The glorious and triumphant return of now-19 year old Blogger, the revival of a once-grand and dare I say influential webspace that produced daily content, and the crippling anxiety of a young woman who no longer has any time or motivation to write, and feels like any ability she had acquired in the past through repetition and sheer will alone is now slowly slipping out of her grasp. Brief history of the Blog and Blogger can be found here.

Here be personal journal entries, observations, slices of life, questions and conclusions, as well as exploration of social and political topics seen through the lens of a Malaysian Muslim, feminist, lesbian, Marxist, and horse enthusiast.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

All Good Thoughts

My last post wasn't overly dramatized at all. You know what is? The sobfest slash woe-is-me pity party I threw myself last Thursday after I found out that I lost my iPod. It's a here, there and everywhere sort of thing, because I remember being so harried at the time and I was running back and forth from my room to the living room to my mother's car, convincing myself that there was no way in hell I could have lost it. Finally, all teared out, I sat my ass in front of my computer, reassured by the fact that when my Dad got home, he'd rummage around my room, find the iPod and the world would once again be tilted right on its axis, and decided to listen to Chris's New Yorker panel for the... I lost count after that time I put it on loop and went to sleep with his voice and audience laughter ringing in my ears.

His voice didn't penetrate and I was on the verge of a panic attack when I decided to do the smart thing and check my e-mail. Who knows? Maybe someone had found it at Italiannies and decided to holla an e-mail at me. At the time, it was a bleak exercise, something I did out of obligation, not hope. Entered my address and password and waited for the thing to load. Cried a little bit more, reached around for a box of tissues and... Found your iPod Touch. For some reason, for some reason, I thought this was one of those weird ads or spam thing that I get all the time, like, "found your seamonkey" or "found a new and improved way to enlarge your penis". So it was almost like my brain short circuited for, like, a few seconds but then the words caught up to me... 

Suffice it to say, I created a blog. Andrew Lim (and colleague) Appreciation Blog. It's kind of creepy. No, wait, it is creepy and when my Dad and I met up with the guy, I just wanted to hug him, you know? Anyways, once Tumblr stops being over capacity or whatever, I'll change the URL and e-mail him a link. I think (and this is just an assumption) that if Andrew Lim ever goes through a bad day in the future, he can look back upon this blog and remember a time when he was a teenager's hero. Maybe that's taking it too far. Maybe. Anyways, like I said countless times, bless your everything, Andrew Lim and colleague, and may good things happen to you guys as well in the future.

So that was Thursday and that is, true story, what happened exactly ten minutes after I finished writing and editing Kevin's Girl. What have I been doing so far? Friday, surprisingly enough, was filled with chilling out and not doing much of anything. I thought I would get started on American Gods on Thursday night but of course that didn't happen, so I started it on Friday morning instead. Helena came over and it was nice. We had pizza. It rained. Very appropriate for my reading of American Gods. Appropriate setting and visuals and all. Plus, the wind was fabulous. I read downstairs mainly, with the cheese-pepperoni-mushroom pizza we ordered and the sliding door wide open. Didn't read much. 

Drama was less dramatic than Thursday night. Nazli taught me how to play the oboe. Never picking that thing up ever again, don't worry. Read some more. Googled names and events and locations mentioned in the book. Talked to Pam, who was busy, but I managed to steal a little bit of her time. She's read the book before and hated it and if it weren't for the premise and the themes, I probably would have shared her sentiment. Leaving class of this year are: Dan, Xin Ni, Ru Yan, Fatin, Pam, Danzo, Vinusha, Dee, Grace, Ami and Farid. That leaves 25. Actually, how embarrassing would it be if I forgot to mention someone? But I don't think I did because I remember that there's 25 of us left. We'll fill, we'll find; just like all the years before this. I'm not sad yet. I'll be officially sad in January, I guess. I don't know. The only people I'm close to would be Xin Ni, Pam, Dan and Vin. 

Enough of thinking about future nostalgia. Saturday was a good day - both parents out of the house so I spent it in their bedroom, with the A/C cranked up all day, cat curled up at the foot of the bed with his paws forming an X around his face. Read and finished American Gods by 10 at night and that means (in case you can't calculate) no showers, no breakfast, the only break I had was for lunch slash changing out of my sleep clothes at 4 to 5 (in which I also paid my customary visits to some Glee Tumblrs, and once again, experienced Rage). Rage didn't go away as I read the book, because usually when I read unsatisfying books, I feel Rage. I have absolutely nothing against American Gods. I thought for a 2-day read it was adequate but I'm still rereading a few parts here and there that I didn't quite catch or that didn't quite manage to sink in last night, so my journey with the book is far from over. I'm still processing, as they say.

The bright side from my Thursday night escapades is (aside from the epiphany I had in regards to the Good People of the World) that I have finally got a nice and somewhat concrete plot for Nanowrimo. With character names as well! There will be a shout out to Andrew Lim and his colleague. I feel... I feel like it's the least I can do. 

Now for some other news of another kind, I woke up this morning and this conversation occurred: 

My mother: Kak Gja's in the hospital.
Me: Why? 
My mother: You have a new nephew.

The thing is, I don't really know how to spell my sister-in-law's name. I remember when I was younger, I asked my brother and he told me that's how it's spelled. So there you go. I can't bring myself to be excited for a new life. I know I'm bad with babies, I have resigned myself to this fact. And I know that baby wails annoy me, I have tried to rid myself of this bad attitude by making a poor man's version of earplugs out of cotton balls, but as most people can attest, that just doesn't work. I can't sleep at night when I'm surrounded by the baby smell, that's why I get the creepy crawlies and heebie jeebies whenever I go to my mother's nursery. Sigh. This is just me shoving the fact that I am uncomfortable with babies down your throats. Maybe someday, I'll treat them like I treat cats. Maybe someday.

School tomorrow has me feeling like a man on death row, awaiting the gallows because there's nothing else to await. I mean, what else, really? Escape? There is no escape. I find little comforts in burning my apology mix CDs and talking to people like Helena, Ellie and Emma.

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