what is it that makes people so hard to talk to each other?

What is it that makes you and me so hard to talk to each other?
Why is it that when I open my mouth to say something, it doesn't come out the way I want to be?
Why is it,then, when you don't talk to me I feel angry but when you do talk, the things you said are the things best left unsaid?



After weeks and weeks of contemplating on how to tackle down this million dollar question, I can only come up with a few reasons, on WHY it's hard to communicate.



It could be due to the fear of letting your thoughts be known to others. The fear of being judged, the fear of the words itself that might slip from our lips (intentionally or unintentionally), and once the words come out, fearing upon the effect and impact they inflict on the person (or even ourselves). Think freedom of expression. We have the right to express and yet, how many of us are brave enough to fully express ourselves? By expressing ourselves, we make ourself vulnerable. Words can expose a man's soul. Although actions speaks louder than words, but words will be the sole instrument to justify the actions of a man. So, the problem lies perhaps, on our fear of being judged through the words.



Say what you need to say.




Words,words,words words. Nothing but mere words. Yet these alphabets that form a string of word is our previllage that is bestowed upon us. With words we can form an unspeakable bond with another human beings. With words we can make a change, with words our power to do something and take action can be strengthened. Hence, we need to speak UP. Because through words we change something in the air, in the situation at a certain moment. Words change mood, actions, attitude, thoughts and basically anything and everything. But we have so many words, each so different from the other. One same word from a person spoken by another could bring different effects,another meaning,catalysing different feelings, moods and opinions. This is what we call COMMUNICATING with one another.
And THAT, is what makes it so difficult for people to talk to each other. Because talking (voicing out mere words) is entirely different from communicating. I can talk and not communicate, if my words are void of any meanings. Empty like a shell. I can talk and you may view it, taking it from a different angle and perspective, thus changing the entire meanings of my words. How can we communicate thus? If every single words I said fall on your deaf ears? Or if the words I never have said would still be formed from the fruitation of your biasness and personal thoughts?
It's so hard to talk to another human being, due to the difference in perceptions.




The power of words; The pen is mightier than the sword.


"Why didn't you ask me?"
"I was afraid to, frankly."
~ Oliver Barret,Jennifer Cavilleri.


"You told my mom we were not ready to have children yet. You might as well have told her that I'm a lesbian!" ~ P.s I love you.

skinny is the new beautiful

Last week, I bought Cleo (fashion magazine). My friends and I gathered around it in a circle on my bed and we flipped through the pages enthusiasticly. It was after all, the 50 eligible bachelors issue. Heheh... However, the so-called eligible bachelors were rather disappointing. The lip gloss on their lips was quite obvious. Then, as we oohed and aaahed over beautiful pictures of female models in their designer dresses and expensive make-ups I noticed that all the models in the magazines are very skinny. I don't mean model-skinny, I mean anorexic skinny. I look at those advertisements and wondered aloud how these skeletal figures can be considered beautiful. Besides that, everyday in fact, i stumbled across advertisements about weight reducing pills, Osim machines which vibrate the fats off of your body and Atkins diet.

When i was little, I used to hear people say this a lot:
"I want big house, big cars, big tv, and a big spouse."
Whatever happened to having 'big spouse'?
I think nowadays, it's all about being skinny. We have skinny jeans, slim-fit clothes... Heck, even electronic devices are competing to be thin and small!!
Flat screens, ipod nano, motorola razor which won't bulge in your pocket, etc etc~~

The truth is,we only think skinny equals beauty because we are surrounded by influences that tell us this. Of course, mass media is not the only thing that reinforces this. Family members,peer pressure and our surroundings could be the the reasons too. Human beings can be too greedy sometimes. We want to have everything but even if we have all the things in the world, we would go out for space exploration to get what's out there in Mars too.

"Scarcity is the limited resources to satisfy unlimited wants." -Economics.

People in other parts of the world are struggling to find a morsel of food to feed off their starvation and yet here, young girls stand in front of their mirror crying out and say "I'm fat!" when they can no longer fit into an XS sized t-shirts. Instead of looking in the mirror in self-obsession , why not take a look at the picture of starving kids in Africa. If we can muster compassion for them,then let's stop this ridiculous notion of turning anorexic or bulimic.

Oh, and Barbie dolls may look pretty, but they're plastic. I even found an amusing fact that if barbies were a real human being, they can't walk or even stand up straight because the size of their head is too big for their small neck and their dainty feet could not support their massive.... um, bossoms. haha... =p

So, to girls out there: EAT. =)

trapped.

Alone in my room only with an open Chemistry book on the desk as my companion.

Another message from my friend asking me why I did not replied her message last night. Another question from my parents asking me when will be given a semestar break so that we can go to Pulau Redang together.

I am on an emotional roller-coaster ride. I'm up then down. Sometimes I get so high, I'm on cloud nine. Dizzy with excitement and a rush of adrenaline. Later, I fall into what seem like a dark bottomless pit that send me screaming at the top of my lungs. Screaming in despair and hopelessness. Praying for God to help me pull through.

Scared of not doing enough. Of not getting enough. I used to be so carefree. My mind was free.

I was free.

I look at myself in the mirror now and I feel suffocated. I can't run away.

tell me.

I was playing football with my roomate on one morning. The weather was brilliant! Not too hot and not too cold. We jogged around the park twice and we felt really great. That guilt of eating maruku last night while watching The Hills Have Eyes was finally banished from our conscience. The 9 o'clock sun was getting hotter, scorching our skins and evaporating our sweats. We decided to head back home. THEN, suddenly... WE saw one person we didn't quite like. NOt hate, it's just that that person annoys us so darned much.

I said "Uh-oh."
And i can tell my roomate was groaning inwardly. She was looking down to the ground,wishing,i was pretty sure to be anywhere but there at that particular moment.
And that person said,
"Why are u guys playing football?"
What a question. I replied, "We exercise!!" and smiled sheepishly.
"Yeah, so why are you playing football?"he asked again.
I blinked. Once, then twice.
How thick can this person be?
"Because... It's fun...?" My answer sounded like a question. Maybe because i didn't know what kind of answer he wanted.
Irritated, he said, "No, i mean, if you want to exercise, then why are you playing football? You girls should play netball! Why did you go and play football?"

I swear i could have screamed "YOU SEXIST -------!!!"
But I just stood there and smiled politely.
My ma and abah would be so proud of me because I have grown up into one sugar-spice-and-everything-nice girl.*gag* Finally my sharp tongue has lose its edges. Yaay.
None of those wise-cracks anymore. *sigh*


So what if i want to play football?
You can't tell me what to do.
I could have played rugby if i wanted and it wouldn't have affected him in any way at all.
You tell me what to do, I'll tell you this:

Mind your own business. =D

Of heels and feeling like a heel

I shan't keep it a secret anymore..

Have you ever tried being a goalpost?
You read that right, goalpost, not goalkeeper. If you want a first-hand experience, ask Hani and Azreen. They have been there, done that. The only hitch is that they did not do it voluntarily. They were at the wrong place at a wrong time apparently because this striker was in one of her 'moods'.

The striker being me of course.

The story went like this,
Hani and Azreen were walking together down the corridor. They were like peas in a pod. Like B1 and B2 of 'Bananas In Pyjamas'. The sky was blue and the soft wind was like a mother's caressing hand. Life is beautiful for Azreen and Hani when suddenly an object came flying with a velocity of 100km/h towards them. The object flew between Hani's face and Azreen's head. Hani stopped dead in her track. Azreen, who only seconds ago was chattering away happily was struck dumb. Then, when both had recovered from their shock, they turned to look at the 'flying object' now lying in its battered state on the cold floor.

A high heel.

No, a full 2-inches wedge to be specific.

Slowly, they turned to look at their assaulter...

And there was me.
Me, with fire in my eyes and a grimace on my face.

Okay, full stop.

Now we rewind to a few minutes before the 'flying wedge' incident happened.
Miss Say announced that class is dismissed. A girl went out of the class with a handphone clasped tightly in her hand. Bubbling with anger and exasperation, she made a phone call and talked for one whole minute before she finally snapped and ended the conversation. Now ballistic, she tried to keep her anger in check. But, oh how unbearable it was, for she had been keeping her anger inside for days. She paced the corridor with fury in every step she took. She paced and paced and paced aimlessly until suddenly she came to realise that her right wedge was no longer under her foot. Staring ahead she saw Hani and Azreen rooted to the spot a few metres in front of her with 'it' lying on the floor not far from where they stood.

Oh.

=__=

I'm sorry dear Hani and Azreen!!!! Believe me, i did not mean to make you two the goalposts to my flying footwear. I could not believe i did it too. It was almost an involuntary action.

All i can say is, put the blame on my Bugis heritage that somehow gives me (and my whole family) the tendency to throw things when angry and blame that someone who caused me to go she-hulk like that.
To my friend who caused this outburst of temper, I seriously care for you but HONESTLY, stop clinging on to me like a LEECH!!!!!! Just stop! Please start treating me like a friend, instead of a boyfriend because i am sooo NOt.your.boyfriend.
Come on lady. 10 missed calls in a day is unhealthy. If my number could not be reached, it means I'm seriously in the middle of something for God's sake.
With a friend who behaves like this, I don't even need a jealous, needy boyfriend. *sigh.....*

I feel like a heel though.
Lesson learned: When angry, it's best to remember God and perform the ablutions or 'wudhu' as the Muslim say it.


p/s: To Hanibucks and Baskin azira, I give u my deepest apology. You were the innocent bystanders. Now we have found a new weapon for 'Bowling for Kbu' and it's not a gun.


High heels are deadlier. =__=

looking from that window.

I was feeling ecstatic throughout the day.

I went to sleep the night before with a smile on my lips and a fast beating of the heart. My joy could not be contained. Anticipation kept me from sleeping but when i did finally fall asleep, my dream was one that made me open my eyes the next morning with traces of smile that lingered on.

Mid day. And I was still heady with the joyful feelings I had inside. Even chocking on a sharp odour that stung the nose and made my eyes water in one of the classes had zero effect. I was immuned.

The sky darkened. Night fell. With a child-like demeanour, i waited impatiently at the front door. My cellphone rang. Once, then twice. But there was no need to answer that call, because i could see them from the spot where i stood. Like billions of fireworks that went up, up and away to the scattered stars above, that was how i felt when i greeted them. We laughed a little, we talked a little. What lasted for an hour felt like seconds. In a blink of an eye, they had to set out for their journey again.

"Send my regards to Nadiah. Have fun in Bandung!"

I said with enthusiasm I did not feel. A quick hug and pecks on the cheeks, then they were gone.

With heavy steps i climbed the stairs, then i went straight to the window and saw my father driving the car out of the gate.

Cold metals pressed on my cheeks, cooling them. However,something warm trickled down that coldness and my shoulders shook with the force of trying to keep it all inside.

They left me with a clear box filled with water. I peeked inside and saw a green little creature nibbling on a floating piece of cabbage. I sighed and thought,

"If a tortoise is the closest thing i can get now as a reminder of my own flesh and blood, then i shall cherish it with all my heart."

Back from a deep slumber, a sudden gush of chill air blew from the wide window. I opened my eyes to the sound of a steady drip, like a piano staccatto.
Hasty, because i was running late for class, i ran out with the cold wind blowing on my face. The smell of wet grass permeated the air as heaven's tears soaked my blouse wet.
Small drops of clear water on my spectacles obscured my vision. My left foot, landed in a patch of sticky soil. Swearing, i tilted my head to regard the heaven above.
Above, it was as if a painter had painted the pure, white clouds with too many combinations of colour, that only the darker ones stood out. Grey, black and hazy purple.
Glancing again at the ticking device on my right wrist, i took big steps in my heels as a song from Barry Manilow sounded in my head.
"Raindrops keep falling on my head, they keep falling....."
Finally, upon reaching a shelter from receiving the generous pearl-like gifts from the sky above, a thought popped in my mind.

"I need Nescafe."


p/s: I'm no e.e cummings. So, forgive my not so creative literature.

~nad~

be spontaneous

This week, i was told that i should be more spontaneous.
This was told to me after i had delivered my 3 minutes and 40 sec long speech. *sigh*
I realised that there was a hint of truth in what Mr. Derick said. For a person who talks a lot all the time and almost about every matter there is to talk about, spontaneity works best for me when the time comes to deliver a speech. Maybe i was trying too hard- i ended up making one whole page of speech, and tried in vain to memorise it, but in the end i could hardly even remember anything i wrote! Hahaha... The irony is, sometimes things work better for me when i wasn't even trying too hard. Sometimes, that is. Most of the time however, my spontaneity only spells more trouble for me.


My friends and i decided to go to a bazaar one day during the fasting month last year. We were so confident that we could figure out the way to the bazaar ourselves. Consequently, without really giving much thought about it, the three of us took bicycles to get there. Our optimism and spontaneity backfired. We got lost, but we kept on going! (Going back home without fried kuey teow and murtabak for breaking fast was most definitely OUT of the question. It never even crossed our minds.) After a few phone calls, and direction from a shop keeper around that area, we successfully found our way to the bazaar! Yaay!
We even ran into the boys from house 16.
However, nothing had ever prepared us for the state of the bazaar.
It was... pathetic, i think. The bazaar was right beside a huge ditch, and there were run down houses opposite the huge ditch. We did not expect the bazaar to be in a run-down area. We didn't even think there could be a slum in the middle of Bandar Utama, for god's sake.


Worse still, men around us kept giving creepy stares at us. Did we really look that out of place? Or, were they just being creepy? Man, travelling with just a bunch of girls is hard! And quite unsafe i have to say......Especially in places such as THIS.
The worst part however, was when i lost the key for my bicycle chain. There was noooooo way i was going to leave that bicycle at that place. (The bicycle was not even mine, and that made the problem more complicated.)
It was getting dark. We were starving and weary from cycling. Aaannnd it had started to drizzle. I was becoming frantic and i thought,
"Great..... Even the weather is against me.. Why oh, why???"
The boys from house 16 was our ray of shining light. Our sole hope.
THANk God they helped us to get through the whole thing.

In conclusion, only be spontaneous at an appropriate situation. After that incident, i thought to myself, "Never Again."

mUse and musings

not this mUSE!

we are not marilyn monroe who goes "oooh~", like that.

privacy is important.

1.muse;

- something regarded as the source of artistic inspiration

2.muse;

-to consider thoughtfully or at length,ponder

i - the act or state of musing;reverie.

ii- wonder

One of the most influential people in my life is my brother. You could say that he is my muse for he was the one who inspired me in many ways since i was little. I tried to imagine my life without him. Not good! Because i would never be who i am today if it was not because of him. My dream of becoming the next Hayao Miyazaki was inspired by him. (and Miyazaki's work too, of course.) My brother is quite the artist himself. I have always liked his silly drawings and sketches. I thought he had a style of his own. I tried to be like him too. The only problem is, i could not draw as good as him. Hence, i always copied another artist.My brother liked the fact that i learned how to draw although i couldn't at first, but he always told me "Now, you're just copying what other people do. But what you really need to do is establish your own style. Make it unique. Make it your own."

From then on, i tried to not follow the stereotype. I took his advice to heart. So the cool kids at school wear Converse and All-Star to school. Why should i be like them? They are all the same, they look same. "Backpacks are for 2nd grader, high schoolers only wear slingbacks to school. If they're not designer's brand, then you aren't cool."

Why should i be yet another cliche?

But now that he doesn't draw anymore, he plays the guitar. Day and night, and night and day.

Home is much quieter when he's not around. Instead of the usual ticking of the clock sound at 3am in the morning, we hear Jimi Hendrix or Dream Theater blasting from his room.

Here's the sad part. I don't really know how to play musical instruments. Even my keyboarding skill sucks. My brother encouraged me to continue learning how to play the keyboard because according to him, "Maybe we can form an indie group or something."

Yeah,right. All my siblings as musicians? Like my parents would allow that!

As if we could be the next The Corrs. Bro would play the guitar, my sis would be the drummer, me the horrible keyboardist and singer, yayang would play the flute.

He has so many dreams and hope. Some may even sound ridiculous, but i admire him so much because he dares to dream. What dreams he could not achieve, i make them my inspirations. My muse.

By the way, thank you Ikram for making me listen to Coheed and foreign artists like Alizee and Superbus. Thank you for letting me know who Frank Zappa and Satriani are. I also appreciate your efforts in making sure i watch all the gross guy movies. bah.

Moving on, i'd like to talk about this one important issue about living together with your housemates. Respecting each other's privacy is important i think. In order to live together,we should have a mutual agreement on something if not everything. Right? Here, i'm not complaining about my housemates. I think they are quite decent, nothing to complain about really! =)

Just musing aloud, i think one common problem one might face when living together with housemates is when one's housemates bring friends home. I know it's not that big a deal, but out of respect for your housemates, inform your housemates that a friend is in the house.

Somewhere along the line of "My friend is coming, you might wanna close your door or maybe wear something decent."

This is to ensure that none of your housemates embarass themselves in front of the guest of course! Imagine,if one were wearing just shorts or God forbid, scantily clad in a towel....

One just might die of mortification!!! (o__O)

I am glad though that that never occured here at my student house. Thank you God for giving me such polite and well-mannered housemates~~ =)

Once or twice when i was, you could say,not quite presentable to the eyes of strangers, and my kind housemates informed me to 'hide' myself away~

Kind housemates, i am eternally grateful for respecting not only my privacy but also other people's.

I shall now click 'publish post'.

Until next week! tata~~ =)

MATh= mad+sad

It has been a stressful week for me.....

i'm in a pre-exam mode where i'm suppose to be concentrating on all the subjects and really brush up my weaknesses.

Everyday, i enter the class with the determination to NOT fall asleep, or feel bored, or get distracted by the usual hunger or the cold temperature of the room *brrr~ shiver* OR daydream..

So far, i think i have managed to get rid of the distraction of being hungry in the middle of the class, (lost of appetite due to stress)

Mentos,a cup of hot Nescafe before class,a few slaps on the face and pinching the back of my hand under the desk get me going without feeling too sleepy.

Clasping my cold hands between my knees keep me quite warm to get through the 5 hours of classes.

Boredom and daydream - cure yet to be discovered.

However, the biggest problem i have encountered in class is of course,

The Inability of understanding certain subjects in class.

*big sigh*

Especially Math.

Oh, how MAthematics frustrates me! I have to say though, as much as Chemistry confuses me, nothing can ever beat Mathematics for me.

I'm not blaming the lecturers. Believe me, i have been through this same situation countless times before and i am convinced (and have already accepted) that the problem certainly lies within myself.

Evidence A: I got sent to a tuition class when i was in standard 2 because i got a C- in maths dammit! Standard 2!! A simple division and problem solving questions, and yet already a C- scribbled across the report card.

Evidence B: observe the constipated facial expression that's oh-so-obvious on my face in Math class.

doing mathematics exercises in my room is like taking a medicine with really bad side-effects:

1. hyperventilation

2. dizzy

3. severe mood swings

4. unexpected and explotive reactions

(screaming first, boxing the pillows second, followed by an attempt of smothering oneself with the mangled pillows, disastrous attempt of mimicking Mariah Carey's high-pitched notes)

5. irritation around the eyes which causes them to water

Maths turn me into a watering pot. (yes, i admit that i'm a crybaby when it comes to this.)

What makes me angry the most is, not able to do maths does not make me hate maths.

it just makes me hate myself for not being able to do it.

it makes me think about negative things like,

"All my siblings are good at it. Why am i the only one left out? What's wrong with me??"

sometimes, i still calculate using my toes... it's pathetic.

i am ashamed of myself for not being good at it. that is why i keep working hard for it. i believe that if i persist and continue to work harder and harder and harder, eventually i will be able to do it with one eyes closed.

if mathematics were a person, i want to be able to say to his face,

"Give it all to me! I'm gonna bring it on bee-yatch."

japanese story

i actually like japanese story.

how weird is that?


i have to admit, it was not a love at first sight for me. because when i first saw the movie,i was a bit CONFUSED.
like when hiromitsu died, i could not really fathom what was happening.
you could say that i was more shocked and totally in disbelief when hiromitsu died,more so than Sandy as if i was the one having an affair with him and have an emotional attachment to him!
i knew that he was going to die in the end,(my friends kind of foretold me beforehand),
but i DID NOT expect him to die from diving into a billabong, IN his swimming trunk, WHEN Sandy's bimbotic and excited laughter still echoing in the air at the time of the incident!! (it's so tragic, it made me laugh out loud thinking about it)

*sigh* how twisted i am to laugh at tragedies and not at jokes.

sick

sick

sick

however, after looking through the questions asked about japanese story,
and the discussion in class,
i find it rather............

beautiful and romantic, in a way.

there is certainly nothing romantic about getting involved with a married man,
and there's nothing beautiful about a death of a loved one,
but i did wonder,
if hiromitsu had lived, and went back to japan to his family,
i WOULD really hate the movie then.
the fact that he died, in love with Sandy and so changed from being rigid and reserved to someone who is expressive and i think, true to himself finally
is kind of a perfect ending.

it's romantic that the love he and Sandy share is like forbidden love.
they were so wrong for each other, it's only right that they deserve each other.

oh, and there's one more thing.
in class, mr derick said this,

"you should see the beauty in flaws"

i like this idea of seeing something more than the exterior,
of understanding something in depth rather than being discriminating from what we can see only from the surface .
i think i like it so much because i agree that nothing is ever what it seems like.


in art class, i study colours,
and pink, is not really pink.
it's the mixture of red and white,
and other tints of pink may be combinations of rose and white, magenta and white or even orange and white.
so you see, there's even orange, in the colour pink.
my point is,you look at a colour,
and you decided straight away that it's, let say PINK,
but it's not pink.
it's red.
it's also white.
it's magenta.
it's burgundy.

so you see, mr derick,
i actually do understand the concept of stripping an issue layer by layer,
i just have problem writing it down and constructing it so that
it is comprehendable and understandable.
*sigh*
god help me with structuring essays.
i'm bad at organizing things or ideas even.

i'm a messy person, or, should i say,

messed up???

(i like japanese story for God's sake!)

we,the archi. one students~ =)

huallo~ again..
here's something about my fellow classmates:

they are all wolves in disguise of lambs.

i still remember when i first enter my class and i thought,
"wow, here i am thinking that maybe with boys, the class would be livelier..."

it was wrong of me to think like that.. how very mistaken i was.
but i came from an all-girl school and WE were extremely noisy!!
so i thought, with the boys together, the decibel level and the intensity of the sound in the class would be even higher.
(Miss Say would be so proud of me for actually thinking of physics while writing a post in an academic blog for English lesson.)


i have to admit, i kind of envy the other architecture class at first because they were so much livelier than we were.
my room mate,Ya is from the archi. two and i remember distinctly telling her that i swear i can actually hear a lizard 'tsk-tsk-ing' in the class because my class was very and i mean , VERY quiet. (I'm sorry mr Derick, i really don't know the onomatopoeia for lizards!!!)


forgive me my fellow classmates, but i think i have changed my mind!


i think i am rather fond of the environment of my class.
it's very peaceful...
and yes, we are quiet in class (as we were told numerous times),
but i find that this kind of peace and silence are so difficult to find elsewhere!
give silence a chance!
here, in house 69, my housemates and i yell and scream and shout so loud that i believe we can awaken the dead from the grave. the dogs in my neighbourhood would bark like a mad dog from the noise we made. i believe i also saw the guard sitting outside our house shook his head several times whenever we talked too excitedly or too loud. (he must be thinking, "i can't believe this. Girls behave like a bunch of noisy baboons!!) oops, i mean, cute baboons.
My housemates will kill me for this....

anyway, my point is,
it's good to have a quiet and peaceful class. I know my eardrum will thank me for it.
besides, eventhough all of us barely spoke a word in class (it's like we have diamonds in our mouths),
we are not that quiet, really.
you'll be surprised.

but i think what i like the most about our class is,
amidst the cricket-cricking-silence, suddenly someone would crack a darn funny joke.


Woei song would suddenly say something hilarious when we are having economics.
Calvin would give a witty comment on something out of the blue,
Nic usually says something crazy when the mood is right,
Jinn Jyh gingerly grins to what Calvin and Nic say.
when Miss Jasreena ask a volunteer to write on the whiteboard,
Firdaus would say "Izzat", then Izzat will say "Aqil", and Aqil will say "Aizat", then
Aizat points to the one sitting beside him and say "Hafeez", but Hafeez points to Woei song and said "Woei song".
In the end, Hafeez had to go in front.


Other times,Izzati,Mia and i would exchange glances when we cannot make head or tails from what the lecturer was saying.
Sometimes, all of us would look at each other faces and exchange secretive smiles on an inside joke that only we, archi. one know.

There are more things that i like about this class.
If i put it all here,it's going to sound really silly. It's just all the small things that we do together, but i like it all the same.


I'm going to miss my classmates a lot when Ausmat ends.
Hopefully all of us can make it together!!
i'll pray for our success!


That's it for now~ *grins*

the curious case of benjamin button

a blind man, named Gateau was a clockmaker

he was commisioned to create a clock

to hang in the New Orleans train station

one day, he received the news of his son's death in World War 1

devastated,

but he continued to work on his clock

finally,

his job was done

the hands of the clock moved backwards

instead of forward

he intentionally designed it so,

in the hopes of bringing back those who died in the war.

That was the introduction to The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

It took me two days to finish it, the story was long.

I started at 12.30 am, stopped at 2.

The next morning, i continued it again.

the movie was.................

unique.

there's no other words for it.

to be sure, the movie is a bit draggy.

but i think it was because the director tried to stress on the emotions and expressions of the characters.

and i think, it was a good try there!

No fun if i tell you about the movie here, you have it watch it yourself.

I am going to tell you about the gist of the story though. =)

Mind you, the movie can be a little disturbing to some.

A boy, born under unusual circumstances.

His mother died giving birth to him,and he was born ugly.

His father thought him a monster and abandoned him

on the porch of an old folks home.

This boy named Benjamin was unlike any other.

He was born old instead young.

To say that he was matured beyond his years was an understatement of the century.

"I'm seven, although i look a lot older." said Benjamin.

He meant it literally.

Well,that's all.

i know i don't write brilliant movie reviews, but i'm not gonna give anything away here!

The movie is not even out in the cinemas yet.

But if you're lucky, go find the dvd.

It's worth watching, trust me.

Uhm, when i say worth watching, i didn't mean that you will necessarily love it.

Or like it, even.

But the movie will make you think.

It opens your mind and make you grateful for what you have.

Some people don't have it easy.

Some people are born handicapped, lame,blind or dumb.

Some are born old.

And i know i'm lucky to be growing in a normal condition and environment.

But it astounds me how some can't even sympathise or empathise with those who are unlucky.

I guess some people just can't relate to other people's feelings.

'Nuff said!

Now i got to go do a mountain of homeworks.

They have been abandoned for days now.

Time to get back to them!

Ciao~

uh-oh! one spoiler coming.

SPOILERS.
one.short.word.
one.simple.annoying.word.
Okay, now who doesn't like spoilers, raise up your hand!
What about you Mr. Derrick?
Do you hate it as much as i do?
Does anyone here despise, loath, resent, and dislike it immensely as much as i do?
Because i DO.

I hate any form and any kind of spoilers.

For instance;
The setting- Your bedroom.
Activity-Reading a new book you just bought. It was a best-seller mystery.

Then SUDDENLY, your friend barged into your room when the plots were getting reaaaally good. Adrenaline was rushing, heart almost jumped out of your chest,sweaty palms. You were fidgetting so frequently, you resembled a twitchy bird.
Your friend said, "Hey, isn't that ------! Why, i've read the book! In the end, the bla-bla bla died and then whatshisname the main character committed suicide, oh, and the murderer got away."


um,HELLO!!!


Puh-lease!
Uh, thanks for giving a complete book review including the ending part!
Very kind of you.
Next time, i'm going to tie you up and chop you into 88 pieces with a chainsaw, make a barbeque out of you, put some mustard in, and then feed you to the piranhas.

Serious matter here, no kidding.
You do not mess up with me with spoilers.

I do not like spoilers.
Spoilers are gigantic NO-NO for me ya.

I mean, what happens next is what keeps you going! The anticipation!!
Do NOT take the fun out of it by throwing the spoilers to my face, you sadistic cow!

I mean,for instance
where's the fun in living your life if you know what's going to happen at the end of your life, right?
There's a good reason why the ending is written, indeed, at the ending.
Or else it wouldn't be called an ending.
It'd be called the introduction,
or,
the body,
or,
perhaps, PLAIN CONFUSING???
Listen, put what you've learnt in english class into practice.
The head must come first. Next, the body. Finally, a nice pair of legs. Right??

Telling spoilers to your friends are not going to make you anymore superior than they are.
On the contrary, you'd look like a fool,who cannot think before you speak.

So, i think that's about it.
I just wanna stress out the importance of not busting your friend's anticipation and excitement.

After all, no one likes a party pooper.

not the Adam's family

Hey, it's me again!

So, some might wonder why i'm posting this since it's not even friday yet.
I can explain - the wi-fi connection is EXCELLENT-A, and i have quite an ample time on my hands (it's sunday!! ), so i thought "Why not?"

Now, i'm going to introduce you to my family! The living room's through here..haha


Now, see that man at the top of the ladder, pruning the trees?
No, no, he's not a bodyguard, although given his big and tall stature he definitely can pass as one. (or more accurately, a bouncer!)
That's my father!
His name is Ahmad Hisham bin Long and he likes to garden.
Physically, he's tall, big, and bald.
He looks like a Chinese, so, many many times when he goes shopping alone, the shop owners will talk to him in Mandarin...
He always just smile at them.
My father, he may look fierce,but when it comes to his daughters, he becomes as meek as a lamb....

Oh, and he can be very very sarcastic anytime he pleases!
For some reason, he likes to single me out for his target of sarcasm.
Perhaps it has something to do with how i always seem to have something to say back at him.
My siblings say i'm his favourite. My mother says i have him wrapped around my little pinky.

Well, i have nothing to say to that.


Next, is the queen of the house, my Mother.
My mother, Sa'diah binti Atan is one strict lady.
She is loving and a very good mother, but believe me when i say that you do not want to get on the bad side of her.
It's scary........................... *shiver*
While i can argue back whenever my father scolded me for something, i always get tongue-tied when my mother lecture me.
She has a very sharp tongue and the look she gave me when she's angry at me...

Oh, if looks could kill!

My mother is half-Chinese. Her mother, my grandmother was one.
All my relatives say i am a spitting image of my mother.
Like mother like daughter, no?

Did i also mention that both my parents are doctors?
You should join us at our dinner table.
It's extremely interesting and also disgusting to hear them discuss about medical cases while one is eating.
Once, i was eating spaghetti when they talked about venereal diseases.....
I thought, "Well, i'll skip dessert."
Not very appetising!!!!


The first child in my family is my brother, Ahmad Ikram.
He is currently doing TESL in Uitm. Soon, he will be teaching English at school.
I really cannot imagine my brother as a teacher!
He is like the artsy fartsy sort, always carrying his guitar around and wearing odd T-shirts.
He likes to go jamming and he also has his own band.
Being the eldest, he always bully his little sisters.
Twisting our arms, pouring a bottle of Coke on our heads,farting in our presence, and mimicking our high-pitched voices... The list goes on and on, it's practically endless!

He is the typical annoying big brother, but he is supportive and he always believe the best in us.
He's an imp, but i have to admit that i do love him very much. (I hope he doesn't hear this from me.)


Next, my sister, Nadiah.
If you have read Falling leaves, then i should let you know that Nadiah is to me what James is to Adeline.
She's the best sister i could ever ask for, and i admire her so much!
She always inspires me to be a better person.
She is everything i'm not.
Her demeanor is quiet and calm. While i always give trouble to my parents with my wayward ways, she is submissive and obedient.
She is my security blanket and i depend on her whenever i need comforting or a listening ear. She would patiently listen to my ramblings of problems and her advice is the only one i would actually listen to.

I should let you know that i have a serious problem when it comes to Mathematics,
and since i was little, Nadiah was the only tutor who was patient and determined enough to put up with my irritating questions.
I would cry to her and throw my Math books away in an angry tantrum, then she would say
"Here, let me see what the problem is..." in a very gentle way.

In a way, she is like a second mother.

However, one thing about her that really gets to me is she could be so insecure sometimes!
I would patronise her and tell her to get a hold of herself because she seriously has an issue of self-esteem.
How i wish i could make her realise how special she is!
She is now studying in Bandung, Indonesia as a medical student in UNPAD.


And last but not least, is my youngest sister, Sofiah Hanis.
No one in the family ever call her by her name though. To us, she is 'Yayang.'
Being the youngest and the prettiest, she is the apple of my parents' eyes.
She could get away with almost anything.
Maybe that is why when she was little, i always bullied her.. hahaha..
She was always left out whenever my brother, my sister and i were together.
That's just the way it has always been.
She was the closest to my mother, and for that reason, we never involved her in any of our mischief.

But Yayang is also the aloof type. She likes to do things on her own.
When we were little, we were like cats and dogs.
Not a day would go by without us quarelling and making on or the other cry.
Fortunately, now that we have all grown up, we have none of that occuring anymore.
She is now in her final year in a secondary school.
Of course, i am not as close to her as compared with my brother and sister, but now we treat each other with civility and cordial.

Come to think of it, i do love her. But sometimes she could be so difficult, if you know what i mean.


Aaaaand, that's that!
We are just a small family of six. Nothing really special about us really!

Adios-a~
Till we meet again!

6 questions!

Hello everyone!

Who knew we would be given blog writing as a weekly assignment? Not that i’m complaining. The novelty of doing such assignment is interesting enough.

First and foremost, i would really like to say that writing this learning log is a bit unnerving to me. The questions asked instantly made me think, “Oh,no!”. To answer these questions honestly would mean that i would be telling bits and parts of me that no one would really know of unless of course, if they had known me for quite some time. I’ll try my best though, to give substantial answers because i do tend to talk nonsense, and a long-winded one at that.

Now, let’s get down to it shall we?

I do most of my reading and studying in my room. To be specific, anywhere in the room except at the studying desk. So far, my favourite spot for reading and studying is on the bed or on the floor. Obviously they aren’t the most comfortable place for doing revisions on any subjects or even for completing assignments, but somehow the idea of manning a desk while reading a thick reference book on Physics does not seem appealing to me.

In my case, the best time for reading is in the morning, right after my visit to the slumberland. I think the mind is at its freshest condition right after a good night’s sleep and therefore, can readily absorb anything that is hammered into it. The only problem is 'sometimes' i sleep late, so i wake up in the morning feeling groggy. Reading, then, would be the last thing on my mind.

As for the third question, i can study up to half an hour before i needed a break. Yes, i know half an hour hardly seems long but my brain simply loses focus after thirty minutes of studying! The main reason for this is because i am easily distracted by my surrounding. Once my mind starts to wonder off on its own accord to some other places or events.... well, it’s a sign that i should take a break of about 5 minutes. After that, i’m good to go! So, when having a class,you might catch me automatically glancing at my wristwatch after every 30 minutes because my mind is telling me that it’s going elsewhere. It is also unfortunate that i am bothered the most by distractions in a form of questions asked when i am concentrating. Worse, if the question asked is totally unrelated to what i was concentrating on. For example, i was concentrating on writing an English essay when my friend suddenly asked me for a mathematics equation. In an instant, all train of thoughts evaporated - ideas stopped pouring in and the brain suddenly ceased to function. I was able to neither answer her question nor continue writing the essay....

I usually work on two different assignments on average in one evening. Anything more than that would mean burning the midnight oil and difficulty in waking up the following morning. (evidently, as in this morning’s incident.) As for rewards, i really don’t need much. The sight of a simple “good” and comments scribbled at the corner of my work sheet when they are handed back to me is quite sufficient as it lets me know that my efforts were not wasted. It also gives a boost of confidence that with a little bit more effort and hard work, i am capable of getting better at it and thus, successfully achieve my long term goals and my ambition.