It sickens me that I know myself so well.
It sickens me that I keep finding out more.
It sickens me when I see other people so clearly.
It sickens me when I figure out how to work it.
It sickens me when I don’t.
It sickens me that I’m so fucking insane.
It sickens me that I’m so fucking sane.
It sickens me to think about my mistakes.
It sickens me when I can’t.
It sickens me that I just don’t know.
It sickens me that I don’t really care.
I’m just sick of it.
It never ceases to amaze me, how things fit together.
If the thought of impending health hazards like EOS have managed to do anything to me, it's been to amaze me that everything about our bodies work in tandem to accomplish the most basic of functions, as far as we're concerned anyway. It's all so spectacularly meticulous, so precise. God must have been one smart dude.
It's fascinating to learn how people work as well. You get a few odd ones who go postal (look muf, i used ur word) on psych models once in a while. Still, while I'd hate to define people by any concrete means, people aren't just faceless enigmas that you strike conversation with for the mere sake of socialising. Evere person is the way they are because of some life changing event, or some pattern of environment. And the deeper you dig, the more you find... usually. Sometimes you just end up with a whole lot of muck you'd have much rather left unearthed... or worse, shitloads of gravel.
And then there's the idea that if you don't get what you think you want, right here and now, things will never work out.
How can you ever tell what you really want most when you've never sampled the rest of the menu?
Perhaps sometimes you want it to get a little sticky instead of playing it too safe?
Musing, waiting for the coffee to wear off..
1. It's better to be underestimated than overestimated. With the latter, you get found out eventually and by the time people have figured you out, they've also figured out how to get around you. With the former, people don't have so much of a guard up and it's easier for you to see through it.
2. I have a bottle of mineral water branded 'Sparkletts'. If I had a vocal group in the 60's, I'd call it the Sparkletts.
3. American Idol #Some insane number or the other just ended with Jordin getting the majority of 72 million votes. Why do more American's care about a 17 year old getting a recording contract than leaving a numbskull in the most powerful chair in the world? But then again, on another note, I can't imagine winning American Idol at the age of 17. Gosh.
4. I'm going to have this gaping hole in me for a while when Snuffles is gone. Sniffle.
Lo, fear not- this post will NOT be a whimsical reflection upon the impossibility of planning for the future. WHo says you can't decide what to do about life? I have!
Plan A
Get married to Dan after I've gone down the list. I'm currently still on A (though I may have gone backwards to the end of the alphabet with a few skips and over-zealous jumps along the way). Since D is not too far down nor is it a top priority, it should take about 5-10 years at least. I've promised him that our kids will learn at least ONE Indian art form but my conditions are that
- they engage in some form of redundancy or the other on a regular basis. If it doesn't come naturally what with the mixed genes and all, I might have to take some measures to ensure the continuity of my species and increase the number of eratic midget blankists in the world. They WILL learn how to turn their brains off. Perhaps the noble art mushroom breeding.
-Of course, they'll need to like green, enjoy books, eat lots of cake and veggies and watch the news after the SImpsons.
I've been given leeway to pu**ywhip and use him to domestic advantage and even to keep my hair as short as I want (the latter might still prove to be a problem I reckon though). Doesn't sound like such a bad deal eh?
Plan B
If Danen doesn't work out and it turns out I still have all the money I don't spend on sending my henchwomen to Hawaii for the bet they are so sure I'l lose (the realisation of plan A- refer above), I shall consider this one.
Mufeedha and I will buy a house in Spain, and live there with ou two pet squirrels: Piggy Moo (mine) and Moochy (hers). We'll hit on younger men and dance into the sunset. I'm liking the sound of Ipanema too though. Oh well, there's always room for a little flexibility.
Plan C
I graduate with a degree in medicine. (I know, I know, how boring can one get?)
I lose my license by leaving my keys somewhere in the operation theatre - somewhere not too fatal. It'll only get discovered as the patient walks through an airport. They'll find me, lock me up and throw away the keys.( Little would they know I could manage that without any help.) I'll drive them all insane by singing the Club Chocolate song since I;ve only ever heard it from Mahes and I don't really know how it goes. anyway Someone will be driven to breaking point and will let me go and I'll go dancing into the sunset too.
I won't get ahead of myself just right now. I"ll see how these three work out for me, or even if I come up with other fool proof plans, I won't blog about them just in case they work for other people who end up happier than me and I really can't have that.
back and forth.
yin & yang
black & white
why? why not?
here?
as if half the world weren't enough as it is
well it isn't really
will sit on it, till someone cracks.
I take the bus back to penang quite often. This means, that I go back home quite often, about once a month or so. Since I'm sure a few eyebrows will be raised at that last sentence, let me say that 1. My mom doens't see why i shouldn't come back- it's just a few hundred km or so away.
2. I would lose what little left of my sanity there is if I didn't since IMU is just too self contained for me- since no one else seems really up for doing anything else outside, I might as well go back home on a regular basis.
Anyway, for all the repugnance people exhibit towards puduraya and it's filthy alleys, macabre characters, uninhibited disregard for global warming pollution and rats the size of elephants (perhaps that allegory was a tad over-expressive) I personally have no qualms whatsoever about getting to or leaving from the place.
For me, it's simply a matter of buying a ticket, jumping on a bus and submitting to the sandman for a couple of hours and then looking forward to my mother's nagging about not being able to call because of a dead phone battery (each and every time I reach Ipoh). It beats having to take a flight- in the end I spend about the same amount of time reaching from point A (vista) to point B (home) anyway.
The part I enjoy most about my monthly bus rides though, although it is too much of me to expect the same such luck every trip, is meeting interesting people. Since I take the evening buses there really is nothing to do once you've gone half the journey and night has taken away any hope of being able to see. When I'm lucky, two hour conversations on life, the universe and everything materialise. Being in the dark, I don't really remember seeing much of their faces- they were just voices appearing out of the dark as I faced the seat in front of me. The people I remember best so far have been an old lady teacher, an elderly chinese mutinational businessman and a young malay freelance photographer. On the few occassions i've had broken down buses and found myself stranded on the north-south i've found people to help colour the journey even more as well.
Of course, there was also this indian software guy who insisted on lecturing me on celibacy for 3 hours before trying to get my number. Go figure.
I doubt I'll ever meet any of them ever again.
It's always nice to meet new people. Maybe it's just me but sometimes talking to someone who doesn't already think they know you reminds you of who you think you are. And you're reminded that there are people out there who have it so much better or worse than you do.
My dad's been trying to get me to fly air asia at least instead. I don't feel like giving up my bus rides yet for hot chicks in nifty red uniforms just yet.
In almost every possible way, I am my mother.
People come up to me at random to ask if I really am who I just could be.
I look like her, sound like her, walk like her.
I'm not her, but I'm rather glad it seems I am.
Growing up, I wanted to be my mother. Now I see she's not just a superhero with a far better fashion sense than the people at marvel, but a person who managed to convince me that things would always be alright because she was that good at it.
Am I going to end up doing the same things, making the same mistakes and revelling in the same right choices?
It's a little unnerving at times.
I love my mom.
I couldn't find glue, so I mad her her card with ribbons and thread. (Yep, if ever you get something from me made with a needle and thread I really do love you that much.)
Thought she might miss ugly hand made cards.
Happy Mother's Day :)
alright so i'm an addict.
me (in my head): oh
me : oh? really? blabber blabber blabber
too much gets acquired in translation
--------------------------------------------------
I'm taking a break from blogging (well that's the idea anyway).
To muf, it's because i've spent too much time on this.. page. What is the point, really?
to mahes, thank you for being the most influential person in my life (*gag... rolls eyes).
To meenu, WELCOME! bad timing though...
in case a certain big guy asks again, i was perfectly fine bald.
I haven't been as of late, (there.) but I'm done with hoping someone's gonna come along and say- have a hug.
And I'm taking a chill pill too.
Au revoir!
I often find myself utterly confused upon waking up from sleep. My dreams seem so real to me that much of the time some serious analysis is required for me to tell reality from reverie.
Then again, I also have some dreams too bizarre to be considered real at all.
1. The one where I'm cleaning my bathroom. So feel as if I do it every other day when the truth is I really haven't done it in a week.
2. The one where I'm a printing machine...er
3. The one where tweety bird's big ugly head is swelling... and then the air from its head flows into its body. this goes on for a while.
4. The one where my teeth start dropping.
5. The one where i'm doing absolutely nothing... this is pretty confusing too. I've tried to convince myself im dreaming when I really am doing nothing too.
...
there'r more but il do them some other time
its absolutely terrible it is. it was rather. must stop buzzing, and really im buzzing way too much these days. every day it starts at about 2pm and goes on for variable lengths of time. when i say buzzing, i mean the sort of agitated jumpy feeling i used to get after too much coffee. and today ayman just went on talking and i think the guys nuts. because if he isn't i must be. no wait, i might be nuts but he really must be. that was almost traumatising having to buzz and feel sleepy and listen and contemplate going for mala maung all at the same time and now i have all this fried rice. so much for not eating.shankari's wearing a green bra strap and sitting in front of me looking at the god of small things. and all this talk about god.if i believed in god id have to believe that god let so much bad happen. then again karma does fit into the picture. but that just seems like something someone came up as a feel good tactic. someone who felt good about life in general anyway. and to think i used to think i'd end up being a monk on a hill. haha. im so screwed for cns, why doesn't it stop. perhaps its psychological. and if you think this looks weird, it really isnt. had this lecture on racing thoughts and i think im subconsciously thinking of it hence the manifestations. and i like typing on hiruni's laptop.
and im alice on msn for a while.
Right, so I've been enlightned as to what a tag is at last.
The rules are pretty simple.
I've beent tagged by David, so now i divulge 6 bits of weird info about myself then find someone else to tag to do the same thing.
Right, so I doodle with blog surfing on my run-away-from-imu-day, only to find myself (surprise surprise!) skimming through more imu-ite blogs. To be fair, i've unearthed hordes of juniors' blogs but I think i'll update my link list later.
Decidedly making a flee attempt from medic rationale and whinging, I tried a 180^ turn and before i knew it, I was knee deep in the smuck of leftie blog archives-owned by young, disgruntled, tech savvy idealists who have things to say and have discovered at least one way of saying them.
Don't get me wrong, just like any other non bumi in this country, my parents are gnawing furiously at my psyche and taking all right turns possible to get me out of this place. Not that all that much effort is needed for the former. I mean, all you really need is a few years of government school education to know that Muthu was a rubber tapper, Chong a tin miner, and Abu a farmer: a nice big integrated happy nation we are. Alright, so the economic segregation along racial lines?- The british took the fall for that. Look how we got past it-
Equality for all! The average Joe has no need to fear now, for mediocrity (and that's me being polite) get's rewarded with killer education opportunities and subtle financial nudges. Perhaps I should mention the fine print: (Not all races need apply).
So we get rid of the colonial bastards, elect our own leaders, and create a constitution to protect the people who got us here. But wait a minute, what do we expect? Rights?
Visit Malaysia 2007- marvel at the brilliancy and creative genius behind the Eye of Malaysia, The technology on which the twin towers stand, and the fact that all Malaysians speak in Malay but the chicks at KFC counters can't understand the menu written in English.
Don't you just love national pride?
People as of late have been trying to convince me to see either side of the coin, none have tried taking a middle stand. Adaptability, the key to survival isn't it? It seems that I've adapted to life here, and perhaps that scares me a little now. That i've taken comfort and familiarity over everything else I'd decided I ought to stand for.
My nation, my home?
I'll readily admit to being confused and undecided.
So much for evolution. I've become an extension of my couch and a bag of junk food is usually an extremity of that. Not that i'm at home all that much really, i'm pretty darn busy in fact. my plasma levels of calcitriol are probably on the low side since i havent seen much of the sun in a bit, and i'd bet an elephant's ass (whoa, my fingers just went crazy david) that you'd find trans fats in my liver and if sweat embolisms were possible, those would probably clog up my systems too.
Can anyone really believe we're three months into 2007?
The past few months have been a drop of water smudged over ballpoint ink for me: fuzzy, weak,... blue.
I gave up on msk (1. i never really started on it although i tried 2. there seems to be an allusion to all the systems here. damn im a nerd) a week before the exam.
Things have been hectic for me, more than anything because i let them be, and soon it was just one monstrosity of a snowball rolling downhill.
It might seem that I have some apologies to make, but I don't think I will.
As for anyone else who feels that the reins are swinging a little wildly, take a breather and things really will look better in the morning.
And to C, and S... thanks for making me feel i was nuts to think i was going nuts. =)
by D.H. Lawrence
Search for nothing any more, nothing
except the truth.
Be very still, and try and get at the truth
And the first question to ask yourself is:
How great a liar am I?
(I know that one should refrain from putting sentences in the passive form, but what the heck.)
Enough notes about me being an orientation office (aka OO) for m107 have been dropped for anyone who has been to this blog within the last month or so.
Well, it's Saturday now and the past week has been bizzarely long and messy.
This post is a tribute to all my baby sc12otums who made it through this week, and to "fellow Scrotum mama's & papas.
They were thrown together in a room on the second day of university and told that the slogan of the week that was to follow read (in no vague language) "How far would you go to survive?".
Sree, as the infiltrator in his role as the nerd from Ulu Yam carrying Davidson's had himself temporarily placed on a few 'most-wanted' lists with his manipulative cmpaigning for the group name SC12OTUM. (We have Hang Li Poh to thank for coming up with it.)
As it turns out the group wasn't the bag of bagels (the analogy seemed cute the first time I read/wrote it) we hoped they wouldn't be.
Aveena, having volunteered herself as group leader did a sensational job. Now that's one wacky momma if ever there was one, an absolutely marvelous sport from the very begnning. The feryact that they had meeting minutes deserves special mention!
The guys, Daniel (HLP), Jon, How-You-Doing-Yap and Dominic are each unforgettable in different ways.
Dominic turned out to be more determined an IMCC than I ever thought possible, and that's a compliment to guts and resolve as far as I'm concerned. He may not have won the crown as catwoman but the ka-chings are still ringing in my ears!
The beautiful girls (and that's not me being sweet) were unbelivable. Diana has one of the most evil laughs iv ever heard but the girl's a sweetheart. Yuan Lih's buns are going to be dancing in my head every time i look at a breadstand. Rachel my peanut is one of the cutest chicks i know. Amy & Prema were remarkable during the treasure hunt- I didn't think they'd make it after first station but i'm ecstatic they proved me wrong. Janice from Nibong Tebal, is quiet but definitely a sport whenit counted. Sin Ying, things worked out fine didnt they? Farina the lovable bit of dung.... (yes, yes, my current state of humor needs tweaking...)
Muf- Shriek! wasn't that bloody awesome?
Shanko, Meenu- We made it!
Thayvern- Wouldn't have been the scrotums if Aberdeen had an earlier school year, Glad to have gotten to know you a little bit better. Thanks ;-)
And to the M107 Orientation Committee- Thanks for giving me the best orientation week so far and for having the substance and style it took to do it.
