May 3, 2009

Lurve.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Post date: 03/06/09



How could you fall in love with a dream? It's practically stupid.

But I suppose it keeps me alive. And hey, anything that keeps me alive is good enough for me.

Shall I tell, shall I tell?

I think it started with Julia. Mind, this is just a dream, alright? It happened in class. I turned around, and she said that a guy--whose name I've conveniently forgotten, except for the fact that it has the letter S, I, L, B, and A. Basil? Who knows-- she knows has a friend who's interested in me.

Somehow, in that dream, I just dismissed the fact.

And let's move to the next scene shall we?

I was in a hall, an auditorium full of people. The lights were bright on the stage, the decorations a deep velvety red. It didn't look gaudy-- it looked extravagant.

Somehow, I felt like I was in St. John again. Please don't ask me why I thought that.

The music around me rose to a roaring, spirit-lifting crescendo. I looked around, and spotted a whole orchestra on the balcony above the stage. The light flickered, then shone steadily, its intensity increasing as the orchestra soared to heavenly heights.

And then, just as quickly, the music stopped, and I was left breathless as various voices shouted out approval, and a desperate call for an encore.

I just sat and smiled.

Then, "Farhana! Farhana!"

I twisted around, and looked behind, knees on my seat. "Yeap?"

Funnily, behind me, there were no more seats. Just the floor at the bottom. And an escalator. Yes, super weird.

"Hey!" a guy called out. Apparently there was a whole group of them at the bottom.

And lookie. His name had the aforementioned letters. And did I mention he looked rather buff? And oh-so-super hot?

And somehow then, I got excited and talked eagerly with him.

Until he and some of his friends mentioned that one of the guys fancied me. That's when the panic set in. They motioned with their hands at one of the guys who'd stood by the whole time, watching quietly as his friends spoke. He looked like... I don't want to say. But when I saw him, the panic I felt suddenly spiked. All that I could think about was running. Just running.

I spotted someone walking past them. And since the guy looked a lot like Shane, I grabbed that like a life-line. "Shane! Shane!" I shouted, and chased the guy, running away from B,A,S,I,L and his friends. Especially from the fact that someone fancied me.

And it turned out that the guy that looked like Shane wasn't Shane at all. And somehow, a gaggle of girls who seemed to have followed me as I chased "Shane" laughed at me. Laughed and laughed, screaming about how stupid this whole thing was. But I kept running. Into stairwells, down the stairs, up the stairs, into elevators. Until I ran out of breath and sat a stairwell, crying.

Don't ask me why. I was just scared. And desperate.

Then, when my tears were spent, I escaped the stairwell, and exit the building. As I was walking outside, I stumbled across the him. Somehow, after crying it all out, it didn't feel quite as scary, seeing him again.

He bent and helped me up, still silent. But he smiled. Not that scary, all-too-charming smile. But a kind smile that reflected his kind spirit.

At first I was a little repelled. I have no recollection why. But when he (somewhere along the line) took off his shirt to perform some sort of physical labour, all misgivings were forgotten.

He looked delish.

But anyways, somehow, right then, away from his friends, he looked different. And really, the notion wasn't entirely so scary anymore. Silent, he walked with me as I scouted for Ma's car.

I looked up at him, and asked his name.

His lips moved to form the sound. And I smiled wider.

He smiled as well.

And I turned, waved and ran towards Ma's car. I jumped in, and my heart was...

All I could do was smile.

Until I realised that I hadn't gotten any way to contact him. And I panicked again.

And then he was there, at the door, handing me my bottle (oh god, dear trusted bottle, why did you appear in my dream as well?) and there, stuck on the cap was a taped note.

Someone beside me gasped "His number!"

And it turned out, yes, it did contain his number.

The car began to move and I waved. He waved, too, smiling.

And then, as I reached home, I waited a long time until I remembered to send him a text.

And just as I was about to do just that, someone rudely woke me up from my dream.

Thus, the dream ended there.

Haha, I'm so disgusting. So fanciful, and so hopeful.

Come to think of it, this is the kind of thing I want happening at least once in my high-school life. I don't want forever-after. I don't want fairytales or happy-endings. I just want to look back and remember. I want to look back and laugh at this, knowing that it happened.

I want to feel this once. Just once.

But I suppose that's asking for too much.

Focus, focus. SPM is near.

So's the end of the year.

I've been feeling sappy so frequently, it's scaring me.

But at least the thought of him makes me smile.

Oh, and let's not forget my ex-boss.


Me: Zi Kannnnnnnnnnnnng~

ZK: Yes, Faraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?

Me: Fara? Haha. Naw, just wanted to disturb you. You busy?

ZK: Faranza. Haha. Yeah. Extremely. Have not been sleeping for nights

Me: Exams?

ZK: No, assignment.

Me: Oh. wow.

ZK: Haha.

Me: omg, I will now go kill myself for hogging your precious time.

ZK: Haha. I know you're very freeeeeeeeeeee

Me: hoho. True, true.

ZK: Go and read newspapers. HAHA

Me: Dun wannaaaaaaaa. Lol, but nvm, I'll leave you alone. For now. Ahem. go go, Zi Kang! I will root for you from here xD

ZK: Thanks. I shall flirt with you once I'm free.

Me: Looking forward to it.



You STILL owe me a candle-light dinner, Zi Kang.

He showed me a model that he made. Awh, I am so freakin' proud of you, Zi (which is better than just calling you Kang-Kang). It was beautiful. *jumps and claps*


Me: that is awe-bloody-some. omg, is it any wonder why I flirt with you? It was because I knew you were talented.

ZK: HAHA. Okay, we'll chat next time, ok?

Me: Wokays! Muahx! Bubye~

ZK: Muakkzzz!

Me: Haha!


Somehow, seeing my ex-boss giving me a virtual kiss was just too funny to contain.

All hail the Romeo wanna-be. ;)

Flirt with me soon. I'm just super bored.


And his name is...
Deep inside this tiny heart of mine.

Pulling Legs. Surety.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

To my two most (ahem) valued affairs:

Shikin, and Afzan,

I was just pulling your leg.


Did you by any chance notice the lack of sincerity in the previous post? Heck, I did. It was a myriad of hold-your-laughter-in, no-don't-guffaw, ah-efing-heck-I'm-a-lousy-liar post.

I am sure of myself. I am sure of my writing. Even if I do suck at it, I'm sure I can learn to be better.

I'm about as lost as a woman with a map. (okay, all of us know that women and maps are occasionally hopelessly aty war with each other, but eventually) I'll find my way, eventhough there are times that I might get frustrated and start blaming everyone else.

I might be unsure of what to do after SPM, but hey, I've plenty of time to think it through, no? Besides the fact that Pn Song blatantly, unquivocally, flat-out rejected the idea of a Career Test, I'm sure nothing much is going to come up just to stop me from discovering who I am.

I'm half-way on figuring out who I really am. And so far, if we disregard the petty things that I dislike about myself, I love me. I love seeing what I might someday become. I love knowing that I'm working for it.

I love knowing the limits are endless and my sky is not numbered.

I love me, being unencumbered.

Oh, did that just rhyme?

So what if I say scathing things? If you can't deal with me... well...

I can't do much to change myself. Especially over something as tedious as that. I say scathing things, but I make you feel good, too. It's my ying and yang, dear. Think it over.

The only thing that was truth in the previous post were the quotes. They were real-life, bona fide quotes.

But heck, I've overcome them.

"You. You're weak."

I'll make you eat your words.



Adjudicator, mine,
He was being a prick!

Debator mine,
He is a he,
of course he'd have a dick.

Ouch.
Can we please stop talking about my privates?

Nyata.

As dictated by Faranza Syns

"You're so lucky. At least you've found what you're good at."

"Wow, so you know what you're going to be? That's great!"

"You'll be the greatest author one day, Hanna!"

"Oooh, so you're gonna be a psychologist? Wow!"



Truth is, I don't know what I'm going to be.

I might be good at writing, but I can hardly line my stomach with words, can I?

Psychologist? Interesting.

But I don't know. I just don't know if I can do it.

There are times that I answer "author!" or "Psychologist/ psychiatrist!" with such confidence and passion that the clarity of my enthusiasm drowns out the doubts in my head. Those sneaky voices telling me to think twice, and think hard, because after this, there might never be a chance.

My passion has dried up.

I am lost.

Writing? I'm no good. Psychologist? What do I know about understanding humans? I say the most scathing things.

Exams? I'm never going to be good enough.

Debate?

Scholarship?

University?

Work?

Expectations beyond my reach?

Anything?

"You. You're weak."

Yes, I am. I suppose I haven't realised the truth of it until now.

I'm sorry for being me.

May 1, 2009

Knives and Forks

As dictated by Faranza Syns

Ah screw it. It's not as if Tim's gonna be around my blog. Pffft. A strike that didn't quite make it.



Yesterday


Dad: We're going out for dinner.



And so, there I was, rushing, knowing that with the time I'll take to change my shirt, dad would already be in his beloved Nabira, honking away.

Seriously, it scares me sometimes how quick everyone else dresses.

Or maybe it's just how slow I dress. Let's not delve too deep in case we stumble across something unsavoury, eh?



Me: Where's bro?

Ma: He's at his girlfriend's house.

Me: *GAAN!?* Again?



Notice that the reason for my shock is because he's there again. The fact that he goes to his girlfriend's house no longer stumps me.


And so, while we were eating at one of the roadside stalls, comfortably seated close together, joking over our evening meal,


Me: What would you guys do if I bought my boyfriend home?

Ma: *speechless for a moment.*

Me: *blinks artlessly*

Dad: ... Do you have one?



Haha. The atmosphere was nearly scary.


Me: I said "if", ayah.

Ma: Well... it depends on the time, really.


Dad was rather quiet a while. Then, he said on a quiet tone, "Kalau berani, bawak la."

And he made knife sharpening sounds using his fork and spoon.

He was joking of course. His telltale grin said it all.

Then, he started talking about his friends, the percentage of them who were married to their highschool sweethearts (approximately 0.9%, I think), and the chances of them actually surviving that marriage. (0%, by the way)


Dad: You might think, for now, that you've matured. *Smiles* But one day, you'll look back, and say "Matured? Hah."


Believe me, dad. I've done that a lot. And I see it many times when I take a look at my older stories; stories that I've convinced myself, once upon a time, were as mature as I could get.

Heck, no. I've still a lot to learn.

And heck, what boyfriend? Haha.


Ma: BUT, if you have a boyfriend, you must bring him to see us. Don't keep it a secret.



No worries, Ma. That's one sin of omission I'll never have to worry about.

;)


A tightening of the chest--
This is so not love.

April 29, 2009

Ultimatum

As dictated by Faranza Syns

As long as Timothy Quek does not update his blog, I won't, too.