Pancakes

Dear God,

I know I've been absent.

But if you could just give me a break, for even one mere day...

I promise I'll be a better person.

Thank you.

I love you.

Kit Kat

This might sound stupid, but, as the Malays would say it, "who's cares".


I think, God hates me.


Ok, so maybe God blessed me with my ehem, good looks and personality. Narcissistic? Me? What? No...

But God also deprived me from mathematical intelligence.

It wasn't a big deal back when I was young. Er.

I figured, so I can't do maths, I'll just study law then.

But now...

Being 20 and all, I have finally come to realise that, my life basically sucks, because of my mathematical impairment.

Example of how much my life sucks, because of maths;

If I was good in maths, then I wouldn't have to study law, which would mean that I would have never had to go to MMU, which would mean that I would have never had to take mooting as a subject, which would mean I would have never had to study maths, AND chemistry, in class ever again.

That Kon Fatt Kiew Rubber Scrap crap case really ruined my life.


X-?





X = 30.




HAH?





What is this mathematical calculation process called?


Erk, erm.... Bumi Sebagai Sfera? No no... Penaakulan Mantik? Pemfaktoran? Ungkapan Algebra?????????








Water = H2O.

H+ + O2- -------> H2O.



What Apa???



What is the name of this process?


I know I know. Proses Penurunan? Proses Penyulingan??? Elektrolisis? Pengoksidaan? Penyahtinjaan??? ARGKH SCREW IT! PROSES PEMBIAKAN.





Do you see it now??? I finally know who to blame!!!


My family sucks.... DAMN YOU MATHS!

My money is menipis-ing... DAMN YOU MATHS!

That annoying bitch is ruining my life, by being alive... DAMN. YOU. MATHS!

Memorial. Bundle. DAAAYYYYYYYUUUUUM YOU MATHHHHHHS!!!!!!!!!!!!







bye bai.

xShad.





p/s: I love looking at my pictures on other people's blogs.

Jello

Girrrl, I know you di'nt say what I think you said.
Ma name iz Shontelle and immabout to wipe yo skinny white ass on da flo.
Girrl hold ma hooped earrings.





So yeah, if you haven't heard, I've finally decided that, I, am straight. On most occasions.


Oh, and my beautiful life sucks. Big time. But hey, at least I'm smart.


Oh wait, my CGPA dropped tergolek-golek last trimester. Haha.


Oh well. At least I'll do better this trimester.

But wait, have you met my friend, Mr. Mooting? Owh, no? Well this is Mr. Mooting. He doesn't know it yet, but he's gonna destroy my life. Yesterday, Mr. Mooting asked me a question. It was so fun!

How do you interpret interpretation?

OMG, soooo coooool.

My answer... Prepare yourself. Shocking.

Interpretation can be interpreted by interpreting the many forms of interpretation it has. According to the interpretation of interpretation, interpretation can be described by interpreting the interpretation interpreted through the interpretation of the interpretation of the interpreted interpretation of its many interpretations.





It's bull crap like this that really gets me thinking, what the effing hell am I doing with my life. While other 20 year-olds are being 20, I'm stuck being 45. Heck, I've actually got more issues than most 45 year-olds. The family crap, check. Trying to interpret interpretation, check. Financial instability, check. Reading thick, heavy, and artistically retarded books (refer to the covers of all our text books), check. Knowing the difference between the murder and culpable homicide, check. Knowing how to get a divorce, check. Tired of living, ch-ch-ch-check.


Truth is, my life isn't that bad. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's horrible and very, very unbearable. But it's actually quiet ok. I mean sure I may lash out and bitch about it, but I still want to live, and one day, see Kris Allen [lalalalala].

What the hell am I talking about. God, I should've have studied journalism instead. I mean, I'd like to think I would make a good writer.


"... and as I sat there, staring faithfully through the large glass window, with coffee in one hand, and the other pressed across my forehead, I began to question myself. Why can't I be like those people out there? That family looking ever so gay, and those group of homosexuals looking ever so gay. How gay it made me feel to see the the gayness spread across that gleeful day, with the shimmering lights shimmering as it shimmered across the shiny floor that shimmered. And then I saw it, that of what I have feared for for a lifetime of fear. My heart began to quietly whisper a loud scream. My body began to tremble as the sheer intensity of my tense vibes began to tremble the veins in my trembling body that trembled ever so violently. I wanted to scream aloud, inside my own secured mentality, so that no one would hear, as everyone listened. I gathered whatever courage my trembling body could offer, being the sole offeror of my offering self. I WILL NOT BOW DOWN TO YOU! YOU WILL NOT ASSAULT ME. TODAY, I FEAR NOT OF YOU, PERFUME AVENUE! ..."










Oh, now I remember, I suck at writing. So law it is... Mooting, and everything else it has to offer/offor.


Yay me!

Biskut Bantal

Dear God,



I love you.

Roti Pisang

With the finals over, I finally got rid of that I-wanna-puke-every-5-minutes feeling...

The past week has been, erm, I'll define it as bittersweet.

Just when I thought Contract Law was bound to slaughter my CGPA, along came Malaysian Legal System, sneering as it sung silently in its demented soul "na na nana na, you're gonna fail me...".

Ok, that "na na nana na" thing was a little too much, even for me. But my point is, I think I speak for everyone when I say we overlooked Malaysian Legal System. I answered 2 questions, averagely. Totally screwed the "which court?" question, and I think the darling lecturer would be literally rolling on the floor with laughter screaming "this idiot thinks he's a law student!" when she reads my "advocate & solicitor" answer.

Owh I'm so uninspired. I promised myself I wouldn't rant on this blog. I didn't want to end up writing posts about how my day went, how I'm feeling and what not. I'll let the bunch of people who are way more interesting, fun and cooler than me to right those posts. [yes Lynette, Ruby, NKC, Rishi, Joanne, I'm talking about you guys...] But look at me now, contradicting my very own self, being the hypocrite most people say I am...

Ok then. I'll stop...








I found you back, and I always knew I would, because I never stopped caring for you. It was nice talking to you again. It was nice seeing again, even though it was only for a mere half hour...

I sometimes feel that you see right through me. You know me more than anyone ever did, or even ever will. The fact that I can't do what I do best; I can't fake a smile, I can't lie, I can't even be happy without you not noticing it, it scares me to death. But it's amazing how after three weeks of silence, you still manage to say aloud the things which would kill me if the world knew.

It was that simple sentence.

"... Anda, even though you hate each other, you can't deny the fact that the both of you have the same mindset..."

I've denied it many times in my head. Just because we share the same birthday, it doesn't mean we are the same. But the truth is apparent. I know it is. I just thought, if I kept on denying it in my head, I would eventually never think about it.

...


I was packing the few belongings I had kept in my room. As I picked up my foundation notes, images of the young[er] me flashed across my eyes. God I can't believe I actually wore that. God I miss those times. God I miss him. God I miss her. God I miss the way things were...

I love it how you will find the most nostalgic items when you're about to leave a place. I was dusting the shelf when I found that blue book. It stood out awkwardly beneath the extra Federal Constitution I had bought and my most favourite book, Where Rainbows End. I tried to hide the smile that was forming in my face. I failed miserably.

That night, together with my "1Malaysia" [my landlord had called my group of multiracial friends as 1Malaysia, which made me think "...if only she knew the things we say to eachother..."] friends, I cleaned my new apartment, though it was Katherina who actually did most, if not all, of the cleaning. While cleaning the apartment, my new housemate, Su, told me someone had given him curtains for his room. I told him I'd already bought the fabric, and was waiting for my dear mother to sew it into curtains.

... I asked him what colour was his curtains. He said black and white.

... I got excited and screeched, "OMG MINE TOO!!!"



Hours later, he told me she had given him the curtains.




As I said, we are very much alike, no matter how much we deny it. And I'm not talking about same choice of colours when it comes to curtains. Or same taste in food. Or being born on the same day. Or both being unbelievably stubborn. I'm talking about literally being the same person, but in two separate bodies...

I don't hate you. I never did. And I don't mean half the things I say about you. How could I. Hating you would mean hating myself. And I don't think my ego could handle that.



...



Did I mention I have moved apartments? I went from living in the coolest place in MMU to the place where no person wants to live. Dodgy, the ghetto, people call it. But the way I see it, isolation from MMU? Allah has truly answered my prayers. Thank you Kai Choy and Kat. And thank you Izzat and Su. For all the help, despite my over the top demeanor, lack of masculine strength and argumentative nature.




And to Rathi and Adiba [cherish this moment for eternity, because I'll never ever be this nice ever again, not even on your, and by "your" I mean "my", wedding days], 2 years later, and massive changes everywhere, it's nice to know that we have beaten all odds, and remained together. I love you both, even more than my beauty products.






And people laugh when I tell them I should've taken Creative Multimedia instead of Law? I totally don't get it. Jealous bitches.

Taa, happy hols.

Bubur Kacang Hijau

The horror that was contract law is over. For now.

Countless of hours, a river of ink, a whole tree of paper...

And did it pay off?



In short,




Irshad v. Contract Law II BNL 1624


Court was in favour of the defendant.




It amazes me how many things you can do in three hours.

Watch a decent movie.
Imagine walking on the beach with Kris Allen.
Go back to your hometown.
Imagine you and Kris Allen embracing on your wedding day.
Dance in the Astaka.
Ponder upon Kris Allen's pictures.



Or...



Sit, and stare blankly into the papers in front of you, with a pen in one hand, and the Contracts Act in the other, while thinking to yourself "oh shit, i now this case, I read it like an hour ago, oh shit, oh shit, Yong Enting v something? eh no, Kau Daw what??? or was it Yong Yung Ung Kai??".











Oh well. At least Kris Allen won (Boo you overrated-screeching-raccoon-Adam-Lambert). I hate his (Kris Allen's) bitchy wife. Urgkh, some people have all the luck. She's married to Kris Allen. And I'm a failing first-year law undergrad. Yay me.



Whatev. Imma read some French.


Au revoir. J'aime grands mammelles.

(I think I may have an addiction towards Kris Allen, and I think, it might just be a little too harmful.)

3 Layer Tea

I'm taking a break from the books, though I probably don't deserve it, since I spent the whole day obsessing over Grey's Anatomy's Season 5 finale, screeching "omg george dah mati izzie pon! they actually died!" to anyone who would listen...




I remember my second first day of school as if it was yesterday. I had moved from Batu Pahat, Johor to Sydney, a move that I never really realised as life changing, until I grew much older.

So there I was. Standing in the office of my new primary school, looking at my mother signing all sorts of documents, while fidgeting and biting my finger nails [a habit I have ceased to continue tyvm]. My first impression, Camdenville Public School was a lot different from Sekolah Kebangsaan Temenggung Ibrahim.

I was sent to my classroom by the bubbly office lady, whose name I have sadly forgotten. I was put in Year 1 Purple. As I entered the class, I could feel everyone's eyes glaring at me, almost, burning my skin with the sheer intensity. I was scared, and my eyes began to water immediately. I turned around, looked at my mother, and though I said no word whatsoever, I knew my mother could hear my screams of "mak! alang nak balik malaysia!". Then, Miss Elizabeth gave me a snack-sized Sneakers chocolate bar. And the kids whom I had mere minutes ago feared, came nearer to me with honest smiles. I knew at that exact instance, the years to come would be great.

That day, I went back home feeling happy. Leaving Malaysia did not seem so horrible after all. As I entered my house, I heard the laughter of children coming from across my house. Unbeknownst by them, I peeped through their gate and saw 4 kids. I immediately recognised one of them. She was in my school, and we were in the same year, though not in the same class. Soon, she became my best childhood friend.

Over the next few years, we did everything together. We were more than friends, we were neighbours and almost family in fact. I remember those silly memories, when we would play with teddy bears, for hours at times, and sing out loud the latest Spice Girls, Backstreet Boys or B*Witched tunes. We even built our own "clubhouse" using bedsheets and boxes in the Tafe College across the road.

Years had passed, and the time I had dreaded arrived. Our time in Sydney had come to an end, and Malaysia was calling, forcing us to return. Though I had stopped school a week earlier, I begged my father to allow me to got to the school prom or "disco" as they called it. Julie's sister, Mimi, picked me up from the temporary place I was staying, while waiting for my flight the next day.

At the school prom/disco, I remember my Year 2 teacher, Miss Annette, telling me "when you first came here, I remembered that you were dying to go back to Malaysia, and now, you're literally begging to stay..."

I met Julie for the last time that night. We promised to keep in touch, and be best friends no matter what.

But an ocean away proved too far a distant for us. 2 letters. That was all the contact we had since that night. 2 short, letters...




...





It has been 9 years since I left Sydney. I am glad to say that I have adapted well, though it hasn't been a smooth journey. I have since started a new life. I am a Malay. A Malaysian. And what happened 9 years ago seems like an unrealistic dream, almost fantasy-like.

But you know what, though I'm not a firm believer of miracles or fate, I must say, what happened last year was unbelievable, and nothing short of a [forgive me for being cliche] miracle.

...

I found Julie on Facebook. Yes, I found my best childhood friend on Facebook. And we now keep in touch every now and then.

It's amazing how much she has grown, which made me realise how much I have grown... But it's even more amazing that 9 years after, I actually found her...




Suddenly those dreams seem real after all...



Don't get me wrong...
I'm not being sentimental. I actually do have a point.

I'm not proud of it, but I'll be the first to admit that I do have a tendency of losing friends. Friends who were close to me, and whom I loved.



Though as so it may be, Julie is solid proof, that as easy as it is for me to lose a friend, I can also find him/her back.







I have faith in you. And I have faith in us. You know me, and for me to have "faith" is a, dare I say it, miracle. You're right, it's no one's fault. We just, went in different directions, and lost each other in the process. I miss you. You're my friend, and my family, and of course I love you.


I'll keep searching for you, till God, or whatever force that led me to you...

Guides me back to you.



Good night, Shad.

p/s: Kris Allen, you rock. I love you. Please win.