Are You There, God? It's Me, Matmat.

And Again, She Writes

2008-11-05T22:02:00.003+11:00

IT DOESN'T MATTER....

- If I look at the oesophagus and think it's the aorta.

- If my second year had to rewrite half of my first group project.

- If I look at the ovary and think it's the uterus (A MICROSCOPIC VIEW, OKAY, SHUT UP.)

- If I use the word "jiggers" in presentations to my smart, 2nd year classmates.

- If I use the word "jiggers" in clinical sessions WHILE ACTUALLY TALKING TO PATIENTS.

- If I think endometriosis ONLY happens in the endometrium (it doesn't.)

- If I make up heart physiology for an assignment.

- If I ask patients questions like, "So...it just...just happened in the middle of the night and...wow."

- If I confuse the left and right sides of the heart.

- If I randomly yell out the word "Eggplant" to answer any and all medical questions......

AS LONG AS.....

Hearing about the little old lady....

Who waited by her little old husband....

After he'd had a stroke....

Effectively watching him die....

Just in case he'd wake up....

NO MATTER HOW MELODRAMATICALLY THE STORY WAS WORDED,

...............................................................

Still makes my heart bleed, I think I'll make it as a doctor.

It's good to be back, kids, my heart and mind are full of stories to share.

The Crazy Bird Lady

2008-06-01T10:48:00.004+10:00

Oh, crap.

I KNEW I should've just taken the 395, it would've taken 15 minutes to get back to college through uni, and now I've wasted the bloody 15 minutes waiting for the 372.

Stupid public transport.

While I spent time at the bus stop whining about how it'd take me twice the time to get home (I didn't actually mind: I love buses and this city so much), I happened to chance upon The Crazy Bird Lady.

She had short, bobbed black hair and I was first alerted to her presence by a giant mob of pigeons. Throwing grain from a huge bag (one of those 20 kg bags of bird seed), CBL walked back and forth, followed by her faithful, grateful flock.

After she'd disposed of the bag, she proceeded to reach into her blue eco bags (4 of them) and started throwing cheese and bacon rolls at her avian audience.

Cheese and bacon rolls?!

Srsly, lady?!

People started taking photos at this point in time, of a small Asian woman with slightly crazy hair and a tortured expression throwing mounds of human food at a bird flock.

While I'd like to think she was simply being a lovely person, or an animal lover, or a bird enthusiast, part of me thinks it goes deeper than that.

See, I used to feed birds too.

Oh, I know, I know, we've heard LOTS about Sana's miserable early school years as the fat lonely kid, WAAH. Whatever, it's all relevant.

Remember? I'd go to the canteen every day at lunch, get myself "auntie, satu french fry dan cili" and spend an extra buck (EXORBITANT, THERE WERE ONLY THREE) on a packet of chicken nuggets.

I did this every day for over three months, 90 bucks just to feed a crappy flock of crappy pigeons. I did it because I was tired of people but couldn't stand being alone anyway.

The fact that this lady ran off, blue eco bags in hand, after her job was done? Vanished without looking, smiling or talking to anyone?

She's tired of people, too. Sick of humanity and sick of interacting with it and sick of being forced to deal with it and its problems.

Because it's humanity, it's society, it's people around her that will call her the crazy bird lady. It's people like us with our screwed up ideas of what constitutes normal that alienate people who want something deeper, something more meaningful.

Once upon a time, a lonely kid fed birds. One day, I'll be brave enough to feed them again. Brave enough to ignore what my moulded brain tells me is socially appropriate. Brave enough to do something JUST because I want to do it.

Brave enough, and please forgive me this, to flip society the bird.

And Who'd Have Thunk That....

2008-05-25T23:15:00.003+10:00

Beneath this ridiculously chipper, charismatic girl,

lies a fat, unpopular outcast?

Beneath this wise young woman in a stable relationship,

lies a silently sobbing child watching her parents fight?

Beneath this successful boy in Australia's most prestigious university,

lies a desperately unhappy and mistreated son?

Beneath this popular and talented young man,

lies a hyperactive and implosive child?

Beneath this secure and confident young lady,

lies a dorky kid whose parents won't let their 15 year old cross the road alone?

Beneath this hilarious, brilliant 4th year,

lies an overtalkative and unpopular brat?

Beneath this engineering, technological and mathematical prodigy,

lies a nerdy, skinny social reject?

Beneath this cocky, attractive success story,

lies a bullied and rejected schoolboy?

In short, who knew that beneath all these beautiful, brilliant adults lay the ugly, awkward children they once were?

Mai God So Klevvver Wan!

2008-05-07T21:05:00.002+10:00

You know what I despised as a child?

In Sunday school for kids, you'd always have some very well meaning but slightly condescending adult telling you, "WAAAH, YOU SEE THE STARS IN THE SKY OR NOT? GOD IS SO KLEVERRRRR!"

Clever is the kid who can make carpets with his hands.

Clever is the boy who's memorized all the world capitals.

Clever is Sana when she keeps herself out of trouble.

Clever is Daz when he can multiply 5 digit numbers.

God's not clever.

I'm doing Medicine, and have been for the last 2 months.

I see the way the tibia and fibula are held together with a cross-stitch like syndesmoses that gives it the perfect level of mobility.

I see, under the microscope, millions of erythrocytes suspended in a single drop of blood.

I see leukocytes in phagocytic action, engulfing antigens.

I see how colonies of bacteria, millions of bacteria, can generate from a single swab.

I see how the menstrual cycle is perfectly regulated to allow the follicles to develop, via a complex system of hormone release.

I see how nerves traverse the entire body and how, without looking at the keyboard or thinking about what to type, I can write this blog based on their action.

I see how the heart beats, pumping blood into the aorta and down and up through the vena cavae and into the lungs for oxygenation.

I see how, after 2 years of not playing the piano, my fingers can still play thanks to muscle memory.

I guess what I'm trying to say is......

I think after 7 years of not buying into the childish "my god u noe arh, so klever wan" nonsense (and it WAS), I'm finding God again in a place I can appreciate just how brilliant, how awesome, how unbelievable He really is.

It May Break My Heart, But I'm Going To Be Me.

2008-04-30T23:04:00.002+10:00

And this, love, for your benefit, is who I am.

- I think about my future a lot. I know I'm going to be married before I'm 26 and that I want four kids.

- I don't wear dresses and t-shirts because I've never felt confident enough about my figure to do so, not because I'm that moralistic.

- I make up acronyms on the spot to make people feel foolish WTDU them. (Ummm when they like don't understand, stupid.)

- I love talking to people more than anything in the world, and if it comes off as needy, well then I guess I AM needy.

- I'm actually not, not at all. I can survive on my own for enormously long periods of time, just retreating into myself and contemplating.

- I'm terrified of the following things, in order of potency: 1) Getting fat. 2) Ending up alone. 3) People not liking me. 4) Not being good enough.

- I am extremely attached to both old people and children, and seeing either of them in hardship can bother me for days.

- I love to dance, and I am a passionate dirty dancer. I think it's my inner skank trying to break free of the kurtas.

- I'm still too innocent to mean anything slutty or suggestive by it though.

- I have extremely high standards but I don't feel confident enough for them.

- It doesn't take me long to fall totally in like because I'm ALWAYS on the lookout for The One.

- Paradoxically, I don't BELIEVE in The One: I believe in The One you eventually feel OK settling for.

- I will quite happily eat things off the floor, if there's no obvious dirt on them. If there is, I will just as happily brush it off and maybe rinse it, and I'm good to go.

- My arms are my weakest area, so if you see me in a t-shirt or even more daringly, a sleeveless top, please come up to me and give me a hug: odds are, I need it.

- I come off as desperately try hard and unfunny for the first couple of months, because I'm trying very hard to not hurt you: the brand of humour I reserve for my friends is quick, sharp, cutting and always hilarious. People who never get to know me will ALWAYS know me as unfunny and try hard.

- I once loved my religion. I started disliking it because of its practitioners.

- I was once convinced I'd love said religion again. I'm now not so sure.

- If you tell me your name, I will remember it.

- I think the letters J, A, X and Z are unbelievably sexy.

- I think you'd look stupid bald, but I'm TERRIFIED of saying it because it's for a good cause. But I am a selfish ho.

- I am extremely passive aggressive: if I don't like you, you WON'T KNOW: I'll be subtly mean but then openly nice, and you won't know what to believe.

- I have much more pride than I know what to do with.

- My childlike wonder is beginning to expire and it makes me so very unhappy.

- And here's the weirdest thing: even though I am THE vaguest and THE least "sure" and the most suspicious and the least heart-trusting person in the world....................

.........................I'm somehow certain I'll end up with you in some capacity. Heads up, dumbass! :)

- (I'm abrasive and aggressive when I'm smitten: it's me trying to maintain my acerbic hilarity in the face of infatuation, she that makes a babbling idiot out of the best of us).

Why Confuse A Matmat?!

2008-04-23T12:52:00.006+10:00

Subtle hints do not work.

Strong hints do not work.

Ya know what, just hints in general, do not work.

Flirting does not work.

Cat and mouse games do not work.

Body language does not work.

Eye contact does not work.

Playing the game does not work.

"The Chase" does not work.

Mixed signals do not work.

You know what DOES work?

JUST SAYING IT.

.....................

GOD, MEN ARE STUPID.

So In The Last Month, I've Realized That

2008-04-18T09:21:00.003+10:00

- The world's biggest prude will look hot in something short and fitting, and sometimes you NEED to try on something skanky just to prove you can.

- Pride is far tougher, braver and more intelligent than the foolish heart...BUT, like every fat kid needs a chance to play the fairy princess, give the moron a chance; she may prove herself yet.

- Genuine bitchiness is so much more refreshing than false sweetness.

- You can't protect yourself all the time.

- You can't force people to do things they don't want to do without losing them as friends.

- Some friends aren't MEANT to stay in your life forever.

- My self esteem is DISGUSTINGLY low. It's not even funny. I hadn't realized how bad I'd let it become...but I'm working on it.

- I'll keep adding to this as I go along.....

But The View Was So Pretty.

2008-04-12T00:03:00.003+10:00

So yesterday, I went on a cruise along Sydney harbour.

I know how naive and stupid I'm going to come off sounding, but I don't think I will ever get used to or feel totally comfortable in large groups of drunk people.

You know what, guys?

One thing that thrills me beyond all reasonable measure is when someone from my past tells me I haven't changed at all.

I may look a little different, now that I've lost weight and know how to use a straightener and have started *groans* wearing sneakers (they are disgustingly comfy)...but I'd like to think I'm still fundamentally the same person.

Yeah, I wonder about that now.

Is it really such a good thing that my morals, values, ideals and principles have barely changed since I was 14?

Is it really so admirable that my views of sex, drugs, alcohol and promiscuity are based on a child's point of reference?

Is it really so damn great that I can't actually EXPLAIN any more why I find such things abhorrent?

Sigh.

I don't know if I'm crazy or if everyone else is....because when I look at gatherings like this, being a PART of them but apart from them, I feel so freaking awkward. You ask me why I'm not drinking?! Look around you!

It is now a month and a week until I turn 18.

The age where I can no longer hide from my own childishness: the age where I'll finally be allowed to drink as much as I want and not have the law to protect me from my own fear of the world around me. I'll only have myself and my own ideals, and they need to be stronger than a weak, "But but but I just don't want to."

All I've got now, though, is a mixture of pity and revulsion and distrust when I look at people who are drunk and making idiots of themselves, and a strong conviction to not do that to myself.

I will tell you this, though...Sydney Harbour by night?

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

And I'll bet you whatever you want, my friends, that it's only that beautiful in focus.

Author's Note: No, I don't think drinking in itself is wrong. I think being drunk and disorderly is. I see no problem in drinking around a bunch of your friends, who already know you well enough to not judge you, and who know your and their own limits. I think there's a smart way to do it.

Drinking excessively around a huge group of potentially opportunistic strangers? Yeaah, not so much.

You.

2008-03-10T11:56:00.003+11:00

Note to people: Narcissistic post, people, but I badly need it.

Note to self: I will look back on this in a couple of months, both my projects would've been submitted and Boy will think I'm cooler because I'll relax around him.

But for now, I know you need this. So here:

- You are SMART. Don't kid yourself. You know just as well as anyone that memorizing large numbers of facts is a BIG skill, and it takes a reasonably full brain to be able to do it. You can also assimilate and understand this stuff, which gives you a leg up on the memorizers.

- You are CLASSY. Look in the mirror, you moron. I know that right now, you have trouble accepting that wholly. But until then, you've got your beautiful unique clothes and perfect matching jewellery, and if you need those to feel good, then go right ahead.

- You are DETERMINED. Do NOT ever again say that you don't belong here. You've proven that you can work really hard, and you've seen what happens when you do. So shut the hell up, get over this fabulously limiting title of "LOW SELF ESTEEM" and move on. You know what to do and how to do it, so quit whining.

- You are FUNNY. Oh, it's true. You're a bit of a moron and not classically hilarious. But the amount of fun your friends have around you is a group effort and you contribute. You contribute a lot. So what if you don't come up with things as quickly as some people can? You can keep your own group in stitches with your stupidity, and as soon as people understand that about you, the better.

- You are VALUABLE. You know how good it makes you feel when people rely on you. And it works. And you're good at it. So understand what an awesome friend you are and realize that at the end of the day, your failings and stupidities and annoyances do SO LITTLE to detract from your overall worth as a friend: someone dependable, intelligent, honest and opinionated. Freakin, I'D like a friend like you.

- You are WORTH IT. As aforementioned, you can be a total ditz. But if that's all people are going to see, screw them. People closer to you know there's no one better to talk to, to have fun with, to lean on.

I love you more than anyone, and I know you know it.

So go out there and shine, you ho: Look up, you've got NO excuse not to.

Defence Mech

2008-03-01T22:14:00.002+11:00

So here's the reason I don't write poetry anymore.

It's the same reason Sarah and Nazmi aren't so quiet, Jas isn't so flirtatious, Divs isn't so harsh, Kavs isn't so standoffish and in all, the reason we aren't as (insert negative quality here) that we once were.

We've rubbed off on each other, and those defence mechanisms have fallen away. I used to write poetry because I wanted people to think I was smart.

These people let me know that I actually was.

Sakrfishal Klam

2008-02-21T14:47:00.003+11:00

Why in GOD'S NAME would anyone want to be a doctor?!

You spend the last two years of school working your ass off so you can compete with the top 5% of the nerdlosers in the state to get into Med school.

Once there, your days become a monochrome, monotonous lump of memorization and regurgitation.

You go to clinicals so people can tell you how to do things you'll be doing for the next 30 years.

You'll have exams that ALL seem to matter, because if not, you'll get kicked out of aforementioned nerdloser programme.

You've got this for 6 years. 6 long years of memorizing fact after fact after fact about symptoms and diagnoses.

All the while knowing that some poor sucker could live or die based on what you learn TODAY. The stakes are already so damn high, and what happens when you finish med school?

They get even higher. You actually start dealing with patients as an intern, and as a resident, you don't even have a doctor looking after you all the time making SURE you don't kill someone.

All this so that you can get good specialist training and enter into a job that, romantically, is super satisfying and pays for itself.

Right?

No. Doctors start off poor. For the first at least 7 years out of med school, you don't make much. Satisfaction? How many bad, rude, obnoxious, lying, ungrateful patients do you have to go through til that wears off? How many long hours? How many sacrificed relationships? How much lost time with your children? How many deaths that you were somehow connected to? How much mind-numbing guilt?

I think it all boils down to the fact that people who do medicine are very, very sacrificial. Either that or they have no clue what they're getting themselves into. You have your share of memorable patients, of people that you helped, of people you may even have saved....but is it really worth it?

I'm terrified. I don't know which category I fit into: the category of people who, for some reason, think doctors are all the Big Cheese because when she was little, someone put into her head the unshakeable notion that doctors were these wonderful, wonderful, awesome people, saviours of mankind, just below angels.

Or one of those kids who has to keep telling herself that she's a fantastic little sacrificial clam and that what she does matters.

Or just one of those kids who has no bloody idea.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Running In, Snatching The Spotlight, And Running Back Out.

2008-02-08T12:57:00.000+11:00

Grace and I were talking the other day about what it's like, being a third culture kid.

We're an unusually adaptable breed, most of us having had the experience of being wrenched from a place we felt most at home and complacent and secure, and being deftly positioned in a totally new world. A world in which you might not speak the language, or looked different from everyone else, or in some cases (and sometimes even more horrifyingly) looked just like everyone else.

So that's how we've learned to adapt to things: we run in, snatch the spotlight somehow (it's why many of us are likeable and fun and personable: we're not sure if we'll HAVE time to make deep, lasting friendships), and run back out. We make friends quickly and get to know them by spilling our life stories or colourful histories, but then we get really close by revealing that we have the same problems as they do.

I did that in Canada, though I probably wasn't even aware of it: we were in. Made an impression as "the smart Indian girl". Left and was perfectly OK with it.

Brunei was harder....Brunei was a long pitstop: 8 years. 8 long years, and I'd become complacent: this WAS definitely home!!! I'd have to leave sometime, but no time soon! I'd broken the TCK Time-Reverse Rule, which stipulates that the longer you stay in a place, the LESS attached you're supposed to grow in anticipation that you'll have to up and run.

But moving along, I DID get over Brunei eventually, and made really awesome friends here.

So why's it proving so difficult NOW of all times? I made great friends, and had wonderful experiences that shaped and changed me, just like Brunei....but unlike there, I'm not even really LEAVING, nor is anyone else! I'll be in Sydney, most of my friends in Newcastle, which is just a couple of hours away.

So why?

Run in, snatch spotlight, run back out. I can't seem to let go and just run back out. And I'm really, really going to miss them all, and miss school, and miss my teachers and everyone.

Sigh. I think I'll go watch Scrubs, where all the world makes sense.

Chandelier Earrings and Pretty Curls

2008-02-06T18:04:00.001+11:00

I've got both.

Three boxes containing the world's most comprehensively awesome jewellery collection. Enough hideous hairstyles in the past to allow for karmic retribution to throw me naturally loose, feminine curls.

You know what's awesome, though?

Today, I didn't need them.

I've been losing weight (again, what a surprise, Sana's on a diet) for the last two months, but the surprising thing is, when I break the stupid thing and eat roasted cashews, I don't feel like throwing up or self flagellating or like my guilt will drown me anymore.

Today, I walked out with no earrings and my hair in a rather unflattering (but super comfortable) granny bun....and felt fantastic.

It's been a really long time since I didn't have to hide some part of my body or shape behind my HotFro or jewellery or strategically positioned bright kurtas.

I stepped out in Rachel's ugly yellow (YELLOW!) t-shirt and GYM PANTS and non-matching sneakers today.

Everyone who's ever known me knows I've had...how to put this politically correctly....body image issues. For a very, very long time.

And today, I looked in the mirror in all my post-gym frizzy-fro'd sweaty glory...and said, dayme...that's a beautiful girl, right there.

Yeah. I'm OK with that. That's a beautiful girl, right there.

People Like You.....

2008-01-24T20:10:00.000+11:00

Are the reason I no longer believe.

Read this, my Christian friends, and join me in a nice, collective VOMIT.

I HATE FUNDAMENTALIST MORONS WHO ABUSE THE NAME OF MY CHRIST LIKE THIS.

Bloody IDIOTS, do you think Jesus would approve of such BLATANT stupidity!??!?!

YES, I AM ANGRY.

Heath Ledger was probably not a perfect person. But to RAISE A RUCKUS at the man's MEMORIAL services because he portrayed a gay character?!

HOW NARROWMINDED AND F-ING STUPID DO YOU HAVE TO BE!?

No WONDER the world makes fun of Christians. They're scared of Muslims, wary of Jews and confused by Buddhists and Hindus. But they MOCK us because we claim to be so VERY holy and righteous, and AFTER PULLING SUCH MORALLY UNSOUND STUNTS, we try to tell the rest of the world how to live their lives.

I don't CARE if every religion has it's hypocrisies!!! As Christians, there's only ONE person we're meant to be following, and that's CHRIST.

I'm so tired of people who claim Christlikeness and then pull shit like this.

I'm obviously not Christlike yet. But I DON'T CLAIM TO BE, and Lord knows, I'm TRYING.

I just get so angry sometimes. People like this make me angry first, and then hopelessly sad later. Hopelessly, bitterly sad for the once proud Christian I used to be.

Christ, please, heal your church. Hopefully before someone else's heart gets broken by the pointless, petty spitefulness of some of its actions.

EDIT: While I was time-wasting browsing on Wiki, I discovered this (read the Public Reaction and the Aftermath section).....and I wept.

That is all.

Poet

2008-01-22T21:59:00.001+11:00

I wonder why I don't write anymore.

I remember that my writing used to be such a big part of me. I used to walk around school composing poems in my head...voicing them out loud so I knew what the words sounded like in rhythmic combination and metre, basically looking like I was talking to myself.

I'd spend every free period that Cikgu Masni gave us (Sivik), just writing poetry. In this old notebook I had, I used to just jot down an idea and then start writing.

I wrote at the gym, on the treadmill (She Means Nothing To You), at church camp (The Pink Angel), conceived ideas in church and RAN home to write them (The Greatest Treasure), woke up at 12 am because I'd had an idea (tons of them, actually)...

And remember that one time in F1, when I wrote a poem during an exam and was stupid enough to PASS IT AROUND....and Mr. Sim caught me, read it, smiled a little then tried to put on his Stern voice? Hahaha, everyone loves a tiny 10 year old writing about racism and child abuse, eh?

I think that's how my poetry developed.

People who wrote poems were smart and deep and what not....and it wasn't too difficult to make things rhyme, so why not? Why not grab some attention for my seeking heart and show everyone how cleverly I was?

I wonder when that started to fall away.

My last poem was about Sarah, this girl I knew who stripped at a party with no shame whatsoever. That was two months ago. Apparently, I can still make things rhyme.

Why don't I want to anymore?

I still get inspired, I suppose....but I blog about those things now, and even that is slowly tapering off.

I'm a lot more popular and social and happy and accepted now, and I'm going places in life with my newly discovered potential.

But part of me wishes I was still the fat lonely kid with the beautiful words running through her soul.

I just don't hear the music anymore...and I wish I could reconnect with that kid somehow and ask her why she's being so quiet.

It's Not That I've Got Nothing To Say..........

2008-01-15T10:17:00.001+11:00

It's just that I'm having a lot of trouble putting all the stuff going on in my life into words.

So instead, I'll steal an idea from Lu Wee and try bulleting my awesome list of:

Fings Going On In The Life Of The Matmat

- I have recently started converting my Ths into Fs or Vs, don't ask why.

- Things've been getting worse with my dad and see no way of working out...unless of course he comes to me crying and apologizes. Which is never going to happen given that he can never understand why he's wrong in the first place. Not that he tries to anyway.

- I'm having SERIOUS worries about accomodation at Uni! UNFORCH, being a dumbass, I applied late...so I'm basically gonna have to cross my fingers and hope that tons of people get rejected. I mean, whaat?

- Some lucky moron must be feeling the same way about Melbourne University....I applied there for their (number 1 in Au) Med Course and didn't make it. Kiss my 98.55 scoring ass, Melbourne.

- Vulnerability is, from what I've deduced, ridiculously attractive to members of the Male species. I'd rather be me: intimidating, opinionated and strong willed, as opposed to some sweet and non-threatening "lady". I'm no "lady" and I'm proud.

- I have a lot of pride. I'm not sure if it's a good thing. But I'm keeping it.

- University scares me...really badly, too. All this stuff, I'm not used to making decisions that could potentially affect the rest of my life, and it's really frightening.

- God is unfortunately silent. I've decided to continue waiting it out.

Antithesis

2008-01-10T09:15:00.000+11:00

Why antithesis? I just read Steph's latest post is all.

This one's dedicated to MY dad.

So mom told me today that there was an actual REASON for the stupid, callous and hurtful comment you made the other day. My question is, could you not have told ME that?!

Is it because you think I'm stupid? Or do you THINK about what you want to say and then decide to hurt me?

I am not, at the moment, conversing with my father.

It hurts a bit to know that while mom and I are repairing our relationship, and I'll miss her.....

I won't miss you.

I won't. And I refuse to.

So go ahead, lah. Go ahead. Keep on doing exactly what you're doing.

All Is Right With The World, Tonight.

2007-12-30T21:42:00.000+11:00

Dear Celestial Entity,

I say Celestial Entity because given my extreme state of confusion and spiritual dryness at this point in time (despite everything...probably my biggest indicator I was in trouble) I am unable to say, "Lord" or "God".

Anyway, the PURPOSE of this entry is to hand out some much needed holy props for all that you've taught me this year. I'd like to say thanks a lot, and also kindly request that if I forget any of these vital lessons, that you send me a much needed kick in the proverbial rear.

So over the past year, I've learned that:

- Working hard doesn't always equal success, but success is NOT the only positive outcome. How much effort you put into something and all the challenges and problems you face along the way can't be quantified by a number, a ranking or a mark.

- It's the smallest things that forcefully attract you to someone and keep you hooked for so long: the way he smiles, the way he says, "yeah thanks" without pausing in between, the fact that he's just a bit too cocky and sure of himself...and losing sight of those little things, actual physical sight of them, is what'll get you over it.

- It's OK for chubby people to wear dresses, so long as they're mirackulous and fantasstic enough to pull it off.

- There is no excuse for crude and blatant promotion of one's own feminine assets, except when one is composing a superbly awesome list.

- Spiritual progress cannot be quanitifed by how high up a person is on the church's hierarchy.

- Judging people by your own standards will only result in you being disappointed. Not because they're not good enough, but because the only person that fits your standards exactly is you.

- The best "I Told You So" moments come, not from the downfall of an enemy, but the success of a friend.

- Taking the high road always pays off: that way, when the mean spirited jerk who's been badmouthing you ALL YEAR admits that he actually respects you, it's all the more satisfying knowing how angelic and tolerant and awesome you look in comparison.

- The length of time someone is in your life has no connection to the richness they give it.

- Thin girls can pull off absolutely anything, and fat girls are only super confident because they have to be. At the end of the day, being thin and wanting to gain weight and vice versa are two sides of the same body dysmorphic coin.

- Friendships that survive distance can survive absolutely any and everything. The ones that don't were there to sprinkle fairy dust on your life and then leave you, with only the fairy dust left to remind you of how blessed you were by it.

- It's OKAY to cheat on your crappy diet once in awhile, especially if it's just with juice and some cashews. You're not going to lose 2 kilos LESS because you cheat once. This especially applies when your brownie-and-chocolate-worshiping sibling comes into town and you ignore the delicious home cooked food in favour of your cardboardy diet shake.

- Change is relative...it doesn't need to be big to be different.

- We somehow expect our parents to relinquish their human traits when they have us. It's therefore just not RIGHT for them to be petty or childish or self-preservatory or moody or pissy. For God's sake, they're just US, but a bit older.

- Online lists tend to grow and grow and grow...especially when you're a mildly self centered narcissist who talks way too much.

Love all of you and hope you have an awesome '08.

I know I will.

So, Would I Be Out Of Line.....If I Said I Miss You?

2007-12-21T23:11:00.000+11:00

I know that it was a fantabulous opportunity for you.

And I'm so happy you took it....what are best friends for, right?

I don't know why it was at that moment that I gave up.

After everything we went through together, being so very close....literally being able to cry on each other's shoulders when bad things happened. Oh, I remember....me with the fight with Jas, me with my problems with my mom and my weight....and you with your guy problems, the debate that I was at, watching you do so well then have it bite you, and the jackass that kept following you.

After shedding NO tears at the prospect of me leaving...and then both of us parting, you sobbing in the car (your mom told me) and me sitting in the bathroom for half an hour doing the same thing. After the beautiful jewellery and the handbag and the photos. After being there on the day Thatha died and after having a tearful photo taken with my grandma, who loved you so much. After you couldn't even come to the airport to see me off because you thought it'd hurt too much.

How did we manage to lose each other, my dearest friend?

How did we manage to not stay in touch?

I tried....I honestly did....but much as I love you, you were always lousy at keeping in touch. In person, when I could always see you, you were always there for me and I was always there for you. I guess it helped, living so close and going to the same tuitions and the same school and having our own little dumb rituals (popiah, Milo, walking home) that kept us together through the two years we weren't in the same class and later, not even the same school.

I guess it just hit me now that.....while it would have been brilliant to keep in touch, we're just not the sort of friends that can survive distance like that. I think we NEEDED those dumb little rituals and those shared problems to remind us of why we loved each other so much.

And without them.....emails and messages and facebook wall posts just lost their meaning, somehow. I think you needed to see my face when I said them, and actually read INTO it in order to really understand....as did I.

And I have to say I miss you.....so very much, and I'm so proud of the way things have worked out for you. And I know that had you been physically close to me during these hellish exams, you would have been EVERY ASPECT of the support system that I needed: the affirmer, the straight talker, the food provider, the encourager, the brutally honest advisor, the sugar coater, the spirit builder, the faith booster, the everything.

Anyway.

I guess that's a chapter, a beautiful chapter, in both our lives. I am so thankful to have had you in my life....past tense because let's face it, neither of us holds quite the place in each others' lives as we used to.

I guess all I really want to say is, Happy Birthday....

Dry Spell!

2007-12-17T18:01:00.000+11:00

I don't have much to say.

My results come out in two days and then, I promise, I'll have plenty to talk about.

For better or for worse....

Delta

2007-12-10T21:24:00.000+11:00

I wonder what it is that makes people change, and I take great offense when people say things like, "Oh em, like, GEE! I totalllly hate like.....fake people."

Excuse me?

I honestly believe that there's a fake part of all of us. I sat down recently and had the ritual Serious Self Talk where I sit in front of the mirror and actually address myself.

Shut up, I'm lonely.

But anyway.....I love being the person I am, this person's kept me happy for the last 17 years.

But it's not really 17 years, is it?

It's little blocks of years, and then we change. It's like we're tired of what we've become and then swap selves. Like phone covers.

While no one has yet dared to call me fake, I can understand why you'd think so.....I mean, look at yourself, why don't you. You've probably undergone lots of changes as well. Meek people that swear more, wallflowers that burst into confidence, scholars turned druggies, class clowns turned serious students....it happens.

All the time, and when you think about it, NO ONE is living his original life. We've all undergone so many changes involving so many different stimuli that NO ONE can really claim to be the same person they started out.

I don't like change very much. And I say this on the cusp of a life-altering period for me: another 2 months and I'll officially be a university student.

WTF BIATCHEZ!!!

It scares me that I'll start to change and become someone unrecognizable.....someone who could be judged as fake.

One of the biggest compliments people from back home have paid me is that I haven't changed at all. I'm holding on to that as tightly as I can, because the prospect of becoming a different person really freaks me out.

I realize this is INCOHERENT, but I'll leave you with this thought:

Inside every fake person is a real person who was told that they weren't good enough.

Insectae: It Does Be A Bug's Life

2007-12-04T17:05:00.000+11:00

I am a FLY: you'd be willing to tolerate me near you if I didn't buzz in your ear constantly.

I am a SPIDER: I can spin a web of deceit that looks so pretty and delicate until you fly into it and realize you're done for.

I am a LADYBUG: the only indications that I'm ACTUALLY female are the prettyful colours I sport.

I am a COCKROACH: I WILL squeeze into the tiniest corner, leaving you to choke on the clouds of poison you spray at me.

I am a CRICKET: I can't shut the hell up and I always seem to be in the kitchen.

I am an ANT: I am tiny, but NEVER underestimate my ability to decimate your fruitcake.

I am a BEE: I may LOOK fluffy and soft, but I'd rather die than have you hurt me first.

Dere Godsa Everfing,

2007-11-28T21:29:00.000+11:00

Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, PLEASE........

Let me get over this?! It's starting to IRRITATE me because it is IRRATIONAL. If you could KINDLY bring a skank-ho girlfriend into the picture (or boyfriend, I don't mind), or some horrid rumour or even a return to COMMON SENSE....

I'd rhilly 'preciate it.

Fanks,

Matmat.

PS: It's TOTALLY normal to say someone's name, sigh and then self consciously touch your face, right?

Right?!

RIGHT!!!

Sigh. I don't like being infatuated. It's not FUN and it's not PRACTICAL!!

This Is Me, Silently Hating.

2007-11-27T19:11:00.000+11:00

Instead of respond directly to you, I will do so here as a series of dot points.

- Don't flatter yourself: my poetry has never been inspired by you. The fact that my BLOG is on occasion means, of course, a great deal. The guys I like have been in my blogs. Random strangers that inspire me have been in my blogs. My friends, my exams, my activities, my booklists, my pet peeves......

Did I say a great deal? I mean very, very, very, very little.

Also, I don't appreciate the mocking tone you said it in. Every single feeling I detailed I stand by. The fact that I have a great self esteem in every aspect of my life except my body image is very telling of you as parents. I can recall specific events, can you?

- Rather than do what I've done every other time (and they have been numerous), I'd like to try something different. Jumping into big weight loss strategies, going exercise freak etc. have not worked for me before, hence the reason I'm starting with lifestyle changes and eating habits.

Again, something I won't tell you because you won't listen.

- Male parent, the fact that I'm not arguing with you appears to have gotten to you. This gives me ENDLESS enjoyment, because it allows me to witness just how far you will go to make me see your oft-repeated point.

I am not a retard. I am ACTUALLY quite intelligent. Please do not treat me like one. I am, in fact, not 12 anymore. I am 17, and you simply can NOT tell a 17 year old how to do her HAIR. It is irritating that you find the need to keep condescendingly bringing it up. I do not appreciate it.

- No, I'm not going to tie my hair up, AGAIN for reasons that I will not explain to YOU because you appear slightly dense.....it is because during my exams, I got so nervous and panicky that I single-handedly receded my own hairline (trichotylomania, read up on it) by plucking it out constantly. When I tie it up, it looks ridiculous because it is SO very noticeable.

Oh, and the fact that I know how much it annoys you. I wish it didn't, it really does look rather nice. You appear to take offense at rather dumb things....that is your problem, however, not mine.

- Mom, you're not a nice person. That's all I'm going to say for this point, but it is potent. I'm rather disappointed that you feel the need to resort, yet again, to scare slash shock tactics when again, as I've said, I AM AN INTELLIGENT CHILD! YOU CAN DISCUSS THINGS WITH ME! AS LONG AS THEY ARE REASONABLE, I WILL LISTEN!

Oh dear, that's ME treating YOU like the moron now....sorry, learned habit perhaps?

- May I also say, for the record, that I don't appreciate being made to feel like an awful child. As my wardrobe consists of kurtas with pretty patterns and nothing lownecked, my bookshelf is full of literary classics, my study table is covered in certificates and awards that I have to sort out chronologically, my habits are healthy, I don't overspend on anything and I am quite well adjusted, I'd like to request that you leave me alone.

I write in clinical, detached and cynical tone when I'm trying to cover up an urge to cry. I'm not going to cry, though, because of this final point:

- I'm leaving you in less than three months....off to university. Oh, that merciful place. I hope I miss you, I really do. And I'm certain I will, ya know....maybe I just AM a horrible child who takes you for granted at every opportunity. No, no matter how jokingly you say it, I don't want to see you every week. I really don't.

I think that in order for BOTH of us to appreciate how awesome the other is, we just need time far, far, far away from each other. However, I have no doubt that the very second I get back, you'll find some other way to make me feel like an awful person.

What a truly wonderful claim to fame, and bravo on that.

What Would You Think Of Me Now?

2007-11-23T17:12:00.000+11:00

It's not that I can't let things go, I'm not that pathetic. But there IS one slight I received a very long time ago that I puzzled over for a long, long time. Just thought of that recently.....today, in fact. And it hit me why it upset me. So, I'm going to address this letter today to St. George's School.

Dear Alma Mater,

I hate to admit this....but to an extent, you were right.

Not really though.

But BEFORE I do that, I'd like to dispense some requisite pleasantries. Thank you for some kickass education. Thank you for the Chemistry which may have SAVED my HSC. Thank you for teaching me how to deal with racists, assholes, dumbasses and in general, all people below me. Thank you for teaching me the value of competitiveness. Blah blah blah blah.

Not to be nonchalant or ungrateful......those are pretty important things and I'm glad I learnt them in a place where I didn't have to pay for all my mistakes. Today, however, in this missive, I take aim at a single, solitary letter printed on my leaving certificate.

You remember this, don't you? The C you gave me in Maturity? Yeah. That still hurts when I think about it occasionally, because you thankfully mean significantly less to me now than you did then. I realize now that had my school actually required that document, you might have done me a lot more damage than you did.

I'm not angry anymore.

Then I was. I was very angry and hurt. I CAN monkey around a hell of a lot but at 15 (hell, at 12), I had a pretty solid head on my shoulders and resented you telling me that you'd managed to IGNORE that entire side of me and see ONLY things like Queen Sana, or talking in class, or giggling with Jas.

It's been 2 years since then. Where are you and where am I?

I just won a Citizenship Award, and I'm really happy about it....this means that teachers IN my school voted for me to receive it as a model of virtue or something like that. Maybe they just felt sorry for me, I don't know....but it's something I'm taking and holding very, very dear. I also just finished my last year of high school with a pretty big bang, and made some very good friends of not just my peers, but my teachers as well.

Where are you now, I ask with a bitchy little grin?

A large number of excellent teachers just left. A few more of them are retiring. The quality of your students, I don't know much about, but from what I hear from people STILL attending, it's not what it once was.

In short, SGS, I've done better than you have.

It angers me slightly that I allowed myself to feel so upset and unhappy over that STUPID rating you gave me, coming from a school that for a very long time, did absolutely nothing for me.

It's kind of sad.

I had those few wonderful, wonderful teachers and friends who gave me the education and lessons I carry with me today, but as a school in GENERAL? Nothing quite spectacular, my dears. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. Lessons I would have learned otherwise. Extra workloads I didn't need. Things I did that went totally unacknowledged (thank you, _______________). Opportunities I couldn't get because I wasn't local. I know that's not YOUR fault, but I'm LUMPIN' IT IN ANYWAY.

I'm not sure if I deserve the Citizenship award. I'm thrilled beyond measure that someone thought good enough of me to give it to me. If you knew me at all, you'd realize I rarely do this. Gloat, whinge, blame and in general, bad mouth.

But I guess you didn't ever know me that well, did you?

Sigh. Honour and Labour, eh? Still remember every word of that damn song.....it's a bit of a sad situation where a student looks back on a school and realizes....

That for the most part, she invested a lot more in them than they did in her. I wish you'd had a bit more faith.

If I Were Your Mother

2007-11-11T19:59:00.000+11:00

If I Were Your Mother,

I'd slap some sense into your head,
To fill your foolish heart with dread,
I'd arm you with the self control,
I learned from years and years before.

I'd hold you while you cried in shame,
For all the boys who now could name,
All contours of your body whole,
And called you a skank and a whore.

I'd round up all your so called friends,
Interrogate them to the bitter ends
Of the earth for their complicit part,
In every tear you shed,

Round up them boys, and blast them away,
For taunting you like they did that day,
I'd unleash the wrath of a mother's heart,
On every bastard's jackass head.

I'd place you under house arrest,
Till you learned it's not proper to get undressed,
In front of strangers who're laughing at you,
Not laughing with you as they say,

I'd teach you that it's OK to be sober,
The shame of being the drunken disrober,
The security to know that friends who are true,
Don't require some stupid display.

I'd let you know people are jerks inside,
They'll smile at you, then go snotty and snide,
They'll tell you they think you're super hot,
Then laugh at your cheapness, my dear.

I'd try, in short, to get you to see,
That you're only as worth it as you want to be,
I'd tell you that life's a melting pot,
Of confusion and darkness and fear.

You know what the scary thing is, guys? In maybe 20 years, I COULD be this girl's mother. And it sure as hell won't be that easy then.

I wish someone had told her this....I really do.

Honey, Jesus Hisself Woulda Cried.

2007-11-04T19:04:00.000+11:00

I do not appreciate ignorance.

May it be said that I do not appreciate ignorance, which means that I dislike people who make arguments and try to talk through their asshats about things they have not studied, things they do not understand, and things they have not examined from both sides.

I especially hate when people use misconceptions as evidence, without first REALIZING that they are misconceptions. People who listen to gossip and the media and will not accept that there could be a different view point because "the media said so".

Even more than this, I despise people who stand on a moral high ground while doing this.

I will not mention names, but recently, I heard a conversation regarding Islam. Anyone who has spoken to me knows that, having studied both Christianity and Islam, I have certain views that will not be shaken, certain views like, oh say, All Muslims Aren't Terrorists, or Islam Is Not A Religion of Violence, or Muslims Are Just As Creative And Free To Think As Adherents From Any Other Religion.

What really angered me about this conversation was that the people involved were using evidence they gleaned from media, misconceptions, and a LITTLE bit of information that they THINK they know from the Qur'an, and using it to lambast the religion.

And HYEEERES the kicker! They were doing so to compare it to the Love and Compassion and Tolerance of Jesus Christ.

Christ Jesus, if you're listening to this, I wonder if YOU'RE proud. I wonder if YOU approve of this. If YOU approve of people who, in your name, put down a religion without knowing ANYTHING about it other than that a SELECT MINORITY group are terrorists and a SELECT MINORITY GROUP beat their wives.

Jesus, my Lord, I wonder if YOU, at least, remember the Crusades. And the Spanish Inquisition. And if you remember the ridiculously high divorce and abuse rates in primarily Anglo-Christian countries like the US, the UK, Canada and Australia.

I wonder if YOU really think it's so much worse to marry four women at the same time, IF you can treat them all equally and IF your intentions were pure. Whether or not they were, depends on the individual. But provided that they can justify it to themselves and their god, who the bloody hell is ANYONE to judge them?!

In short, Jesus.....I wonder how you, the religion you founded and the public FACE of that religion would turn out if people only practiced what they claimed to stand for. If, while extolling virtues of peace and compassion and tolerance, they actually LOVED. They actually TOLERATED. They actually bothered to LEARN about things before ridiculing or mocking them.

Abu Hamid bin Mohammad Al-Ghazali once said, "An ignorant Muslim is more dangerous than a non-believer".

Christian dumbasses, hillbillies, religious fanatics, uninformed morons and country bumpkins, take heed, for ALTHOUGH IT WAS WRITTEN BY ONE OF THEM TERRO-RISST MOOZLIMS, it has IMMENSE merit.

Idiots.

Of Irony and Life's Twisted Sense of Humour

2007-11-01T10:13:00.000+11:00

Life, being that she IS one giant meanfaced skank with a cruel, horrid sense of humour, dictates that:

1) The hot guy living down the street WILL choose the exact moment you're walking to the recycle bin on the front lawn in a Grandma bun, a RED nightie with GREEN flowers on it and blue fuzzy socks to (insert verb here that results in him SEEING you in said getup),

as opposed to

when, say, you're coming back from Church in a pretty, pretty kurta with lovely matching accessories and, with fro looking resplendent in it's perfect-waved glory.

2) The house is FULL of chocolate of all sorts, as per It's-MY-HSC-And-I'll-Binge-If-I-Want-To protocol,

but

when the tiny trick-or-treater with the enormous smile and big eyes comes to your door, you find you've got NOTHING that's in it's own little individually wrapped package, making you the horrible mean lady who killed a kid's spirit.

3) The chemistry paper WILL ask you four questions from the TWO dot points you haven't covered,

and

nothing on the other 50 you spent months hand writing and researching, not to mention the FOUR HOURS YOU SPENT on the goddamn table comparing photovoltaic cells to fuel cells, button cells and Vanadium redox cells.

4) You'll still get a higher mark for Chemistry, whose teacher screwed you over by not teaching you anything and showing up for class 10 minutes late every time (that is, if she didn't SKIP class to watch football, her daughter's many, many sporting events or House)

than Physics, for which

the teacher has covered every single syllabus point in meticulous detail, giving you stacks of notes and resources and pracs and problem sheets that make damn well CERTAIN you know the difference between an n-type and a p-type semiconductor. Not to mention exactly HOW these semiconductors combine with principles of photoelectricity to give you the SOLAR CELL, the DIODE and the PHOTOCELL, depending on which types of semiconductor are used.

5) The hot water, after faithfully spewing you with scalding water at RANDOM all through the boiling summer,

will

break down the second a) the winter solstice rears its ugly head, b) you have a nasty backache or c) a bad exam, after which all you want to do is take a hot shower. Extra points if it's all three.

Oh, Life! If only you weren't such a malefeasant, mortifying pile of malevolent meanness, I think we'd get along just fine, and here's why:

In the TRUE spirit of irony, DESPITE your (apparent) disdain for me, I still think you're pretty damn funny :D

Winter

2007-10-23T09:29:00.000+10:00

Winter - Josh Radin

I should know who I am by now
I walk the record stand somehow
Thinkin' of winter
The name is the splinter inside me
While I wait

And I remember the sound
Of your November downtown
And I remember the truth
A warm December with you

But I don't have to make this mistake
And I don't have to stay this way
If only I would wake

The walk has all been cleared by now
Your voice is all I hear somehow
Calling out winter
Your voice is the splinter inside me
While I wait

And I remember the sound
Of your November downtown
And I remember the truth
A warm December with you
But I don't have to make this mistake
And I don't have to stay this way
If only I would wake

I could have lost myself
In rough blue waters in your eyes
And I miss you still

Oh I remember the sound
Of your November downtown
And I remember the truth
A warm December with you
But I don't have to make this mistake
And I don't have to stay this way
If only I would wake

This song makes me cry and I don't know why....it's probably because of the Scrubs episode it's in.

But I think it's something more. Go listen to it here:

40,000 Others

2007-10-03T14:59:00.000+10:00

It's so damn scary.

These big, huge, scary exams are in just over 2 weeks.

But that's not the scary bit.

The scary bit is how ridiculously underprepped I feel. Oh sure, I've got my folders of notes and my beautifully organized papers and my immaculate schedule.

But it feels so inadequate.....and I'm sitting down to do the things on my list but it all feels so irrelevant. I KNOW, in my heart of hearts, that this is stuff that'll prepare me for these exams and that it's OK, I really SHOULD read Malouf another time and make good notes on him, I SHOULD go through my Rel notes with the syllabus to make sure I haven't missed anything, I SHOULD analyze every text in the BOS Booklet to cover my bases...

I should do all these things.

Yeah?

I know, I know....it's NOT the end of the world, if I don't get into Med, I'll get Biomed and probably be just as happy, if not happier......but all these seem like empty justifications for not using my time as well as I should.

40,000 other people doing this exam with me.....and I still feel like I'm facing this all on my own.

Self-centered cow.

The Disintegration of Utopia

2007-09-29T13:26:00.000+10:00

Reading Fel's angry post dated the 19th of September made me think really hard about Brunei.

You know what?

Brunei is a place I retreat to in my head....when I feel lonely or pissed off or unhappy or just homesick, I think back to that wonderful, green, tax-free utopia, where food and jewellery are cheap and friends are plentiful.

Brunei is my mind's paradise, and I can't WAIT to get back there in _____________ (I'M STILL NOT TELLING YOU WHEN!).

Or can I?

Sigh.

Reading Fel's post reminded me of something I hadn't thought about in a LONG time, and do you know what that is?

That the country I love, adore, grew up in and that shaped so much of my personality....

IS FULL OF ASSHOLES.

I'm NOT kidding. Much as I've fooled myself into believing it was the happiest place on Earth, it WASN'T. People hoot at you on the street if you're fat or thin, or pretty or ugly, they don't smile at you at all, if you smile at THEM you're a suspicious character, they're racist and rude and obnoxious....

And this is the general populace! YES, there are WONDERFUL people, and I met so many of them, people I'll always keep in contact with, people who made life worth living, people who'll be at my wedding.

But truly and honestly, for the most part?! BRUNEI IS FULL OF GODDAMNED RACIST PROFILING PERVY ASSHOLES!!!

And I'm disillusioned and unhappy about it. The first thing that struck me about Aussie is that people are just nice. Maybe it's superficial nice, maybe they're ALL assholes underneath. But they smile at you, and ask how your day went, and if you accidentally knock something down in an aisle in the supermarket, it's OK lav, people make mistakes, we'll clean that up in a jiffy (as opposed to, "Haiiyaah, my job SO impotan wannn, why dis pipol wasting my TIIME! EEEEEH!!")

Seriously?

I think I'm just scared that this visit will completely rip the image of my beautiful home from my mind.

I've invested FAR too much time and energy in that image for it to disappoint me now.

Average, But Okay

2007-09-21T19:30:00.000+10:00

I got my Trial report back today.

For the most part, I was pretty happy. I got above 80's in everything (even Horror Math, thank you Scaling!), and a 90 in chemmy chem.

And as for my UMAT results, they were good. Not WONDERFUL, OH MY GOD THAT GIRL'S A GENIUS, but good. 81st percentile in the state, is pretty good in my books.

And that's when it hit me, REALLY hit me.

People have been telling me all my life that I'm very smart, intelligent, brilliant, prodigy, etc etc etc, and I lapped it right up.

BUT HERE'S THE THING.

I'm actually not.

I'm an above average intelligent girl, who has to work really hard to push from an 85 to a 92, as opposed to the genius freakchild that people have always thought I was, the one who gets 95s without breaking a sweat.

But do you know the WEIRDEST thing ever?

The fact that, hey, I'm OK. I'm really perfectly and totally OK with that. There used to be a time where it would not only bother me, but maybe even make me cry that I wasn't simply AWESOME, FANTASTIC, GENIUS SUPREME.

Maybe this country really HAS made me grow. Thank God for that. The stuffy little overperfectionistic, hypercompetitive freak wouldn't survive Med school.

But perhaps this slightly dumber but harder-working kid who can accept her own shortcomings, will.

Crushes Suck.

2007-09-20T16:45:00.000+10:00

I KNEW this would happen!!

Which is EXACTLY why I was SO very careful about it.

I DELIBERATELY didn't let myself get properly attached.

I CLEVERLY made sure I never said, "I liked him" without adding, "Because I was bored."

I CUNNINGLY didn't make a jackass of myself around him, opting instead for the icy stance (If I can't be Funny Matmat, I'd rather be That Cool Bitch as opposed to The Mealy Mouthed Blatherer).

And I RATHER BRILLIANTLY made sure to give myself LOTS of pep talks telling myself this was temporary and that it'd pass.

(it didn't pass.)

I'm sorry, WHAT?

(I said, It didn't pass.)

Err, you'll need to speak up, dear.

IT DIDN'T PASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHY didn't it pass?! HOW the hell did I let him GROW on me?! NO! He's NOT my type, I'm ABSOLUTELY not his type, he's the FURTHEST from my type you could GET! (within reasonability, people!)

And yet, I'm stuck now with a crush that won't leave me the hell alone.

:( And I leave school in about five days. And then, after another five weeks, I won't see him again ever.

The scariest and most annoying thing is, I don't know if it'll affect me.

Nerds Are Hot

2007-09-15T19:57:00.000+10:00

Is something I shall add to the list of things I CAN'T actually say to you.

But just so you know.....nerds are really hot, and you, therefore, just received an ENORMOUS ass compliment from me....

The girl with the crush on you.

Much love (yet another thing I can't say),

Sana

SURVEY! But only because I'm bored.

2007-09-10T17:14:00.000+10:00

Tell us your name:
Matmat. My name, is Matmat.

Three things about yourself:
1. My friends exist to tell me I'm thin.
2. I'm actually NOT thin, but I cover it up by talking FAR too much about my (rather fabulous) ass.
3. I'm short, but I'm loud enough to make up for it.

What's in your playlist:
I listen to a LOT of random things....and I don't own a playLIST, I play random free stuff from Radioblog, and yes I AM cheap, and yes I AM Indian, how'd you guess? But anyway, I mostly listen to Lifehouse, 3 Doors Down, Switchfoot, Sugarcult, The Calling, Maksim....endless possibilities.

Your favorite music:
Maksim, 3DD, Lifehouse, Switchfoot, Radiohead, (pleasedon'tshootmeforthis) Justin Timberlake, K.J. Yesudas, M.S. Subbulakshmi, A.R. Rahman, Beyonce, I can basically listen to and like absolutely anything.

Favorite guilty pleasure:
Timtams dipped in Milo. Mmm, hot DAYME. Oh, and Doritos and salsa. And pie. And Magnums.

And pie. Have I mentioned pie? I REALLY like pie.

Favorite food:
All the usual (pasta, chocolate, etc) but nothing in the world is more delicious to me than chicken and capsicum curry, rajma and that lovely lamb and butterbeans curry ma makes.

Define love:
I don't think I've learnt enough yet to answer this question. I CAN, however, define Bitterness, Infatuation and Longing for you.

Define sex:
Something I wouldn't even be able to spell if my parents had their way. But aside from this, I maintain that it's a ridiculously huge commitment you only make to someone you've devoted your life to.

Any celebrity crushes?
Nope, I've always been faaar too logical and practical for those.

The last person you hugged:
Cait, I think, or Elise :P I hug a LOT of people a LOT of times a day!

The last person you talked to:
Ma, told her to grab me some Sorbolene from the chemist :) Meehee!

The last time I cried:
I don't cry often.

The last person you dated:
Bitch, please! ;)

The last time you went out:
Oh, oh! FINALLY, I CAN ANSWER THIS QUESTION! Day before YESTERDAY, when I went to the Deb ball :) (thanks, Smit :P)

What's on your mind now?
"I bloody hate being the logical girl."

What's bothering you?
"I bloody hate being the logical girl." Also, "Good god, I have to spend three days with a pack of females who DON'T actually like me very much." Oh, and "I'MGOINGTOFAILALLMYEXAMSSOMEONEJUSTKILLMENOW!"

This year's resolutions:
1. Bit late for that, innit? BUT to study my ass off and get into med school (for my pride) or biomed (for my joy).
2. Lose weight to fit into my GORGEOUS, ASSKICKINGLY SUPERHOT formal dress.
3. To be able to sacrifice my pride for things that mean something to me.

Your MSN nick:
"`oy. (you're wrong. it IS in his eyes)"

What's your MSN nick about?
Oy, because I just constantly say Oy, and the second part...well, I was just thinking about how much more appealing a guy is if he looks you straight in the eye. It just catches you SO off guard that you're forced to stare right back.

And that right there, THAT'S a beautiful moment. (And no, you can NEVER use this against me.)

The people you miss the most:
Nazmi, Mala, Sarah, Jas, Lyn, Teo, Josh, Mato, Sharmat, Divs, Kavi, Useni Aunty.....god, let's just list out the Bruneian population, now shall we?

Current mood:
Worried, nervous but functional.

What are you thinking?
Again, "I BLOODY HATE BEING THE GODDAMNED LOGICAL GIRL." I also wish I didn't have to regret things I was once so damn sure of.

Best childhood memory:
Oh, god, there were many :D Caroline over at my house in the snow, Krazy Karpet-ing down the hill at school, playing around in the school playground, dance classes with Aunty, especially those last ones with Naz, Empire with the girls, Indira's house, Sarah and Jas crashing my place, tuition with all of them, phonecalls to Naz and Tash, walks with Mala......I maintain I'm still a child and have the right to continue creating these memories.

3 of your biggest fears:
1. Failing the UMAT.
2. Failure, period.
3. Rejection.

Who do you love:
Rachel is my favourite person in the world, but then the rest of my family, my adoptive family, my girls, my guys....and ME. (OK, ELISE, AND YOU ;) I laav you!)

3 things you hate:
1. Hypocrisy.
2. Racism.
3. When the Canteen is out of pie. ESPECIALLY on Pie Day!!!!!

Do you blog?
Shaw :P

Tag 5 people.
Welll, since Fool my precious wanted to be prominent, I tag YOU, and also Josh, Jana, Nikki and Izzah :)

Clean Hands

2007-09-04T18:49:00.000+10:00

I've always been MIGHTY proud of myself, for many reasons.

One, because I'm just naturally a fathead, and two because I've always felt rather clever for being able to avoid most of the heartbreaks, roadblocks and kicks-in-the-face that life has to offer people my age.

I was always the smart child, remember? The one who never did ANYTHING dumb, who watched her back, who spoke only when spoken to, who offended no one important if she could help it, who never washed that yellow Hari Kebangsaan shirt because she was scared the green logo would dissolve, and remember someone DID, and it DID dissolve?

Ha HA, Sana laughed then, she did! Because people were all, "Ew....it's so DIRTYYYY, idiotlahwashitlahhhh....".

And I didn't, and I emerged with a perfectly intact, albeit rather odd smelling YELLOW HARI KEBANGSAAN SHIRT.

I'm also the girl who refused to complain about certain teachers, despite their cruddy teaching skills. Even though I knew higher ups would have trusted the opinion of a student like me, who they KNEW was both hardworking and relatively level headed.

Because some people DID complain, and when they did and got reprimanded, Sana laughed AGAIN.

Sana KNEW, you see, that they'd get in trouble for doing stuff like that, and Sana didn't get in trouble. Sana kept her head down and worked as well as she could with the crap teacher, rather than risk her OWN street cred for a better one.

Clever, clever little Sana.

The result of a life lived thus, I am proud to say, is that I VERY rarely get my hands dirty. I don't ask people out, I don't tell people I like them, I don't hold raucous parties at random that I know will get out of hand, I don't ATTEND raucous parties at random that I know will get out of hand. I'm a wonderfully clean-handed, boring little know-it-all.

Know....what-all now?

I've just been thinking a lot about this GUY...who I REALLY should ask to the Formal at the end of the year.....but I'm so scared that he'll just say no. It's not a big deal, rejection is common, expected, and let's face it, inevitable. But nothing in my arsenal of collected and acquired wisdom has prepared me for this.

LIFE, you bitch, where the hell WERE you when you were supposed to be teaching me to DEAL with this stuff!?!?

Oh yeah.

You were.....there. Giving me opportunities to take risks all the time.

With people, with places, with friends, with enemies, with opinions, with relationships.....

I was just always content to sit and watch OTHER people do things, take notes and pretend to be allllll VISE.

Vise, my ass.

I wish I could get over this fear to DO things for myself...other people, no problem. It's not that I lack COURAGE to do things.....but it's that pride.....that abominable pride.....

Much as I hate that bitch......It'd kill me to see her get hurt.

If only she'd return the goddamned favour.

Sober ::: Exchange

2007-09-02T21:13:00.000+10:00

Sober

So here's the thing.

There are basically three kinds of people in our lives.

Those we talk to even when we're sober.

Those we talk to only when we're drunk.

And those who we'd never talk to even when completely wasted.

And all my life, I'm going to spend time to making sure that the people in MY life consider me the first kind....someone you can talk to and confide in and pour out your soul to when you make a conscious decision to uncork your emotions.

Being the drunk call buddy is made QUITE a big deal of in pop culture....but being the sober call buddy? Now that, that is really something.

Exchange

It turns out, my fab kids....that all the hours I've been putting into studying WILL pay off, but not quite in the way that I want it to.

See, I may be top in Chem and Physics and maybe Rel, and second in English and third in the 2 mathses that I do.....all considered above average and in some cases suicidally hard subjects.

But I might have lost my shot at being Dux of the School. School Dux is the kid who gets the HIGHEST marks in all of their subjects, basically the person with the highest aggregate, and due to the fact that I'm GOOD in my subbies but not GREAT, I may have lost my one chance of being top.

The guy who IS going to get top (most likely, him or another girl)....I was just wondering if I'd swap his life for mine. His ability to calculate numbers to 17 decimal places for my oh-so-intelligent, "7/2 is 3 and a seventh" responses. His near-photographic memory of things he sees and reads for my copious pages of painstakingly handwritten notes. His general "I actually hate all of you, so none of you can really hurt me, ya realize that, right?" attitude for my constant second guessing of EVERY situation and EVERY conversation because I'm scared you won't like me.

The answer, as I'm certain you'll have guessed, is no.

No, I'd never exchange my life, imperfect as it is at times, for his. Life, unfortunately, only comes as one homogeneous skank of a lump. If we could swap certain parts of it, it wouldn't be so hard, would it? If I could MAYBE give up some self doubt for the photographic memory, or a LITTLE flab for the athleticism, or a SMIDGEN of obnoxiousness for a quick mind, it'd all be right n fab.

But no. I'd also have to give up Mala, Naz, Jas, Sarah, Elise, Rachel, Shama, music, laughter, a nice butt, Mrs. Fields brownies, my jewellery collection (!) and let's face it, a life that, if not for these little annoying things....

Is pretty much perfect. And if you're still reading this, know that you're a part of that perfect life.

I Think......

2007-08-14T17:52:00.000+10:00

I might have just failed my first Maths test since....Primary 4. Even the horrible A Maths Mid Year (or was it Mocks?) papers that were so bad that people CRIED......weren't quite as bad as this. (And I passed those: barely did and it was thanks to Paper 2, but I passed)

And trust me, this was....pretty bad.

The worst is, however, yet to come, with Extension 2 (Think of it as Advanced Squared) paper on the 17th. I'm dreading it: usually Ex1 is WAY better than Ex2....although this time I'm not sure if there's anything to improve on.

Sigh. 30% of zero going towards my goddamn HSC Assessment, whoopteedee.

It really sucks because I studied.

I actually did WORK for this thing.

I don't know what happened but whatever did might have just cost me bigtime.

But I took a nice long bubble bath, and feel and smell like a goddess.

So I suppose, for another day at least, I'll be OK.

Sobface

2007-08-09T12:42:00.000+10:00

"I think it's time to just move on......" Lifehouse, Come Back Down

Yeah, I seem to be in an uber sobby mood of late.

Rachel just left and after two months, the house just feels empty.

And I can't focus on Chem.

But I SHOULD.

So I should stop being a lazy SKANK and just dive into it.

YEAH!

But on a second note, another reason for the sobbyness......

Is that I finally found that song.

You know the one, don't you?

The song that could always make me cry.

Because it makes me think of you.

I guess I'll never know, will I?

In A World Like Ours,

2007-08-05T17:31:00.000+10:00

It's often difficult to find things that you REALLY REALLY love doing.

So I say, when you DO, take that Chemistry syllabus and chuck it aside, and go organize some JEWELLERY!!!

:D!

God, I LOVE jewellery. You children remember my famous collection, obviously, it was the gold standard for enthusiasts everywhere....

But it's EXPANDED!!! And when you're bored and burned out, sometimes you have NO CHOICE but to lovingly separate each piece out BY group, counting them out and then precariously standing on the bed to take pictures of them.

If I believed in reincarnation, I'd like to be reborn as a pretty pair of earrings in my jewellery box, because bitches, NOTHING is loved as much! ;)

So, we started off with THIS. Now, it doesn't look like much, but that is a BIG PILE.

Oh, it's denser than it looks!

Just for refs, my bed's a queen ;)

Two and a half hours LATER, the tally stands at:

86 pairs of long earrings
40 pairs of studs and little earrings (School friendly)
28 necklaces
17 bracelets
5 rings
8 pretty hair clippy or pin things
12 random pendants (not including the 23 lockets I have in The Box)

God, I FREAKIN love jewellery!

And I believe I've just made my most bimbotic post, ever.

Cheers!

Random Thoughts

2007-07-30T17:50:00.000+10:00

Wow.

My 100th post.

I feel I should do something special....a smart post, a ceremional dance, a ritual slaughter....but I had something to post, so I'll just do that. I've had a BUNCH of random uncategorized thoughts floating around my large head so I'll put them all down. Some are deep. Some are shallow. Some are just plain squicky. All are mine.

- When you like someone, you find yourself able to think of them on a cold day....and fill with warmth.

- Oh, C. You're one of those smart, interesting and funny touchy-feely sorts of guys that I find exTREMELY attractive. Oh, and I have a feeling you like me. But for God's sake, you're like three.

Ok, not THAT young. But young enough for me to feel like a paedophile.

- A great way to discourage yourself from liking younger guys is to imagine how old they were when you first got your period.

- In about five months, I'll have started my bachelors degree. ME. DOING A BACHELORS DEGREE. OH MY GOD.

- I love math so much because there are solutions to everything....and there's always a way to solve it. I wish life was more like math.

- Gil Grissom is SOOOOO ridiculously hot. I think it's the whole "KNOWING STUFF" thing. Kevin Loh's a bit like that. Not the ridiculously hot part, but I've always respected that kid for just wanting to KNOW things.

- I have to memorize specific quotes from about 7 different texts for English, so I'm screwed.

- I don't think I started studying for these exams early enough and it makes me want to cry.

- People who do the whole, "But look at me, I got lower than you, so be happy!" thing piss the hell out of me. Don't you GET it? I come from a place where a 96 isn't respected if someone else, just one person, got a 97. I'm used to pushing myself to the very top for a measly ranking.....not for a score. I'm not LIKE you, but I swear to God, I wish I could be.

- Straight hair is so much nicer on me than the messy curls. According to Rachel I look too Indian with my curls. I think that's crap. I've always been really proud of my culture.....but I HAVE to admit the straight hair looks fantastic.

So there we have it.

All the random, weird thoughts that have been lurking around under the (hotter by far when straight) Sanafro.

Cheers, children ;)

Just Close Your Eyes, Baby, And This Day Is Over....

2007-07-24T20:16:00.000+10:00

I've had a pretty bad day.

1) Physics assessment task worth about 7.5% of my FINAL HSC, that I prepared for, bowled. REALLY badly. EVERYONE's models were better than mine and it sucks, because I really did try. The teachers examining were nice, but HIGHLY condescending....sigh. Bad. Really bad. I've been studying REALLY hard for Physics this whole year and it's only borne fruit ONCE.

2) Did something HIDEOUSLY embarrassing in front of crush boy. Let's just assume it was PRETTY horrible.

3) Got chemistry assessment back. Bad. First time being not being first or second in class.

4) Just finished practice for the Undergrad Medicine test....it's tomorrow and determines whether or not I get into Med school or not or have to waste a year. This round of practice went REALLY badly....69% as opposed to 83% for the first set of questions.

But ENORMOUS thanks to:

1) Natalie for the GORGEOUS birthday present, you made a HIDEOUS day bearable :)

2) Tom and Emily for the hugs and encouragement during Chem.

3) Skip and Pesto for discussing how "Yeah, Sangy's gonna dominate trials and...." within earshot. You kids do wonders for my self esteem!

4) Eez, my flowwerh, for your insanely hilarious methods of cheering me up after this crappy prac, they worked REALLY well, and I quote, "She's hell in heels!"

5) My physics class: Kids, we're all solidarity n that!

Sigh. I think I'll just go to bed now.....I love my friends so much!!!!!!!!!

Sad Drunk

2007-07-17T17:45:00.000+10:00

Wow. My first poem in over a YEAR.

This is one of those poems of mine that isn't necessarily DEPRESSING, but just inherently sad.

Now, this actually IS a personal poem....I have never had a drink in my life and I don't intend to anytime soon, but this is what I think I'd be like. No, I don't go around with fake smiles, but the truth is I get unhappy a lot more than people think I do.....I try keeping cheerful but sometimes it DOES get really hard.

Sad Drunk

I’m the sad drunk sitting alone,
The one that you ignore,
I’m the random, the unknown,
The one that needs this more,

Than you with your stupid Cruiser,
That you down to drown your cares,
I’m just that goddamned loser,
Who sits and stares and stares.

The loudest voice you hear is mine,
But that’s when we’re sober again,
That’s when everything’s fine, all fine,
That’s when you won’t see the pain.

I can only unleash it when you won’t recall,
The broken, the painful, the bare,
Till then, I blend nicely into the wall,
When you’re wasted, then buddy, I’ll share.

Because tomorrow’s another day, fresh and new,
I’ll be fun, you’ll be awed, we’ll be cool,
My problems forgotten, at least by you,
For that lonely, miserable fool,

Ain’t someone you’re going to connect with me,
Because she’s so unhappy, so bleak,
This bright and cheerful bundle of glee,
Could have nothing to do with that freak.

You, of course, you have no clue,
That my smiles and my fake, shiny cheer,
Are one act plays, re-enacted for you,
Masking oceans of uncried tears.

I'll Call You Adam

2007-07-15T15:07:00.000+10:00

You were really cute, you know.

And you looked the picture of laid-back nonchalance as you played your guitar....it was an air of, not smugness, but confidence. You knew how good you were and with supreme coolness, played the hell out of that thing, upstaging your drummer (typically emo, black hair longer than mine and covering his face in a thick curtain), and the other two guitarists, even though one of them had a cooler guitar than you.

I wish, for all it was worth, that this entry was more flowery, more lovesick, more irrational.

But I'll tell you why it's not.

I'll tell you why my descriptions are crisp and to the point, and not overflowing with infatuation.

It's because I'm the Practical Girl. I always HAVE been the Practical Girl. See, the little kid who was never sold on Santa, who the Easter Bunny never held mystical appeal for, who the Tooth Fairy was, as she knew all along, her mom.....she grew up into a young woman for whom such heavyweight concepts as Love at First Sight and Wild, Exotic Unknown Crushes.........

Are foreign.

Are idiocies.

Are irrational bouts of foolishness to be discouraged.

But sometimes rationality and logic and practicality aren't all that. I realized while watching this guy play that he's the sort of guy that the girls in movies fall madly in love with, stalk, obsess over and ultimately, as ONLY I KNOW BECAUSE I AM THE PRACTICAL GIRL, have their hearts broken by.

I wish I didn't always have to think I have all the answers. I wish I could sometimes be that girl in the movies, who gets the irrational crush and carries on in blind faith. I wish that I didn't always calculate probabilites and discard things as unlikely, impossible, irrational, under the guise of protecting myself from heartbreak.

Because the truth is that I'm NOT running around trying to protect myself from heartbreak, and that's why I never take any risks.

It's because I'm so scared that someone will penetrate my veneer of total and complete independance and show me that my confidence is an utter sham.

Dear Life,

2007-07-12T21:35:00.000+10:00

You may, of course, have the upper hand, given that you know what's coming and I don't.

However, I LAUGH at your pitiful attempts to bring me down!!!

You may make my FABULOUS FRO look GREASY,

But I LAUGH AT YOU, and stick some Microtexx styling protectant and make it look SHINY, THE GOOD WAY!!

You may make Mrs. Squires take AGES to reply with answers to the million questions I have about my Chemistry practical portfolio,

But watch me fabricate results and make up answers with an evil little grin on my face.

You may make Sheep as interesting to talk to as.....well, an actual sheep,

But see now, how I cleverly ask him questions about PowerMaths and force him to bitch about Exercise 8C!

You may make it impossible for me to view a PET scan machine because Taree's impossibly small, and therefore making me fail Physics,

But bitch, Astrophysics is the EASIEST course to get into, HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW?!?!?!
(No seriously, you only need 70% as opposed to 95% for Med, what is up with that?)

You may make my arms flabby and laugh as I perform stupid toning exercises that make me look deformed,

But when I fit into my gorgeously form-fitting formal dress and EVERY HEAD TURNS to look at my FABULOUS BOOTYLICIOUSNESS, I will LAUGH RIGHT BACK AT YOU!!!!! (And YES, I DID just shamelessly use the word "bootyliciousness".)

You may make me an imposing, intimidating 5-footer, making it IMPOSSIBLE for me to find a boyfriend to order around,

But my parents will find me a nice doctor, and when they do, I'll have my own personal biatch, AND he'll be Brown!

You may, in fact, throw everything you've got at me and try to crush me under my workload, under my insecurities, under my boredom, under my feelings of inadequacy.

But at the end of the day, we both know who's going to come out of this on top.

And it's me.

And I REFUSE to let you get the better of me!!!!

Love,

Sana Banana Matmat

These Ties That Bind

2007-07-05T12:03:00.000+10:00

I just finished reading, shellshocked, about this.

I didn't know this boy, just that he was from my old school and was close to some friends of mine.

It disturbed me a lot, considering it was someone I didn't even know....and I think it's because death is such a powerfully universal concept.

We're doing Antony and Cleopatra in school in English class (Cleo is a fantastic bitch, Tony is a wussy manwhore), and in the final scene where Cleo has just taken her life, Caesar (who is indirectly responsible for her death and Tony's as well), gives them a respectable burial. He hated these two with a passion and did all he could to bring about their downfall, but in death chose to do something honourable.

What is this mysterious power death HAS over us, that causes such personality 180's?

It's pretty simple. We float around, day in and day out, on our own little clouds of love and hate, of joy and sadness, of friends and enemies.

What death does is snatch those clouds from under our feet and we hurtle down to earth with astonishing force. Suddenly find out that hey, we're ACTUALLY mortal.

This ACTUALLY happens.

And who knew, there are OTHER people with their OWN clouds up there, too!

I didn't know this boy, and I hope his soul rests in perfect peace. But I hope he realizes, wherever he is now, that he's caused one heck of a powerful happening.

Momentarily, at least, girls have stopped calling out "SKANK". Boys have stopped beating each other up. People don't write nasty things about others on bathroom doors. They don't gang up on their teacher. They don't backstab, they don't bitch, they don't gossip.

They just....are.

In death, we all just....are.

Rest in peace, bro.

Shaadi Dot What The Feck?

2007-06-16T19:08:00.001+10:00

For all of you children not of the Brown, Shaadi.com is the most popular Indian matrimonial site, and it's become our hugest joke, hugest shame, and hugest success story, all in one.

Now, here's the hilarious thing: My post actually doesn't have anything to do with this website, but rather, the ceremony that follows, the marriage itself. I am proud to be part of a culture with such strong marital bonds and such commitment and loyalty. I wouldn't mind an arranged marriage, because I think it's a good way to ensure that you don't get hideous surprises (pregnant girlfriends, syphillis, schizoid mother) when you're well into your married bliss. But still, there do exist certain imperfections with the Indian marriage system as a WHOLE, and so here, for your viewing displeasure:

Things About Indian Weddings That Piss Me Off

- The 600-something randoms that neither me or my husband to be actually KNOWS. I've been to family weddings where there have been over 500 people, and half of them are cousins of uncles of grand nephews, or some other obscure relation. Now, my parents, grandparents and their siblings, people who've WATCHED ME GROW UP, I want at my wedding. Not some total stranger who comes for the free food. IT'S A WEDDING, NOT A FREAKIN' OPEN HOUSE.

- Said 600 randoms taking photos with the happy couple. Who are you KIDDING?! Can you even spell my NAME without looking at the invitation that, for whatever reason, you got?

- The fact that during my cousins' wedding (Which was fab, and I'm thrilled for them), the bride didn't know the words to the songs. THE BRIDE DIDN'T KNOW THE HYMNS BEING SUNG AT HER OWN WEDDING! Over my dead body will they pick some draconian hymn that I neither know nor like to be sung at MY wedding. I shall be in charge of picking my OWN music, thank you very much.

- Fourth cousins paying tribute. I'm sorry, I know this is harsh, but unless you are VERY VERY close to me, I don't WANT you to sing Shania Twain's "From This Moment", especially if you are a GUY! Don't! Just don't! Send me a card, that'll be just fine!

- Grease. God bless the women in my family. They're SO cool and so classy, and don't feel the need to display their healthy, beautiful hair by wrapping it in layers of coconut oil. It makes you look so squicky and uncomfy, and a bit like a rat. I put oil in my hair too, so does everyone in my family. We just don't wear it with pride for a fab night about town.

And a fab night about town it is. I swear, I can't WAIT to eventually find a nice boy and get married, it sounds like so much FUN! :D I realize this is starting to creep you out slightly, so I'll stop it there. Farewell, my precious darlings!

And Idiot Say.....What Now?

2007-06-14T17:08:00.000+10:00

Dear Boy,

I want you to know something from the VERY depths of my being, because it has touched me deeply and I feel the need to tell you this, because you're special to me.

I am smarter than you.

Yes, yes, it is true. I REALIZE I act slightly retarded around you, but here's the thing: At the of the day, I can sing, dance, write and problem-solve circles around your stupid-looking-when-you-idiotically-cut-off-your-really-cute-waves head.

I don't respond to things you say with my usual acerbic hilarity for the SIMPLE reason that I am insane, and it's rather difficult for me to remember that people love me for that reason when I'm around you, because you are boring.

So listen up.

Next time you feel the need to make me feel like an idiot, chew on the fact that at the end of the day, no matter where you go or what you do, I AM SMARTER THAN YOU AND WILL ALWAYS BE.

Savour it, indulge in it and ENJOY, Y-CHROME.

(And yes, I still DO have a crush on you....GET THE CLUE ALREADY!)

Professor Matmat On Picking Your Battles

2007-06-02T19:08:00.000+10:00

I'm rarely judgemental, because, well, I'm an awesome person, but people who often say things like, "if u hurt my fren i'll fukn beat u up" seriously need to grow up. Now, I love my friends with all I have, but the fact of the matter is, they're not perfect individuals. We often say stupid things we don't mean and exaggerate in fits of righteous indignation. We've all bitched to blue heaven about people who've hurt us in some way only to discover later that a) it wasn't that bad or b) it technically was your fault. For this reason, I think it's foolish to burn a bridge with someone just because of a friends' (real or imagined) slight. I love my friends for MY reasons, not yours. Simiarly, I dislike the people I do for my own reasons. There are people who don't like me, and I'd be friendless if my friends listened to that. I therefore owe other people the same courtesy.

I'm being slightly bitchy here, but think about it. I've talked to so many people who only dislike someone because a friend does. Really, now? That can happen in kindy. In the second grade. In the fourth grade. By the 8th grade, it's tolerable but you're expected to get over it. In the 12th grade, who are you kidding? We're mature enough as individuals to not put people in boxes: nerds, losers, skanks, idiots, blacks, whites, Indians, goths, metalheads. Why then are we so willing to put people in boxes like "person who called Sarah a loser", "person who doesn't like Chelsea", "person who dated the guy that Mala broke up with"?

In addition to that, I believe firmly in fighting your own battles, because you learn from them. I also think it's unfair to gang up on a person until you know his or her side of it. I think that people who hide behind their tougher friends don't learn to stand up for themselves. If you really don't think you can handle things, by all means, seek support and comfort. But if it's just a case of a slight of sorts?

Grow some balls, talk it out, and if you can't, walk away.

Conductor Wannabe

2007-05-26T17:35:00.000+10:00

I just conducted an orchestra.

No really, an ACTUAL orchestra with actual adult professional musicians.

It was for our choir mistress, because she's normally the conductor, and today she was feeling really sick, so asked me to stand in for her to conduct two ACTUAL concert orchestral pieces.

It was harrowing, and I KINDA messed the first piece up. I maintain it was HARD with the time signature change and then changing back again, but none of them were nasty to me nor did they actually SAY anything, in fact some of them even congratuated me on the mediocre conducting :D

Now, you know what? Under normal circumstances, I'd be DISTRAUGHT and in a shame spiral at this point in time. I HATE being mediocre and just generally not being above-average good at things.

But let's face it, I'm NOT a professional conductor and never will be. I am, in fact, a 17 year old girl who's only ever conducted a small school choir before. See, I've ALWAYS been used to thinking things like this, but they've never actually sunk in until today. I AM a little disappointed, but I'm just saying that, not feeling it.

I think I'm finally starting to properly ACCEPT the fact that I CAN'T do everything and that I don't need to....I just need to quietly shine in my OWN corner at things I KNOW and love, and people aren't judging me. I'm staring to trust that people have their OWN lives, their own problems, and that I should be grateful that my BIGGEST problem is that I'll never become a professional music conductor.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm actually REALLY starting to accept and love this new Sana with a slightly less inflated head :) And it feels REALLY good!!!!

(Thanks, Steph :))

Funless

2007-05-25T18:47:00.000+10:00

Ok, yes, I'm using the D word again.

Do you know WHY I haven't been blogging as much lately?

I am really scared that somehow, things just don't inspire me anymore. I don't write poetry or stories or those mean little articles, I don't blog, I don't craft, I don't, basically, do ANYTHING that I used to love with a passion.

I'd LOVE to think I've just adapted to fit my study skedders.....but even THAT'S not working now.

I feel lazy and pointless, and like everything I do is either stupid or wrong. I wanted to start 17 on an awesome note. Instead I possibly alienated an awesome teacher, am behind on English, can't seem to study properly for the life altering exams in 5 months, am messing up a subject I love with a passion, can't make myself sound smart or funny around the guy I like, am trying to eat healthier but it's NOT quite working, have ALREADY gotten into a couple of fights with my parents that while I'm not proud of, can justify completely....

In short, I feel like I've retreated into myself ENTIRELY. Here's a list of things I used to do for fun....oh, say, 2 years ago.

Read.
Write poetry, stories and articles.
Collect coins, miniature tea sets and miniature teddy bears.
Organize my Box.
Organize my jewellery.
Make miniature books.
Play the piano.

Now I can't do ANY of those without feeling guilty that I'm not studying....and even still, I can't bring myself to study.

In theory, that's COMPLETE bullshit.

You can't just NOT STUDY, that's called being a lazy dimwit.

But here's the thing: I used to actually enjoy this stuff: studying, learning, the feeling that I was doing something productive and writing out my lists and notes and all the other lovely little things that used to make me feel clever.

Now I just don't. I blogged earlier about how there was a really super smart guy in my class.

Teo was smart, kids. I never felt that stupid around HIM, because I was so completely wrapped up in my own head that NO one could make me feel stupid or unfunny or like my opinions didn't matter. I was basically the same person....just a little less jaded and a little more confident.

Perhaps this is a good thing? I dunno...lots of stuff has happened in the last little while that have completely debased me and shaken my foundations completely....and I feel somewhat disoriented. I had an awesome birthday and so many people were so lovely about it....and yet I feel....empty.

Funless.

I feel like the FUN VACUUM!!! I've never been the FUN VACUUM before!!! Gah, SNAP out of it...!!!!!

How, my children though, do you snap out of something when you're not quite sure what it is?

Happy Birthday, You Matmat You!!

2007-05-18T18:40:00.000+10:00

Well, tomorrow, anyway!

But this is OFFICIALLY my last post as a 16 year old.

Tomorrow, I, Banana Matmat will be 17.

And it's been a weird year....there's some ENORMOUS personal crises that I went through that I can't say YET have "shaped" me. That would sound too cliche, and it's too soon. I hope in another year, or another five years, or whatever, I'll be able to look upon this year and go, "HAH, MATMAT, YOU LOSER!"......

I've also had some brilliant times this year: times when I had some GENUINE good fun and times when I was proved right. Times when people trusted me and times when I helped them out. Times I asskicked academically and times I was just as happy with lower marks.

In all, 2004, my 14th year of existence, was I think still my FAVOURITE year....

But hey, 16th didn't do so bad either ;) And I have a feeling 17th is about to trump it all: COLLEGE BEETCHES!!!!!

I'm a little scared, but hey, let's face it: it's not every day ya turn 17, is it?

Stoopyd

2007-05-16T05:18:00.000+10:00

I don't particularly like what I'm about to do.

I, Banana Matmat Jesu D am admitting, for the FIRST TIME in.....ever, that someone is actually smarter than me.

And it's NO FUN.

I KNOW how fatheaded this sounds, but the fact is, I'm NOT a dumb kid and where my brain fails me, the fat head it sits in takes over: I feel confident even if there's nothing to be confident about.

BUT YESTERDAY.......I believe I actually experienced a genius.

Ohshutupalready,it'snotthatgreatthathecanmultiplythreedigitnumbersinhishead.

It's SERIOUSLY not!!

Ok, it kinda is, and it was KINDA awesome!!!! While I don't feel BAD losing to this guy anymore, because I think he actually deserves it....

I still felt, at that moment, like the chair I was sitting on had a higher IQ than I did.

C.L.O

2007-05-11T20:30:00.000+10:00

Ok, so there's this kid right, and she FREAKS me out. She's in the choir, and she has this habit of constantly and unabashedly STARING. At me and the other senior girls in the choir. Let me describe her for you. She's a tiny little thing, in year 7, slight and skinny. She's got straight, VERY fine orange hair (it's ACTUALLY orange, not red, not titian, we're talking carrots) and glasses, and she just STARES from behind them. It gets SO unnerving, because even when you TRY to ignore her, you get the feeling she's just....staring. From the corner of your eye, you can SEE her just...STARING! IT'S CREEPY, OK?

Now, recently, we had our school social (dance lah people), and CLO (oh, by the way, that's the uncharitable nickname I bestowed upon her: it stands for Creepy Little Orange) was alone there, while all the other kids were dancing in groups. She was dancing alone and doing all these sorts of ballet poses allllll around the floor by herself, just generally having a good time but looking very slightly very odd.

The next day, while she was walking into Room 23 (two rooms down from the English Room, Room 25), she walked past my classmates who immediately guffawed, because news of Clo's slightly odd dancing had spread.

And I'm not proud of this.

But I laughed right along with them, and a couple of the senior choir girls are in my English class and we laughed about her strange choral behaviour as well. I learnt later on in the day that she was the subject of intense ragging from her own classmates, and her seniors and EVEN right up to us in the Senior Squared section.

It felt wrong even then....but I did it anyway, forgetting my OWN golden rule of NEVER ignoring the underdog.

I beg you now, people who know me, to do a little recollective work. Try to remember another tiny little kid. She had razor straight black hair, talked funny and used to talk to herself, appearing totally schizo. She had huge thick glasses, red and gold in colour, and she walked alone a lot because people made fun of her skin. I especially recollect one time at a certain (horrible) Red Crescent Dance night thing where she did her OWN version of the (in her own head) Sexy Dance and was the object of utter ridicule for an entire week.

Strange. That kid was in Form One as well...probably the exact same age as Clo.

Well, this is her now:

I like to think she looks radiant, happy, normal, and NOT like she's trying too hard to smile naturally. Shut up.

Did anyone know I was actually composing poetry? That I wasn't insane, but actually trying to create something beautiful, and saying it out loud helped me concentrate?

I don't blame you. I WAS a freaky weird ass kid.

But look what's come out of it: I'm a happy, normal, well adjusted teenager who can do all sorts of awesome stuff, I've got wonderful friends who think I'm worth keeping in two different countries, a collective worth of (one week short of) 17 years of experience, and one hell of a head on my shoulders.

In short, I was a Clo too, and I'd love to think I turned out well enough. No, you know what? I turned out DAMN well. And I'm proud of myself, and I'm so very grateful to the people who helped get me there.

Secretly, I am immensely proud of Clo for having the courage and let's face it, craziness, to dance to her own tune. She had such happiness on her face when she was dancing, and I think a lot of people envied it as well. It was probably jealousy on everyones' part that while they were all dancing like skanks JUST IN CASE some guy was watching, this little kid was effortlessly showing them up, just by living in her own world.

Maybe I'm romanticizing again. Maybe she really IS an absolute freakshow.

But SO many people could have come to that conclusion about me, and didn't.

A lot of you know that I credit Izzah with being one of the first people to ACTUALLY be straightforward enough with me to TELL me I was being an ass. I ADORED knowing someone had noticed and someone had cared.

I'm going to be the one that's nice to this kid, simply because...what, five, six years ago?, someone paid me that same courtesy. Maybe I'll even get to thank little Clo for correcting some serious idiotic flaws in my judgement.

Oh, and by the way? Her real name's Bridget. Suits her way better than Creepy Little Orange, anyway.

All That Glitters Is Not Gold.....

2007-05-06T15:47:00.000+10:00

But remember, please, that some of what glitters actually is.

Sometimes, we downplay the value of wonderful, important things, and I think that we only do this because we're scared of investing all our faith in it. Everyone knows that you don't put ALL your faith in one place, that's stupid, of course it is!! But instead, what that mentality has bred is a society who can't trust anything.

It's statements like this that caution responders: don't be too hopeful or too optimistic, make sure you maintain a measure of pessimism JUST so you can say you cut your losses.

But it doesn't work that way, does it? At the end of the day, this whole "healthy dose of cynicism" thing, it's just a cover up. All we really want to DO is trust people, is invest in them, is love them for who they are. I really DO believe that this is what we were meant to DO as humans, and exactly why it still hurts so much to have your heart broken, to have your judgment fail, to have your trust betrayed.

I realize that with this post, I am in essence shatting all over my OWN personality....I'm that chick who studies her ASS off for a test and then says, "Meh, stuff it, I didn't study anyway," when she doesn't do well in it. It's because I hate admitting that I put everything I had into something and it STILL blew up in my face.

But you know what? I'm gonna try and not do that anymore, because I think the happiest people are the ones who KEEP investing and investing and investing and failing and failing and failing. It doesn't BUILD you, because that would be too twee, too trite.

It breaks the hell out of you and then makes you build yourself.

You're Bad For My Health

2007-04-27T06:48:00.000+10:00

I find it so difficult to control my rage around you.....I realize I swear so much more at home than at school. I can deal with peer pressure, that's a breeze for me...

But it's when I'm filled with rage, indignation and just plain injustice that I flip the hell out.

I swear......while I realize full well that you're all wonderful and all, and I've said this before so I won't labour the point.....

But I can't wait til I get away from home.

I can't wait to get away from you.

I love you and I'm sorry.

Just One Question:

2007-04-20T15:42:00.000+10:00

To all my girls out there,

Why exactly do we feel so bad when some greasy guy walks up to a hot friend in a seedy pool place after eying her like a piece of meat?

Is this secretly what we WANT or something?!

Pick Me Up

2007-04-15T19:51:00.000+10:00

I wish she'd just picked him up.

It was cold. I remember that, because I kept checking the window to see that my hair still looked gorgeous, and it kept misting up when I breathed on it. Damn. Should have just grabbed mom's ugly cardigan. But I was OK, I looked quite lovely, I had a Mars bar and a book, and I had five hours on a train to kill.

"I know, and it's so f*ckin annoyin' that they won't even let me get out and have a smoke. Yea, I'm a smoker."

I looked up. The lady behind me was speaking to another passenger, a young mother behind her, and complaining about the fact that smoking wasn't allowed on the train. She would say "f*ck" 26 more times that I would count until I simply grew exhausted. The last ten or so were directed at another passenger, with her declaring, "I am NOT in the f*ckin mood, mate, seriously. Whatever! I am NOT f*ckin joking with you, ya f*ckin bastard!"

A little while before, she'd been on the phone with some guy, her husband I assume. They were talking, and it got really heated: he seemed angry that she couldn't message him or call him or anything.....and she was similarly furious because she COULDN'T send the message: no reception.

Anyway, back to the cheery banter: it continued for about twenty minutes until she angrily got up and took the fight with this guy outside the cabin.

Now, this isn't what makes this experience sad. It's what made it a bit scary to witness, but it wasn't particularly heart rending until I realized who the other passenger was.

Not her husband, not some jackass, not some pervert, but her son. Her six month old baby son.

This is where I got angry. For one, FEMALE, he's not your "mate". He's your SON, goddamnit, your SON. My parents wouldn't let me say the word "hate" till I was like, 8. And here you are, you stupid irresponsible woman, saying WHAT?

I was seriously angry!!! That poor kid's only crime, for which he was abused thus, was to cry, i.e. do what approximately 99.8% of babies DO. The other 0.2% are MUTE.

She came back in, and I was still rather fumingly reading my book. This was when I looked up. She yelled at the kid again, swore and pretended to ignore him....and that's when I saw it, saw her expression.

It was a look of such self defeat and desperation that any judgements I'd been making ground to a halt. She looked thoroughly exhausted, and as if she was simply too tired to flip the world the bird anymore.

I don't know....maybe her husband's a controlling jerk and she can't say anything. I noticed she barely said the F word while on the phone with him....perhaps she's just taking her anger out on the one person she CAN control. It's not a justification as much as an explanation.

Or maybe she didn't want this kid, but for his sake has decided to raise him. Maybe it had been hell at work that day. Maybe she fought with her mother in law. Maybe she's trying to QUIT smoking and is having such a hard time. Maybe she's just a horrible mother. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

No matter what, I had absolutely no right to judge her, and even worse, no right to compare her to my own parents. They're not the same people. Her little boy could end up a convict, he could end up an astrophysicist, who's to know? Sure as hell, not me.

All the same, though, I have to say....

I wish she'd picked him up.

Because I Am

2007-04-06T06:16:00.000+10:00

I am a CHILD:

- I want attention: yours.
- I want praise for things that don't deserve it.
- I can be a bitch or a jerk, but give me some time: it's very likely I'll grow out of it.
- Mud is more fun than dolls.
- Dolls are more fun than homework.
- Homework is more fun than church.
- Church is more fun than....um....
- Don't psychoanalyze my actions: maybe I pushed the fat kid just because everyone else was. It's NOT because I have a low self esteem, it's NOT because I am lashing out for lack of love, it IS because I am too young to understand the concept of consequence.
- And yes, we ALL push the fat kid or the dumb kid or the immigrant kid: again, we don't think.
- And no, I don't believe I've scarred the fat kid for life. Don't tell me I have, because I won't sleep again.
- The kids who make it out of playschool, preschool and primary school are the ones who stood up for themselves on the playground, NOT the ones who were patient and "ignored" us.
- I think everything I do is worth your time and energy. Let me believe this for a while.
- If I have a crush on you, I won't admit it. This is because I think I'm in love.

I am a TEENAGER:

- Everything I do is right, and don't tell me otherwise.
- I want your trust even if I don't deserve it.
- Don't expect things, because it hurts so much when I let you down.
- I WILL listen to bad music if everyone else is.
- I WILL listen to bad music if everyone else ISN'T, just to prove how totally unique my mad music listening skills are.
- I'm often doing something totally innocent when you think I'm doing something wrong.
- I'm often doing something wrong when you think I'm doing something totally innocent.
- I bitch about you to everyone, but I'm still nice to you.
- I know YOU bitch about ME to everyone, but I'm still nice to you.
- If I have a crush on you, I WILL call it love. I will tell everyone I knew it WASN'T actually love, but this is only half true: I was secretly hoping.
- I am terrified of ending up alone.
- I don't know why I'm nice to the popular kids. If I AM a popular kid, I don't know why I'm not nice to the rejects.
- If I AM nice to the rejects, don't worry about me: I am a genuinely good human being and I will stay that way.
- I wish I was older, all the time.

I am an ADULT:

- I wish I was younger, all the time.
- I try so hard to live vicariously through you. I'll tell you it's because I care. The truth is, I'm trying to prove myself right.
- I hate it when I let you down, because I don't want you to think any less of me till you actually have to.
- You frustrate me SO much more than I let on.
- Experience DOES count.
- I want you to listen to me for one reason: your own kids will NEVER respect you if you did things you won't let THEM do. I'm willing to sacrifice YOUR respect for me for your sake.
- I am passive aggressive and I WILL stoop very low: you just can't see it because you're shorter than me.
- I am so very proud of your achievements, and I want you to know that, every day.
- I don't tell you I love you every time I feel it, because you'll think I'm mushy and dependent.
- I am mushy and dependent, and when you leave the house, I will wander around feeling completely purposeless.
- I make just as many mistakes as you do, but we're BOTH selfish and wrapped up in our own problems.....I can see yours because I've had them before, but you'll have to wait a bit to see mine.
- When I say sorry, what I mean is, "I've failed you, but please let me prove that I can actually be there for you."

Perspective

2007-03-28T16:32:00.000+10:00

How big a problem looks to you depends on your perspective.

I just had two people I know, dealing with the EXACT same problem, just with slightly different features and trimmings....

Who responded to it in two completely different ways.

So, X:

Thank you for that....I am so proud of you, and the fact that you've taken yourself into such stride. You're looking after yourself and your OWN interests and while you'd never let anyone DOWN, you're NOT letting yourself get walked on anymore.

You're standing up and fighting for what you want, and when you decide something's bad for you, you cut it loose and move on. I'm so thankful to have someone like you, someone who changed a lot, but you kicked that change right in the ass and BECAME the change: you dictated the terms.

And Y:

I'm not disappointed in you, and the fact that you thought I WOULD be almost hurts. I wish I didn't have to find out from someone else....the knowledge of you trying to deal with this all on your own...while I'd be THRILLED if I thought you were genuinely trying to work out your own problems....just remember that I'd never judge you and I never have.

I don't know if I coulda actually help you out of this....but you've ALSO taught me a great deal about change....that letting people, or places, or situations mould you and your mind and your intentions can completely remove control from your hands.

I love you both so much, and I'm so glad to have you both in my life.

Masks II

2007-03-18T13:38:00.000+11:00

She couldn't believe it. She'd started throwing up blood again, and it was THEN that she realized that she probably wasn't going to get better this time. How would she tell the kids? How would she tell their father? No...no...no...she had to be strong for them. She'd tell them sometime...just not now, it was her youngest's big recital today.....

.....and then she walked out the door, and put on her mask. "Sweetie, come ON! I've got your costume, now get in the CAR, the others are waiting!!!"

He stuck his legs out and pulled his hat down. He did NOT want her to know he was there, but damn it, somehow, she ALWAYS managed to find him. He wondered how long it would take for her to get the message. He knew what a goddamn coward he was being by trying to force her to hate him like this, but what could he do? He'd loved her at first, but TWO YEARS of this? She'd deceived him completely and then gone on suicide rampages, threatening to kill herself every time he broached the breakup. Neither of them was happy, at ALL....

.....and then she got on the bus, and he put on his mask. "Hey, honey, how was your day? I'm sorry, my back hurts today and so I really don't want to move it...could you maybe sit at the back, instead? And oh, I'm so sorry, I can't make it tonight either...something came up."

She was exhilarated. She knew she couldn't ever get in now, even if they bribed: thank GOD for this university's honest reputation. She wished she didn't have to resort to this....them and their ridiclously high expectations. Goddamnit, she didn't even WANT this course!!!!! But NO, apparently what she wanted to do didn't matter, did it? But now they'd be FORCED to listen to her.

.....and then she picked up the phone, and put on her mask. "Mom! The interview was wonderful. I answered all their questions off bat...no problems! I should, god willing, have NO problems getting in, at all!! I know...yeah?..Yeah!...Thanks for everything, mom."

He raised his hand. What a mechanical gesture this had become. He realized that he was, in effect, spitting all over a sacred process, something he used to do freely with full feeling. He used to love being in this church....love being a part of God, a part of something bigger than us all. But since...since the incident....he could NOT believe in this God anymore. He was bitter and enraged that a god who claimed to LOVE his people could let...could let something like that happen...she was only 9, for god's sake!!! He couldn't tell anyone HERE how he felt....sanctimonious fakes, all of them. And now HE'D become one.

.....and then the bridge of the song played, and he put on his mask. "Lord, I give you my heart, YES LORD.....because you are all I need."

Fly Ninja!!!

2007-03-11T05:54:00.000+11:00

She grasped the handle of the coffee mug firmly.

She was GOING IN.

Slowly, she crept off her perch and made her way ever so slowly, in fluffy-footed slippers, to the kitchen.

Almost as soon as her foot hit enemy territory, she knew it was all over.

ABORT, ABORT, ABORT!!

It was then that a light seemed to go on in her head. EVERYTHING was happening in slow motion. The seconds ticked by as she dove INTO the monstrous, carnivorous cloud and reached for the can......

And reaching HIGH INTO THE AIR, she sprayed her final moments.......

*WHIIIIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

As she felt the energy drain from her body, she realized slowly that the cloud was dissipating, dissipating, dissipating.......

(ever notice how when you say that word more than twice, it stops sounding like a real word?)

She'd won!!!!!! She'd won!! Oh yes, oh yes!!!

Aaaaaaaand then she realized that she was standing there like an idiot breathing in toxic deadly fumes from the bug killer, so she grabbed the first thing she could find: a slightly fugly shirt her mom wore to work earlier.

Mm, J'Adore! I LOVE mommy!!!!!

And then, she realized her fatal error: her study room.

Bounding like an agile antelope (ok, a slightly overweight agile antelope), she covered the few yards in...shut up. It wasn't THAT long.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!

HER MATHS! HER PRECIOUS MATHS! SHE COULD NEVER TOUCH IT AGAIN!!!!!!!!!

FLIES!!! ON HER BOOKS! ON HER WORK!! ON EXERCISE 5E!!!!!!!!!

This time, though, she was ready for them: She grabbed the fly killer still in her hand and depressed the nozzle ONE FINAL TIME.......

*WHIIIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

And she stood watching, giggling maniacally as the flies dropped, one by one, and left was she, the LAST ONE STANDING.

For flies, there were many....

But there would EVER only be ONE.......

FLY NINJA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This Could Be You......

2007-03-10T09:12:00.000+11:00

Ok, you fool, listen up!!!! THIS COULD BE YOU:

Dear Sana,

Hey, your younger self called and told me you needed some guidance, so here I am. Listen to me, OK? No matter WHAT you decide now, you WILL become a doctor, but ONLY if you want it enough. Apparently, you did, because here I am! And let me tell you, it's NOT as glamourous as it looks.

Addison Montgomery-Shepard is NO indication of what real doctors look like. The so-called Hot Fro? IT'S THINNING. You're doing your usual "I'M FAT, I'M FAT!" thing, but you don't have time to care: you've got 1 miniYou already! I know, 1 miniYou in 10 years, NOT that impressive, but considering you only got married two and a half years ago (And NO, he WASN'T off Shaadi.com), you're not doin' that badly (considering the current bun in the oven and all) ;)

I love what I'm doing though, and it's brought the ENTIRE family so much closer, hasn't it? I mean, mom and dad and Shama and Deepa would love and accept you no matter WHAT you did, but the fact that you WANTED Med and GOT Med filled them with such pride....and now you can discuss your cases with all of them!

Now, remember this: I NEVER looked back on any decision you made. You MADE a decision, and I stuck by it and wore it with PRIDE.

And speaking of which, I just passed my latest board exams :) Thanks so much for not dropping the ball, Sana, because right now? I'm exactly where I want to be, and I couldn't be happier if I tried.

OR THIS COULD BE YOU:

Hey, kid!

So here's the deal, apparently you want to know what to do now? Whatever you do, DON'T repeat what you did with me. I know, I know, freaking out, immersing yourself in self-doubt and letting it eat at you is TYPICALLY something we'd do.....but I'm here to tell you not to.

No matter how wonderful Chem Eng is and how much I love it now, I can't help but wonder, you know. You never really wanted to be a Chemical Engineer, did you? No....you had such dreams in your heart with your Med career.

I will never forget that look in your eyes when you found you missed it by like, a point.

We know, it was ridiculously unfair, but did you ever wonder WHY you missed it? AND NO, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, NO. It WASN'T because you messed up that Physics task, it WASN'T because you dropped Eco and not Math 4, and it WASN'T because you weren't good enough!!!

It's because you did EXACTLY what Mr. Varela (your Maths teacher, idiot, did you REALLY think I'd forget?) told you not to do: You wondered. You forgot to trust yourself. You dropped the ball.

You did. And I'm not blaming you, I'm happy. I've got the wonderful hubby, I've got the wonderful kids....but let's face facts here, whenever Shama and Deepa come over and talk about their wonderful patients....

I still wonder what would have happened if you'd just kept your head.

Now, you know what? You don't HAVE to be a doctor, Sana. You don't, not if that's not what you want. But at this point in your life, it is.

Don't drop the ball. MAKE the damn decision and no matter what, the consequences are of your making, so your control freak nature is satisfied either way. If at the end of the day you don't get Med, it was because God didn't will it. NOT because you got a stupid single bad mark in a stupid single bad test. And for God's sake, talk to God about it. He REALLY does miss hearing from you, you know....and you've tried everything else. Has it worked?

Well, has it?

Everytime you start wondering whether you made the right decision and start to do that thing you ALWAYS do and freak the hell out and make yourself sick and be a loserific whineface and give up and NOT STUDY....

I want you to read this and remember that you made the right decision. Do you know why?

Because YOU made it.

Mars, Listen The Hell Up

2007-03-05T21:28:00.000+11:00

Dear Testosterone Wielding, Emotionally Retarded, Sensitivity Zero But Can't Figure Out Why All The Girls Are Pissed At Him Guy,

This is to all of you, because, let's face it. No matter how wonderful or decent or sweet you are, you ALL follow the same damn prototype: you WILL ferry back and forth between prospectives without realizing the effect you have on them, you WILL keep returning to the scene of the crime and keep TALKING about it when all we want to do is heal, you WILL keep asking what's wrong and if we're mad when clearly, we are, and you WILL keep thinking that we're PMSy bitchfaces for BEING angry at you for your hideous mixed signals and misinterpretations.

Well, no more.

I'm not PMSy, boy, do you know what my problem is? It's YOU. It's the fact that I KNOW what a great guy you are, but for some reason, you can't seem to get one thing: we ARE wired differently from you. Now, you could throw that right back in our faces and say, "WELL, YOU could make the effort to understand US better, now couldn't you?". You know why you can't? Because when you're a girl, it starts being real immediately. Not when you say you "love" us, not when you say "it's for real now", not when YOU say bloody anything. It becomes real for us the SECOND we know each other's basest intentions, and here's why: we actually WANT commitment. We know how many of you are commitment phobes, that's why we specially created Skanks for you.

But here's the thing: most of us aren't like that. Please don't assume that if you've been hurt by ONE of us, you'll be hurt by all of us, because that's just plain stupidity. Drop the act, we KNOW you're not Sensitive and New Age. We KNOW you're honest to GOD just manbitching for the sake of it, because again, being guys, you bounce back a LOT faster than we do. Don't use one bad experience as an excuse to hate or mistreat or hurt us all, because that's just you being a jackass.

And as for the mixed signals? No! No! No! Just DON'T! If you're confused yourself, treat us NORMALLY or don't TALK to us at all!!! Learn to LIE a little or cover up your confusion! Honesty isn't ALWAYS the best policy, because no girl likes being told that she's been thought about, processed and found wanting, and then JUST as she's trying to get over it, being told that he's thinking it over AGAIN and *may* change his mind. YOUR confusion adds to OUR confusion and just ends up being this huge mass of uncertainty, and NO one likes that. Being rejected is fine! Being told we're not the right one is fine! BEING LEFT IN THE LURCH? THAT sucks. THAT we can't get over. THAT we can't stomach because you're NOT letting us move on!

Get it straight, we HAVE to coexist and we CAN make this happy, fun, enjoyable and meaningful for BOTH of us. But you have to realize one thing: We're the child bearers, we're the monthly bleeders, we're the kid raisers, and in more than 50 per cent of households, we're at least semi-bread winners. Clearly, we're NOT as sensitive and wussfaced as "BEING A GIRL" connotes.

So is it REALLY asking all that much to be a little CLEAR with what you ACTUALLY WANT?

Authors' Note: Author writes this post on behalf of a close friend, and on behalf of any girl who's been left wondering. Author ALSO has lots of wonderful guy friends, some of whom have been GENUINELY hurt as well. This post is an angry generalization because I seem to be seeing a LOT of this now. And Fool, here's that post you always wanted :) I didn't mention your name, but if I wrote TWO POSTS on ONE DAY, you KNOW you've gotta be special ;)

Bah, Aku Join!!

2007-03-05T16:28:00.000+11:00

Ok, Ches, you're on!!!! So here we go, here are the RULES!!

"Those who get tagged must post 6 weird things about themselves in their blog and state the rules clearly. At the end of the post, you must choose 6 other people to tag."

And if ANY of you tears out your hair or has to scrub your brains, it's SO not my fault.

1) I have this irrational fear of wet floors. Even if it's just been washed, I will STILL not walk on it because I think it's squicky and disgusting. I used to play a game with myself as a kid, and jump from bathmat to bathmat in the bathroom because I COULDN'T step on the floor.

2) I tend to speak really loudly around people who've never met me because I am paranoid that they'll think I have an Indian accent. I love being Indian, but even I mock our accent :D I speak extra loud and often am at my FUNNIEST so they can see that I'm a crisply Canadian accented comic genius, and not a mockable country hick.

3) I rock back and forth and side to side on chairs. I have this inability to sit still in class, and particularly when I'm paying close attention, I rock or I rotate. I think it's some weird nervous habit.

4) If chocolate has more than one layer, I will ALWAYS eat it layer by layer. Ferreros, Kitkats, Rafaellos, they ALL get eaten one layer at a time. First, I bite off the hazelnut chocolatey layer, then I eat that crispy wafery thing, then lastly the ball of soft chocolate. Same thing applies for Kitkats. I also don't understand how people can just bite through the whole thing.

5) I used to go up to people I didn't know and tell them I liked cheese. Or pie. Or their noses. God, I was a freak.

6) I have this constant fear that my kids will be dumb. I'm KNOW that's a horrible thing to say. I don't know if I could handle it if they were mediocre at school or didn't love books.

Ok, now aside from that LAST one which was genuinely almost sad, the rest are entirely light hearted :D

All are true, so how about Lyn, Josh, Jana, Izzah, Fel and Nikki give it a try??

It's Official: Sorry, Mr. Clarke!!

2007-02-28T23:06:00.000+11:00

I'm dropping Economics.

Which is SUCH a ruddy depressing scenario! Because it means, 1) I COULDN'T deal with the extra subject I marched into with faith, 2) I NOW have to be a pariah and my alREADY female-drained eco class is now ANOTHER girl short, 3) I'm staying with a subject I've begun to hate because it's easy, 4) I now see The Crush Boy once less and 5) Now Daz Herrero WILL be first in it, and if someone does beat him, it won't be me.

But you know what? Despite reasons to be less than thrilled with my decision, this means I can start working HARDER, pumping in more hours into the other subjects. I love school, and let's face it: I only love Economics for Mr. Clarke because he's the ONLY teacher on par with Mrs. Han (as we all know by now, my golden standard).

Sigh...I'm so sorry, Signor Clarke, you're SO frickin awesome. But let's face it: Not even Queen Sana, The Great, can do everything. I do need to read a book, I do need to sit in my massage chair, I do need to watch some TV. And with your extra subject, despite the fact that you turned a drywall subject into something I actually enjoy, I just can't do it. I WANT to get into Medicine. And I'd rather be the Eco Quitting Doctor Girl than the 14 Unit Chick Doing Something She SETTLED For.

Which reminds me, Ms-Chemistry-Teacher-Who-Might-As-Well-Not-Be-There, don't give yourself airs, the ONLY reason I'm staying with you is (because you hugged me when I topped your class and you're a NICE person!) because Mr. Clarke's Bruneian counterpoint already TAUGHT me this stuff!! Khuh!!!

Those Were The Best Days Of Our Lives.....

2007-02-26T19:40:00.000+11:00

None of us is actually happy, you know.

We tell you when we call you and email you and message you that ALL IS GOOD, that EVERYTHING'S FINE, that we're THRILLED and COPING and and and.....

And everything that a normal, mature, responsible, intelligent home-leaver is supposed to be: happy, dealing with it, moving on.

But here's what's happening instead.

India has ruined, perhaps forever, my best friend's spirit and I'm TERRIFIED she's not going be the same, ever again. I have this horrible feeling that the girl who's picture is on my folder (us "fighting" over Jollibee, her Model shot, her looking slightly doped while Parki hugs her looking sinister)....that she's gone. That she's.....gone.

Sarah appears to hate the Phils, and from what I hear, it's not treating her so good. She's become hyper competitive, which is a good thing I guess, but it's also worrying her sick now, about what people will think of her if she fails, what people will say if she doesn't nail everything every time. The Phils has changed my sweet, sensitive girl. She has this new streak of competitiveness and drive that's making her push herself ridiculously hard and get so very disappointed those times it doesn't work.

Jas is doing her thing, and seems sort of happy, but she's not. Let's just say I know why, because I know HER, and especially in light of recent events, I wouldn't say she's particularly thrilled to be there either.

Teo? Josh? Parki? Divs?

Why are we all so unhappy, lost, alone, homesick?

Brunei really WAS the best time of my life.....it was a time of definite trials. But it was a time of character building and such deep friendships and love and laughter and camaraderie and disputes and debates and most of all, a sense that you REALLY do belong somewhere.

I love being here, I really do....but let's face it: we're all a bunch of sheltered, home-loving kids who were unleashed upon a world we can't begin to fathom....a world that scares the living sh*t out of us and I don't think any of us knows how to deal with it.

As for me? Hah.

Has ANY of you, from PERSONAL experience, ever seen me worry, REALLY worry about not reaching my goals? Wasn't I the one who always, always seemed to be filled with fresh hope and inspiration and promise? I bitched, whined and backlashed about ALL subjects and ALL school, but I never actually BELIEVED that I couldn't do it. Wasn't that me?! I don't recognize parts of this new girl....I remember a girl called Queen Sana with her band of merry followers, friends, family and folk.....she lived in a place called Brunei and I think she left her heart there.

This new girl? She's mostly the same, and she's PROUD of not changing much....but she's started to be FILLED with so much self doubt that she doesn't know how to deal anymore.

I don't know how to deal anymore. I feel completely stupid, useless, untalented, and like the biggest waste of potential to walk the earth. SOMEWHERE, SOMEWHERE deep in the crevasses of my BRAIN sounds loud bells, full of pomp and circumstance, that chime "SHUT UP AND SNAP OUT OF THIS, HO! You are SMARTER than Tyler, you are SMARTER than Nick, you are SMARTER than Jarrod, and even if you're NOT (Which you know you ARE, ho!), FAKE IT! BELIEVE IT AND IT WILL BE SO!!!!"

I used to believe in EVERYTHING, and so nothing seemed out of reach. Now I can't even bring myself to believe in me.

I miss her....I miss her so much. I wonder if this is a natural next step and if this bit has just been a hard turn for me and it'll all be OK...

But who am I kidding? The fact of the matter is, I'm completely and utterly lost and I don't know where to find me.

Achi

2007-02-22T20:32:00.000+11:00

1997

A seven year old sits on the floor, staring up wide-eyed at the short, sturdy matriarch. She opens her mouth obediently and, inexpertly and inelegantly, accepts the rice with a bit of meat in the centre that the old lady has rolled into a ball.

She was really, really tired from school, and she'd fallen over in the playground. Her knee had a bruise on it and it hurt, real bad. But somehow, getting fed the rice, yoghurt and that special bit of meat in the centre, calmed her.

Her grandma finished the meal as she always did: by scooping the last of the now curry-flavoured yoghurt, her favourite part and skimming her fingers on the side of the plate. In a final move, she would run two fingers along the side of the plate and drop the yoghurt into her grandchild's mouth. Then, she'd say, "Thank god!"

As she watched the great wrinkly face, she knew this ritual would last forever.

2007

An almost 17-year old sits on the floor, staring up wide-eyed at the short, sturdy matriarch, who's height she's managed to surpass, finally, after 10 years. She opens her mouth obediently, this time a seasoned pro at deftly catching and chewing the bolus (a word she knows, now), still with the surprisingly tender bit of beef in the centre, like a present wrapped in curd rice.

She was really, really tired from school, and she'd just gotten braces. They really hurt, and her mouth was tender and sore from where the metal had bruised and cut. But somehow, getting fed the rice, yoghurt and that special bit of meat in the centre, calmed her.

The special time ended the same way it always did, with the little old lady, now 83, scooping up the yoghurt and feeding it to the child, only the child was a child no longer. And with a great huff, she got up off the bed and said, "Thank God!"

And as she looked up at the great wrinkly face, she knew this ritual would last forever.

I love you, Achi.

Fat Girl With Soul

2007-02-17T17:06:00.000+11:00

Ok, so that's just a headline.

You know what? For the last, at least 5, most likely 7 years, I've been obsessed with my weight. Obsessed with calories and counting and weight loss and exercise.

Well, recently, I did the whole LOVE YOURSELF AND FREE YOURSELF thing. ANYONE who's known me for more than 6 minutes knows how much I used to hate my weight at one point, with diets and gyms and everything. But you know what I'm realizing NOW?

That being SO proud of being NORMAL now has possibly stolen my conscience. Much as I HATED being freakchild-who-hates-her-mirror-image, I'm not thrilled with this new me either: I'm HAPPIER about my image and I really do believe that I can DO this, and I'm thrilled that I've so called "Freed" myself....but I've begun to slide.

And so, for the benefit of me and every other female who has at one point disliked her body, I will say this now: I WILL NOT BECOME THAT GIRL. I will NOT become that fat girl who goes, "Oh, I'm only a kilo heavier than I was last month, which is only 3 kilos heavier than I was the month before, which is only 5 kilos heavier than what I was six months ago." Because NOBODY wants to be that girl. No matter HOW much we talk of loving ourselves....

NOTHING justifies a lack of conscience!!! Not prior unhealthy habits, not emotional issues, nothing.

So here I print in black and white, I'm going to lose these extra kilos the HEALTHY way, but I'm CERTAINLY not going to make allowances for myself. I can't afford to, because what people NEED is a combination of the two extremes: the SELF-LOVE to not resort to throwing up your food or starving yourself, and the DISCIPLINE of an anorexic.

And AMEN to that, I hereby dub thee Fat Girl With Soul!!!!!

Fragrance

2007-02-11T21:28:00.000+11:00

The other day, I made a rather uncharitable comment about someone I know while discussing love (yet again) with my sister.

"She's SO needy it's not even funny. It's like, someone will sniff the air and go, "Hey, do you smell Desperate?" "Yeah, X must have walked in.""

Yes, yes I KNOW, IT WAS HORRIBLE. But don't worry, Karma's bitten me in the ass in the form of the stupid pain from the stupid surgery.

But while polishing me bitchskills, I realized something vastly important: We ALL reek of desperation.Of all of us in Singledom, most of us aren't thrilled about it and whether you want to admit it or not, you are ALWAYS on the lookout, always wary, always watching, for The One. It's how we disguise it that makes us what we are.

See, some people cover their desperation by spraying on something called Confidence. It may not come in a wonderfully colourful or pretty bottle, but my GOD. When you open that bottle, the scent is intoxicating: it smells of big smiles and sunshine, chocolate and swagger, happiness and charisma. But here's the catch: it doesn't last too long. At the end of the day, many users still go home and wonder. Pine. Long. Build castles in the sky. In addition, when that special guy gets too close, he finds himself overpowered. That's the shortcoming of this scent: it's effervescent and just what you need, but it's just too strong, dare you get too close.

Another brand of people use another of my personal favourites: Angst. Like her twin scent Confidence, Angst is very popular. It smells quite similar to Confidence as well, but with undertones of bitterness. Users exude peppery personae, confident and seemingly happy, but pride themselves on how bitchy they can be. Unbeknownst to the majority of people, Angst only smells so good because she's seemingly untouchable. Users are often surrounded by potential suitors, many of them lovesick, but again, the problem arises when they get too close. The bitterness and underlying unhappiness of the perfume eventually eats its way through the relationship, deeming it unstable.

A different scent altogether is Indifference. What's so interesting about this scent is, it appears to have no fragrance at all. Indeed, Indifference's only job seems to be to mask the desperation. It is completely neutral, and users, for some reason, feel a decided drop in temperature. And it's not just them! People around them often describe this delightfully deceptive scent as "icy", "cool", "cold-shouldered". Users, however, can be wonderful people: they can have friends they care deeply about. In fact, only members of the opposite sex appear to smell Indifference on them....their own friends find them warm and loving.

Finally, a last common one: Loathing. People who use this scent often find it works wonderfully as a repellant. It smells quite awful: of anger and hatred and self-destruction, but it applies to everyone. People who opt for this fragrance often find themselves with very few friends. A recent survery conducted among users showed that many of them had been hurt very badly in the past, and simply decided never again. What IS interesting though, is that people who DO adopt this scent pull it off perfectly for a few years...but then they actually stop needing it. It's almost as if the perfume becomes second nature to them, and their own bodies can fake that self-hatred.

What's your scent?

So, Here's The Deal.....

2007-02-04T12:33:00.000+11:00

1) I look like a mixture of Hanuman, a camel, and the long lost link between man and ape because the surgical scar hasn't healed yet,

2) I'm enormously behind on English homework,

3) I'm accepting that Daz IS smarter than me,

4) Rachel's leaving really soon,

5) I might have scared off a good friend by telling her all that was wrong with me,

6) I realize that everything I TOLD her was in fact true, and that I CAN in fact be an awful person,

7) I'm not actually following my study sked, and I'm telling myself it's because Rachel's here, but I'm ACTUALLY scared that I'm just lazy and this isn't going to work for me,

8) Aforementioned surgical stitches might be bleeding and I'm TERRIFIED I might have broken one,

But ya know what?

I'm happier than I've EVER been!!!!! I don't know what this is, but I'm suddenly enveloped with an enormous sense of contentment and, aw hell, PEACE!!!!!

I don't even know WHY I've been so deprezzled-like for the last little while! Maybe it took me awhile to adjust to leaving Brunei, maybe I was scared of non-acceptance, maybe I was scared of losing myself, but whatever it was, it's all...done! Gone! Finished!!!

And thank the Lord, NOW I can go back and be this person again:

(From what Stephen Chin wrote on my camp folder two and a half years ago,)

"I love the joy that you got!"

Yes, Stephen, you did. And you know what? I think I do too!!!!!

Standing On The Box

2007-01-30T20:40:00.000+11:00

I'm not INEXPERIENCED.

I'm just VERY mature, AND happen to REALIZE that STUPID EXPERIENCES that serve ABSOLUTELY NO PURPOSE and can honestly WAIT til I'm OLD ENOUGH, and not a 12 year old trying on my mommy's LIPSTICK, to experience them PROPERLY.

What did you say?

WHAT did you say??

"Don't say you can match those experiences, because you have no idea what I've felt!"

With some profanity in there somewhere, right? Yeah, I remember it like that, too. So much for helping you. You know what, brother? I may not "know" about things that you call physical experience....

But you have ABSOLUTELY no effing clue how I feel, either. Your emotions are so goddamn GENERIC and COOKIE CUTTER. OOoh, my girlfriend dumped me after she kissed me so I'm totally gonna go die and that OTHER girl that I like NOW tells me she can't love me because she likes this other guy who's SIMILARLY trapped in his OWN love triangle and EVERYONE HATES ME AND I SHOULD JUST GO KILL MYSELF!

Pah.

Wanna know what I think about, jackass??

I worry about my FUTURE, my EDUCATION, my PROSPECTS, things that MATTER. Things that CAN'T wait til this year is over. I'm still going to get married and depurify myself (I really couldn't print the more common term for this....it still makes me uncomfy), and have kids and a life and a career.

SO DON'T YOU EFFING TREAT ME LIKE I'M SOME GODDAMN CHILD STANDING ON A BOX PRETENDING TO KNOW EVERYTHING.

Because I NEVER claim to, and I've ALWAYS given you the "Ok, if you want me to not be blunt, please tell me, because it's all I know how to be", just like I tell EVERYONE else I talk to (Which, by the way, is a surPRISINGLY high number of people, I'll have your ass know!)

If YOU don't value that in me, go find someone who'll blow sunshine up your ass, because I WON'T.

I'm actually not this angry anymore, because I've done the whole shrinkanalystic thing I love so much and realized that our problems ALWAYS seem so big to us. I wanna beat some guy in my class, and right now I'm depressed because I can't. I know your problems seem really big right now, but I stick by what I told you: take time to heal yourself, because if ALL your happiness rests in someone ELSE'S frail hands....

How can you ever be happy?

But the REAL reason I'm so angry is because I think you struck a nerve.

You hit me in the ONE spot I'm vulnerable: the doubt that eats me at times, that I'm missing out on something because I'm such a staunch non-settler. I'm filled with hope and optimism and independent pride, you know, the whole "I'm too damn smackfly for ANY man!!!" thing.....but deep down, I wonder if 1) It really IS possible for me to end up alone and unhappy, and 2) I've somehow missed out on some vital part of life. Some secret club that everyone's a part of but me.

Please tell me.....because I will MAKE my arguments to you and I will believe them, because I've spent ages crafting them. I also happen to personally believe everything I say.

But hiding in me is this small fear, that fear that I may be just what you imply....a kid who doesn't REALLY know anything at all and pretends to be everyone's fecking cousellor....

When she really doesn't know any better.

I Blog Too Much

2007-01-23T01:17:00.000+11:00

Holy Persfuffety!

I passed my one year birthday and forgot all about it!

Ok, so I didn't forget.

Ok, OK, OK, So I remembered it a month ahead and set a phone reminder.

Shut up, I love this blog.

ANYWAY! SINCE I wasn't HERE on the 20th of Jan (in Sydney with family), I guess my birthday post comes three days late. And here's what I've decided to do.

"I need to admit that I really miss feeling close to God. I need to admit that what you did, and what you said, hurt a lot more than I implied. I need to admit that I'm really, really going to miss this place, and stop pretending like its all good. I need to admit that to you, I'm being a damned hypocrite. I need to admit that right now, I'm feeling REALLY insecure because I'm starting to believe what they want me to believe. I need to admit that I'm really confused. I need to admit that I don't have the answers and that I'm NOT really in control. I need to admit that I LIKE YOU BUT I CAN'T TELL YOU, GODDAMNIT."

That is an excerpt from a REALLY old blog of mine....OK, so not REALLY old...but just towards the end of 2005, I wrote that in a post. I thought it'd be fun to pick that apart and see what I feel about it NOW, and possibly even tell you what I was being sadamn cryptic about towards the end :)

I need to admit that I really miss feeling close to God.

Wow. And this was a month after the whole "reading Purpose Driven Life and feeling so great and secure in my relationship with God" phase. It....it really used to matter very much to me, didn't it? Now, I can say how much I miss it and it sounds mechanical....then it was all "OHMYGOD,I'VELOSTTHEFEELING! GETITBACK, GETITBACKNOW!" Sigh. I miss the old Me. I was a more spiritual Me with a greater capacity of pure joy! I guess I exchanged some of that for a more realistic view of the world: that God IS there and he loves me, but he DOES let bad things happen. Horrible things, too. I'm still wrestling with that one, but I know that he'll call my heart back soon.

I need to admit that what you did, and what you said, hurt a lot more than I implied.

Oh, for crap's sake. Do you know what this was about? HAHAHAHAHAHA, I walked into Pretty Fit, at the Mall on Lyn's insistence. There, then ex-crush-who-broke-my-frail-heart and now that-random-gay-kid-I-liked-once who's name we shall say is, Oh, what the hell, FLALEX worked, and he walked out of the store upon seeing me. I honestly do thank God that at some point, I started loving myself more: I've been through a LOT this year, LEAST of all flunking an English-taught class for the first time since Primary 5, and nowadays, nothing of this non-magnitude fazes me anymore.

And for the record, I DID honestly like the guy, and it DID hurt when he said what he said. I won't bitch about him because you know what? I'm SO much better than that.

I need to admit that I'm really, really going to miss this place, and stop pretending like its all good.

I still miss the place so very much, and I tell at least ONE PERSON from Brunei this every DAY. But to recount....the one time I cried before the Airport about leaving Brunei was when Useni Aunty (my dance teacher) held my hands and cried.....then I sat in the car and sobbed for 15 minutes unceasingly.

Aunty, I miss you so much, and thank you for your dance classes: they made not much difference to my FIGURE, but possibly the BIGGEST difference to my core being: you gave me friendship, camaraderie, a sound knowledge and pride of my race, and most of all, a support system that spans India, Brunei and Australia. Thanks for Nazmi and Divs and Parks, because without you, I wouldn't have them.

I need to admit that to you, I'm being a damned hypocrite.

Teo, this was about you. I've already apologized for the absolute godawful way I treated you in F5. You DID do some hurtful things, but I did my part by refusing to swallow my pride and forgive you for them. I'm sorry, man, I didn't understand what I do now: That we all carry around a heartbreaking, secret hell inside our heads, and yours was pretty damn big. I miss ya man, and I don't say this enough: You taught me more about forgiveness and acceptance just by letting me be the opposite to you for awhile. Thanks, because I don't think you'll ever FULLY understand why you're right up there with some of my other guys as being one of the Golden Standards. You'd be THE Golden Standard if you weren't so damn unhappy and could love yourself a little more.

I need to admit that right now, I'm feeling REALLY insecure because I'm starting to believe what they want me to believe.

Mom and dad, CLEARLY! ;) They wanted me to stop talking so much, and we argued a LOT on this point: that I talked too much, too fast, too loud, and in front of people too.

I suddenly realized, JUST this year, that for all their promises of unpopularity and dislike and people bitching about me behind my short back and my friend's parents considering me a bad influence...........,

That I've never actually been UNPOPULAR or DISLIKED, except when I was doing EXACTLY what they told me to do: Shut up, quieten down, squash your personality, and be a good girl. I'm happy being me, and if I've gotten friends like Mala, Jas, Naz, Sarah, Fel, Clint, Josh, Teo, Lyn, Divs, Parks, Tash and my other amazing, loyal friends by being a loud, tryhard clownlike weirdface.....

Then loud, tryhard clownlike weirdface I stay!!!! AMEN TO THAT!

I need to admit that I LIKE YOU BUT I CAN'T TELL YOU, GODDAMNIT.

And this one, I'll keep to myself. But I HAVE realized one thing about this particular guy: I never had a crush on him. Instead, I had the startlingly mature realization that I could honestly marry this guy and be the happiest, most content woman alive. I think we BOTH brought out a lot of good in each other, and really, what more do you need? It wasn't even love, it was something far, far greater: stability. You can engineer the former, not the latter. Argue with me on this, please?

SOOOOO that's where we are!!! Maybe I'm not as innocent or optimistic or carefree as I used to be, but I'm still the same person. I'm still full of joy and full of promise and full of childish hopes and dreams....

Except that NOW, they're drawn in ink, not in crayon.

And again, I'll say it: All is right with the world tonight!!!

So You Wanna Know How I Feel, Huh?

2007-01-22T00:00:00.000+11:00

Well, here you go, then.

I feel like a HYPOCRITE for closing my eyes and stretching out my arm when in my head, I'm thinking, "What the hell, I don't seem to remember how to do this?"

I feel like a RETARD for clapping like a moron, when clearly, I've lost all desire to clap with joy.

I feel ENVY of those people sitting in the front over there, the ones jumping up and down. I used to be like them, once, didn't I?

I feel ASHAMED, because my 12 year old cousin is more into this whole "god" thing than I am.

I feel LOST, because I know what it is like to be FOUND, but then lost it again.

I feel ANGER at them for having it, when somehow I can't remember that feeling of intense spirituality.

I feel EMPTY because I'm standing in church, singing some songs I don't really understand, and all I can think about is, "I can't hear my own voice, this place is LOUD."

I feel JEALOUS of those people sitting in the front, who are now holding each OTHER and praying. Didn't that used to be me, Laurice, Grace, Larissa, Chloe, all my other girls and guys from YDM?

I feel GUILTY because I stepped into a CHURCH, and the first thing I thought was, "Hey, the lead singer is REALLY cute."

But mostly.....

I feel an overwhelming sense of LONGING, because I know that somewhere along the line, I HAD God. I did. I really did, and I was really happy. I long for that feeling, for that fellowship, for that joy SO complete, that nothing: grades, popularity, compliments, jewellery, shopping, India, cousins, family, books, cute babies and feeling needed.......

Could ever replace.

I think I've said before that I was scared of losing God.

Well, no fear of THAT anymore, right?

Because it's STUPID to be scared of losing something YOU'VE ALREADY LOST.

Why Is SanaBanana Always The LAST To Do Things?!

2007-01-06T18:36:00.000+11:00

Don't answer that if you value our friendship.

But I've FINALLY decided to jump on the bandwagon and produce a list of uninteresting things I'm going to get done in 2007, a week after it's begun.

Sue me, I've been in India floating on a cloud of mysore pak, tiny silver boxes and cheap jewellery.

SO HERE WE GO!!

SanaBanana MatMat's Top Ten Wannaccomplishments, twoKsev

10) To study and not just pretend I study, so the cute smart guy in my class will love me and realize that HE'S a short smartass, I'M a short smartass, so clearly we're meant to be.

Oh yeah, and the whole Ace HSC-make parents proud-get into asskicking uni-become a doctor-cure cancer thing too.

9) To read more QUALITY books and no more BS like JD Salinger's The Catcher In The Rye. Bitch and backlash all you want, but really, why not just read a REALLY long, REALLY horny descriptive essay??

8) To get closer to god, and I shall not make any funny comments for fear of blasphemy and eternal damnation to the fiery pits of hell. But on second thought, I'm ALREADY doing Extension 2 Maths, so how much worse could it actually get?

7) To lose a squillion kilos and become uber hot, so the cute smart guy in my class will love me and realize that's HE'S a short skinny smartass, I'M a short skinny smartass, so clearly we're meant to be.

6) To actually go three days without bitching about my parents in some way, even if he's a whiny automaton of a broken record and she's a neurotic spiteful meanface. Oh wait, did I just break that one?

5) To make up for three years of lost time with my grandma, and be her own oily braided Tamil speaking spineless submissive mouse. Not that the perfect Indian woman is LIKE that or anything.

4) To keep my sheer innocence and childlike wonder in a world where I'm utterly at a loss to say anything, but not lose the sharp edge of the already sharper-than-sharpass tongue.

3) To stop randomly peppering my words with "Ass", because it's making me sound assretarded.

2) To hope a little more, make excuses a little less, and realize that I can't do everything right all the time, but that it still doesn't hurt to try.

1) Ok, so the truth is, I only DID have like, 8 real ones, but 8 isn't a nice number, so I'm going to blab this one away and we can pretend there were ten.

Deal?

Deal.

Love and hugs, people, I hope your new year brings you as much joy and happiness as yo sorry ass deserves!

If You Knew

2006-12-28T11:26:00.000+11:00

You wouldn't call me UGLY,
........if you knew I throw up every night to try and look pretty.

You wouldn't call me FAT,
........if you knew I only started eating to block out the sound of my parents fighting.

You wouldn't call me a LOSER,
........if you knew I help out at soup kitchens while you party.

You wouldn't call me a NERD,
........if you knew my parents have never been proud of my perfect grades.

You wouldn't call me UPTIGHT,
........if you knew my sister was abused.

You wouldn't call me BACKWARD,
........if you knew that my parents tried their hardest to raise me well, despite neither of them being educated.

You wouldn't call me a SLUT,
........if you knew that my dad beat my mother up constantly.

You wouldn't call me WEAK,
........if you knew that I had a hole in my heart when I was born, and almost didn't make it.

You wouldn't call me STUPID,
........if you knew I work two jobs to support my family.

You wouldn't call me a FREAK,
........if you knew I've only ever wanted acceptance, but never got it.

You wouldn't call me a BITCH,
........if you knew my parents cheated on each other, and neither cared enough about the kids to hide it.

You wouldn't call me TWISTED,
........if you knew I blame myself for my mother's suicide.

In short, if you knew of the secret hell inside my head, maybe, just maybe, you'd realize that I'm just like you.

Tania

2006-12-23T15:11:00.000+11:00

He sat hunched over the newspaper.

Easy.....easy....his eyes weren't as great as they used to be....mustn't chop off any of the hair.

Because this is how he wanted to remember her.

Slowly, he glued the slightly faded photograph that he'd just tailored onto the newspaper article.

Much better.

Because this was going to be how he'd remember her.

He looked at the article, again, and this time, the photograph jogged a memory.

It was a photo of a tiny girl, with thick brown curls. She was wearing one of those ridiculous pairs of enormous sunglasses: plastic frames twice the size of her face, in a cornea-searing pink, more dangerous to eyes than the UV rays they were meant to protect from. Her smile, remarkably gap-free for a four year old, was a killer: you looked at this child and KNEW that smile would get her places.

He winced at the thought. Hah, places indeed.

He'd seen her only once since she ran away. He knew she still came by the house: she hadn't left her key, and once or twice, he'd come up to her bedroom in the morning to find the covers mussed and the shower steaming.

He'd woken up early one morning, and caught her coming down the stairs. She still had the penetrating eyes, no longer hidden by frames of pink plastic, but by layers of kohl. The smile was still there, and could still make a man melt, but the bright red surrounding it reminded him faintly of a clown. Like Mr Bubbles, who'd been guest of honour at her fourth birthday party.

And, oh, her hair. Her beautiful, fluffy brown hair. It had always been daddy's favourite feature, and she, daddy's favourite child. Now, it glowed radioactive, more peroxide than keratin.

She'd stared for another moment, and then rushed past him out the door. He hadn't said anything.

One look at her clothes told him what his beautiful shining star had become. He'd wanted her to be a doctor, and she'd wanted to be a singer.

One look at her clothes, that was all, and he knew she'd become neither.

But that was OK, really, it was. Whatever she wanted to do with her life, didn't matter to him. This blonde stranger, this random prostitute murdered in Suffolks' streets, meant nothing to him.

He stared at the picture again. This was how he was going to remember her.

This was who he was going to grieve for.

His clinical mental separation done, he put his head into his arms and sobbed.

Authors Note: Some of you may have heard of the Jack the Ripper copycat who's been terrorizing the streets of Ipswich, Suffolk, brutally murdering prostitutes. One of his victims was only 19 years old. Aside from her name, Tania, this story is born entirely of my imagination.

Peace, prayers and healing to the families of these women.

No, Seriously?!

2006-12-20T12:45:00.000+11:00

This article annoys me.

Long and short of it is, Pink is using her celebrity status to save sheep from the evil, evil yuck-on-a-stick that is Australian wool farming.

That is the livelihood of over a million sheep farmers in Australia.

That is 17% of this country's farm exports.

So.

Hold on, and let me get this straight:

Pink has her pink panties in a bunch because a couple of sheep are getting their bums nicked, and because of that she wants to debase an entire ECONOMY?!

IS ANYONE ELSE FINDING THIS A LITTLE ODD?!?!?!

I mean, for chrissake!!!!! If sheep really ARE getting as horribly treated as she says, then sure, action should be taken AGAINST the offending farmers. But what this female is doing is taking 5 isolated cases where sheep actually got HURT, and turning it into an international campaign with the purpose of shutting down the ENTIRE wool industry in Australia.

I have nothing against animals, and I don't believe they should be slaughtered mercilessly so a fat white woman can have a mink coat.

But when it comes to the human versus animal debate, FORGIVE ME, PINK, if I pick HUMAN.

If I pick the sheep farmer who has to feed his family over the poow wittew sheepy with a cut on its bum-oley.

Seriously?! I mean, SERIOUSLY?!

Get a life, and use your celebrity status to actually DO something that will make a difference to REAL PEOPLE. Shut down industries based on child labour, raise the standard of living in Africa, go Angelina and adopt a couple hundred orphans.

But for God's sake, think of the PEOPLE behind the fluffy Merinos, and how this campaign will affect THEM.

THE SHEEP WILL DIE ANYWAY IN 10 YEARS, AND YOU'LL EAT THEIR MUTTON. The farmers will have to live with years and years of debt, for another 50.

Yes, Yes, I'm Still Alive!

2006-11-29T18:13:00.000+11:00

For everyone who's asked, yes, I'm still alive, and I love you muchly :) Yesterday was my iskoole's SCAPE production, the equivalent of our annual concert. The highlight of my evening?'

When I pulled off the solo without a glitch, and hit the top notes after ALL that worrying? Nah.

When a bunch of random kids I didn't know complimented me on my performance? I love them so much and the people here for their immense support....but no, that wasn't it.

When, at the end of the programme, we dropped a friend of mine home who I'd been having a bit of a problem with, and she hugged me? Again, lovely, but no.

It was when the second choir piece we'd prepared came up, after the solo, after all the glitz and glamour of the first song. When we sang the Hallelujah from Shrek, and when we hit the opening lines. When a father sitting in the fifth row put his arm around his little daughter and held her.

That, my friends, was my highlight.

Warning: Large Amount of Hot Air Coming Up!!!

2006-11-20T20:40:00.000+11:00

(anyone who's Christian and knows me SORT OF, will both understand the latent humour and irony in this post and know to still love me. I KNOW I'm a fathead, but posts like this are mercifully rare! So read, love me, and...love me? ;)

I may be smarter than her with a lot more common sense,
But if I have not his love, I am little more than a fabulously intelligent young prodigy.

I may be funnier than her with geniusface wit,
But if I have not his love, I am merely one hell of a wickedly hilarious chick who can spin a mean rap.

I may dress BETTER than her and have a phatbuluss sense of style,
But if I have not his love, I am just a brilliantly dressed young lady with jewellery that matches impeccably.

I may have prettier fluffy dark hair (And gentlemen prefer brunettes!), and perfect, natural nails that look like a French manicure,
But if I have not his love, I am nothing more than a lovely haired young lady with fingers than a good few girls pay 30 bucks for.

I may, in fact, be better than this female in EVERY way......
But if I have not his love.....

What the crap am I losing, exactly?!

I'm happy :) He's a nice guy, but not for me.

Life is good, and all is right with the world tonight!

The Prayer

2006-11-11T15:15:00.000+11:00

First off, a HUGE thanks to Ches for giving my blog the MUCH needed shot of cyberbotox!!! Show the guy some love, he's a WAY better writer than I'll ever be.

And here's a prayer I wrote for a school liturgy that I wanted to share with y'all.

Dear Lord,

We thank you that there is at least one person in our lives who'd give up their lives for us, because they show us the true meaning of unconditional love.

We thank you that there is at least one person in our lives who'd give up a great deal for us, for the show us that even love has its boundaries.

We thank you for at least one person in our lives who'd give up very little for us, because they teach us the value of acquaintanceship and to bestow our trust on others wisely.

We thank you for at least one person in our lives who'd give up absolutely NOTHING for us, for they teach us that we're NOT perfect, we're NOT infallible, we're NOT actually all that.

Finally, Lord, we thank you that when we may get hurt and cry over the fourth group....for the first, second and third who'll hold us when we hurt and not ask questions, for it is tears that make us human.........

......and people that make humanity worth it.

Real People, Real Quotes

2006-11-04T18:04:00.000+11:00

Some of you might recognize a line here...know that if you ARE, in fact, a proud owner of a quote here, you changed my life perceptibly with a comment you may even have thought was offhand. I have been SO blessed in my 16 years with people who saw fit, at a time I needed it, to be brutally honest, shatteringly malicious, fiercely loyal. Know that you were a turning point that I mightn't have had without you.

"I think....I saw you as...kind of a light?"

"Yeah, she's really popular but she's nice to people who aren't."

"You are the worst Editor the Torch Bearer has ever had."

"I was SO f**king angry!!! I mean, HOW could he say that to you?!"

"You are my pride and joy....and I respect and value you and your opinions more than you'll ever realize."

"When the two of you are on stage together, I feel sorry for you."

"And Sangi...he said you're kinda....gettin annoying..."

"You're a SLUT!"

"You're not happy anymore....you used to be so happy. What happened?"

"Maybe all she needs is someone to find her...kind of like you found me."

"Just like you are responsible for all your past failures!"

"Ok, ok, how about I be the mother, and you be my daughter?"

"I'm...really sorry."

"We were talking about how amazing you are..."

"Why did you say that?"

"I treasure your insights and perspectives more than you think I do."

"Sarala Aunty wants to know why you always wear the same dresses."

"I'm losing a very good student...."

"I want you to write to me, because I have a feeling you'll make a mark."

"Look at yourself, now, girl, who are you?"

The Friend With The Great Personality

2006-10-31T20:15:00.000+11:00

This is a post dedicated to all my girls and all my guys...

Who:

.....are absolutely fabulous.....

.....have the largest personalities.....

.....and the biggest charismas.....

.....make the funniest jokes.....

.....light rooms up just by entering them.....

.....own stages.....

.....have hearts with enormous capacities.....

.....are intelligent.....

.....are exceptionally talented.....

.....have amazing determination and character.....

.....work hard for everything they've gotten in life.....

.....everyone turns to for advice.....

And yet, still, remain single for the sole reason that they're not considered mainstream hot, or mainstream Relationship Material.

You are.

Trust me.

You know why?

Because a fatheaded little kid who sits inside my head told me so.

Dear Idiotfaced Retardheaded Weaseljack....

2006-10-30T21:51:00.000+11:00

.....Perfect Guy......

Ok.

So MAYBE...just MAYBE...I was kinda supposed to maybe be over you sort of.

But would you PLEASE stop finding NEW WAYS to be perfect?

He cooks.

He's been a navy cadet.

He drums, in a band that's doing WELL.

He's thoughtful, he remembers obscure things that you tell him at random.

He's got style.

He's intelligent.

He's a gentleman (PULLS OUT BLOODY CHAIRS FOR YOU).

He has MORAL VALUES (Rare in these parts!).....

I hate him SO much!!!!!!!!!!!

I wish he'd HURRY UP and get with blonde bimbybot chick and stop giving me hope.

I'm starting to hate hope. It's this horrible little monster that gradually eats away your vital organs.....you FEEL the warmth at first and feel good.....

Without realizing that it's slowly, slowly burning your heart.

Sad

2006-10-24T18:11:00.001+10:00

I was about to name this post, "Woman, thy husband is an idiot."

But I can't possibly be so deliberately bitchy with the people that raised me.....because I know that I'm just extremely angry now and must not make any rash decisions that will end up hurting me more.

Why this post then, you ask.

Well, first and foremost, this blog is where I dump my emotions when I'm scared my diary will be found and when I can't put into rhyme what I feel.....this is usually because feelings I write about are alien: pity for a fictional autistic boy: sorrow for the child who was dumped by his mother, when I really couldn't ever relate to her.

That's when I blog, when the feeling I'm experiencing hits me so deeply at my core, that I can't dissociate myself from it and put it into lyrical poetry.

I am deeply sad....not depressed, not despondent, none of those bigass words that older people use to describe a pure feeling that's been corrupted by the desire to sound intelligent.

I am just.....sad. The word a five year old uses. A seven year old. A six year old. I use the word sad because I feel that age now, when you just want to cry out of sheer frustration and despair.

I realize that as long as I live under the same roof as my father......I will never respect him.

When dad lived in KL and us in Brunei, he was objective and intelligent...he gave great advice that solved the problem.

Not advice that was tailored and effing cookie cut like out of some effing parenting book.

It's not just that.

He has this idiotic pathological need to be in control of situiations WHERE THERE WAS NO CONTROL ISSUE.

And to find fault where there IS none.

I wonder if he realizes that I'm the ONE daughter he hasn't managed to alienate with his condescension, his complete lack of tact, his unjustified need to find fault and character flaws where they DON'T EXIST. He has three.

"It's because you're at the AGE ma, where you feel your parents are always wrong! It's soon you'll realize how wrong you are!" I WILL NOT BE TURNED INTO THE FOOLISH, REBELLIOUS, PARANOID TEENAGER WHEN MY SENSE OF JUDGEMENT IS BETTER THAN ANYTHING YOU'VE DISPLAYED OVER THE PAST FEW MONTHS.

"Your butt is spending too long on the computer. I want you to go study NOW." I WILL NOT BE MADE TO FEEL LIKE THE LITTLE FLAWS I DISPLAY AS A NORMAL, STABLE INDVIDUAL MAGNIFY TO ENORMOUS PROPORTIONS AND SCAR ME, ESPECIALLY NOT AFTER SPENDING FOUR EFFING HOURS STUDYING.

"You see, you never help us. I TOLD you to get the photos on the computer! Why can't you do this ONE THING to help your parents!" I WILL NOT BE UNJUSTIFIEDLY MADE TO FEEL GUILTY FOR THINGS THAT AREN'T MY FAULT, AND ARE IN FACT DUE TO YOUR OWN STUPIDITY: I CAN'T GET PICTURES INTO A DAMN COMPUTER WITHOUT A USB OR A MEMORY CARD THAT FITS THE DAMN SLOT OR A SCANNER.

I apologize.

I am out of control.

I am sad.

It May Not Be True, But.....

2006-10-16T07:52:00.000+10:00

I like to think that when I enter a room, heads turn to look at me. It may not be true, but I walk with a little more bounce in my step.

I like to think that I am the smartest little smartie smart in the whole world, and anyone who beats me academically did so by default. It may not be true, but it keeps me self motivated and filled with hope and faith for higher standards.

I like to think that my poetry is prodigious, ingenious, and NOT too long. It may not be true, but I write with a little more feeling and a little more passion.

I like to think that my hair is NOT a tangled mess of half-assed waves, but a luxuriant mass of classy curls. It may not be true, but I flip it with confidence.

I like to think that my body is the perfect shape. It may not be true, but it lets me look myself in the mirror and love and more importantly, ACCEPT whatever I see.

I like to think that chocolate is healthy. It may not be true, but you'll never find a happier person than me on a sugar high.

I like to think that I'll make a great doctor and change lives with my profession. It may not be true, but I work harder and faster to attain excellence in academics to make that dream come true.

I like to think that people, at their core, are generally good. It may not be true, but it gives me the added faith boost of a 4 year old child, and who really needs anything more?

I like to think that I make a difference and leave a fingerprint on the lives of people I come in contact with. It may not be true, but I strive to change the world and make people smile, knowing that a single smile could brighten a hundred faces.

I like to think that my skin is the perfect colour and texture. It may not be true, but it lets me accept, own and be proud of the race that bore me and the childhood problems that shaped me.

I like to think that my friends remember me and speak well of me long after I'm gone. It may not be true, but it allows me a support system that spans whole countries.

I like to think that a bad grade does not signal my own deterioration, but rather a misfortune to be accepted. It may not be true, but it allows me to not get down over every little fault, and fills me with fresh, fierce determination.

I like to think God loves me unconditionally. It may not.....no wait. This is one thing that will ALWAYS be true.

5 Reasons Why I Can't Stand Anime

2006-10-08T21:23:00.000+10:00

Alley, please don't hurt me, but:

5) They're drawn to sort of look like real people, but their features are sharper than butchers knives. Has anyone actually SEEN real Japanese people?!

4) I firmly believe this is a stunt by the Japanese people to take over yet ANOTHER aspect of our everyday lives. They've already got our electrical appliances and our educational standards, they're NOT TAKING DEXTER AWAY FROM ME.

3) I ALSO believe it's a rather sad stunt, again by the Japanese, to prove that they ARE a happy bunch of suicidal workaholics. It's like, where do these people have TIME to watch cartoons?!?

2) Their chicks are pretty. Their dudes are prettier.

AND THE NUMBER ONE REASON:

1) They've stolen the Jackass Award for Most Ridiculous Plotline from the Tamil people. (Come on....75 year old Brahmin priest with a 20 year old mistress or dude with a box of liquid for a mom?).

Ignorance = Innocence?

2006-09-30T21:08:00.000+10:00

When I was young:

A rainbow was the most magical, beautiful thing in the world.

A flower that told me a boy did indeed, love me, held authority absolute.

The sun in the sky was, in fact, me, or at least according to my parents. Stars, somehow, were also me, because my parents said I was their shining star.

Perfume smelled pretty because mommy wore it.

It rained because the angels were crying....I'd done something bad.....

Clouds are fluffy and look like cotton candy, and you can sit on them and they'll float you up to heaven if you're good.

Now, I know that:

A rainbow is, in fact, the splitting of light into its component 7 colours due to the difference in wavelengths of each colour of the V Light spectrum.

A flower's verdict on love, using principles of general progression and pairs, can be predicted: Pick a flower with an odd number of petals and start with "He Loves Me", or an even number and start with "He Loves Me Not".

The sun shines because of the proton-proton chain reactions that occur in their cores, resulting in the burning of hydrogen into helium nuclei, i.e. nuclear fusion. This results in an enormous amount of radiant energy being released.

Perfume smells pretty because of the covalent molecules that make it up, that are extremely volatile and have a low melting point, resulting in their vapourization and diffusion.

Rain occurs because water evaporates from bodies of water and condenses in the atmosphere to form clouds...

Which, by the way, are not dense enough to sit on because they are merely droplets of water. Even if it WERE possible to sit on one, the extremely low air pressure would make it near impossible to breathe.

Does anyone ELSE miss being a kid?

26 Years And Counting.....

2006-09-25T17:17:00.000+10:00

You try to take control in situations where there was, in fact, NO control issue,

BUT

I know that at times, my passive aggression hurts.

You constantly make me feel guilty for past actions of other people,

BUT

I know you're just trying to make sure that I don't hurt myself.

You have such little faith in my sense of judgement,

BUT

I know your jobs require you to see people my age who ALWAYS made the wrong decision.

You let ONE PERSON'S actions influence how you view me, despite 5 years of my proving otherwise,

BUT

I know you would blame ONLY yourselves if I screwed up.

You seem to have a pathological need to find faults,

BUT

I know that at the end of the day, you think you're just doing your jobs.

You honestly have no clue how good you have it,

BUT

I know that you DO deserve good children for the parents you've been.

I'm adore showing the two of you off, even if I DO whine about you all the time, because you are proof that love and duty and honour DO still exist. Ma, if I could find someone who fits me half as well as dad does you, I'll be fortunate. Da, if you are holding me up to your wife's standards and THAT'S the reason you are so very harsh, then it lessens the blow greatly.

Happy 26th Anniversary, Mom and Dad.

I Think You Can Tell A Lot About A Person....

2006-09-22T21:48:00.000+10:00

By looking at what they love the most in life. So here.

1) I love sitting in warm, quiet corners with thick books.

2) I love singing in the shower, purposely taking longer when I know someone's waiting for it.

3) I love walking in the rain with no umbrella and laughing when people stare at the crazy brown girl DANGLING AN UMBRELLA...but walking in the rain nonetheless.

4) I look flipping my hair at random, especially when there are cute guys around.

5) I love dark curls on BOTH guys and girls.

6) I love the feeling of understanding.

7) I love solving math problems, especially if they're complicated, and especially especially if I'm the first person to get it.

8) I love sitting on a half empty bus looking out the window.

9) I love the whole hour or so I get to myself alone at home.

10) I love peppermint chocolate.

11) I love opportunities to be passive aggressive because people can SENSE you're being smart but can't call you on it.

12) I love it when people think I'm smart, or funny, or cool, especially when these are people I've been natural around.

13) I love playing Scrabble with an intelligent opponent.

14) I love proving people wrong.

15) I love conversations that are self-propagating...the kind that require almost no effort to keep up and flow like smooth caramel. (And no, I DON'T ever stop thinking of food.)

16) I love Scrubs and understanding and stealing their jokes.

17) I love being, feeling or doing something useful.

18) I love, of course, the family, the friends, the people that make it worth it.

19) I love long-distance phone calls where you talk about nonsense for thirty five minutes, and for the next thirty five minutes, berate each other for talking nonsense, TRY to get a real conversation going, then end up talking nonsense again.

20) I love inside jokes because they make me feel superior :).

Good Question.

2006-09-13T06:27:00.000+10:00

"....tell me, what do you do, when it all falls apart?" - The Veronicas, That Bigass Song That Made Them Famous

Yeah, trust ME to couple a serious, I'm-depressed song lyric with a word like Bigass. JUXTAPOSITION, people, I learnt that in English class. (Yiaw, I'M HARDCORE!)

But in all the honesty I can muster........

What DO you do when it all falls apart?

When every fibre of the world you know starts to change? The tapestry of life is such that every thread weaves absolutely perfectly. That is, in essence, the definition of a comfort zone: Where everything is just in place, everything just....fits.

But this whole WEEK....while it hasn't been devastating or hurtful or scary in any way....is just so....WEIRD. I believe I now hold the record for "OHMYGIDDYGODSTROUSERS!" moments in the span of a week.

This new tapestry that's forming, it's odd how everything seems to be moving into place to form a new image. I'm somehow comforted that all these threads that mean so much to me, are not actually breaking: they're just switching places. I'm just not used to the new picture I'm seeing.

To be VAGUE (if it applies to you, you'll know), someone very close is letting herself get hurt and I don't know why, another person very close has gotten herself hooked up (which is extremely odd: she doesn't TALK to guys period), someone else has finally grown a spine and uttered the most unexpected thing, two people have found each other, finally, I'm rediscovering my inner shrink (thank GOD)...

Oh.

And yeah, the whole Jester thing? Jig is up. Finally found out where his "emotionally weird" place was...and totally unexpectedly too.

Long and short of it is, I have to move on, and I'm absolutely fine about it, which may be the ONLY thing that's normal about this week:

My strange, at times disturbing ability to clinically separate my mechanical self from my emotional self. I mean, this is totally me, isn't it? Think logically, think calculatively, come up with quantitative solutions and logical explanations. What's interesting, but a bit sad, is that I can learn something with the potential to hurt me badly...

And then sit down and do a Physics paper.

What's SADDER, is that I'm actually very happy being that way, and quite proud of myself for being able to do that. Ruddy useful skill, it is, too. Does anyone else do this? Completely and totally detach yourself from what's going on inside your head because you have a duty to someone else? Or even yourself?

I refuse to pity myself and screw up my exams on account of something I knew wasn't ever going to happen anyway. Jester isn't worth my self pride.

I NEED you guys to comment on this. Anyone with a weirder week than mine gets the first, and SPECIALEST, prize of having me bitch, whine, and possibly break down to them after the full weight of what happened yesterday (The Jester thing, fools! :) I start getting abusive when I'm confused :P), hits me.

And only if you're close will you understand just how rare that is.

Dear You,

2006-09-10T10:32:00.000+10:00

I flaffed church today because I had this weird backache, listening to all the CRAP you loaded my computer with. Some of it's pretty good but I will NEVER understand how you could POSSIBLY enjoy Ryan Cabrera. Oh, it's not just that he looks like a weasel or anything....OK, maybe just that then.

So I went back and read our Achi blog. It is the ONLY, SINGLE solitary piece of writing that EVERY DAMN TIME I look at it, no matter how many times I've read it, still makes me cry for some unknown reason. Make no mistake, I DO on rare occasion cry when reading something, watching something. But eventually, I get over it. That damn post flows so eerily beautifully I wish I could just forget the damned URL. I realize what that reason is: I'm crying as much for you as for Achi.

Shama and I never had that connection with her that you have, you know....so what I feel everytime I read it....isn't quite me feeling sad at her not being here, and the fact that she's getting older, and possibly locking doors and forgetting the keys, and being unhappy when she has to put in that damned hearing aid, because these do make me sad but that's not the first thing I think of reading that post....

But it's the fact that I feel SOMETHING powerful inside, like some unknown wellspring from which these foreign teardrops come from.

You know what that wellspring is?

It's you. Remember I told you once that I knew you had cried writing it because I cried reading it? It's the same thing here....I don't quite understand WHAT I feel when I read it, but I weep on in the knowledge, firm and quiet, that you do.

I miss her too, Chooster....I will forever be filled with self disgust and sheer regret at not going for walks with her in Brunei when she asked me to because I was on the bloody computer. Every time I talk to her she sounds so excited and I swear on everything that I possess inclusive of my soul....

That should she come back and ask for me to walk with her at 12.00 midnight in nothing but my jammies in the freezing weather, I'll go happily and even ask for another round.

I'm terrified I haven't given her enough of a reason to want to come back to me, and in my head is this horrible thought, completely irrational but there, that this whole Mena thing is a complete farce and she's not coming back....

Because she really doesn't want to.

Is Mena really looking to get married, Chooster? Do we even HAVE a cousin called Mena?

I miss her so much. I'm a selfish b*tch and I WANT THOSE YEARS. I WANT THAT TIME. They're NOT taking that time away from me!! They're NOT!

I want to come to Dublin but the MemmyDaddy are making it difficult. The female half is pulling her Psych crap and the male half is blundering along in usual *yell at EVERYTHING and maybe you'll hit someone who deserves it* fashion. Both are making their attempts at passive aggression without QUITE knowing who the queen of passive aggression is.

Muchos Amo, Tofatosexymato :)

Note: To EVERYONE else, no, I'm not crazy and yes, I WILL be OK. There really are only two people who'll understand this completely because they share the same connection with me.

I love ALL the rest of you, and if you wouldn't mind, kindly ERASE this blog from your mind lest you think I'm a whackjob. That IS in fact true, but at least this way, I don't come off as a DEPRESSED whackjob, for they are all the more scary!

Back in awhile with more of my usual stuff :)

Hi, My Name Is Sana........

2006-09-07T21:14:00.000+10:00

And I've just had, without a doubt, one of the weirdest days of my life.

I've won the battle, finally. I am exhilarated. This means I get to keep my pretty long nails that took four months to grow, shape and become healthy.

I've discovered more than I ever wanted to know about a friend. I am scared. This means that we are both changing so much because I'm not sure if it DID actually bring us closer.

I've discovered something new about an old crush (one of the bigger ones), and for some reason, I'm not happy about what happened. I am thrilled. This means I have moved on.

I've read one of the most beautiful entries I've read in a long time. I am grateful. This means I am loved, and Lyn, I love you so much, and I haven't cried like that in a while.

It was supposed to be just an ordinary, boring Thursday, wasn't it?

I guess there really IS no such thing.

I will definitely blog longer, more coherent entries after Physics Asst. Task and exams are over :)

I love you guys so much......why am I feeling so vulnerable? Shedding my old personality, perhaps?

I hope not.

I rather LIKE Fatheaded, Confident Smartass Too-Dayme-Smackfly-For-Any-Man Girl.

Let's hope she's still there!

Splashing in Puddles

2006-08-28T16:24:00.000+10:00

As she walked off the bus, the new song from the choir still in her head, she reflected on what she'd done.

Oh, she WAS mighty proud of it, and screw her absolute good girl image, it HAD to be marred SOMETIME!

Mmhmm, people, we're talking BIG here.....!

She wrote on the BATHROOM WALL!!

*tumbleweed* *crickets*

What?! IT WAS THE MOST REBELLIOUS THING SHE'D EVER DONE!

She recited the words to herself....next to a badly spelt love declaration, she'd written, in black felt, "Lucky you...mine still has no idea that when he laughs, the vital pump that keeps me alive....momentarily forgets its function."

She'd thought it was quite eloquent, especially next to "i LuV mY bOi".

While contemplating the mysteries of her complicated non-love life, she was distracted for a moment: a couple of kids splashing in puddles, on their way home.

While "haha, dumb kids" crept to her throat, something odd happened.

She was smiling.

And here's the weirdest part: It was completely unintentional.

She hadn't even realized she'd been smiling.

And it struck her: How long had it been since she'd caught herself just...enjoying? How long had it been since the glimmer of a smile, like a gold coin in the sand, had lit her face that had not been advertant and even more so, artfully placed?

She realized that it had been far too long. She also realized that she had allowed something as beautiful and pure as a smile to become a thing of falsity. How she was able to conjure one up, orchestrate one, forcing someone to think something or feel something or even say something that had been unprecendented.

She decided, right then, to allow these precious gifts to come naturally. To not smile at people as if it were protocol, but rather because the sight of a familiar, friendly face brought joy. To not laugh at jokes because it would appear foolish not to, but because they stirred within her heart an uproarious mirth.

And then she decided to come home and blog about it, just in case someone who needed to remember how to laugh, happened to chance across it.

And You Asked If I've Changed!

2006-08-21T19:45:00.000+10:00

Friend: "So how was your weekend? Heard ya went to Sydney, how was it?

OLD SANA: (What I would have normally said).

You know what's amazing? That there can be so many absolutely unique ways people can impact you in TWO DAYS. My first impression of Sydneysiders, though, was horrible. It's like, darling....come on. Unglue your hand from the horn and roll that finger down; it's not going to make you a bigboy, it's not going to make your wife love you, and it's not going to make your son straight again.

And to random Asian cabbie who can't HELP but scream, "ESS HO! FAK, FAK!!!" Jackface. Knowing the F word doesn't make you fluent in English, and you being in a hurry to nowhere makes you no more worthy to be on the streets.

But then was the lovely man in the middle of the road who heard us wondering where the hell Myer was, then carefully stepped up beside us and started explaining where to go. And the nice man at the Crepe place who moved over and gave us his table because we were making a huge unintentional, good ol Indian fuss :)

Then was the lovely old lady at the antique shop who let us in after closing hours, to let me just gaze at that beautiful antique locket. Have I...GOD, I HAVEN'T TOLD YOU ABOUT IT?! Oh, wow....it's this beautiful gold locket with hand engraving, perfectly done on both sides with different patterns.....with glass inserts pristine and uncracked, all of it absolutely perfect with no blemishes from something as old as the 1800s. A complete blue enamel stripe, with further engraving on both sides....beautiful. I gazed longingly at this perfectly made piece of craftsmanship over two weeks, put off only by the price tag. Depressed, we left the store on Saturday afternoon after learning that she'd be closed on Sunday. Damnit. No more gawking.

It was then that the sheer beauty and generosity of the human spirit struck me yet again, when my own sisters pulled out their credit cards and told me to shut up, they were getting it for me. Hands down, the nicest thing ANYONE'S ever done for me. I mean, seriously.....supposedly, they'd been planning buying it for me since two weeks ago. I love my sisters so much.....watching them go is going to hurt.

I also got a pretty basic black dress and new shoes :) THE SHOES LOOK LIKE COTTON CANDY!

Anyway....JUST when you think the weekend can't possibly get any better, it does :) We decide, against my better judgement, to go under the chop of the merciless hairdresser. Seriously. Hairdressers HATE HATE HATE my hair, or at least the way they've treated it up til this time. Now THIS CHICK.....I think she might be my new Favourite Aussie Person. THANKS TO HER, and her alone, I now have the most ABSOSPIFFINGLY FLYEST FRO in all of Australia. Jester noticed, why else think you that I'm so thrilled? :) As soon as we were done, I said I loved it, and she says, "Of course, I'm a good hairdresser!!

I love this chick. She has the confidence of ME! And she voiced the opinion that some guy who was being a jack in the store should go screw himself :) I LOVE THIS CHICK!!!!!!!

Soooooooo that was my weekend. How was yours? I know, I know, mine RULED....but hey, it was my first great one in AGES. I loved it, and I don't think I've been so happy in a long time.

NEW SANA: (What I actually said).

Great!!! Got a haircut and some shoes! Yours?

One Thing I Will NEVER Understand...

2006-08-10T20:29:00.000+10:00

Is the sheer number of them.

Of beautiful, brilliant females who look in the mirror and cringe.

Who hate what they see.

Who despise the shape of their bodies, the cut of their hair, the size of their lips.

It's not as disgusting as it is just plain sad.

I am not a feministic cow.

But I do firmly believe we are targets of the media and our emotions are played with. It's sad that such a powerful force, womankind, should be so easily manipulable because all of us, without fail, have such poor self esteem. All of us have felt bitter, and unhappy about our personal image, and if you're a girl and haven't, you're either some super brand of alpha female....

Or you're a dirty liar.

Why is it that we allow so much to influence the way we feel about ourselves? I mean, we all speak of and stand for not allowing anyone to tell us what to think, yet an we constantly do just that.

Don't believe me?

"I'm so happy with my curves". No, sweetie, NO. Guys don't dig fat girls!

"Lost all that weight, guys, this is great!" Oh, come on, girlfriend, sticks are hideous. CURVES ARE ALL THE RAGE!

And likewise, curly-haired girls get told straight hair gets the guys, straight haired girls clamour for curls because they get told the exact opposite.

I guess the reason I find it so frustrating is because I've seen such wonderful examples of the the female race completely hate themselves....and heck, I've hated the way I look too.

We all just have to remember that we'll never actually be happy with the way we look unless we realize that somewhere, out there, SOMEONE thinks we're absolutely beautiful. Beauty may not be entirely in the eye of the beholder, some people will ALWAYS be prettier than others, and other people will always be prettier than them.

I think you're absolutely beautiful.

6 to 12 Months, Maybe....

2006-07-30T17:15:00.000+10:00

"Yes, and this couple are really interested. They say that if they can get their house sold, they're definitely going to buy this place."

That was the real estate agent telling my mom that the beautiful house down the street we're hoping to buy might JUST fall into the hands of M and W Lastname.

A vision of a snotty young couple with an inky fingered four year fills my mind. They'd stop with one child, because it would spoil their idyllic lives. They'd both be lawyers and have a nanny, with maybe a white Pomeranian puppy to keep their bored, sculpted and perfect child company.

Don't ask why.

Maybe it was the house itself, the beauty of the settings, the way the mystic passageways tunnelled around the house, the little hatch in the attic where I could see myself sitting and reading...that made me so worried, defensive and judgemental.

"Hey. If you ARE looking for a big house, why don't you check out M and W's? Its...god, it's big. I mean, that is one MASSIVE house, Dr. Kumar. If you want, I could give them a call."

My dad said yes. Internally, I screamed NO, because, good lord, we SO weren't going to make it easier for them to take MY house! NO! What's wrong with you?! And for chrissake, the street's name is DUGDALE avenue! WHO THE HELL WOULD WANT TO LIVE ON DUGDALE AVENUE?! I'll Dug your dale avenue!!!!!

BUUUT, this IS a business, and we were just customers, so we went along anyway.

Well, it WAS a big house.

I walked through the place with my sisters, being snotty and snide, with "No, the floors are the wrong colour." "Dude, how claustrophobic are those narrow PASSAGES?". "What is WITH all the rooms being connected, where's the privacy!". "The bathrooms are miniature, Shama would DIE!".

".....yeah, Dr. Patel's looking after her. She needs dialysis and so we're hoping for a smaller place. She just had that operation and...well....6 to 12 months, if we're...lucky."

I walked out of the house to this conversation and froze.

My upper-middle class lawyers were an elderly retired couple. The wife required dialysis because her aging kidneys just wouldn't function anymore. It was amazing how this devoted old man was willing to stand by his wife this way, and in the last 6 months of her life, try his hardest to make her life as comfortable as possible. He could have, and understandably so, gone, "But M...there isn't much time.....are you sure you want to, you know, go through all this hassle?".

I was so ashamed.

Immediately, I wanted to forget the claustrophobia and weird coloured flooring and rather small bathrooms and just buy the house....to somehow make their lives easier.

I wonder if they realize how much of an effect they've had on me. How they completely erased the selfish, stupid notions I'd been nursing. I wanted a hatch to sit and read the Vienna Prelude, he wanted to make mobility for his sick wife easier.

I was so ashamed.

But you know what? It's things like this that I live for. Moments that show you your shortcomings and help you to expand your humanity. I firmly believe that other people only exist in the world to help you become a better person. And likewise, you exist only to help other people improve.

Oh.

And just so you know, they did have a white puppy. Irony? No, my friend, that's God.

Just Because I've Already Named Our Kids, Doesn't Make Me Obsessive!

2006-07-25T16:41:00.000+10:00

Ok.

I'm finally doing it.

A post that could well get me killed because it's a mean one.

I whine about these ALL THE TIME....but here, in black and white:

10 NAMES I'D NEVER, EVER, EVER IN A MILLION YEARS NAME MY SONS UNLESS FILLED WITH SUDDEN BURSTS OF MURDEROUS, SPITEFUL HATRED

1) George (except you, Clooney my darling. Come to think of it, Clooney is a stupid name too. Like Clowny. Pity you're such a beautiful man)

2) Stanley (hello, please, please beat me up! Please?!)

3) Eugene (reminds me of that little sad kid on Hey Arnold, the unfortunate, unattractive one?)

4) Milton (Hello, I'm Milton, watch my cool trick: *blends into the wallpaper*)

5) Maurice (Lonely 86-year-old seeking female companion. Or male companion. Or companion. Any companion. Any one at all. Anyone?)

6) Boris (It's like, Hi, I'm a fat Russian immigrant.)

7) Gene (I make non-funny jokes about genetics, and my pimples map the constellations!)

8) Jorgen (What's so GREAT about my name is it looks hot, but pronounced like Yurgin!)

9) Gordon (Not so bad, but imagine the horrible nicknames: Gordon the Gormless, Gorgon?)

10) Harry (Hello, I'm a stuck up British schoolboy with a bad haircut. Call me Harry! Or maybe Harr, because I'm so cool!)

and

10 NAMES MY SONS, THE SEXIEST, HOTTEST YOUNG LADS ON THE BLOCK, MAY WELL END UP SPORTING

1) Aidan
2) Zachary
3) Julian
4) Caleb
5) Alexander
6) Aaron
7) Nicholas
8) Jordan
9) Ryan
10) Adrian

No commentary, because I was too overcome with the ultimate uber-hotness of the above fabulous monikers that I couldn't even come up with anything of my usually genius wit. So therefore, words are now spilling incoherently out of my rather large mouth, but then again, what's new?

You see, Jester?! We don't talk very often, but I'd name our kids well!! CALL ME!!!

Because of You

2006-07-17T00:30:00.000+10:00

NOTE!!!

Now, I'm WARNING you because I love you (no, that's a lie, its because I don't want you to think I'm freakretarded and weird and then hate me), this is ONE HELL of an emo post. As in the whole rip-my-bleeding-heart-from-my-body-and-wave-it-pulsating-in-your-face kind of post. You have been adequately warned!!

And secondly, to the brave few who actually DO read this, don't worry. I'm OK. This was a post that begged to be written a long time ago. And plus, most of you knew this already.

And I'll most likely be taking this down because of its delicate nature. But if you DO happen to catch it in time, I really am (or at least will be), OK, so don't worry :)

One more thing: The people in question...this is a direct attack, and it is thinly veiled. This IS, however, only one aspect of their personalities and to deny the fact that they've implemented my life in so many positive ways would be a disgusting display of ungratefulness. But everything written below is something I've personally felt at one point or another, and none of it is made up or exaggerated. Just so you know :)

If I can only ever look at myself in the mirror sideways, it is because of you.

If I feel 10 units of guilt for every one unit of chocolate I eat, it is because of you.

If I constantly get "Aren't you kind of young to be here?" when I go to the gym, it is because of you.

If I allow my body weight in the morning to determine how the rest of my day goes, it is because of you.

If I am afraid to wear something remotely fitting because I'm scared all people will see are my awful contours, it is because of you.

If I can tell you the exact caloric difference between oatmeal WITH bran and oatmeal WITHOUT bran, it is because of you.

If I look at someone I don't know on the street and automatically profile them according to their weight, it is because of you.

If I can be made to feel ashamed or guilty for someone else's long past actions, it is because of you.

If I know more about passive aggression than anyone else my age, it is because of you.

If I have an extremely high mental capacity but I find I don't want it any more because I can remember EVERYTHING YOU SAID, it is because of you.

If I can feel bitterly envious of the people closest to me simply because they're thinner, it is because of you.

If, despite the strength of mind I KNOW I possess, I ever turn out with an eating disorder, it is because of you.

If one question EVERY SINGLE ONE of my friends can remember me asking them is "Are you sure I'm not fat?", it is because of you.

If I know the difference between Atkins, Appeton, Cambridge, General Motors, Fruits Only and Optifast, from PERSONAL EXPERIENCE, it is because of you.

If I end up healthy-looking on the outside, but screwed up on the inside, KNOW THIS, GODDAMNIT, KNOW THIS: IT IS BECAUSE OF YOU.

Oh, SanaBanana, You Genius Word Maker, You!!!

2006-07-09T23:43:00.000+10:00

PREEEEESSSSENNNNNNNTINGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!

SANA BANANA'S BRAND NEW WORD!!!!!!

Er.

Ok.

Somehow, that seems kind of anticlimactic. I HAVE to learn how to build up suspense properly instead of blundering along straight to the point.

Ok. Let's think how to RECTIFY this now, let's think good and hard.

I, OF COURSE, BEING A GENIUS, HAVE FIGURED IT OUT!!!

You're going to pretend that I'm actually a lot funnier and smarter than I really am, and somehow, force yourself to believe it. You will then feed this load of crap to all your friends, so that they TOO will be under the impression that I'm really NOT a basket case.

SEE WHAT GENIUS PLANS I CREATE?!

Of course you do.

Getting to the point, this is actually a blog about why leaving meaningless tags on every webbie you go to can actually be BENEFICIAL in some way.

To yourself, I mean. We all know the world pines for my hilariously, astonishingly witty repartee, that I leave in disgustingly huge quantities on people's tagboards.

But at times, being such a cleverly cleverclev DOES get irritating, and self-gain is REQUIRED to allow one to make sense of one's empty, pathetic, blog-hunting and taggering existence.

For all of you who currently wonder what in the name of almighty SFUFF I am lunatically ranting about.....

I made a new word and it sprung to my immensely large brain while leaving a tag at Chocolatte, which I ALSO recently bared my hole-filled soul at.

End of story, and I DID try to drag it out for as long as possible but I kind of got lost half way.

Remember what we talked about earlier, about you pretending that I rock your socks? Yeah, let's keep on with that.

WITH THAT, I GIVE YOU:

kadootzie - defn: The rear end. Le derriere. Ze buttocks. Whatever way you choose to spin in, FROM NOW ON, you shall be forced, of course, to copycat my masterstroke of linguistic INTELLIGIOSITY.

Thus, with this entry, I introduce you, O Young Kadootzie, to the likes of Sfuff, MatMat, Meh?, Squee, Meaahaah, Shizelle and her cousin Crapizzelle, Ortokay and, finally, Squck, your siblings in the new, scary world of Sanaspeak. Yes, I know. You are dazzled at the cleverness and creativity of the name. What can I say, people, it's a gift granted to few.

Am I high?

No. I'd LOVE to say I am, because people seem to excuse sheer, seamless idiocy rather well when told that a person is mentally skewered.

I, however, am proud to announce that this sudden blast of moron comes straight from within the very folds of my black, stone heart.

Plus, I'm not cool enough to be high.

:( Now you've depressed me. I hate you.

Go make yourself useful and comment.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a complete and total NONSENSE post and if you were brave, stupid or dotingly loyal enough to read it, kudos to you and kindly consult a shrink immediately. The author promises she'll be back with more soul-bearing, self-validating, whinefest material soon.

Currently though, she's dealing with three big assignments that need finishing. Physics, I hope you die a slow, painful, murderous, truly EXCRUCIATING DEATH

With that pleasant sentiment, kindly do not hate me and realize that AT TIMES, even Sana can be normal.

Toodles!