The Natural Tendency For Wires To Tangle

It felt so natural, didn't it? I mean, I wasn't the one who started it, but my reaction just felt so... Natural. The whole spontaneity of it was just... Incredible.

It was torturing that after that I had to wait for the next time. And I'm still waiting. It won't be long before soon. Isn't that from Maroon 5 or something? I'm not sure. It might be. Or something like it.

I'm supposed to do a lot of reading and listening during the holidays for my English, and especially revision for my Chemistry retakes and Maths C4 exams. But no. I'm not in the mood. Hahaha. Ho. I'll start soon. It's Christmas eve. Relax. Chill. Chillax. Rechill.

Don't tell anyone, but I haven't paid for my stay here :P

Signing out

Over and out

When The Waves Scare Us

I'm in Venice right now, and I'm enjoying it. The rest have gone out shopping today, so in order to keep myself from spending, I've stayed in the apartment.

I haven't got much to say, really. Just that I like it here.

I like this.

Signing out

Over and out

Narrow Streets

I'm walking through the streets of Venice, along the riverbank, overseeing the gondolas. And then I see a bridge.

The bridge is larger than the other bridges. But that might just be because I haven't seen all the bridges in Venice.

I don't know.

I have never been to Venice before.

The wind is cold. The sun is shining. The streets are narrow.

And then I realise, we're stuck here for another three days.

Words Don't Quite Say

I found the answers
Underneath the stack of pillows
You smiled when I asked you
About what you said just now
And I couldn't help but wonder
If it was nothing after all


Let me finish those unfinished words
I will try and say them for you


In the darkness the whispers reverberate
Under the sheets hundreds of miles away
The words don't quite flow but
That's good enough for us, tonight


I found the answer
In one of our late night conversations
You wondered if I laughed at you
For what you said just now
And I couldn't help but smile
As if it was nothing after all


Let me finish those unfinished words
I will try and say them for you


In the darkness the whispers reverberate
Under the sheets hundreds of miles away
The words don't quite flow but
That's good enough for us, tonight


*****


Signing out


Over and out

The Mighty Warlord Wants To Speak With You

It's end of term, which means the troublesome end-of-term packing is in order. And this of course involves the messy ordeal of trying to cram everything under the bed and make as though not a soul is living in your room. As fun as this sounds (haha), I had to take a rest, and get some thoughts onto my blog.

I've got a new neighbour, and to welcome him, I've put my music on very, very, very loudly. And I'm planning to do this until late. He is none other than the infamous Alan Lau, who had come up with the brilliant question of 'how would you feel if you wake up with only one testicle?' in the middle of our mock European conference. He has also enlightened us with facts like most Australians are Germans, Brunei don't have running water, and charity is evil.

From one genius, to another in the form of George W. Bush. I find his pearls of wisdom too enticing and enlightening. Here are some that I hope you'd find incredibly inspiring:

"You know, one of the hardest part of my job is to connect Iraq to the war on terror"

"I can only speak to myself"

"It's in our country's interests to find those who would do harm to us and get them out of harm's way"

I've got a poster on my wall quoting more from - as Borat calls him - the Mighty Warlord. Never fails to brighten up my day.

Michaelmas term is almost over. I wanna get out of this place for four weeks. Oh wait, I am.

Signing out

Over and out

Scherezade In The Night

I'm in the writing mood at the moment. Currently I'm writing a story about relationships. No, it's not a typical romance story. If you've read my other stories, this is pretty much like those ones. Most of them are united in terms of time, usually the timeline not exceeding a few hours. The concept for the story, I think, is very good. The tentative title for it is called 'Stages.' I think from the title you could guess it's about stages in a relationship.

I've never been quite excited writing a shory story like I do with this one. Maybe it is because this is the first time that I've started writing a story with an idea beforehand, rather than starting with a random word and let my fingers take me where the story should go. I've even post-poned doing my English essay last night for a few hours (which was due earlier today) just to write the story.

We all see stories everyday. But it takes some effort just to put pen on paper, I guess. Or rather, finger on keyboard.

Signing out

Over and out

Two Hundred And Fifty Reasons

I was expecting a half-asleep day today, considering that I got back from London at around midnight (five fuckin' hours to get back last night), that I barely had any sleep the day before, and that we were basically standing for four hours doing nothing in the meet-and-greet.

But then, things are looking up. For my double english, I only had ten minutes till my teacher decided to let us go because too many of us were off to interviews. So today, I only have a grand total of two lessons. My other English lesson with Doc Law might still be a beef, since we finished Shakespeare for the term. And I've got 1st Leagues to look forward to this afternoon.

But I still have this minor headache that's ever-present. Sometimes it just manages to take my attention away from what I was doing, and for about a minute I'd just be totally detached from everything.

I've got an e-mail from UCL asking me to write two essays for them by next week. It's a particularly hard essay, but I've got such a busy schedule this week, I probably can only start once the holidays start, which is this friday. I'm still partial to whether I'm gonna go to Christmas school dinner. It should be worth going, but...

I need this holiday really bad.

Signing out

Over and out

The Simplest Orchestra And Its Eleven Symphonies

I'm not happy. I'm not in the 1st House team. I had a great 1st Leagues game against Ingram's yesterday. I made a few absolutely amazing tackles. Most were when the opposition were just about to pull the trigger. I deserve to be in that team. Instea I'll be the linesman. And in 2nd House, like last year.

Oh well.

The game against Ingram's was a mixed one. We won convincingly, 4-2. But Munches got injured. two broken ribs and a punctured lung. I really hope he recovers soon. And the most gruesome thing was, because he was asthmaetic, the surgeons had to operate on him without any anaesthetics. How fucking painful does that sound?

Everyone at first wanted him to get back and play keeper for 1st House, but I don't think anyone is that selfish to not let him take his time to recover. He's not gonna be back for the term. We all feel bad for him.

Not a very interesting Sunday today.

Signing out

Over and out

Belief In The One True Tyrant

Here's a photo of Clive's knee being all fucked up. He injured it while playing with one of those bouncy spring stilts thingies. I don't know what they're called.

It's pretty disgusting up close. You could see how swollen the knee is.

I don't really have much to blog about, except that I got my second offer, from Royal Holloway.

Signing out

Over and out

This Ride Is For All Ages

After Warwick's most anti-climactic e-mail (we will consider your application after blah de blah...), I was feeling a bit wary of the UCAS e-mail I got last night when I was in Headington. Urm, yes. I was in Farah's school :D It was a surprise visit, and I spent a few hours there going around the school. I even had supper in their dining hall. It did feel extremely weird being the only guy. And oh, I happened to be in the same room as Emma Watson and did not fucking notice her until Farah pointed it out much, much later. Hahahahahahaha.

Anyways, what I wanted to talk about was that I got an offer from York last night. My first offer so far, and it's not bad. The grades are ABB, and it says nothing about getting an A for English, which is a bit of a relief.

By the way, I'm staying at Hanif's place at the moment, and I've got his place all to myself for the night because he's gone to London. Hahahaha. Oxford is too claustrophobic for me. It just feels so gloomy and... Enclosed... Maybe it's because it's winter, and maybe it's because I'm so used to the wide open spaces in Shrewsbury.

I woke up at 6am. I hate it when I wake up early during the holidays. Usually I just grab some breakfast and then go back to sleep, but I've decided against it this morning. One, because I don't fucking know where I can buy anything at 6:34am in the morning. I know there's a Sainsbury's somewhere, but it's not exactly next door.

I'm tired.

Signing out

Over and out

The Sun Thought I Had Something To Do With It

I don't know why I'm having trouble uploading this year's house singing videos. It's a shame too. The singing is brilliant. I'll try again soon.

Anyways, life has been not too bad in Shrewsbury, but it's getting a bit too frosty at the moment. We've been reaching the minuses in terms of temperature for the past few mornings and nights. It's bloody fucking cold, and I've abandoned my flip-flops and three-quarters because it's fucking freezing. I need to buy gloves. Red gloves.

I'm going to Oxford tomorrow, right after breakfast. Risky move, since it's almost certainly flippin' chilly. And oh, for the past few days, the hot showers are - simply put - not hot at all. Imagine, coming back from a hard-fought match against the staff, the horror of having a cold shower. Fucking outrage, I tell you.

And oh, what a match we had against Ridgemount. We were 3-0 down at one stage, but we managed to win 6-5, yours truly scoring the final equaliser in the last ten minutes, minutes before our winner. Of course, Ridgemount were taking the piss, to be honest. And it didn't help that some of our players had already given up by the third goal.

I need to get out of here for a few days. Oh, wait. Tomorrow is coach weekend. Yippee.

Signing out

Over and out

Zero To Twenty With An Overnight Conversion

I don't know why I get depressed over the fact that I've turned twenty. Maybe it's because in school I'm two or three years older than everyone else. Maybe it's the fact that by definition, I'm not a teenager anymore. Or maybe I think suddenly being in the twenties makes me think that I might just have to grow up a little bit and make more effort for the future.

Whatever it is, I still had a great 20th birthday.

It was a surprise as well, because as much as they love me (hahaha), I don't think they'd travel all the way to isolated Shrewsbury just so they could celebrate it. But they did. Thanks Farah, Adeylah, Desiree, Kimy, Adi and Ajeeratul for coming. And also for the Shrewsbury guys, Kamillin, Adry, Mubin, Wafi and Chiao, for well, being in Shrewsbury anyways. Hahahaha.

If you wanna see the photos from that day, click here for my album, and click here for Farah's.

I thought that Saturday (we celebrated a day late) would have no more surprises after the Headington girls and the Oswestry girls left, but I was wrong.



I had joked with my housemates (Geo specifically) that for my birthday he was supposed to get me 52 virgins, one for every week of the year. This is kinda an ongoing joke, this whole virgin thing. Don't worry about the details. Hahaha.

Anyways, what they did was, right after we left my room to go to Ridgemount, Geo covered everything in my room with as many red bedsheets as he could find, and he also covered my light with the bedsheet, so it had this really creepy red light effect. In the photo, you can't see it because I took it off, and I had cleared some of it up. And what else, he spent a good half an hour sticking 52 photocopied photos of Sir Richard Branson, the CEO of Virgin. Quite clever, I think. Hahahaha.



Being used to this kind of stuff from Geo, the first thing I said was 'that's actually really cool.' I wasn't angry or anything. I guess it was too good a day for me to actually mind a little prank. Then again, it's a chance for me to totally get back at him.

Oh, well. Surprises, surprises. You could never get enough of them.

Signing out

Over and out

Go Across The Pond Over The Shark

So, today I'm twenty years and one day old. Thanks to everyone who greeted me, texted me, wrote on my Facebook wall, my Multiply guestbook and my Friendster. Although nothing especially big happened yesterday, the sheer number of greetings really cheered me up.

Probably the one that struck me most was my little sister's text:

"Happy birthday to you,abg mujahid.diah"

That simple little sentence made me realise how much I miss her so much. And my little baby sister. And my other siblings.

I've actually got more to blog about, but I haven't got much time till next lesson.

Signing out

Ove and out

Killing In The Name Of Rage

I fucked up. I know I fucking did. Fuck. I don't know what to do.

Am I supposed to be here? Now?

Shit. I'm fucking confused.

I'm pathetic, aren't I?

But then... No. It can't be. It shouldn't be. It couldn't. It's fucking impossible, that's what it is. Nothing more than imagined wishes and dreams. Nothing short of fucking pathetic.

You're a cunt, you know that? You fucking, little cunt, that's what you are. Oh, don't start on me, you piece of shit. I know who you are. You're the fucking motherfucker, that's who you fucking are. Stop denying it, horse-shit.

You piece of hypocritical fuck-bag. Yes, a fuck-bag. You're a bag full of fuck. And shit. And useless little ideas about everyone, thinking you know better. Look at that smug face of yours. No, don't say a fucking word. You don't deserve a say in this. You are merely a cold, hard piece of shit, trampled by passers-by.

You're god-damn right I'm fucking angry. What made you realise that? My obsessive swearing? My irritated tone of voice? Huh? Is is that so fucking obvious?

-------------------------------------------------

Don't mind me. Just venting out some anger. Not particularly directed at anyone. Just ranting out. Gotta clear my mind.

Signing out

Over and out

To The Fields, The Stars Are Falling

I was reading Dae's blog, and yes, I guess everyone can relate to that sense of having to meet high expectations and work hard at this stage of your life. I may not be a hardworker, but I really take my English very seriously.

Now I'm supposed to spend over six hours on just one essay (1000-1500 words). And there's about an essay every week. I've put in so much work into these essays. I've read tonnes of critics, analysis and contextual history, just to be given a C or D for my efforts. For my first essay, I borrowed five books from the library for research. It's stupidly tough. I don't think I'm suited to hard work. Or for that matter, hours upon hours of research. I know that this will ultimately prepare me for university, but jeez.

I did so well last year. I got two A's and a B for my three English modules, and for Shakespeare, I got full marks. But that didn't involve much inout of contextual history and opinions of other critics. Most of it was your own critical analysis. This year, you have to be bothered with other critics. And oh, the context. Oh jeez. Suddenly I have to learn about Arminianism, Anti-Trinitarianism, radical puritanical movements, and other multi-syllabled words and phrases that are actually more complicated than they sound, which is saying something.

I need a break. I really do. I'm not used to all this hard work. Hahahaha.

Admittedly, my timetable is quite relaxed. I've got about 12 PRs a week, and Chemistry and Maths are beef subjects. At least for me anyway. They're subjects that can be revised and learned at the last minute. Not a good habit, but it usually works for me. That is, when I'm in a working mood, which admittedly, is rare.

Signing out

Over and out

One Over The Other We'll Rush To The Suburbs

I had a good weekend overall. I went with the Shrewsbury Brunei Posse (hahaha) to Cineworld, to watch '30 Days Of Night,' which was a decent enough action/horror film. And guess what I found next to the cinema in place of Burger King?

Nando's! Hahaha. Admittedly I don't eat chicken, but I love the Peri-Peri sauce, and they have some decent vegetarian options there. And I'm a sucker for bottomless drinks. Ashamedly, I like the music they play in the background, be it portuguese or latino or whatever. Heh. There're more reasons for the Oswestry girls (and guy) to come to Shrewsbury every weekend :) Hahaha. Ho.

In the evening, I had to go to the Sydney Carton Society meeting at Rigg's Hall. Yes, it does sound kinda posh, but trust me, it's not. Well, maybe. A little bit. I guess a bunch of people sitting down sipping red wine while talking about novelists and their writing styles is kinda posh, isn't it? Of course, throughout the whole meeting, I didn't have much to say at all. These other guys are heavyweights compared to me. It's amazing how much they can say about a novelist just after five minutes of reading a page. I can barely speak up after reading a whole book.

I guess I'm gonna have to do more next session. Apparently we're supposed to write our own 8000-words stories, and by the end it will all be published, in one form or another. Quite excited about that. That is of course, if I can bother to write anything even at all close to that.

I need to go. I've got a double PR, and I'm not gonna waste it on Multiply. I might as well play FM and get Brunei to win the 2014 World Cup. Only in games. Only in games, unfortunately.

Signing out

Over and out

From Conversations We Fall Again

It's the weeked. :D I love Fridays and Saturdays, when it comes to school. I only have a total of 5 5 out of a maximum of 12 lessons in the two days. It's awesome. I can lie in until 10am, take a quick shower, and go to lessons at 10.25am. I love the weekend.

We played 1st Leagues yesterday. It was my first full 1st Leagues match since Ramadhan. Usually I came off at half-time, because they knew I was fasting. Now I get to play the whole thing. Whooppi-doo. Even though we played well, we lost to Ridgemount 2-1, because of the fuck-all last-minute from-2-yards-out goal. Oh well.

The first week of school after half-term has been a great one so far. I'm really enjoying myself. And next week I'm turning 20. Oh jeez. Hahahahaha.

I am thinking of buying myself a watch for my birthday (yes, sounds kinda sad) after I lost my Swatch Irony during half-term. I'm upset about losing it, but I'm over it now. I really needed a new one anyway. I'm thinking something like a D&G or one of those weird binary watches. I don't know yet.

Oh jeez.

Signing out

Over and out

To Us, This Is A Truthful Tragedy

I know everyone's sulking over the fact that half-term is over, and truth be told, I'm bummed out of my mind trying to figure out how the ten days went by so fast. Damn it, it was a good half-term.

So many things happened.Urggh, I don't even know where to start.

I went to Cardiff for my cousin's 22nd birthday bash. That was awesome. Made some new friends, and had some crazy moments that was unforgettable. Hahaha. Mel, if you're reading this, thanks for inviting me :D And wow, Eric. I know you're not gonna read this, so god damn you, you lucky bastard :P

The next day we had to go to the Dorchester hotel for the BSUnion Raya thing, which wasn't too bad. I won a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates for answering the quiz, which got wiped clean before I even got on the bus.

Deylah and Desiree were two people I spent much more time together than I would have thought. Never mind they called me Mu Mu (huh?) most of the time. Hahaha. We stayed up late doing practically nothing telling each other we should go to sleep. That was stupid, I guess :P And oh, when Farah wasn't in London, Deylah was my Sainsbury companion. Hahahaha.

I'll post some pictures of half-term soon. Wait for it.

Signing out

Over and out

'Twas The Night Of Choruses

I'm pissed off. Ask me why I'm pissed off. Because we came second in house singing. Second to the fucking Grove. We were really the bomb. The part song was brilliant. The unison song was brilliant. We got the largest applause. Like Mr Vicars said, we were fucking robbed.

But getting second isn't that bad, I guess. Out of eleven houses, second is pretty impressive. Too bad I won't be there next year.

Off to London today. Nothing to look forward to, to be honest, except a week's rest. And oh, three English essays to do. Heh. So much for recreation and relaxation.

Signing out

Over and out

Ironies In Indefinite Intervals

She sees it. The swirl of colours, just above her, strokes of bold, primary tones. It is only a dream, she assures herself. Yet she has never felt anything so real before. The way the gust of wind just brush past her. The blinding explosion of colours. And the sheer confusion of it all.

This is one of those 'real' dreams, she says to herself. It is a dream. It must be.

What else can it be?

The ground shakes and trembles as suddenly a ball of light crashes onto the earth. The trees shiver in terror and the birds leave their nests in fright as more descended from the sky. The surface crumbles into pieces, cracks travelling from one end of the horizon to the other. The sky grew darker as the light fade and descend into destruction.

In horror she retreats under a fallen tree which has been overgrown with mushrooms. Cowering, she starts praying for her life, wishing to herself this is just a nightmare.

Now she waits for the chaos to stop. She waits and she waits, but the longer she does, the more violent the tremors become, and as the sky turns into complete darkness, she cries herself to sleep, the ground still shaking, and the light and the colours no longer there.

------------------------------------------

It's half-term. Well, almost. Still have two(-ish) kessons to go, and house-singing to go to. For unison we're doing four songs from Les Miserables, and for the part song we're doing Bohemian Rhapsody, which looks and sounds absolutely incredible. Our unison isn't bad either. The sheer energy and volume, and the pace of the piano and the urgency of the voices. I think we're in for a chance for top spot.

Tomorrow we're going to London. Looking forward to that. Looks like I'm not going to Manchester to see Capdown after all. Oh well. I didn't get a ticket for the Dorchester raya thing, and I'm quite pissed off. Well, not really, but just a little bit disappointed. One thing left to do is go to my cousin's 22nd birthday in Cardiff. That is if I still have enough dosh by then. Heh.

Signing out

Over and out

Underneath The Overwhelming Arching Skies

I'm in London for the weekend, and oh, for Raya. Even though I had fun the first day, I haven't exactly felt the 'true' spirit of this whole Raya thing. I don't think I've ever felt that.

Fuck it. At the end of the day I don't think it felt any different from any day, except that there's more people here, and everyone's dressed up, and there's free food. Not that the food applies to me. The food at the High Commission was all prepared for carnivores. Meat, chicken, mutton.. What can a vegetarian like me do beside wait till it's all over and go to Subway and get a veggie patty? Haha.

I think I might need to fall in love all over again. Haha. Ha. That's what I need to cheer myself up :P I've been sinking in and out of my nihilism more frequently at the moment. The only thing keeping me sane is the crazy things I get to do with my housemates night in and night out. Random, pointless things. It's ironic that to forget that life is pointless is by doing completely pointless acts of stupidity.

Irony is the word of my life. Irony and contradiction, to be exact. And sometimes incoherence. I often find myself being unable to articulate my thoughts, to words and writing. It's so fucking frustrating.

Signing out

Over and out

The Dead Live By Love

We went to Alton Towers yesterday. And by hell, it was awesome. Of course, let's be honest, some of the rides reminded me of Jerudong Park. Hahaha. But rides like Oblivion, Ripsaw and Air made the difference. And the sheer size of the place.

Aside from Ripsaw and Submission, I thought Disneyland had similar but better rides. Rita: Queen Of Speed was similar to Aerosmith Rock 'n Roll in that they started from a stand still to a big tub of speed, but Rock 'n Roll was longer, and it was dark and a lot more twists and turns. Oh well. I shouldn't really compare it to Disneyland. I had fun on them. I really did.

Adry, Mubin and Chiao also went with us on the same bus, but we didn't go on the rides together. I went with my own housemates, Loco, Fudge and Clive. We felt sorry for leaving Yang Lan with Lauitt, but really, if you know Lauitt, you don't want him following you around at Alton Towers where we're supposed to have fun.

Anyways, I gotta go.

Signing out

Over and out

P.S. The title is from an album from Mendeed

Other Lives In Separate Times

I watched ‘I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry’ last night. I half-expected this to be purely making fun of homosexuality, but I was pleasantly surprised. Instead it presented a strong stance against homophobia, and how gays are constantly being discriminated purely because of their sexuality.

If we are not treated with the prior knowledge of the two main characters, Chuck & Larry, are straight, then the two are really believable as gay partners. There is chemistry between the two, and even though most of it is rooted in their long-standing friendship, it makes a case of how two men can fall in love with each other.

As the movie develops, the characters develop. Sandler (Chuck) transitions from being a homophobic, sexist playboy to a sensitive, thoughtful supporter of gay rights. James (Larry) changes from the mournful widower who doesn’t appreciate his son’s artistic side to being ready to move on and acknowledge that there’s more to growing up than just doing sports. It’s endearing that Chuck’s children stand by his side, even when other kids call their dad(s) 'faggots.' Note: The accepted vernacular is gay.

The scene when Larry reads his colleagues’ petition for the both of them to be transferred was especially poignant. If the friends you thought you knew for years abandon you just because of your sexuality, then you’ve gotta wonder if they were your friends to start with.

Throughout the whole movie, we are reminded of how absurd it is for people to dictate how people should live their lives and how their sexual orientation should be. The movie takes a satirical view on the evangelists, who try to shove their beliefs on other people.

The movie aside, I am against the homophobic disease. We are so obsessed with being disgusted over somebody else’s sexual orientation, we forget that the person is a human being too. We overlook the fact that the person might be a better human being than us. Ask yourself, if your friend who you’ve known suddenly comes out and say that he/she has been gay all these years, what would you do?

If that happened to me, I would shrug it off, saying that it’s no big deal, and that we’re still friends, no matter what. If you know me, you would’ve probably seen me joking that I was gay. This is because I resent homophobia, and I want to see other people’s reaction to a homosexual friend. I’m not gay, but I need to know that my friends will stick with me, no matter what my beliefs are. I remember a friend confessing that she might be bisexual, and I thought it was brave of her. Even though she never embraced her lesbian side, the fact that she was willing to discuss if she was, was endearing to me.

Many guys are hypocrites when it comes to homosexuality. They say they despise gays, but trust me, they wouldn’t think twice of watching a lesbian flick.

Even if you think homosexuality is a sin, that doesn’t necessarily make the person evil or immoral. That’s just one aspect of their lives. How do you know the person hasn’t contributed much more to the community than you? And how stupid is it to assume that homosexuals are always horny? Just because a guy is into guys doesn’t mean he’s a pervert who would grab another guy’s arse at the first opportunity.

Anyways, if you’re using religion to argue against homosexuality, forget it. Religion is supposed to be a personal experience. Not a reason to dictate how other people live. Like what the Quran said, ‘your religion is your religion, my religion is mine.’ We are not supposed to shove what we believe down into other people’s throats.

And don’t argue that homosexuality is immoral. From what point of view is it immoral? From a religious point of view, yes. But not everyone subscribe to religion. To the society? How is it that one’s sexuality that doesn’t affect other people’s lives at all immoral? And besides, outside religion, morality is subject to one’s opinions. One might think that society over individuality is the better moral guideline, and vice versa. We cannot decisively argue that any of the two is superior over the other.

Unnatural? On what basis? The fact that there are two distinct genders? We didn’t use to wear clothes. Isn’t nakedness supposed to be natural? We didn’t ride cars or buses. Isn’t walking supposed to be natural? Homosexuality has been around for so long. If you dig into literature, you’ll find traces of homoeroticism. You’ll find it (although obscure) in history books, in ancient Greece and other civilisations.

I hope the government doesn't find this particular blog entry. I think it doesn't help that my blog is listed in Simpur's site. Oh well. This is my honest opinion. I don't think it's too controversial, and I know many Bruneians share the same feeling, even the straight ones.

Signing out

Over and out

The Fall Of Ideals & Idealism

This is, I guess, some kind of response to Fee's blog. The insignificance of the human race or the individual.

I think both of them are ultimately insignificant. The universe is so much bigger than us. But my previous entry focused on the insignificance of the human race, rather than the individual. Think about it. We are one species that has popped up, depending on who you believe, from evolution or creation. Yes, we as a race has caused global warming, and that's been affecting the whole world. But on the long term, once we're long gone and extinct, the Earth will recover itself and stabilise. The Earth has been doing this for a long time. What we're doing is really extinguishing our own species, and even though in the short term the Earth will suffer, in the long run (in the scale of millions of years), any future intelligent beings will not see the mark of our existence on their very own ecosystem. Not significantly, anyways.

Religion has never been the moral guide for me. The moral guide for me was myself. I mean if you think the only thing stopping you from killing the guy beside you is religion, you've got issues. And besides, nihilism (the acceptance of one's insignificance) has not been the major cause of the world's wars and crimes. It has been the desire to BE significant. The Crusades was partly due to signify Christianity as a religion. So were any kind of religious wars. The Iraqi War was caused by Saddam's desire for significance and the US's desire to signify themselves and insignify the government. Racism cannot be blamed on nihilism. Racism itself is the attitude of feeling more significant on another race.

I don't know if I'm being coherent. I'm afraid to read it from the start. Hahahaha. I'll post it up before I read it.

Signing out

Over and out

Fascination And Its Consequences

Hahaha. This week has been the biggest lead of all the weeks so far. I've got to re-write my essay on 'Paradise Lost', which is about 1500 words, then write another essay for 'Death Of A Salesman', study for a Chemistry test, and finish writing up my personal statement. Not to be dramatic, but I wouldn't mind dropping dead and be reincarnated as a writer living in Paris.

But one thing struck me as quite funny today. We were giggling over some of the typing errors in the Maths text book when Mr Hayes (the most boring teacher to have ever been inflicted on mankind) said that all books had errors. Chapman quickly replied "What about the bible? I bet that has no errors in it." Then came the golden moment. James Higham rebutted, "the bible IS one big error." The whole set just burst into laughter, and Mr Hayes tried desperately (and vainly) to defend the bible.

Sorry if that was offensive. I'm simply recounting an event that happened :P

I guess I have always been fascinated by religion. Not just Islam, but all the major ones, and the not-so-major ones. It's not so much the rituals and the rules but the philosophy behind it, the reasoning, the logic, and the consequences. It's the ethical ramifications and the lengths people go to to convince themselves that they believe in this concept of organised religion that I'm interested in. My interest in literature was also inspired for my interest in the theological side of society, or rather the philosophy of it.

I've also been captivated by the parody religions that have sprung up over the years. It's sites of mock-religions like Pastafarianism, Googlism, The Invisible Pink Unicorn and Last Thursdayism that I go to time and time again for some kind of comic relief, and often intellectual content. I don't know. Atheism has it's charms.

I'm really looking forward to coach weekend. Although before that I have to get through one personal statement, two essays, and a test, possibly even two, all in the space of three days.

Signing out

Over and out

The Product Of Chance & Inevitability

We are insignificant. We are the product of the marriage of change and inevitability. We are merely here because we're here. We are nothing.

Our individual existences are meaningless. Our collective existence is also meaningless. We are nothing but absolutely nothing. Our goals in life are merely illusions to keep us content with being alive, rather than to be petrified by the fact that after all is taken into account, we are left with nothing, absolutely nothing.

On a happier note, we finished reading 'Death Of A Salesman' today. And so we got out of the lesson 20 minutes early. Waiting for the statistics lesson. Had a fun albeit unproductive weekend.

Signing out

Over and out

It Was The Day Of The Emancipation

No. Please. Don't give me hope. The last thing I need right now is false hope.

I am here again. Waiting. Are you waiting for me too? I don't know if you are. Should I know? I think I know you. But then everytime I think I know someone, that someone comes out with a surprise. Is that supposed to be normal? Or is it my tendency towards complacency?

Life is harsh. It's not the greatest thing in the world.

Am I making sense?

Am I?

I hope I'm not. I don't want to think myself as being too transparent.

Heh.

Signing out

Over and out

The Genre Of Comedy & Tragedy Juxtaposed

I feel a little tired today. Last night I got back to school from Stratford just after midnight, and damn, it was chilly. And today I've been filling in my free periods with work, specifically researching on Milton's Paradise Lost.

I really enjoyed going to see Twelfth Night last night. It was performed by The Royal Shakespeare Company at The Courtyard Theatre. It was the same place where I went to see The Seagull. The play itself was quite funny. I didn't know this play very well, and barely only knowing parts of the story just by listening to people talking about it. The whole thing was well-acted. I especially liked Feste. He could sing and play the piano so well. And he was so witty and funny. In hindsight, I think he's probably the most intelligent character in the whole play. As they say, it takes a genius to play a fool. The character of Malvolio was quite sad. At first you couldn't help but despise his up-tight, party-pooper attitude, but as the play goes on, you feel so sympathetic of him, and I guess serves as a reminder that not everyone can be happy in real life, or even in a comedy such as Twelfth Night.

One thing though. The whole play seems a little homoerotic. The character of Antonio was obviously in love with Sebastian. And Orsino still calls Viola by her 'male name', Cesario, even when she reveals she is not a man. So is Orsino in love with Viola, or is he in love with the male side of her, that of Cesario? I guess that's intentional of Shakespeare.

Paradise Lost is one hard poem. Just to do one essay, I'm supposed to read at least four critical books on him and his poem. I guess this is an early taste of how people work in universities. The thing is, I've got two days left till its due.

House Singing is coming soon. We're defending our title from last year. No idea yet what the unison song would be. But I'm sure Mike would do very well choosing the song and making us sing, since he did win the Best Composer (or something) award last year.

Anyways, off to the house and read some essays, then do mine.

Signing out

Over and out

An Honest Thought For A Coordinated Mess

After reading Dibs's blog, and her 'honest' personal statement, I thought I might write my own. Hahaha. Here goes:

Hey. I decided to take English Literature in your university because:

a) it's in London,

b) it's in London

c) if it's not in London, the grade requirements aren't that high.

To be honest, I don't know why I should be told how to feel when reading a novel/play/poem written by a guy who's been dead for a few hundred years now. I don't like all this formal bullshit telling you that you should appreciate this poem because it was this and that. Shut the fuck up. I'll appreciate it in my own way, you fucking moron.

And why the fuck am I taking a hard subject like English Literature when I could take something I could cruise in, like Maths? Oh, if it isn't the moneybags, our government. Thinking that just by getting more English teachers would solve the problem of Brunei people failing their English O'Levels, they gave me a chance to waste their money on taking a subject I'd sturggle in university in anyway.

So I was a Corporal in Army Cadets. So what? I did absolutely nought that's worth mentioning. Did it teach me leadership skills? Most of the time I was being shouted at and told to do push-ups. Yes, I was being led alright.

I'm pretty much skeptical about the idea of examinable and formal education. So fuck, I don't really have any reason to go to your university, except to wait for my ten-year teaching contract, and get loads of money saved to start my own media empire.

Please take me in to your university.

Much love.

Now Is The Time For A Resolving Revolution

Right now life as an upper-sixth at Severn Hill has been a crazy one. I guess the more we grow up, the more childish we want to become. We've been playing pranks and doing crazy stuff since the start of term. Of course the occasional throw-abouts after lunch are still there. That's a given. It's things like posting up directions to Lowcock's room on walls with sigs such as Cock-a-doodle-do, or Cock-a-shock, or sticking a piece of plasticine shaped like a part of the male anatomy on his door besides a sign that says Low, that makes all the hard work in lessons bearable. I tidied up my room yesterday, and Geo put up a sign on the back of my door that said 'Your room is too tidy. Sort it out. Nob.' Quite funny, I thought.

I stayed up for Sahur at around midnight last night, and woke up Mubin. We only had instant noodles cooked with a microwave oven, because we have no stove in the kitchen. And because of fasting, I didn't go to breakfast this morning, so I slept till 8.30, knowing full well I had a PR first lesson.

I feel like I really belong in Shrewsbury now. Most of the upper-sixth know me (even though admittedly I still struggle with their names). I don't have problems finding a table of people to sit with during lunch or tea like I did the first month last year. And other small things like that make for a very comfortable second year - so far.

I wanted to post a longer entry, but time doesn't permit. Chemistry in one minute.

Signing out

Over and out

Colours & Numbers Will Give You Wonders

So I haven't updated in a while, and by a while, it's actually just barely over a week. But yeah, this week has been a filled and busy one. My flight to London was alright. It was quite a coincidence that in the plane I sat next to another vegetarian, so it made me that bit more comfortable being in an enclosed space when I'm eating. Hahahaha. It turns out I was on the same flight with 15 new A-Level scholars. They were alright. I was careful not to act like the oldie in the group, although I did give them a few pointers when we got to Heathrow.

Anyways, so I spent the weekend (just the Saturday, really. Had to go back to school early Sunday) with my cousins, Nana (Mel) & Yayai (Mell), and their friends. Ate at Satay House, went to Trafalgar Square for the 'Disability Rights Festival', watched '1408' at Leicester Square. It was fun. Enjoyed my time with them. The three MJs in the UK. Hahahaha.

School's been great. My new Bruneian Severn Hill housemate, Mubin, is alright. He's great. Apparently I'm assigned by Mr. Vicars, our housemaster, to be his mentor. Oh well. I don't really mind. Football's been awesome. We beat Riggs 4-3 in 2nd Leagues, but lost 3-0 to School House in 1st Leagues. Not that we deserved the beating, although we didn't deserve to win either.

Oh, by the way, I'm so happy when I found out I got full marks for my Shakespeare module in AS English Literature. 90 out of 90. You can't see it, but I'm grinning my ass off. Heh. And oh, my brother is going to the UK, gonna study at Bedford School, where Eric and Onn are. Flight's this Sunday.

Signing out

Over and out

In Time The Inconsequentials Will Become The Inevitables

So tomorrow is my flight back to the UK, and my feelings are terribly mixed about it. On one hand, I can't help but feel I haven't spent enough time with all of my friends, especially Fee and Yumnie. On the other hand, I simply can't wait to go back.

So what has the first two months back to Brunei taught me? I'm not quite sure. A lot, yet so little at the same time.

Things change. People change. Unexpected new relationships blooming. Unexpected old relationships staying alive or breaking off. This side of the world has changed during my absence, and it feels weird. I'm not thinking country-wise. I mean my friends. It's strange to think that for the past ten months I haven't been directly a part of their lives, and they in mine.

It's unbelievably weird - and incredibly selfish of me - to see and feel envious that these people are doing well without me. Heh. I know. What did I expect. Not that I'm self-centred or anything. I think most would understand what I'm trying to say, rather than intepret it as self-centred.

It's raining planes and helicopters, and one of them is my flight HOME.

Signing out

Over and out

Two Afternoons Of Caffeine & Chocolate

I’ve been working for the British Council these last couple of days, and I enjoyed myself. Maybe I’ll do this again next year. Not to mention to get some extra money. Ahaha. Ha.

The Education UK exhibition was fun, even though I was just a promoter for the feedback survey. I was quite happy with myself, especially when we managed to overshoot the 250 mark by about 100 people. Nice touch. Apparently Bruneians like doing surveys. And oh, getting the free sports bottle that came along with filling them.

It’s amusing what people would do just to get a free souvenir. Some of these people weren’t even considering doing the survey, until I mentioned the free stuff. After that they didn’t even mind queuing up for up to twenty minutes just to fill in the computerised survey. But encouragingly, I must add, a lot of people said yes before even finding out we gave out these free metallic red cylinders of water-containing wonders.

And on Friday afternoon, I volunteered to help out with the pre-departure briefing by of course, the British Council. I was only expecting to be involved in the Q&A section of the whole thing, but Jances & I got asked to give an impromptu talk of living in the UK. It was a short one though, and we did pretty well. One nice touch was when Jances mentioned her experience of the girls in UK talking about how much bigger each other’s boobs have grown. I burst into laughter, holding my face in my hands, in front of the whole audience, and while we weren’t really embarrassed about talking about it, I could see some of the audience actually surprised. That was what made me laugh.

Anyways, I met Vanessa with who I think is her boyfriend Darren. She’s got a new haircut, and dyed her hair, which looked really nice on her. And oh, I think Aainaa must have did her hair too. Both of them look really great with the new hair. Sorry I didn’t mention that when talking to you two.

Signing out

Over and out

Waiting For The Eight Months To Start All Over

I'm again back at Bandar, at Coffee Bean, probably overdosed on Coffee (latte, mainly). I was gonna do research, but I decided to sod it. So I took some personality tests based on my blog, since I recently got my blog listed on Brunei's Blogging Nation. Here's some of the results:

My blog is distinguished by verbosity, and I don't actually know what that word means.

My blog shows I'm 31% male, 69% female. Oh, hahaha. There goes my ego.

I write mainly about myself. Self-centred, anyone?

And I write mainly about the present, then the past, and then the future the least.

My writing style is conventional and the readability is decent.

I see my blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great.

One moment I may be working on a new dramatic design for my blog...

And the next, I'm passionately writing about my pet causes.

My blog is very important - and I'm careful about who I share it with.

So that's that. Basically I'm an effeminate, self-centred, conventional but passionate and artistic. Not bad, I guess.

Signing out

Over and out

The Finer Story Of True Love

I edited my story, 'The Story of True Love,' because I felt it was too short. Mind you, I wrote and posted it using my mobile phone.

-------------------------

I found it, he said in what was almost a soft whisper. He iterated those words, but with a louder voice, and an enthusiasm so obvious it took the attention of the birds and the squirrels, who gathered around him, trying to take a peek of what he had found. He squealed with unfelt before joy, and his smile grew with every moment. Finally, he had found True Love.

He wrapped True Love in silk clothing made from the threads of the finest breed of silkworms, and placed it gently in an intricately-designed wooden box made of mahogany carved with poems of love in a language that has died long ago with its people, and the box was littered with diamonds, sapphires, rubies and every other kind of jewellery that he knew existed. He sprayed the box with a perfume so sweet, bees from a mile away thought it was pure nectar from the rarest and most beautiful of flowers.

True Love was dear to him. There were days he felt he would gladly defend it with his life, and felt obliged to shower it with the most extravagant of decorations designed by the finest sets of hands in all of the world.

Once a day, he would take True Love out of the box, gently stroking it with his hands, looking at its every detail, wishing that True Love would stay with him forever. His eyes still transfixed on True Love, he would then take it outside, to his magnificient garden where the most vibrant of orchids and the most elegant of roses were grown. Time would seemingly stop at this moment, as the beetles and butterflies stopped to stare in awe at the spectacle of True Love. By sunset, he would then put True Love back in the mahogany box, telling himself how fortunate he had been to find True Love .

Then, one day, when he fell to deep melancholy and especially needing consolation, he was surprised to see that True Love wasn't in the box. He could come with no explanation as to how it could have disappeared, as the box had never left his sight. He questioned all his servants and maids, even accusing them of hiding True Love for their own benefit. In desperation he offered a handsome reward to anyone who could bring True Love back, but as thousands came to his door claiming they had found True Love, he found them to be either liars, con-artists, or just grossly mistaken.

In desperation, he returned to the enchanted forest where he had found True Love, at a lake no one knew existed, untouched by anyone except himself. Chills came down his spine as he had seen the lake transforming as he stepped on the soil surrounding it. The water had become as red as and thicker than blood. It smelt of rotting flesh, and the surface was unsettlingly still, as if death itself had infested the waters. He could feel the presence of unknown, malevolent creatures, eyeing him, waiting for him to fall into the lake. For a chance to devour his very flesh and soul. He tried to ignore this, and looked desperately for True Love, but again, he found nothing.

He spent the rest of his life, looking for lost True Love. His reward became unclaimed. His servants and maids have left him, convinced that he had lost his mind, unable to realise the fact that...

The moment he wrapped it in silk and put it in the mahogany box, he had lost True Love.

------------------------------

Re-reading this edited version, there's a lingering feeling that this feels as if it's just an afterthought. It doesn't quite flow, but I think it says a lot more about what I wanted to say than the shorter version. I originally intended to put in a lot of symbolism and metaphors about love, and I'd like to think I succeeded here. I based the style on Neil Gaiman, but I can never say it's as good as his stories. I think Gothic fairytales are a joy to write, since you've got both the artistic license to exaggerate and bend truths, while at the same time address mature issues and discuss multiple themes.

Tell me how you think of the story, even if you think it's pretentious bullshit or just plain boring. That means I get to flame you. Hahaha. Kidding :P

Signing out

Over and out

A Mention For An Amendment Decades In The Making

For the second day in a row, I'm having breakfast at De Royalle Cafe, here in Bandar, with really not much to do than go online, check Facebook & Multiply, and recently, starting to read blogs from Brunei's very own Blogging Nation. But in all honesty, going online isn't always unproductive. Just by a few random clicks and and BAM! You find out something you didn't even imagine could even be true, likely or possible. That's literally how I ended up being a vegan. A few random clicks and there I was, pondering over the ethics of animal exploitation.

[skip this part if you get bored easily. Hahaha]

With creativity though, there's a lot you can do online. There's this Wikipedia game that people play, where you have to link two seemingly unrelated topics. Here's how it works:

Choose two totally unrelated topics. Eg. Mitsubishi, and Anne Frank

Then choose a starting point. I'll choose Anne Frank as an example. Enter it on Wikipedia

Then read the article, looking for any links for articles that might get you one step closer to achieving your final goal, Mitsubishi, in as few clicks as possible.

I've gone from Anne Frank to Germany to Japan to Mitsubishi. Accomplished!

Hahahahaa.

I know what you're thinking. This is the saddest game I've ever heard. And yes, it kinda is. But it's still good fun.

[Yes, it's safe now]

Anyways, so I'm bored here. I'm not gonna say I'm bored out of my mind because the truth is, I'm not THAT bored. Facebook is a good companion. BBC News is on the telly, so you can't really say I'm not learning anything while I'm sitting here sipping my Caramel Latte in De Royalle.

The rain is soothing. It's a soft drizzling delicate shower. And unlike when it rains in the UK, the sky is still bright. Makes for a good walk under the rain. Although since I've got lunch later at somewhere else, I don't plan to get wet here and now. And since I've been spending much more time in Bandar (no, don't call me a Poklen. Hahaha), I've noticed there are loads of tourists around. And they all look the same, with their khaki shorts and oversized camping bags. And oh, a big-ass camera hanging around their neck. I guess it's some kind of tourist uniform rule that all European/American tourists wear when going to a tropical country. Hoho. Ha. A lot of them hang out at De Royalle too, apparently.

By the way, there's an Education UK / British Council exhibit going on tomorrow at Rizqun, the Mall. Fourth floor, Sutra Hall. I'll be working there as a promoter for the feedback survey. Sounds fun. Ish. The task, though simple, seems a bit daunting. They're aiming for 200-250 people to answer the survey, and I'm supposed to get those 250 people. A bit of a struggle, I predict. It'll be from 1pm to 6pm, if anyone's wondering. Be there. I'll be at the entrance. And do come in hundreds. Makes my job easier to get those survey forms done. Hahaha.

I guess my holiday isn't as unproductive as it seems at first glance. So far I've been to two pre-departure briefing for new scholars, and is expecting another one this Friday. I've looked after my grandfather in the hospital, essentially learning how to take care of the elderly. I've looked at universities, courses and grade requirements. I guess this amounts to being (somewhat) relatively productive, considering I've had three attachment applications unreplied and ignored.

And oh, being in UK for eight months, you gain new insight to how Brunei is, against how it seems to be. I don't intend to elaborate on that point, because it could get too tedious.

Signing out

Over and out

Buried In Unlabelled Expressions From A Journey Mysterious

The mild darkness is disturbed
By the streetlights of haunting ambience
Step by step we find the unnoticeables
In places we never expected
In times we never thought of exploring
Going deeper than the usuals of the city routines
The relative silence calms the wandering souls under the coldness of night

The tired faces are enlightened
By the journeys of unknown purposes
Street by street we find different variables
In faces we've never met
In roads we never even knew existed
Walking further than the usuals of our simple lives
The boundless skies turn a shade lighter with the morning dewdrops
--------------------------------------------

I wrote this in December. It's actually based on my experiences so far in London. It was actually in my Friendster blog, but reading it again, I quite like it. I might lift some material off my Friendster blog since I'm not using that anymore.

Signing out

Over and out

Five Days Late & A Simple Matter Of Expectancy

Oh wow. Okay, so I know it's a bit late. And the excitement has already gone down, but still, I can't help being excited over the fact I got an A for my English Literature papers :D

Literature is the only subject I really (like, really) care about out of the four, and of course, for the other subjects, my predictions were pretty much accurate. So this is my results:

English Literature - A
Maths - A
Chemistry - B
Physics - A (pending coursework)

Now I'm in a dilemma. I was contemplating dropping either Physics or Chemistry, and I was gonna wait to see which subject I'd do worse in. And I was so convinced I'd do worse in Physics, I was already planning to drop it. So much so that I didn't do any preliminary research for my A2 Physics Research coursework. Since I got an A in Physics, and B in Chemistry, I'm not sure which one I wanna drop.

Maybe I'll retake the Chemistry modules in January. That could solve my problem :D

Signing out

Over and out

Harsh Words In Times Of Difficult Decisions

Okay. I wrote this short story just because I wanted to swear. Fact. Hahaha. I apologise if it turns out the story has no recognisable plot whatsoever. I sincerely just feel the need to swear. And oh, if you’re the type to be offended, do not – I repeat, do not- go on reading. It’s gonna be full of profanity and sexual references, so I guess it’s up to your judgment if you wanna continue reading it.
----------------

“Fuck it, you know. Just fuck that god-damned son of a bitch, fuck him all the way to hell. And when, not if, he goes to hell, I hope he gets raped by the Devil himself, slowly and painfully, with no lubricant.”

There was no doubt that the person uttering those words was filled with anger. But no one could blame him. That ‘god-damned son of a bitch’ he was talking about, it was Klein.

Everyone knew Klein. And everyone knew Klein was a cunt. And a massive one at that. Put it this way. If he was literally a real physical cunt, he would be so massive that any penetration would be like poking a pencil into the Grand Canyon. But since he was just a metaphorical cunt, you couldn’t guess it just by looking at him.

He was the type to steal everyone’s girlfriend and then dump her after a week because, as he says it, “fuck her. Oh wait, I already did.” And that’s one of life’s conundrums. Girls keep coming to him like a policeman to a double-glazed donut. The policeman knows it’s bad for him, but he’s already hooked, and by the time he’s got over his addiction, has gained seventy pounds, diagnosed as a diabetic, his wife had divorced him two months ago, and his superiors are investigating him over breach of conduct. At least Krispy Kreme has voted him ‘Best Customer’ for the fourth consecutive year.

But then on the pitch, as the football club captain for the local team, he was worshipped as a god amongst men. And as such he was treated like a proper god by the club and its sponsors. The only reason he hadn’t left the club was that other clubs didn’t want to treat him like a booze-drinking, sex-obsessed messiah. Most other clubs already had one anyway, as an unwritten rule. If you didn’t have a self-centred, headline-making player in the team, you wouldn’t be considered a part of the elite. And everyone wanted to be a part of the elite. Even if it meant going to the casinos, gambling thousands and millions on Black Jack and roulette because you were afraid to admit you didn’t know how to play Baccarat, and serving your guests £700 glasses of the finest Dom Perignon wine you could get your hands on when all you could actually afford in the pub last night was two pints of Carling and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Of course Klein was genuinely rich. Not even filthy rich would justify it. In fact, if filthy described wealth, Klein would have to be swimming in two tonnes of shit from the assholes of two hundred different people, all of whom only ever eat spicy Burritos and cheap hot curry from the crappy fast food restaurant downtown.

Nonetheless, he was still a cunt, albeit an undeservedly fuckingly filthy wealthy one. Self-centred as he was, he sued Calvin Klein for allegedly using his name to gain profit. Ridiculously, he won. Rumours that he managed to bribe (have a brief affair with) the judge, Amy McNaught and two-thirds of the members of the jury, were spread faster than the legs of a horny mistress after watching the sex scene from Original Sin.

“Again, I have to say this, and I don’t think anyone would disagree, Klein was an unbelievable jackass. In fact, the only respect I have is for the fact that he was so committed into being a total and utter jackass, it must have taken him a fucking lifetime to perfect the art of being a motherfucker like him.”

Almost everyone nodded in agreement. The few people who did like him (these were people who knew him only briefly when he was generous with his wealth) stayed quiet in fear of being ostracised.

“May God have mercy on him. For all of us sure fucking don’t.” And with those final words, the priest ended the funeral proceedings, allowing the few people who did bring roses – and they were cheap, supermarket roses – to pay their respects. Most of them were already heading to the after-party for Klein’s funeral held in Klein’s unclaimed house.

As the day grew darker, the world has lost one more metaphorical cunt, and gained some much needed peace. Birds rejoiced and the stars came out to play. It was a beautiful night. And no jackass was gonna ruin it.

--------------------------------

See. So the story’s a bit mean. But it’s not directed at anyone. Klein’s not meant to be someone I know. Honest. I just thought it’d be funny (and well, really sad and admittedly shocking) if something like this really happened. Of course, I couldn’t help myself giggle to some of the jokes. I wish if I was going to be a writer, I would get to write stories much like this one. Hahaha. Ha.

Signing out

Over and out

The Story Of True Love

I found it, he said. Then he squealed with joy as he had finally found True Love.

He wrapped True Love in silk clothing made from the threads of the finest breed of silkworms, and placed it gently in an intricately-designed wooden box made of mahogany, littered with diamonds, sapphires, rubies and every other kind of jewellery that he knew existed. He sprayed the box with a perfume so sweet, bees from a mile away thought it was pure nectar from the rarest and most beautiful of flowers.

He held True Love dearly in his heart, so much so that he never let the box out of his sight, not even briefly.

Once a day, he would take True Love out of the box, gently stroking it with his hands. He would then take it outside, to his magnificient garden where the most vibrant orchids and the most elegant of roses were grown. By dusk, he would then put True Love back in the mahogany box.

Then, one day, when he especially needed consolation, he was surprised to see that True Love wasn't in the box. Nobody could have stolen it. He eyed the box all the time. It left him perplexed.

True Love had simply vanished, into thin air, without a trace.

A Treasure-House Full Of Unwritten Stories

This is the blog I'm supposed to write instead of the one before. I guess when it comes to writing anything, anything at all, you will never be quite sure how it will end up.

I've mentioned before how I sometimes feel that nothing is real, that I'm trapped in a world that is created by own mind. This is an expansion of that point.

One of my biggest fears in life is that I'm actually living my life all in my head, and someday I'll wake up, realising everything I had, everyone I loved, all of it never existed, except in my head. It's a scary thought, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who fears this.

The routine nature of everyday life only serves to amplify that fear. The repetitive things we do, the same places we go to day by day, sometimes it feels like a looping recorded tape, playing over and over again, with only minor changes, caused by static.

Surviving every single day, when so many things could go wrong, doesn't it seem eerily unreal? How many times did you almost get hit by a car? Recovered your balance from falling down a menacing set of stairs?

Of course I would've liked to write a longer and better one, but blogging through my phone is a bitch.

Signing out

Over and out

Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind

The title isn't mine. It's from one of my favourite movies, featuring Jim Carey and Kate Winslet. It's not a comedy though. It's a kind of romance story, but it's also an exploration of the human mind.

The story goes on like this. It's actually told in a somewhat non-chronological order, but I'll try to explain it anyway. Winslet's character feels that her relationship with Carey is no longer workable, and therefore decides to erase him from her memory permanently, and start over with a new life. Carey, finding out Winslet's actions, decides to do the same.

Of course, during the process, while being trapped in his own subconscious, finds that he doesn't wanna lose the wonderful memories he had with her, even though the relationship is over. He then tries to wake himself up, so that he could still retain those memories.

It's a great film. I think they show it on Astro from time to time.

I've also just seen '28 Weeks Later' on DVD. This film is amazing. Far from just being a gore-fest, it is a thriller that has heart. The eerie music is essential to the film, giving a sense of hopelessness and desperation. Every little sense of hope is crushed soon after it is given. This film has a genuinely good plot, but the characters aren't allowed to develop.

Rush Hour 3 was a good laugh-out-loud film. But it had so many cliches in it. Recommended though.

Signing out

Over and out

Capturing The Reluctant Moonlight In A Simplified Phrase

I have a stupid habit of hating boyfriends. Yes, apparently I do. This was highlighted by Fee, when I commented on my initial dislike of the boyfriend of a close friend of mine. It's a stupid thing on my part, I guess, to be so judgmental on someone I barely know. But I still do it nonetheless.

I don't exactly know why I have this outrageously stupid habit of being sceptical towards my friends' boyfriends. Especially when they act like boyfriends, being all cuddly and.. Urm.. boyfriend-ish.

Maybe it's because I'm single, and I'm just jealous of these lucky bastards. Maybe. Haha.

Maybe I'm just being overprotective of my friends, which may sound stupid, but I've seen some of the meanest, most inconsiderate, life-sucking boyfriends (not mine, obviously) around. So I guess me being sceptical is somewhat justified.

I am not entirely sure.

LATEST NEWS: I don't like my aunt's boyfriend. Haha. What does that make me?

I took Sigmeund Freud's test on Tickle today. Scary stuff, especially when a bit turns out to be true. And if you know Freud, you'll know why that's freaky.

Signing out

Over and out

A Predicted Epiphany Amidst Life And Death

Grandpa will be out today. Mainly this news is a relief. Five of my last eight nights were spent here, in Ward 4, staying up till the wee hours of the morning.

I won't say it's been a nightmare though. I've always enjoyed taking late night and early morning walks, when it's quiet and lonely. Pure solace. I remember the walks I used to have with Daeena, from Brunei Hall to Piccadilly Circus. We browsed through Bond Street till 4am. I used to go to Portland Stores at 1am with Farah (She's back today, from Dhaka!) just so I could get out for ten minutes. That was time well spent.

And apparently it's attachment time for the Nursing College students. At least there's something you look forward to seeing everyday. Hahaha. Ha.

Wi-Fi is weak today, so I'm blogging using my phone. I'm gonna miss the free wireless internet here. Hoho. Ha.

Signing out

Over and outinternet, Brunei

Saved By The Bed

I slept on a proper bed for the first time this week last night. I've been sleeping on wheelchairs and floors, if I had any sleep at all. So the return to my own room was certainly welcome.

I also bought a Nintendo Wii, to prove to myself I am still that indulgent person who likes to spend, be it money or time with friends. Being in the hospital, I wasn't that person. I sacrificed my sleep, time and money in there.

I guess I do feel the need to be selfish and indulgent. All my life I've been selfless on too many occasions. This is one of those times.

People take advantage of other people's selflessness. It's a fact of life. None of my cousins, uncles or aunts even offered to take just one day off of work/school to replace me. No one even asked if I was tired of it. The only one who asked was my grandpa, and he's the one being taken care of.

It'll be me again tonight. I don't wanna argue with anyone about it. There's enough back-stabbing going on behind the scenes already.

Signing out

Over and out

Mixed Emotions & Two Thousand Minutes Of Boredom

This guy is a Koopa Troopa, a turtle species in the Super Mario video games, whose members work for Bowser, the villain.

I felt like posting the picture, because I'm currently playing Super Mario 64, which was released about a decade ago. I've been playing it on my laptop, and I still find it so fun even though it's an old game.

There's also another reason I posted this picture. She will know. Hahaha.

I had a mixed day today.

The afternoon was wonderful. I spent it with Fee at Gadong. I thought it was worth it spending my few free hours from the hospital, with her, after a while not seeing her.


Shopping was fun. I'm probably one of the most patient guys (not including boyfriends) when it comes to shopping with girls. At least I think I am. But I don't know. I don't think it's because I'm patient. It's probably because I do enjoy it.

But the night. Oh wow. I remember now why I didn't like family gatherings that much.

I hate the back-stabbing, the feuding, the hidden agendas... All this while my grandpa lies on his bed asleep, trying to recover from whatever is wrong with him...

Oh well. I will be far away from this in one month.

Signing out

Under The Scene Of A Starless Sky

I've been here at the hospital since Sunday night. The only time I've been out of the hospital since then, was just now, for a few hours, to get some stuff from my house, and get some much-needed sleep on my much-missed bed.

Progress has been great though. Grandpa's steadily getting better. The doctor says that he might be fit enough to leave after two days. He's sleeping now. If it isn't for the wireless internet connection, I'd be extremely bored most of the time.

I met Vanessa and Aki yesterday at the hospital. Both unexpectedly. I met Vanessa on the way back from breakfast. Being only half-awake with only three hours of sleep the night before, it took me a while to recognise her. My encounter with Aki was when I was going back from lunch, and I saw him sitting with his family.

I guess those chance meetings, the news of my grandpa getting better, and the fact that allowances come out tomorrow, have lifted my spirits immensely. I'm still pretty tired and exhausted. I've probably only had eight hours of sleep during the last 72 hours.

I'm pretty sure tomorrow is also gonna be my turn, since everyone using the "I've got work/school" excuse to get out of it. I don't really mind, but I do need the rest once in a while.

I'm going out tomorrow afternoon. I've got to get my ass out of this place for just a few hours to mantain some sense of sanity in me.

Oh, well. It could be worse.

Signing out

Over and out

Waiting The Night In Three Different Devices

I'm scared.

I'm here, sitting beside my grandpa's bed, in Ward 4 of the hospital, wondering, "what next?"
His words are weak, and he keeps on asking the same questions, and patiently we give him the same answers.

He's stable. I'm thankful for that. He looks like he'll get through.

But then, I'm still scared.

I wasn't in Brunei when my grandma died about four months ago..

Now, whatever happens, I'm here.

I'll stay here until tomorrow afternoon, then someone else takes over. It's like taking shifts, I guess.

I can't say much at the moment, because I can't really think..

Signing out

Over and out

The Strength & Weakness To Embrace Anger & Profanity

I’m getting tired of having to tell people I’m vegetarian. It’s worse when someone mentions I’m a vegetarian out of nowhere just as conversation fodder. I hate having to explain over and over again why, how and when I turned vegetarian. And when I finish explaining, they start making fun out of it. It’s so bloody fucking frustrating. I’ve got to the point when anyone tries to make fun of vegetarianism, I just can’t be bothered to fucking care. Fuck it, who cares what they think. They don’t know shit about vegetarianism, and they think they can just mock it as if it’s some crazy cult some hippie invented.

News flash. Aside from when I’m blogging or when someone brings it up as conversation fodder and specifically asks me what I think, I do not criticise people eating meat. Period. I might have critical views about it, but I wouldn’t lay it out for everyone to see. People can be so dismissive, it’s so fucking ridiculous. How would you feel if the fact that you need your meat to be slaughtered in a specific and designated way be criticised and teased? You’d feel pissed off, won’t you? Then fuck it, realise that by making fun of vegetarianism you’re essentially pissing all over my ethical beliefs and my way of living. I wouldn’t mind if someone tried to argue legitimately, by making legitimate points, instead of dismissing it straight away. And please, religious arguments don’t sway me, because admit it, nowhere does it say it’s ‘haram’ to be a vegetarian. This is as much an ethical choice as arguing if polygamy in this day and age is still appropriate and is not susceptible to abuse. And it fucks with my brain that sometimes in rare occasions, someone would argue against vegetarianism using religion, but fuck it, I know he’s chugging ten pints of Carling and doing it in six different positions with his girlfriend all the while he’s vomiting out this hypocritical bullshit all over my face.

And if the amount of profanity doesn’t show it, I tell you here and now, I’m fucking pissed off by all of this. So fuckfaces, if you don’t know what you’re talking about, don’t talk about it, because frankly, honestly and sincerely, I can’t fucking be arsed anymore.

Right now I still believe I will be vegetarian for life. No, don’t swing that piece of fried chicken in front of me. Believe me, I’m not tempted. At all. I’m more tempted to kick my own balls with a pair of army boots then stomp on my own face, if I’m being honest.

Signing out

Over and out

Tired & Thinking

You would think, that having your holidays would at least mean having a few days doing nothing, staying at home the whole day, renewing your bond with the TV and the microwave oven. But so far, twenty days later, I have had no such days. I've been one way or another out every single day.

There was this one day I almost got through without going out at all, but my parents had to ruin it by saying "Mau ikut jalan shopping?" 5 hours before midnight struck. Yeah, sure, I could've said no, but when parents say that, there's a chance you get to shop without spending your own money. Haha. Ho.

Weirdly, most of my going-outs have been food-related. Well, it isn't really weird, I guess. But the fact is, me being a vegetarian doesn't lend myself to a lot of choices. For example, at Excapade, out of a diverse choice of sushi and japanese food, I could only order three dishes.

Okay, sure, sushi is primarily fish anyway. Good point. But everywhere else, it's the same. So far, Caper's is the best place if you're vegetarian like me. At home, it's actually much worse. You can't get the kind of soy milk that acts as a substitute for cow milk. Bruneian veggie dishes are appalling on their own. Everything has chicken/beef/shrimp/eggs. And so on. I need to go. Sleep. Zzz.

Signing out.

Over and out

Cars & Carousels

Seeing that it was HM's birthday yesterday, we, the three MJs, went out to Bandar, y'know, just to get a taste of the festivities. And fuck, the capital didn't feel festive at all. It wasn't exactly dead, but it wasn't that lively. There was a lot of people, but there simply was just nothing happening. Meeting up with my other cousins felt awkward for me.

Y'know the connection people have with their cousins? Well, I kinda wish I have that with some of my cousins. Meeting them sometimes felt like just meeting an acquaintance. At least I had a bit of fun with the two other MJs, since it was a long time since we hung out together. Too bad the other MJ is in Kuwait. Happy 23rd birthday to her, by the way. Haha.

Since Bandar was too fucking boring, we decided to get something to eat in Kiulap, at Sugar & Spice. I was supposed to meet up with Fee & Dibs at Au Lait Cafe, but that didn't happen. Got back around midnight, and by the end I was so tired and full I crashed onto my bed straight away. Oh, by the way, the other three MJs are my cousins, Messoni, Nana (Mel) and Yayai (Melline). Cool, eh? Haha.

Signing out.

Over and out

Music & Masterpieces

Truth be told, I'm not much of a metalhead at the moment, what with the influence from my jazz-playing, punk-listening, ska-loving friend, Geo seeping in. I've not forsaken metal completely though. I still listen to my share of prog-metal and metalcore, and sometimes the odd death and thrash track. Trancecore is intriguing me at the moment, Enter Shikari being the main intriguer. I've also been listening to a lot less heavy stuff, like Arcade Fire and (+44). But it's me listening to the likes of The Streets, Norah Jones and Lloyd Cole that's been surprising even myself. I mean, how often is it that on someone's iPod does Norah Jones follow up to Avenged Sevenfold? I'm sorry if I'm name-dropping too much. It's just that it's easier to mention band names than explain their sound.

I mean, how do you explain a band like System Of A Down? Or Deftones? Categorisation in metal is becoming less and less relevant, I think, what with bands mixing and matching different sub-genres in an effort to create something new in an oversaturated industry. Hard Rock bordering on metal is becoming interesting, especially with bands like Madina Lake and Maylene & The Sons Of Disaster. Linkin Park's new album is disappointing. Nu Metal is truly dead. Metalcore is looking good. I've not made up my mind on Emo yet. Battle Metal is awesome because Turisas is absolutely magnificient. Thrash metal is still excellent. So is Death. Trivium will be future metal gods. And so ends my pointless commentary.

Signing out.

Over and out

Time & Taste

I went out today for the umpteenth time since I got back one and a half weeks ago, which I think is bloody impressive for a person who didn't bother to get his license, lives 45 minutes from anywhere in Brunei and is still supposed to be jetlagged. Oh well, stranger things have happened.

So I went out for dinner at Caper's at Kiulap with Fee and Afham - my treat - and we managed to have a good time. It was quite chilled. My first time at Caper's, and I think I quite like the place. Before dinner, I was at Coffee Bean in Gadong just doing some holiday research, and I bumped into Ruzaidah and Anisah, and I'm not kidding you, a few years back they actually formed a fan club of three, just for my hair. My freakin' hair, though I must say, it's quite flattering. When was the last time someone formed a fan club for a part of your body? Haha.

We actually chatted for quite a while in the Bean, before we parted ways. It's not often that I update my blog with pretty mundane stuff. Forgive me.

Signing out.

Over and out

Heroes & Hindsight

Right now I'm supposed to be cheery and smiling, I should think. Since tomorrow is my last day of school for this year, I shouldn't really have a care in the world. But the fact of the matter is, I still have two courseworks to hand in for tomorrow, and although both of them are nearly finished, the last parts are usually the ones that take the most time.

Honestly, coursework doesn't really bother me. They're both quite easy anyways.

WHat's really bothering me is the headache and the sore throat, both of which combine to give me one hell of a day. I barely had the energy to walk back to the house during lunch. And bloody hell, it was fucking cold. If there's one thing I won't miss about England, it's the fucking weather. You get the sense that the weather is a power struggle between sunshine and the infamous English drizzle.

I haven't got much to talk about. It's pretty mundane, the things that happen at the end of term. There're talks of us doing C4 and S1/M2 in January, so that by then, we would've finished our Maths syllabus, and thus granting us much-needed PRs (personal reading time during lessons, or as we would like to call it, personal recreation). Other than that, it's the usual stuff.

I like what we're gonna do for English next year. I'm excited about the poetry. We're doing Milton's Paradise Lost, Book 9 and 10. It's gonna be exciting since it's about the devil's rebellion against God before and after the creation of Adam & Eve. Reading Book 1, Satan comes out almost as a tragic hero and a military figure as the leader of the fallen angels. It sounds interesting. Not that I'm a Satanist or anything. Hahaha.

Going around the house (especially the sixth-form) is Mario Kart 64 fever, which is weird since the game is already quite old. It's not to say it's not fun anymore. Even I got into it. But I truly and honestly suck at it.

Apparently there's gonna be an outdoor rock concert in school right after I've already left, which kinda sucks. I'd like to see some of my friends rockin' out.

Okay. Enough of my random ramblings.

Signing out

Over and out

Calls & Commitment

Sometimes you think wait-and-see is the best policy, and in certain situations, it might even ring true. But in most cases, it just means you’ve missed another opportunity to make your life better, to make it that little bit richer, or more exciting. Even bearable.

I’m saying this because I’ve employed the wait-and-see tactic so often, yet never had it benefited me, and sometimes I wish that I had taken the chances and opportunities that were there, for me to take, to grab hold of. I keep giving myself excuses why I should wait longer, and why that moment wasn’t exactly the best time. But then, the real truth was, there never is that perfect moment. You just have to grab hold of one moment, and make that one perfect for yourself, for that particular situation. Because after that one single moment where you overcome your doubts and fears, you will come out knowing you’ve done something. It doesn’t matter if it didn’t go as planned, or if it made you the happiest person on earth. The only thing that matters is that you won’t spend the rest of your life pondering over what might’ve been.

I’m so afraid of commitment, afraid that I won’t be able to devote my time and resources to her – no matter how much I love that someone. I cannot imagine myself getting married, not now, not in five years, not even ten. Maybe not ever. Aside from being scared of commitment, it’s knowing that when I finally meet that perfect someone who I would want to spend my life with, she wouldn’t be the type of person who would want to be married anyway. She’d be the type of person who knows that marriage isn’t necessary to show someone’s affection towards another. She’d despise the idea of public showing of affection through marriage. I don’t know. It all seems so ridiculous sometimes. It’s even fair to say it’s too early to think about marriage and the likes.

Pathetic. That’s the description I’d give on myself. I keep discovering that I’m still in love with the same person even after I keep reminding myself that there’s less than one in a million chance of something happening between me and her. It’s not just that I can’t fall out of love with her. It’s that I’m too scared to move on, too scared to fall out of love with her. I’m afraid I’ll lose one of the few things helping me to cope with how unreal everything else feels. Emotions keep me in touch with myself, and in touch with reality, if there is ever such a thing as reality. Even if love is indeed an illusion, I’ll gladly cling onto it like a drug.

But this time I’ll act. This time I’ll say something to her. I’ll finally tell her, even though deep inside I suspect she might’ve known all along. Even though everytime she asks me if there is anyone I like, I’d always say no.

I’m preparing myself to be hurt. I’m prepared to let myself be crushed, just to let this burden off me.

Signing out

Over and out

Cars & Chlorine

It turns out I have 2 chemistry courseworks and 1 Physics coursework to do in two weeks, post-exams, and I'm not happy at all. At least today is my last exam, and that's the ever delightful C3. I'm not looking forward to it at all. Oh, well, retaking won't be so bad, I guess.

By the way, Sam & Geo did a prank on Jack Rose's car this morning during their double PR. They wrapped his car in clear plastic, which looks so funny up close. I can't believe they did it while it was raining, for a full ten minutes.






Hahaha.

Tell you what though. One thing I'm really looking forward to is the fact that I'll be on my flight home exactly two weeks from tomorrow. I can't wait :D

Signing out

Over and out

Balls & Bravery

I actually mean tennis balls when I said 'balls' in the title. And it's cause I was watching the French Open Men's final, and again Federer lost to Nadal. I'm not pleased at all. Federer was just making too many unforced errors, I felt like slapping him in the face and whacking his torso with his own tennis racket. Oh well, he'll dominate Wimbledon.

By the way, if you want some laughs, click on Collins's Night In. It's a video of one of the upper sixth being drunk, and it's well and truly funny.

I need something proper to do.

Signing out

Over and out

Silent & Expectant

Okay, so today had been utterly and mind-numbingly boring, so I guess, that's why I've been posting a lot on Multiply today. Keeping myself busy is kinda hard when almost all of the people from my year have gone home on exam leave, and it's annoying. My roommate's staying, but I'd rather him not. No offence or anything, it's just that having the room to myself on days like this would mean at least I could turn the music up really loud and scream my lungs out.

Instead, I re-did my site. I like the background I did. I'd like to think it's sending out a message whenever people see it. And yeah, the pictures are taken from CD album covers. I especially like the 'communicate' and 'emote' part of the background. The background didn't take me long to do, and that gave me time to re-do the colour scheme, but that was only five minutes of mix-and-match. Nothing major, I guess.

I'm proud of the fact that I like to personalise everything so that my things won't look exactly like everyone else's things. If people have seen my laptop, you'll know it's my laptop. Hahahahaha. Ha. It's a knackered piece of machinery, but nonetheless, it's served me well. I guess it's like a dysfunctional relationship. There's so many things wrong with the laptop, and there's so many things wrong with how I deal with it, but at the end of the day, I still find it in my heart to call it mine. Haha.

Signing out

Over and out

Cause & Effect

Well, my exams are basically finished, except for the pesky C3 paper on the 14th, but hey, that's a beef. It's not exactly in our AS syllabus (it's A2 Maths), and we only took it cause Mr Hayes thinks we're absolutely awesome in Maths, that he's failed to realise he's absolutely aweful in teaching.

Thanks to (or despite just) five minutes of Physics revision, I think I did relatively well in the two papers, unless everyone was exaggerating over how hard the first paper was, and I was simply too gullible to think they might've been a bit exaggerating.

A combined 3 hours and 5 minutes of revision for Maths, Physics, and Chemistry, is quite impressive for my standards. I'm quite proud of myself. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha. Haha. Ha.

Okay, I'm gonna stop talking about exams, because to be honest, who can really be arsed?

Signing out

Over and out

Trains & Thoughts

If it was made to be here
We aren’t exactly what we made ourselves to be
Sure it doesn’t make sense
But what else ever does?
We see ourselves in the mirror everyday
Hoping one change would change it all
Daydreaming in front of yourself again
With dreams that will never matter

You lean on me one more time
Hoping things would just go away like they never do
Well it rarely came to anything
But what else ever did?
We curse the days when it felt so bad
Knowing one change would change it all
Just dancing in our heads to the rhythm
With lyrics that will never matter

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I love your ironic laughs. The way they appear out of thin air, right after two seconds of silence. I love the way I can talk to you about anything and know that you’ll understand even when you don’t agree.

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Bits and pieces of thoughts, so unstructured, and unarranged, penned to be viewed by others. Maybe it’s best left this way, unordered and chaotic, because this is how life is, chaotic.

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I did Chemistry this morning, but hey, I’m not really that bothered what grades I get. Maybe I’ll drop Chemistry next year, or Physics. I’m not sure yet. I haven’t really decided. See which one I'm worse in.

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Is it wrong to assume someone will love you back if you love them enough? Apparently, it is. And in real life, it’s too much of a gamble, so you go on with your normal life, going with the flow, letting the feelings build up inside, but never letting them surface. I get confused, with anything and everything, and yet, I see most things clearer that most how most people see the same things.

Paradoxes are my specialty. I was born a paradox, a subtle mix of different oxymorons put into a blender made into this person typing on the keyboard.

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Everyone’s a hypocrite, and if people say they aren’t hypocrites, then they clearly are.

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Is it just me, or has music gone backwards in time?

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Life isn’t meaningful. Living it is.

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Time is running out.

For what?

Just about everything.

--------------

Signing out

Over and out

Grass & Grades

The grass was soft, carpet-like almost. It was also mildly wet, but not unpleasantly so. The smell of grass in the morning was intoxicating to me, as if it smelled of bright and sunny days, of painted blue skies and bare strokes of white clouds. It smelled like sunshine and riverbanks. I love mornings like this, when I could just lie on the grass and let my worries stay in the classrooms, absorbed in this morning solace that comes only once a fortnight.

I hate the rain that came to spoil the sunshine. The trickling of menacing raindrops on the roofs, like nails being shaken and stirred in a metal jar, was always greeted with the unaccepting sigh of a soul expecting the rest of the day to be miserable and unsatisfying. But this day, at that moment in time, the sunshine greeted me with its glowing radiance, and I was half-expecting the day to be a great one. The other half expected it to be at least a good one.

I was thinking of her then. It would’ve been great if she was here, I said to myself. I looked to the empty patch of grass just beside me, and I tried hard to imagine her there, chatting with me, about anything and everything. Even about nothing. I would’ve gladly spent hours with her than do anything else. Even if we did nothing but lie on the grass and talk. I wouldn’t even need to face her. Just hearing her voice would’ve been enough. That’s not to say she didn’t have a face worth looking at. It was quite the contrary. She was beautiful, in every sense of the word. Beautiful on the outside, and also on the inside, or at least that’s how the cliché goes. And for her, that was true.

The grass had slightly dried after what was maybe three hours of idle thoughts, and no longer did it smell fresh. Instead it mildly smelled much like burnt leaves and branches. The heat from the sunshine had intensified, and my skin longed for moisture. I didn’t realise I had spent too much in the sun until I heard someone calling my name, and said something about if I wanted to go to lunch. I picked myself up, and left the grass field with a slightly remorseful aftertaste.

*************************

I’m quite satisfied with my Maths C1 and C2 paper. I’m pretty sure I’ll get an A in each, bar a major cock-up that I still have not realised. C1 was ridiculously easy. I had to take three minutes rest in between questions just to make sure I didn’t have too much time left after I’ve finished. Still, I finished an hour early, so I had to check my answers slowly and carefully, twice, just to waste time. I know, I shouldn’t be bragging about how easy it was. Usually it’s the beginning of a pretty sorrowful story. Y’know, the one in which the guy thinks he’s done extremely well in his paper, and finds out later in the year that he failed. But never mind, I’m not the superstitious kind anyway. And to be honest, I don’t really care if I get a miserable mark. Not for me anyway. Maybe for my choice of universities, but personally I wouldn’t mind.

I’m so happy with my latest English mocks results for the Section B part of ‘Antony & Cleopatra’. I got 27 out of 30, and that’s a high A. Two months ago I was struggling and getting C’s and cursing myself over why I took English as my teaching subject rather than a science. Now I’m quite happy with myself for making that choice.

I’ll be happier if I get an A in English than if I get 100% in any of the sciences or Maths, and that’s because I don’t think science and Maths exams properly reflect how good you are in the subject. I rate English as a subject (and any other humanities for that matter) because much of it is your own opinion. Sure, you have to study for it, but only because you need to know the material to form an opinion. To be extremely honest, I’d rather have no exams at all, and not because I find exams troublesome and cumbersome. Well, partly. But mostly because I find it intellectually irrelevant and systematically flawed. You’d probably do better if you memorised the whole syllabus rather than understanding it. That’s what I think anyway.

Signing out

Over and out