kulitpisang.blogdrive.com has officially moved.

decipher this:

moc.sserpdrow.sleepananab\:ptth

back from the airport, my parents were making up friendly chat with the cabbie. you know how the conversations go; they talk about everything and anything under the sun. His ringtone sang miow everytime his phone rang. And halfway through the convo they were talking about corruption.

It's like a mandatory thing if you wanna make up chat with cabbies. You gotta talk a little politics, cause they love talking about that. Cabbie was saying something like, beri sikit pun complain, tapi kalau beri lebih complain jugak.

In the plane there was a magazine in the little pocket at the back of the seat. It was the Air Asia's inaugural issue I think; Tony Fernandes was saying something about it, can't remember exactly cause I was too restless from five six hours into flight. And then my dad started off his little speech about MAS always being too expensive and beaming with pride as he told me how Fernandes expanded Air Asia in six years as if it were his.

And then I ignored and read Fernandes' little note in the magazine myself; he then talked to my mom.

and then there was something my dad said that pertained to the little topic of corruption and come to think of it that's two times corruption talk in one day. He said that at one point the who and who of MAS were claimed to be getting spare parts from a particular company, receiving the invoices and whatnot. And then suddenly one day investigation revealed that company never existed.

So where money go? pocket lah.

You know in gold coast there were police roaming the streets every night. They walked on the streets and made sure everything was in order. Even the building looked sophisticated, I swore I thought it was an office building, before I realized it was the police station.   

Anyway I'm really tired.

Am I going to make myself happy?

Or am I going to let the bad energy get to me?

Well, it is December, and slumber parties can do that much to lift your spirits =)

I think I'll go with the former. Christmas is the time to be jolly ;p I think it's going to be one hell of a holiday; can feel it in my bones *whistles*

I hear Rhinestone Cowboy on the radio I feel like buying a horse.

Was out with the cousins today. Watched Bee Movie because the other shows were screening way too late.

Hey here's food for thought. If you have child with you while in a cinema, keep her in her seat. It's not that hard. Put her there. Keep a watchful eye over her. Make sure she doesn't prance around. And shut her up, if possible. If your child hits someone in front on the head not once, but multiple times, gee, I wonder, should you have the courtesy to apologize? Or let the person in front throw a sideway glare and fume?

Badawi should be pleased to know his Budi Bahasa Budaya Kita campaign is just another expenditure down the drain.

perspective.

What was that thing they say about surrounding yourself with positive people, negating the bad vibes you get and replacing them with warm, fuzzy feelings?

Bullshit.

At this point in my life, I almost think that's impossible. How on earth can I get through a day without encountering one single person that can spurt out crap like there's no end to it? Crap, crap, crap and oh look, more crap. Gee. I guess some of the shit you throw on the wall does stick after all. The only way I see out is to stay at home the whole friggin' day. Because if someone doesn't churn out the crap, then somehow I do. I put out my own crap in place of the crap that I don't get for that one day. Whatever. So how do I remain in happy lalaland? . . . sleep till 4 in the evening, have dinner, watch television, avoid all means of communication and hit the sack at 10. Now there's a plan.

Is it possible to not be affected by the slightest remark? To not be dented by what people say? To have woks for ears and to be deliberately oblivious? Is that line even within human reach?

What if I say I'm a hopeless pessimist? That whatever happens at the end of the day, I'll only see a glass half empty. That even if Bill Gates were to give me one million I'd tell myself that it must've been something I did for him not to give me the other quarter of a million because hey Bill Gates is allowed to give out millions everyday and still remain the richest bugger on the living planet. A quarter of a million is like dirt to him.

Dirt with a capital D. Organic.

You have to be real pathetic to be in a state of mind like mine.

hahahaha i was reading all the keywords that led people to my blog and one of them was 'muhaimin is retarded' hahahahaha

complete freedom, which is torturous considering that I couldn't be happier lazing on the couch and randomly flipping through trash channels. Yesterday didn't happen with . . too much joy. I still didn't feel the need to throw out my notes when I came home. I still didn't feel the need to shove my books in a place where the sun don't shine. I didn't feel the need to do something out of the ordinary to celebrate temporary emancipation.

All I could think of was of fries, Oreo McFlurry and uploading pictures onto Facebook. I always end my evening with an oreo mcflurry if I'm feeling especially shitty about something or if I'm feeling the day is worth the money spent on an oreo mcflurry. Plus, I eat my mcflurry with fries and that should be how it's done! Because who doesn't eat fries with oreo mcflurry? 

So I ended my evening with another oreo mcflurry.

I came home and as soon as I stepped inside, I ceremoniously threw my bag aside and sat my ass in front of the computer.

Today I threw away all my notes. Everything. But only after I chatted with Nick and asked her what she was doin. She said she was cleaning out stuff and I figured I should do the same thing because my room was turning into one big disgusting experiment if I left it the way it was.

And after all the chucking of chemistry equations, test papers, ionic formulae, juliana's HEAPS and HEAPS of biology notes that I got a good jolly kick out of reading and bm notes and notes with little pigs and smileys and scribbles I drew by the side because I was bored out of my mind, man did I experience one big epiphany. Jesus, it's over. It is sooooooo over. I know I know, accounts paper on Thursday but seriously, after this Friday I can officially say in the most cliched way possible that a new chapter has just, just begun.  

Surprisingly that sounded more sweet than bitter at the back of my head. I'll be flying off next week to sunshine and movie world! And then it'll be a couple of outings and slumber parties and the prom and probably more christmas and new year meet-ups and . .

then what? It's like a threshold to a whole new world. I have half my friends already signed up for college, another quarter in the midst of applying, an eighth trying for scholarships, a couple goin overseas and I'm standing there thinking about whether I want to start studying in January.

Maybe the end of all this isn't so great. I don't think I'm used to the idea of not having everything on default and not having decisions made for me. I somehow feel like I fit more comfortably in an oversized green collared shirt and necktie.

. . maybe I should start worrying after next week. I should appreciate sunshine before the rain hits.

My dad brought back tapioca. mmmhmm.

It's like this plague, whenever I have a cup full of something, it always almost never fails to spill. It's like Murphy's Law, but only because I know what it is.

There was one time when a cup was in my way. Literally. Somehow at the back of my mind I knew that cup was going to tip over. And it did. I accidentally knocked it over. Was that subconsciously done?

But then what if it spills when it's in your hands? I blame it on the cup. Or the person who poured it into that particular cup and then fatefully handed it to me on that day, with the liquid inside the cup, prone to spilling. Vulnerable. Like it's just awaiting the right moment to when you carelessly tip it a few more degrees over than how it should and the liquid comes streaming out, wetting the upholstery of the car's seat and pervading your clothes, the fabric of your bag and you try in frustration to grasp anything, a tissue to soak what is a pool of wasted Coke.

Is it your fault that the Coke spilled? The cup? The person? Or was God just feeling funny?  

I want to do.

crossroads

decisions

fading laughter

jubilation

mixed feelings

perverse

Sometimes I don't know how I keep sane.