I was writing something very very deep when it got disrupted by a phone call. And now, I don't feel like continuing it anymore, maybe I'll keep it for another day, but things that come out later aren't as good as when they're fresh. That is me. If I repeat myself too many a time, it just doesn't sound as good anymore.
I am really really stressed out right now. And whatever made me stressed out doesn't even concern me. Of course, I am always there when people call me, even at 3am, but right now, when I need someone to cheer me up, I see no one. Maybe beau is right. I should stop caring. I've already given up bothering. And maybe, just maybe, I shall only look out for myself.
My holiday was fine, maybe I was starting to rot, and there always is my mum's nagging. Truth is I've gotten pretty used to it, of course there still is discomfort and irritation when she talks about things I already know and wish not to talk about, but how do I tell her that the torture of having to think of it by myself is bad enough? That is one thing my mother does not understand. I personally prefer hands-on self-experience. I mean, if I did something wrong, which I AM already feeling guilty about and it isn't actually a secret, I think its torture enough having to sit and ponder about my own doings by myself. I don't need you to add salt and sugar anymore. After all, I'm not a small kid anymore and I do have a conscience. That is, unless you believe that you have not brought your children up right. This are the things I hate.
People adding salt on to an already self-inflicted fresh wound. You may argue that the salt is good for killing bacteria that may attack the wound. But do remember that the addition of salt causes pain. And let's not forget how the Japanese used to kill innocent people by cutting them up in different places and splashing them with salt water. It's perfect. The salt was meant to help the wound heal, but of course, an intolerable amount becomes a deadly weapon. I'm already feeling depressed and very guilty and here you are at my ear nagging and yelling things that I know and already heard of. Sometimes you really can't help but blame human nature. If everybody did as they were told, and not do anything of which consequence is already a known fact, we'd might as well just install microchips in our brains and leave all the thinking to whoever ruled over the planet. That'd be so much easier wouldn't it? It's not like a thieve does not know that stealing is wrong before he does it. All I want is for you to accept what I do and not nag me about it. I know what I'm doing and I know the consequences. If you'd stop and listen than maybe I'd give you a chance to know. But I do not the foresee that day to be any nearer than it ever has.
Frustration. Nope, I don't deal with frustration very well.
Sometimes, I really wonder what is right and what is wrong.
Who governs what is right and what is wrong. And why is right right and why wrong cannot be right. I wish I couldn't care less, than maybe I'd hurt less. Sometimes I wish I were alone, maybe I'd deal with loneliness better than frustration. Till today, I cannot differentiate what is true from what is false. And even if it is the truth staring at me right in the face, isn't it humanly possible as well as normal to just deny? Whenever everything fails, there is always denial. Denial is something that everyone will have. Whether your denial holds true is an entirely different story.
Sometimes I wonder why it is so complicated to be human. Why can't we all live a simple life? What is the need for lies, deception, and manipulation? if everyone told the truth, wouldn't everyone be happy? And of course, the truth must start from the beginning till the end. It cannot start half way, because then, it will lead to omission. Which makes telling the truth in the first place entirely useless.
The world is a place, where answers can be found. There is no such thing as an unsolvable mystery. No man ever has no options. It's just us who refuse to take the option. Although we can't be blamed all the time. Options are always available. Options always lead to solutions. The difficulty lies in choosing the option that causes the least damage. That is the one thing that influences are decision. Days when you seem as if you are left with no choice, these are days where you have explored every option which each have severe consequences behind them. The trick is to choose the least risky option which will cause the least damages. Is that not so?
This leads to the fact that the world was made simple. Water is water, and earth is earth. Water is made out of two hydrogen atoms, and one oxygen atom, or so we think that's what its called. Discovering wonders does not give anyone the right to play God. Because it'd be an irony since it wouldn't be a wonder to God. Again, sometimes I feel as if the human mind has been so polluted that it has ripped the earth of all its simplicity. I really wish my own mind was not polluted with all this need for complexity. Why do we have to hide behind a mask and be someone we don't want to be? That is something I'm trying to live without nowadays. And believe it or not, I'm actually even trying it with my mum. After all these years of doing what she deliberately says not to, I've decided that I shall stay within my boundaries, even if it means staying on the line. But of course, I will not sacrifice my soul for that. And by that I mean I shall not deprived myself from the right to love and love back. This is a universal thing. It's true my mother do not approve of all the friends I hang out with, but I think I should know my friends better than my mother does. After all, I spend more time with them than she does. It may be true that she may have more experience when it comes to judging people. But that does not mean that her judgement is flawless. Very often I have found that my mother's judgements are clouded with her own hauntings and misinterpretations, and her own wrong doings, but let's not forget the tendency to be paranoid. Sometimes I wish I could write this big article in some newspaper so that every parent can see what they sometimes do to their children. It's not always true that mummy knows best. Very often, the intention may be good, but the actions may be wrong, thus leading to the wrong results. Truth is, many of these books/articles have been written by adults who've very often forgotten what it feels like to be a kid. Sure, we remember bits and pieces, but very often, how we feel about those bits and pieces can be very different when we decipher it at different times of our lives. I, for one, admit to that. It all boils down to the fact that people grow with time, and their perspectives change. Sometimes I feel proud of whom I've become. Sometimes I do feel grateful to my mum, and yes, I sometimes do catch her by simply raising the question "Do you think you've raised kids that are that bad?" or simply "Do you really think that you've thought us no that?". Although I strongly feel that even with great examples, a person should not and must not entirely absorb all the characteristics that are passed on to her. It just wouldn't be natural. It would feel like wearing someone else's dentures. We ourselves must have an internal filtering system which deciphers for ourselves, which is good for us, and which is not. Is it not a natural process to only take what is good, cultivate it and let it grow, and leave the bad behind? After all, there really is no use in cultivating bad seeds. I remember when I was really young, and my mum kept interfering with everything I wanted to do. Basically, she said no to everything I wanted to do, forced me into something I really didn't like, told me what a fool I was, and discouraged me from cultivating the love I might have had for what she forced me to do. I remember being so frustrated, that I locked myself in the room, and decided to write her a letter which I meant to hold her accountable for all the misery I felt. I could never understand how my mother could bear to see her own daughter in tears and feeling like crap and not show a single hint of compassion. I hid the letter among my mother clothes, secretly hoping that she'd never find it, or find it way later when she'd have forgotten about what I've done, of course risking a perfectly quiet day which I might have had until she found the letter. But she found the letter a few hours later. And it was a real shocker for me that she didn't scream at me. Because I was prepared to get a scolding of my life, cry, scream, kick and do what I have to do just so I'd be able to release whatever she had made me felt throughout the years all in one blow. But it never came. In contrary, she actually said sorry! That was the day I found out my mother was human too, and even I was able to make her feel mortal without showing a hint of compassion on my face. And perhaps because of that, my mother's foul mood has always been acquainted to my doings, whether wrong or right. Just imagine how horrible it feels, to have her speak bad about you in front of your brother. And just imagine if he'd take it the wrong way and believed he was the arrogant fool who was perfect in the eyes of his mother.
Some days, you feel as if some people really can't be helped. I've been in both situations before. And I dare say that everyone has been in them as well. The problem with humans is the hypocrisy they all practise. It's easy to point fingers when you're not the one whom everyone is pointing too. However how easily we let ourselves forget that we might have been the one sitting on the hot seat with all those fingers pointing at your direction. I try hard to remind myself that I don't have any more right than any of these people pointing their fingers, looking for a prey. Are we all not guilty for one thing or another? There is no one on earth who will never face accusation and judgement. It's amazing how insensitivity has rooted itself into our skins, making us feel no shame at all until their turn comes.
What more can I do, but just say all these? Things that seem senseless to the rest of the world, but really do carry much more thought than the weight of each word. People say karma is simple and easy to understand. It follows the principle of 'do unto others what you want done unto you'. However, this karma which I do believe is meant to be simple, has been made complex as the world's simplicity was ripped out of it. And thus, leaving me to wonder if what we do really will come back to us. Because I see a lot of people doing misdeeds for very long periods of time, but still prospering. Which sometimes wonder if I'm a worse person than they are since they are capable of happiness while I'm not. I wonder what I've done that is so wrong that I don't deserve to feel happy without having to worry that this happiness will come to a very bitter end. I wonder what is it that I'm doing enough to qualify to feel that way. I see people who pour out their hearts and souls but being unappreciated, and on the other hand I see people who do a half-hearted job but receiving praises way beyond fair. So, maybe the world in all its complexity has gone haywire and has decided to favour those who don't try, and let those who try keep trying.
In the Bible, it is said that this world is not forever. God will save all those he can, and build a new world. Some say that it's because he feels that this world is no longer good for us. I can see why. And I do agree with starting afresh, something I'm trying very hard to do myself.
P/s: I'm sleep deprived, and I think my whole holidays have been ruined. I was hoping to go back revived to start all over again on a fresh sheet of paper. But I guess I accidentally spilt ink on it already. I wish I could just turn over to another page and get ready for the new semester. And so, my one longing wish, is to feel happy, without having a single trace of worry at all. To feel pure utter happiness without having to wonder when it will run out. To feel happiness, without having to think that it will end because life is full of ups and downs. To be on top, and stuck, remembering how it felt like at the bottom, never having to worry of falling down again.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
I am Jane's Insomnia
The best emotions to write out of are anger and fear or dread. The least energizing emotion to write out of is admiration. It is very difficult to write out of because the basic feeling that goes with admiration is a passive contemplative mood.
Ever since the holidays started I've always managed to sleep at least by 3am. But today, it's freaking close to 6am already and I'm still wide awake. Peterchu (no his surname is not Chu, I just like to call him that because he used to call himself pikachu), Guoy, and some unknown dc++ people whom I've not bothered to be acquainted with have gone for freaking breakfast while I'm still dreaming about a midnight snack.
I was roaming around the net and have finally settled on catching up on writing. Yes, I know, I've been very lazy. In fact, too lazy to even think. So, on for a commercial break now:
With the slimmest chance of making his debut in Heroes Season III, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, BUCKET MAN!
With the ability to puke acidic vomit and of course, his back-stepping sidekick, Botak man who has no thumbs.
Anyway, what thought shall I dig out from my brains today?
Oh, yes. I've been meaning to share this for a very long time. Not the blog, just one quote:
The best emotions to write out of are anger and fear or dread. The least energizing emotion to write out of is admiration. It is very difficult to write out of because the basic feeling that goes with admiration is a passive contemplative mood - Susan Santog
Sadly, I cannot bold it because Blogger seems to enjoy playing tricks on me. At one point, my ads and profile were so disorganized but it's all good now, although my tool bar is still incomplete.
So seriously, no one can be blamed for all the unhappiness in the world. Because obviously a lot of people will be writing about anger and fear and very little about admiration. And I, for one, am living example of that quote.
Today's topic will be, why I am the emo queen I am today. Let's take it from the top.
At the tender age of nine months old, my mother would leave me in the care of her sister, my aunt while she'd go to work. And so it is almost inevitable that I'd grow very fond of this aunt. My aunt lives with her husband and their second daughter. My uncle, whom everyone has told nothing but great things of him until recently, has a mouth that never stops. Even today with only two of his original set of teeth left, he can still out speak any politician you can think of, and perhaps, that is where I got my political tendencies from. My cousin, Linda, whom everyone saw, but seldom heard, was and still is an accountant. And because my aunt's first daughter worked in Singapore and her youngest son in KL, it was natural for Linda to be my choice for favourite cousin. Linda now has a daughter, Sim, whom I adore very much, and envy of for her youth and naiveness. It was on mother's day, one day before the day I was born, when I started missing how happy I was. No one noticed, no one even knew what day it was tomorrow. Sim, my aunt, uncle and my parents were down in KL. My parents were here on 'official duty', seriously, and my aunt and uncle just decided to tag along. We were all sitting down for dinner, and as of Chinese tradition, the seafood platter was always served nearing the end of the meal. We had prawns that day, and because I was allergic to them, I was left to wander among my own thoughts.
I remember how I was the favourite. How everyone would acknowledge my existence, lavish me with gifts and words, and how sad it was that it has already been a decade since the pampering stopped. It's like I woke up one day and felt all the cuteness drained out of me. And on that day, I started to become a shadow. I was no longer in the centre of attention, but I had to fight to prove myself. The world has been unfair to me for as long as I've lived. It's true that I was the long awaited child. My parents were left childless for a few years after their marriage. But my presence was only appreciated for one year, after which my brother came into the world and stole everything away from me. This is sheer proof that the world does not favour me. I was just about one when he came. Perfectly incapable of rationality. I was still cute in my mother's eyes, but the cuteness was only expressed 15 years after. Why? Because everyone's time was occupied by fussing over my brother. My mother knew this very well. I never gave her problems. I was a good baby. I slept, ate, pooped and smiled when I was asked to, only to do the opposites when I became a teenager. My mother was never tired when it came to playing with me. Because when she'd accidentally fall asleep, I'd sleep too. But my brother had his way all the time. He knew his enemies well and he used his secret weapon well; crying. He came out crying, he cried when he pooped, he cried when he had to eat, he cried when he was supposed to sleep, so much so my mother was so fed up she'd just let him cry till he was tired. This jealousy that was cultivated so young, it's just hard to leave behind. It's not something you grow out of, because jealousy knows no age.
I started speaking at the age of 10months old. No one said anything. My brother was a late bloomer, he started after 1 year. But that made no difference to anyone. But when we reached that stage where we were able to deduce for ourselves, what should be done, and what should not be done, I kept my mouth shut when I knew that what I wanted to say was not pleasant to the ears. My brother? He just voices it out, and gets no blame or feels no shame for it. In fact, people thought it was cute. Not many remember me from my childhood, but they do remember my brother's antics.
The only up side was that I, being the girl, got to play dress up, A LOT! Everytime somebody comes back from somewhere, I'd get a fancy dress, or beautiful hair clips, or little purses. Stuff which I keep till today. Unfortunately, my very generous mother has given most of my dresses away while I was in KL (if I could I'd move everything with me). My brother, was always not contented with what he had, and thus, by screaming, he'd practically blackmail my parents or somebody into buying him other stuff. All in all, I paid the price for being a good child, and now I am paying the price for being the rebellious one. I guess I have myself to blame for that. I should have screamed when I had the chance, and kept quiet now.
My brother's naiveness is still stuck with him till today. He, who doesn't even realise the fact that he will be flying off to Canada in about a month. I really don't understand why this world is so unfair. I think between the both of us, I'd be the one who'd really enjoy going overseas. Being overseas and staying home makes no difference to my brother, so why bother wasting money?
And of course, inevitably, in the spotlight of the well celebrated JPA scholar whom everyone loves, who would notice a girl like me? It's not like I don't have a scholarship, and it's not like I don't have brains. In fact, the woman who gave birth to us both, she should know better. She knows that her first is the one with more intelligence than the second, although the second is more diligent than the first. I hate how people belittle me, and that is why this is the only place I can vent my frustrations so leave me be. Things that I do are never appreciated. Nobody sees what I do for them, only my flaws. Only how incompetent I am compared to their favourite when their favourite talks shit about them behind their backs. How is this world fair to me?
I am still miserable, although not as much as I was about 2 years ago, but I've also thought less. It was like the more I thought the more it became logical, the more it made sense to me, the more everything was explained, the more truth I saw. And of course, the truth hurts, and that's why I hurt. And so I bury myself in meaningless conversation, meaningless books, dumb blonde series, comedies and alike, leaving the thinking to my drunken twin whom I don't get to meet so often nowadays. It's as if I were Jackie Chan in his kungfu movies. It was as if I was the drunken master. Because the alcohol brought my true self out.
Today, I seclude myself. I surround myself with only those I truly cherish, and am slowly fading from the memories of those whom I've learnt to live without. I'm secluding myself because I want to be surrounded with people who really cherish me the way I cherish them, not fake friends who laugh with you but spit behind your back. I've had enough of wanting to become one of them, of having to live up to standards they've unconsciously set in society, and their rumours which grow like cancer. It's starts without you knowing it, and it grows and spreads quickly. And to remove a cancer growth is hard, if not impossible. And perhaps with time and technology, they'll come up with a way to cure rumours too?
My life and most deepest thoughts are private (contrary to the fact that I'm blogging it, but believe me that I still choose my words carefully whenever I blog), and I wish to share it only with those whom I think worthy off. I feel that I don't owe anything else to anyone because I'm sick of being unappreciated, sometimes even by those whom I keep close. As they say, no man is an island, and I've chosen those who'd surprisingly hurt me the most, because they are the only ones who are able to make me feel happy again. Even then, I stand on my own two feet more than I've ever have before. This growing up has gone out of control, it's as if my ownself has gone on a vacation that is too good to leave and has left just the body and the medula oblongata to the task. In other words, I feel like a dried up coconut.
I don't understand how karma works. I don't understand why what I do is never enough. I don't understand how the world revolves around those so effortlessly while I just sink to the bottom. Sigh...I've let out a good lot, I don't blog like I do anymore because I've learnt to keep most things private now, save for some. And now I shall bury myself in a dumb-blonde book. This is to all the lost souls out there.
Ever since the holidays started I've always managed to sleep at least by 3am. But today, it's freaking close to 6am already and I'm still wide awake. Peterchu (no his surname is not Chu, I just like to call him that because he used to call himself pikachu), Guoy, and some unknown dc++ people whom I've not bothered to be acquainted with have gone for freaking breakfast while I'm still dreaming about a midnight snack.
I was roaming around the net and have finally settled on catching up on writing. Yes, I know, I've been very lazy. In fact, too lazy to even think. So, on for a commercial break now:
With the slimmest chance of making his debut in Heroes Season III, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, BUCKET MAN!
With the ability to puke acidic vomit and of course, his back-stepping sidekick, Botak man who has no thumbs.
Anyway, what thought shall I dig out from my brains today?
Oh, yes. I've been meaning to share this for a very long time. Not the blog, just one quote:
The best emotions to write out of are anger and fear or dread. The least energizing emotion to write out of is admiration. It is very difficult to write out of because the basic feeling that goes with admiration is a passive contemplative mood - Susan Santog
Sadly, I cannot bold it because Blogger seems to enjoy playing tricks on me. At one point, my ads and profile were so disorganized but it's all good now, although my tool bar is still incomplete.
So seriously, no one can be blamed for all the unhappiness in the world. Because obviously a lot of people will be writing about anger and fear and very little about admiration. And I, for one, am living example of that quote.
Today's topic will be, why I am the emo queen I am today. Let's take it from the top.
At the tender age of nine months old, my mother would leave me in the care of her sister, my aunt while she'd go to work. And so it is almost inevitable that I'd grow very fond of this aunt. My aunt lives with her husband and their second daughter. My uncle, whom everyone has told nothing but great things of him until recently, has a mouth that never stops. Even today with only two of his original set of teeth left, he can still out speak any politician you can think of, and perhaps, that is where I got my political tendencies from. My cousin, Linda, whom everyone saw, but seldom heard, was and still is an accountant. And because my aunt's first daughter worked in Singapore and her youngest son in KL, it was natural for Linda to be my choice for favourite cousin. Linda now has a daughter, Sim, whom I adore very much, and envy of for her youth and naiveness. It was on mother's day, one day before the day I was born, when I started missing how happy I was. No one noticed, no one even knew what day it was tomorrow. Sim, my aunt, uncle and my parents were down in KL. My parents were here on 'official duty', seriously, and my aunt and uncle just decided to tag along. We were all sitting down for dinner, and as of Chinese tradition, the seafood platter was always served nearing the end of the meal. We had prawns that day, and because I was allergic to them, I was left to wander among my own thoughts.
I remember how I was the favourite. How everyone would acknowledge my existence, lavish me with gifts and words, and how sad it was that it has already been a decade since the pampering stopped. It's like I woke up one day and felt all the cuteness drained out of me. And on that day, I started to become a shadow. I was no longer in the centre of attention, but I had to fight to prove myself. The world has been unfair to me for as long as I've lived. It's true that I was the long awaited child. My parents were left childless for a few years after their marriage. But my presence was only appreciated for one year, after which my brother came into the world and stole everything away from me. This is sheer proof that the world does not favour me. I was just about one when he came. Perfectly incapable of rationality. I was still cute in my mother's eyes, but the cuteness was only expressed 15 years after. Why? Because everyone's time was occupied by fussing over my brother. My mother knew this very well. I never gave her problems. I was a good baby. I slept, ate, pooped and smiled when I was asked to, only to do the opposites when I became a teenager. My mother was never tired when it came to playing with me. Because when she'd accidentally fall asleep, I'd sleep too. But my brother had his way all the time. He knew his enemies well and he used his secret weapon well; crying. He came out crying, he cried when he pooped, he cried when he had to eat, he cried when he was supposed to sleep, so much so my mother was so fed up she'd just let him cry till he was tired. This jealousy that was cultivated so young, it's just hard to leave behind. It's not something you grow out of, because jealousy knows no age.
I started speaking at the age of 10months old. No one said anything. My brother was a late bloomer, he started after 1 year. But that made no difference to anyone. But when we reached that stage where we were able to deduce for ourselves, what should be done, and what should not be done, I kept my mouth shut when I knew that what I wanted to say was not pleasant to the ears. My brother? He just voices it out, and gets no blame or feels no shame for it. In fact, people thought it was cute. Not many remember me from my childhood, but they do remember my brother's antics.
The only up side was that I, being the girl, got to play dress up, A LOT! Everytime somebody comes back from somewhere, I'd get a fancy dress, or beautiful hair clips, or little purses. Stuff which I keep till today. Unfortunately, my very generous mother has given most of my dresses away while I was in KL (if I could I'd move everything with me). My brother, was always not contented with what he had, and thus, by screaming, he'd practically blackmail my parents or somebody into buying him other stuff. All in all, I paid the price for being a good child, and now I am paying the price for being the rebellious one. I guess I have myself to blame for that. I should have screamed when I had the chance, and kept quiet now.
My brother's naiveness is still stuck with him till today. He, who doesn't even realise the fact that he will be flying off to Canada in about a month. I really don't understand why this world is so unfair. I think between the both of us, I'd be the one who'd really enjoy going overseas. Being overseas and staying home makes no difference to my brother, so why bother wasting money?
And of course, inevitably, in the spotlight of the well celebrated JPA scholar whom everyone loves, who would notice a girl like me? It's not like I don't have a scholarship, and it's not like I don't have brains. In fact, the woman who gave birth to us both, she should know better. She knows that her first is the one with more intelligence than the second, although the second is more diligent than the first. I hate how people belittle me, and that is why this is the only place I can vent my frustrations so leave me be. Things that I do are never appreciated. Nobody sees what I do for them, only my flaws. Only how incompetent I am compared to their favourite when their favourite talks shit about them behind their backs. How is this world fair to me?
I am still miserable, although not as much as I was about 2 years ago, but I've also thought less. It was like the more I thought the more it became logical, the more it made sense to me, the more everything was explained, the more truth I saw. And of course, the truth hurts, and that's why I hurt. And so I bury myself in meaningless conversation, meaningless books, dumb blonde series, comedies and alike, leaving the thinking to my drunken twin whom I don't get to meet so often nowadays. It's as if I were Jackie Chan in his kungfu movies. It was as if I was the drunken master. Because the alcohol brought my true self out.
Today, I seclude myself. I surround myself with only those I truly cherish, and am slowly fading from the memories of those whom I've learnt to live without. I'm secluding myself because I want to be surrounded with people who really cherish me the way I cherish them, not fake friends who laugh with you but spit behind your back. I've had enough of wanting to become one of them, of having to live up to standards they've unconsciously set in society, and their rumours which grow like cancer. It's starts without you knowing it, and it grows and spreads quickly. And to remove a cancer growth is hard, if not impossible. And perhaps with time and technology, they'll come up with a way to cure rumours too?
My life and most deepest thoughts are private (contrary to the fact that I'm blogging it, but believe me that I still choose my words carefully whenever I blog), and I wish to share it only with those whom I think worthy off. I feel that I don't owe anything else to anyone because I'm sick of being unappreciated, sometimes even by those whom I keep close. As they say, no man is an island, and I've chosen those who'd surprisingly hurt me the most, because they are the only ones who are able to make me feel happy again. Even then, I stand on my own two feet more than I've ever have before. This growing up has gone out of control, it's as if my ownself has gone on a vacation that is too good to leave and has left just the body and the medula oblongata to the task. In other words, I feel like a dried up coconut.
I don't understand how karma works. I don't understand why what I do is never enough. I don't understand how the world revolves around those so effortlessly while I just sink to the bottom. Sigh...I've let out a good lot, I don't blog like I do anymore because I've learnt to keep most things private now, save for some. And now I shall bury myself in a dumb-blonde book. This is to all the lost souls out there.
I am Jane with a missing wisdom tooth.
I opened up Mabel's blog and it's currently playing some song called heartbreaker by who, I really don't know, but I'm really getting in the mood to par-tay. So, Mabel Choong, if there's one thing I must do before we both turn 20 is to party with you at least once. Hem was ever so kind to leave me some comments, and it seems that I've been doing nothing but whine. So, today, (right after writing about how Dr. Pritam Singh yanked my tooth out of my mouth) I shall not complain about myself, but about other people's life, for them, although these people are entirely fictional.
Let's make this short but still bitter.
On that faithful day, my mum decided that I needed reminding that I had an appointment with Dr. Pritam Singh (the dentist who used to visit my school when I was in high school, although he did say that he was going to retire then, but it's been three freaking years since I've left and there he was, still same old Pritam Singh) to which I cheekily replied, "But today is only the 19th!My appointment is on the 20th". And yes, I was whining the whole way there. My parents do not understand because they have never been in the clutches of the fidgety old man. He's bloody damn rough! At first he was supposed to extract the left tooth first because it was much more impacted than the right, but in his haste of gripping my jaw and jabbing me like a piece of dead meat, he jabbed the RIGHT side, and I swear it almost came out through my cheeks. And that's when he decided to ask me "Which side do you want extracted first?". There is no way and ever going to be a way I'd let him jab me both sides so I lied. In a way I think it did me good. Because the bloody damn tooth came out within 2 minutes but it was the worst pain I've ever felt. I finally understand why most people are afraid of the dentist. I really don't remember how I dragged myself to the hospital for every week of the month to get all my four canines extracted when I was in the midst of preparing to put braces on. Ironically, I really don't know when I'm going to finish extracting all my wisdom teeth. I wish they didn't grow.I mean they're obviously useless. So according to the laws of evolution, they should have at least shrank by now, but no! they're the size of all our molars, if not bigger. And so, I have finished complaining.
...............................................................................
I have no idea what spurred my mother into becoming a Khaled Hosseini fan, but she has bought both his books. I can't say I'm a big fan of his, but he certainly got me reading page after page, compared to Dan Brown whom they say is oh-so-good.
I started of with this:
Thousand splendid suns was a phrase from a poem of which is quoted in the story. The irony in this story is how a woman, born as an illegitimate child to a theater owner, whose life ends in a so-called legitimate manner because she killed her good for nothing abusive horny husband. I call it self-defense, they call it murder. Any how, being the lazy me, I checked out the synopsis before I started reading, just so I'd get a hint of it. And honestly, the story does not live up to its synopsis, which is surprisingly rare, but weird as well. Maybe it was the other way around, but I thought there should have been more about Laila and Mariam's days as Rasheed's sex slaves. It really got me thinking if Khaled Hosseini was just imagining days in a life of the women in Kabul or did he use someone's life as an example just like Arthur Golden, writer of Memoirs of a Geisha.
After that, my mum assured me that The Kite Runner was much better and so:
Well, I did like the story much better (because Amir was an aspiring writer and wish I was one too), but there really is something disturbing about it. Amir's half brother, Hassan got sodomized by one of the bullies who was really the same age as them, just taller because he has German blood in him. If you ask me, I'd say that Assef Afghan-German boy was the filthy one. Why? Because his father married a German woman, and so, why is he, the Pashtun-German, holier than the Pashtun-Hazara? If anything I'd say that Hassan would have been a better patriot than filthy Assef. Anyway, as how the Christians think of sodomizing as a sin, I'm sure Islam does too. Not to compare or anything, but just stating that SODOMIZING IS DOWNRIGHT WRONG NO MATTER WHAT RELIGION YOU PRACTISE. (I'm bolding it because a certain someone whom I tried discussing the matter with insisted that I was talking about religion and decided to shut me up by just saying "I don't like to talk about religion". F.Y.I, I'm still pissed. And because I didn't get to share my thoughts I decided to write them here and share it with other people). I don't know what's wrong with me, but seeing someone sexually abused, or just the idea of it, it really disturbs me. It haunts me with the question "How can someone do something like that? Don't they have mothers, sister, and children too?". What made me really mad was how his father could be so compliant inspite his own son's sufferings. Just because society thinks of you as from a lower class doesn't give them the right to inflict such disgrace on you. And the hell is wrong with Assef? A boy not even in his teens, SODOMIZING another boy? That has got to be one sick kid. Probably his role was to make the story much more interesting, but I seriously think if there were such a person living on earth, he better eat shit for the rest of his life. And yes, it doesn't end there. Years later, after Hassan and his wife are brutally MURDERED not executed for doing no crime, the sick bastard shows up at the orphanage and picks Hassan's son, Sohrab, and SODOMIZES him. Not once, but almost everyday, before prayers. If that doesn't make him sick, I don't know what does. The weird thing was how holy he made himself sound when he was talking to Amir, as if sodomy is no sin. How can you sodomize a little boy AND THEN go and pray and pretend you're holy? It's like saying sorry to someone and then kicking them in the ass right after.
All in all, I think that Khaled Hosseini needs to expand his horizons because he really is not that resourceful, both stories are not only written in the same period, but also in the same places, same cities, same roads, and guess what? SAME ORPHANAGE. Perhaps he wrote down all the names of the places he's been to during his childhood, no?
Next up, 4 Blondes, by the same author of Sex and The City. My mum says its stupid, but after all the emotional distressed I've gone through these past few days, I think it's okay to be shallow for a while. By the way, I haven't started on my law. I promise I'll do it tomorrow.
Imagination is a powerful thing. With imagination, one book can take you thousands of miles away, travel through time, completely lost in their world, and leaving yours behind.
P.s :HEM IS A CONTROL FREAK...muahahaha...
Let's make this short but still bitter.
On that faithful day, my mum decided that I needed reminding that I had an appointment with Dr. Pritam Singh (the dentist who used to visit my school when I was in high school, although he did say that he was going to retire then, but it's been three freaking years since I've left and there he was, still same old Pritam Singh) to which I cheekily replied, "But today is only the 19th!My appointment is on the 20th". And yes, I was whining the whole way there. My parents do not understand because they have never been in the clutches of the fidgety old man. He's bloody damn rough! At first he was supposed to extract the left tooth first because it was much more impacted than the right, but in his haste of gripping my jaw and jabbing me like a piece of dead meat, he jabbed the RIGHT side, and I swear it almost came out through my cheeks. And that's when he decided to ask me "Which side do you want extracted first?". There is no way and ever going to be a way I'd let him jab me both sides so I lied. In a way I think it did me good. Because the bloody damn tooth came out within 2 minutes but it was the worst pain I've ever felt. I finally understand why most people are afraid of the dentist. I really don't remember how I dragged myself to the hospital for every week of the month to get all my four canines extracted when I was in the midst of preparing to put braces on. Ironically, I really don't know when I'm going to finish extracting all my wisdom teeth. I wish they didn't grow.I mean they're obviously useless. So according to the laws of evolution, they should have at least shrank by now, but no! they're the size of all our molars, if not bigger. And so, I have finished complaining.
...............................................................................
I have no idea what spurred my mother into becoming a Khaled Hosseini fan, but she has bought both his books. I can't say I'm a big fan of his, but he certainly got me reading page after page, compared to Dan Brown whom they say is oh-so-good.
I started of with this:
Thousand splendid suns was a phrase from a poem of which is quoted in the story. The irony in this story is how a woman, born as an illegitimate child to a theater owner, whose life ends in a so-called legitimate manner because she killed her good for nothing abusive horny husband. I call it self-defense, they call it murder. Any how, being the lazy me, I checked out the synopsis before I started reading, just so I'd get a hint of it. And honestly, the story does not live up to its synopsis, which is surprisingly rare, but weird as well. Maybe it was the other way around, but I thought there should have been more about Laila and Mariam's days as Rasheed's sex slaves. It really got me thinking if Khaled Hosseini was just imagining days in a life of the women in Kabul or did he use someone's life as an example just like Arthur Golden, writer of Memoirs of a Geisha.
After that, my mum assured me that The Kite Runner was much better and so:
Well, I did like the story much better (because Amir was an aspiring writer and wish I was one too), but there really is something disturbing about it. Amir's half brother, Hassan got sodomized by one of the bullies who was really the same age as them, just taller because he has German blood in him. If you ask me, I'd say that Assef Afghan-German boy was the filthy one. Why? Because his father married a German woman, and so, why is he, the Pashtun-German, holier than the Pashtun-Hazara? If anything I'd say that Hassan would have been a better patriot than filthy Assef. Anyway, as how the Christians think of sodomizing as a sin, I'm sure Islam does too. Not to compare or anything, but just stating that SODOMIZING IS DOWNRIGHT WRONG NO MATTER WHAT RELIGION YOU PRACTISE. (I'm bolding it because a certain someone whom I tried discussing the matter with insisted that I was talking about religion and decided to shut me up by just saying "I don't like to talk about religion". F.Y.I, I'm still pissed. And because I didn't get to share my thoughts I decided to write them here and share it with other people). I don't know what's wrong with me, but seeing someone sexually abused, or just the idea of it, it really disturbs me. It haunts me with the question "How can someone do something like that? Don't they have mothers, sister, and children too?". What made me really mad was how his father could be so compliant inspite his own son's sufferings. Just because society thinks of you as from a lower class doesn't give them the right to inflict such disgrace on you. And the hell is wrong with Assef? A boy not even in his teens, SODOMIZING another boy? That has got to be one sick kid. Probably his role was to make the story much more interesting, but I seriously think if there were such a person living on earth, he better eat shit for the rest of his life. And yes, it doesn't end there. Years later, after Hassan and his wife are brutally MURDERED not executed for doing no crime, the sick bastard shows up at the orphanage and picks Hassan's son, Sohrab, and SODOMIZES him. Not once, but almost everyday, before prayers. If that doesn't make him sick, I don't know what does. The weird thing was how holy he made himself sound when he was talking to Amir, as if sodomy is no sin. How can you sodomize a little boy AND THEN go and pray and pretend you're holy? It's like saying sorry to someone and then kicking them in the ass right after.
All in all, I think that Khaled Hosseini needs to expand his horizons because he really is not that resourceful, both stories are not only written in the same period, but also in the same places, same cities, same roads, and guess what? SAME ORPHANAGE. Perhaps he wrote down all the names of the places he's been to during his childhood, no?
Next up, 4 Blondes, by the same author of Sex and The City. My mum says its stupid, but after all the emotional distressed I've gone through these past few days, I think it's okay to be shallow for a while. By the way, I haven't started on my law. I promise I'll do it tomorrow.
Imagination is a powerful thing. With imagination, one book can take you thousands of miles away, travel through time, completely lost in their world, and leaving yours behind.
P.s :HEM IS A CONTROL FREAK...muahahaha...
Monday, June 16, 2008
I Am Jane, Exam-free for the next 2 months..
The dread has ended. But I don feel contented (hey, that rhymes!). I feel like knocking my self silly when I ask 'Why did I choose ACCA?'. And even now, I'm already thinking of plan B because I don't want to be like the many people I've seen who sit in college through half of their twenties. I want to go out to work, see the world, and retire way before my age, maybe freelance a bit, but definitely not slog. I've always seen myself leading an easy life. Who doesn't? I mean who in their right mind, will dream of slogging away, counting every penny before they buy their next meal, wondering if there'd be enough for tomorrow.
But of course, I do not dream of being rich and famous, at least not being famous. I like my privacy, I always have. Maybe it's because of the lack of privacy I had when I was a child. Whatever it is, I don't wish to slog anymore than I have to when it comes to this. For one, it's not a course of my choice. People tell me I can be anything I want. But my parents chose accountancy. I know that I don't know what I want to be, but what I do know is what I DON'T want to become. Firstly, I don't want to be a nurse, because I'd have to look at the sickly and the old everyday, and I just know I'd be depressed for the rest of my life. And of course, I can't study IT because we all know there're more than enough IT grads. And I definitely can't do medicine or anything Bio-related because I HATE to study and Bio is just like learning another language. And after hearing all the horror stories, I just know I don't want to be an accountant any longer than I have to.
Well, I do like drawing, and I do like physics, and math does makes sense to me. So I figured I'd be an architect. I like the symmetrical shapes, the straight lines, the imagination you need, the model-building. Oh, how I love to have the right to point to a building and say that I designed it. It was always in the back of my head, and it got pushed further back after my mum said "I can't afford to pay for you for another seven years." Well, look at where I am now.
For one, I really don't want to be a failure in life. Having to fail itself has broken my spirit. The fact that I have failed itself, has lowered my already low self-confidence
People say that many geniuses failed before the succeeded. Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison. Well I'm not like that. In my case, it's like a car. Once it's got and accident, no matter how you fix it, no matter how well you tend to it, no matter what, it will never be the same again. It will start giving problems, problems that were never there before, problems that sprout like mushrooms after a fall of rain. Somethings will just never be the same again.
Anyway, I'm too lazy to blog. I guess I'll leave blogging till I start my new semester, not that I'm looking forward to it. I only have less than 10 days of my holidays left. And time just keeps flying out the window. I have so many things to accomplish.
So, today's random stuff will be the things I need to do within 10 days:
1. Read all the novels I've been dying to read. To date, I've already finished
Memoirs of a Geisha (which I really liked, or maybe because I was bored)
Thousand Splendid Suns (which is nothing like what the cover says it is)
Joy Luck Club (which was actually disappointing despite all my mum's good comments)
2. Finish reading my law text book so I can spend less time on it. Which I haven't got myself to starting
3. Draw Aunt Sheila's pictures which I also haven't got myself to starting
4. Screw my sleeping habits back right, which I'll probably do today by not sleeping tonight and going jogging with my dad tomorrow.
5. Lose weight. All the weight I lost during the exam period I've gained back. I blame my mum for having so many meals a day.
6. Watch all my movies
7. I dread this. I'm going to have my tooth violently extracted this Friday. And it will be done by none other than Mr. Pritam Singh from my old school days who is now old, wrinkly and shaking but still as crude as ever.
But of course, I do not dream of being rich and famous, at least not being famous. I like my privacy, I always have. Maybe it's because of the lack of privacy I had when I was a child. Whatever it is, I don't wish to slog anymore than I have to when it comes to this. For one, it's not a course of my choice. People tell me I can be anything I want. But my parents chose accountancy. I know that I don't know what I want to be, but what I do know is what I DON'T want to become. Firstly, I don't want to be a nurse, because I'd have to look at the sickly and the old everyday, and I just know I'd be depressed for the rest of my life. And of course, I can't study IT because we all know there're more than enough IT grads. And I definitely can't do medicine or anything Bio-related because I HATE to study and Bio is just like learning another language. And after hearing all the horror stories, I just know I don't want to be an accountant any longer than I have to.
Well, I do like drawing, and I do like physics, and math does makes sense to me. So I figured I'd be an architect. I like the symmetrical shapes, the straight lines, the imagination you need, the model-building. Oh, how I love to have the right to point to a building and say that I designed it. It was always in the back of my head, and it got pushed further back after my mum said "I can't afford to pay for you for another seven years." Well, look at where I am now.
For one, I really don't want to be a failure in life. Having to fail itself has broken my spirit. The fact that I have failed itself, has lowered my already low self-confidence
People say that many geniuses failed before the succeeded. Albert Einstein, Thomas Edison. Well I'm not like that. In my case, it's like a car. Once it's got and accident, no matter how you fix it, no matter how well you tend to it, no matter what, it will never be the same again. It will start giving problems, problems that were never there before, problems that sprout like mushrooms after a fall of rain. Somethings will just never be the same again.
Anyway, I'm too lazy to blog. I guess I'll leave blogging till I start my new semester, not that I'm looking forward to it. I only have less than 10 days of my holidays left. And time just keeps flying out the window. I have so many things to accomplish.
So, today's random stuff will be the things I need to do within 10 days:
1. Read all the novels I've been dying to read. To date, I've already finished
Memoirs of a Geisha (which I really liked, or maybe because I was bored)
Thousand Splendid Suns (which is nothing like what the cover says it is)
Joy Luck Club (which was actually disappointing despite all my mum's good comments)
2. Finish reading my law text book so I can spend less time on it. Which I haven't got myself to starting
3. Draw Aunt Sheila's pictures which I also haven't got myself to starting
4. Screw my sleeping habits back right, which I'll probably do today by not sleeping tonight and going jogging with my dad tomorrow.
5. Lose weight. All the weight I lost during the exam period I've gained back. I blame my mum for having so many meals a day.
6. Watch all my movies
7. I dread this. I'm going to have my tooth violently extracted this Friday. And it will be done by none other than Mr. Pritam Singh from my old school days who is now old, wrinkly and shaking but still as crude as ever.
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