March 29, 2009

Your Worth.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

And IM-es

First off, what nonsense are you spouting, Danielle? And why in the world did you just slip that piece of paper under my door? You know I hate it when you pen me a new pseudo poison-pen letter. I don't care if you're trying to experiment your new heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching, mind-wreching prank letters on me, but please cease this pointless drivel. I know you're ecstatic that Mrs. Rowland said your essay was perfect, but it doesn't mean I'll just let you continue playing havoc with my feelings.


Oh, and Mamman just as asked me to ask your Mama if you're coming over for dinner tomorrow night.

You're lucky Mamman didn't find that letter. Or I'd skin you alive, Danielle O'Connor.

::Sent by Sophie Dorwood by IM at 4.36 p.m.::


In case you smart people have not noticed, I'm working on something here. I'd love some feedback. But if I don't demand any. I'm just playing around with my characters.

Fun, really.

Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete?


My Worth.

As dictated by Faranza Syns


It isn't not worth it, is it?

Feelings, emotions.

Sometimes, I slip and make the mistake of thinking that I've matured. Believing that I have grown. But just as always, a series of events grabs me by the hair, yanking me back to this pitiful position. Scared and tainted. What could you do with feelings? You write tales of love and sorrow. You delve into the characters, giving them the brief breath of life.

Other than that?

No, don't answer.

Because it's all worthless. It's not worth it all.

There are those fleeting moments when I think that all of this is safe. That I am in sync with feelings as an ocean is with the sand. That I could handle it with the confidence of conceited youth. That loving your friends is a haven against those chaotic feelings of loving a stranger.

But I'm wrong, aren't I? Its worse.

Because when it hurts, there might never be a way to heal it.

Because I've ruined it. And I don't want to fix it.

I really don't want to.

Because I know no matter how much I try to pretend it's okay between us, you'll keep on summoning up ghosts from the past. You keep digging for skeletons. You keep tossing that between us.

Could it be that you're tired of this, too?

Because I know I am.

Let's both play another game, shall we?

When you pass me by the corridors, just say 'hi' and walk right on by.

Because those precious few memories between the two of us I am trying to bury. It's not your fault. But it was mine. So it's better if we just play pretend, act as if everything's okay, and we're fine. Because I know there will be a time when your own friends will turn to you, telling you that you're better off without me. And I will be stamped the criminal.

The animosity would be overwhelming. So I am saving my ass now. And we'll both be fine.

I thought that loving your girl friends would be a smooth ride. I guess not.

I suppose it's not worth it.

From Danielle O'Connor to Sophie Dorwood.


The workload is getting crazy now. I'm lucky to even be able to touch the computer now.

Hectic, hectic. And I don't have time for those kind of sappy rants anymore. So if you see that this blog has not moved an inch, think of it as "Faranza went into hybernation to use up all the fat she has stored."

And you'll be fine.

I need to cool off. Don't talk to me if you love me.

I'm not afraid to keep on living,
I'm not afraid to walk this out alone.


March 27, 2009

A Stand

As dictated by Faranza Syns

I, at this moment, make a stand so unshakable that it will withstand the elements for milleniums, for centuries gone dead.

I am a pushover.

I am a 'lalang', in other words.

Does anyone want to disagree? I have to tell you, it won't be easy. This is by far my most unshakable stand yet.

And that's saying a lot.

Should've known better than to cheat a friend.


March 26, 2009


As dictated by Faranza Syns

I seriously don't know the whole story. Two people from my blog list are currently at odds with each other. The vendetta doesn't seem to be showing any signs of abating.

Ah. I seriously have no idea what to say.

But talking face to face is better than venting on blogs, don't you think? Labeling said person with X-es, Y-s and Z-s, He-s and She-s...

But then again, forcing girls to change their MO is like asking the sky to breed cows. Or flying pigs. Not favourable and definitely an impossibility.

Girls will be girls. I'm one and I know. And I have done the aforementioned things. Label people, that is. What? Did you think I was going to just name my crush? Pffft.

But it's kind of sad. Sometimes I admire guys and their brick-wall of unity. Backstabbing is a no-no. It's just not in them. They are blunt and agonizingly straightforward.

But ever so emotionally inept at times.

Ah, the world is in balance yet again. I can now sleep with cherubs in mind.

I'll give you lace and leather.


March 25, 2009

If a Song Could Get me You.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

News flash:

  • After Ian's revelation that Twilight's plot was unique in a way, I might actually muster enough energy to ask Xin Huei for a copy.

  • Timothy is on another anti-Twilight propaganda. Tsk, I would've fallen hard for you had Ian not been so logical about it all, Timothy.

  • I still have a bone (make that a thousand bones) to pick with Habibah.

  • I am wheezing every morning now. Yay? Dammit.

  • Tomorrow's the first EduBox Media class. Now, this is truly the right time to say "Yay!".

  • I totally love the strip Yin posted up in her blog, dedicated to me. Awww, that was so cool, sweetie.

  • I love the pressies that you people have given me. Thanks so much! Will compose a different post over that one later.

  • Someone in class is very obsess-able. Guess who.

  • I miss my sexay lady. Yes, I actually meant my Wei Gin.

  • I miss Afzan. A lot. But not enough to switch to Maxis.

  • Laine, how come you aren't smacking my hard-to-resist arse anymore?

  • Ms. Nur is very cute when she can't hold her bladder. "I need to go, I need to go!" And jump, jump, jump. Adorable.

  • Ah yes. This morning, Ms. Nur just realised that I am in PPIM. In my PINK uniform.

Announcement: Form 5's stay back for SPM announcements.
Form 5's: *GASP*.
Ms Nur: Why are they so shocked? *turns to me, who has been taking care of the Form 5 section*
Me: Haha.
Ms. Nur: It's only SPM.... *PAUSES. Stares at me.*.... Eh, kenapa comel sangat ni?
Me: Ha?
Ms Nur: Alah, comellah. *starts acting all bubbly on me.*

Should I slaughter someone, or be super proud that I am chubby enough to still be considered cute at 17? I choose the former. Know any dead men?

  • I have a not-so-transparent crush on Marit Larsen. You know, she was the other member of M2M beside Marion Raven. She has such a nice, youthful voice (after being abused constantly by enthusiastic exclamations of "oh, Farhana's so cute!" when I actually want to be looked at as grown-up instead, I try hard not to abuse anyone else by saying they have a childish voice. I do have empathy, you know.)

  • I've finally found out why Pn. Sheela circled "out of the blue" in my essay. It turns out that the phrase actually means applies when you see someone you've not seen for a long time. Gad, how misguided have I been?

  • I don't want to take Tasawwura Islam as an extra subject for SPM. Ten is enough, for goodness' sake!

  • Revelation: Ian and I can occasionally think on the same wavelengths. And NO, Ian, unless you grovel, I am not going to give you those software CD's.

I could try it with a waltz,
I could try it rock'n'roll,
I could try it with a blues,
If a song would do.


March 22, 2009

I don't know much.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Somehow, I can't stand it when people put pictures of artistes as their display picture. Be original for goodness' sake. Artistes already have PR companies and spin doctors working for them.

For some reason, I have an aversion to people who try a little too hard. Going a little too overboard. Moderation is key?

Drinking chilled drinks at 2 in the morning is an indulgence of mine.

So is Sarsi at 1 in the morning.

I'm in love with my cousin. No. I was joking. Just checking if you were paying attention.

Because if I were you, I'd have closed this window and wonder why this blogger is being nonsensical.


School's about to reopen.

And I want to splurge as much as I can right now.

My case is lock and loaded,
Fool, I'm about to walk out on you.


I have long forgiven you.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

You know with certainty that I can never hold a grudge for long. It's something I must I'm not good at.

I am a lousy lalang. I lack the fundamentals of a backbone. I build resolutions that crumble to dust by the next week.

I believe I've made my point clear.

And so, sweetheart, I am not mad at you. Period. Maybe we can't change the fact that it happened, but we can always live with it.

So, we'll frame this in our hall of memories. One day, we'll look back down this hall, and smile at the silliness of our youth.

Silly youth with its overdone frivolity.


Kak Dyana is currently going through her exams. Thus, naturally, at each moment possible, she would revise.

She's training to become a doctor.

Must say, it was very interesting, the materials she was reading. I even sat beside her and read her stuff. She loves it when I do that. In fact, right after I came back from the restroom, she patted the spot beside her and said "Come, Farhana, let's study."

Ha. I barely passed Bio and I am reading Medic now? Priceless.

The conversation that comes up is ... interesting too.

Me: Effects of excessive TH (thyroid hormone).... bla.. bla.. wow! It causes loss of weight. I want it.
Dyana: Just take hyperthyroid pills.
Me: Ish! What kind of doctor are you? Soliciting information on drugs like that!
Dyana: Haha!
Me: ....Which pills should I take?
Dyana: Ish, Farhana ni merepek aje!

Kak Dyana also has this annoyingly infectious habit of giggling-cum-laughing-cum-chuckling.

When she does that, I'll look at her, and then I'll start giggling-cum-laughing-cum-chuckling too. And then, we'll never stop. It'll go on and on. Until we get tired of laughing.

Me: Ack! Excessive TH on sexual functions... causes impotency in males! Causes drop of libido if lacking TH! Eeek!
Dyana: Of course.
Me: Can I have hyperthyroid without the side-effects?
Dyana: ... No.

And then we stared at each other. And started the giggling phase. That moved on to the chuckling phase. And moved on to the laughter phase.

Kak Dee, you are priceless.

Ten steps from your bed to your door.
Ten steps and I'll see you no more.
I'm about to break your heart,
Or so I hope.


March 20, 2009

The Best that You Could Hope For.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

A certain spot on my face, under my fringe, is stinging. Why, you ask?

Last night, the night that my relatives from Penang were supposed to arrive here in KL, I helped Mama prepare the night's feast: home-cooked chicken rice.

And yes, a main component of that would have to be the chicken.

And how do you usually prepare it? Frying, no?

And frying involves a pan, and fire and hot, crackling oil.

Naturally, the thing crackled a lot. And as my luck would have it, the thing exploded on my face.

Okay, that is overly dramatic. Actually, only a little of the oil managed to get on my face. But it was painful.

Hence, the stinging sensation on my face.

Great, eh?


Me and Aja have been performing a transaction. Well, it's actually only her. She gave me Tokio Hotel songs. Gahaa.

Here we go. My dad's going to start with his "Monotonous song-- play something else" phase.

This morning, I played "Kiss Me Through The Phone" for my cousin (since she wanted it bad). Then, I left the computer playing the song so that I could go eat breakfast in peace. Then, my cousin came down as well, without me noticing.

And as I was blissfully devouring my breakfast like a starving (wo)man, dad came over to the table and started doing something. I wasn't paying attention. But what he said next got my attention, alright.

"What Indian song are you playing on the upstairs computer?"

Since I've already gotten used to my dad's flippant comments on the songs I play, I didn't pause; just smiled and continued eating.

Alah bisa, tegal biasa, they say.

After getting hit by my dad's wit many, many times, you're bound to build some sort of immunity against it.

Priceless, father mine.


Dan, segala yang ku ada,
Ku berikan semua,
Untuk dirimu saja,
Ku mahu dirimu bahagia 'tuk selamanya,
Biar sampai syurga,
Aku menunggu,
Cinta darimu,
Agar ku sempurna.

I wish.

Namun aku tetap aku,
Yang terbaik untuk diriku,
Hanya satu.

Aku lemah tanpa kamu,
Ku ingin mu dampingi ku,
Aku fahami aku bukan terbaik 'tuk dirimu,
Sampai syurga ku menunggu,
Sampai syurga ku cinta mu,
Hanya kamu.

Foolish, foolish man. You won't be able to procreate that way. How are you going to ensure the continuation of life on this earth? At the rate you're going, heaven's going to come real soon. Sooner than you expected. And your oh-so-everlasting love isn't going to amount to much, is it?

Oh, and yes. Who are you to say that you are going to be in heaven?

Marya, a cousin of mine, nailed that thing right on the head.

Marya: Lelaki tu bukannya tentu nak masuk syurga. Sepatutnya "Syurga-slash-Neraka." Baru betul.

Okay, yes, I was being sassy. We were being sassy.

And yes, that might have sounded insensitive, but I was just being sarcastic. You can't really live life being a cold cod fish. Come on, lighten up! Haha.

I suppose I understand the song.

No, actually, I just like the angelic chorus. Haha. Well, okay, yes, I understand that feeling.

But logic has never been gentle with feelings. Don't count on your head being in sync with your heart too much.

I don't think there's ever going to be a guy I'd slave away for. I'll make concessions in my life, yes. A compromise and all. But I am not going to sell my life away.Not completely, at least.

Come to think of it, it's scary. The degree of trust that you must have with that person you're about ot share your life with...

I don't think a person full of conspiracy theories is going to pass in that department with flying colours. Do you?



Me: When you'll never get it, you want it really bad. But when you're about to get it, suddenly you realise you don't really want it after all. Haha.

S.M.: Well said, girl!

Well said, indeed.

And when I build you a steeple
You say it's incomplete
'Cause you need the whole cathedral
To satisfy the need.


March 19, 2009

The suitcase down the path.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

I am tired. And cranky. Cranky, cranky, cranky. And wheezing again. Is it that recently dormant asthma?


I was going to post up a picture. Crap. Let me get it right now.

Well.... make that a whole bunch of pictures.

*5 hours later*

Pardon. I get sidetracked very easily. First it was a request to download a song (courtesy of my beloved cousin, soon-to-be-doctor). And then, it was .... errr.... performing a somewhat illegal act. Please don't make me describe it.

Anyways, here they are.

*Insert orgasmic overjoyed face here*

This is a momentous occasion. My first complete (somewhat) makeup set.

Yes, hardly something to go gaga over, but it's colossal to me, at least.

There were five of us: Me, Amanda, Atiqah, Akmar and her sister. Two places: TS and Pavilion. We thrashed the place, eh?

Watched City of Ember at Pavilion. Our hall was deserted. 10 people, tops. There were three guys sitting behind us. In a very indirect kind of way, we communicated between our groups. It's quirky, funny, and something along the borderlines of weird, but it was fun.

Ah, and GSC's chicken hotdog was absolutely de-lish. I wanted more than a bite. *Sigh*

Then, we moved from Pavilion to TS. Walked around, bought some presenrs, and then ate lunch (at 4.00) at the Kopitiam Station.

Considering it's now 3 a.m., I won't go into details. But Kopitiam Station's pretty darned good. Then, we continued our search. Stopped at the Japanese food section and bought some stuff. *drool* I want seaweed.

Lastly, we stopped at Elianto.

I love it. I'll say it again. El-lian-to. Gann!

Allow me my fancies. It's rare that I go overtly gaga.

Okay, yes, I did... errmm... use a BIT of it.


A major, major, major hug, kiss and thank you goes to my loverly friends. Although this fancy of mine nearly bankrupted you guys (I went pokai too, alright?), you indulged me, so I love all of you so much.

Big Hugs and Kisses!

Oh, and Tiqah? I promise I'll continue writing Mirricae. Haha.


You know, there are times when you need a boost, and the people whom you didn't really expect to give you that boost suddenly does?

It happened to me. Again.

Thank you, kind one. Your non-chalantly phrased words has sparked a flame within my soul.

It'll last long, promise.

No, happily never after,
That just ain't for me.


March 18, 2009

Hearts that Break

As dictated by Faranza Syns

And kisses that never cease!

Thank you, my lovelies, for those wonderful birthday posts and birthday wishes. The most quirky one would have to be from Ju (who actually mentioned that his wishes came all the way from the top of a mountain. Literally.) But I love each and every single one of you for those wishes. No more, no less. Haha (the safest way to say "I love you" to numerous affairs, mind).

I can't help but sigh contentedly at the thought of you guys. You guys are wonderful. I wonder how I'll deal when we finally leave school and venture beyond our own sacred circle? To tell the truth, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine. Haha. But it doesn't make me worry any less.

I need to get out more.

Oh, and I just got bitten by a stray kitten. Twice. Call me paranoid, but if I die of rabies...

Never mind that.

I just got a new follower, too. *wiggle eyebrows*. And it didn't involve any demeaning begging or grovelling. I'm on seventh heaven, people.


Good news! I've finally uncovered the piano lessons book!

That means I can now resume (or re-learn) my piano lessons. Yay!

*insert picture of me beaming, with light shining from my face, glowing radiantly.*


I'm going to learn how to play the piano-- even if it's the last thing I do.

Now, back to CDEFG's.


Mei Yin: You look younger with your fringe and long hair. I wish I could have wavy hair like yours.

Waaargh, you words were like a balm to my tortured soul, Mei. Thank you.

You are my baby love, my baby love,
You're my every, everything that I could ever dream of.
-Nicole Scherzinger, Baby Love.

Hah, I wish. Ever the hopeful me is starting to get really disheartened.

Let's leave matters of the heart till later, then. Because frankly, I'm trying to not give a damn.

I don't think I want this anymore.


March 17, 2009

Looking for diamond rings.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Me: nearly gave me an orgasm.

Youko: So that means if you every night, then you have sex every night?

How priceless you are, Youko, dear.

And yes, I am still on my craze. You might see sudden changes of headers, but what the hey. Ignore them if you don't like them.

Here's what I'd love to say to you.

All of the boys and all of the girls are begging to belanja me ice-cream. nyekkS


March 16, 2009

But then I saw your eyes.

As dictated by Faranza Syns



Tell me once you've decided.

For me? I, for some reason, hate to go mainstream. Especially if I wasn't the first one of the first to form the mainstream.

Let's take the used- to- be- so- popular- on- every- darned- blog- I- went-to Steph Meyer. I can't stand to read her books once I found out that everyone was reading them.

And how about The Korean Boys Over Flower? Everyone kept on harping about it, I can't even go to search engines to look them up without having those madly squealing, die-hard fan voices inside my head. It's like a mantra that gets louder, building up to a crescendo. And so, because of the sudden contempt (misguided though it was) that I developed, I decided to not watch the show after all.

Music. Music music music. I don't listen to the radio just for spite. I've no blooming idea who I am trying to spite. But I don't listen to the radio. Unless my dad drives us to school. Then, he'll turn on the radio, and then I'll listen. But to look for new songs? I don't go to radios. I just search the internet for music listings. Yes, I know that's mainstream too. But at least, Malaysia's mainstream isn't as fast as American mainstream. In other words, No 1 in America will be No 1 in Malaysia within a few months. A few months, I say. Ha. So I'll be one of those unique people who've memorised new songs even before anyone else had heard the song on the radio.

Yes, kiasu. With a capital K. You know what? Make it capital all the way. KIASU.

Basically, my thinking of not wanting to be mainstream is due to kiasuness. I just don't want to be of the majority in taste. When I hear that everyone likes "A", I'd instantly develop a sense of scepticism towards "A". A hot guy? If everyone falls for him, I'll just say he's ugly. Okay, bad judgement skills. But when I say he is ugly, that usually means I reserve judgement for later. "Ugly" usually interprets as "I'm sure there's something better underneath. If everyone's seen the outside, I want the insides to impress me, not the outside anymore."

In simple English: It gets harder to impress me once you're popular (and I wasn't the one who made you popular).

Sometimes, things become mainstream just because it was the "in" thing then. And since everyone was listening to it, and some "cool" people dubbed it as "happening", everyone else follows suit.

Not everything mainstream is good. In my opinion, that is. I am not entirely, one hundred and nine percent against mainstream. I am for it, at times (herd mentality and all, you know). But there are times that I prefer to not be too mainstream. Like fawn over Steph Meyer's book just because my other friends are going seriously gaga over her [book(s)].

Bottom line: I reserve judgement for later. If you're popular, the standards I'll be setting is high. It's harder to impress a sceptic than a schoolgirl full of naivete.

And I can't stand it when Tarrant says: "Heh. All mainstream."

Darn. Like you know who Marit Larsen is. Or Nik Kershaw for that matter. And let's not mention Miyano Mamoru. Pffft.


I am here to issue a challenge to everyone.

A hidden image within an image.

Who's smart?

You'll know what I mean.

Give me the hidden words and I will love you forever.

Who wants to try to take me on?
No, there was no literal meaning.

It's easy to solve. If you've watched Numb3rs.


Oh, look! It's 17th March. Might as well get it all over and done with.

Happy Birthday Caroline Corr, my number one idol.

Happy Birthday Syarifah Noor.

Happy Birthday Abi.

Happy Birthday all you suckers who were (are) born on 17th March. We're on the same boat, you know.

Happy Birthday to me.
How I wish you'd wish me.

Because never-ending dreams always have their loopholes.


March 15, 2009

As dictated by Faranza Syns

I am currently sick.

Sick being wheezing horribly, having an itchy throat, an even itchier eye, runny nose and fever on the way.

All this because I went to battle against the evil forces of the dust bunnies-- and won.

I suppose there's always hell to pay. Even for victory.

We have that a trip to Taylor's College tomorrow. I'm hoping I don't get too sick for it.

Ergo, I will now succumb to the powerful effect of the meds I took, and crawl listlessly towards my clean and tidy (for now) bed.

Wish me luck.

Oh, and Harlan Coben, Lucy Gordon and Kathy Williams are awesome. So is Ryan Higa. And Sean. *yawn*

Goodnight, and sweet dreams.

Because sometimes memories get distorted,
And the colours become too bright,
Or too dull,
Or they just fade away.

Because I gave up on you.


Button up.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

I have gone crazy.

Thank you,, for assisting me in my endeavour. Your help, much thanks.

Click on icon to go to Youko's site.

Discovered the many, many plugins that could be downloaded from the website.

One of which was the 'Button' plugin.

Oh oh, I had an orgasm epiphany. It was like manna from heaven.


You don't wanna know where this leads.

Sayonara for the night.

Wishes aren't wishes if they do come true.


March 13, 2009

At the heat of the moment.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

AddMaths class:

Pn Jasbir: For your class, I expect no less than A1s for SPM.
Me: o_O
Pn Jasbir: So if you can't achieve that, you need to push yourself.

At this point, I got pretty annoyed. Lips covered by my linked hands, with my elbows on the table, I said drolly, "If you can't push, then thrust."

Thank god she didn't hear that though.

Pn Jasbir: You must RISE to the occasion.

OMG, is she a walking the peripheries of sex jokes?

Me: I really have to thrust.
Amanda: You must RISE to the occasion.
Me: If you fail to RISE *ahem* people will think of you as a weak, impotent loser.


It was raining. Me, Aly, and Mei Yin decided to round the Complex grounds since we saw Mel and Ju doing so before.

Dharr tagged along.

It went on well enough. Until the rain turned heavy.

And we were stranded at the Surau, unable to brave the elements for fear of our prefect shirts being stained.

So there we were, sitting on the concrete pathway that was sheltered.

Aly: I wish we had a camera to take a picture of our pathetic faces.
Me: We're stranded in the rain. Ha.
Dharrenesha: In our own school, no less.

Aly: I wish we had a television here. And chocolates. And then I won't mind being stuck here. I won't mind staying until school finishes. I'd even stayback.

Aly. You are priceless.

And seriously, when Aly laughs, you'll feel the compulsion to laugh too. And when you laugh, she won't be able to stop. And she'll continue laughing. And so will you.

The bottomline is, the four of us became the attention of the netballers who were passing by.

And their faces pretty much said we were cuckoo in the head.

Fun times, fun times.

Oh, and Hariz, baby, I'm glad you're still alive. It makes so much difference. ;p


It's kind of weird. And scary. When the person you never thought would get hooked up suddenly does. And you can't help the sinking, gut-sick feeling that you'll be the last one out.

Ku tahu ku bukan terbaik buat dirimu,
Tatkala di syurga, ku tetap kan menunggu.


March 12, 2009

I Can't.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

No, I don't hate you.

It's just me, SPM and PMS.

A killer combination, if there ever was.

Truth, truth, just a myriad of twisted lies.


March 11, 2009

Dampening spirits.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

It's over. Or so it seems now.
No matter what you say, I'm still hurt.
Thank God.
And I am still pissed.
But there's more to come, so dammit, gotta get ready.
And laughing was like choking.
*Sigh*, will it ever end?
Ah, well. I'll move on.

You've always sucked at making me feel better, you know?



As dictated by Faranza Syns

How would you feel,
Had she kept it from you,
Silence, just another tool,
Feelings hidden beneath veneers of cool,
Making you a mere, laughable fool.

How would you feel,
Had you been left behind,
Upon a new road you'll never find,
Left to flail,
With credulity and all it entails,
Darkness, in all it's quiet, prevailed.

How would you feel,
Had it been kept from you,
The only one, nary a clue,
Wondering upon the questions in the air,
Acting like you could not care,

How would you feel,
Had she still kept it from you,
Like a dark secret held in truth,
In confidence, in youth,
From you, and you alone,
When you, you are alone.

Lest you say you know how I feel,
Be it time you knew,
Unless you feel what I feel,
With honesty most real,
You have not yet tested even the foot of the hill,

-Faranza Syns

p.s: I wonder if you know. I wonder if you know your silence really did hurt me.


March 10, 2009

For You

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Ruzanna Aniza, take a closer look.

Yes, yes, yes, you can stop following a blog.

Say the word, and I will desist my stalker-ish behaviour (pfffffffft) on Hariss Daniel.


Awww, and cheer up, hun. I understand how it feels like to get your stuff rejected. I get that a lot from the Ed Board. But don't worry. Things will turn out fine.

You are an artist. Remember that. ;)

We can sit down and laugh,
But we don't know the half of it in your defense.


March 9, 2009

Don't look into my eyes. You might not like what you see.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

If you look carefully, the picture could be rather disturbing.

A tribute to Tarrant's dark side. Dang you, la. Look what you did to my innocence.

I like her get-up.

Babi, no one in real life can pull off that look.

Makeup. Makeup. Makeup.
I love her eyes. Well, I chose it, so of course I love it. Pfft.

Pow!! Makeup by Pop. Brilliant, isn't it?

Raver Shinagami eyes by City Sky.

MORF Orika GlitterPink Hair by MiniMorfy.

$Rainbow L.O.V.E top by Pop. Again.

Nameless FashOn bottoms by Pop. Yes, her again.

Fruit Happy Gloves by Gaia.

Hip Hop Hunneez poses by Eight08 (pronounced eight-oh-eight xD)Racer.

My most colourful attempt by far. And the one that I use the "glow" option the most. I live for glowing prospects. Pfffft.


Those who agree that the death of a dream should be mourned, hands up!

Those who don't agree, you can jump off a building, and see if I'll mourn you.

Okay, I was just kidding.

Dreams that die of sudden death should be mourned. But there's a time when you have to move on, no?

Honey, please, please, please, move on. There are many dreams in your heart, in your mind, in your soul that you can still bring to life. Don't just stop in the middle of everything.

You can do it. I know.


Blah blah blah... I have no idea what to say. I'm morphing my writing style to that of Aja's.

Say goodbye to Faranza. She's going on hybernation, along with her mind, wits and colourful repartees.

She's contemplating life. And mourning a dream.

Hybernation. Definitely.

It's settled. He'll leave you alone now.
And so will I.


March 8, 2009

Flatron. You. Are. Awk.ward.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Those silly days.

Picasa, oh Picasa. What would I overlook without you?


Yesterday was Amira Zu's birthday.

Amira Zu is currently 2 years old, and gender confused.

A scene between her mom (my aunt) and her.

Amira's Mom: Grandpa is a...?
Amira: Man!
Amira's Mom: Grandma is a...?
Amira: Woman!
Amira's Mom: Mama is a...?
Amira's Mom: *repeats* Mama is a...?
Amira : *shrugs a one-shouldered shrug in the cute way only toddlers can*
Amira's mom: Papa...?
Amira: ....
Amira's Mom: Mak Ngah? Mak Long?
Amira: . . . . . . . .

Yes, I suppose only Grandma and Grandpa seem most like their genders. Good god, have we been confusing the little one? Or are we, truthfully, sexless?

Please, no! x)


Amidst all the ruckus, it's surprising how well I've bonded with my little, teeny-tiny, not-even-as-tall- as- my- waist cousins.

To the extent that one of them enjoys groping tickling my arse.

I don't know when arses can become ticklish. Sensitive, yes. But ticklish?

It's either they really are innocent, or they have just innocently violated me.

The first batch of cousins had already gone through their 'oh-smack-Kak Ngah's- butt!' phase. Now, this younger batch is developing worse idiosyncrasies. God help me. And please don't make me mention that one -- scratch that. TWO -- sacred places that they have innocently groped.

That is it. I have been well and truly violated.

Ah, soon-to-be pervs masquerading as children. The girls aren't even better off-- they take joy in this suddenly so exciting pass-time -- smacking Farhana everywhere.

I think I liked it better when they left me alone. Why oh why did I have to respond to them?


Birthday girl is 2 years old. Birthday girl is still a tot. Birthday girl is inept at blowing candles.

Birthday girl drooled before blowing candles.

Birthday girl blew candles.

Needless to say, we all have a little bit of Birthday Girl's spittle in our system right now.

But let's forgive her since she's so darned cute.


Me: Will a computer game always take precedence over a girl?
Hariz: Yes.
Me: Always?
Hariz: Always.

And he already has a girlfriend. Tsk tsk!


#1: He looks ugly.
#2: He's buff, la. I've seen him in real life, remember?

I only said he's ugly because I want to believe he is.

Warrrgh, time to get over him!


*Name protected for discretion (?)

*#3's Display Message: is in a male kimono. And likes it.

Me: A male kimono. Hmm.

#3: Yes. A Male Kimono.

Me: Hmm
Me: ... does the kimono have a penis?

Warrrgh, I couldn't help myself.

After a while,

#3: Where were we?

Me: I believe we were discussing the male kimono and its penis. Or lack thereof.

#3: Well, the wearer certainly has one.



Give me a clue. Give me a bloody darned sign.

Because I can't read minds.

Please, please, please tell me...

What do you want for your birthday, laaaaaaaa?

I really thought you'd understand.


I Like Frappy. I love StormD.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Because the outcome of the two of them just stuns me.


March 7, 2009

A Call to Arms. Not.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Pay attention.


Keep. Your. Eyes. On. The. Screen.



Courtesy of Ruz.

When I saw you,
Heck, I thought you understood.


March 6, 2009


As dictated by Faranza Syns

Click to zoom!

I am committing a very sisterly act here. Posting up my brother's pic.

Courtesy of yours truly. For Afzan.

Message: quit falling for him, la. A guy who sleeps like that...

Eeeesh, my brother has longer eyelashes than me. Eeeeesh. Wasted on him, I swear.

My family is a family of lookers. I'm the only one who missed out on the beauty genes. *Sigh*

I. Want. You.


I. Like. You. You. Obtuse. Man.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

I need someone to crush over.

And Ian Teng is not going to cut it, Shane.

I lose weight better when I'm agonizing over someone. So yes, any volunteers?

Don't be shy. I promise I'll crush over you as silently as possible. I won't intrude on your life unless you want me to.

And no, Afzan, you need not apply. You're my affair, so it's moot point. And Yin, you're my wife, so you can't apply too.

The last thing I need is a love triangle.


I make it a rule not to despise someone unless they hit me first.

Batten down the hatches.

Habibah is so gonna get screwed.

What did she do, you ask?

She screwed up my Oral Assessment marks.

Last year, I read out my debate script in front of her. And when I took a peek at the marks, I saw the most fascinating figure:

Total: 30

I was rather stupefied at the moment, but not stupid, so I just shut up and accepted the final marks. Which was 30/30. Flawless. And so, I signed my name on the dotted line, per se.

But when I got back my marks a few weeks ago, I was, without a doubt, angered enough to hunt her down and commit homicide.

Total: 23

She'd corrected the bloody thing using her liquid paper correction pen.

I was outraged, but I knew I couldn't do anything. Since the woman's no longer in SBU, I can't really sue her through the school now, can I? I mean, I signed the paper based on the figures I saw then. And when I got it back, the marks were changed!

School, I demand you ruin her rep right now. Tell whichever hell-hole she's in now that she's not worth the pain in the arse.

Screw you, Habibah. Now I can't get an A for my oral assessment.

I'm a great speaker, damn you.

I did my oral just fine. In fact, I just did this year's oral test. And do you know what Pn Sheela's reaction was, you swine?

"... And Farhana, you did very well. Good pronunciation, good expressions. But how did you get... a 23 last oral assessment?"

Even she was shocked, you pug.

She was going to give me 28 or 29. Hah! You lousy judge of character!

Okay, fine. You were going through a really rough patch. And yes, I might never understand the pain and disillusionment of divorce, but you needn't take it out on me.

When the whole class--pardon, the whole SCHOOL-- was making fun of you, I didn't say shit against you. I didn't even sneer at you. Granted, I still didn't do a single of your homework, but I rarely ever complete any assigned homework, so no, I wasn't singling you out.

And I never, never, never sullied your name in my blog. Because you didn't measure up to anything to ever be mentioned.

But now you've done it. Congratulations. I now dislike you.

You're lucky you still have eyes to cry with, woman.

It's the fact that you changed the marks--and I won't get an A unless I redo the test--that makes me wanna screw you back, front, up, down, left, right and center. Screw you real good so that you'd get over your bloody divorce and stop ruining students' lives.

Hey, what exactly did you teach us last year?

A scenario in class:

"Ok, students, copy this... *drone drone drone*..."

Then, you sat down and emo-ed the whole day.

And instead of writing "seen" at the end of our essay, you wrote "see." What? See what? You want to see the whole class?

Let's all not forget the time when she gave us the format for a formal letter essay. Then, gave us an informal letter essay question. "Eh, eh, why all of you panic?" she asked, in her not-so-perfect (the fact that she's an english teacher and speaks beyond bad "chinglish" makes me want to screw her over more than once) english when we looked at her in bewilderment. She turned and realised that she gave the wrong question. Then, to cover it up, she said "Eh, when I give you formal letter format, it doesn't mean I'll give you an informal letter question."

Oh... I'm sorry, I didn't know that when you say pigs can't fly, you actually meant they can fly. Sorry. I suppose we just assumed you really MEANT that pigs can't fly. Gosh, I should brush up on my mind-reading skills! Whatever were we thinking? Next time (if ever) you give us a format for something, we'll just assume you're giving it to us for pointless fun.

Ah yes, and what the effing hell did you do during our assessment? You chatted on the phone in front of us while we were struggling to answer our exam papers.

Need I give anymore evidence to condemn you?

Maybe I'll forgive you. But if I don't get an A for my oral assessment, you'd have one heck of an explaining to do when you die and meet your maker. I wash my hands clean of you.

I wish you the best in life. Yes, this might sound insincere now, but I don't want you raining on my parade, daily. So, I really hope you'll sort your life out, and realise what you've done.

Remorse. I want you to feel remorse. But that's wishing for too much, since you barely remember what you've done.

So, goodbye, Habibah. I don't need you to be the dark cloud in the sky.

I have better things to do than wonder if it's going to rain.

I like Puan Sheela ten times better, anyways. Too bad, you missed out.


Me: Why do we open the refrigerator door, close it, and then come back within a few minutes just to take a look into it the 'fridge again?

Dharr: Yeah, I wonder the same thing!

Me: It's as if we're expecting something to appear in the 'fridge after we've closed it.

Same goes for snack cabinets. Especially when they're empty.

Oh, the agony.


Yee Ming, you owe me Haagen-Dazs. Or lunch.

Zi Kang, you owe me a candle-light dinner.

Farhana, you owe yourself some weight-loss.

Egad! You're cruel.

I want you.
I really, really want you.
Like, really, really...
You're really slow at this, aren't you?


March 5, 2009


As dictated by Faranza Syns

I promised I wouldn't talk to anyone today.

That promise was made yesterday.

And I broke it just a few hours after the dawn of the new day.

Good God, I'll never learn, will I?


I made peace with Laine: no more butt-smacking.

She violated the cease-fire, though.

See? Who smacked whose butt first, Laine?

Now I'm gonna be smacking two bottoms each day.

Nurul: Aihh, you don't know Erin, meh? She lifted people's skirt when we were in form 1.

My reaction: OH MAH GAD. ERIN'S HUMAN.


"At the night of my accident, I fell in love with a green-eyed angel..."

Didn't you know that sentences like these in romance novels makes me hate my genes? Would you ever dream of making sentences like "I fell in love with the black-eyed angel"?


The rule of comic books and cartoons have long dictated that angels have light, beautiful eyes. Preferrably blue, but anything of the same family would do.

I have obsidian eyes. I can't be an angel.

But screw genetics. At least my cheeks are soft. Soft as a baby's bottom ( see the pun?).

From now on, my heroines will have obsidian, or close to obsidian eyes. Don't worry, dear readers. I'll make the stories as romantic as possible.


These lips are made for kissing.
And it's good genetics, damn you.


March 4, 2009

Before it faded.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Right. Before I forget, I want to post this up.

In case I need a referral one day:

Erin Chuah smacked my butt.

Yes, the Erin. Editor Erin. Bit-Chuah (snort).

I will get vengeance one day, woman. Editor or not, your arse is mine.

Laine, you're lucky we made peace, or your butt would be mine, too.

Can't stay long. Have to leave.

Remind me to smack Erin's arse tomorrow.

You can keep on watching me.