If I'm not gonna post anything here for a long time to come (damn i miss this blog!) then you might as well see something nice every time you check back.
Wouldn't that be 'mustashfa'? ;)
That might not be the right word, but I hope EYE didn't misunderstand hahahaha.
Dayumn if I can get confused in a face to face conversation, which is supposed to be clearer than all other forms, then maybe we gotta take it a step further than that! :O
Going to the batcave now. If I'm lucky Gossip Girl will be on TV
Every time I sign in to blogger, I see that this blog has only 70+ posts. I swear its been like that for a year now, even though I'm sure I've... nevermind.
And its kinda (a little) (no not really actually) creepy that the only semi-manifested guests on my blog are semi-unmenifestable people. I'm trying to sound smart here, work with me.
Its now politick time in Singapore, and whilst I try to act grown up sometimes (believe me its hard, and sometimes I wonder why I do it), it gets to a point where I quickly recoil, almost painfully, from the acid pool of whatever it is like to be adult. That 'point' is usually reached within five minutes of any effort to Be Adult.
I don't get it, why do adults have to be so... CHILDISH? Kids are way better at that stuff, and let's face it, they just do it right. Ok time to explain myself.
I'll zoom straight into it: rallying and publicizing. Most common method: posters. How they **** this up: one party puts a poster here, then the next day you find the other party's poster above it, maybe a half size bigger. And if that's not enough, they might even throw in another poster above that just to show who's boss.
Meeting the people: They're gonna be voting, so it makes sense. But visiting them in, uh, McDonald's? People go there to eat. Heck if I were having a meal and one of these people come up to me to say hi and try to touch my hand or something I'll just go (in one of my Fun accents): DHOOD can't ya see I'm trying to eat? Don'-DON'T TOUCHME. (I could go on and on and ON but I'll save the comic parts for another time. HMMMMMMM I like writing funny things.)
And if they really, honestly believe that making hand contact is goodish, then why not just split up so eveyrone in the room gets to touch everyone o ya handZ. A lotta times I see them walking in single file-ish for a big part of the time, and so only like a LUCKY FEW getta shake. Regardless, you can tell some of them aren't interested, some even repulsed at the idea of shaking some fella's hand. Can't really blame them on that part, I've seen idiots digging their noses in public, scratching here scratching there. At least wipe on yourself or something but noooo you just wanna frickin' SHARE YOUR SHIT.
Thanks.
Lastly, if you wanna rally, make it AWESOME. Don't come out with a stupid hairstyle, try to act cool, read off your script, and then end it lamely. Hype the crowd! Get a mosh going! Bodysurf! Heck you could set something on fire if you need to! (Because SCDF will be there in less then 8 mins and they'll whoop that fire's ass with style and everyone will be happy. No, happiER cos they got to see something damn cool.) (Sigh wish I could turnout.)
I saw a clip of this someone's speech on tha noows. Like, News 5 Tonight. Person was at the mic, a guy on each side. Think it was a she. Yeah positive now. At the last word, she pumped her fist in the air. Guy on her right did the same, although a little laggy and unenthusiastically. Guy on her left lifted his arm... to adjust his spectacles. And that was it. I was embarassed for them.
I think I wanna write to the Forum or something, about how campaign guidelines should take into account the environmental impact. And voters should think about all this too. I don't have too cos I'm too young haha suck on that, old beatches, you go queue up and vote while I do something FUN.
I know Pierre Png looked rreeeaal excited when he was explaining about the whole voting process. Him and his cool bag and beard.
Haha and I thought 'political party' was supposed to be fun, like, you know, party, heh. Heh... *ahem* Well.
Whale time done (well I'm done).
I'm so happy my workouts have been going well. My back feels a little sheeshy a lotta times but ohwellwhatever.
FAAAHNELLEH after a long of a million years I be back here wit a thing to be a post fwoh mah blog. Hello.
Foist I wanna talk about an ass, cos its a super relevant thing in my life. Like five days a week. Hah. The thing about NS, to me, is that its damn interesting. 'Why' you may ask. Ok I will tell you 'Why?'.
I meet lotsa ppl with hella interesting names. Long names short names, usually-used-as-adjectives names, super nice names, and no names. Serious sia some people got no name so its just a blank piece of cloth for their name tag, and we call them things like 'eh' or 'sial' or 'eh sial'. Ok no I was kidding on that last count. Maybe I should stop kidding around so much, especially since I'm gonna be a RANDYQUENCHVOLUNTEER
FAIYAFAITA
one day. Maybe a section commander, hopefully a rota commander. Nvm we'll leave the science out for now.
Then there's authority. I find there's two types. Type one: the leaders you listen to because you have respect for them, and you trust their orders. Type two: the leaders you listen to cos you just. Haven't. Reached. That. Rank. Period.
Type two leaders are bastards so if you ever get the opportunity to rembat their face while camp rules do not apply, then please rembat their face while camp rules do not apply. Well since we all know that's not gonna happen, let's just drop the idea altogether. And instead resort to:
Smile forever and never break. The trick is to be so kilat that they can't punish you anymore.
'YOU! Half right change! (i.e. push up position. But they like it when we do it 45 degrees to the left. Something to do with our asses I think... Nevermind.)"
*you half right change*
'Do you know why I'm punish- *ahem* training you?'
'No, *insert rank here*!'
'Its because *insert stupid reason here*'
'Oh.'
'Carry on twenty'
'NO THAT'S NOT ENOUGH MAKE IT HUNDRED, IS THAT ALL YOU GOT!'
Then immediately proceed to do 110-150 pushups, counting loudly for every repetition. Then ask for permission to recover, and when you are given it, proceed to do another 50. Then really recover, and smile. It might help if you softly say 'Eeeee' as you smile; adds to the effect.
Gosh I miss blogging, its so lubricat- LIBERATING. I've not typed like this in so long, it feels brand new. BUT IT ISN'T HAH! Dun dun dunnnnn.
And for the record, I'm damn proud to be in the Civil Defence. Its real shit we're learning, learning to do, and gonna do. The threat's real as hell, and dangerous as hell. But the fire not hot as hell ah. Because like, the um, well... you know the... uh... ok.
To me: its super cool to be in our long four, fire boots, bunker gear, fire gloves, breathing apparatus, fire helmet. Seriously damn cool siak I wanna take photos, just haven't had the chance. And its cool how we're all acclimatizing now, when (edit:)there was once awhile ago stengah orang nak mampos, and some others tak sangka boleh hidup lepas tu. It was kinda exciting but a lil nervousing and a tad scary when I first did drills in full don (minus breathing apparatus). I just wish people could see us in training, cos honestly I think we look damn cool heheh. From this morning otw to lessons, to BTM, to whatever the heck we're gonna do next.
I'm not gonna attempt to talk anymore about training cos its too hard. I get too emotional. Oh look, I've shed a tear. Oh one mo- ok my eyes are tearing nonstop, big hot tears.
Ok I kid.
Its just that I'm sleepy and still a little hungry, I need my hot shower and to put on a shirt, and my fingers are getting a little tired. In short, though, NS is getting fricking fun and, again, I'm super proud of where I am. You probably won't know how its like till you do it, experience the things we gotta do.
To all firefighters, medics, and anyone in the life-saving and defence line: respect, like never before. K phonecall bye.
Intro: I've been unusually sleepy today, though I guess the nonsense exercise I did in the morning is partly to blame. This post is going to be very. Very. Long. So I've separated it into paragraphs, each with colour-coded headings (applause from audience). Where possible, I'll use more bullet points than long paragraphs (hearty laughter from audience).
LAST NIGHT THONG IRON MAN FASHION PROTEST FORGANIZATED PRAISES SKIN
How convenient, a phrase to remember it all! Last night, dressed in nothing but a thong/Iron Man wore a thong in the name of fashion, to protest the forganizated praises he had been hearing about his skin.
LAST NIGHT I spent a lot of time finetuning my com's skinz. You can read about that in the last Chapter (hahaha), SKIN. I was done for the night, it being - OH WAIT! I FORGOT! I went to the living room for awhile, cos I was waiting for the com to load something. THEN, I decided to eat! If you were paying attention, you'd noticed that at that point, I hadn't blogged.
So anyway about eating first. Digestives and milk. Cold. Haha. - I like Digestives - I don't really like them plain - I dip 'em in stuff - Milk or Milo - Optimal dipping time is such that the biscuit begins to sink. This can be observed if you chuck the whole damn thing into a container of sufficient size, wherein your Soak of choice rests. It is at this point that the biscuit is soft enough to break off and sorta crumble, without you biting too hard. Any softer and I'd feel like some geezer.
I ate, I was no longer Hungary, I went back to the computer and decided to blog. It being the first time in a long time I blogged unhungry. - Computer started lagging - Hung on me I was this close to getting medieval wit' it, but I realized computers don't feel no paiiin. So I held back, bit my lip, then decided to shut the damn thing off. And I went to bed, and promptly fell asleep. Knocked out.
And just so you know, I had a slice of bread with approx. 83 grams of tuna flakes in olive oil, at around 1130pm.
THONG Not skimpy wear, but 'song' when you have no teeth/an ulcer/a lisp. I'm posting the link again cos I don't think it worked the last time, I really can't figure out why.
I've decided I'm gonna leave it as it is. So that's the final cut of it.
IRON MAN (!!!) Every time I say/think of Iron Man my heart stops beating awhile my head spins I lose sensation in my limbs and I go limp. I wish I could properly describe to you how I feel about Iron Man *half-faints* but once again I'm faced with the deeply unsettling mental grind of converting the ineffable to a comprehensible formation of letters. That's the irony, its ineffable, yet it has to be effed.
I think it could go on for paragraphs, but I feel this truncated version should give you a remote idea of my sentiments: IT. IS. EFFING. EFFING. EFFINGGGG. COOOOOLLLL!!!! AAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
I kinda considered comparing it to something else, something more, um, intimate. But I have better sense than that, HUZZAH!
MY FAVOURITE PART OF THE TRAILER! AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!! Iron Man and War Machine stand kinda back to back, masks up. Lotsa mean robots around them. They coolly survey the scene. Then CHINK CHINK their masks close in rapid succession AND I FRICKING GO INTO CONVULSIONS AND ITS LIKE I'M IN HEAVEN BUT I KNOW I'M NOT BUT ITS SO AWFULLY GOOD MY HEART'S OUT OF CONTROL I'M A LITTLE BOY ONCE MORE THIS WAS EVERYTHING COOL IN LESS THAN A SECOND I think I jizzed. In. Mahpants. Hahahahha sorry couldn't resist.
If you want 2 minutes of bliss, click here. That's the official trailer on YouTube. My blog is wholly unworthy to act as a surrogate source for something so divine, shining, so purely magnificent and opulent and gilded and exalted and I could go on. Iron Man 2. I can hardly wait. I now have a reason to live. Haaahahaha.
FASHION I cannot CANNOT wait for the day when I finally draw a good salary and have enough to totally support myself and my family. That will be when I go out and get all the things I think I should have, that I should wear. I'm so damn particular about looking sharp, but I'm kinda holding back. While it may be within my means to get all that I want now, I can't help but feel a twang of guilt. Tired to elaborate, so let's just wait till I make about 40k. A day. Ameen! Since we're all in such a holy mood now, I pray that all of you see success in life, achieve your ambitions, and are led along a blessed path. Ameen. If you're my friend then you should know that I love you a lot.
Right, fashion. I was looking through some sites, some whatevers, then did some (highly amateurish) sketches of my own, and I realized that its kinda easy (not easy like one plus one is two, but like running for fifteen minutes). Its kinda fixed, I guess, what guys can wear. That's why designers started crossing over to the ladies' side. A lot of that is actually quite cool, but when you see guys walking around with a piece of their translucent curtain ripped and draped over their tank-top clad bodies, you start to wonder...
Only then did I realize why so many guys design for ladies (the first person I think of is Nabil who is fking talented, and cool beyond description. I think I should head over there and post that now. Read PRAISES for an explanation), because with the women, the possibilities are endless! The human body is amazing, but the female body is a work of art. A naked man is nice to stare at if he's at least fit, and has a cloth draped across his groin. A naked woman is artistic no matter how plump she is (think art from ancient Rome. Ain't no anorexic things there).
Most minds are biased towards curves. Which is why Mac OS is a hell lot sexier than Windows. But ANYWAY. With women there are so many frickin' possibilities that its one helluva challenge. So it takes lotsa skill to produce and physically create something that turns heads, or at least looks good. Aaand you can create so many wonderful looking images and concepts that would otherwise be super difficult/impossible to pull of on a man's body. Like the dress Joanne Peh wore to the whatever awards. I chanced upon the photo at the back of the newspaper, and the dress was really nice. From an aesthetic perspective, all halalness out of the equation.
PROTEST My Gillette Fusion Power shaver has FIVE. FRICKING. BLADES. And one small one at the back. I'm starting to feel really ridiculous using this damn thing, however comfortable it might be. I came across a website detailing the battle between Gillette and Schick, and how they upped the number of blades just to show who's more badass. If a six-bladed shaver comes out, I'll switchover to a kitchen knife.
So anyway I'm kinda protesting silently against my... inanimate shaver. I've got a distant semblance of a goatee now. Sample:
And so in protest, I won't shave it. Then it'll start to annoy me and I'll hack it all off.
FORGANIZATED No more nude photos on my blog. Nor my wordpress nor tumblr nor anywhere else. Hahahahh well I don't exactly appear nude in the photos, just shirtles, but (I've said this before, I remember) in H.G. Wells' War of the Worlds he described himself as 'naked' - cos he didn't have a shirt on.
- There are a heck lot of daaaamn good bodies out there everywhere for you to look at - Mine isn't that impressive, I should stop acting like everyone wants to see it - I think I'm maturing cos I look back now and go... eww? - I guess it might come across as showing off. I hate showing off.
So anyway my tumblr will be left for whatever random shit happens, whilst my wordpress will be my obscure literary asylum. Where I post linguistic works, and where I rant. You won't like the rants. In fact, you might just wanna keep away from my WP. Did that have a reverse-psychology effect? Cos I wasn't intending to reverse anyone psycho.
PRAISES When I have good things to say about people, I'll just bloody say it. Why hold back? I like it when people say nice things to me, and since I figured I can be nice without risking a violent biological reaction, I'll be nice.
SKIN - My super nearly completed album art collection. I'm hardworking. - I got this app that hides the icons of programs on the taskbar. Supposed to make things cleaner and whatnot, but I think I'll undo it. - The yucky yellow folder is now the suave black Folder - Other icons shanged - Tre Fratelli is the name of our iPoop aka iTouch u& uTouch me back. Ok eww. God knows why its listed as a camera... stupid machines. - Top right: and app called CDArt display. Its sexy, and allows me to control iTunes with the keyboard, even when iTunes runs in the background. - My computer is sexayyy. Er. By the day. Sexayyyer by the day.
Dear Blogger, please increase the size for your Create A Post thing. Its too small and crampy and I'm claustrophobic. Kthxbye.
Outro: I know I said I had a tuna sandwich... but I'm hungry again. I don't even eat a lot!! I'm speechless. Its a spellll of sorts that I'm under. Blogging = okay. Nearing end of blogpost = hungry. DigestivesandmilkhereIcome!!!
Time check: 2:37 AM Reality check: ITS FKING LATE Use less salt in your cooking and if you're eating out, DEMAND that they use only the bare minimum. Better still, ask for no salt, then season your food with your own sweat. Its organic, healthy, and completely sensible. STAY SHARP, yall.
I REALIZED. HOW FRICKIN' DUMB IT IS. TO LINK YOU TO MY PUREVOLUME DASHBOARD. I just realized you're not be so you won't be able to log in and listen. I have a new link for you.
edit: the songs might not play from there, I don't know why, I'm frustrated. THIS LINK should do the trick.
Hahaha. Sometimes I wish I could do that for people. But then something comes up and I forget about it HAHA.
I really love my NA class. They're the funnest and best-student buncha people I've met. And I'm so surprised why they hold back so much. ALL of them are so mature and think so differently from so many people I've met; where the heck did things change for them? Its not that I want to 'save' them. There's nothing to 'save' them from. I just want to make sure they know how bloody cool I think they are, and how I think we need more people like them in the world, I'm not kidding. It'd be a much funner and better place like that.
I don't care if my family is full of weird characters, empty promises, things I disagree with, impatience, traces of weakness, whatever. They're my Goddamn family and I love them, and I'd rather have my family this way than not at all. Because I realized for everything I tend to gripe about, there's another 5 that I love and wouldn't want to change in you. I'm still growing up, forgive me my phase.
It'd be fitting, I think, if midway through that paragraph the whole room fell silent, you only hear yourself reading my post. Then you hear my voice quiver and falter, and I hold back a burst of hot tears. Then I give in to its overwhelming rush,a and break down. Then you only hear me weeping silently.
It'd be fitting, I think, but that couldn't get further from the truth. I ran out of Quiver. Hahaha. I like pretending to cry btw.
I just had too much wrong hour sleep, Wrong Place Wrong Hours kinda sleep. I'm still feeling slightly incoherent, I think my neck's protesting a bit, and HEY! I'm not hungry. Dear reader, I hope you know that at least one person in this world holds on to your existence like its everything. You're that important to at least one person. And for the record, you're important to me; because your continued readership feeds my illusion of being damn popular hahahahahhahaha. K no la not like that. Owch my eyes. I like that. Owch. Compared to Ouch.
Take good care of your sharpness so that getting smarter can be a healthy process.
Holy crap its nearly MAY. And we all know thaaaatt
MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU
is a MAGICAL date. Enough shenanigans. On to serious stuff.
I was performing an undisclosed exercise, and upon completion Mak said 'Great!'. I was like 'Huh?' then Mak said 'Your exercise. That was good, you're strong lah.'
You have no idea how high I levitated before I realized levitation wasn't supposed to be possible, then I was left with nothing but happiness. So later on I told her how much that meant to me. I'm gonna keep telling people all these kinda things, cos its things they should know. If they made me happy, I'd want them to be able to have a taste of it. And if I don't tell, I might never get the chance again.
Then there's this one thing I find so strange yet amazing: being happy for someone else. Does it even make sense, to be so happy when someone else has gotten something, and you're the same as before? That someone got into somewhere or won something or something, you're still living the same life you lived yesterday and like two weeks ago; yet you're so happy like something's changed in your life.
I find that so odd! And its such a cool thing, too. This intangible thing, happiness, is so wunderful! In the words of a famous and important person 'It's contagious too, so the spillover effect is tremendous and the possibilities are endless!'. That rhymed, by the way.
I'll leave that at that for now, because I want to think on it on the psychological level. Ironic, because I believe firmly that the Mind cannot be broken up and classified, like its a whole glob of shtuff. Our terms and frameworks are very much shapeless and shaky, with so much room for doubt and challenge. Its like asking 'what is big?'. Its so perspecticle (I just coined that word. It sounds a lot like... spectacle.) I think, with no one being able to even establish general guidelines. I will think about this.
In the meantime, I've got one New Song up, its the Star Wars thang. Just a bit of it, I couldn't resist, and I couldn't get close to the awesomeness of Moosebutter; at least I attempted! You can find. The. Songs.
The other day I drank a hell lotta water; and in the end I pissed so much like nobody's pissness. I just thought you should know, well be- it's kind of a- like, umm, th- ok we'll, uh, just forget that uh, ever... happened. *ahem*
The next time someone helps you, don't think about paying him back. Pay It Forward! Then we can keep the Niceness going and going and oh, it'll be luvvly! Stay sharp people, aliens'r comin'. We gotta look presentable, now. And, uh, really. I'm hungry. #$%&!
Oh no I'm back to my old cycle... OR AM I. I've been able to wake up early though, I wonder if that counts. No it doesn't, because my inner self insists on no less than eight hours of sleep. I just KNOW it when I've not had enough, and eventually I'd just wanna sleep. I usually don't care if something has to be done, unless its really important or for someone.
Speaking of someones. In my post about Disengaging (TADAAAA) I think I mentioned what should go through your mind when you Disengage. Yeah with a kapital Dee, else it doesn't count. I was reading a book today, by Deepak Chopra, something about Discovering Your Secret Side. Soooomething like that ah. Anyway everytime I hear his name I think of:
Guru Pitka of The Ashram. Seen it? The Love Guru? I liked it, I laughed a lot and imitated him for weeks after watching the damn movie.
So anyway this Deepak fella said something about thinking why you're angry with a person. Only after reading that did I realize I'd been doing that all along, but subconsciously. And its because it was subconscious that it wasn't always effective, and I didn't always employ it. Now that I know, I'll give an example from mine treasure box of experience.
As usual, its a brother who is the Irritator. My brothers are really IRRITATING but I love 'em for it. What would life be without someone teasing and insulting and berating you at all the inappropriate times. No, really, whenever I'm not pissed at them, I'm glad they piss me off. So anyway on to the example:
Brother insults my character, linking it to my 'education' and school. Generalizes and describes how I fit in perfectly to the character of the Pompous, Stuck-up, Irritating Elitist Dipshit. I seethe with anger. Then POOF! I BECOME KOKO KRUNCH!
While Disengaged, I think: Wtf?! He doesn't even KNOW what he's talking about! Then I think some more: Wait a minute, he's saying this because he is angry, because of something I did or said. So he wants to exact revenge. He KNOWS enough of me, to know that such an insult would surely tick me off. So he employs his creative powers to conjure the most twisted and baseless remarks I wouldn't want to hear. He probably doesn't mean it, but is damn good at acting... as I've done so myself.
In conclusion, whut? Oh I'm back in my body. Reply time! Reply: oh ok. *laughs hysterically* *walks away* Yeah whatever.
Brother is silent for awhile. He'll sometimes try again, or give it up, but that's immaterial.
In other news I've been reading a bit more recently, and I'm disappointed to say I've only found crap. This Deepak Chopra book was intriguing at first, but then he went into all his cosmic bullshit and him knowing everything in this world - secrets and whatnot - and telling me stuff like: Dear rose, it is because of me that you have colour.
WTF?!
By extension, his reasoning does appear sound: Our sense organs detect shizz from the outside world, then sends chemical and electric signals to our body and brain, and the body reacts. The brain processes whatever it is it receives, and translates it into perception. But think about it, 'does a falling tree make a sound when nobody's around?'. That's what it sounds like to me.
And no, its not because of me the rose is red. Red is what we call that particular resultant form of perception. Colours and whatnot are a result of brain activity, which is based on information fed back from the sensory organs. The sensory organs collected that information from somewhere, which means it was already 'red'. To us at least. To an assumed Higher Being with More Than He Needs senses, the rose may not be 'red', instead C9823KJBivWikel. That being didn't make it so, its just how his body translates it. So its not ME who's the 'creator' here. So I guess that means the 'universe is not in me'.
From a religious standpoint: everything is possible only if Allah allows for it. The fact that I can see the rose is a blessing, that He has enabled me to see. That He has enabled me to perceive a colour. I am not part of the equation, really, just a by-product. But that doesn't mean I'm anything less than the flower! What you are in space or time is immaterial; what you are to HIM is what matters. Who cares if you're the centre of the universe or someone who finally understands and embraces the history and future of the cosmos.
There are ways to achieve spiritual harmony, peace and whatnot. But as far as I'm concerned, I have a religion which tells me all I need to know to be happy, so I follow what I'm taught. NOT FOLLOW BLINDLY, because we are required to think and reason.
Then there's this book Existential Phenomenology. I picked it out cos the name sounded complicated and I'd look smart reading it hahahahhaha. Well maybe, come to think of it. Anyway the topics of discourse were of some interest to me, so after perusing several pages, I took it home. Its only when I sat to read that I realized the bullshit was so damn well hidden.
These fellas use complicated words and sentence structures, weird-ass jargon and cleverly masked logical fallacies and assumptions to assert their points. I'm pretty sure there's some real quality stuff in other parts of the book, but really, I'm entirely unsure if I ever want to get back to it.
The funny thing is, while I questioned what I read, I began to doubt myself. I considered discussing my views with someone, but this is what ran through my mind: No one at home gives a shit about this kinda crap, and they're too busy anyway. It would be impossible to get anyone to sit and read with me, think about it, then critique what I have to say about the book.
But if I turn to my many friends of greater mental calibre, I'm so afraid of being mocked! I'm somehow under the impression that my faculty of reasoning/logic isn't sufficiently fine-tuned to be able to differentiate the Crap Logic from the Mother Complicated Till It Sounds Crap logic. Its how you'd react and think of him when your four year old sibling/cousin/child comes up to you and says he's just figured out how to get a six-pack, by swallowing durian seeds (at one point I was convinced that's how they did it).
[01/10/11 EDIT: Removed picture of faceless bodybuilder]
(Someday, that guy in the photo is gonna have a photo of my body in his computer hahahahhaha. Shit that sounds so fag.)
I've not searched and read enough, but at this point I've seen two types of books:
1) The kind that tells you the really important things, but most of which is common sense, or instinctive. It might just be me, and if that's so, I'm thoroughly grateful. 2) The kind that claims to explore the deeper end of things, but end up only going deep up your ASS. Yah, like a pain in the ass; makes you think and feel a lot but gets you nowhere. That's what those fellas like to do, appeal to your emotions and ask you to 'try this' try that.
Sidetrack: Pain in the ass? Makes you think? Yes it would. You'd think, 'where the *@&! is the pain coming from?! What the hell's going on up there! Down there! ARAKNOW! ARGH!
A lot of times when I sit to read, I start to feel sleepy. I coulda sworn I was cross-eyed at the library just now. This is what its like: read, read, rrrrreeeaaaaddddd, whoa blurrryyyy... WHOA! nearly closed mine eyes... rrreeeaaadddd...*SHAKES HEAD*. Read, read, rrread, rrrrrreeeeee- *mentwl child comes screaming into library* Being on task, the librarian is quick to act: the 'The library is meant to be a conducive place' UNNECESSARILY LENGTHY announcement plays, followed by the UNNECESSARY chime of a digital bell. EVERYTHING: TWICE. REALLY. WHY.
Dear librarian, I frequent your library. Sometimes people make noise. But it gets really stupid when your damn recording plays every so often. Try Tasers, they work great.
Love, Me.
I think that's about it. I'm hungry and my eyes kinda hurt and I gotta sleep. Why do I feel like sighing? NO! SUPPRESS! REPRESS AND OPPRESS! Undress Impress Compress - holy shit that was unknowingly innuendo-ish. This boy must now sleep.
So remember folks, postage is Post Age. Don't think nibbling on food every now and then will satisfy your rumbling stomach; EAT, for God's sake. You'll only get fat if you think fat and live fat. Think about fthat. Hah. Hahahahahaha. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHA
[01/10/11 EDIT: Removed photo of me making a mounstar face, hands and face dirty with chocolate]
That was just so you won't be able to sleep for a few nights. Omg its 3:33 now. That's, like, half of 666. Which means...! ITS LATE. TILL NEXT TIME.
Anti Sugar Society: How Our Livers Extract Substances
In the later half of today's episode, I will be talking about my... insecurities! Oh, but what! YES! INCREDIBLE!
Well helLOO there, its 3:46 am and I've just begun writing. I know its late Ma, please just give me awhile. Aaaaanyway, I was walking from the mosque, to the library, when my path was blocked by a bunch of small boys. Little kids. Wee laddies, off ter sumwhere else, bu' had ta walk along tha same paaath. I wasn't in a hurry so I didn't overtake. Instead I eavesdropped... but they were talking so loudly I couldn't help myself.
They were having a helluva time and laughing at the stupidest of things. I quote, 'ya I cut my hair. One hair!' 'HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA! I quote again: 'Show them the, the hair! The... the DNA!' And again, laughter. Those kids didn't have to make sexual references, use irony or try to act smart, yet they were happy as hell. Not that I'm implying hell is happy, you know... just that... well...
I went on to judge them. 'They are really young, so they're probably not as intelligent as... us. Yet, at least. And because of that, everything is happy-ing for them.' Which made me think... what's the trade-off when we grow up? Intelligence for happiness? The more we know, the less we'll find DNA jokes highly amusing. Or think that cutting one strand of hair is truly epic. I will not elaborate because YOU get what I'm saying. 'Nuff said. Point made. Booyah.
In other news this video made me laugh a lot, I nearly cried, I couldn't breathe, and the world went bright for awhile. Then I could breathe again, so I watched it a second time. I didn't laugh anymore, and that left me sad...
I hope you liked it because HOPE. Is What We Have. I tried the Avatar game demo and I must say. Destroying a planet never felt so good. Shooting at plants just so they'll explode and release copious amounts of stuff, hearing that squelch, and then getting XP for Total Destruction... life doesn't get much better. I now know why people go to war, make countries go to war, and why Pandora was attacked like it was. It just feels so good. Until you lose a limb or someone you love, then it ain't shit no more. Then it gets SERIOUS and people start getting emotional. So let's leave the warring for the games, eh people? You fat asses behind the wars don't know shit... Don't. Know. Shit. About shit. NEXT.
I still maintain that I enjoy hanging out with me most, and I'm still glad that I'm my best friend. But I'm also glad to have one other thing (amongst many other things) - a place to write. Because you, oh blank sheet of paper, oh internet site... you don't just listen to me. You internalize everything I want to say. This definitely beats talking to someone. Because talking to people can get frustrating, at least for me. I've got a TON of things to say and share, but no one in their right mind would wanna sit down and hear me out. In fact it wouldn't even happen that way; I'd burst out in speech every now and then, and I'm sure that's a lot to handle when you've got better things to do. Maybe that's why I talk to myself a lot... I don't know. OR DO I.
Its also the reason why I like quiet time, like now. Everyone's asleep, all I hear is myself. This is when I think, create, discuss, and socialize with myself. Its when I feel at peace, and I know that no matter what, no matter WHAT, I will listen to myself. I've tried not doing that, but its just too hard to. I can't bear letting me talk to no one, its just so wrong!
And the greatest part of writing, like this blog, is that people, whom I have substituted with my writing avenues, have full autonomy over what they take in. Bored? Scram. Like it? Eventually scram. Didn't understand something? Read it again, maybe ask me. Then scram. Ble your eggs. Add some pepper. Just a little bit of salt. Too little sodium can cause problems too.
AND NOW, ladies and gentlemen, I will reveal to you my *drumroll* deepest insecurities! Ex-insecurities, because I have overcome them. I polarized my choizes. Do YOU know what I'm insecure about? Ever made a guess? Well I'll tell you anyway. (By the way, the first photo of the post, was automatically auraticized. I didn't even plan on it, it just happened. Life is mYstErIOUs...)
Its all about my face. The most obvious being my nose. I mean come on, you'd have to be blind not to notice it from a mile off. Or a couple. You know when I was still in my mother's womb, they did that scan thing, and the prominent features they identified were my nose and my ears. Satellite ears, that's what I call 'em. And proudly too! I hear virtually EVERYTHING, and it sometimes creeps my family out.
But I digress! Relatives testify that I was born ugly. Brown, shrivelled, with an elongated head. Soooomething like that. I was vacuumed out, see. So my head kinda, lengthened. Maybe that explains my intelligence!- or lack of. MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.
So anyway I've been told how ugly I was when I was born, and how people prayed a lot that I'd change. I'm not kidding. It must've been that horrible. Not ugly like deformed or monster, but the mehhhhhhhhHHHHHHH kinda ugly I think. I don't know, they hadn't invented mirrors back then.
Strange thing the early days were fine, I wasn't bothered about shit. Even in sec 2, when I was a pathetic little Indian boy running around in shorts too loose and shoes so uncool, I didn't give half a shit. But later on, I started becoming aware of this thing on my body... this thing that had been there for so long, yet only now I had begun to place importance in it- wait a minute. ARE YOU THINK- OH MY GOD, how COULD YOU?! So ANYWAY *glares rudely at pervert* *ie. you* *or not* its only in Sec 3-ish that I started paying attention to how I looked. And I realized I didn't quite like it. I'll talk about them features, in no order of realization.
My nose. For years I've been blowing my nose, and snivelling and experienced stuffiness, so that's all I knew it for. Then one day I kinda realized that it was, put shortly, big. And! People helped by pointing it out. 'Eh Fawaz your nose damn big sia'
'How did you know I'm Indian?' 'Your nose ah. Damn big sia'
I laugh now, but back then, I slowly began feeling hurt. Its on my bloody face and I can't hide it, you GOTTA notice it if you wanna talk to me, and I can't do shit about it! That's what I kinda thought. And for so long I felt conscious about my nose, always guessing what people thought when they looked at me. Family and relatives always called me handsome; after long periods of not meeting, they'd gush over how handsome I am. Big boy already, so tall, so handsome! Well, handsome or 'handsome' or hand some. Hand some of that paper over so I can make a mask for you. I even started thinking that they were just being polite. My mother always had nice things to say, but that's the point! She's my mother! She loves me to no end, and loves me for whatever the heck I am or am not.
So I got sad at times. I stared at the mirror a lot, for several reasons. To look at my body, to check out my hair (and not comb it. Wouldn't help much anyway), and to see how best to angle myself such that my nose would appear normal. It really began to bother me and I think that's how I started avoiding taking photos. I never liked photos, the flash and the whatever, I just never liked 'em, but now I had a reason not to like. I was convinced I was ugly, and looked uglier in photos. Maybe its my skin colour or perpetually imperfect lighting, but whenever I looked at photos of me, I only saw my nose.
Think back, recall all the photoshopped photos phoph phme. They all have little or no nose. The voldemort one was an honest experiment to see how I'd look... if I were to have my nose removed. I kinda thought it'd be cool walking around like that. Buuuuut I think that was never a good plan to begin with.
And then came the problem of my teeth. They were never bad, but after so many adult teeth, there just wasn't room. So my teeth got crammed outwards, leading to my overbite. And for some reason, the two front teeth liked my lips a lot. They stuck out, especially the right one... and again, the only other thing I noticed in my photos. And reflections. And when I smiled. And when I talked.
I went to a dentist to get it fixed, but when he told me the cost, my parents and I were like 'oh ok forget it'. What's the cost? Four teeth from my upper row alone. FOUR! TEETH! WtF! And she hadn't even gone to the lower teeth; they were crowded too, but not too much. I still think four teeth is too many. I need my teeth. I LOVE my teeth; how am I gonna get all the protein I need if I can't chew for shit? It won't feel right!
Then my eyebrows! I have a heck of a unibrow and was surprised when some people noticed only after years. Maybe you haven't, meaning you'll take the opportunity of our next meeting to stare. Thanks. You're welcome. And! Muslims can't remove their eyebrows. So no threading or brow burning for me.
All these things were playing in my subconscious AND not-so-sub conscious for a looong time. And I realized it was time to stop. Since I'm changing so much now anyway, why not! And instead of telling myself 'oh look, there are people who are much worse off, so be thankful!', I chose a different route. This:
Better to be noticed or remembered for a big nose than nothing at all. I like attention and being famous and ruling the world, see. And, its so true then when people get to know you and like you for who you are, what you look like becomes irrelevant. Arbitrary. I testify to that because my friends are perfect in mine eyes. Also, whatever God gives us, is for a reason. Be happy, dammit! Not to forget, you are whatever the heck you wanna be. Carry yourself well and shine from the inside, and people will think you're beautiful. NOT THAT I WANT PEOPLE TO CALL ME BEAUTIFUL. Figure of thpeach. Lastly, it doesn't matter if I'm oddly proportioned, or have strange features or whatever; people can tease all they want, but if they really mean it, then they're really dumb. It makes everything a lot easier: I know who the idiots are, who to stay away from. Not worth the time.
In celebration of my newfound confidence and comfortabilitization of myself, I'm posting pictures of me. Feels so camwhorish but its the intention that counts. I was exploring facial expressions, as my captions will explain:
A decent view of my Magnum Lashes. And some back. Yeahhhh, backkk WOOHOO!
Its really still about the back.
I tried to do a Mr Bean but it didn't turn out quite right.
So I did a two-face thing instead. Not too two, but half two. Still more than 1.
This is for all the girls who make that irritating face when its photo time. Also, you might wanna look at the clock at the back. That pink bottle is my powdery escape for when its late and I feel like bathing but don't wanna get wet.
I thought we needed a little manliness to compensate for the previous photo.
I didn't want to sleep so late but now its 5:17. I don't wanna get 'depressed'! Ma said I can get depression if I sleep late. I won't even begin to protest because you NEVER talk like that about what a mother says. They've got this hidden power that they're not telling us about, and I wanna stay on their good side. Mak's good side at least.
And just now, I was trying to nail a handstand. Bapak came out, and said 'Eh careful lah there's glass' Referring to the balcony door a 1m+ away from me. I kinda laughed, thinking it was a joke. Then later he shouted at me again, like really HOI! kinda shout, because he was afraid I'd break the glass. I was a good 2m away, 1.75m tall, and didn't plan on an unplanned front flip. So, uh, thanks for the concern?
Keep the simple carbs and sugars low people, we don't want an insulin party. Keep healthy and stay happy, you wanna live long enough to see flying cars doncha. La'er.
