Date.

Love the snow in Youtube. Makes every video (especially this one) all fuzzy and warm. 

Snow snow snow!

Clouds.

It's nice to feel belonged, whether you can see the physical shape of the members of a group such as a school band or friends or an Internet community where you can only feel their presence.

I found this in a John Green novel I borrowed from the Sunway University library. Opening the book with this falling out and floating onto my floor makes the whole experience of being a nerdfighter a little more amazing. This gives me a little more hope for the Internet community. The nerdfighter who left this note in the book didn't know the person who will stumble on this note but yet, she (based on her beautiful handwriting I can never achieve) leaves it anyway, hoping to make a fellow nerdfighter's day.

I guess that is what makes an Internet community a little more special. It transcends everything physical; the places we live in, the schools we go to, the food we eat, the Gods we pray to, the clothes we wear, etc. Identity and social status means nothing. All that matters is we share interest in the same things and in this case, we watch Vlogbrothers on Youtube and have the same passion for books, music, philosophy, etc. with John and Hank and are always there for each other, regardless of what or who you are.

Nerdfighteria, to me, felt too surreal to actually exist because this is the same group of people who actually created a well filed with clean water for the people in Haiti. Nerdfighteria helps small entrepreneurs in different continents and countries to expand or simply start a business to sustain theirselves by leading them money through Kiva.org. Nerdfighters come together for a sole purpose of decreasing worldsuck and change lives.

I'm gonna keep this because it is a very special note and I feel as if this was intended to be for me. I'll leave a note for the next nerdfighter and make him or her feel the same way I felt when I saw this note. 

"Although the population of Nerdfighteria is scattered internationally, the citizens have united numerous times to decrease worldsuck through super secret projects, other charitable events, scavenger hunts, video montages, happy dancing, and gatherings."

Urban Dictionary  

Nerdfighteria is a Utopian community that consist of beautiful people and they really are made of awesome.

DFTBA, guys.

Jet.

I love the moustache from my previous post. It makes me look so sexy and irresistible. *smirks* The moustache and I will be taking a walk together under the sun soon, I hope. Would love to see the expressions of random strangers when they see a black patch of fur on my face.

It's been a while since I discussed anything from the Shameless Meme. So, here it is. 

Expose something messy or dirty you’d usually hide.

Well, this is pretty easy because I rarely hide the nitty gritty details if you are brave enough to ask me. Since you asked about it, meme, I shall graciously provide you with the information you desire.

One. I don't wash the clothes I've worn until I've worn it about 4-5 times. That is, if they're not perfumed with my sweat or decorated with streaks of mud or food stains. If I've gone to the mall with friends, the clothes I've worn will not end up in the washing machine but on my chair (because I'm such a lazy ass to fold it or hang it up in my cupboard). This is not as disgusting as it looks because if it still smells like your floral detergent and it has no dirt on it, why wash it? I mean, it would be like washing your blanket everyday because you've used it the night before, which none of us actually do right? What, you do? You weirdo. You should really check your hea- washing machine. It's probably exhausted from washing all the clothes and washable fabrics that don't need washing because you're sucha clean freak. 

Two. Note that I did this during my STPM exam period which lasted for about a month. I don't do this anymore (or do I..? *evil laugh*). I didn't take baths on a daily basis. Okay okay. You may shun me now but whatever. So I didn't take baths everyday okay? Big fucking deal. I took baths 2-3 days once because I needed to study the fuck out of my soul. So I didn't wanna waste twenty minutes of my precious time plus, five extra minutes to dry and comb my long hair (because you gotta have extra TLC when it comes to long hair). So, I just didn't bathe. And even if I did take a bath, I don't wash my hair. Usually on the third day, my hair would be super greasy (you can actually see my hair shine and shit) and I can feel the grease whenever I touch my hair. That's the bell for me to wash my hair. Gosh, the thought of greasy hair reminds me of those awful days. 

Three. The Five-Second Rule. This is some legit shit right here. It has its own Wikipedia page, okay? That is gonna be my answer to everyone who gave me the stink-eye when I eat food that had contact with the floor.

People : Ewww, dude. It's dirty. Don't touch it.
Sue Fyenn : Five-second rule, hello? Go read it up. Wikipedia has an article about it. *picks up food and munches on it* 

So yeah. I do this almost all the time. Of course I don't pick up food off the toilet floor. My food would be soggy, duh. But if the surface is dry and looks clean, then the five-second rule applies. Because I care for the poor and would not like them to be rummaging in my trash for food. That would give them a tummy ache. And that would be bad.

I am a shameless person who publicizes everything on the Internet, including her dirty habits. Damn, I'm good.

Jewels.

I may be a day late but it's the thought that counts, right?

Merry Christmas.

I'm a male reindeer, if you were wondering. 

Quest

I went upstairs to grab my phone but I ended up coming out from my room with a mirror.

So this is where the real reason I'm blogging starts. I have been wanting to go to every shopping mall possible to judge their Christmas decorations. This quest of mine has been silently bugging me since I was sixteen and I can finally say I've done it. So, yay to crossing out 'see every mall's Christmas decorations and decide which is the best' out of my To-do list.

Onwards with the pictures then!

I first started this quest of mine right after my exams. My first shopping mall was AEON Bukit Tinggi. Well, it wasn't that awesome (I expected that) but it wasn't that crappy either (I expected that too). There were branches without leaves with lights hanging on it. What peculiar looking branches they were.

It didn't look thaat bad. Oh, wait. They reused a huge bunny that was seen during Chinese New Year for Christmas. Kudos, AEON Bukit Tinggi for your lack of creativity.

Next, I brought along a friend who was willing to walk around Kuala Lumpur just to look at Christmas decorations with me on Wednesday. We had fun right, Leticia? Right? Oh, don't you roll your eyes at me now! Fun fun fun!

When we got off the monorail at Bukit Bintang, we entered Sungei Wang Plaza. No pictures because it was horrible. The decorations were poor (the Christmas trees looked pathetic) and the entire plaza is so messed up that we couldn't find a door to get us out of there. Shame on you, Sungei Wang Plaza for not having the Christmas spirit. I shun youuu!

We entered Lot 10 but nothing much too. I guess, it's because we couldn't find the main area where a whole Christmas park would be built (maybe it doesn't exist). But it wasn't as bad as Sg. Wang Plaza. At least they were playing Christmas songs and the Christmas trees looked grand.

Next, Fahrenheit 88. Okay, they were pretty good. They had reindeers and a sleigh near the entrance. Leticia and I wanted to jump into the sleigh and take pictures and sing Christmas carols but one creepy looking guard was creeping on us. So, meh. But their gazebo looked mighty nice. There was an eyeless bunny there (what's with bunnies this year?) and Christmas trees surrounding the gazebo. And there were Christmas songs blasting in their speakers so, yay!

Pavilion KL. I LOVE PAVILION KL. One because their Christmas decorations are fucking boss. I remember visiting Pavilion KL back in 2005 or 2006 and their theme was White Christmas. The entire shopping mall was white and crystally and amazing. Huge white Christmas trees were everywhere and fake snow was strewn on the ground. Their decorations are fucking class, I tell you. It's like you've entered into a whole new magical world. This year is no different. I love shopping malls who invest their money in decorations. It makes people like me so happy.

Two because there was a United Buddy Bears exhibition outside Pavilion KL. There were easily 120 bear statues outside Pavilion KL and it looked so damn beautiful. I love it when there are exhibitions like these in Malaysia because the only other time you can see exhibitions like these are through your computer screens.

 

Each bear represents a country in the United Nations. 

United States Of America

Ireland

Next mall : Mid Valley. I always have high expectations for Mid Valley because their decorations are always one of the best I've ever seen. This year though, not so good. It looked pretty boring. I think they were trying to achieve an Alice-In-Wonderland kind of Christmas themed decoration but kinda missed it.

Finally, Sunway Pyramid. I like it. There were fake (obviously) moose hanging around and sleighs for everyone to sit on.

After all that walking and hunting for good decorations, we end up being stranded at the train station for almost an hour. Leticia and I were too tired to be fighting with other women for feet space. Women can be so violent sometimes, when it comes to getting their way. They were pushing and slamming everyone against the walls and doors just to enter the train. It was pretty hilarious to be watching them shouting and cursing in their mother tongue (I don't know what they were saying but it sounded pretty mean) while we were sitting at the chairs. Leticia played Foster The People's Pumped Up Kicks on her phone and I started singing while waiting for the train.

Ahh, I love doing this.

Merry Christmas, y'all. :)

Away.

So, what now? I'm done with my exams and I do not wish to contribute my services to the nation by working. Not yet anyway. After-exam life has been pretty good so far. Camps, catching up with friends, random outings, a guy whom I am really interested in getting to know better (he's real, not some celebrity or musician that I fantasize about), late night snacking and video watching, and just chilling out. People asked me whether I have decided on anything to occupy my nine months break (see: working) but honestly, I have nothing planned out yet. I just want to do the things I've been dying to do for a very long time. Like, learning to swim. I never took it up because I never had the courage and time to do it. I can't swim for nuts and I think I should get prepared for The End in case we all die due to massive tsunamis. At least I will have a small chance of surviving instead of what I have now. Nil.

I've noticed how I am a little more reserved to myself when it's almost the end of the year. I simply wrap myself in a blanket and spend an entire day, just reading and listening to music. I disconnect myself from the outside world by not going on the Internet and sometimes, just switching off my phone. I choose the friends I want to go out with. Just now, I played on the swing alone in the playground while it was drizzling. I don't know why but I guess, December is the month for myself. I become a little more quiet and a little more emo, as people would put it. I would feel really bad for declining meet-ups or hangouts if it was any other month but right now, I don't feel guilty for rejecting friends because I just need to take a break from everything after a year of constantly moving forward.

I'm getting tired and the weather's getting colder. I'm going to retire to my cave now.

Rust.

Events that took place and needs to be blogged about because it is extremely important (like super fucking duper important) :

1) FTP's Don't Stop video is out (fi-fucking-nally!)

Hilarious video. I laughed so hard upon the first viewing. I laughed even harder upon second viewing.

And that's how my ovaries reacted when I saw that video because of its extremely high dosage of ridonkulousness. And purtyness.

2) I dreamed a chicken was on my face. And it pooped on me.

A very self-explanatory title that requires no description.

3) Last episode of Merlin Season 3 is finally here!

I can't wait to watch Prince Arthur get all broken and Merlin, like any other loving wifemanservant will help him restore his faith and aid in shaping his destiny.

Off topic :

Why are bromances so much more fun to watch? Sisterhood is so meh. I love bromances so darn much. I guess, it's because you get to see men at their weakest and fellow dudes will back him up when the female species can't empathise. Bromances are beautiful because a fellow dude just needs to be there to show support and they just..get it while sisterhood is all like, 'The bitch is going dowwnnnn! We are gonna make her regret for being born as a female."

Come to think about it, how are these even considered important? I should really set my priorities straight. Just seven more days until I can prioritise whatever shit I want whooo!

Cop.

There are so many moustaches this week. Aaaaahhh.

"Hey there, ladies. I'm Hank Green. I have a moustache."

I'm so happy! :D

Procreate.

Oh, look who decided to pop out of no where.

Hello, pimple that has chosen a very strategic place for its presence to be known; that is on the tip of my nose. You're making me look like that reindeer that is always teased by the other cooler reindeers. But no, I shall look up with pride! You will not bring me down. People might laugh and poke fun at me with you around but no more! And besides, just in time for Christmas, eh? I don't need to look for red noses to disguise myself as a reindeer this year.

________

I've always thought of myself to be an impulsive person. No, I'm not flattering myself since impulsiveness is not really a trait you should be proud. But you should be. Proud, I mean. Not impulsive. Wait..no, you should be proud that you're impulsive if you are impulsive. If you're not, then you should be. Impulsive, I mean.

Oh, gosh. I'm flattering myself now.

There is a very fine line between impulsiveness and spontaneity. I like to believe that I'm a little bit of both; like how I'm on that fine line and I can take a step to both sides anytime I want. Because I'm a brat like that. I don't get why people tend to view impulsiveness as a negative thing. Actually, I don't know what is that one factor that distinguishes between those two. People say being spontaneous is good while impulsive is all 'you have problems, dude'. But if you look up the definition, they're actually pretty much the same thing.

Gahh, I don't know where I'm going with this. I'll continue this post with sponpulsive because I can't decide if I'm impulsive or spontaneous now. I thought I was impulsive, then spontaneous. So, I'll be both. Tadaa.

I like buying CDs without much thought of the price. If I like a certain dress or bagpack, I will buy it. Because there's always a nagging thought that if I go there the next time to buy that CD/dress/bag/whatever, it will not be there anymore. Okay, you might be going, 'Ooh, this is impulsive'. Whatever. But, I remember that one time when I saw a CD and considered the price and then, decided not to buy it. On the way home, I felt like shit. It was such an uncomfortable ride home that I couldn't sit still because of that nagging thought haunting my mind. And yes, it ended up not being there the next time I visited. From that day, I told myself that if I see anything I like or want, I'll get it. No matter what the cost (of course I'm talking about a reasonable purchase. Because I won't go into Louis Vuitton and stomp my feet and say I want that RM5980239870 bag) is. Because to be feeling crappy and having mental battles is no fun. I've been there and I hate it.

But the thing is that despite people calling this as impulsive shopping, it's not. I like to believe that it's sponpulsive shopping. Yes, it is probably an impulsive purchase but I don't regret buying it later. I don't go telling myself what an idiot I was to buy a toy camera (which I did) that needs actual rolls of film because it felt right at that moment. Instead, I feel happy and good about it. Like how you would feel after doing something spontaneous with friends. For example, poking a stranger and running away. What I'm trying to say is that it's basically impulsive behaviour with spontaneous aftereffects. Sponpulsive!

However, I'm a little worried about how far I can go on with this. Sponpulsive shopping is one thing. What if I've done something permanent out of sponpulsiveness but regretting it later? I would totally cry a fucking river kay? Because that miserable feeling with forever be with me. Because I've done something permanent out of sponpulsiveness. Gah, why am I rephrasing whatever I've just said?

But yeah, I'm planning to do something permanent. But so many doubts in my head. Oh, wait. Is this premeditated sponpulsiveness? Because I've been considering and planning before going all sponpulsive? Premeditated sponpulsiveness. What a fucking oxymoron.

Why am I badgering myself with these concerns that have no benefits to me at the moment? I need to study. Gaaaahhh.

Loss.

R.I.P., moustaches that has made a comfortable home on the upper lips of Foster The People. Can we all have a moment of silence here in honour of these glorious looking moutaches that has been with the boys for a month? Moustaches, you have brought happiness to the boys and joy to the FTP fandom. It has been a wonderful journey, moutaches but it's December now. I will remember those memories when you made me laugh my ass off whenever I see the boys' smiles with you residing happily on their faces. But, the time has finally come for us to part ways.

Guys, you have fostered those moustaches well. You should be proud of yourselves.

I have a sad now. Be right back while I mourn over the loss of these magnificent moustaches with tears trailing along my face, making my fake moustache damp and soggy.

_______________________

//Breaking News

Pontius has decided to keep his mo' until after Christmas.

I AM A HAPPY GIRL LALALALALA.

New.

I know I'm supposed to be asleep now but the Internet beckoned with open arms. And when it does, you answer it.

Ya'll hear me?

You know what totally shocked the shit out of my pants yesterday? When I found out it was a Wednesday. I thought it was a Tuesday whut. I almost had a heart attack because it's a day lesser from my other History paper.

And we all know you should never mess with History.

I should look at the calender more often now. No more stalking Mark "Cockblocker" Foster because he's totally messing with my mojo.

Also, wearing pads during my menstrual cycle reminds me of my diaper days. Not that I actually remember those warm occasions where I strut in a diaper but wearing a pad kinda gives me the non-existent memories of those diaper days. As if that makes any sense. Like, when I wear a pad and I walk around the house at 2:30am, that plasticky-pad-rubbing-against-your-skin sound is very loud since there's nothing else turned on but the fan and me.

Whoops.

But anyway, I bet half of you don't know how the sound of a pad against the skin is like. Well, imagine a baby with diapers on and it's running around the house. Can you hear that diaper? Yeah, that sound.

GAAAHHHH so much rage! Why does it have to make such sounds? It reminds me of babies. And I'm not fond of babies (as seen by the usage of 'it' *points up* as a pronoun because babies look asexual when they're born).

I am so mad that it makes me want to flip over a basket full of fruits. GUHHH.

Such irritating noises should not exist.

Say.

I tend to have interactions with myself. Most of the time, I talk to myself. This morning, I was telling myself how the water is so cold and I don't want to take a cold bath. And I started to rationalise with myself on how I have no time for these petty problems and told my hands to just pour cold water over my head. Then, I answered back, "The water is so darn cold and it's making my muscles ache. Aaahhh." Then - well, you probably get the picture. It was a two way conversation with myself in the bathroom, with a water scooper filled with cold water in my hand.

And then I started to giggle in the bathroom.

I know people talk to themselves in their minds most of the time but I like to verbalise the conversation in my head. Like, how I tell myself, "Dude, chill. Read the questions. It's not rocket science. You can do this because you've studied. Think, woman. Think!" in the exam hall. Then, I will look to my sides to check if anyone heard me. I feel secure and better when I talk to myself because when I can hear myself comforting myself, it feels real. I like it when I have myself to back me up, especially during the worst times. Because you will stop at nothing to help yourself to get through.

You are your best cheerleader, support group, motivator and friend.

It is never a one sided point of view because when I talk to myself, two sides of me (sometimes three) will start debating and we will finally decide on the best option. I sound like I have multiple personalities or something. I do (I think everyone does) and it's not a disorder (hopefully). I think it's not a disorder as long it's good for you.

I'm reminding myself that Merlin is about to start and some Prince Arthur viewing is always good for the mind and soul.

P.S. December is just a day away. Christmas warmth, come to me!

Jaw.

After that dreadfully miserable post, I can say that I am okay right now. Music and friends are helping me to cope with my rollercoastery emotions during this exam period. Foster The People has been a great source of comfort. Their music, the members, the videos of them. I don't actually know how many times Torches has been played on both my CD player and iPod but it is safe to say that I am not bored of the songs (or them) and it gives me a sense of calmness and inner happiness. After my first paper on Monday, I jumped into my dad's car without a second glance at the people who were discussing the paper and listened to FTP. I don't know how or what their music contains that just makes me feel like, 'Yeah, I am alright. Everything will be okay'.

I studied until about 4am this morning, slept at 5am-ish and woke up at about 7.30am. And the best part is that everything is going to be okay. So what if I have a paper later? Everything will work out just fine.

Getaway.

I'm typing as I feel. No plannings, no edits.

I need some time out. I want to escape from living a mundane life and just, go somewhere unknown for a while. Life that it is right now, it doesn't give me the sense of satisfaction anymore. I feel burdened. I feel pressured to do something that I do not wish to do. This is not the exam-pressured side talking. This is the tired, exhausted and frustrated side talking.

Frankly speaking, I am just really tired of studying. I am tired of being a student. It's not that I have been studying my ass off. I don't even have the motivation to push myself to study, even now. The day before the exam. It feels like any other ordinary Sunday. A day to put a pause on the life I have, wrap myself in blankets and read a book with soothing Scandinavian music softly playing on my radio. I have never felt so uninterested in an exam, especially an exam this important. My parents told me, "This is the most important exam in your life" and all I did was shrug and continued to look out of the window of a moving car. Perhaps, my parents interpreted my silence as nervousness or worry. But I am not. I am not nervous or worried. I am just feeling unsatisfied as a human being. I hate living a life that traps me. I hate living a life that is a repeated routine of yesterdays.

I went to the playground to temporarily get rid of burdened emotions. I sat on a swing for a very long time and swung in a constant velocity and momentum. Not too high, not too slow. And with music in my ears, I simply took in the nature and the surroundings. I felt my shoulders relaxing. I started to give out heavy sighs and it feels as though negative emotions are seeping out of my body. The wind in my face felt familiar. Like that time when I was a kid. The feeling of floating in the air as I closed my eyes to the world and just feel my body being lifted up from the ground. I was happy. I smiled and laughed to myself while swinging with other children. When my feet touched the ground again, I felt miserable again. I hate gravity for having my feet fixed on the ground.

I hate it.

You would be thinking to yourself now, 'She's making excuses now so that when she gets crappy results later, she won't blame herself for not studying. She can blame it on the world'. I won't try to change your mind. I won't say you don't understand what I am currently going through because I am different, yadda, yadda. But this year has been the one of the worst years of my life. I thought I have grown out of apathy and have began to experience life the way it should be experienced but clearly, it has not really gone away. I am still unstable. I feel huge amounts of happiness and glee when I am happy. I put myself in the darkest pits and numb myself when I am unhappy.

Perhaps I am a little bipolar. I should get it checked.

But if I really could, I wouldn't mind jumping on board some random bus, tour with artistes and be their water girl or their shoe lacer. I just need to get out of this kind of life. Just for a while.

I don't know how people in their fifties, or even in their twenties can continue living a life that is confined by the four walls of their houses, offices, halls, and classrooms. I don't know how I'm going to live a life like that when I am older.

I should get going. I am not going to do the exams for the sake of just finishing it. I am going in the hall and give all I have in every single paper. Because that is only fair for my parents who have also sacrificed a lot for me to reach this point. I'm doing this for them now. No longer for myself.

Point.

I just need to express my gratitude to Foster The People for deciding to tour around this region where huge bands usually ignore. It is rare for a band to be coming down while I'm still high on their album. Thank you for not abandoning your fans of this region.

I'm trying to sound as calm as possible. Because I don't think screaming at people with excessive usage of caps lock and exclamation marks will create a good image to my professional self. Because I'm a calm and composed fan.

So, my progress with the challenge has been good so far. I've been studying. I've studied a lot more in these two days than I have been studying in the past month. And that, deserves a round of applause from the blogosphere. *bows* Thank you, thank you.

So, I should continue with my challenge. I need to fuck STPM in the ass and to do that, I need enough knowledge. And very good crapping skills. Because that is how I've been getting out of trouble. And of course, this situation is no different. I am going to extricate myself from this shitty condition with my almost-perfect crapping skills. And still ace it.

AAAAHHHHHH THEY ARE COMING I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST I LOVE YOU ALL TWO MARKS, A CUBBIE, AN ISOM AND A SEAN :D

*clears throat* Sorry about that. I tried to resist.

One.

Okay, this is my plan. I am going to do something that many will never dare to do and wave it away as insanity.

I am going to take up the challenge of finishing a year's worth of education in one week. And I am going to be excellent and golden during exams. And get badass results to prove to others that it is possible to study last minute for STPM and still ace like a boss.

Believe it or not, I am still calm and unfazed over the fact that STPM is in a week. 7 days. Something must be blocking my pituitary gland from triggering my body to release the hormones that are essential for the 'WTF Exams AHHHHH I'm gonna shit in my pants AHHHH' reaction. Which is, the most important aspect for me to be a master in digesting facts at one glance.

So, I need something to get my brain gears moving. And telling myself that I need to get perfect results to enter the course I want at the university of my choice has not been (and I doubt it will) working. Thus, the birth of this challenge where I study last minute, have pretty alphabets on my results slip and BOAST ABOUT IT HAHAHAHA. I know I am giving out proud-asshole vibes but forgive me. I am usually a nice person.

I just need to prove the theory I have been suspecting all along; that is Malaysian major exams are pwnable with last minute studying. And so far, I have been right. This shall be my last experiment to prove that my theory is actually valid.

Time to create history, baby.

Unveil.

There's always a rainbow in places you least expect.

I don't want the world to be less awesome because I'm gone. I want the world to be awesomer because I was here.

Dice.

I'm not sure if my dad is a really weird guy or a pure genius. He was playing with Dot and he randomly blurted, "We should make Dot the smartest cat in the world. We should get Dot to sit for the SPM exam. She doesn't need to pass. She just needs to sit for it. And we'll be the world's first family with a cat that has taken an exam." At that time, I was already choking on the food in my mouth. And he continued, "Cats have their own rights too. She's a Malaysian cat and have all the rights just like any other Malaysian. She has a Malaysian father and a Malaysian mother. And was born and still lives in Malaysia. She just needs to apply for a birth certificate and we can register her to sit for the SPM exam."

Maybe it sounds silly to many but I actually think he makes sense. There is nothing in the Constitution that forbids animals from obtaining birth certificates or identity cards. The Constitution only states the requirements one needs before applying to be a Malaysian citizen and it did not state that this only applies to human beings.

I gotta ask my General Studies teacher about this because this is too funny, especially when it's from my dad.

Green.

I saw this guy in McDonald's lip syncing to a song while I was walking to the toilet. He was being all dramatic during the high pitched part of the song. Others around him were pretending not to notice but when I saw him, sitting by the window and doing weird gestures, I laughed to myself. And he saw me. He saw me laughing at him. And we made eye contact. I gave a quick smile. After peeing, I came out of the toilet and I saw him, looking at me. And when I walked back to my seat, I had a feeling that he was watching me walk away.

Too bad he didn't come over to my table and initiate a conversation. It would be a nice way to get to know someone new.

P.S. I have finally come to accept that Mark Foster is not a blonde. Many apologies, Mark.

Nickel.

Before I start anything, imagine this scene. It's like those English cottages with a fireplace at the corner of the room. There are like, hundreds of books on the shelves behind me and a cat is curled up on the mat by my feet. I'm sitting comfortably on a leather chair, too engrossed with my hard cover book that has like 4342 pages. And you slowly walk towards me.

Okay?

Oh my, hello there! I didn't know you were here, in my private space that should only be for me. Thank goodness you didn't enter my imagination while I was thinking about Mark Foster and the many things I plan to do when I meet him. It doesn't involve much fabric between us, if you would like to know. But of course, you're not here to find out about those nitty gritty details.

Welcome to my humble abode that is my imagination. As you can see, it is not spacious because it occupies only one person (me) most of the time and occasionally, another person (usually Mark Foster) but he rarely comes here. He's mostly in the other room. Trying to find his clothes.

*clears throat*

As I was saying, it's such a surprise to find you here. You are one of the few who managed to enter this part of my imagination and since you're here, let me give you a quick tour to the other parts or rooms, as I call them. What, you're not interested in looking at the other sections of my imagination? I can assure you that it will be a very interesting tour because this is a pretty cool place to be in. It's mostly active during the day but it's not that boring at night either. Oh, you're sure you won't want to look around? Well, okay then. I was just about to show you the room where I store happy memories.

So, what can I do for you? Care for some hot cocoa? It's getting cold outside, just like what the weatherman said. Oh, so you are here because you're bored? Well, let me help you to continue procrastinating from the things you are suppose to be attending to. We can start playing Monopoly if you like but...*looks around*...I can't seem to remember which shelf I left the Monopoly on. Meh. No Monopoly then. I could entertain you with the stories I have.

So, November is here. I'm not exactly worried about the serious condition I'm suffering from; that is the lack of time and knowledge in my brain to face an exam that is in just 15 days. It feels like any other assessment test and we all know how we shade all four options on our answer sheets just for kicks during assessment tests. Mark! Where are your clothes? Can't you see we have a visitor here? Go put on some clothes and come back here to have some hot cocoa and some marshmallows. Where was I again? Okay, so yeah. Not feeling any tension at all. I remember the time when I was already shitting bricks in my pants a month before PMR and three months before SPM. But now, not a single brick. I'm not sure if I should be happy that I'm not suffering from a serious case of constipation or be terrified as fuck that I'm still as chilled as a cool cat.

OH MY GOSH, MARK. WHY AM I SMELLING SMOKE? YOU ARE GOING TO BURN THE HOUSE DOWN. Excuse me while I save the other room from burning down. But you can stay here and enjoy the hot cocoa if you like. There are some marshmallows near the fireplace. Don't be shy and all that shit. Also, stay out of that room with the red door because that's where I store most of my horny stuff. So uhhhh, yeah.

MARK FOSTER Where are you! I'm coming!

Dainty.

It's Blonde Post Day, ladies and gentlemen. Be warned, this post is fueled completely by hormones.

Blonde No.1 - Eric Christian Olsen

I'm not usually that kind of person who giggles over some cute guy on TV. Because well, there are many cute, topless guys on TV (See : 90210, teen-drama-series-with-lots-of-sex-and-booze) but I think it was destiny that brought him to me. I don't watch NCIS : Los Angeles because I don't think it's a show that is worth investing my time in. But it so happens that I was bored (yeah, isn't that always the case when you meet cute guys on TV?) and I saw him on TV. I saw him and he instantly grabbed my attention with his flirty smile and floppy hair. And his sense of humour. And he was carrying a gun (don't I just love men with guns?). While wearing some shirt that was totally made to make him body look so damn yum. So, mind you. He wasn't naked or by any beach doing that Baywatch slow mo run. He was an agent, saving the world while flirting with women and his partner with a really hot shirt on and gun by his side. And also, being very funny.

But that's not it. After that episode, I watched a movie on Diva Universal and guess who was the hot nephew who's a total flirt, sells cars like he's giving you his love, hilarious and has floppy hair? And I was like, 'Oh my gosh, hot blonde guy. I don't know what's your name but unggg, so hot'. Of course I watched the movie til the very last bit when he finally wins his true love and eats popcorn with Parmesan cheese with her. Isn't he eccentric? Parmesan cheese with popcorn. Okay, so it's his character but whatever. Still, he portrayed his character so damn bloody well that I told myself to send some gooey cheesed popcorn to him.

OH MY GOSH. How can I leave out the most important detail? He has the most amazing facial hair. Facial hair that is so amazing that I could just imagine him rubbing his face full of that sexy stubbles on my bod - uhm, yeah. He has incredible facial hair.

LOOK AT THE FACIAL HAIR UNG.

So, gooey popcorn. Is that it, you might ask? Of course not! I watched The Thing just now and again, guess who is the hot assistant to some douchey professor? C'mon, it's not that hard to guess. Okay, it's the hot blonde guy who I still don't have a clue what his name is. And I was in the cinema just staring at him wearing hot clothes (Fur coat and lots of thick sweaters. What did you think I was talking about?) and decided that this is destiny's work in progress.

And then I learned of his name. Eric Christian Olsen. Ung.

DESTINY. He is mine, bitchez.

Blonde No.2 - Mark Foster

Okay, firstly. He is a dirty blonde. He is. He might look like he has brown hair but he is a dirtay blonde. And I meant it both ways. Because I always imagine him doing dirty things to me with his lips and facial hair. Uhm, what?

I've heard Foster The People's album and I didn't like it at first but it's getting to me now. Just like how you need time to brew tea, listening to Foster The People and MGMT needs some brewing time. And they sound pwoah in the album and they are pwoah-er live.

I love this video because they sound so fucking badass here and also, hate this video for having an abrupt end.

Mark Foster. Looks so good with wet t-shirts. And wet hair. He makes my ovaries do a little jump whenever I see him all soaked in sweat. He needs to get wet and sweaty all the fucking time. Because he is bringing happiness to the world. And when the world is happy, there is no war. Mark Foster in a sweat soaked t-shirt has the potential to stop wars. See where this is going? I'm advocating peace in an unconventional manner. And Mark Foster needs to be my poster boy. With sweaty t-shirts. And hot shades. To protect his eyes from all the sun that is making him sweat that much, duh.

So hot. Ung. I want to see Mark Foster live. With Foster The People too. What, do I look like those kind of fan who would pay to look at hot, sweaty frontmen and not give two fucks about the music? My motto is always music first, hot members second. Always.

But Mark Foster. *grabby hands*

Indeed, I will.

Quaint.

Spontaneity. It keeps life interesting and fun.

Like, when I decided to cut a fringe for myself last night.

You know when you reached that point when you have read enough of the Islamic wars and you just want some time out. And when blasting music while playing dress up in the room is not satisfying anymore, you pull out a pair of scissors and you start cutting off some hair.

Thus, I have documented this fantabulous event for everyone.

Picture No.1. The Before picture. Notice the face with no hair distracting my sight. Oh my, look at how much my skin has grown fairer. With the help of nothing, of course. My skin is such a magical thing.

Picture No.2. Wait, should I be giving a tutorial of the right way to chop off some hair? Onwards then! You must gather the fringe part of your hair that no longer resembles a fringe. You are adviced to use a comb to gather the fringe so you won't accidentally cut off sections of your hair that is not the fringe. Because cutting off sections of your hair that is not your fringe may result in regret, which you do not want to feel after your moments of spontaneity. That is a horrible emotion to feel.

Picture No.3. Use a scissors. And cut some hair off. The longer, the better. Look at me, posing with my hair that is not attached to my head like a trophy. It is your trophy. For being so darn awesome and having so much guts to cut your hair without a professional hairdresser by your side.

Picture No.4. The After picture. Look, ma! I has fringe to poke my eyes whenever the wind blows into mai face! Now imagine this picture with fireworks as the background. There were fireworks, because of Deepavali. See, even the people outside are proud of my achievement. I should've switched on my Christmas lights as an added element of yay!ness.

Now I have a fringe yay!

Stay dandy people!

Insight.

This happened when I played Pokemon FireRed on my phone. A corrupted file of the Pokemon FireRed. I didn't dare to go further. Because I'm a chicken for worrying that my phone might explode or something, okay? But it was pretty funny when I first saw it. Until people warned me that it might be filled with viruses. That's when I stopped laughing.

Also, how the fuck am I to study with a weather that is not meant to be wasted by studying? I am waking up everyday, worrying that November is getting closer. November, stay the fuck away from me please!

I want to type more but my fingers are moving awkwardly from the cold weather.

Special Occasion, y'all.

Dear Vanessa,

You know what day it is. I know what day it is. I think the Facebook community also knows what day it is. But I shall come back to that later. Because I'm sucha tease.

How long have we actually known each other? Two years? Jyeah, two years and it was all because of that Matt Bellamy singing 'Fucking Fucking Fucking Fucking Little Fucking Fucking Little Fucking Fucking Fucking Fuckers Jyeah' video. We should thank Muse for bringing us together after years of being in school but not quite knowing each other. Thank you, Muse for uniting fans from different computer chairs. Here's a piece of cheese for all the hard work.

I digress. So. Two years. It feels like I've known you since I was in diapers or something. Two years must've passed really slowly for some reason. Must be the sign of the Apocalypse. Oh, speaking of Apocalypse, Supernatural. Dean Winchester. Castiel. Sam Winchester. Yes? Yes? Yes. You made me love something that not only I can't grasp, but something that requires me to download from virtual space and use a pointer to feel the files. You made me love a show. I don't usually put all my effort in TV series. Music, yes. TV shows, not so much. Because shows need a lot of commitment and loyalty. Shows need you to sacrifice 8GB worth of Internet when I have a quota of 20GB. Shows require lots of patience and I don't have that much to spare. But yet, you got me so into the show that I actually dreamed of Dean Winchester trying to break into a barn house (I don't remember what I was doing but I bet I was a great help to Dean).

You've been an awesome buddy. A buddy of all sorts. A gig buddy. Remember that time when we ran a marathon to get money from the ATM and then realise that it's not a Sigur Ros CD? Good times, those are. An Internet buddy. Remember that time when you flood my inbox with emails of music and your obsession over Timothy Olyphant's sexy style of walking? Oh, that is all the time. *snorts* A listening buddy. Remember when I needed cheering up? And that time when you wanted to smack a certain someone who couldn't type proper English because it pisses you off? TV buddy. Remember the Royal Wedding? Remember how delectable Prince Harry was? And Rugby. All those time we were hanging onto our phones to text each other when one of us decides on Hot Man of The Match (Sonny Bill Williams is always in the top 3). And those tries. And blood. Music buddy. All those times when you expose me to new and good music. And your attempts to make me fall in deep love for folky music. And of course, a buddy buddy. Because we're buddies!

Here comes the cheesy part. Get it? Cheese? *points up* Cheesy? No? No? Okay.

All those years (2 years), we've gotten really close (really close). So close that we decide to share men (Misha Collins, James Franco, etc), music (Muse, Arctic Monkeys, etc) and stories (your supernatural stories, my bad breakup phase, etc). It's nice having a friend that I can talk to about anything and everything. And I love how you always give me something to anticipate by posting links on my FB wall or email me with stuff (I still have your OMG DAMON SALVATORE email in my inbox). You helped me in so many ways. Like, when I can't find download links. Or when I needed to tell scream to someone about how hot Joseph Gordon-Levitt is and how he needs to fly down here and hide in my cupboard with the littlest clothes possible. Or when I needed someone to criticise my essay writing skills. Or when I needed someone to give me a mature advice about everything. Or when I needed someone to talk about life and philosophies and religion and hot men and the Apocalypse.

So, you know what day it is. And I know what day it is.

Happy Birthday, dude. Happy 21st birthday. I shall be joining the twenties group with you next year. I will give you a physical gift when I am old enough to purchase things online with credit or debit cards. *hints* But for now, please accept this virtual gift. I wanted to make a mixtape for you but I'm guessing that whatever I've heard is something that you have already heard so it just beats the purpose of a mixtape. So, sorry for the lack of creativity for presenting you with an open letter. I sayang you a lot and many more years of friendship, I hope! Stay awesome forever and look our for hot men for the both of us, kays?

Here's Sonny Bill Williams looking hot with his tattooed arm and Dan Carter looking all bossy in a suit, being happy for your birthday. Oh, you guys. You need to come down here! You have loyal and horny fans waiting for both your asses!

Happy Birthday, Vanessa Lourdes Pereira. Hugs, kisses, and confetti yay!

With lots of love and mwah mwah,

Sue

Higher.

Sticking Post-Its with quotes and lyrics on my cupboard.

Because I needed to find a way to procrastinate.

Hill.

You will never find love until you mature and grow out of your ridiculous, childish self.

You might be enjoying the sensations of falling in love now but soon, you will wake up and you will run away from it. Because you have not dealt with your screwed up self and you will just continue to hurt the people who gets involved with you until you realise that you are the cause of the downfall of the relationships you have had (or tried to have).

Jealous? Perhaps I am, perhaps I'm not. But that doesn't make my words any less true.

Back.

2-in-1 goodness. Rainbow ice cream and potato chips.

It's tasty. The soft ice cream and the crispiness of the chips. Everyone should taste this at least once in their lives.

Okay. I can strike off the 'eat whatever I fucking want' point off the Shameless List.

Happy Monsoon Season everyone!

Ride.

Things that I have come to adore in the past few days (or weeks, whatever):-

1) RUG-fucking-BY

The greatest sport that has ever graced Astro Channel 816. The most badass sport that reminds me of the Romans being all gladiator and shit at each other and become all beer buddies after the game. LOVE IT. Also, because there are hot men running around in tights with blood on their sleeves. Such badasses. I like.

2) Teachers who are open about everything and anything

I asked my teachers today about their experience of delivering a baby/babies. They told me about how painful it is and how most women will end up with a stitched vagina because the doctor will slit the opening to ease the baby out. Okay. Firstly, someone is going to cut your vagina with a scissors or a scalpel so that a watermelon sized head can go through a hole the size of a lime. Secondly, stitched vagina. HOLY SHIT WHUT. *crosses legs tightly*

3) Younger guys

I have come to realise that younger guys are much hotter than guys my age. They wear hot clothes, have hot hair and hot hands, and use sexy smelling cologne. I was walking behind a younger guy in tuition and dude, he is hot. I need to find a hot younger guy. That won't be hard, judging by the fact that they are in abundance. In tuition, at least.

4) Pineapple jam tarts

The aunty who sells these sinful things has never tasted her own tarts because I've never seen her smiling. She needs some tarts shoved into her hole. Her mouth. I meant her mouth.

Things I don't adore:-

1) Stitched vagina

I am not going to have a baby. I am not going to force a basketball though a golf ball-sized hole. I AM NOT GOING TO MUTILATE MYSELF FOR A CRYING, POOPING MACHINE. Can someone tell me how is this legal? I love my vagina and I do not wish for it to be sliced vertically.

2) Tuesday

I want it to be a Friday like now because I want to watch rugby gahhhh! Doesn't anyone understand that it needs to be Friday now? Anyone?

Crickets.

There's one thing I truly miss when I was in secondary school.

Passing notes.

Exam times are usually the time when I unleash my sneaky fingers skill. I would write the question number on a paper, fold it into a minute sized origami and pass it to a friend, usually a smarter friend who is kind enough to share answers. I would have an equal share of scrunched up papers coming my way too and I was never stingy with my answers.

I remember that one time when everyone in my class were furiously passing notes to each other during exam. I think the new substitute teacher noticed our master plan and someone (I wish I knew who it was) threw a ball of empty paper into the air. The teacher approached the person and opened the paper and she was a little disappointed because it was empty. The whole class giggled. Then, another paper ball flew into the air. Then another. The next scene is so epic that it is forever seared in my memory. Everyone, and I mean everyone started throwing paper balls into the air. It was like a confetti party in class. The teacher was so shocked that she just stood fixed at her spot, glaring at everyone. And we were laughing, picking up the papers on the floor and continued throwing papers into the air.

That was one of the best days of my school life. For once, the class felt like a unit. We felt like we were in this together. The teacher can't possibly report all of us to the principal, that's why we were daring enough to do it. The teacher screamed for us to stop but we didn't. And she walked out of class to get another teacher's help to diffuse the excitement we had.

Ah, the good ol'days.

______

This is the next Amy Winehouse, ladies and gentlemen.

View.

I have stretch marks.

I was ashamed of them once upon a time. Like any insecure teenager, I wanted it to go away. It was so red and visible to everyone. It looked so ugly. Undesirable. I would go to my family doctor and ask him for stretch marks removal cream. I would religiously apply it on my stretch marks but it never went away.

I was looking at my body just now. Observing myself with a mirror. I took off my clothes and I stood in front of a mirror. Stretch marks, birth marks, moles, scars; I had all of them. I might've hated my body if it was the 16 year old me, staring back at me through the mirror. But I'm not 16 anymore. I'm not that teenager anymore.

I love how my body looks. I love all its imperfections. The moles on my body. The stretch marks on my thighs and butt. Scars from the sad and happy times. Birth marks that have been with me since my first intake of air. Uneven skin colour. The shape of my breasts. The knobby knees. My small butt. The shape of my hips. My barely-there-but-there tummy. The curve of my body. My forever messy hair. Dimples. Uneven eyes. My weird looking toes.

I am free. From my own judgements against myself.

Vent.

Today I punched a guy. For continuously talking dirty and giving suggestive looks.

Actually, I'm fine with these kind of things but he took it to the next fucking level today. It annoyed me and I felt harassed. So I punched him. But I hit his watch.

His fucking watch that is like, 95% metal. 5% glass, of course.

I ended up bruising my hand. Like, a really bad bruise. And he came out from the war, clean and unharmed. No blood gushing from any part of his body whatsoever. Really, just shittastic.

What fuckery is this, reality.

Repeat.

People die two different kinds of death; the physical one where the soul leaves the body and the emotional and mental one where memories of that person slowly decays in your mind.

Physical death, I can handle. It's the end of a person's sufferings and joyful experiences on Earth. The soul leaves the body and the body becomes an empty vessel, yadda, yadda.

It's the lost of memories that I hate the most. Death in mind does not apply to only people who have passed away but also to friends you stopped talking to due to circumstances and the people who came and left but were significant to you at that time.

It's not that you want to forget. You would try very hard to hold on to the memories. You can imagine the smell of the baked cookies and feel how hot the weather was on that day when you reminisce about a person. You can feel the emotions attached to that particular memory. You can remember every tiny details of that memory; how the chair was positioned, the clothes you were wearing, the colour of the sky, the sounds of laughter shared, the smiles, how frizzy your hair was, the feeling of the afternoon breeze on your skin. You would want the person to live forever in your mind.

Yet, slowly but surely, the memories will start to lose its brilliant colours. The memories you have will become duller as time goes by. First, you will start forgetting the minute details. Was there a bird in the tree? What was the colour of the pencil I borrowed her? Then, emotional attachment. You don't cry anymore when you see something that reminds yourself of your grandmother. You stopped feeling happy when you reminisce about the fun you had with your childhood friend. Then, the memories will just run in your mind like a film in the early 1900's; silent moving picture shows. Finally, you just forget. And the person dies. Again.

Maybe not again. Maybe you lost contact with a friend, then you found out that he suffered from lung cancer and he dies. So, he actually died three times. Just like that.

Everything dies. It is a cycle of life. People die, memories die.

Just like that.

Eyes.

You know what gets me flinching in pain all the time?

PpL Hu tYpe lyKe tIs~!!111 Ue no?

Holy shit, dude. I think I became a little less intelligent just by attempting to type like that. Typing that was hard for me because I have enough decency to type properly to ease the readers so it won't be a freaking Sudoku. And I hate Sudoku. So yeah, a double whammy.

I don't know about you guys but I have this certain perception for people who type like this. I'm not trying to stereotype but I think that people who type like this have a lower level of IQ. I mean, it mind boggles me to try to fathom why some people just can't seem to type in full. Can't spell? Can't see the letters on the keyboard? Not enough letters on the keyboard? What? Tell me and I will try to understand your predicaments when using a computer. I'm sure the people who use the Internet have some sort of education. A degree or a diploma from your nearby kindergarten (kindergartens are so bloody advanced nowadays) or at least, some exposure on how to preserve your social worth. I don't think saving time by typing like that is a pretty concrete reason. I'm fine with initialisms like 'BTW' and 'FYI' but to replace 'come' with 'cum' or 'you' with 'ue' (yeah, 'ue' because 'u' is just not creative enough, unlike 'lyke') is just guhhhh.

I don't mind simple grammatical mistakes because I'm not a Grammar Nazi and I do make grammar mistakes myself but c'mon, please learn how to differentiate 'they're', 'there' and 'their' and 'you're' and 'your' because the ability to distinguish homophones actually makes you look smarter. In reality, no one really knows if you're using the right word during a conversation because of the characteristics of homophones so you're a lucky bastard who can get away with it but in the cyber world where we type words to communicate, you're as good as fucked, my darling.

I don't know why I'm being so hard on people who type like this.

I just hate them? That's good enough right?

Another thing that annoys me like fuck. Using numbers to substitute words and syllables.

Dude : Hey ther!

Bimbo : Oh hey 2 ue 2!

Dude : Gr8 work wit ur presentation.

Bimbo : Thnks 4 the compliment. Nyway, c ue l8er!

Seriously, that was hard. I should actually applaud for these people who type (and think like this in their minds) on a daily basis. It is hard work, people. Their brains probably work in a different frequency compared to normal people.

Also, people who abuse their caps lock and shift key.

HaHa TiS iS sOO FuNN!

No. No, it's not. Capitalising alternate letters in a word is not fun. People use the caps lock for a reason. See, I use the caps lock when I'm trying to emphasise something. Something like THIS. And when I'm experiencing an emotion that requires me to use the caps lock key. For example, when I'm happy (HAHAHA! YAAYY); when I'm in shock (OMG WTF IS THAT) or when I just need to shout my thoughts out (DID YOU KNOW THAT TODAY IS SATURDAY? YAAAYY). You know what? Here's a challenge for you people who abuse the caps lock and shift key. I would like you to pronounce and say it exactly like how you type without looking like a complete ass. I fucking dare you.

And the best part is that behind this retard typing skill, there are actually intelligent people who choose to project themselves this way. Why? Why do you do that to me, intelligent people? I respect you for your brain superpowers but when I read the posts or messages you post, the inflated balloon of respect I have for you immediately shrinks or deflates. Just like that. Gone. Poof. Along with your attractiveness (I always find intelligent people to be sexually attractive like, oh turn me on by reciting the Newton's Law, you sexy hunk). You can go from a hot, sexy guy who knows about Greek mythology, UFOs and listens to Arcade Fire to just some guy by typing like that. Because it's a fucking turnoff okay?

I'm releasing that pretentious bitch vibe, aren't I?

Personally speaking, I detest this because it is just degrading. It degrades the standard of the English language, which is to me, a very beautiful and creative language. Like, why-noses-run-and-feet-smell creative. English is such a fun language and wordplay is never ending. But to watch people destroy the language like this and indirectly destroy the minds of readers is just..saddening. I respect the language, thus explaining why I always type the way I do. Sometimes I feel that English is deteriorating because we allow people to destroy the language like that. This has nothing to do with the freedom of self-expression or your individual right to type however you want because you can. It's a matter of preserving the integrity of the language. And to realise that fellow Internet users can actually understand this kind of crap upon their first reading is just scary.

And there it is, my first post for my Shameless List.

Tick.

So.

I was blog hopping and I have decided that she is amazing. I hope she's a she though, because she sounds like a she. But if she's not a she but a he, then there's a big problem there.

She/He/It is doing this meme that caught my interest and I have decided to tag along and do it too. Because I am bored like that. And because memes like these are the best way for you to feel closer to me. As if you're not some stalker who secretly reads this blog for amusement. And allows you to stalk me in a way that is not possible in reality because I make shameless things look cool and you wouldn't know what hit you.

Onwards!

30 Shameless Posts On Shameless Things

1. Declare your love for an uncool TV show.
2. Look a fool.
3. Eat. Whatever you feel like eating.
4. Waste time.
5. Declare your love for an uncool movie.
6. Act 'girly' or 'manly' in a way you’d normally avoid.
7. Share your efforts at something you don’t think you do well.
8. Sweat.
9. Expose something messy or dirty you’d usually hide.
10. Declare your love for an uncool band.
11. Dress to show some skin.
12. Share about a health struggle.
13. Speak up about something crap that was done to you.
14. Hold yourself accountable — not guilty — for something crappy you did to someone else.
15. Dress, walk, and act like you know you’re all that.
16. Spend money on a non-necessity or share a financial struggle.
17. Discuss the reality of your work situation.
18. Brag.
19. Share details about a bodily function or fluid.
20. Talk about sex.
21. Express a strong feeling.
22. Set a boundary.
23. Air one of your secrets.
24. Share a struggle you have yet to “just get over.”
25. Ask for help.
26. Make a mistake.
27. Express a dissenting opinion.
28. Discuss a failure.
29. Look a fool.
30. Name 3 more ways you can live shamelessly and commit to doing them.
    

'Set a boundary'? What does that even mean? Guh, Meme. And 'Look a fool', twice? Meme, you're asking too much from me. But. Challenge accepted.

I shall save self-humiliation for another sunny day.

Now, reading on Machiavellianism. Because Nicollo Machiavelli is boss.

Seasons.

I need to stop thinking about it. I NEED TO STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. I NEED TO FUCKING STOP FUCKING THINKING ABOUT IT NOW. NOW. NOW.

NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW

GAHHHHH *insert head desk here*

I hate you, heart. Guh. I need to break something now, with my bare hands.

Like, a fucking chair. Literally. A chair used to fuck. I need to find one of those. To break. Now.

I want to maintain the 'cool and chill' look but fuck, with everything being bulldozed into my life in such a short period of time..

gho;ipasjgajef'pdfvnadsfopo[ihsadfpoj]vswqiefbo[iheqfvo[ihbbooin[eq[ohi oh [iwowp i [owq o[fow pooh igwogoihmwe tiursogoij;eon;tdsgowekwp[johpooip

Sorry, that was my head, expressing its frustration on the keyboard.

I am such a fucking mess right now.

Zip.

Realization.

It was more of the idea of the relationship, rather than the person. It was the memories, not the person in the memories.

It had never really been about the person. I've gotten it all wrong all this time.

Better late than never, I guess. I am learning more and more about myself each day now.

_____

I managed to catch a bit of a discussion between three people on the radio yesterday. They were talking about a pretty interesting topic. Heaven and Hell. I'm not sure if they started the discussion off by relating it to religion but when I tuned in, it was how you bring Hell or Heaven upon yourself.

Heaven or Hell; we will never be able to confirm of its existence. Whether it is a physical space or a method by religion to put people in their places and to control their actions, we will never know. But the idea of Heaven or Hell on Earth is interesting. A woman who was part of the discussion brought up a Jewish side of a story about a rabbi visiting Heaven and Hell. In Hell, the rabbi sees long tables filled food and around the tables were people who were angry and frustrated. The people were feeling miserable and angry because their arms were splintered, disabling them from bending their arms. Since they can't bend their arms, they can't use the spoons to feed themselves.

The rabbi is then taken to Heaven where he meets a similar setting; long tables with huge quantities of food. Instead of frustrated people, he sees happy and cheerful groups of people gathered around the table. Their arms are also splintered just like the people he saw in Hell. But the difference is that these people help each other when they're hungry. If a person is feeling hungry, the person sitting on the opposite side will take some food from his plate and feed him. By giving to others, he will get the same treatment in return.

Heaven and Hell are created, despite the similarities in setting. We create our own Heaven and Hell based on our actions. We experience Hell on Earth when all we give is selfishness and greed and Heaven when we share and love each other. I know that we are always told to be good to have good in return and vice versa. Yet, this story made me have deep thoughts. Perhaps, it's because I don't truly believe of a Heaven or Hell after death. I guess, I believe that we create our own versions of Heaven and Hell on Earth. Earth as the setting and it is up to us to create a Heaven or Hell for ourselves.

The idea of how we can alter the experience of Heaven or Hell based on our actions is fascinating. Like, there is no higher power to put us in our places after death. We decide where we want to be. Here and now.

What if life on Earth which is perceived as a test by God to decide where we are going to spend our eternal lives in is actually Heaven or Hell? What if God prepared Earth as an ambiguous setting for us and our lives are our own versions of Heaven or Hell? What if we are actually dead right now?

Oh gosh, my head.

Keys.

Friendly reminder : Just because I am not saying anything about it, doesn't mean I don't know anything about it. So, please watch what you're posting on Facebook.

______

Honest post today.

I can finally able to say this without lying to myself. I'm moving on now. I am no longer clinging to the past. I don't have what ifs taunting me every time I have free time in my hands. I don't hope for anything from you anymore. I am finally free from the clutches of the past. Well, it only took about a year or so. But yeah, the taste of freedom has never tasted so sweet.

What got me clinging to the hope that we might have a second chance was simply, the nature of the relationship. It was light and fun. It was spontaneous giggles and late night calls. It was the relationship I've been waiting for all these years. Of course, I didn't know that this was the kind of relationship that I've been craving for until you happened. That's why the word perfection kept coming up. Too perfect to be true. It felt just right. Too right.

And when everything was gone, it shattered me to pieces. I felt lost and for once, I didn't know what to do. I always had a strategy for everything. Didn't study? Screw it and polish my guessing skills. No clothes? Mix and match. It happened so fast that I had no strategy to get out of it in one piece (because I never felt the need to think about the possibility of a break up) and I was aimless. First, for days. Then, weeks. Months. It was hard on me. I felt like running away from my own body. Thus, apathy.

...Okay, this might sound like those emo and depressing kind of posts kids these days type about but whatever.

At first, I embraced apathy. Like, fuck school. I can wear my shoes however the hell I want. I can walk out of class whenever I feel like without permission. Skip lessons. Not doing homework. Then, it got worse. Not listening to my parents. Not caring if my friend is okay after a break up. Showing the middle finger in front of people who annoyed me. I've finally realised how serious it was when my dad was admitted into the hospital for a possible heart attack late at night. My mum told me about my dad's chest pains and her plans to admit him into the hospital and asked me to go to bed because it's a school night. And I did, without hesitation. Without arguing with my mum that I want to be there in the hospital with the rest of my siblings. I slept. I went to school the next day as though it was like any other ordinary day.

Then it finally hit me that if I continued to be this way, I would really end up being incapable of feeling anything. It might end up being a permanent thing and I won't be able to recognise emotions anymore. So, kids. Do not try this at home. Or at your friend's place.

Despite everything, I came out alive. Literally and figuratively. I did not try to commit suicide like those emo movies. I did not try to stand in front of a train like what Bruno Mars told us to do. I am capable of feeling again. I am beginning to socialise now. I turned out pretty fine actually. I'm so boss at this, jyeah.

It was a pretty eventful year for me. The struggles and the mental battles. But safe to say, I am okay now. I am moving on now.

This is so gonna be in my autobiography. Chyeah.

Grade.

Procrastination lalalala.

I am capable of getting a 4.0 for my CGPA in my exams but I am so darn lazy.

I rather type a post about me doing nothing than to study. Teachers are like, "YOU CAN DO IT 4 FLAT 4 FLAT YEAHHH" and my parents are like, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING? EXACTLY. YOU'RE DOING NOTHING. STUDYYYY RAWR"

I don't know. Maybe it's my rebellious side that is causing me to not study. Like, if everyone is making me study, the urge to not study just triples. Because I'm a teenager like that.

What? I'm a young adult now?

Ah, shit.

Also, if I were in Saudi Arabia, I'd be a pretty bad student. Like, a really bad one.

Grade		Percentage	GPA value
Excellent Arabic: ممتاز‎	A+	95–100	4.0
	A	90–94	3.75
Very Good Arabic: جيد جداً‎	B+	85–89	3.50
	B	80–84	3.0
Good Arabic: جيد‎	C+	75–79	2.50
	C	70–74	2.0
Acceptable Arabic: مقبول‎	D+	65–69	1.50
	D	60–64	1.0
Failure Arabic: راسب‎	F	0–59	0.0

95 to 100 is a 4.0? WHAT KIND OF HUMAN IS THAT?

_______

And this is my theme song for today.

MGMT- "All We Ever Wanted Was Everything" (Bauhaus Cover) by LateNightTales

I shall go and hit the books now. Like, literally. With my head.