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.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Real Life

I remember last year, December fourth, I went out for my very first Tumblr meetup ever, and, at a lost for what to wear, I shrugged on my Only Pair of Jeans and my favorite sweater that shed hair on any and all black surfaces and pulled my hair up. This year, December fourth, I woke up feeling like I had something I needed to do and after getting it done (it being wishing Mei a happy birthday), I decided to go out. So I thought long and hard about the 'look' I wanted to go for that day and came up with: fluffy, over-bundled blanket of whiteness.

I put on my white pants, an overlarge cardigan from Zara (its pockets located at thigh-length), and my favorite sweater that shed hair on any and all black surfaces.

This is irrelevant, though.


Things have been going smoothly on my end. I've been doing a lot of 'getting things to go the way I want them to go' lately, which was a sudden epic boom and has been steadily rising ever since that night I cried my eyes out and my Dad told me off for crying, saying, "You can't always get what you want." Maybe it's been a long time coming or something, but I snapped a bit that night and finally told myself that I was getting everything I want.

Everything. All of it. And more.

And no one was going to stop me.

Since then, the crazy energy behind it has subsided some but I still feel all prickly whenever I start thinking of 'you can't always get what you want' and 'you're mean, selfish and self-centered and you don't even realize it'. I start thinking of thoughts like 'those who say that (you can't always get what you want) just didn't try hard enough'. Didn't want it hard enough. Didn't work hard enough. Didn't bleed hard enough.

So it gets kind of messy from there on out. I mean, I knew that it was going to be hard going, actually reaching out for something and wanting something and working towards it, but I am working towards a million and one things at once right now that it just kind of feels like a cop-out. Like I'm going to fail at, if not all, at least one of these things.

But the hard part doesn't really come from the fact that you have put in the effort. It more or less stems from watching other people at the bottom (used, tools, see you soon if I ever I need you again soon) while you've stepped over them to get to the top, to get what you want.


Sometimes I dream about next year and what it would be like if I were in a class full of people I hated beyond a shadow of a doubt and yet am forced to socially and intellectually interact with on a day to day basis. Them, with their groups of fours, with their circle, their dominion of friends, lorded over, voices fighting for a chance to speak. School, class, the prefect board: it's their domain. Theirs to lord over. And where am I in this scenario, with no Nisa, no Hanna, no person willing to look and to repeat what they said in a moment of weakness? And would I just be that girl, at the back of the labs, sitting a little way further off than most clustered groups of fours and circles?

I wonder sometimes. And then I know that that's not going to happen. I've fought tooth and nail to survive this far. I'm not going to back down and become an antisocial now. I've fought so hard so far just to make sure I'm never alone or lonely, even at the expense of others, even at the expense of myself. So I know that if I end up in a class with people I don't like, don't want to like in a million years, I'll still force myself in, integrate myself in, find someone or something to hold onto. Like a Nisa maybe. Or a Hanna. Or a Thivyaa.

(Used, tools, see you soon if I ever need you again soon.)

And another year as that girl with the prayer circles, the waffles and start-stop-start unprepared speech snowballed from years of frustration and nightmares and dreams, defending someone who has a right to be defended because she can't defend herself.


Coincidences in the fabric of space and time. Coincidences between here and now and a past life. All of it, irrelevant and scared.

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