Why, Bloody Hell, Why?!

Earwax: The Postal Service - Give Up
Eyeboogers: George Orwell - Animal Farm


I HATE it when someone can make me feel like this. I hate it when someone obviously doesn't give a crap about me, but I want them in my life anyway. I hate it when someone can completely ignore me for months and with one tiny hello that has to be forced can make me hold on to absolutely nothing, not even at straws at the hope that we could be friends. I hate it when someone thinks they're all that with their beautiful friends and shitloads of money and an oh-so-impressive degree and I'm still there listening to someone silently brag about their life. I hate it how someone can make me feel so small, how you can tell every single detail about someone without them saying a word and that is EXACTLY HOW THAT SOMEONE WANTS IT TO BE. Look at me, I'm cool. Do you not feel the vibe of amazingness coming off me? My gorgeous charm and my BIG BIG HEAD? My brilliant taste in music and books and movies that nooo one else among the billions of people on this planet know about or appreciate? AARRRRgggHHHHHH. I want to say go fuck yourself, but at the same time, damn I want you to fuck me too. Why. Whyyyyy.

I've never hated you and wanted you more than right now. Every damn thing that is supposed to turn me and the entire sane AND insane female population off does, but I still literally dream of you when I sleep. I hate that I can hate every damn hair on your obnoxious head and a single incongruent text message can completely change my mind. You think you mean well, but you don't. You think that you're being completely normal and that I'm being completely paranoid, but we aren't. You're a stuck-up snob and you don't know it. Go on into your big mansion on the hill with the ginormous cars. Go on and party in the depths of the city til dawn while drinking yourself silly. Surround yourself with dumbasses so you can make yourself feel smart. None of your beautiful-people friends are going to be there for you when you need them to. When you're puking on the sidewalk, when you gamble your lifesavings away on completely inane activities, when you just might get caught for that stash of drugs and lose all hopes for a job in your profession, when your parents fight til the roof caves in and your siblings are ruining themselves before the age of 20 (and you're helping them kill themselves by providing the substances, no less). They're not going to have your back because all of them are completely transparent hypocrites who will never get their hands dirty, not even for you, a 'friend'. And you won't let me help you. You won't let me take care of you. You won't let me be a friend. You won't even give me a chance. You think I'm beneath you, that I'm a waste of your precious time when you could be playing fucking COMPUTER games and smoking yourself to death while fantasizing about hot female tennis players. But I'm willing to change my mind about you. I want to change my mind about you. Are you willing to change your mind about me? Are you ever going to change your mind about me? I honestly don't know why I care. I don't know why I still want to see you, to look into those haunting eyes, to take in those beguiling lips. Your voice and crooked smile is the stuff of disparate reveries that I know I shouldn't think of but I do. I do want you. Never have I needed someone to want me this way so bad.

Never, I swear.

I Always Knew Mornings Sucked

Earwax: George - Polyserena
Eyeboogers: Anthony Bourdain - A Cook's Tour


Dry-swallowing my antibiotics yesterday left me waking up this morning to discover that it was lodged in my esophagus (and still there as of now). I should have known that it was a sign.

Went to the Pasar Tani at Section 17 at the crack of dawn to get stuff for Raya tomorrow. I was in a comparitively pleasant mood, considering the time of day, and I was sportingly cracking jokes while being weighed down with all the foodstuffs. Then mom and I went for breakfast at Kelana Jaya while waiting for Giant to open. A whole plate of nasi lemak later, the pill was still there. Sigh, I thought. Pushed it out of my mind and we went to Giant to get FIVE HUNDRED bucks worth of things. We were actually pushing around two trolleys, one for food, one for the rest. Two donuts later, the pill was still there. Okaaay, I thought. Then we went to Section 14. Wasn't planning on getting out of the car because I wanted to nap, but we found parking so I had to. Traipsed into the wet market and said my usual hello's to the vendors. 'Saya punya bini sudah beranak,' says Raja the vegetable seller, referring to the market cat. He points to an abandoned trolley and saw two little furballs curled up in it. Aw, I thought, picking up the more docile one. It sleepily settled itself in my hand, so I decided to let it nap and play with the other one. And that was when I saw it. Its rear right leg was dangling backwards, covered in slime and stank so so bad. Me, being me, promptly burst into tears as the injured kitten feistily plundered through the newspapers in the trolley, not noticing that his one of his legs was rotting. The kitten needed a vet - fast. So I asked mom, as she was the one driving. Her answer completely signified why I call her Akasha: Takde masa, Mommy nak balik masak. WHAT THE FUCK?! I almost slugged her right there and then. No one else at the pasar seemed to think that a kitten's life was worth saving. Begging and pleading came to no avail, so I called Danial. Incredibly grounded, he couldn't leave his house. I called Liyana. Stuck in Shah Alam without a car, and Aunty Ina took the Perdana to work anyway. I called Rashdan. He had class, and for some deluded reason, couldn't understand the concept of 'as long as you pick it up today, the kitten seriously needs help', so fuck him. So mom, wanting me to stop 'wasting her bill' I suppose, finally offered to send it. 'I need to bring the mother and the other kitten sekali, they're only three weeks old.' She did a complete turnaround. 'Nak letak mana? Kereta dah penuh. Ala Alia, leceh la, Mommy nak balik masak. We'll send it on Sunday if it's still there.' I was so angry I couldn't even speak. I rode home in the passenger seat in complete silence, seething mad, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. Once we got back, I put the groceries away and threw up my breakfast. The pill was still there, but I had bigger things to worry about. So I picked up the car keys to go send the kittens myself, and she stopped me. 'You have to anyam ketupat.' Unbefreakinglievable. The evening went by with me in an eerily calm mood. Mom sensed it and kept quiet herself. Then at 7, Liyana calls and says that Yu-Ming could pick up the cats. Alhamdulillah, I thought. An hour later, he calls as he searches for the cats and I give him directions. Then it all started to go to hell again. He found the lame kitten first, and it was attentive, which was a great sign. But he couldn't find the other one. Look, please, I pleaded. Two seconds later, he finds it, but it wasn't breathing. Oh fuck oh shit oh nooo. I begged him to do whatever he could to save the other one. He promises. I call Yu-Ming a half hour later, and he said that the mother stubbornly refused to go with him. So now he has a three week old kitten with no mother, a broken leg and no kitten formula but promises me that he would take it to the vet first thing in the morning. The icing? When I told mom, she just nodded, said 'that's good' and promptly ordered me to peel onions. Should've thought better than to hand a knife to me when I was that enraged, but I managed to bottle it up as I pretended I was pounding her eyeballs in the lesung batu.

Thank you, Yu-Ming. I wish I could have done it myself, but there is no way I can leave this house because I've been enslaved to kitchen duty by a woman who has every power to crush me. I will help any way that I can, though I fear that the vet will see no hope for it. I'm sorry, little one. Please know that I am praying for you.

The best part? The pill is still there. Perfect day.


(Note: Both kittens have since passed on. A moment, please)

Good Things Come To Those Who Wait

Earwax: Rooney - Rooney


Things I've realized today:

Skill can be built, talent can't be bought. School might just be my ticket out of here. I might have been asked out by a hot boy. Damn, I can sing. All in due time, I will be with the one I am meant with. Ketupat-weaving + mommy = fun. Burgers are yummy.


Calls that were made today:

Rashdan called. We got a few big big questions hanging in the air out of the way. The world isn't ready for us, that's all I'll say. Called Pa'an to remind him I'm still alive. Amazed at how amazing both his and Danny's voice over the phone are (and I've been told mine is sexy X)). Called Li, we be soul sistahs. Going to kick Crow into the ring of fire soon enough. One person I haven't called is Melissa because she needs to tell me when i can. You okay girl? My inbox is getting dusty *sniff*


Events that are happening soon:

Raya Haji is this weekend. Peace on earth and all that. I'm going to Yogyakarta and Jakarta during Chinese New Year, keeping in with with my mom's tradition of dragging me to Indonesia everytime CNY rolls around (don't ask). I foresee moderate-scale wardrobe expansion. Plus Faruq, me and some of the family are going to Morocco at the end of this year, possibly to Spain as well. We definitely trippin', in maaany ways. ^{THE FOOD} THE FOOD _{THE FOOD}. Yes, if I were you I'd hate me too. Muahahaaa.


That's it for now. Later, gator.


_{(Danial, I need your help!)}

No, Not Again. Not Now.

I'm falling somewhere I shouldn't. Going somewhere I swore I wouldn't, or at least thought I never would. This isn't supposed to be happening. Not now, not in this place. Not when it's abso-fucking-lutely crucial that I don't do this right now. That I pay attention and energy to what is more important and (key word here) available. This sucks this sucks this sucks.

As of today, I hate myself for doing this again.

Nyeh Nyeh Nyih Boo Boo

To all Livejournal.com users, hahaaaaaahahaahaaahhhahaa.

Oh, How Amusing

In the year 2005 I resolve to: Make the FBIs most wanted list. Get your resolution here

John Mayer Is My Soulmate

I knew that the day was going to hell when I threw up my medication during my morning shower. First of all, not all of it exited my system and let me tell you, those 'do not drive or operate heavy machinery' warnings are on those boxes for a reason. I somehow get to school in one piece, only to find out that I failed last term's design class and that I have to repeat the class with the lovely 'F' sitting pretty on my record. I then decided that I had enough so I left to meet Elaine only to find out that after almost two years of parking in the same alley, I got my very first parking ticket ever. Surprising as it may sound, I've never gotten a ticket for any traffic offense in my entire driving life, although there was that one incident where I managed to wheedle my way out a speeding booking by saying that I had to go to the loo. Elaine was an absolute darling though, and treated me to RM40 worth of appetizers at Friday's to make up for my bad day. Came back home to discover that the family was going out for satay for my dad's birthday dinner, and to those who don't know, satay is one of the very few things that I do not eat along with dalcha, peas and durians. After not eating dinner, I sobbed on the phone about my grades to Mr Feisol, who managed to pull me back up on my feet as only he could. Finally got the guts to tell my dad about Mr Rahim wanting to talk with him about my superb performance in class, though not about the ticket, figuring one bad news on his birthday was enough. Managed to catch the first episode of Oliver's Twist before bed, which only reinforced my already overwhelming love for food. I almost decided to take this semester off and breath, decide whether I really wanted to go through with the whole nine yards of hard design labor, but figured slowing down was better than pausing, considering that chances are I'd quit if I took a hiatus and my parents would have an aneurysm (which in retrospect, doesn't sound like a bad idea). Plus, I have no idea what I would do if I didn't do design. I love it so much even though I'm terrible at it, and compared to, say, engineering which I would probably excel in but hate, I'd rather do what I want to. I'm sitting on my bed now, and my room is still in a horrible mess, my throat is fucking itchy and my foot rashes are back.

So I put a disc of my man's music on, close my eyes, think about finding him covered in rain, and all is well again.

Ah, Shuddup

Different people want different things out of life right? Some chase fortune, some chase fame, some chase skirts. The problem with a lot of people - and by 'people' I mean certain unmentionable relatives - is that they think that the same things make everyone happy. Everyone must be married before thirty and have 2.5 kids and live in an overly renovated house driving matching Honda Civics to their stable 9-5 office jobs. I don't see the point of many of the things stated in the previous sentence. Not everyone wants to get married, have children, or both. I had an argument with my dad the other day when the subject of my unmarried 33-year-old Abang was brought up for the billionth time. I simply stated that maybe, just maybe, that's not what Abang wants out of his life. There's no reason to get married, especially by a certain age, just because society dictates you must. It's worse on you when you just settle with someone whom you think 'this one'll do, I guess' because you think no one else will want you and you just do it because of the stereo-nagging you get from your relatives. You end up resenting your partner and the kids (whom you probably - not to be evil - didn't want in the first place) will grow up in a shabby excuse of a home with no mirth and love. And my dad went 'I don't think it's by choice, I don't think he sat down one day and decided that he didn't want to get married'. Well of course he didn't, genius, my point is that it never even crossed Abang's mind to tie the knot with someone, at the very least not for now. He has other things on his mind, of which I don't know of, but is none of my business, because that's his life. So my dad says 'Your brother's just too career-minded'. That's not our problem now, is it? He loves being a doctor, that's what he want to do with his life. No one pushed him in that direction. It was his own choice and he loves it.

And (unrelated, but) speaking of which, who said that you must have a typical cubicle-d job just because it's stable? I know too many people who decided on taking business or accountancy and end up completely hating their jobs and wish they'd taken up wildlife photography or graphic design or whatever it is that they've always loved. I say do something because you want to, not because your father told you to study IT or your mother's a lawyer. All of what I've said, it's especially hard in countries like this, where we're all struggling to make a buck and all our parents before us came from stupendously large families and most of them, if not all, are married and exchange (honestly speaking) pathetic stories on their unfulfilled lives. I really believe that if they had to do everything over it would be completely different, but the problem with us, and more so with Malays, is that we think that we're not good enough. Either that or we're just to goddamned lazy. We take the easiest paths, go where it seems to please everyone but ourselves and end up trapped in a meager excuse of a life. Our time on this wonderful world is way too short, I say. Do what you will, because you really can't do it over. I'm not saying that you can't listen to what people have to say at all, but the first person you have to please is yourself. It's your own life, live it how you want it to be lived. Have faith, and the rest will fall into place.

"Everything is okay in the end... if it's not ok, it's not the end."

Yum, Yum

Earwax: Minnie Driver (yes, she sings!)

There's something extreeemely enjoyable about watching gorgeous people preparing gorgeous food in gorgeous ways with their gorgeous hands while speaking in gorgeous accents. I can't get my eyes off of Jamie Oliver, no I can't.

I can't.