin Towers saying

SEND SUIYING TO BROWN!

and hope for an anonymous donor.

Yes, I am bummed, yes I have a few words to say about JPA, yes I prefer Brown to INTEC. I am 'The Girl Who Didn't Go To Brown'. I just missed the chance of a lifetime. I just missed SexPowerGod. Yes.

But I emo finish already wor. How? Move on lor.

To those who think I'm depressed, I suggest you talk to me :) Else, if you're cool with this, I just want to multitask and tell you that I plan to lock this blog and move to Wordpress because I like the controls better. Url to be announced when I have had a halfway decent cup of coffee.

Feels weird being the only academically challenged person to get into Brown.

mcFlurry

I just realized I can't remember the last time I had one.

:O

notifications. because i have too many posts titled 'update'.

I might not be going to Brown after all. Remember JPA said I have to get admitted into one of the listed universities AND score > 3.5?

Guess what.

Yeah.

Of all the almost-impossible things to do, I managed to do this. 0.12 short and an Ivy League education hangs in the balance. No one to blame but myself, letting a personal crisis affect my grades like that. Wonder why Brown wants a delinquent like me.

I sent my appeal to JPA already so.. fingers crossed :)

Pending their decision, I will be returning to INTEC for Fall (and Calculus 2). On one hand, I get to see familiar faces again. On the other, I might not be going to Brown. So don't feel hurt if I don't scream with joy and bear-hug you, alright? And don't get all mushy and sympathetic when you see me, okay? Just.. cross your fingers with me every now and then.

Bussing back this Sunday and will be wandering rather lostly around INTEC looking for Indiana on Monday even though I should be going to Providence. I don't know who goes there and I missed 3 days of class already. So yes, I am rather screwed. Who knows, I may land right smack into the first Calculus 2 quiz? In case you missed my hints, I am now blatantly asking you knowledgable people about classes in INTEC, specifically the identities of the inhabitants of Indiana (Indians?).

Alright, since the notifications are done, let's move on to more 'suiying' concerns. The thought of explaining my current situation to people rather sickens me because, hey, who likes talking about not going to Brown, right? Especially when you're so close. But if you're a friend, I won't mind because your reactions are sure to be interesting. Someone suggested I hang a card around my neck and point when directed questions on my presence in INTEC. Another suggested 'business cards'. But I have no illusions about my popularity so I won't bother :)

There. So much for notification. Don't pop your eyeballs when you see me at INTEC.

And Amy, I love you. <3<3<3

needles

I had to get my blood tested for stuff lately, so of course I have stories to tell. My doctor took a sample yesterday for Hepatitis A. He tapped my right forearm a bit while I tried to warn him that getting blood from me is nasty business. He laughed, tied elastic around my arm, told me to clench my fist, dabbed alcohol and pulled the suckers out while talking to my aunt. Yeah, he got style. Seeing the vial filled with my blood, knowing they came from only one poke, my brain was screaming "First bloood! Firsst blooodddd!!". I was proud.

Then today I went back for my Hep A shot (because tests showed I wasn't immune) and for another sample-taking. So there I was feeling so confident that it's going to be as effortless as yesterday. Siap clench fist already some more. My doctor tried to get the needle into the same vein yesterday but when he pulled, nothing came out.

The following words in blue are purely mental. Physically, I nodded and grimaced.

O Sht.

Hmmm. The vein's sealed already.

*taps left arm*

*taps right arm*

Hmmm..

*wills vein to unseal*

*squints at right hand*

O no. Not the hand veins.

*taps back of right hand*

Nurse, give me a butterfly please.

O sht.

Now, this is a butterfly syringe. It is used when taking blood from the hand, especially with people like you, who don't seem to have any veins *chuckles*

Hand more pain receptors than arm. Sht.

Okay, don't move.

Sht!

*inserts needle*

*feels lifeblood draining rapidly*

Hmm. The blood is barely flowing today.

Wtf?

*talks about random stuff with aunt*

*tries not to pass out*

*continues trying not to pass out*

Okay. That should be just enough.

*feels pulling sensation*

*opens eyes*

*sees needle sticking out of hand*

*tries not to pass out*

Biologically, I suppose this happened: Body interprets needle as threat. Blood vessels contract. Body prioritizes. Bloodflow to important organs increase, resulting in decreased bloodflow to extremities. Or something. Correct me if I'm wrong. This stupidly mild case of trypanophobia is frustrating. It's mild, so you'll just have to grit your teeth and take it. But it's there, so you WILL have to grit your teeth when you take it. I honestly was close to passing out. It's the butterfly syringe. It freaks me out.

The thing about syringes is, they don't react to anything. They don't cringe when you swear at them. They don't cower when you stare at them. They don't run when you thrust a burning torch at them. They don't die. They don't dream. They don't want.

They just glint.

They glint in this disturbingly smug way, knowing that you will have to meet them "for your own good". They know they won't kill you, but they know they can. They know they can plunge right into your body and plunge right out, leaving just this circular round mark no one notices. They know they are a necessity. They know you would let them in without a struggle, fighting your primordial instinct to repel sharp foreign objects. They know you know they will break and splinter into your bloodstream if you so much as take a swipe at them.

So they just glint.

Okay. Now for your Hep A shot.

Sht.

initial reaction to initials

Attention to high school friends, especially Ooi Ee Jane.

I'M BACK.

And free to hang out, at least until next Monday. Was actually back on Friday but was not free to hang out. So I didn't tell. Don't want to make you pine for me too long, you see. Too bad can't meet up with Khai Li and whoever else who went to IPTAs yesterday. Oh well. Always another time.

***

Bloody documents. They're all so ittybittynittygritty and yet so important. Do. Everything. Online. Jeez.

***

While filling one of them ittybitty papers, I realized that my initials in the US are SYT. Which stands for Sweet Young Thing. And can also stand for, horrors, Sexy Young Thing. Die lah. Expectations, my friends, are never good. Imagine you're walking along some road and you stepped on this cool-looking blue digital watch and you turn it around and it says SYT in lovely curly engraving. You turn around looking for someone who looks like their name can be SYT so that you can give the watch back. and maybe get her phone number. Someone taps your back. You turn around. And see me. And I say: Yo. Thanks. That's my watch. SYT. Yeah. Me.

My already-limited social life is now cursed with people lifting their eyebrows discreetly while thinking "SYT?"

Blah. I'll just lift an eyebrow back and say: So You Think. Haha.

Or I can just cave in and BECOME an SYT.

Sarcastic Young Thing

Shouldn't take much effort.

contentment

Many things have happened since the last time I wrote something. Did this, did that, surprised myself, surprised others, let down myself, let down others. But they are all nothing - nothing compared to this one fleeting moment of lucidity. The moment I realize how perfect you are for me.

grarh

Damn pms. I am so tired. Everything irritates me. My left toe hurts. My left eyebrow itches. I can feel my ovaries threatening to cramp. Damn pms. Damn you. I feel so hungry. Fooood foooood. My temper is short. I feel disoriented.

Thank you, lord. For internet. Thank you for Louisa. Thank you for well-engineered bras. Thank you for interesting towel patterns.

The hell. Why am I typing this.

Anyway, to everyone I talked to today, sorry if i sliced a chink off your heart. I hope you won't judge me on one day. Because, ironically, today I happen to talk to more people than I usually do. Which is usually 4. Today I talked to 8. Wow.

Ohkay. Now that my sweat has dried, I can finally sleep and escape from these earthly bonds.

Again, sorry for being a bitch today. I'll make it up to you. Especially to you, Louisa.

weekend at port dickson

Since it was the school holidays and all, my dad decided to drive up to Shah Alam and whisk the family off for a vacation at Port Dickson. Well, not exactly Port Dickson lah. The hotel was at Tanjung Tuan which is about 5 km from Port Dickson. But same lah. I have always been secretly disturbed by the acronym for Port Dickson. It is the same acronym my brother uses for PonDan (transvestites to the more refined). So when my dad called and said "Pack your swimming things. We are taking you to PD." I felt like an unwanted daughter.

The hotel was a 4 on a scale of 10. My small room initially had the stink of socks which thankfully dissipated after a while. No central switch system, so I had to crawl out of my lovely warm blanket nest to turn off the lights before I sleep. Bed was enjoyably bouncy. Bathtub was the standard no-frills kind. My balcony opened to a patch of lawn and the pool. Pool was an ugly shade of bluish-green and too small for my liking. Could barely see 30cm underwater, maybe due to that nasty habit of hotel guests to jump in right after they rolled around on the beach.

The PD (haha) beach wasn't all that great. Sand texture was powdery enough but it was beige, not white. The sea was a dull greyish-green. Probably due to the horrible haze. And the coconut trees were planted, not washed ashore. Gotta have natural coconuts. None of them neat-coconut-trees-in-a-row thing. Those greatly diminish the beachy feel of a beach. Oh, and I witnessed the worst sunset I have ever seen.

As the final rays of the sinking sun sped forth

from the rippling horizon

through the darkening sky

they hit

big

grey

resolutely opaque

clouds of H2O and dust

and fell as ponies

into the sea

Translation: I sat on the beach and looked at the sky for about 2 hours before I realized the goddamn sun set already.

Rant as I may, facilities don't actually matter that much in my beach holidays. Had a great time sipping ice-cold 7up on my deck-chair while watching heat rays beat down on people choking in the pool. Submerged self in lavender bubbles. Tried writing in the sand before realizing my territory was crawling with crabs and ended up filming their miserable pilgrimage to a spot that is, somehow, better. The sand is indeed always beiger on the other side. Played beach volleyball with a Nigerian woman who spoke English to me like I barely left pre-school. She has humongous boobs. That was how I identified her from her other friends. Every time she sends the ball back, I have this irrational urge to check whether she hit the ball or her boobs to me. Shoot me. Also tried riding one of those double bicycles and cleverly grabbed metal fence to stop fall. Blew bubbles with brothers. Kidnapped 3 hermit crabs to torment after spending 5 hours sitting on the beach doing nothing.

A pointless, mellow kind of fun. But I prefer Pangkor.