Ultimatum
As dictated by Faranza Syns
As long as Timothy Quek does not update his blog, I won't, too.
April 29, 2009
April 28, 2009
Because He Expects It
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I am going to say this with enough glee-and-jeer in my tone to turn any male within a thousand-mile radius off, as opposed to turning them on.
I beat you, Teh Yee Ming.
(although only in Chemistry)
Well, since you wanted it so much... Haha.
The final score was 56. I still beat Yee Ming. Hah. And without even studying beforehand. I win, Yee Ming.
And thanks so much for your over-the-top imitation of me whilst in the throes of longing. I know you missed me, Yee Ming. And thank you for seeing me as a cheerful, irrepressible person. I am now convinced that I have not deteriorated towards Neanderthal behaviourisme entirely.
Someone: But, I studied *whines*
Yee Ming: I studied, too! And I got a 50.
Me: *perks up* I didn't study, I didn't study!
Yee Ming: Yeah? How much did you get?
Me: 52.
Yee Ming: I can almost see her posting this up in her blog. "I beat Yee Ming".
Well, since you wanted it so much... Haha.
The final score was 56. I still beat Yee Ming. Hah. And without even studying beforehand. I win, Yee Ming.
And thanks so much for your over-the-top imitation of me whilst in the throes of longing. I know you missed me, Yee Ming. And thank you for seeing me as a cheerful, irrepressible person. I am now convinced that I have not deteriorated towards Neanderthal behaviourisme entirely.
Headaches make me testy.
I'm trying to act grown-up when I'm not. It's sad, really.
To the person who has been the best in my life.
Despite the times I wanted to shout at you for hurting my feelings,
Despite the times I felt bitter and selfish,
Despite the times I thought you didn't love me,
I'll always love you.
Because had you not been around, and not been my pillar of strength, I'd never have gotten this far.
I'd not have learned from my mistakes. I'd not have known what to do with my life. I'd not have measured up to anything.
To tell the truth, right after I cry after you've chastised me,
Right after I've learned from my follies,
Right after that moment of bitterness,
I feel the deepest sense of belonging.
Knowing you'll be there,
Always there to cushion my fall,
Eventhough I'm the most ungrateful brat alive,
Eventhough I'm less than appreciative.
I can't help but say the two most inadequate words,
Thank you, Dad.
And despite all that's happened, I love you.
Always will.
Because you're my dad.
Always.
Happy Birthday.
My dad's brilliant. Can't argue with that.
How come no songs about dads are popular?
Anyways, gotta go. We're going to celebrate his birthday.
Oh, keep this mushy post hush-hush, eh?
;)
Because he's always been my hero.
And I won't have it any other way.
I'm trying to act grown-up when I'm not. It's sad, really.
_________________________________
To the person who has been the best in my life.
Despite the times I wanted to shout at you for hurting my feelings,
Despite the times I felt bitter and selfish,
Despite the times I thought you didn't love me,
I'll always love you.
Because had you not been around, and not been my pillar of strength, I'd never have gotten this far.
I'd not have learned from my mistakes. I'd not have known what to do with my life. I'd not have measured up to anything.
To tell the truth, right after I cry after you've chastised me,
Right after I've learned from my follies,
Right after that moment of bitterness,
I feel the deepest sense of belonging.
Knowing you'll be there,
Always there to cushion my fall,
Eventhough I'm the most ungrateful brat alive,
Eventhough I'm less than appreciative.
I can't help but say the two most inadequate words,
Thank you, Dad.
And despite all that's happened, I love you.
Always will.
Because you're my dad.
Always.
Happy Birthday.
Me: Happy Birthday, ayah! *hugs*
Ayah: Thank you. *grins*
Me: So... *gives the serious, you've-turned-seventeen tone*.. You're growing older, dad.
Ayah: ... Yes.
Me: Not so young anymore, eh, dad?
Ayah: ... So this means you'll help me out more around the house?
My dad's brilliant. Can't argue with that.
How come no songs about dads are popular?
Anyways, gotta go. We're going to celebrate his birthday.
Oh, keep this mushy post hush-hush, eh?
;)
Because he's always been my hero.
And I won't have it any other way.
April 26, 2009
Long Time.
As dictated by Faranza Syns
It's been ages since I did any avatar-shop.
Bamm! We're goin' blonde, babeh!
She's so scrumptious, even I feel like going blonde.
Didn't do much on this one, except a wee bit of editing.
Take a look at the neck of the second picture.
Looks weird, no?
Edit, edit! And voila!
I just found out, by pure chance, really, that PNG can be read by Paint.net and Photoshop. Yayh! I'm in a state of induced happiness. In fact, I nearly feel orgasmic.
Oh. And she looks like Barbie. Eeh.
Oh well. I'll be doing more photoshop later. With these pictures. Till then...
Oh. And she looks like Barbie. Eeh.
Oh well. I'll be doing more photoshop later. With these pictures. Till then...
...I wonder if you ever think of me.
April 24, 2009
She has it, I want it.
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Behind this innocent face, you'll find someone who is dastardly dirty-minded.
But despite all that, I am still considered lukewarm. -ish. Hmm..
So there I was, at my Rounding duty, standing at the staircase with Mel, both of us having the most severe case of the doldrums. Then, Julian came down the stairs, carrying a bag.
And so they went through the normal round of good-humoured bickering.
Then, Ju walked away, claiming ardently still that he and his wife can never be separated. Me and Mel stood against the metal railing and stared after him.
A second later:
Hahaha. We had quite a laugh. Sometimes, it's hard to pick away at my words. It just slides out, without me realising. And when I do realise, I ease into it, looking deadpan. Because since it's already out, no use acting as if nothing happened, eh?
I read Ruz's blog. That is so not fair, Ruz. I haven't even compiled my list. Come to think of it, it's rather embarrassing for me to actually list down prerequisites like that.
But heck, might as well plan out the checklist now, huh?
Man of My Dreams.
Is too much of a paragon to exist.
So, I suppose I'll lower the standards. Because after all, I want a man made of flesh and blood. And a raw sexual appeal.
This is clearly the result of reading one too many *cough*educational*cough* books.
Alrighty-o. He must:
Wait... wait just one minute. I have actually done this before. As an answer to a tag. Eeek. Why am I doing all this? You know what? Scratch all this: I am never getting married, so what's the point?
Once I sit down and really think about it, I have to really wonder what's the point of having a significant other. Sure, the mushy stuff is a plus, but... overall... don't you feel ... limited? No more flirting with anyone besides him? No more... affairs? Oh the horror!
But if I said this to Kye Li, she'd go: "No la."
Of course, she has Jun Ying. Eeh. I'm jealous, but I don't particularly want a significant other. It's the if-she-has-it-I-want-it syndrome.
And I used to think my brother is lousy because he had said syndrome.
Karma, you bitch.
Don't clip my wings;
How am I supposed to leave you?
But despite all that, I am still considered lukewarm. -ish. Hmm..
So there I was, at my Rounding duty, standing at the staircase with Mel, both of us having the most severe case of the doldrums. Then, Julian came down the stairs, carrying a bag.
Me: Hey you!
Ju: Hey.
Me: And where're you headed with that bag?
Ju: *grins* this is my laptop. My WIFE.
Me: Haha.
Ju: Me and my wife cannot be separated.
Melissa: Eleh, if I pull that bag away from you, you'll already be separated.
Me: Haha.
Ju: We STILL can't be separated.
And so they went through the normal round of good-humoured bickering.
Then, Ju walked away, claiming ardently still that he and his wife can never be separated. Me and Mel stood against the metal railing and stared after him.
Me: I wonder how they have sex.
Mel: ...
Me: Nevermind.
A second later:
Me: Ewwww, that is so disgusting! xD
Mel: Tau tak pe!
Hahaha. We had quite a laugh. Sometimes, it's hard to pick away at my words. It just slides out, without me realising. And when I do realise, I ease into it, looking deadpan. Because since it's already out, no use acting as if nothing happened, eh?
I read Ruz's blog. That is so not fair, Ruz. I haven't even compiled my list. Come to think of it, it's rather embarrassing for me to actually list down prerequisites like that.
But heck, might as well plan out the checklist now, huh?
Man of My Dreams.
Is too much of a paragon to exist.
So, I suppose I'll lower the standards. Because after all, I want a man made of flesh and blood. And a raw sexual appeal.
This is clearly the result of reading one too many *cough*educational*cough* books.
Alrighty-o. He must:
- be taller than me. A must. A few centimetres would still be acceptable. Come to think of it, he must be tall enough so that when he places his arms over my shoulder, I can actually feel comfortable instead of feeling pressured to lean sideways to accommodate.
- be the talker between us two. It takes time for me to open up, and heck, if he doesn't speak, I'll start spouting the random things I am oh-so-famous for.
- be thick-skinned. Because sometimes the things I say are just so bloody embarrassing. Imagine if I said something outrageous in public. It's bad enough that I'd be wishing for the ground to swallow me up, but if he really started urging the ground to swallow me up, I'd pack him a whopper he'll never forget. And my sarcasm can sometimes bite bone-deep, so if he's thin-skinned, as opposed to thick-skinned, he'd cry foul within a few days and pack his bags and leave. Sadly.
- like to pat my butt. Hahahahahahahahahahahhahahaha. Oh my god, that just came out of nowhere.
- have better English than me. Because if he doesn't, I'd start driving him crazy with correcting his English every few seconds. And heck, if he had better English than me, I'd spend most of time involved in the somewhat childish game of one-upmanship. Of course, it might not be so good when I start consulting the dictionary every time he says a new word, or phrase, but he'll keep me learning, and I'll love him for that.
- be able to turn a deaf ear on my singing. Because occasionally, I'd get off-pitch, sing tonelessly, or sound horrendously dreadful. I'd even sing a particular verse over and over til he'd get sick of it. So yeah, an internal ear plug would be a prerequisite for my man.
- be understanding. And not afraid to touch *cough*. What I meant was that he's not afraid to show affection, la. What la you people.
- enjoy it when I massage him. If he doesn't, I'd smack his head off his oh-so-deliciously-broad shoulders. Nah, I'd enjoy massaging him. If I do it wrong, he must be able to gently (or humorously) tell me how he prefers it.
- at least offer to do the laundry. Eventhough he doesn't actually mean it.
- at least defeat my father in cooking.
Wait... wait just one minute. I have actually done this before. As an answer to a tag. Eeek. Why am I doing all this? You know what? Scratch all this: I am never getting married, so what's the point?
Once I sit down and really think about it, I have to really wonder what's the point of having a significant other. Sure, the mushy stuff is a plus, but... overall... don't you feel ... limited? No more flirting with anyone besides him? No more... affairs? Oh the horror!
But if I said this to Kye Li, she'd go: "No la."
Of course, she has Jun Ying. Eeh. I'm jealous, but I don't particularly want a significant other. It's the if-she-has-it-I-want-it syndrome.
And I used to think my brother is lousy because he had said syndrome.
Karma, you bitch.
Don't clip my wings;
How am I supposed to leave you?
April 23, 2009
No Happy Ending.
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Due to popular demand from countless fans (Ruz only, actually) I've decided that really, letting something so damn important to me die just like that is silly, stupid, and a sure sign of a budding ignoramus.
In simple english: Heck, I love my blog, and what's the point of closing it down?
Diagnostics is just around the corner. Two weeks, tops. And heck yeah, it's important. The level of its importance ranks up there right under Trials exams which is consequently right below SPM.
Now we're getting serious. Intervention? Pfft. That's rat patootie compared to this. This is monumental. This decides whether my life would end shortly. This will be the bump on the road. This will determine how I leap, and how I fall. This will be the wind that brings me up high, or the unforgiving storm that renders me immobile as I watch it destroy the remnants of my frivolous youth.
Okay, I have had enough of dramatics for one day, so let's focus on the logical stuff, eh?
Whatever logical stuff my brain can process right now without going into cramps and spasms.
Let's take a look at my schedule throughout Intervention, shall we? Let's start with the weekends right before it.
Saturday
Materials read: A quarter of Chapter 3 from Sejarah.
Others: Did anything but study. Re-read The Undomestic Goddess, read the "Love Me Through the Night Anthology", read Lori Foster's "Indulge Me", and searched the net frantically for "Drive Me Wild" by Lori Foster. Again.
Sunday
Materials read: Erin McCarthy's stories.
Others: No damn studying.
Monday
Materials read: Maths. I didn't bother to read it throughout the weekend because I thought that the book was (conveniently) still inside my desolate old locker. Then, I looked under my bed and the horror of a textbook was sitting there, innocent as you please. So, there I was, at 5.50 in the morning, frantically reading through Number Bases and whatever that second chapter was.
Others: At night, I know, I should've learned my lesson. But noooo. I had to sit at the dining table that was oh-so-conveniently-placed near the big, tempting TV, and heck. I'm not human if I could resist that kind of temptation. Not a strong one, at least. And so, I sat there, enraptured, watching Black Hawk Down, falling irrevocably in love with Josh Hartnett. Oh, oh, oh. Of course, I fell all over for him only after he tried so hard to save all his rangers. I do have my standards, you know. A pretty face ain't gon' make me melt that easily. But that fact remains a fact: I did not study that night. Went to sleep at 11.50. Blissful, restful, sleep.
Tuesday
Material: Chemistry Success Book. Woke up at 5.50 (again, eventhough I vowed to wake up at 5.00) and read through chapter 7. It's sad really. This is what we call incorrigibly idiotic. But I was happy, so bear with me. Struggled through AddMaths, and smiled through Agama (although I only read two chapters from the text book.) I have a niggling suspicion that I'll soon be leaking waterworks when I get my Agama marks.
Others: Stayed in bed, from 8 p.m. to 5.a.m. Read ebooks on my phone while lounging on the bed. Did not even bother to sneak a peek at the Physics book, nor the Sejarah book. Lori Foster and Erin McCarthy were more interesting anyway.
Wednesday
Materials: Sejarah. I did not even study Physics. I have false bravado in me and my bizarro mind seemed to think that pseudo courage would get me anywhere. Ah, the illusions we entertain.
Others: Read Erin McCarthy. "Houston, We Have a Problem." Not as delicious as her previous anthology, but mature (as in the writing style. And the content. Sheesh) and well presented. Loved every inch of it. Did not bother with Bio.
Today
Materials: For the first time in three consecutive days, I did not wake up at 5.50 to read Bio. No, I left that for 2 hours before the exam. And heck, if that was not enough, I even sat outside with Euge, Amanda, and Nurul. Apparently, I have the darnedest effect on Nurul. Whenever I am in the vicinity, she starts yakking and starts cracking dirty jokes. Not that I don't contribute too, but heck, I never knew I could make Nurul speak a 1000 words a minute.
And apparently, Euge was talking about me making a spectacle of myself over Joshua. Eesh. Enough already. It's bad that I think the guy's partially hot, when he so definitely is not.
And that is the darned truth, I tell you.
But anyways, I've made a discovery too:
And there I was, sitting between the two of them, blinking in bewilderment.
I can't even be sure I'd get a brand-new spanking laptop after SPM (instead of getting my brother's lousy, albeit red-hot-cute, one). Much less a car. It's something that would get the "Haha, quit pulling my leg" reaction from my parents.
What I really wanted to say was: "Damn, so I'm NOT an anak manja for asking for a spanking new laptop (that, might I add, I have never owned)?"
Now that SPM is getting closer, I can't help this feeling of dread. Not dreading the exam. Dreading what'll come after.
I've known you since forever.
Been with you half my years.
I don't think I'll know any other way to live, than with you.
So how exactly am I supposed to leave school, never to see you again, except on rare occasions?
Heck, I suppose we'll be fine. But it doesn't mean I'm not having an onset of trepidation. What if I just fall flat on the first time I have to make an impression? What if I suck to high heaven?
But then again: What's the point of it all, if you're not terrified to fail?
So when the time comes, I'll remember what I always tell myself (amidst the screeching of panic and non-stop head banging going on inwardly) and take a deep breath, and just kill it.
Because heck, I'll have long enough to make other impressions, huh?
Oh agony.
Haha.
Wishes, wishes.
Let's leave those to dreams. Because let's face it: I'll never find my guy with the hip-shot stance, sex-swagger and leather jacket.
I'll really miss him in my dreams, though.
You, primitive.
Me, tentative.
We're dimensions apart.
In simple english: Heck, I love my blog, and what's the point of closing it down?
Diagnostics is just around the corner. Two weeks, tops. And heck yeah, it's important. The level of its importance ranks up there right under Trials exams which is consequently right below SPM.
Now we're getting serious. Intervention? Pfft. That's rat patootie compared to this. This is monumental. This decides whether my life would end shortly. This will be the bump on the road. This will determine how I leap, and how I fall. This will be the wind that brings me up high, or the unforgiving storm that renders me immobile as I watch it destroy the remnants of my frivolous youth.
Okay, I have had enough of dramatics for one day, so let's focus on the logical stuff, eh?
Whatever logical stuff my brain can process right now without going into cramps and spasms.
Let's take a look at my schedule throughout Intervention, shall we? Let's start with the weekends right before it.
Saturday
Materials read: A quarter of Chapter 3 from Sejarah.
Others: Did anything but study. Re-read The Undomestic Goddess, read the "Love Me Through the Night Anthology", read Lori Foster's "Indulge Me", and searched the net frantically for "Drive Me Wild" by Lori Foster. Again.
Sunday
Materials read: Erin McCarthy's stories.
Others: No damn studying.
Monday
Materials read: Maths. I didn't bother to read it throughout the weekend because I thought that the book was (conveniently) still inside my desolate old locker. Then, I looked under my bed and the horror of a textbook was sitting there, innocent as you please. So, there I was, at 5.50 in the morning, frantically reading through Number Bases and whatever that second chapter was.
Others: At night, I know, I should've learned my lesson. But noooo. I had to sit at the dining table that was oh-so-conveniently-placed near the big, tempting TV, and heck. I'm not human if I could resist that kind of temptation. Not a strong one, at least. And so, I sat there, enraptured, watching Black Hawk Down, falling irrevocably in love with Josh Hartnett. Oh, oh, oh. Of course, I fell all over for him only after he tried so hard to save all his rangers. I do have my standards, you know. A pretty face ain't gon' make me melt that easily. But that fact remains a fact: I did not study that night. Went to sleep at 11.50. Blissful, restful, sleep.
Tuesday
Material: Chemistry Success Book. Woke up at 5.50 (again, eventhough I vowed to wake up at 5.00) and read through chapter 7. It's sad really. This is what we call incorrigibly idiotic. But I was happy, so bear with me. Struggled through AddMaths, and smiled through Agama (although I only read two chapters from the text book.) I have a niggling suspicion that I'll soon be leaking waterworks when I get my Agama marks.
Others: Stayed in bed, from 8 p.m. to 5.a.m. Read ebooks on my phone while lounging on the bed. Did not even bother to sneak a peek at the Physics book, nor the Sejarah book. Lori Foster and Erin McCarthy were more interesting anyway.
Wednesday
Materials: Sejarah. I did not even study Physics. I have false bravado in me and my bizarro mind seemed to think that pseudo courage would get me anywhere. Ah, the illusions we entertain.
Others: Read Erin McCarthy. "Houston, We Have a Problem." Not as delicious as her previous anthology, but mature (as in the writing style. And the content. Sheesh) and well presented. Loved every inch of it. Did not bother with Bio.
Today
Materials: For the first time in three consecutive days, I did not wake up at 5.50 to read Bio. No, I left that for 2 hours before the exam. And heck, if that was not enough, I even sat outside with Euge, Amanda, and Nurul. Apparently, I have the darnedest effect on Nurul. Whenever I am in the vicinity, she starts yakking and starts cracking dirty jokes. Not that I don't contribute too, but heck, I never knew I could make Nurul speak a 1000 words a minute.
Nurul: *cracks joke about butts and how much I liked smacking them*
Me: *grins*
Nurul: *laughs, somewhat near hystericals*
Me: *turns to Amanda* Was she this talkative before I came here?
Amanda: She was pretty darned quiet.
And apparently, Euge was talking about me making a spectacle of myself over Joshua. Eesh. Enough already. It's bad that I think the guy's partially hot, when he so definitely is not.
Me: He's only hot when he opens his mouth. To speak.
And that is the darned truth, I tell you.
But anyways, I've made a discovery too:
Julia: Eh, Eugene, you're going to get a car?
Eugene: Yeah, my mom wants me to try out driving and stuff.
Julia: That's not fair! I'm not even sure I'll get a car.
Me: *blink blink*
Julia: That's not fair! I've passed my "L" and my parents still aren't sure about getting me a car. You haven't passed a thing, and yet you're getting a car for sure!
Eugene: *speaks something in the fast manner he has always adopted till I could not make out what he said*
Julia: *whines* Aww, Eugenee. Gimme your car okay?
Eugene: After SPM.
And there I was, sitting between the two of them, blinking in bewilderment.
I can't even be sure I'd get a brand-new spanking laptop after SPM (instead of getting my brother's lousy, albeit red-hot-cute, one). Much less a car. It's something that would get the "Haha, quit pulling my leg" reaction from my parents.
Julia: Aih, Eugene, you're so anak manja.
Eugene: *turns to me* She says I'm anak manja, but she's actually more of an anak manja than me.
Me: ...
What I really wanted to say was: "Damn, so I'm NOT an anak manja for asking for a spanking new laptop (that, might I add, I have never owned)?"
Me: You BOTH are anak manjas. So shush.
Now that SPM is getting closer, I can't help this feeling of dread. Not dreading the exam. Dreading what'll come after.
I've known you since forever.
Been with you half my years.
I don't think I'll know any other way to live, than with you.
So how exactly am I supposed to leave school, never to see you again, except on rare occasions?
Heck, I suppose we'll be fine. But it doesn't mean I'm not having an onset of trepidation. What if I just fall flat on the first time I have to make an impression? What if I suck to high heaven?
But then again: What's the point of it all, if you're not terrified to fail?
So when the time comes, I'll remember what I always tell myself (amidst the screeching of panic and non-stop head banging going on inwardly) and take a deep breath, and just kill it.
Because heck, I'll have long enough to make other impressions, huh?
Oh agony.
Me: What's your ideal man like?
Nurul: He has to be caring... etc... (I've forgotten. Sorry!)
Me: Hmm... *thoughtful*
Nurul: How about you?
Me: *raises eyebrows.* Me?
Nurul: Yeah. What's your ideal man like?
Me: He must be tall.
Haha.
Me: But not so tall. I don't want to have to look up too much and get a crick in my neck.
Nurul: *laughs*
Me: And... he has to be caring, too, yeah. He must be able to withstand my sarcasm. Because sometimes, I just can't help myself, and I tend to hurt people with my words.
Nurul: *understanding look*
Me: And... well... this must be crazy. And I might've told you this before: there was once when I was feeling discomfited and felt this ache on my lower back. It felt horrid. I laid there, on my bed, on my side. Then, in my half-conscious state, I suddenly felt a soothing massage down my back. And suddenly, I didn't feel to awful atl all .Now that I look back, it was really just a dream, but it's pretty vivid. That's what I want in a guy. My guy.
Wishes, wishes.
Let's leave those to dreams. Because let's face it: I'll never find my guy with the hip-shot stance, sex-swagger and leather jacket.
I'll really miss him in my dreams, though.
You, primitive.
Me, tentative.
We're dimensions apart.
April 18, 2009
She'd Never Guess
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Original Catchphrase:
"Get Izzi, Get Love."
Second-take:
"Get Izzi-er, Get Laid."
"Get Izzi, Get Love."
Second-take:
"Get Izzi-er, Get Laid."
I'm surprised no one on the Advert team saw the irony.
Izzi is an Indonesian body care product. I am not stealing the catchphrase, just pointing out the hilarity of said catchphrase. At least, I think that was the catchphrase. I couldn't resist. I really couldn't.
Izzi is an Indonesian body care product. I am not stealing the catchphrase, just pointing out the hilarity of said catchphrase. At least, I think that was the catchphrase. I couldn't resist. I really couldn't.
November
As dictated by Faranza Syns
It's ugly. And all wrong, I know.
And I don't know why I did this.
Most probably because I downloaded a whole selection of grunge brushes. Har.
It... shocks you.
This realisation that your little sister is not so little anymore.
Next, she'll be stealing your make-up and going moon-eyed over boys.
Ah, it feels good being the wiser.
And I don't know why I did this.
Most probably because I downloaded a whole selection of grunge brushes. Har.
______________________________
It... shocks you.
This realisation that your little sister is not so little anymore.
Next, she'll be stealing your make-up and going moon-eyed over boys.
Ah, it feels good being the wiser.
April 17, 2009
By the End
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I had something equivalent to a panic attack.
But thanks to Afzan, I managed to laugh it off. Thanks, baby.
If I were a boy (wtf), I'd start hitting on you right about now. But since I'm a girl, and I've already hit on you, I think that's moot point.
I can now officially declare that I've watched Sound of Music. Yay!
But thanks to Afzan, I managed to laugh it off. Thanks, baby.
If I were a boy (wtf), I'd start hitting on you right about now. But since I'm a girl, and I've already hit on you, I think that's moot point.
_________________________________
I can now officially declare that I've watched Sound of Music. Yay!
When you're sixteen going on seventeen, Waiting for life to start, Somebody kind who touches your mind, Will suddenly touch your heart, You may think this kind of adventure, Never may come to you, Darling, 16 going on 17, Wait a year, or two.
Sad to say, I am already 17. 17 on the 17th. There'll be no more 17's on the 17th, eh, Haseef?
Anyways, I kinda get why I didn't want to watch TSOM before. I suppose it's because I was a kid when it aired quite frequently, and I couldn't relate to it. There was this... air of solemnity, for some reason. As ignorant as I was back then, I suppose it did not appeal to me.
I love saying Georg's name. Kind of reminds me of gaiety and orgy. Gay-org. Gaha.
Rolfe should be drawn and quartered. Well, for a second there, when he shouted for the lieutenant. Bah, traitor.
And Max is a darling. His droll humour makes me go all fuzzy inside. Funnily.
That's the type of person I'd crush over. Despite the very advanced age. And the wrinkles. And the flowers on his hat. Ha.
Frankly, the only people I like to talk to are girls.
Afzan, will you marry me? I am promoting you from full-time fling to wife-cum-husband.
Haha. No, I am not marrying a girl. I've learned my lesson.
I'll miss Pn. Sheela.
I miss E Von. And Zi Kang for that matter.
I miss the good old days.
Why didn't anyone tell me to appreciate it while it lasts?
Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete?
Anyways, I kinda get why I didn't want to watch TSOM before. I suppose it's because I was a kid when it aired quite frequently, and I couldn't relate to it. There was this... air of solemnity, for some reason. As ignorant as I was back then, I suppose it did not appeal to me.
I love saying Georg's name. Kind of reminds me of gaiety and orgy. Gay-org. Gaha.
Rolfe should be drawn and quartered. Well, for a second there, when he shouted for the lieutenant. Bah, traitor.
And Max is a darling. His droll humour makes me go all fuzzy inside. Funnily.
That's the type of person I'd crush over. Despite the very advanced age. And the wrinkles. And the flowers on his hat. Ha.
____________________________
Rule number 7: marry someone you like to talk to.Frankly, the only people I like to talk to are girls.
Afzan, will you marry me? I am promoting you from full-time fling to wife-cum-husband.
Haha. No, I am not marrying a girl. I've learned my lesson.
_____________________________
I'll miss Pn. Sheela.
I miss E Von. And Zi Kang for that matter.
I miss the good old days.
Why didn't anyone tell me to appreciate it while it lasts?
Yee Ming: *chatters animatedly*Haha. For whar it's worth, I'll miss you, Pn Sheela.
Pn Sheela: Yee Ming what are you doing?
Yee Ming: Discussing about what present to get you, teacher.
Pn Sheela: Your presence is the best gift you can get me
Yee Ming: Aww, teacher.
Yee Ming: *chattering*
Pn Sheela: Yee Ming *gives the 'what are you up to look'*
YM: I'll miss you teacher
Pn Sheela: I was watching you the whole time, and you didn't look like you were missing me.
_____________________________
Why do we look so happy to leave?
Or maybe we're just happy we got this far.
...Definitely happy we made it this far.
Why do we look so happy to leave?
Or maybe we're just happy we got this far.
...Definitely happy we made it this far.
Photo courtesy of Woon Ee Laine.
Is it hard understanding I'm incomplete?
April 16, 2009
Limbs
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I woke up stiff. This would've been a a thing I would smile over had it occurred because of something pleasurable done the night before (I said nothing. Blame your imagination).
The build-up of lactic acid has rendered my arm nigh useless. In simple English, that means I was doing too much heavy work to fast that today I am stiff enough to not be able to function properly. My feet are swollen. No, I am not pregnant. But I have calluses and blisters. I demand compensation.
But, there's always that silver lining, eh?
At least I was using the lift the whole day. Up, down, up, down (blame your imagination again if anything beyond the ordinary comes to mind).
But despite that little ray of joy, I feel... bad. Because throughout the photoshoot, I've done nothing but yell at people. Even people who were my friends became poor, traumatized victims. Notice the 'were' in the sentence? There's a possibility they hate me now. Wargh.
Apologies go to:
Ah. And thanks, Nurul, for the sparkling juice. Now I can play the role of drunkard and pervert to perfection.
Till, then...
Maybe I'll continue educating Kien Yoong's mind about things beyond his ken. (Ooh, Sound of Music.)
I love Pn Sheela, actually.
It's... funny, actually. As in funny in a not-humorous way. Pn Sheela's always giving us second chances. God knows she's given me for than five.
Scepticism is... not a thing I enjoy. But life today has so many tricks in it, and so many people who rush about... I can't help it, can I?
For now, I just pray my limbs will stay intact long enough for me to get through the Third Wave.
Clap, and stomp.
Make them know you're there.
Cheer and shrill,
Don't let them feel your fear.
The build-up of lactic acid has rendered my arm nigh useless. In simple English, that means I was doing too much heavy work to fast that today I am stiff enough to not be able to function properly. My feet are swollen. No, I am not pregnant. But I have calluses and blisters. I demand compensation.
But, there's always that silver lining, eh?
At least I was using the lift the whole day. Up, down, up, down (blame your imagination again if anything beyond the ordinary comes to mind).
But despite that little ray of joy, I feel... bad. Because throughout the photoshoot, I've done nothing but yell at people. Even people who were my friends became poor, traumatized victims. Notice the 'were' in the sentence? There's a possibility they hate me now. Wargh.
Apologies go to:
- Aja, because you called me ceaselessly, yet I always manage to stare at you a second before I have to focus on something else, leaving you standing there, dazed.
- Aaron, for snarling at you just because you opened the gate one millisecond too late.
- 5 Amanah boys for being insensitive and for not recognizing that you guys deserved some respect too although you guys were burrs up my saddle. (But you guys really should've listened to me when I asked you guys to go up. Yes, that kinda spoils the apology, but know this: I feel bad for treating you guys like criminals after all you've done for us.)
- Sally, because I kept on sending you up to call students down. I feel your pain(s), hun.
- 2 Amanah students, because I sent you down at the wrong time.
- Some random form 2 guys, for yelling at you because you did not want to move in front during the arrangement process.
- Natasha and some form 4 guys, for being so skeptical of you, and not believing you were having a PJ class when you were hanging around the Skylite. And for threatening you with a BSL.
But Haseef started it firstI shouldn't have done it.
- Erin, for being so slow the first few minutes of the photoshoot. No one told me what to do. And that leads me to another apology which is I am sorry I'm so blur.
- Pn Sheela, for any possible whining right after the photoshoot. I was near cataleptic, I don't even remember what I did.
- Jia, for being only a BM H.O.D and for not doing much. (yes, I was being sarcastic. Hmmph.)
- Shukran, for not responding to your questions. I was in a daze right when I was sitting on the stage.
- Pn Nursham, for panicking too much when Ka Mun didn't come down for the Fencing Club photo, and for making other people wait.
- Everyone whom I've accidentally said the F word to.
- Chi Hoe, for no reason. Just because he popped into my mind out of nowhere.
- Julia, for snapping. Did I? I don't remember. It was a stressful blur. But I have a feeling I needed to apologize to you for something.
- Afzan. I just wanted to say sorry. For no reason. And also a cover-my-arse-before-I-jump apology, in case those anchovies made you have allergic reactions.
- Nurul, for being a bad influence.
- School Admin, for abusing power these two days (illegal lift-rides and eating at restricted areas. Wow, you don't want to know the power of The 'On Editorial Board Duty" Tag.)
- 5 Alpha teachers, because I've not yet felt guilty for skipping those countless hours of lessons. I'll regret this after Intervention, I promise you.
- And to Kien Yoong, because I'm still cuter than you.
Ah. And thanks, Nurul, for the sparkling juice. Now I can play the role of drunkard and pervert to perfection.
Till, then...
Maybe I'll continue educating Kien Yoong's mind about things beyond his ken. (Ooh, Sound of Music.)
I love Pn Sheela, actually.
Me: *wilts against the sound system box*
Pn Sheela: Tired, Farhana?
Me: *nods soundlessly*
Pn Sheela: Tomorrow will be worse.
Me: ... I want to die.
Pn Sheela: So, Farhana, now you know what to do right?
Me: *nods*
Pn Sheela: *smiles* Good. So now you'll work fine.
It's... funny, actually. As in funny in a not-humorous way. Pn Sheela's always giving us second chances. God knows she's given me for than five.
Scepticism is... not a thing I enjoy. But life today has so many tricks in it, and so many people who rush about... I can't help it, can I?
For now, I just pray my limbs will stay intact long enough for me to get through the Third Wave.
Clap, and stomp.
Make them know you're there.
Cheer and shrill,
Don't let them feel your fear.
April 15, 2009
Debtor!
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I owe someone something.
And that something is, apparently, not my arse.
Yes, what a way to deflate someone's ego, my dear.
To my dear
Yay, you've joined the ranks of Womendom!
Okay, that may be pushing it, but I'm older than you.
Okay, that really was not what I wanted to say.
What I wanted to say was: keep getting more beautiful, kinder, sweeter, sexier. Keep living your life with the zest that only you can muster. Jump higher, run further.
Because I know you can.
Touch the sky for me. And when you manage to do so, turn to me and smile your unique, cheery smile. At least, eventhough I'll be down there, watching, I'll know you're going to go far, and you'll be happy with who you are.
Happy B'day dearest. And I hope one day I'll get to tap you on the shoulder and ask you "Hey, remember me? You loved my ass."
Haha.
Love you, sweetie.
Don't forget to remember me.
On and on, this earth spins like a carousel.
And like a child, we revel in each dizzying turn.
And that something is, apparently, not my arse.
Yes, what a way to deflate someone's ego, my dear.
To my dear
Ee Laine
(a.k.a the one who secretly loves my arse, but isn't willing to admit it)
(a.k.a the one who secretly loves my arse, but isn't willing to admit it)
Happy (Belated) Seventeenth Birthday!
Yay, you've joined the ranks of Womendom!
Okay, that may be pushing it, but I'm older than you.
Okay, that really was not what I wanted to say.
What I wanted to say was: keep getting more beautiful, kinder, sweeter, sexier. Keep living your life with the zest that only you can muster. Jump higher, run further.
Because I know you can.
Touch the sky for me. And when you manage to do so, turn to me and smile your unique, cheery smile. At least, eventhough I'll be down there, watching, I'll know you're going to go far, and you'll be happy with who you are.
Happy B'day dearest. And I hope one day I'll get to tap you on the shoulder and ask you "Hey, remember me? You loved my ass."
Haha.
Love you, sweetie.
Don't forget to remember me.
On and on, this earth spins like a carousel.
And like a child, we revel in each dizzying turn.
April 12, 2009
As dictated by Faranza Syns
To quote Kye Li: I will only blog again when
- someone commits suicide, homicide, and/or genocide in my house
- the earth falls off its axes and/or grows bigger
- and/or when SPM finally ends.
Which is in 5 months. Give or take a month.
And yes, I was paraphrasing in my own terms. Kyeli just stated that she'd blog if the world developed 25 hours.
Don't be surprised if this blog dies.
April 11, 2009
OMS
As dictated by Faranza Syns
If you've been reading my blog lately, you'd understand the abbreviation. If you haven't, well... What can I do, eh?
Does anyone want to venture a guess as to how many 5 Sc. Alpha students were present today? Go on, take a guess.
Done?
Alright, I'll tell you the real answer.
Twenty-seven of us were absent.
So minus twenty-seven from thirty-three. Go on, humour me.
Six.
Only six people (pupils?) from Alpha were present today. But let's just assume Aly, Ian and Chu Meng who went for the PPDA Competition were present. So that makes the it nine. Still, less than a quarter.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm starting to feel the lameness taking hold if me. The strong effect of herd mentality kicking in. At recess, I wondered why I was stupid enough to not debate the topic of my attendance to school with my dad.
But let's look at it this way: at least for once there was no queue for the food.
My writing is beyond horrible.
No, I don't blame myself. I blame the pen.
I have a deceptively beautiful handwriting. I just need to find The Pen. The ultimate pen that would bring me to recesses unknown. The one and only brand that would make my handwriting look like a work of art. Screw Picasso. I'll make it look like angels have graced it with their ethereal beauty.
What brought about this ... crazy, lop-sided, self-consumed rambling, you ask?
Pn. S.
She could not understand a word that I wrote for my composition. After she marked through it (on the spot, mind. It scared me to tears. I had to sit with KY and Cat, and start making lame jokes just to distract myself), she called me over.
And went though every single agonizing mistake that I've done.
And I mean agonizing.
I think I had more mistakes than a blind secretary had during a 1000-words-per-minute dictation (no offense intended towards secretaries worldwide). And I wrote a 2000-words (give or take a few hundred) composition, so it was... horrifying.
But, I made quite a few discoveries:
I, surprisingly, like to repeatedly use the word "merely". Me and Pn S. had quite a fun time hunting down the words.
Everyone in my story seems to be "breaking out" into/out/on something. A run, a smile, and... God, don't ask anymore. I can't stop laughing.
My "S" looks like an "I", an "R" and occasionally, quite mysteriously, it looks like a comma. My "W's", my "N's" and my "M's" tend to be jumbled up.
I blame the pen. Damn pen.
And okay, okay. So maybe I should've paced myself, and not write everything in a rush. But I was writing the thing within a few hours. Two-hours, tops. And when I get an idea, I can't stop writing. No matter how much my hand was aching.
Hence, the bad handwriting.
And then, half-way through, I wilted against the table, so mortified that I couldn't even depend on my backbone anymore. Yes, I really "wilted".
When she wants to torment you, she has a whole repertoire of subtle techniques. Don't be fooled.
But towards the end, as she wrapped up the summary of my work, she said the words that never fail to fuel a student's spirit: "But overall, the story was good—interesting—, and
Despite my burning cheeks, I beamed at her, feeling close to bursting deep inside.
It's because of moments like these that I bother doing her homework at all. She gives comments on your whole essay, making you actually learn from your mistakes. Some teachers don't bother; they just grade your essay, and then add a few inconsequential words that once upon a time, when we were in Standard Three, would've made us go "Wahhh! Teacher says my karangan is good!"
Not anymore. We're growing, and we're wanting more to feed our souls.
At least I find that in Pn S's class.
Now I have to practically stop myself from taking another irrestible look at my essay.
Damn, I can't stop myself.
Ah, and I've just realised that my vocabulary has dwindled to merely(god, there goes the word again) a few oft-used words. I wonder when that had started to happen.
Ah, well. There's no helping it, I guess. I have to start reading books again.
Before I make this confession, promise to not yell at me.
Promise?
If you haven't... ooooh, what the heck.
I have never watched the Sound of Music.
*takes cover* (God, I just know Tarrant, and even Amanda, will flip).
But anyways, we watched a quarter of the whole show at the Audio Visual Room just now, at school.
Ah, bliss. Now, I'll go ahead and start downloading the whole show, if you'll excuse me.
On a more serious note (in comparison with what I've said so far)...
Do you people suppose I should just quit blogging?
Because I have a feeling that it's something inevitable.
Today, I've felt a little maudlin, yes, but without a doubt, I also felt left out in a way. Maybe it's just the loneliness gnawing on my arse, but I definitely felt like things are too much of a bother. Making friends, maintaining that friendship, beating your conscience senseless when you do something wrong towards one of them, beating your sanity to the breaking point when they start seeming as if they don't entirely enjoy your company anymore. Giving yourself heartache over small, unimportant things.
Bothersome, isn't it?
But then, there comes a moment when things would just run smoothly, allowing you the blissful pretense that life is worth the agony after all.
Life, you big cheater.
Anyways, back to the topic at hand.
Should I just close this blog since I don't entirely have the heart to blog anymore?
People rarely drop by anyways.
So I fail to see the point of keeping up.
Maybe I shouldn'y even bother asking. Yes, I shouldn't ask. So don't answer.
I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
Does anyone want to venture a guess as to how many 5 Sc. Alpha students were present today? Go on, take a guess.
Done?
Alright, I'll tell you the real answer.
Twenty-seven of us were absent.
So minus twenty-seven from thirty-three. Go on, humour me.
Six.
Only six people (pupils?) from Alpha were present today. But let's just assume Aly, Ian and Chu Meng who went for the PPDA Competition were present. So that makes the it nine. Still, less than a quarter.
Pn. Rashidah: Farhana~
Me: *pauses*
Pn Rashidah: How many people came in your class today?
Me: ... Five, teacher. (you can never be too sure what to answer, so since this answer was safest because it warrants no extra learning for Saturday, EVERYTHING GOES!)
Pn Rashidah: Five only, ah?
Me: *nods with mock gravity*
Pn Rashidah: How about Gamma?
Me: I have no idea, teacher. But less than half, I think.
Pn Rashidah: *gives cynical look*. Hmmph, it'll be less than that.
Me: .... Okay. Less than a quarter, then.
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I'm starting to feel the lameness taking hold if me. The strong effect of herd mentality kicking in. At recess, I wondered why I was stupid enough to not debate the topic of my attendance to school with my dad.
But let's look at it this way: at least for once there was no queue for the food.
____________________________________
My writing is beyond horrible.
No, I don't blame myself. I blame the pen.
I have a deceptively beautiful handwriting. I just need to find The Pen. The ultimate pen that would bring me to recesses unknown. The one and only brand that would make my handwriting look like a work of art. Screw Picasso. I'll make it look like angels have graced it with their ethereal beauty.
What brought about this ... crazy, lop-sided, self-consumed rambling, you ask?
Pn. S.
She could not understand a word that I wrote for my composition. After she marked through it (on the spot, mind. It scared me to tears. I had to sit with KY and Cat, and start making lame jokes just to distract myself), she called me over.
And went though every single agonizing mistake that I've done.
And I mean agonizing.
I think I had more mistakes than a blind secretary had during a 1000-words-per-minute dictation (no offense intended towards secretaries worldwide). And I wrote a 2000-words (give or take a few hundred) composition, so it was... horrifying.
But, I made quite a few discoveries:
I, surprisingly, like to repeatedly use the word "merely". Me and Pn S. had quite a fun time hunting down the words.
Everyone in my story seems to be "breaking out" into/out/on something. A run, a smile, and... God, don't ask anymore. I can't stop laughing.
My "S" looks like an "I", an "R" and occasionally, quite mysteriously, it looks like a comma. My "W's", my "N's" and my "M's" tend to be jumbled up.
I blame the pen. Damn pen.
And okay, okay. So maybe I should've paced myself, and not write everything in a rush. But I was writing the thing within a few hours. Two-hours, tops. And when I get an idea, I can't stop writing. No matter how much my hand was aching.
Hence, the bad handwriting.
Pn S: I couldn't make out a word you were trying to write.
Me: Okay, okay! *embarrassed beyond words*
Pn S: *smiles* And the examiner will be the reading your writing for the first time.
Me: *insert unidentifiable, tortured sound* Okaaaay. I'll make it better.
And then, half-way through, I wilted against the table, so mortified that I couldn't even depend on my backbone anymore. Yes, I really "wilted".
When she wants to torment you, she has a whole repertoire of subtle techniques. Don't be fooled.
But towards the end, as she wrapped up the summary of my work, she said the words that never fail to fuel a student's spirit: "But overall, the story was good—interesting—, and
Despite my burning cheeks, I beamed at her, feeling close to bursting deep inside.
It's because of moments like these that I bother doing her homework at all. She gives comments on your whole essay, making you actually learn from your mistakes. Some teachers don't bother; they just grade your essay, and then add a few inconsequential words that once upon a time, when we were in Standard Three, would've made us go "Wahhh! Teacher says my karangan is good!"
Not anymore. We're growing, and we're wanting more to feed our souls.
At least I find that in Pn S's class.
Now I have to practically stop myself from taking another irrestible look at my essay.
Damn, I can't stop myself.
Ah, and I've just realised that my vocabulary has dwindled to merely(god, there goes the word again) a few oft-used words. I wonder when that had started to happen.
Ah, well. There's no helping it, I guess. I have to start reading books again.
____________________________
Before I make this confession, promise to not yell at me.
Promise?
If you haven't... ooooh, what the heck.
I have never watched the Sound of Music.
*takes cover* (God, I just know Tarrant, and even Amanda, will flip).
But anyways, we watched a quarter of the whole show at the Audio Visual Room just now, at school.
Ah, bliss. Now, I'll go ahead and start downloading the whole show, if you'll excuse me.
______________________________
On a more serious note (in comparison with what I've said so far)...
Do you people suppose I should just quit blogging?
Because I have a feeling that it's something inevitable.
Today, I've felt a little maudlin, yes, but without a doubt, I also felt left out in a way. Maybe it's just the loneliness gnawing on my arse, but I definitely felt like things are too much of a bother. Making friends, maintaining that friendship, beating your conscience senseless when you do something wrong towards one of them, beating your sanity to the breaking point when they start seeming as if they don't entirely enjoy your company anymore. Giving yourself heartache over small, unimportant things.
Bothersome, isn't it?
But then, there comes a moment when things would just run smoothly, allowing you the blissful pretense that life is worth the agony after all.
Life, you big cheater.
Anyways, back to the topic at hand.
Should I just close this blog since I don't entirely have the heart to blog anymore?
People rarely drop by anyways.
So I fail to see the point of keeping up.
Maybe I shouldn'y even bother asking. Yes, I shouldn't ask. So don't answer.
I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.
Because we'd been hoping for that miracle.
Cat: Eh, do you know who ***'s with now?
Me: ... ***'s with SOMEONE?
KY: Eh, eh, don't tell her la! It's a secret!
Me: ... Eh, KY... How come it feels like so many people are in relationships now?
KY: Yeah... When will our turn be?
Naturally, I understood what he meant. Which was 'when would we individually get into our own relationships?'
Somehow, Cat misinterpreted. And she started laughing, thinking KY was flirting with me. KY and me stared at her, wide-eyed. Then we started correcting her, laughing along.
It makes me wonder...
When will my next dose of ice-cream be?
If you didn't get it, you're really slow on the uptake.
Cat: Eh, do you know who ***'s with now?
Me: ... ***'s with SOMEONE?
KY: Eh, eh, don't tell her la! It's a secret!
Me: ... Eh, KY... How come it feels like so many people are in relationships now?
KY: Yeah... When will our turn be?
Naturally, I understood what he meant. Which was 'when would we individually get into our own relationships?'
Somehow, Cat misinterpreted. And she started laughing, thinking KY was flirting with me. KY and me stared at her, wide-eyed. Then we started correcting her, laughing along.
It makes me wonder...
When will my next dose of ice-cream be?
______________________________
#1: Can match box?
#2: Tin can.
If you didn't get it, you're really slow on the uptake.
Why do I have to keep falling just for your sake?
April 9, 2009
Rucksacks and Tote
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Chapter 5 for Mirricae is up at Fiction Guild.
Yeah, I know that you guys can't read it (or won't bother to). It just feels good to announce it like that.
At the dinner table:
I wonder if one day I have to do that for my husband?
Pffft.
Sometimes, with these people, you just have to take charge.
Oh. And sappy-yet-annoying phase is gone like a burst bubble.
________________________________
At school, I started a massaging frenzy. Practically, I was dancing upon cloud nine. It's nice feeling wanted.
But some insensitive male burst my bubble.
Cue: horrified gasp from half of 5 Sc. Alpha.
I can still remember Kessler's face, even.
But after that, I went to Kien Yoong. And my baby made it better. Aww, thank you, honey.
You're the best.
Between a rucksack and a tote, which do you prefer?
Rucksack. Tote. I chose rucksack. Because it reminded me of Harvest Moon. That little bag the character carries. Yeah. I am weird.
Sometimes it irks me how much your approval bears weight in my life.
Yeah, I know that you guys can't read it (or won't bother to). It just feels good to announce it like that.
Me: I have to stop staring at the phone. It's as if I have a boyfriend.
Jaz: No comment.
_________________________________
At the dinner table:
Dad: Does this dish taste like it has not enough salt?
Ma: Really?
Dad: Yeah.
Ma: *quickly picks up dish and brings it to the stove*
Dad: *places the not-enough-salt chicken onto Ma's plate*
Jaz: AYAH! *scolds*
Dad: What? Your mother told me to place it on her plate.
I wonder if one day I have to do that for my husband?
Pffft.
Ma: *places "repaired dish on table*
Dad: *passes dish to Jaz* Take it first.
Jaz: Alah, you take first la, Ayah.
Dad: Take first.
Jaz: Take first laaa.
Me: Ah, if you guys don't want to take it, just let me take it. *takes it*
Sometimes, with these people, you just have to take charge.
Oh. And sappy-yet-annoying phase is gone like a burst bubble.
At school, I started a massaging frenzy. Practically, I was dancing upon cloud nine. It's nice feeling wanted.
But some insensitive male burst my bubble.
Yee Ming: Wah, Farhana, gentler la! So ganas!
Yee Ming: Wah, Nurul does it better than Farhana!
Cue: horrified gasp from half of 5 Sc. Alpha.
I can still remember Kessler's face, even.
But after that, I went to Kien Yoong. And my baby made it better. Aww, thank you, honey.
You're the best.
___________________________________
Between a rucksack and a tote, which do you prefer?
Rucksack. Tote. I chose rucksack. Because it reminded me of Harvest Moon. That little bag the character carries. Yeah. I am weird.
Sometimes it irks me how much your approval bears weight in my life.
April 8, 2009
Sappy
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I found myself smiling for no determinable reason the whole day. Could it be because of the bizarre dream I had a day ago? Or the way my old man (being Tarrant) so kindly (very unlike him) supported me in my belief that I am still straight (instead of twisting the fact, making me all the more confused, like he likes to do)?Or could it be because I was just going through my sappy-and-utterly-annoying phase?
God knows. But what I know for sure is that Jia is still cute, my Indonesian hottie is getting hotter yet, and I am still looking for viable reasons for me to get involved in a relationship (if ever there would be).
My world has not yet gone topsy-turvy, thank you very much.
And, Shikin? Joshua might have a nigh-bursting-at-the-seams ego. But he will still stay un-hot. So don't worry.
Oh, and my blog became more popular thanks to the piece I wrote on Joshua.
Wow. Thank you, my dear. I should write more on your atrocious attitude.
And my tummy is grumbling. Protesting. Very loudly.
Dammit.
When the leaves fell down you were my lover,
The winter taught me you were my friend,
When spring comes round I often wonder,
Will the summer bring you back again?
God knows. But what I know for sure is that Jia is still cute, my Indonesian hottie is getting hotter yet, and I am still looking for viable reasons for me to get involved in a relationship (if ever there would be).
My world has not yet gone topsy-turvy, thank you very much.
And, Shikin? Joshua might have a nigh-bursting-at-the-seams ego. But he will still stay un-hot. So don't worry.
Oh, and my blog became more popular thanks to the piece I wrote on Joshua.
Wow. Thank you, my dear. I should write more on your atrocious attitude.
And my tummy is grumbling. Protesting. Very loudly.
Dammit.
When the leaves fell down you were my lover,
The winter taught me you were my friend,
When spring comes round I often wonder,
Will the summer bring you back again?
April 7, 2009
Because She Cares
As dictated by Faranza Syns
No, this is not a post dedicated to mothers.
This is just a post to tell you, who means so much to me, that it will pass. Things might be a little haywire, and yes, very, very aggravating right now, but it will eventually go away.
If it helps any, I understand how you feel.
Betrayal's not something we swallow down willingly.
I am offended. Very, very offended. You and your bargaining chips. What, did you think we were so callous, so unthinkingly selfish that we would not willingly help you? What, did you think we were so greedy that we needed so much incentive to help you?
Did you think we wanted your bloody bargaining chip in the first place?
You could've just asked. Too bad you didn't. Jumping like you did just made me think less of you.
I don't know what to say. We'll help you. But consider all sincerity as fake-- you just killed it with your ways.
I love you--
Despite your stubble.
This is just a post to tell you, who means so much to me, that it will pass. Things might be a little haywire, and yes, very, very aggravating right now, but it will eventually go away.
If it helps any, I understand how you feel.
Betrayal's not something we swallow down willingly.
____________________________
I am offended. Very, very offended. You and your bargaining chips. What, did you think we were so callous, so unthinkingly selfish that we would not willingly help you? What, did you think we were so greedy that we needed so much incentive to help you?
Did you think we wanted your bloody bargaining chip in the first place?
You could've just asked. Too bad you didn't. Jumping like you did just made me think less of you.
I don't know what to say. We'll help you. But consider all sincerity as fake-- you just killed it with your ways.
I love you--
Despite your stubble.
April 5, 2009
For - Begotten
As dictated by Faranza Syns
The title makes no sense whatsoever, so don't try deciphering it.
Actually, I went through the family's digital photo collection. Saw pictures of my cousin's wedding. She was one of my closest cousin. Okay, not really, since we have such a huge gap between our age. Anyways, went through the photo collection. And then it came to me.
During the wedding, when we were supposed to take a picture of the whole family, me and Kak Dee weren't there.
Now, everytime Kak Syisy shows her sons and daughters her wedding picture, me and Kak Dee are gonna be left out. I can't help but wonder if we are eventually going to be forgotten. Maybe travel far and wide, coming back to Malaysia once a year, maybe? Not there during The Eid. Not there during birthdays (not that at that age we are any eager to celebrate things that just show how much older we're getting). Overlooked.
That'd be one sad scenario.
Ah, another thing came back to me. We were doing our 'Segak' test the other day.
Did all of you know I am only 154 cm tall?
Short, more like.
Then, we did 'jangkauan melunjur', to see how far we can stretch. Turns out, I could stretch further than most.
You wanna know what Kye Li said?
KL: Alah, of course la. Farhana's got short legs. *laughs*
If you weren't my friend, Kye Li, I'd have glared all the fires of hell into your eyes.
And you'd wake up from a nightmare questioning whether that little quip was worth it after all.
Haha.
I've cut my hair.
Yay?
Haha. I look... better... -ish. Somewhat. I think.
Wargh, at least I'll have less of a bulk underneath my scarf, now.
If you saw a double entendre there, I don't know what to say.
I cannot believe how cute everyone is (except me) when they were small.
One example?
Gahaa, cutely cheesy. He's already holding a black belt, anyways.
And he turns out to be a heartthrob amongst his friends.
Somehow, I feel like she'll turn out to be the beauty amongst us all.
Actually, I went through the family's digital photo collection. Saw pictures of my cousin's wedding. She was one of my closest cousin. Okay, not really, since we have such a huge gap between our age. Anyways, went through the photo collection. And then it came to me.
During the wedding, when we were supposed to take a picture of the whole family, me and Kak Dee weren't there.
Now, everytime Kak Syisy shows her sons and daughters her wedding picture, me and Kak Dee are gonna be left out. I can't help but wonder if we are eventually going to be forgotten. Maybe travel far and wide, coming back to Malaysia once a year, maybe? Not there during The Eid. Not there during birthdays (not that at that age we are any eager to celebrate things that just show how much older we're getting). Overlooked.
That'd be one sad scenario.
________________________
Ah, another thing came back to me. We were doing our 'Segak' test the other day.
Did all of you know I am only 154 cm tall?
Short, more like.
Then, we did 'jangkauan melunjur', to see how far we can stretch. Turns out, I could stretch further than most.
You wanna know what Kye Li said?
KL: Alah, of course la. Farhana's got short legs. *laughs*
If you weren't my friend, Kye Li, I'd have glared all the fires of hell into your eyes.
And you'd wake up from a nightmare questioning whether that little quip was worth it after all.
Haha.
________________________________
I've cut my hair.
Yay?
Haha. I look... better... -ish. Somewhat. I think.
Wargh, at least I'll have less of a bulk underneath my scarf, now.
If you saw a double entendre there, I don't know what to say.
________________________________
I cannot believe how cute everyone is (except me) when they were small.
One example?
Gahaa, cutely cheesy. He's already holding a black belt, anyways.And he turns out to be a heartthrob amongst his friends.
Somehow, I feel like she'll turn out to be the beauty amongst us all.I'll stay the angry, temperamental elder sister, thank you, very much.
I get pissed very easily, mind.
Boo! =3
My feelings--
A rollercoaster-ride is an understatement.
I get pissed very easily, mind.
Boo! =3
My feelings--
A rollercoaster-ride is an understatement.
April 4, 2009
Form 5
As dictated by Faranza Syns
I think, that our fifth year of our secondary education should be named Death Year.
Why?
We are doomed for SPM. A surety.
Our blogs die. Mmmhmm (partially caused my Facebook, must admit, but screw it).
And, my inspiration to write always sputters into a dying flame.
Sad.
Thanks for the note of confidence on Kiss Kiss Muahx!, Nurul. Really needed that one.
And my roflcopter goes soi soi soi.
You're too smart to understand, honey.
Why?
We are doomed for SPM. A surety.
Our blogs die. Mmmhmm (partially caused my Facebook, must admit, but screw it).
And, my inspiration to write always sputters into a dying flame.
Sad.
__________________________
Thanks for the note of confidence on Kiss Kiss Muahx!, Nurul. Really needed that one.
And my roflcopter goes soi soi soi.
You're too smart to understand, honey.
Eye-Candy
As dictated by Faranza Syns
There goes my fantasies-- blown all the way to the Frigid Regions.
I have been misled by a rather enthusiastic Amanda that there would be hot, english-speaking, intelligent guys by the dozens at the HELP Debate Workshop.
Well... at least I got something interesting out of the whole thing.
The Wira debate team had to sit in a different auditorium. The HELP debate team sat in the main auditorium. Half-way through the whole thing, I got bored. I started reformatting my phone. Reinstalled backup files ten times through. Then, I decided to text Dharr.
For those of you who did not know, Dharr has this vendetta against Joshua since last year. We lost to his school (I should be the one who has a stick stuck up my heinie. I lost to my bro's school, dammit). But, I was fine with Joshua. Anyways, amidst muffled laughter from me and Sheng, I sent the message.
Then, afterwards when we were having our lunch break, I read Dharr's reply.
We were all sitting at stairwell, eating, since there was no space in the tiny room for us to sit and eat.
And since I thought that the message was super funny, I said it out loud to Amanda.
At the time, I didn't know she was pointing up at the staircase. I thought she was pointing at the room nearby. Which was logical since everyone was taking food from the room.
But when I processed her words, some gut-sick feeling came over me.
I looked up.
And there Joshua was, looking down.
Somebody should have packed a scythe. Save the Reaper the trouble and just kill me.
I looked away real quick, not wanting to even SEE if he was looking at me directly.
After that, I pretended obliviousness, playing away happily with my phone. Then, came the time when we had to walk up the staircase (and yes, this means passing by Joshua) back to the auditorium.
As I walked past him, I never even looked up from my phone.
If I were someone else entirely, I would've considered myself some love-sick girl who was happily messaging away with her sayang. I must've looked giddily orgasmic.
Eww eww eww.
Scratch that. Hey, I was embarrassed okay? I practically admitted to the public and him that he was hot. The F word doesn't even begin to describe the magnitude of my screw up.
Once, while we were sitting at the stairwell, eating, dear Joshua suddenly had to walk down the stairs, right in front of us. I damn near died of heart palpitations. Don't know what I expected, but he seemed like he was looking at me. Oh, mind you, that was after I practically declared he was hot.
Oh. My. Gawd.
Somebody buy me a chainsaw and start cutting me up. NOW.
But thank God, he walked on by. And though when he was walking past, me andEugene were talking about him, we kept straight faces.
In other words, I am not going to walk out of the room just because he walked in.
Worked considerably well.
When I went into the separate auditorium, I frankly sank to my knees and thanked God for putting me in a different room. (sans the kneeling part. That was just dramatics.)
Anyhow, let's put that aside, eh? Joshua's not worth the brain cells I kill.
Ah, the exhibition debate was uber awesome, uber clever, uber full of laughter.
Once, the government side had a POI they really wanted to ask. So, first, the First Speaker stood up, raising his hand. When ignored, the 2nd Speaker stood too. Consequently, the 3rd Speaker stood as well. After a while, the 1st Speaker decided to be smart.
Okay, try this out. Place your right (or left) palm against the back of your head. Then, extend the opposite hand in front of you.
That's the traditional way of asking for a POI. But no one does it anymore.
Upon being ignored, the 1st Speaker finally resorted to using the traditional pose.
The hall quickly reverberated with cackles of laughter and a sitting ovation (just applause. I'm feeling quirky today, so humour me.) It was bravely bold (redundant, I know) of him, but it added to his style, I'd think.
The Government somehow appealed to me more. I might be biased, but heck. The way the First Opposition used the religion argument kinda turned me off. Because he wasn't using it to its full advantage.
But anyways, he was hot, so let us all forgive him.
Okay, so yes, there are hot eye-candies there.
Manwyn was so-so, too.
Oh. My. Dharr, don't kill me.
On cellphone.
It was fun. So even if I didn't find someone to crush over, I think I'll be fine. I've polluted two minds today, so I feel content.
And no, it's not sexual pollution. It's just piracy.
Distance dulls it all, huh?
Let's breathe easy now that everything has faded into the blue.
David Archuletta can rest easy. I am so over you.
Shake this off, and we're once again moving on.
I have been misled by a rather enthusiastic Amanda that there would be hot, english-speaking, intelligent guys by the dozens at the HELP Debate Workshop.
Well... at least I got something interesting out of the whole thing.
The Wira debate team had to sit in a different auditorium. The HELP debate team sat in the main auditorium. Half-way through the whole thing, I got bored. I started reformatting my phone. Reinstalled backup files ten times through. Then, I decided to text Dharr.
Me: Eh, Sheng Rei, I wanna text Dharr la.
SR: Text la.
Me: *types* Dharr, I saw JOSHUA.
SR: *looks over* Say that Joshua's hot.
Me: *continues typing* He is HOT.
For those of you who did not know, Dharr has this vendetta against Joshua since last year. We lost to his school (I should be the one who has a stick stuck up my heinie. I lost to my bro's school, dammit). But, I was fine with Joshua. Anyways, amidst muffled laughter from me and Sheng, I sent the message.
Then, afterwards when we were having our lunch break, I read Dharr's reply.
Dharr: What the *toooot*?!
We were all sitting at stairwell, eating, since there was no space in the tiny room for us to sit and eat.
And since I thought that the message was super funny, I said it out loud to Amanda.
Me: Hahaha! I sent a message to Dharr. I said Joshua was HOT! Then, she replied with "What the *tooot*?!".
Amanda:... You do realise that Joshua's right up there? *points at upper staircase.*
Me: Yeah, I know.
At the time, I didn't know she was pointing up at the staircase. I thought she was pointing at the room nearby. Which was logical since everyone was taking food from the room.
But when I processed her words, some gut-sick feeling came over me.
I looked up.
And there Joshua was, looking down.
Somebody should have packed a scythe. Save the Reaper the trouble and just kill me.
I looked away real quick, not wanting to even SEE if he was looking at me directly.
After that, I pretended obliviousness, playing away happily with my phone. Then, came the time when we had to walk up the staircase (and yes, this means passing by Joshua) back to the auditorium.
As I walked past him, I never even looked up from my phone.
If I were someone else entirely, I would've considered myself some love-sick girl who was happily messaging away with her sayang. I must've looked giddily orgasmic.
Eww eww eww.
Scratch that. Hey, I was embarrassed okay? I practically admitted to the public and him that he was hot. The F word doesn't even begin to describe the magnitude of my screw up.
Once, while we were sitting at the stairwell, eating, dear Joshua suddenly had to walk down the stairs, right in front of us. I damn near died of heart palpitations. Don't know what I expected, but he seemed like he was looking at me. Oh, mind you, that was after I practically declared he was hot.
Oh. My. Gawd.
Somebody buy me a chainsaw and start cutting me up. NOW.
But thank God, he walked on by. And though when he was walking past, me andEugene were talking about him, we kept straight faces.
Me: Dharr's got a huge thing against him. But I'm fine with him actually.But after that walking-past-him-looking-semi-orgasmic ordeal, I decided to face it like a brave person with considerable amount of guts.
Eugene: I wouldn't know. I've never debated against him.
Cue: Joshua walks down steps, looks at me, and walks past.
Me: *chatters on* Yeah well, that's good then. *pauses*... Was that Joshua?
Amanda: You think?
In other words, I am not going to walk out of the room just because he walked in.
Worked considerably well.
When I went into the separate auditorium, I frankly sank to my knees and thanked God for putting me in a different room. (sans the kneeling part. That was just dramatics.)
Anyhow, let's put that aside, eh? Joshua's not worth the brain cells I kill.
Ah, the exhibition debate was uber awesome, uber clever, uber full of laughter.
Once, the government side had a POI they really wanted to ask. So, first, the First Speaker stood up, raising his hand. When ignored, the 2nd Speaker stood too. Consequently, the 3rd Speaker stood as well. After a while, the 1st Speaker decided to be smart.
Okay, try this out. Place your right (or left) palm against the back of your head. Then, extend the opposite hand in front of you.
That's the traditional way of asking for a POI. But no one does it anymore.
Upon being ignored, the 1st Speaker finally resorted to using the traditional pose.
The hall quickly reverberated with cackles of laughter and a sitting ovation (just applause. I'm feeling quirky today, so humour me.) It was bravely bold (redundant, I know) of him, but it added to his style, I'd think.
The Government somehow appealed to me more. I might be biased, but heck. The way the First Opposition used the religion argument kinda turned me off. Because he wasn't using it to its full advantage.
But anyways, he was hot, so let us all forgive him.
Okay, so yes, there are hot eye-candies there.
Manwyn was so-so, too.
Oh. My. Dharr, don't kill me.
On cellphone.
Me: I'm gonna have to start falling for Joshua if you keep telling me he sucks.
Dharr: OMG, who are you? I don't know you.
Me: Haha, grool. Now I can move on to greener pastures.
It was fun. So even if I didn't find someone to crush over, I think I'll be fine. I've polluted two minds today, so I feel content.
And no, it's not sexual pollution. It's just piracy.
___________________________
Distance dulls it all, huh?
Let's breathe easy now that everything has faded into the blue.
David Archuletta can rest easy. I am so over you.
Shake this off, and we're once again moving on.
April 3, 2009
The Letter A
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Tomorrow is cuci mata time!
Yay!
HELP Debate Workshop, here I come.
Alpha does not equate to hot-ness.
I'm sorry, but I think of you guys as my honorary brothers. It's too big a leap to consider you guys hot.
Except Jia. He has a nicearse derriere. Don't tell anyone, though. ;)
Redid the EduBox assignment.
Warning: The following picture looks like a cross between Erin and Mei Yin.
.
Before.
Peeps, if you steal this, I will screw you front, back and centre.
Get it off your chest.
Don't let it bite you in the ass.
Yay!
HELP Debate Workshop, here I come.
YM: Well, at least the weekend's coming. I can relax.
Me: But I've got a debate workshop. Oh well, at least I can cuci mata. Hot, english speaking guys abound.
YM: Hot, english-speaking males, huh? We have a lot of that in Alpha.
Me: ... Hot? ... Alpha?
YM: Yeah.
Me: ...Name me one?
Alpha does not equate to hot-ness.
I'm sorry, but I think of you guys as my honorary brothers. It's too big a leap to consider you guys hot.
Except Jia. He has a nice
_____________________________
Redid the EduBox assignment.
Warning: The following picture looks like a cross between Erin and Mei Yin.
.
Before.
After.
Peeps, if you steal this, I will screw you front, back and centre.
Get it off your chest.
Don't let it bite you in the ass.
Gut-wrenchingly Lame
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Literally. It's not always that you get a stomach ache that is gut-wrenching. Hah. The irony is so lame (and to mention cheesy) it makes me want to kick my own arse.
Speaking of cheesy... guys value their pick-up lines a lot, huh?
A guy I met not a long time ago used one verylame ordinarily boring ordinary line: "Shall you kiss me, or shall I lie to my diary?"
Me: Lie to your diary.
Bah, of course. Then, I laughed it off, and said in a very artless manner,"That was cheesy!"
I swear I did not mean to yank on his feathers. But he got his dander up and walked away on a huff. Pffft, my life is so horrendously colourful.
I cannot communicate with guys to save my life. Funnily, I seem to only connect with Yee Ming and (occasionally) Eugene.
But then again... I communicate fine enough with Ken. Awwh, my Ken. Haha. It was fun, sitting around with Eugene, Ken and Cheng Kuan. We were chatting away about anything and everything. Since I was the only female in the Advanced class, and the other females were busy training with the coach, I was the only one they could amuse themselves with.
And I amused myself, too. Ah, a win-win situation. Brilliant.
We had debate practice again today. But my stomach was aching so bad, Kim decided to give me a break and we discussed our points in general instead of going on another mock-up.
Thank God.
Me: *bends down, clutching stomach in the middle of the sidewalk*
Amanda: Does your stomach still hurt?
Me: No. I'm just doing this to embarrass myself.
Eugene: Are you okay? I think it's PMS.
Me: It's called PMS for a reason, you know. PRE-MS.
Amanda: Hers is more like Post-MS.
Me: More like Ongoing-MS.
Amanda: During-MS. DMS.
Me: OMS.
The lame conversation you come up with under the influence of pain.
Damn stomach-aches.
I heretofore move to abolish the RM25 per week rule of the household and consequently, raise it to an agreeable value which is RM30 per week.
Jaz's pocket money can stay at RM25, thank you very much. She doesn't pay her own bills, you know.
You can be pretty and be smart too. Examples? Kye Li, Laine, Pei Sun, etc. (If I haven't listed down your name, kindly insert your name mentally there if you deserve it). Pretty doesn't equate to being a bimbo. When you're pretty, and you're a snob, and then you're slightly mentally challenged, then yes, you might want to consider accepting the fact that you've been called a bitch more than once behind your back. And knowing you strong-willed women, you wouldn't give a rat's patootie if you've been called that. You might have your reasons (however misguided or otherwise) to act the way you do. Heck, you might even be proud that people look at you as bitch.
If we dig a little deeper (not much digging needed actually), these women are often strong, independent and have a better chance at being a ball-breaker.
You have your good sides, and your bad sides. Heck, Yin and Yang, anyone?
Yet, it seems that there are people who look at this with black and white as their guide.
My dears, there are shades of grey, you know.
Being pretty, and somewhat dumb, does not make you all that bad. But if you step on people's heads, do be prepared to be lashed out at. You do need some down-sizing at times. Keeps the ego in check.
But (to those whom this may concern), please don't equate being beautiful with being harebrained. It's a bloody insult to Womendom. What? Just because pretty women have extraordinary looks, are blonde (har, another insult. And towards hair-colour, no less. How idiotic is it that you categorise people and their brain-power with the colour of their hair? What? Smart people give off more melanin in their dead cells?), has great complexion, and great legs, it means this person lacks brain cells? What? Ugly guys are idiots? Gap-toothed suckers have no brains to speak of? I know one currently-gap-toothed male who is the best in my class. Screw me front, back and centre if you must, but don't you dare generalise women that way. Beautiful and a Bimbo. A damn insult if there ever was.
Oh, on the matter of women being called bimbos... you males once upon a time went for the bimbos too, remember? Those days when your hormones raged? What? Now you're gonna turn and bite on your own tail? Shame, shame.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And it's not Shakespeare, mind.
p.s: I've managed to get Ian to love the Dark-Hunter series. Yes, all hail Goddess Farhana. (I was just being funny. Don't you guys dare get affronted by the supposed blasphemy.
Dan nadanya berbeda,
Suara nan bergema.
Faranza Syns
Speaking of cheesy... guys value their pick-up lines a lot, huh?
A guy I met not a long time ago used one very
Me: Lie to your diary.
Bah, of course. Then, I laughed it off, and said in a very artless manner,"That was cheesy!"
I swear I did not mean to yank on his feathers. But he got his dander up and walked away on a huff. Pffft, my life is so horrendously colourful.
I cannot communicate with guys to save my life. Funnily, I seem to only connect with Yee Ming and (occasionally) Eugene.
But then again... I communicate fine enough with Ken. Awwh, my Ken. Haha. It was fun, sitting around with Eugene, Ken and Cheng Kuan. We were chatting away about anything and everything. Since I was the only female in the Advanced class, and the other females were busy training with the coach, I was the only one they could amuse themselves with.
And I amused myself, too. Ah, a win-win situation. Brilliant.
__________________________
We had debate practice again today. But my stomach was aching so bad, Kim decided to give me a break and we discussed our points in general instead of going on another mock-up.
Thank God.
__________________________
Me: *bends down, clutching stomach in the middle of the sidewalk*
Amanda: Does your stomach still hurt?
Me: No. I'm just doing this to embarrass myself.
Eugene: Are you okay? I think it's PMS.
Me: It's called PMS for a reason, you know. PRE-MS.
Amanda: Hers is more like Post-MS.
Me: More like Ongoing-MS.
Amanda: During-MS. DMS.
Me: OMS.
The lame conversation you come up with under the influence of pain.
Damn stomach-aches.
_______________________
I heretofore move to abolish the RM25 per week rule of the household and consequently, raise it to an agreeable value which is RM30 per week.
Jaz's pocket money can stay at RM25, thank you very much. She doesn't pay her own bills, you know.
______________________________
You can be pretty and be smart too. Examples? Kye Li, Laine, Pei Sun, etc. (If I haven't listed down your name, kindly insert your name mentally there if you deserve it). Pretty doesn't equate to being a bimbo. When you're pretty, and you're a snob, and then you're slightly mentally challenged, then yes, you might want to consider accepting the fact that you've been called a bitch more than once behind your back. And knowing you strong-willed women, you wouldn't give a rat's patootie if you've been called that. You might have your reasons (however misguided or otherwise) to act the way you do. Heck, you might even be proud that people look at you as bitch.
If we dig a little deeper (not much digging needed actually), these women are often strong, independent and have a better chance at being a ball-breaker.
You have your good sides, and your bad sides. Heck, Yin and Yang, anyone?
Yet, it seems that there are people who look at this with black and white as their guide.
My dears, there are shades of grey, you know.
Being pretty, and somewhat dumb, does not make you all that bad. But if you step on people's heads, do be prepared to be lashed out at. You do need some down-sizing at times. Keeps the ego in check.
But (to those whom this may concern), please don't equate being beautiful with being harebrained. It's a bloody insult to Womendom. What? Just because pretty women have extraordinary looks, are blonde (har, another insult. And towards hair-colour, no less. How idiotic is it that you categorise people and their brain-power with the colour of their hair? What? Smart people give off more melanin in their dead cells?), has great complexion, and great legs, it means this person lacks brain cells? What? Ugly guys are idiots? Gap-toothed suckers have no brains to speak of? I know one currently-gap-toothed male who is the best in my class. Screw me front, back and centre if you must, but don't you dare generalise women that way. Beautiful and a Bimbo. A damn insult if there ever was.
Oh, on the matter of women being called bimbos... you males once upon a time went for the bimbos too, remember? Those days when your hormones raged? What? Now you're gonna turn and bite on your own tail? Shame, shame.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And it's not Shakespeare, mind.
p.s: I've managed to get Ian to love the Dark-Hunter series. Yes, all hail Goddess Farhana. (I was just being funny. Don't you guys dare get affronted by the supposed blasphemy.
Dan nadanya berbeda,
Suara nan bergema.
Faranza Syns
April 1, 2009
All Time High
As dictated by Faranza Syns
Song on stereo: I'm Coming Around Again - Simon Webbe
I'm feeling uber optimistic, despite my bout ofPMS-sy bitchy pessimistic attitude and views.
Tomorrow is EduBox again. Yay!
I'm theself-appointed supposed leader of the team.
Let's focus on the good stuff that happened today.
We were free for almost half the day. The first half of the school day was free because nearly half of the Alpaha class was involved in the dress rehearsal for Speech Day. Smart-arses. It's also because somesmart-arses people decided to skip school today. Hah. (OMG, be optimistic, Farna.)
Next, we had some talks after recess. Career talks, supposedly. Which was very beneficial, really. But I knew the answer of one question, but heck, Derrick got chosen instead. (think. positive. thoughts.)
We gotone candy. So I suppose all else could be forgiven.
Then, we went back to class. And Pn. Siti Marani didn't enter. Phew.
While I was doing the Chemistry exercise, Mei Yin called to me, telling me to look at Jet. I stared super hard, and saw that he was chewing. "JET," I called out. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
He was eating. Obviously.
Chan went to him, and asked him something, blocking him from my view.
Granted, I only raised my voice because I was trying to scare him. For fun. Good God. Then, Chan turned to me, and said "Let him eat, la!"
Imagine this in the part of your brain that registers sound: A tone of voice that is accusatory and angry.
And what made it worse was that nearly half of Alpha chimed in, saying, "Yeah la, Farhana! Let him eat la! What la!"
Yes, I know I am sensitive. I don't need a degree in psychology to know that fact. Tears after being scolded is proof enough. Yeah, I know you guys were just teasing me. And yeah, I suppose I was in the wrong when I shouted at Jet.
But stamping me as the villain-- as the bad guy-- ...that just nicked my feelings in the bud. In a way.
And yes, I became a watering hole right after that. Just a few drops, but enough. I am weak, I tell you.
But funnily enough, Mei Yin came bounding towards me, thinking that the reason I was staring really hard at paper on the table was because I was looking for inspiration on my novel. Aww, Mei Yin, how sweet of you. She offered me tissue when she found out, for God's sake. Thanks, anyways, Mei Yin. Haha. That was also sweet of you when you offered to go to the loo with me when I didn't even think of going. Gosh, I have such an adorably kind friend.
But that aside, I stewed for a while. When Kien Yoong asked for a massage, I consented. But as I started massaging, "Ow, oww, sakit!" he cried. Haha, I guess I was venting on him, too. I became one tad gentler after that.
A while later, he asked me, "Why were you mad?"
Although it was sweet of him to ask (and bother) , no way in hell am I going to admit why to him. Or anyone else, for that matter. But mostly it was because he was having a pounding headache. My poor baby. Haha.
Didn't get to massage Cat though.
Got pranked only once (and what a lousy April Fool's trick it was. Isk.)
Got into a group with four Form Two students for next week's cooking activity. Yes, I was the only logical (albeit somewhat hysterically funny) person there. The others were good sports, but they do spout nonsense at the most random of times.
What else?
Oh. And I can't hug Laine anymore since she now calls me a pervert whenever I come near her.
Ouch.
Takes one to know one, Laine.
Basically, my day was... somewhat balanced.
-ish.
Balance is precarious at best, cataclysmic at worst.
Faranza's precarious at best, cataclysmic at worst.
Whack me on the head, someone.
Being positive takes up too much energy.
I loved you, you loved me,
Supposing we'd have a happy family?
Not on your life,
Nor on mine,
Because looking through the rose-tinted glasses
Never did fulfill any dreams of mine.
I'm feeling uber optimistic, despite my bout of
Tomorrow is EduBox again. Yay!
I'm the
Let's focus on the good stuff that happened today.
We were free for almost half the day. The first half of the school day was free because nearly half of the Alpaha class was involved in the dress rehearsal for Speech Day. Smart-arses. It's also because some
Next, we had some talks after recess. Career talks, supposedly. Which was very beneficial, really. But I knew the answer of one question, but heck, Derrick got chosen instead. (think. positive. thoughts.)
We got
Then, we went back to class. And Pn. Siti Marani didn't enter. Phew.
While I was doing the Chemistry exercise, Mei Yin called to me, telling me to look at Jet. I stared super hard, and saw that he was chewing. "JET," I called out. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
He was eating. Obviously.
Chan went to him, and asked him something, blocking him from my view.
Granted, I only raised my voice because I was trying to scare him. For fun. Good God. Then, Chan turned to me, and said "Let him eat, la!"
Imagine this in the part of your brain that registers sound: A tone of voice that is accusatory and angry.
And what made it worse was that nearly half of Alpha chimed in, saying, "Yeah la, Farhana! Let him eat la! What la!"
Yes, I know I am sensitive. I don't need a degree in psychology to know that fact. Tears after being scolded is proof enough. Yeah, I know you guys were just teasing me. And yeah, I suppose I was in the wrong when I shouted at Jet.
But stamping me as the villain-- as the bad guy-- ...that just nicked my feelings in the bud. In a way.
And yes, I became a watering hole right after that. Just a few drops, but enough. I am weak, I tell you.
But funnily enough, Mei Yin came bounding towards me, thinking that the reason I was staring really hard at paper on the table was because I was looking for inspiration on my novel. Aww, Mei Yin, how sweet of you. She offered me tissue when she found out, for God's sake. Thanks, anyways, Mei Yin. Haha. That was also sweet of you when you offered to go to the loo with me when I didn't even think of going. Gosh, I have such an adorably kind friend.
But that aside, I stewed for a while. When Kien Yoong asked for a massage, I consented. But as I started massaging, "Ow, oww, sakit!" he cried. Haha, I guess I was venting on him, too. I became one tad gentler after that.
A while later, he asked me, "Why were you mad?"
Although it was sweet of him to ask (and bother) , no way in hell am I going to admit why to him. Or anyone else, for that matter. But mostly it was because he was having a pounding headache. My poor baby. Haha.
Didn't get to massage Cat though.
Got pranked only once (and what a lousy April Fool's trick it was. Isk.)
Got into a group with four Form Two students for next week's cooking activity. Yes, I was the only logical (albeit somewhat hysterically funny) person there. The others were good sports, but they do spout nonsense at the most random of times.
What else?
Oh. And I can't hug Laine anymore since she now calls me a pervert whenever I come near her.
Ouch.
Takes one to know one, Laine.
Basically, my day was... somewhat balanced.
-ish.
Balance is precarious at best, cataclysmic at worst.
Faranza's precarious at best, cataclysmic at worst.
Whack me on the head, someone.
Being positive takes up too much energy.
I loved you, you loved me,
Supposing we'd have a happy family?
Not on your life,
Nor on mine,
Because looking through the rose-tinted glasses
Never did fulfill any dreams of mine.
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