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, July 8, 2012

Something In Her Wording I Cannot Help Searching for What Memory Found

Foreword: I keep getting in moods in which I do not really want to journal (because, yes, that is what I'm doing with this blog - I'm journaling, which is not an adjective, you'd be surprised) so this post is written two weeks after. I feel bad but it's not like I have an obligation or anything, right? This, just like everything in my life as of late, is just something that I have to prove to me. I do this so that I can see it, I can read it and I can understand it and it's not for the benefit of other people at all. There will come a time when I'll be doing stuff for other people. Frankly, that time is not now. Now is time for a Bombay-Bicycle-Club inspired post, and I'm starting to realize a trend here in the songs that I pick, in which all of them make me out to be some kind of floaty hobo. I am not a floaty hobo. I just pick songs that I think would go well with the background, to the backdrop of my life, of course. But mainly songs that wouldn't clash with the Mary Ellen Mark background, though. I highly prioritize the background (which I'm going to change soon anyways, and with that, probably comes a change in the music I listen to. It's correlative.)

Week 6

Nothing much happened during Week 6, which is a shame, because Week 7 was a doozy. But I'm, of course, not here to talk about Week 7, I'm talking about the week preceding that. Hell yeah! I don't know why I feel self-righteous all of a sudden, but the inevitable fact that this post is probably going to suck is making me all defensive from the get go. Early on in the week, I caved (or thought it through rationally, with a flowing pros-and-cons list and hours and hours spent pondering on the Very Important Decision) and registered for a Twitter account. I used to have one, which I must have made in a fit of hysterics (because, seriously, Younger Me, what were you thinking?). I spent about two days just looking at it, completely at sea about what to do next, after tweaking the background and uploading a picture, after spending hours slaving over the description (which just ended up being a quote from Avatar, anyways), I had no idea what to do next. Scary.

Nisa solved the problem by Following me first, but sadly she ruined the moment of girl-power-friendship-solidarity by laughing at me about it the following day. Twitter, as it turns out, is nothing I can't get from my already established Tumblr, so I just use it to have a conversation with people because I am still chicken and I still haven't gone on Skype in a while. It is also decidedly uneventful. I don't Follow celebrities or anything, because if I wanted to know what Chris had Tweeted, I just go on Tumblr. Life is a whole lot easier now that I can talk to Khairina whenever I want without worrying about her credit limit, though, but even then, I don't talk to her all that often. I don't really want to cry over me and her drifting apart. It's just the natural order of things, highly expected, and hey, at least we left off on a very good foot. That sounds weird. But surprisingly, 'we got off on the wrong foot' sounds perfectly everyday.

Twitter is not a distraction from me. Some other people proclaim it to be the devil's spawn and tell me that they absolutely hate what that website has done for their productivity. I have surprising and superhuman self-control (when it counts). However, something that I haven't been able to control at all this week (feels weird saying that since all of this happened two weeks ago but just go with it) was watching Korra episodes. Rewatching actually. By the end of the week, I had actually managed to rewatch the entire first season (skipping around on some parts I didn't enjoy, of course) a grand total of five times. I am astounded and if I were someone else, I would be stunned speechless. That is actually what I did with my time. I am that good of a time-manager that I managed to fit in studying besides five marathon runs of Korra. Actually, I give myself too much credit. I did get kind of sick of my own weakness (it's a cartoon! Why can't I resist a simple cartoon!) around Wednesday. But I ignored that sickness! I persevered and carried on! And in the end, I can really totally quote a lot of Makorra scenes!

My cats (technically, they're my sister's and Kirsten's but they live with me and I am the Hand that Feeds Them and I give them their medicine and occasionally clean their poop places and even cleaned their actual poop off my floor once or twice so credit where credit is due) have been having some major problems with each other lately. When I Caesar's wound completely healed, I put him in the same room as Smokey and Smokes got crazy. Biting sexually and letting off this ungodly yowl. Cats in heat, I tell you. They're really insatiable. So we sent Smokey off for castration. On the way, my mother was talking about how cats, like all animals, get so horny that they can't tell the difference between a male and female of their species. I thought this was going to be a segue into homosexuality, but luckily (and surprisingly, actually), she started talking about how inhumane it was to kill your own newborn baby. Emotional crisis averted. Sadly, my mother and I got into a fight on the way home. Downside of being at home all the time: your parents see you so much, that they start to realize what an asshole you are. Oops. But I can't exactly work on bettering myself with people breathing down my neck. It simply doesn't work that way because it hasn't work that way. The sooner my parents realize this, the better, I think.

I went to Nisa's house twice this week. First time, I went to her house to help her write a letter. She had to write one if she wanted to apply for a position in the Board of Directors for PRS. I basically wrote the letter but, once again, credit where credit is due, Nisa wrote the first few parts and then edited heavily towards the end. I also somewhat helped Nurin with hers, but mostly I just corrected her grammar and semantics errors. I ended up leaving quite late (I think we had time to watch Step Up 3 and entertain her cousin Danial with Sesame Street videos on Youtube. By the way, Feist on Sesame Street! Who fucking knew?) and somehow Nisa and I came to the conclusion that she has a very ghetto accent thus she belongs with Snoop Dogg. And I, somehow, am Snoop Dogg in this situation. I think that the insane and senseless jokes are the few things I miss about that school. It was an educational visit, though, because I had somehow forgotten that Snoop Dogg was spelled with a double 'g'. The more I know.


The second time was a bit of a disaster. I had agreed to go to her house after picking up Smokey from the vet (poor, unmanly soul) but when I reached the front gates, her maid was waiting out there and said that Nisa was off to the hospital because of her uncle or something. When I was at home with my dad downstairs, calling me to help fix my mother's fountain with 'the whole family' (which really consists of the parental unit, my maid and the cat. Lovely family), Nisa texted me to ask why I was so late. Apparently, her maid had made a mistake. Cue me having a fight with my parents because they wanted me to stay and help with the fountain and learn that the world does not revolve around me and what I want to do. But if I put my mind to something, it's kind of hard not to get what I want eventually, so I just ran upstairs and asked my sister in law to send me. This time around, I helped Nisa make enveloped for the PRS farewell party. I don't have friends, only people I conquer, right Hanna?


"Since I don't go to school now, I don't actually study. I just sit at home and take pictures of my cats all day."

Friday was a bad day. In hindsight, I don't really know what was bothering me so much but it probably had something to do with the fact that the prefects had AGM that day. People were Tweeting about the speeches the seniors gave and how they should not quit and it was kind of a slap to the face for me (and - I feel selfish for even thinking it - hopefully to Khairina, too). The thing is, Khairina has been more open with the fact that she's still a prefect at heart because the only reason she left was because she felt like she didn't belong in the board, whereas I left. Just plain ol' abandoned everyone because I was having a mental breakdown. Because I couldn't stand doing the same old repetitive things over and over again, yielding no results, while my life was tearing at the seams.

Putting it into that perspective, and not the one that I usually pull out about Sri Aman and my friends being better off without having to 'handle me', it really does seem like I am the biggest coward to ever walk through those gates. And I ran. Some people said it was brave what I did, standing up for what I thought was right, standing up to the institution and being upfront and strong-willed enough to follow through with the plan every step of the way, but none of it actually happened like that. I tripped, I faltered, and I mostly just blundered my way through it and people don't understand how much I want to come back, but can't because ever since I left, I've stopped pretending to be one of them and once they realize that I truly am not one of them, and that I never will be, there's no turning back. I'm not strong, because if Hanna were still my friend, I probably would have not turned down the opportunity to become leader for our group at camp, and I probably would have spoken up, and I probably would have been chosen for Top 5, and I probably would have the smug satisfaction of turning it down. Fucking Elyza. Everything she has is supposed to be my life. And imagine me, just watching from way over here at home, while she's doing all these things that I had envisioned myself doing once. 
wow here’s a self-pity self-hate post  
this is the type of regret that i knew would come, but it still hurts when i’m actually confronting it 
barely related sort of but my mother was talking the end of the world and how in one split second everything that’s precious to us and everything that we’ve taken for granted will be gone. it got me to the unfortunate place of thinking and being depressed over the state of my life. in the span of a few short weeks, i lost two people i care deeply for, got tangled up in some behind-the-scenes family feud, lost my faith in like everything, and i thought i would rise above it all and get chosen to run for head girl at least because if there’s one constant in my life, it’s the fact that i was good at being a prefect, i was good at taking orders and giving them out, but marina initially got chosen as the token malay instead of me and idk. i know that i would have refused the offer to run in the elections but maybe that was just my idea of getting my life back to my terms, getting things to go back to the way they were so that i could make my own decisions and actually deny people something instead of constantly being denied. and i didn’t even get that chance.  
and then after, when i was having a war with myself over whether or not i should quit school, i realized that either decision i make will end up in regret. i will regret letting my life unravel slow and steady and at the same time i will regret basically running away from everything but one thing i knew for sure was that i was going to face regret. when i was still in school, i could at least pretend that i had friends, i could at least pretend like i belonged in the prefects board because i have felt strong emotions towards them before, something that might even have been passion. but now that i’m out of the picture completely, now that i’ve removed myself from the picture, i can’t pretend anymore. and really i don’t know what hurts more or what’s supposed to hurt more: the inner suffering i used to go through at school when everyone just seems to somehow seamlessly get along and actually enjoy getting along while i sit by the fringes occasionally making a remark, or this suffering where i watch everyone do exactly the things that i thought i would be doing, having the lives i thought i would be living, but i’ve given up on.  
i had a plan. unlike most people who liked going with the flow, i had a plan. i didn’t plan on which college or uni i wanted to get in, i’m still quite undecided on a future career, but i planned other aspects of my life. i spent days and days talking to hanna about how we would switch nametags during prefects orientation, and we planned out questions to ask the juniors, stupid ones that we got off interview books. i had initially wanted to be one of the top 5 of the prefect board but hanna told me she wouldn’t want me wanting to be a head girl so i thought, all right, since she wouldn’t like me any more if i was head girl, why bother. i meticulously planned what i would teach my junior. i planned my first apartment together with maze, and our house after, and the carpet and the floor and the kitchen and the tiles in the bathroom. i picked out our children’s names. i picked out what classes i was going to send them to. i planned to study in the uk maybe so i could at least be on the same continent as hanna. i prayed that everything would just work itself out between my sister and my parents and everything going on at home. i was going to have this really good, perfectly planned life that just disappeared in one week flat. 
i don’t really know how to come back from that. i honestly thought that i was going to be running for head girl, or at least chosen for the running so i could turn them down. that was supposed to be the turning point in my life, when i went ‘ok i’ve lost a friend, i’ve lost my boyfriend, my homelife’s shit, everything’s shit, but you know what, i still have control over my life. i can still say no. and i say no to this’. instead it was sort of the coup de gras of the whole week, king among everything else that went wrong, what happened in the car with my mother, and then khairina telling me she was serious about quitting. 
you can change your destiny, i’ve decided. i think my perfect life was written out for me, i just fucked it up big time. i shouldn’t have grown up so fast, i shouldn’t have treated hanna like shit, i shouldn’t have been such a busybody, i should have been the leader for my group at prefects camp this year, i should’ve done everything right because everything’s always been handed to me, but i didn’t i just did everything wrong. and the worst part is that if i were to choose one solid thing to blame, one definite turning point, it would have been my childhood, when i had to grow up so fast and so isolated from other kids, and that made it so hard for me to integrate and assimilate into life as i knew it.  
stupid stupid stupid

On Saturday was Hari K. The actual visiting hours started at nine but I had to hitch a ride with Nisa since both of my parents were in Johor to help my sister shack up with her girlfriend, unbeknownst to them, of course. Actually, in a moment of weakness, I called my sister and told her to tell them that she was a big fat lesbian, but of course, what reason did she have to listen to me, other than the godforsaken voice of reason. Things can only go worse from here, of course. I am the only one who knows this because my parents think that my sister's just going to come back home with her tail in between her legs, dreams of being a doctor in a faraway place locked tightly up in a box, leaving behind her very close Christian friend who's a crazy converter and preacher, and all of these secrets that are only supposed to be between them are also known by me and I have been sworn to secrecy. Whereas my sister thinks that I know something that I'm not supposed to know and have neglected our parents' wishes by telling her, and when she's commanded to come back and leave her lesbian lover, she's going to know that the secret was that our crazy political-minded mother has somehow used her connections to get her ass forcefully removed from JB and she's never going to talk to any of us again. (Serves her right for making light of my warning, but a family feud is not exactly beneficial to me in any way.) You see the problem here? The information overlaps that are just crazy and I am stuck in the very middle of all of this? But we were talking about Hari K.

It was a drag. I'm not going to talk about what was wrong with it, because a lot of things were obviously. They couldn't wear outside clothes and instead had to wear school tracks and official shirt. Their earnings were cut by fifty percent. The horror. Basically, everything was a diluted version of the grandeur associated with Sri Aman's Hari K. We're losing our spark. Can't tell whether it's the Headmistress's fault or it's just because the students are getting progressively less cool. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been going back and forth between dissociating myself from the school, and talking as if I'm still a part of everything. But I've decided that in my own personal writing, I can do fucking both. Which brings us to that morning. I felt a little bit like a fugitive, because even though people were all milling around, busy as all hell, I was still a relative outsider. Nisa was so stressed out, she started lashing out at people. Mas, Khairina, Zaza and I all helped out Nisa with her PRS stall decorations (which she had forgotten about and had only set about completing that morning, God bless her soul). I was kind of angry that she lashed out at me because I had helped her with so much. And then later on she said the meanest things about a lot of people, and I was kind of shocked, because I haven't been exposed to that sort of badmouthing in a few weeks, if you know what I'm saying.

I think what I'm saying is this: when you're friends with someone, you're not really friends with them. You're friends with the initial version of them. This isn't true for most people, of course, but your friends are literally the ones that leave the strongest impression in your mind and those impressions hardly go away even after years of being together. You may realize that they have developed new interests or changed a few little odd bits about themselves but other than that, the mental image you have of your friend is the one picture that you took way back in the early days of your friendship. For instance, obviously I think of Nisa as a total bitch because she was one in Standard 5 when she gave Afreena an ultimatum, to be friends with me or Nisa. And I still think of Hanna as that bimbo airheaded girl whose head is filled with nothing but dreams of going back to dear old Edinburgh. I am a bitch, and however much I have developed as a person or have changed, I'm always going to be 'the bitch' and 'the person who looks down on other people' from my friends' point of view. That's why it was so hard for Nisa to believe that some people actually thought I was nice. And that's why it's so hard for me to believe Nisa when she says that I am way meaner than her, because I used to consider her the pinnacle of all evil and sin because of her hypocrisy. 

Okay, we just left philosophical la-la land. For Hari K, I awkwardly hung around the class stall because let's admit it, I have no friends. Xueh Wei bought me a sandwich (she wasn't there that day but she left some money for me!) and then somehow, I ended up spending the majority of my time with Nadiah. We talked a lot. I spent so much time worrying that we would have run out of things to talk about and then I had to face an awkward silence that I didn't even notice there was no awkward silences at all. It was almost reminiscent of the previous Hari K. God works in mysterious ways. He makes you think that your life is perfect for a television show because of eerie all of the coincidences and ironies are. Khairina was feeling under the weather, so I patted her back and told her that it was all in the spirit of the curse of Hari K. Mas spilled the root beer she was serving to a kind of hot guy and then she ran away, face aflame. I even exchanged hello's with Iman, which was awkward and Zaza was all, "... Oh, right! You guys know each other!" Knew, my friend. Knew. I spastically waved at Hanna after standing next to her for about three minutes. I just can't shake the feeling that she's saying mean things about me behind my back, especially now that I've gone ahead and ran away, and she technically 'won the school' from our friendship 'breakup'. Ugh, games.

I was starting to feel unwell around eleven so I just headed on home. Slept until about six that night and then the next day, I slept a hell of a lot more. Sunday was uneventful. I promised Vivian that I'd give her the Up All Night CD Hanna gave me. It's not because I'm not grateful or want to get rid of all the things that remind me of her. It's just that I would much rather that CD be in the hands of someone who actually likes One Direction. I actually spent the entirety of Sunday watching Holy Musical B@man. And on Saturday I rewatched Little White Lie because I had a sudden urge to. I don't know why I didn't mention this before. It's important, but not exactly pivotal in the grand scheme of things. Rewatching Little White Lie reminded me of the person that I used to be, in Form 1 especially, because that was when I originally got attached to Starkid. I don't know. Things are different now. Not only am I different, but the fandom has evolved into this uncontrollable mess of annoyance and offense.

Things change, and this is a lame way to end a post because heck if I hadn't spent the past couple of weeks talking and waxing poetic about change.

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