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, February 4, 2012

My Presidential Pledge

Since I feel bad for neglecting this blog for an entire week, I'm making it up by writing lots of posts for February. Here's a list of things regarding my family:
  1. When my family members fart around me and don’t bother to say sorry/look sheepish. Like, okay, I appreciate how comfortable we apparently are around each other, but come on. There are things that never stop needing apologies for, despite blood connections or wedlock or whatever, and farting around someone is one of them.
  2. Sometimes my Dad would pour unidentifiable substances down my toilet. I don't really appreciate this because a) my toilet gets clogged up sometimes and it scares me to think of those substances (sometimes liquid, sometimes solid) just staying there, floating, with nowhere else to go because down is no longer an option; and b) the heck are those substances, they look so disgusting. Today's was coffee. It stained the toilet yellow and I don't even know why I'm writing this down except for the fact that I would be eternally grateful if he stopped doing that. Or maybe if he'd flush after.
  3. I am the youngest in my family, hence I know nothing. I don't know all these supposed adult business because I am too young, despite the fact that they expect me to act like an adult and whine when I act childlike. We are an uncommunicative family and only talk about religion. They expect me to crawl around and listen in on conversations through the slit between the door and the ground, but when I actually do crawl around and listen in on conversations through the slit between the door and the ground, they tell me I shouldn't do that. I am forced to become a Sherlock Holmes in my own house, deconstructing evidence and deducing familial problems through the clues that they have left lying around like a trail of breadcrumbs.
  4. I am the youngest in my family, hence my siblings are all older than I am. This is great because I can ask my first brother to drive me places and he does (when the mood strikes), and my sister-in-law as well, and I don't talk to my second brother beyond him grinning and calling me nicknames that I outgrew five years ago, and I don't talk to his wife, my other sister-in-law, ever since they stopped living here, and I talk to my sister because she is, out of all of them, the most sane. However, having older siblings also has the downside of them all thinking they are better than you, and while that may be true, it ruins a teenager's developing sense of self worth to be corrected every few sentences by her siblings who are twice as old as she is. Or so that's the theory I've come up with.
  5. My mother bought me a book of prayers for a student and in the line at Popular where we bought the book, everyone behind us were staring at me, and I stared back. She also asked me whether I would like to wear a jubah and I snorted. These are the things we talk about. We don't talk about life much, or at least I made a vow not to ever since I told her about how our teachers at school weren't teaching and she thought that I was crumbling under the pressures of Form 4 and that I just needed a little time to regroup, think about things and set my priorities straight. Once, I told her how I hated life, and she told me she'd hook me up with a friend of hers who's a therapist, and she forgot about it the next day.
  6. I inherited my Dad's coldness (he doesn't scream at those customer service people on the phone. He just calls them out on their inadequacy in a mean way, but with no rise in volume.) and my mother's short temper (she has a short temper), which resulted in a funny moment yesterday. My mother passed by these people selling vacuums, and she asked about the price. The lady kept on insisting to show my mother a demo, so she replaced the vacuum head with something else that sucked in an entire bowling ball, and my mother was still asking about the price, so I cut in rudely to interrupt the lady's explanation of the bowling ball sucking, to ask about the price. So I just dragged my mother away, but she still wanted to know the price and then this other guy, also one of the vacuum sellers asked me where I was in a hurry to rush off to. I stared at him coldly. I stared at him for a very long time. I started at him until he was uncomfortable, flinched and looked away uncomfortably. I could have laughed or smiled evilly but I figured that would ruin the effect. I kept on staring until my mother had to drag me away. This wasn't about family, really, but it was funny.
  7. Our fridge is older than I am.
And because I now feel guilty about airing our mildly-clean-looking laundry, I would like to issue a formal apology: I apologize for the fact that I can no longer think of what to talk about on here other than my life. I used to talk about television shows, but that sort of ended up ruining my life, and plus, I now keep the few shows I watch near and dear and close to my heart, and I hardly feel up to sharing them with people. And I guess I could talk about books, but I don't want to.

I don't have much time, I guess. I was kind of depressed a few days ago because I was pretty sure I wasn't living properly. Excessive sleep, no appetite; yup, back to depressed. It goes up and down in spikes and I guess I am in an okay mood today and yesterday mostly because I still have two more days of no school stretched in front of me. Hours just waiting to be filled. I was just thinking, the other day, that if all I do is school and then come home to do stuff for school, that I wasn't really living, that this wasn't really real life, and this can't possibly be how I'm spending the critical years of my life developing my sense of self worth. No wonder a lot of people end up depressed later on in adulthood, because their childhood sucked and their teenage life was filled by coasting from day to day, doing stuff for school.

Make me your president, World, and I promise you I will annihilate all schools and also all the people who need school to develop their sense of self worth, because those people are weird.

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