Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Home
Another summer day, has come and gone away, in Paris and Rome, but I wanna go home..... - Michael Buble, HomeI miss home so very badly.
I miss YDM.
I miss Sarah and Jas crashing at my place after school.
I miss getting yelled at by Mr Arul.
I miss talking for hours on the phone with Tash, Naz and Jas.
I miss being matchmade with half of Brunei by friends desperate for me to finally crack.
I miss making noise in tuition with Krys, Jas, Sarathy and Naz respectively.
I miss making nonsense recordings with Naz.
I miss Mala's house.
I miss walking around Brunei in the rain, just letting it wash away all problems.
I miss feeling as close to God as I did there.
I miss worship teaming with Ches, Joel, Laurice, Grace and the rest of them.
I miss playing cards with Teo, Lyn and the gang.
I miss Mrs Han's Chemistry class.
I miss Youth Camp.
I miss Josh and Teo and my guys.
I miss piano lessons with Siti.
I miss competing with Teo and gloating the very few times I beat him.
I miss Jamuna Aunty and the beautiful evenings she spent singing to us.
I miss rant sessions with Vee and Lyn.
I miss talking earrings with Fel.
I miss the Dysfunctional Royals.
I miss hugging Swee Mei and Mel every morning.
I miss April being "My Sunshine".
I miss camwhoring with Parks and Divs.
I miss walking Mala and Jas to the toilet.
I miss Mala and my Popia ritual.
I miss Useni Aunty's dance class and her yelling at me to "SIT DOWN IN ARAIMANDI!!!!"
I miss Mala saying "Sangs, let's get a milo. YOU'RE BROKE AGAIN?"
I miss raiding Ego for cheap pretty jewellery.
I miss oily Pasar food.
I miss baller-spotting with Krystle.
I miss Nice Eyes and MiHo.
I miss paedophiling on miniature good looking kids in F2.
I miss the Pasar kebabs, kway teow and kolo mee.
I miss being everyone's favourite shrink.
I miss BRUNEI.
My haven, my joy, my beautiful home,
Where I end matters not, there I start,
If home indeed is where the heart is,
In short, friend, I MISS MY HEART.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Sellout?! What Sellout!?
Ok, so yes, I'm a sellout.
BUT IT WAS MY IDEA IN THE FIRST PLACE, BIATCHEEZE!
Er. Ok, never mind, I just can't pull it off.
This is from my old friendster blog, remember the one with the insanely long URL being the reason I switched to Bloggerdom in the first place? VELL, I liked this one and it's becoming more and more relevant, what with the impending arrival of my ultimately uberfab siblings who have, most likely, NOT LOST WEIGHT....I love you, DoorMat and BathMat, BUT THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.
So, for your viewing displeasure:
THE FIVE EVIL OLD-PEOPLE TACTICS MY PARENTS USE AS OH SO WITTY EUPHEMISMS FOR "YOU'RE FAT"
It always applies, no matter what I'm saying to them. For ezgample:
Me: Ma, look! A bird!
1. The Direct Method
Ma: You're fat.
2. The Indirect Method
Ma: Yes, its quite a FAT bird, isn't it?
3. The "We're Only Doing Our Duties As Parents" Method
Ma: Hmmph....I bet its parents never told IT to lose weight.
4. The "We're SERIOUSLY Not Shallow, Just Worried About Your Health" Method
Ma: What an ugly fat bird. *pause* And um, just think how unhealthy it is, what with coronary heart disease and birdiabetes being so common nowadays...
5. And This One's So Sad, It Doesn't Even Deserve A Name
Ma: I wonder how its mother will get it married.....*starts mumbling about Shaadi dot com*
Sadly, I kid you not.
THIS IS WHAT I LIVE WITH PEOPLE, THIS IS A CRY FOR HELP!!!!!!!
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go eat some chocolate before they get home from their walk and muss the bed covers so it *looks* like I did my crunches.
BUT IT WAS MY IDEA IN THE FIRST PLACE, BIATCHEEZE!
Er. Ok, never mind, I just can't pull it off.
This is from my old friendster blog, remember the one with the insanely long URL being the reason I switched to Bloggerdom in the first place? VELL, I liked this one and it's becoming more and more relevant, what with the impending arrival of my ultimately uberfab siblings who have, most likely, NOT LOST WEIGHT....I love you, DoorMat and BathMat, BUT THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.
So, for your viewing displeasure:
THE FIVE EVIL OLD-PEOPLE TACTICS MY PARENTS USE AS OH SO WITTY EUPHEMISMS FOR "YOU'RE FAT"
It always applies, no matter what I'm saying to them. For ezgample:
Me: Ma, look! A bird!
1. The Direct Method
Ma: You're fat.
2. The Indirect Method
Ma: Yes, its quite a FAT bird, isn't it?
3. The "We're Only Doing Our Duties As Parents" Method
Ma: Hmmph....I bet its parents never told IT to lose weight.
4. The "We're SERIOUSLY Not Shallow, Just Worried About Your Health" Method
Ma: What an ugly fat bird. *pause* And um, just think how unhealthy it is, what with coronary heart disease and birdiabetes being so common nowadays...
5. And This One's So Sad, It Doesn't Even Deserve A Name
Ma: I wonder how its mother will get it married.....*starts mumbling about Shaadi dot com*
Sadly, I kid you not.
THIS IS WHAT I LIVE WITH PEOPLE, THIS IS A CRY FOR HELP!!!!!!!
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go eat some chocolate before they get home from their walk and muss the bed covers so it *looks* like I did my crunches.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Why We Blog
Blogs are almost always started out with a selfish motive: getting your emotions out, showing the world what a kickass author you are, airing your own opinions, or even giving out subtle hints for people who....you know....youcareaboutsomuchbutforthelifeofyoucan'tconnectwith.
But eventually, as you start reading other people's blogs and all, you realize just how much something someone says can affect you. I come back after the Senior Social today...was fun but I'm confused...and I'm missing Jester badly...he was there and all but you know that whole "so close and yet so far" thing? SO YES, SOB STORY OVER.
Anyway, the first thing when I did when I got online was check out my daily reads. Honestly, one of the nicest things ever, the main thing to brighten your day, is when your favourite author updates. Posts something up for you to think about. Tells you how THEIR day went.
And we see a bit of a shift here. While we start out reading and writing blogs for out own furtherment, we end up nearly feeding off of each other. In the most positive sense, that is. You can have an absolutely crap day, then come back and read about someone who had a similar day, and you don't feel quite so alone anymore.
Notice how, in a world of 7 billion people, it's still SO VERY EASY to feel so alone?
I don't even know what this post is FOR.
But to all of y'all who post about your supposedly boring days, or your humourous experiences, or things that make you cry, or people that bring joy to your lives....keep doing it. Because odds are, you're not just doing it for you anymore.
You bring such a beautiful personal sense of human connection to an otherwise unemotional, robotic information superhighway. The knowledge that not so long ago, someone was feeling just as bad, or equally as good, as you were.
Try feeling lonely with that floating around.
But eventually, as you start reading other people's blogs and all, you realize just how much something someone says can affect you. I come back after the Senior Social today...was fun but I'm confused...and I'm missing Jester badly...he was there and all but you know that whole "so close and yet so far" thing? SO YES, SOB STORY OVER.
Anyway, the first thing when I did when I got online was check out my daily reads. Honestly, one of the nicest things ever, the main thing to brighten your day, is when your favourite author updates. Posts something up for you to think about. Tells you how THEIR day went.
And we see a bit of a shift here. While we start out reading and writing blogs for out own furtherment, we end up nearly feeding off of each other. In the most positive sense, that is. You can have an absolutely crap day, then come back and read about someone who had a similar day, and you don't feel quite so alone anymore.
Notice how, in a world of 7 billion people, it's still SO VERY EASY to feel so alone?
I don't even know what this post is FOR.
But to all of y'all who post about your supposedly boring days, or your humourous experiences, or things that make you cry, or people that bring joy to your lives....keep doing it. Because odds are, you're not just doing it for you anymore.
You bring such a beautiful personal sense of human connection to an otherwise unemotional, robotic information superhighway. The knowledge that not so long ago, someone was feeling just as bad, or equally as good, as you were.
Try feeling lonely with that floating around.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Dear Lord
Dear Lord Jesus,
First of all, I'd like to thank you. Simply because there were circumstances in my own family that could have forced me to turn out differently. That my mother, having already had two much older kids, was older than most moms, but that I still turned out OK.
Thank you, Lord, that I am able to bring thick books onto the bus and read them. It is through no merit of mine, or through any fault of hers, that I can read 700 pages with relative ease and she needs help reading 7, but through your amazing, undeserved grace.
I could have been content, Lord, just being normal. Being able to look at something, puzzle over it for a few hours and understand. But you, Lord, are a gracious God who rewards people who don't deserve it. You made me more than normal, you gave me a heart for learning and a mind able to keep up with that heart.
I thank you, Lord Jesus, that there are things that worry me, that confuse me, that even anger me. Things that make me wonder. Things like why some people are born a certain way.....and others are not. For it is these things that keep me from getting complacent and comfortable, and worst of all, smug. I thank you for giving me at least enough faith in you to realize that it's no ones' fault, and that you DO have a plan that will somehow make it all clear and perfect.
I pray, oh Lord, that one day, you will allow her to understand these things on her own, no matter how old she is, for then she will be able to comprehend the full beauty of things around her. That when she looks at a cascading waterfall, stars in the heavens or a rainbow as it cuts across the cornflower sky, what she really sees is you.
As you are teaching me to do now.
For it is you, Lord Jesus, that shines from within her eyes, from the eyes of the children you love and from whom you seek nothing but a miniscule portion of that love, in return.
Thank you, Lord Jesus, Amen.
First of all, I'd like to thank you. Simply because there were circumstances in my own family that could have forced me to turn out differently. That my mother, having already had two much older kids, was older than most moms, but that I still turned out OK.
Thank you, Lord, that I am able to bring thick books onto the bus and read them. It is through no merit of mine, or through any fault of hers, that I can read 700 pages with relative ease and she needs help reading 7, but through your amazing, undeserved grace.
I could have been content, Lord, just being normal. Being able to look at something, puzzle over it for a few hours and understand. But you, Lord, are a gracious God who rewards people who don't deserve it. You made me more than normal, you gave me a heart for learning and a mind able to keep up with that heart.
I thank you, Lord Jesus, that there are things that worry me, that confuse me, that even anger me. Things that make me wonder. Things like why some people are born a certain way.....and others are not. For it is these things that keep me from getting complacent and comfortable, and worst of all, smug. I thank you for giving me at least enough faith in you to realize that it's no ones' fault, and that you DO have a plan that will somehow make it all clear and perfect.
I pray, oh Lord, that one day, you will allow her to understand these things on her own, no matter how old she is, for then she will be able to comprehend the full beauty of things around her. That when she looks at a cascading waterfall, stars in the heavens or a rainbow as it cuts across the cornflower sky, what she really sees is you.
As you are teaching me to do now.
For it is you, Lord Jesus, that shines from within her eyes, from the eyes of the children you love and from whom you seek nothing but a miniscule portion of that love, in return.
Thank you, Lord Jesus, Amen.
Monday, June 12, 2006
Dan, Ma Man!!
Dear Mr. Brown,
What did I ever do to you?! Now, what you have against the great live JC I don't care much for since, well, we all know you're going to hell anyway, but ME?!
Kindly let me elaborate.
I'm not sure if you MEANT for your book to hit my parents right square in the Christian rear, but see, it did. Currently, they are listening to Rhema.fm to a broadcast by (insert name of bigass Christian author who's sold more than 100, count em, 100! copies here), saying your literary masterpiece is crap, evil crap, evil blasphemous crap, you get the picture. And sir, they are currently looking at me with the condescending smugness of adults who *believe* they have been proven right.
They have never been right.
See, they believe that once I read your book, 16 years of Christianness will evaporate, and I will suddenly start leading Anti-Christian crusades, burning crosses, boycotting the Blue Cross (simply for having the word Cross in it) and convert to Islam.
They, according to themselves, have saved me from this. From eternal damnation to the flaming pits of Lucifer himself.
Much as I believe in literary freedom sir, I would like to assure you that I one of those incredibly boring individuals who has never smoked, drank, screwed around, flunked out of school, been suspended, expelled or in fact been anywhere out of the top 5 in class. I put oil in my hair and tie it up for school, I don't wear tight clothes, I don't yell at my grandma, I don't secretly skin cats and frame their furs, I am not a closet vampire or any of the above.
Why do I tell you this?
BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!
For chris(who come on, man, we both know is not married)sake, man, cut me some slack!!!!!
I'd almost rather have them lecturing me about my non weight problem!!!!!!
So now, as a FORMAL apology, if I have ever called your momma fat, stepped on your toe, cut you in line, egged your house, hurt your ego, called you a pig, mocked your bald spot or TP'ed your grandpa's apartment, I'm TRULY sorry.
Now for the sake of all that's holy, please, PLEASE issue a press release stating either that: 1) Your evil twin brother Jim wrote the book, drugged you and used your name to market it, or 2) That you have met the Lord Jesus Christ, found he's not married, and have decided to donate your fortune to feeding starving chihuahuas. Or Nicole Richie, both work just fine.
Oh no wait, hold on a sec. Nicole Richie is a celebrity, therefore according to my parents, is on her way to hell too. Might as well cover all our bases.
Sincerely Yours,
Sana RJ
What did I ever do to you?! Now, what you have against the great live JC I don't care much for since, well, we all know you're going to hell anyway, but ME?!
Kindly let me elaborate.
I'm not sure if you MEANT for your book to hit my parents right square in the Christian rear, but see, it did. Currently, they are listening to Rhema.fm to a broadcast by (insert name of bigass Christian author who's sold more than 100, count em, 100! copies here), saying your literary masterpiece is crap, evil crap, evil blasphemous crap, you get the picture. And sir, they are currently looking at me with the condescending smugness of adults who *believe* they have been proven right.
They have never been right.
See, they believe that once I read your book, 16 years of Christianness will evaporate, and I will suddenly start leading Anti-Christian crusades, burning crosses, boycotting the Blue Cross (simply for having the word Cross in it) and convert to Islam.
They, according to themselves, have saved me from this. From eternal damnation to the flaming pits of Lucifer himself.
Much as I believe in literary freedom sir, I would like to assure you that I one of those incredibly boring individuals who has never smoked, drank, screwed around, flunked out of school, been suspended, expelled or in fact been anywhere out of the top 5 in class. I put oil in my hair and tie it up for school, I don't wear tight clothes, I don't yell at my grandma, I don't secretly skin cats and frame their furs, I am not a closet vampire or any of the above.
Why do I tell you this?
BECAUSE I DON'T DESERVE THIS!!!!!!!!!!
For chris(who come on, man, we both know is not married)sake, man, cut me some slack!!!!!
I'd almost rather have them lecturing me about my non weight problem!!!!!!
So now, as a FORMAL apology, if I have ever called your momma fat, stepped on your toe, cut you in line, egged your house, hurt your ego, called you a pig, mocked your bald spot or TP'ed your grandpa's apartment, I'm TRULY sorry.
Now for the sake of all that's holy, please, PLEASE issue a press release stating either that: 1) Your evil twin brother Jim wrote the book, drugged you and used your name to market it, or 2) That you have met the Lord Jesus Christ, found he's not married, and have decided to donate your fortune to feeding starving chihuahuas. Or Nicole Richie, both work just fine.
Oh no wait, hold on a sec. Nicole Richie is a celebrity, therefore according to my parents, is on her way to hell too. Might as well cover all our bases.
Sincerely Yours,
Sana RJ
Thursday, June 01, 2006
I'm ANGRY.
There are very few things in life that make me angry, I will tell you right now.
One thing, however, sets me off really badly and fills me with white-hot rage, the kind that makes you dig your nails into your palms with such force that they start to bleed.
On my bus home, there's this kid called Mitch. He's what the politically correct would call mentally deficient, what the politically incorrect would call a retard.
He seems like a darling, harmless kid. He's maintained such sheer innocence and has the habit of walking up to people and with a huge, sloppy smile, going "HIIIIIIIII, I'M MITCH", or something such. Sadly, such innocence is usually only found in those who don't have the capacity to understand it.
17 year old boys can be such A$$%^&*S!
These kind, caring members of society were the ones making fun of him today. It's SICK. As in seriously, it is SICK. What makes it even sadder is that this poor kid thinks they're being nice to him.
I HATE my classmates sometimes. The only reason they CAN make fun of him is because THEY were born normal. THEIR parents didn't receive the heartbreaking news that their child would never fit in. THEY'VE probably never been beaten up, or verbally abused, or put down, or laughed at for something they couldn't help.
Hey, O! WHAT IF THAT WAS YOUR LITTLE SISTER?
Hey, T! YOU'RE NOT DOING MUCH BETTER, AND YOU DON'T HAVE AN EXCUSE.
Hey, D! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE PERFORMING IN SCHOOL, THAT ROCK-BOTTOM EMOTIONAL IQ OF YOURS HAS NO EXCUSE.
Hey, M! HOW ABOUT I CALL YOU A RETARD, JACKASS, AND LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT.
One of these guys, somewhere, somehow, will encounter a situation where they're the underdog. Where its laughter at their expense, and they'll not have their genes to blame for it, like Mitch has.
They'll have only themselves and the sad, sick psyche that makes them feel they're better than people who really didn't ask to be that way, to blame.
How do I know?
I'LL BE PRAYING FOR IT.
One thing, however, sets me off really badly and fills me with white-hot rage, the kind that makes you dig your nails into your palms with such force that they start to bleed.
On my bus home, there's this kid called Mitch. He's what the politically correct would call mentally deficient, what the politically incorrect would call a retard.
He seems like a darling, harmless kid. He's maintained such sheer innocence and has the habit of walking up to people and with a huge, sloppy smile, going "HIIIIIIIII, I'M MITCH", or something such. Sadly, such innocence is usually only found in those who don't have the capacity to understand it.
17 year old boys can be such A$$%^&*S!
These kind, caring members of society were the ones making fun of him today. It's SICK. As in seriously, it is SICK. What makes it even sadder is that this poor kid thinks they're being nice to him.
I HATE my classmates sometimes. The only reason they CAN make fun of him is because THEY were born normal. THEIR parents didn't receive the heartbreaking news that their child would never fit in. THEY'VE probably never been beaten up, or verbally abused, or put down, or laughed at for something they couldn't help.
Hey, O! WHAT IF THAT WAS YOUR LITTLE SISTER?
Hey, T! YOU'RE NOT DOING MUCH BETTER, AND YOU DON'T HAVE AN EXCUSE.
Hey, D! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE PERFORMING IN SCHOOL, THAT ROCK-BOTTOM EMOTIONAL IQ OF YOURS HAS NO EXCUSE.
Hey, M! HOW ABOUT I CALL YOU A RETARD, JACKASS, AND LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT.
One of these guys, somewhere, somehow, will encounter a situation where they're the underdog. Where its laughter at their expense, and they'll not have their genes to blame for it, like Mitch has.
They'll have only themselves and the sad, sick psyche that makes them feel they're better than people who really didn't ask to be that way, to blame.
How do I know?
I'LL BE PRAYING FOR IT.