One thing after another

I never thought of this before but come to think of it, I never mentioned this blog to anyone anymore. Not to my new friends. Not during NS, not during matriculation, definitely not while I'm in KUTPM. I don't even know why. Just because. There's no reason to expose yourself further to the world. There shouldn't be any. To me, the only thing that matters, is knowing. How things happened, how much you've changed. Realising how immature you once were, and who you are now. Self-realisation.
I'm drained. Classes started at 8 am and ended at 4.30 pm. Spend the whole day in Annex. Today, I went back to my room on purpose to use the toilet. Ha! Didn't want last week's incident to happen again. I drank plenty of PLAIN WATER that day. It was raining heavily and the class was air-conditioned. Add all those, it could only mean one thing; I needed to pee, badly. I did survey the toilet there, twice but I couldn't bring myself to use it. God knows how picky I am. The next gap of class was at 2 pm-the clock showed 1.40 pm. There's no way I could wait for another 20 minutes. Asking the lecturer to excuse me so I could pee was a definite no. There was no way out ( I love exaggerating don't I?), so I stood up, umbrella in hand and blatantly walked past the lecturer who was, at that time, was still lecturing. The fact that he was standing in front of the door didn't help. That was rude, yea, but I was out of options. I braced the 15 minutes walk to my room and walah, mission accomplished.
Okay, I'm tired. Sleep sleep.

Golden Chiffon

Orientation week had ended last Saturday. It was..well, it sucked a little as how orientation should be. All those briefings, bleh. And that birthday gimmick on Friday, haha. I was scared to death, thanks to the fcs who actually yelled at us. Turned out the whole thing was a gimmick. I would have been pleasantly suprised had I not knew it earlier; they did the same gimmick in NS. Jauh perjalanan, luas pemandangan. Lol. But it was still nice of them.
Currently I have 2 roommates and 5 housemates. Now, I have 6 kakak where as before this I had none. The others are all 20 years old. Besides me and Aisyah that is. We're both 18 (at last I can say that! =P) I never thought I would say this but but but..too much air-condition sucks- our place is 24/7 air-conditioned. I never felt more dehydrated in my life. Be careful of what you wish for. Haha. Nevermind that.
I'm only taking 3 subjects since it's a short semester. Islamic Studies *groan* ,Malaysian Studies *double groan* and Health Science. In other words, it's an easy semester. At least final exams are before Hari Raya. Yay!
I've met Effa! Yayyyyy. Couldn't believe meeting her here. It's like another scene from Miri.

My first day of being 18. The birthday celebrations, the birthday songs, the birthday wishes. Even so, it was the loneliest birthday I've ever had. Smiling smiles and faking excitement I didn't feel when my housemates "suprised" me with a birthday cake. Listening to Ctah's and Lala's shrill voices singing a birthday song on the phone. Listening to my Dad's own version of Birthday Song. I longed to be at home. To have my usual birthday dinner, and cake, and presents and being the Queen of the house for the day. I longed to celebrate it with my family. None others. I wanted to wake up, knowing the moment I stepped out of my room Dad would shower me with hugs and kisses as if I was a 7-year old. I wanted all those.
Last time, I would rack my brain trying to think of what I wanted for my birthday present. Yesterday, all I thought was how hard it was to be 18. From 17 to 18. That one year period. It was long. It was rocky. It was not beautiful. Nevertheless, I'm here. I still have a long journey ahead of me. And I want to go through it. Not because I need to, but because I want to. I want to walk that path even if it's difficult. I never wanted anything so badly in my life. I want this.

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice,a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979)

Reflection

Imagine everyone; your parents' friends, your family, watching you grow up. Every single step you take is noted. Every single flaw. It's as if you're on a stage, and you have an audience in front of you. You can't afford to make mistakes. You can't afford to screw up. Everything has to be perfect. And perfection becomes a part of you because that's what you grew up with. You need the praises, you need the attention. You need people to tell you you've done well, after everything you've tried to accomplish.

Maybe now, I'm beginning to understand.

Let the wind blows

Do you really care or were you just pretending all this while?

That's the question I feel like spitting at her.
But I didn't.
It's easier to avoid eye contact and limit my acquaintance.

How could anyone do that? No, not wondering. More like furiously yelling.

My heart refused to believe it. That was then. Now my mind tells me otherwise.
Just thinking that, knowing the chances are there stabs me in the heart.
To think I've been finding excuses for her. To think I've been defending her.
Now I just feel dirty. Now I just feel used.
There's always a loophole. That's what I believed on the first time.
Any human could make mistakes. But to ignore on the second time.
When the proof is dancing naked in front of me.
That would make me a downright fool.
I would have given anything to prove it wrong. That it's just one ugly mistake.
But it's not. It never was. That's what's so disappointing.

Ctah taught me it's not how long you know someone that matters, it's how well you know them. You could never know someone well enough, no matter how long. Not 18 years. Not 50 years. Not even a whole lifetime. Every part of me wants to feel angry. But all I feel, is hurt. And all I have are bitter tears. Pathetic.
Knowing now the smiles and the warmth are fake. She's one hell of an actress, that I can give her. Haha. Now I don't know who to trust. I suck when it comes to judging people. Big time. It's time to tread carefully.

Even now, they refuse to do anything. Letting bygones be bygones. Acting as if it never happened.

I didn't understand why.

But now, I think I do.

It's called sacrifices.

Beyond The Whites

The first day of August. The eighth month into the year of 2007. Finally it's here. A year since the 1st of August 2006. I wonder what happened back then. Or the year before that. I couldn't remember. Our lives are pieces of dreams sewn together. There are dreams we remember. There are dreams we don't. Dreams which could keep us up the whole night. Or dreams we don't even know we had.
They say dreams are parts of our subconcious minds. The secrets which dwell within ourselves. Secrets we don't even know exist. The opposite of reality. What happened in dreams normally don't occur in real life. Well, that's why they're called dreams aren't they?
Somewhere between the fake and fact. Fantasies which reflect reality. Reachable but merely. It doesn't matter. In the end they remain what they are. Just dreams. They're not real. No matter how much we yearn them to be. They're just not real. Believe that.
But... dreams give us hopes don't they? A tiny flicker of hope. When you're left with nothing, and you have your dreams with you. And they make what unreachable seems...reachable. They make life's cruel games seem less cruel. Those are what dreams potray. Even if they're fake, they are all we have. They are all I have.
August is, has always been, magical to me. Maybe I've watched too many disney cartoons and movies, and oh, there's harry potter and Diana Wynne Jones's fiction stories, and the fairytales books, and Wicca. And a lot more. But August is magical. In glitters and in stars. The fact that it's not exactly the middle month, and not quite the end of the year. And for Malaysians we're guaranteed one day of holiday at the end of the month, which is a bonus point except for all the lame celebrations and having to pretend just how patriotic we are. No pun intended. But hey, one blank day stretches ahead of me? Count me in. Flag waving or no flag waving.
Nah, not because of all those. It's just nice seeing people happy. Even if it's just for a day. Even if it's just for a smile.
God, this peanut butter AND strawberry sandwhich totally ruined my dinner. Now I've to make a new one. Peanut butter doesn't go with strawberry. Sheesh. Where's the banana?
Tata :)