failure

WARNING : STRONG LANGUAGE AHEAD. DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT.

For some reason, I am not afraid. Usually when I am not afraid, something bad is going to happen. I hope it doesn't though.

He's just some other's school's failure trying to make new start at my school. However, I am thinking that the truth is his father is the one trying to keep him in school. If it had been up to him, he would have left earlier and never registered at my school.

He failed. I failed.

The thing is, if I am afraid of the repercussions of all my disciplinary acts, I would never have left home. We can't expel him. We can suspend him for two weeks and another two weeks and another two weeks. That police report is just so if anything happens to me (it would have been too late by then anyway) they would have a prime suspect already. Most of the teachers and students saw and heard us. The eye witness is a guy from his kampung and works at the office. He was just two feet away from me the whole time it happened.

After breakfast, I went to meet with a parent over scholarship matters, and I saw him in front of my office. I know he has been skipping classes every day for the past few days and skipping school altogether before that. We were on the verge of suspending him on that count alone. So I said to him,

"Why don't you just tell your dad you want to quit school and just do it? I'd be glad to help."
"I had been ill, Miss."
"Yeah, right. Whatever. But at this moment there is no use standing there like that, just go to your class and sit for the day's papers now. I'll deal with you later in the afternoon. Go."
He left.

About 5 minutes later I was done with the parent, so I went straight to my class. It was his class. I saw that he was not there. I asked his classmates, "Where's Ali*?"
"He hasn't been in here, Miss."
"Is that so?"

Then a kid from his class who just came back from the restroom walked in.
"Have you seen Ali?" I asked
"Yes, he was loitering behind the restroom, Miss." As I had expected.

I immediately called the guy from his kampung on my cellphone from outside the classroom. He was at the office at the time, and I asked him to go get Ali and bring the boy to the classroom, I'd be waiting for him there.

2 minutes later, I heard them coming with his voice protesting. I walked out of the classroom to get him. He saw me and he bolted.

I yelled his name and he stopped at the stairs and the guy went after him and stopped him. I went to the stairs and pulled him upwards and he brushed my hand off and we started lashing at each other at the top of our lungs.

"This is what Malays are." I fumed.
"Don't you dare talk like that about Malays, Miss."
"Why the hell not? I'm Malay, Din here is Malay. But the difference is, we're not Malay trash like you. I can and will help you only if you are willing to make some changes on your part, but if you come here expecting sympathy and unwilling to pull your thumb out of your ass, you better just forget about it. I have no time for trash like you."

He was rearing to go, wanting to strike me, his nostrils flaring and eyes were red and watery.
"I can beat you up if I want to, Miss," he growled under his quickened breath.
"Go ahead. Take your best shot." I egged him on, calling his bluff.

Instead, he walked back down the stairs and yelled back at me,
"I may not be beating you up today, but beware, I will wreck your car and I will wreck it really good. Just wait until you get to Lawas this afternoon, I will get all my posse to get you, Miss, just you wait."

"Yeah, do that. I'll be waiting. Don't forget. But right now just get your crappy ass out of my school and don't you ever dare show your face here again, we don't have any place for a motherfucking loser like you here."

I looked at Don who was dumbfounded, "Don, escort the shit out of the school, and make sure he leaves."

He did as I said. Ali threw the books he brought with him on the stairs, Don picked them up as he walked down the stairs and followed him.

I watched from the corridor above the stairs. I could see the whole school from where I was standing. But as he took quite a while, I went to the class next to mine, asked the teacher to keep an eye on my class as well, and went downstairs and followed the SOB out. He was out of the gate by the time I got downstairs, and he harrassed the guard too as he stomped out.

I saw Don standing there with the books still in his hand, I took them from him, walked to the gate, saw the SOB a distance from the gate, probably walking towards the rows of shop where he will spend the rest of the day until it is time to go home again. Loitering and drinking.

I walked to the side of the road with the books in my hand and flung them into the air. They flew and scattered for a split second before landing on the asphalt. The pages fluttered in the wind.

*names have been changed.

i see

stumped

Am I afraid of commitment?
Hell, no.

Do I have daddy issues?
I have no idea. But I don’t think so.

Do I talk too much, but too scared to take the plunge myself?
I guess. But I need to vent. Plunge myself into what?

Should I get a life?
I have one already. I might not be too hot for it, but I am okay with it for the time being.

Do I hate men?
*sigh*
No. I don’t hate them. I used to want to be like them. Not the sexual part of it. I used to want to be like them in terms of being strong, courageous, adventurous, independent, dependable and stable. Not anymore since I realized I can do all that and still be a lady.
It just f*cks me up when they start pointing fingers at us when something bad happens in a relationship like they are 100% blameless.
I don’t claim that women aren’t to blame at all. Some are really f*cked up and deserves to be impaled and put on display. But most of the women I know have made enough sacrifices in their lives to grant them the love and understanding of the men around them. That’s all.
Yeah, I do get all worked up when I think you’re being unfair to us because God never made a perfect man or woman so we’d need each other, no matter how much we hate each other’s guts sometimes. So quit pointing fingers at us women.

Am I desperate?
For a miserable long-term relationship with a man who doesn’t love me?
No.
For a stable long-term commitment that will grow and grow into something better and better with a man who had the patience to deal with me and all my craziness and jumbo-sized everything but at the same time have the willingness and courage to tell me that I am f*cked up and need to get my sh*t in order and be with me through the tough times even if all he could do was being silent?
Yes. But he’s taken. I can’t have that. But I’m still alive, so I am not rushing anything.

What’s going on?
Nothing. That’s the problem. It exists, but it’s not alive. Why am I bothering?

I am super marah and super benci about something but I can’t reach the dénouement because someone wishes to be a tree stump instead of being what he should be.

whatever

Would it be fair if I say this; that women marry mostly for the regular attention and affection from the opposite sex.

Other than produce asexually, women don’t need much from men. Well, I am aware of the fact of men reserve the same right as women, where apart from propagating the species and being fond of having a soft naked form snuggling close to them after a good session, they don’t really need women around. They find a lot of the female quirks irritating most of the time, but strangely still feel drawn to us when the urge strikes. Other than as something to play with and something to show off to the rest of the losers, they don’t really need women either.

They’re only proud of their female counterparts and get possessive when they are presentable or look far better than the rest of the crowd. Just look at the way of most married Malay men when they go out with their wives who had gained a few pounds and not really bothering about appearance; they’ll always maintain a distance of approximately a meter and a half from the wife, ahead of them, usually. What, with that pot belly and balding head, is distancing yourselves from your not so attractive wives, going to increase the probability of hot young things to be attracted to you? You’re ashamed of the goods you yourself have willingly helped damage in the first place and didn’t really make any half-assed attempt at fixing them up again… The irony.

What’s wrong with PDA* in public when and if you have endured a long-lasting, loving and fulfilling marriage? FYI, that is actually something to be proud of. Not the shameless hand-holding and groping in public when you’re newly in love, with all those hormones raging and, when even the fart smells like blooms in spring, not even knowing if it would end with a wonderful and lasting marriage or a botched attempt at abortion.

That’s easy. Too easy.

Hey, don’t get your panties all in a bunch. I didn’t say all the men I knew is like that. My dad wasn’t like that. My eldest brother isn’t like that. I would like to say the same about my second older brother if I ever saw him out with his ex. These women they married, aren’t exactly cut outs of models in a magazine. But they made the effort to look good. My mom is a huge but well-kept and well-dressed woman. By well-kept, I meant to say that she eats well, and the genetics didn’t hurt, so she looks younger than her real age. And she was never sloppy. I don’t think dad ever held her hand when they went out, but he always makes sure that she’s close. And I bet the jealousy-triggered rants under his breath never stopped amusing my mom.

The same goes for my two brothers and their wives. I don’t see them holding hands either, probably would be too much in front of me I guess. But they never walk too far apart when they go out and they make contact like couples should.

I’m not blaming men or women for anything. We’re just built the way we are. Some are willing to make accommodations, some don’t.

It all boils down to the chemistry and respect for each other. Love someone enough to acknowledge their rights and respect those rights. Women should not be complacent and men should not be assholes. Reaching the comfort zone is no excuse to let go. You can’t help losing hair if that’s what runs in the family, but you can help yourself from being an asshole, because it’s not really a genetic trait. The same goes for being a bitch. You can’t help developing blubber after a few kids if that’s what runs in the family and you can’t afford a personal trainer and nutritionist, but you can help from being sloppy, because that is not a genetic trait either.

It’s not the PDA, really. I just don’t see how men and women can marry and be together for long if they both want totally different things. They’d always say for the sake of the kids. Hey, kids are resilient beings. As long as you don’t keep chewing off each other’s ass every time you cross paths, and make sure the alimony is updated, I don’t think it would bother them too much having two families instead of one.

Come on… it’s just easier to gain pity from unsuspecting naives if you’re stuck in a so-called loveless marriage than if you decide that it is time to be independent and cut off the tethers that’s been preventing you from soaring higher.

Or is divorce simply too expensive, especially when it is with a vindictive spouse? So instead of preparing for that ugly battle, why not invest in the nurturing process more?

Affection and attention; those are the only things I really need in a relationship. I don’t think that is too much to ask of anyone who is willing to invest his time and emotions in a long-term and fulfilling relationship. The rest of it will come with the O&D** Package that usually comes with matrimony.

I just need some attention and TLC. Otherwise I can just forgo the whole relationship thing. Honestly, I do get lonely sometimes, but not THAT lonely to want to be miserable in an unhappy long-term relationship with anyone.

No, not THAT lonely.

*Public Display of Affection

*Obligation and Devotion Package

an episode

On the way home from school yesterday, I drove into the gas station and parked my car in front of one of the pumps. I was feeling lethargic after spending 10 minutes on the nebulizer machine at the clinic earlier, so I asked if Z could help me fill up the tank. She had never done it before, so she said she’ll try. She went and paid for the gas, and came back to get the pump going. But it wouldn’t reset itself when she unhooked the pump head. She did it again and again. The pump attendants kept yelling at the attendant at the cash register telling her to reset the thing. She did a few times already and every time she did she gave the thumbs up meaning that we can go ahead and pump gas. But the damned thing still wouldn’t reset itself. So the attendants asked me to move my car to another pump. But by this time, there was already a huge 15-seater van trundled and parked its huge ass right behind my car, and after seeing all the trouble and stressing situation with the yelling and arguing between the attendants, his stupid face just told me he is not going to budge from that place when I motioned to him to back out a little so I could move my car to the next pump. His understanding came too late because by the time he started to reverse his car, I already didn’t give a shit who I will hit if I drive forward and make a quick swerve into the one way lane back into the gas station next to another unoccupied pump. I was reckless. Irresponsible. Once parked, I switched off the engine and broke down and cried. I didn’t care who saw me as I cupped my face with the sunglasses still on, in both of my hands and cried. My shoulders heaved as I was overcome by enormous sobs. I could hear Z distracting the pump attendant by asking her to get on with the filling up of the tank, when she asked what was wrong with me because she always sees me happy and always cheerful. I know these people. I always talk to them as I fill up my own tank. I would always be joking and smiling and laughing. They have no idea.

Once Z got back in the car, I pulled out of the gas station and drove like a maniac swerving here and there just to get home as quickly as I could. I went straight to my room, changed, washed my face and went to bed. I didn’t wake up till four hours later.

I was not embarrassed. I am way beyond that. But I was sorry for Z being caught in that situation when I really needed that moment of release. I don’t like making her feel uneasy. But I couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed by anger and frustration over some of the things I haven’t been able to handle very well these few days.

My asthma came back. The cold air at night and the cold water I have to bathe in in the morning is not helping me. I have the Ventolin Evohaler to help me, but the coughing was getting worse. I have trouble sleeping. It’s been more than two weeks since it started. I finally went to the clinic yesterday.

My cellphone was stolen again. By the same motherf*cker. How do I know? I know. I feel violated. Having to work with him makes it even worse.

I have other very personal things that’s been percolating in my head these few weeks that I am having trouble to overcome. I have no one to talk about them with. I have no way of helping someone very important to me. I couldn’t help when that person is in need. What kind of person does that make me?

I haven’t been sleeping well the past few weeks. All these thoughts haunts me. It makes me feel rotten inside. I can’t shake them off like I normally could with other issues of my life.

Happiness is a choice? Not when some of the things in your life is out of control and each day brings with it more and more proof that you are not worth the life you have and the easiest way out is that Exit on your wrist.

Note to self :

Life is never easy. You know you wouldn’t like it as much if it was, right? This will all come to pass and everything will be all right. In the end, it will always be all right. Everything will fall into place. You do want to be able to look back and be proud, knowing you handled them well, don’t you?

I have an inkling of what’s wrong with me. But that’s all self-diagnosis so far. And although I do have suicidal tendencies, I have enough self-worth to understand that no matter how low I fall, there is always hope for me to climb back up. And I keep coming back. I tell my kids here, suicide is never the answer because I believe in that. I strongly believe in that. I’ll never do it. I hope.

But what’ll happen when work doesn’t cut it anymore? When those who depend on me doesn’t matter anymore? When eternity in hell will not be so bad anymore? When it’s okay for me to give up…What then?

help

Some entries are really hard to write.

Because no matter how much editing is done, it will reflect back on you and what you are as a person, and as a person who practices my profession. It’s hard to convince people that my shortcomings in my personal life do not reflect who I am as a worker. Doing what I do, it is easy to forget that I too am human, who sometimes makes mistakes, big and little, and I too, am capable of losing my mind when I am faced with certain kinds of adversity. The good thing about people like me in whatever profession, is we deliver, regardless of the kinds of sh*t we have to go through each day, no matter how emotionally debilitating they might be.

There are days when I wish I don’t have to get out of bed. Feeling drained and emotionally empty. But thinking how ruinous it would be for a day of my absence, I still trudge on.

I am not saying that I am the epitome of discipline and commitment. I’m not. But I do my best and I am always willing to make the extra effort to be better because many are depending on me to be the strong one; the one who puts her foot down when handling all of the nonsense life throws at her. A person of reference. A foster parent. At least thinking of myself this way helps me to get out of bed every morning. My lifeline.

If not, I might have slit my wrist quite a while ago.

What a DQ…

Does anyone know how it feels like to have done everything in your power to do your best at work but still go home feeling useless?

Right this moment, work has managed to fill some of the voids left by these ‘stuff’ that I have yet achieved. So that urge to put out my own light has been kept at bay. I might be able to do that for the rest of my life, granted, I am able to write about it and put everything in perspective and really allow myself to see the causes of my bouts of depression when I am away from work.

But if this thing I am having gets worse as I get older, I might need more than writing to help myself. I guess I will cross that bridge when I get to it. But for now, I have my job, the kids at school and this blog to help me get through my days.

Don’t mind me deleting bad comments. It’s just a matter of either you or me.

games

On one of the blogs that I regularly read, there was an entry about how a man had to console a friend of his who just went through a terrible divorce. In his frustration, he ended the few paragraphs describing how terrible he felt about his friend’s suffering, criticizing women’s way of playing games with men’s hearts even when they know how much badly hooked they are on them. He knew how terrible it felt like because he was that friend of his a few years erliers

Let it be known in plain daylight that I am far from being upset over that statement, because I know it’s just a generalization anyone would say in situations like that. I myself have said things like that numerous times, because I can be one very frustrated person.

Besides, it is not all that wrong.

However, I did correct him, saying that “Some women AND men play that game” because I think I speak for everyone when I say, not all women and most certainly not too many men play these games.

I am guilty of having played that game once.

A long time ago, when I was very much a newbie at this thing called love and all its chemistry, I myself was guilty of this crime.. Not much of a looker and having gone through a rather manly phase in my life, I was always at my happiest minding my own business and found that maintaining a relationship with anyone during my school and uni years would be too much for me, had I found love. I only started a relationship when I had finished my studies and when I was already holding this post in this delightful little kampung. Oh, not with a local, although they have been very warm and friendly towards me, both men and women. And even that relationship was not something I was actually looking for but something I happened to stumble upon as I frequent a chatroom in cyberspace. Love was the remotest thing on my mind when it happened. His declaration of what we should be that night explained a lot of arguments we had because of my friendliness with all the rest in the chatroom. It was simply that, a friendliness that only a ‘manly’ girl would know because I did not visit that place with romance in mind.

Love makes me stupid. That, I know, because even when I knew it was wrong, I couldn’t say “No, I do not want this relationship with you.” And even though I am a Muslim woman, back then in my younger days, I have found trouble in understanding why on earth my faith allows men to have more than one wife if he can afford it. It was a total bollocks to me.

From this moment on, many will start thinking I am a harlot, luring honest married men into a whirlwind affair. I may not be blameless in the whole situation, but I do not agree with that statement that I lured him in. I was intrigued by him, honestly, but not that extent. But like I said, I was rendered foolish once it sets in. And no, it was not the s*x, because there was none going on.

For some reason, I felt that he could not have loved me enough and although I would like to blame that on the bipolar disorder and chemical imbalance condition I suspect myself of having, I was already a sane, grown woman, I should not have given him such a hard time and accepted the facts and trusted him.

Love is still a foreign thing for me. The kind that I wanted I actually had, but had to let go due to obvious reasons I do not wish to discuss any further in here. I don’t understand what love and all its complexities any more today than I did more than eight years ago, when I found myself having fallen for this man. Wrong as it was, I think it was love. Because he endured more amounts of sh*t any insecure woman could pile on any willing man.

Wonder if he was driven by some sort of sexual gratification? I don’t think so since he lived thousands of miles away. So what could it have been if it wasn’t the ‘L’ word? Not, I didn’t mean lust although, it might have played a role in the whole thing.

Over the years, having been on my own again, regaining my sanity and balance, I have managed to sort out some things especially on what I would like to have and should not be blamed for wanting too much of any one.

It’s simple, really. At least for me it is, because I don’t need to play any games to feel whole. Not anymore. I know who I am and where I stand. If he wants me he should take me as I am and the same goes for me. There is no use pretending or masking things up during the courting phase because it’s a fact that these facades will dissolve once you reach that comfort zone with your spouse. Once both of you go beyond the idealization phase of the relationship. Of course, there is room to accommodate some sort of trait modifications but not too much, as in any other normal and matured relationship. Now, the kind of modification I am talking about is the type where when you were single you can eat out every night if you want, but once married, there should be some restraint and more effort in preparing a good wholesome meal at home. More of the relationship nurturing bits of it all. Not the unnecessary plastic surgery kinds. But whatever makes you happy…

The fact is, once you have committed yourselves to the one (or two or three or even four for some people who can really handle it well) there should always be effort in maintaining the health and well-being of the relationship. Without the help of someone like me…

At the end of the day, it would not have happened if the man had not entertained her wiles and her love of being loved.

But while in love, mind games are fun to play. So, as long as both parties are willing, why not? And if one of you gets tired of it and want a more stable and healthy environment in which to nurture this new phase, make it known. I’m sure it can easily be rectified, if the partner is willing. But if he or she still wants to continue, maybe he or she is unwell and need to see the right kind of help. If you find that this is the kind of relationship that is most gratifying, feel free to pursue it even further. If you feel that you have the energy to invest in this, go on, but if not, move on. The feelings won’t be the same undoubtedly, but life is ever-changing, so don’t be afraid of something new, because it might be even more rewarding than the previous one.

stolen

Sesungguhnya Allah tidak akan menduga iman hambaNya dengan sesuatu yang tak termampu ditanggung olehnya. Walaupun ianya berkali-kali.

I lost my cellphone again today. Stolen is the more likely word for it. The second time in three years. Just four minutes of carelessness had granted him the chance to grab it from my backpack in my office. I had the cellphone on me all day today, except that 4 minutes when I left the backpack in my office to go to the bathroom. Later on during the afternoon, when I reached for it to check if there was a message, it was gone.

It's the same thing three years ago. In my laptop bag, in my office. Just a month old, stolen.

You will think I am careless. I will say you're a bastard, because you don't know me. Unlike some people who keep losing their cellphone time and time again buying a new one to replace them, I don't have that kind of money to burn and I do get attached to most of the things I own. I don't lay my things around unattended. I don't leave my things behind on the dining table at the restaurant. And I don't lose things because I leave them laying around. So being careful with my things is in fact my second nature.

But it's happened and there is no use crying over spilled milk. Nothing I can do except pray that the bastard will fry in hell for violating me this way more than once.

And I don't give a sh*t for that fool me twice shame on me kind of sh*t.

I will miss the cellphone, because it's a good gadget that had been very useful to me. Just the right weight and size for my hand, although it has 3G capabilities, it doesn't have the other nonsense peripherals I'll never use. I will get myself a new phone, but I can never really replace her. She had been a very good friend to me. She gently wakes me up every morning with a soft piano intro of a song. And when I am lonely and need to see a familiar face, she'll always be more than glad to share the photos she has with me. She reminds me of birthdays. And she makes the distance seem like nothing when I need to feel loved. I will never get myself the same model not because there are so many new ones out there, but simply because getting a new one exactly like her is a betrayal of her memory. So dramatic, you might think. What can I say? I loved having her around.

I know, it's just stuff. I will get myself a new one, but most of the things I will miss most and will never get back on that phone are the more than 1000 text messages from loved ones and well-wishers and the various notes I have jotted down and stored on the notepad. I will eventually get most of the 500 or so numbers I had on the phone back, and even the number itself, having blocked it right afterwards. I will get the new sim card with the old number as soon as I can get to KK since there is no Celcom outlet in Lawas.

However, I am trying very hard not to be tempted into badmouthing a certain someone for being such an insensitive tunggul.

He is a tunggul. That's all I can say. For now.

how would i have known?

Do you know what happened today? Of course not, so I'm gonna tell you.

Last Monday, was still a holiday for us, so the girls and I spent the day at home. We were all online. But suddenly, we all went offline. So I went down to see what's wrong with the router. The internet LED was not even on. I rebooted the thing. It still won't work so I called the hotline to make an inquiry.

There was no problem. So they said they will send their technicians ASAP to see what is going on and find a way to rectify the matter.

Tuesday, they came over after we all came home from work. They looked at it, tried logging on with the modem and stuff. They couldn't.

I tried logging on and tried setting the internet connection through the adsl website or something. The thing was, I couldn't even dial myself in that day. So the set up was unsuccessful. Then the tchnicians kept telling me that the modem/router might be broken because it simply would not connect to the internet.

So they said they will try contacting another unit which would be able to handle the situation better. We said, okay. We'll wait another day. But I still tried to reconnect when they were gone, but it wouldn't work.

Then I placed another complaint. Actually I called to ask them if they know how to reset the auto dialler in the modem so it would be able to remain logged on. But then we ended up doing other things. He helped me reconfigure my ip and all that other stuff. Still, it won't work, and they will contact the technicians to help me.

Thursday, the same people came. Same results.

Friday, we bought a new modem/adsl g router.

The girls urged me to come home quickly (the left without me after school because I had to stay back at school) to set the whole thing. They tried but it won't work. So I came home, installed the wizard and everything and tried and tried to set the auto dialler connection on the website after getting the wireless signal working.

I tried and tried, the computer keeps dropping the connection.

We went for dinner. Came home and I got back to work. The girls sat around me as I worked. They were as frustrated as I was, hoping that I would find the way around the problem.

Then they grew tired of waiting and decided to retire for the night. I kept working.

Then I thought, since I have figured out how to connect to the website through the modem to set up the auto dialler / connect, I might be able to do the same with the old modem, because that might simply be the problem; improper set up. That might simply be the reason why the Internet LED won't light up.

So I unplugged the new modem and put the old one back in its place. I did what I did with the new modem and voila... I was logged on again. The modem was not broken at all.

I text messaged Z who was in her room upstairs to try logging on to our old wireless network. She got in on the first try. M did too.

I feel sorry for the girls because of the new modem. But they were cool about it, because at least now they can log on again. Not like the past few days, with Astro acting up again. They have managed to watch their shows on tv3.com instead of on tv.

So now we'll wait for the astro technician to come over and recalibrate our satellite dish if that is the problem.

So would anyone be interested in buying a brand spanking new Aztech G ADSL Wireless Router?

tmi time!

Random facts about me.

I’m not an internet celebrity. I am not even a well-known blogger. But I remember Bella tagging me for something, like 5 random facts about me. But that was ages ago. Not that I forgot. It’s always been brewing in my head, but I have never had the time or the guts to write it, because sometimes, I do lose what I know about myself. I change. All the time. But at the same time, there are things about me that is stagnant.

Anyways, here it is, random facts about me. I am not sure how many because from now on, I will keep updating this entry till I have figured myself out.

Again, let me remind you, I am doing this for myself. I am not asking anyone to read it.

1. I am full of myself.
God, how can I not start with this one? Look, I even have a blog where I write about nothing but nonsense, most of them about myself, to prove it.

But I’d like to look at this in a more positive light by saying that I am not just simply put, full of myself. There are things about me that other people do not know that of course embarrasses me and might probably kill me if anyone finds out, but I am willing to accept that as a part of myself as much as the good things about me because these are the things that make me whole and because in life, there is no black and white. There is always a grey area. We need both the white and the black for balance. I don’t wanna be like Snow White because she is pathetic. Yeah, she is cute and innocent and all things nice, but if she could put a little back bone into herself, she could have stood up against her evil step mother with all that woodland creature at her disposal. Instead, she was such a bimbo. I don’t want to be a damsel in distress, because sometimes it’s more fun to be the swash buckling pirate sailing the oceans of the world. And like that lady who played Cruella Deville said once, the baddies always get to wear the fancier clothes. Oh they do! They do!

2. I hate doing laundry.
I do. That’s why I just do it once a week.

3. When I do my laundry, I make sure everything belongs together.
Tees with tees, blouses with blouses, jeans with jeans, bras with bras and so on and so forth. That is a must. And my hangers must match. I hate mismatched hangers. Especially in my closet.

4. Sometimes I laugh out loud all of a sudden.
I’d be driving, everything is quiet and calm. And all of a sudden I would laugh out loud or swear at something. My mind would be wandering off and I'd remember things from my past that could be funny or embarrassing. Z thought I was crazy, but she has learned to ignore the sudden outburst, since.

5. I swear. A lot. When I am pissed off over something.
Don’t say my parents didn’t teach me otherwise. They did. Come on, I am gonna be 32 soon, I should know better, right? Right. But I just find that swearing gives me a release no amount of deep breathing could give me. I do not condone swearing, it just works for me. I will definitely wash my kids’ mouth with soap if I catch them swearing in my presence. But once they are of age, I am not gonna stop them from doing it as long as it is not too much, too loudly or unnecessarily.

I don’t do name-calling though. I think that is too rude and too much insensitivity. No one deserves that kind of treatment from anyone.

6. I am very bad at mathematics.
I am. Simply. I am just not much of a problem solver perhaps. Or I just couldn’t be bovvered. How about my life’s problems, you ask? I ask myself that question too sometimes. But everything seems to settle itself, in time, so I have not had too much problem there. But when it comes to work, I’ll put more effort into it, so I am able to solve quite a few over the years. I wouldn’t be where I am if I hadn’t been a problem solver now, would I?

I might have been a lazy student of the subject when I was in school, or perhaps I just can’t be bovvered. I’m just not into numbers.

7. I spend too much.
On everything and nothing. How can I explain that? I am a compulsive spender. If there is one thing about me that I can change, I’d change this.

8. I sleep too much.
I do. I go to bed at 8 nowadays. On weekdays, I sleep at 8. On weekends, I sleep in. I don’t take naps anymore, except on Fridays.

9. I wake up at 4am every morning.
Then I will sleep one more hour and then get up and get ready for work.

10. I have no stamina what-so-ever.
I can walk all day. But I can’t for the love of God, run for 10 minutes. I’d die. I’d have shin-split and my chest will feel like it is exploding.

I do find running a very healthy and smart thing to do and have tried it many times in my life, to delightful results in weight reduction and toning of the body, but I tend to go into long relapses that I don’t feel like getting out of, resulting on the increase in the size of my booty. Well, more like all over increase of everything, really. Who am I kidding?

11. I have a volatile relationship with my mother.
Do I envy other girls for having the kind of relationship with their mothers? Sometimes. But how would one miss something one never had? I remember the cuddles and hair brushing and the other little things, but as I grow older, we just grew apart. My mom’s military style of raising me didn’t really help. I don’t blame her. I needed the structure. Even now when I am not exactly the epitome of discipline, I make sure that most things in my life is in order. Of course, mine can’t be as orderly as mom’s was, but I am doing what I can.

12. I strongly believe in the “Spare the cane, spoil the child” adage.
No, I am not emulating my parents’ way of teaching their children. I have simply realized that a little bit of pain as punishment of a wrong doing at a young age, is crucial. Because once they reach their teens, it would be too late.

I got my fair share when I was younger. And I don’t hate my parents for it. I deserved every single bit of it, and I love them even more to have had the guts to inflict that pain on me against the fact that love should be painless, so I would learn my lesson.

13. I am totally grossed out by frogs and toads.
Even dead frogs. I step around them. Not over them, afraid that it would spring back to life and bite me or something. I am also afraid that I might get warts from toads. Urgh…! *goosebumps*

14. I brush my teeth three times a day.

15. I shower three times a day.

16. Because I perspire excessively.
Especially when I am nervous or if it is a particularly hot day.

17. I get nervous easily.

18. It will be difficult to make me stop yakking when I am nervous.

19. I have stage fright.

20. Although I do love performing in acts.
I do love acting. I was Sir Toby of Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night when I was in my first year of Bachelor’s Degree. I was quite good considering the feedback I got from lecturers and the audience after the show. I was also one of the three witches in Macbeth. I was also offered a part by the father of one of my coursemates who was a film director. That was back in 99. But I was too chicken sh*t to actually took up the role. I turned it down. I could have done it on the side! Another one of my many life’s regrets.

21. I sang solo once, on stage.
It was in 2001, at the closing ceremony of our Induction Course. Everyone in my team was too bashful to be the solo, pushing and nudging each other. It’s not like it was the Grammy’s or anything! I got so irritated that I volunteered to do the solo. It was the Puteri Santubong song. When the time came, and I sang the solo bit, the hall went quiet.

Three years later, the VIP from the event that night who is a very tall and curly haired man, with a mighty moustache, came to my school for a visit. He looked at me, and said, “Hey, aren’t you the one who sang solo of that song that night at the closing ceremony?”

One thing I know, you have to be either really good, or really, really bad to be remembered after so long.

22. I am a jack of all trades. Sort of.
I can do anything if I set my mind to it. I’ve done girly things and I have done manly stuff. It’s just a matter of wanting or not wanting to do something.
I used to make kites for the neighborhood kids, for free. And they fly.
I can change my own flat tire.
I can do my own plumbing.
I can change my own door knob.
I can pretty much do most DIY projects.
But the fact remains, I am a lazy ass.

23. I smell like my dad.
It’s embarrassing. Tell me about it! Eversince I hit puberty that has been my problem. I use deodorants and natural salts, but the fact that I sweat like a hog, doesn’t really help matters. But I actually love taking showers, hence. I wish I can be like my mom, she does not smell I tell ya and she never uses deodorants.

But at least I don’t have smelly feet. Thank God for that!

24. I don’t like talking on the phone.
I prefer text. And only if it is really important. But I call my mom cuz mom doesn’t do text.

25. I like cooking.
But I am the ‘do whatever is in the fridge’ kind instead of the ‘I wanna have meatloaf tonight, so I am gonna go buy the stuff I’ll need’ kind.

26. I scream and yell later when I am alone when I have done something embarrassing.
I will scream and yell when the memory pops up later in my life. And they will continue to haunt me.

27. I talk in my sleep.
In English. As my room mates have told me and later on confirmed by my mom when I asked her. She never told me before that. I found out during secondary school.

28. I prefer sleeping on my side.
Instead of lying flat on my back.

29. I have acute back pain sometimes.
Because I was such a Badang of a girl when I was younger, I used to lift heavy things the wrong way, injuring my back. Nowadays, people don’t believe me when I tell them I can’t do heavy-lifting. I’ll do it anyway, only if I have to. Because ladies do not lift heavy loads.

Hey, I’m just fat. I am not a cow, okay?

30. I know about most things, but I am a scholar to none.

31. I don’t understand soccer and basketball and most popular sport and I don’t bother learning.

32. I don’t particularly love reading.
But I will if it is a really good book, and if I am really really bored at that moment. And when I do, I read really slow because I really love to feel how the words move on my mind’s tongue. I like doing that so much sometimes it takes me months to finish one book. If that makes any sense to any of you. The fact that I keep reading the same lines again and again just makes it even harder to finish a book.

The last time I read a mushy romance novel was when I was in uni. I have since quit reading those because they are totally misleading. And don’t get me started on the escapism of it all.

33. I only trust my sister.

34. I think I should have made pretty good counselor.
Nothing major so far. Mostly one to one cases.

35. I am a pack rat.
I have trouble parting with things I don’t use anymore. I used to keep things that are broken, thinking I will come around to fixing it one day. Sometimes I feel like the thing will feel sad if I throw it away.

I know that is sick, that is why I am trying not to be.

36. I am very much like my mom.
I am beginning to see it now. I look like her. Most part of my face looks like her. I have curly hair, just like her. I have to put on make up before I go to work, just like her. I think I will be a military mom just like her. I know I love tableware and I buy them. But I am not doing that anymore at the moment, because I don’t know where I’ll put them if I keep buying them. I am strong-willed like her. I am a survivor, just like her.

37. I am also like my dad.
I have his jawline and chin. I have his feet. The same size. I am short like him. I smell like him. I love knives. Buying them, sharpening them. Admiring them when I am not buying them. I have more than I need in my kitchen. And when I go home I buy more for my mom to use, but that’s because she keeps losing some. I am interested in architecture and always find myself mesmerized in figuring out how a structure is built. My dad was a jack of all trades. He built houses. He made furniture. He built a Vespa from salvaged parts. He fixed things. I wish I learned everything from him.

38. I have mood swings.
Terrible, terrible mood swings.

The highest highs and the lowest lows.

39. I have ADD.
I didn’t know about it till I was 28. I am still learning to handle it.

40. I used to want to be a boy.
But when I saw how gross an over 40 tomboy looks like, I changed my mind. Now I am sort of a girly girl with a very high sense of adventure.

41. I LOVE driving.
Especially long-distance. Because if I am not driving, I would be sleeping and missing out on the beautiful scenery that I love so much. I could have been a truck driver if I am not teaching.

42. I used to hate the color green.
I used to think it is the ugliest color and only look good on plants and nothing else.

43. My favorite and only color for a car is metallic silver.
Any other color on a car just does not work for me. Sorry.

44. I won’t buy anything new until the old one is broken.
Like my watch and my cellphone. I only have one of each. Well, two cell phones. But that’s because it was my mom’s and it was sort of broken. So I bought her a new one and when felt sorry for it to just sell it off so I kept it and now it is all better again, so I kept it. But I’ll keep using it till it is really, really broken and can’t be fixed.

45. I prefer older men.
Anyone younger than I am is a turn off. Oh I know you haters would say “Well, that’s because you are fat and desperate for a sperm donor.” Hah! Who cares what you think?

I just don’t like men my age. Daddy issues? I don’t know. I have never been to a psychiatrist, but I don’t remember having a bad relationship with my dad or if he had been absent during my formative years. Forget about that.

I just prefer them older Eversince I knew what men are really for in the whole scheme of things, I have always preferred them older than me. That’s all. And not sloppy old people. Below fifty and fit and well-dressed. A bit of a belly is not a problem.

46. I am very bad at keeping friends.

47. I can’t remember names.
But I will remember faces forever.

49. I love the rain.

50. I love the smell of grass after it’s been mowed.

51. I used to care for babies when I was attending uni.
I stayed at home cuz uni was just behind my housing area. I was actually helping my mom, I ended up taking over because I loved it so much.

52. I hate seeing kids being rude to elders.
I’d smack them right then and there if I can have my way.

I’d definitely smack mine if they dare.

53. I don’t celebrate my birthdays.

54. I can only remember my family’s birthdays.
And a few friends. I don’t remember dates very well.

55. I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.
And the Roman new year. I’m a Muslim. We should not be easily blinded by popular culture brought in by foreign cultures. No offence to anyone, I just don’t. No, I am not a party pooper. I just don’t see why we should emulate the values that are not even Eastern such as these.

56. I hate crowds.
I have never even been to a concert. I even find attending a traditional Malay wedding reception a chore.

57. I am addicted to food.
Go figure!

58. I am addicted to the internet.

59. I don’t smoke.

60. I have never drunk anything alcoholic.
It’s just a personal choice. I’m just very afraid of being dependent on any kind of substance which I feel would be such a waste, so I keep away.

61. I haven’t had sex.
Again, a personal choice. Boy, I can imagine the kinds of lame jokes that could spring from this one. I’ll just give those haters out there the finger.

62. I’m happy with my fat self.
What can I say? I am. I was thin for a short while, due to dieting and exercise, and all I got was some sleazy looks from men. It made me feel sick to my stomach, because I was not used to the kind of attention. So I went back to fat. No more sleazy looks. I do miss the cute clothes I could have been wearing now. But I have always been more of a shoe person anyway.

For the thin people who thinks I am toxic and I'd die from being fat pretty soon, I would like to tell you that I have Low cholesterol level, and I don't abuse substances. Even if I do contract diabetes and hi BP, why do you care? You're not gonna be the one wiping my ass when that comes to pass now, would you? So shut your trap.

63. I get emotional over nothing sometimes.

64. I hate being teased.

So I never tease people.

65. I believe in karma.
Because I always get things I did to other people flung back into my face. So I try not to be too nasty to other, simply because I am afraid of eating too much humble pie. I’m not nice.

66. I am not a very modest person sometimes.
Because sometimes, I do get full of myself. That is when I wait for the humble pie to come, because it always does.

67. I am shy.
But people misunderstand my nervous yakking as confidence.

68. I am a Virgo born in the year of the Dragon.

69. I love and need my vegetables.

70. People mistake me as younger than my age by a few years.
They'd usually think I am younger than I really am.

71. I have a sense of humor.
It ranges from plain weird to dirty. No, I don’t do jokes on command.

72. I love movies.
I know most Hollywood actors by name. It’s not a useful thing to know. I know.

73. I love singing.
But I don’t need Simon Cowell to tell me I have a bad voice. I never will have a good singing voice, but I love singing, so I either wait till I do get a pretty singing voice and never sing at all, or I can just sing anyway. Mostly when I am alone. Or when the stereo is on in the car, and I never exceed the sound of the stereo itself.

74. I love my mom’s cooking.
I wish I can cook like her.

75. I am a lazy ass.

76. I find solace and tranquility in a body of water.
Lakes and creeks and the sea soothes me.

77. Lying afloat in calm waters is therapeutic for me.

78. I hate massages.
Because I have a very low threshold of pain.

79. I like giving massages.
I used to give my dad massages. Oi! Nothing kinky. My dad is just that kind. He works really hard in the day time and he gets all this aches and stiffness all over. The least I can do I massage his back and rub his feet!

80. I have tonsillitis.
I would like to have my tonsils removed soon because I am sick and tired of having high fever whenever they are infected.

81. I don’t have green fingers like my mom and dad.
I can’t even grow papaya. It’s the easiest thing to grow! Just scatter the seed and watch it grow. I can’t even do that cuz they'd just die. It's like my hands have electric currents that would just kill the seeds.

82. I love learning about the English Language.

83. I love cats and dogs.
But I can only have a cat and only one cat at a time. I don’t like noisy or needy cats though.

84. I once had a gay cat.
But I loved him anyway. He died of FIV.

85. I prefer listening to English songs to Malays.

I feel that although both languages are partial to love songs, I find that the English rely more on the lyrics than excessively melancholic melodies like some Malay songs. That to me, is tiresome. But I am open to some new generation Malay songs, I heard they are quite good. But I am just a little lazy to find them myself.

86. I don’t like sharing my bed with other people except my sister.
I know I dream when I sleep, but I never remember what I dreamed. I do things when I dream. I don’t want to wake up while I am passionately embracing or kicking my bedmate.

87. I snore.
Especially loud when I am excessively tired.

88. I love every bit of my physical self.
Flabs and all. But the part I love most would be my lips.

89. My earwax is the gooey orange-colored type.
Oops! Did I just say that out loud?

90. Sometimes I have internal monologues, externally.
Which makes me look like a crazy person. Or simply a person on a hands-free kit talking on the phone.

91. I can only work at work.
I'd bring my work home to continue working when the load is too much. But I never get around to actually doing it. The home is not a conducive place for me to work. What with the TV and internet and the bedroom. Augh!

92. I do stupid things when I feel unloved and neglected.

93. I am genuinely happy when people I know are happy.
Not that I am implying that the rest of you are just faking it. I feel it to the core of my being.

94. I can be quite the green eyed monster.

95. I am a fairly tolerant person.

96. I am a nasty, nasty person when I am angry.

97. I once fell asleep in the middle of a field.
After I lied there watching the stars at night after an upsetting situation at home. My ex scolded me for being so foolish because someone might have raped me.

98. I have leg hair like a man's legs.
That’s why I keep them waxed. I don’t know why. They just are. I figured it must be something like what’s happening in the US where female teenagers have over-developed mammaries due to drinking milk from dairy cows that have been injected with hormones that promotes milk production. That sort of thing. Maybe.

99. I am over protective of my friends.

100. I can ride a 700cc Vulcan.

101. I love garlic.
Love, love, LOVE garlic.

102. Favorite ice cream flavors are chocolate and vanilla with butterscotch syrup.

103. I prefer sleeping ___________ But nevermind.