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.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

The One Week Blur

Since this all occurred a bare minimum of seven days ago, you'd think I would still remember everything that I did on Friday, right? You'd be very, very wrong, because the only thing I remember doing on Friday is maybe a little bit of homework (but probably none because I had finished mostly everything by that point) and it's not like I read fanfiction or anything because I distinctly remember only doing that on Sunday, to while away the hours until I am called back to face the destiny that nobody really ever wants to face that is school. (I hate that sentence, but nobody but me cares anyway, and I can't be bothered to backspace now). Friday was just a non-event then, and that is how I would like to remember my holidays. Indeed, looking back upon that one week of solitude and bliss from the outside world (of school), I realized that I probably should have been more thankful for what I've got, and maybe I should even have utilized my time better, but who cares, what's done is done, and all that's spilt milk now.

Saturday was a little bit more eventful, but I still think it was a colossal waste of my time and let me tell you why. I volunteered to make the class time table to stick at the front of the class and, sure, I got all the stuff ready and I've had the design planned for days but to execute it all was just a disaster. I woke up at eleven and by twelve something, I haven't accomplished anything beyond just laying down the papers, nothing else, not even cutting paper or making lines on it to cut later on. So I called Hanna.

That's how I spent my Saturday. Hanna did her homework and gave suggestions whenever necessary, and I worked tirelessly to the bone trying to finish it all in one day, I even held in my pee for around six hours. Sorry, bladder! Was I satisfied with the results? Hell no. I think there's a picture of it up on my Tumblr, and it has this bird that I drew (which I'm very proud of - I may have used references on Google and all but the paintjob I did for it was incredible, if I do say so myself) and basically everything else sucked, I hated the shape of my leaves, and I didn't even bother with neatness, I just sort of chucked all my ideas on a manilla card and called it a day. But overall, I was satisfied with the amount of time I put in, even if it looked effortless (in a bad way). From another person's eyes, it's probably nice. Nice-ish.

I did think I wasted a whole day doing that and nothing else, so it was to great panic that I faced the night with the knowledge that I had no effing clue what topic I was to present for my oral report. I was mainly worried about English, because that was a subject I could inject flair and individualism into, unlike BM, which I'm thinking, I'll just memorize something from a magazine or something. With enough practice it'll flow by nicely and I'm good at memorizing stuff. So that was settled for BM, but what of English? After many a debate (and lots of internal wars), I decided to do it on castrati. That was a tough decision and one that I went back on several times over. I know that I could lose favor with teacher completely if she took it the wrong way, which she probably will because honestly these Malaysians, but whatever. That's what I want to do at the moment, and that is what I shall do. Everything else that I had considered doing (Chris, Judy Garland, Freddie Mercury) sounded too gay and I probably would end up crying if I talked about Chris or Judy, so you know what, stick to something safe, but something that you know. I know voice. I know castrati. Well, not really. But I know what they are, which is more than can be said for most people, you know. Plus, at the end, there was this little criticism of how modern day society and media view men with higher voices as undesirable artists (or, like, boys with higher voices, like Justin Bieber and whoever else followed his tween act), and I liked that part. Another plus, I managed to fit Chris in there somewhere, talking about his range. It's something I like and it's something I like to talk about. So, teacher, why the hell would I get criticized for choosing this topic?

Sunday I read fanfiction and wasted a whole lot of time, but at the end of the day, I was ready for school. You know, I will look back fondly upon memories of high school, but there's no denying one thing: school itself, as an entity, as a being, sucks big time, and I for one will never pledge my love or allegiance to school, even though I wouldn't just throw away my morals and openly mock it on its own turf. I hate school. There really need not be any more to it than that.

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