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 15, 2012

When I Appear It's Not So Clear if I'm A Simple Spirit or I'm Flesh and Blood

Foreward: It's time for me to change the background so I'll go ahead and start this post off by bringing back all of the songs that's attached to me like a tumor for the past month or so. But first, let's talk about the background picture.


Background information here. Mary Ellen Mark is a photographer. She takes cool pictures. That pictures is of Jeanette Alejandro looking out at Myrtle Avenue from her Brooklyn apartment. You can read about Jeanette and how she was pregnant at age 15 and gave birth to her baby girl, Chastity, at the link. But 'you' are nobody, because this blog is private, and I am once again simply talking to myself. Some of my favorite pictures of her are as follows, as taken from Google Images.


This week, I thought I'd do something a little different. Get a little Broadway all up in here, if you know what I'm talking about. You, well, of course you don't. Like I said, you don't exist at all! But on Monday, I woke up in suspiciously high spirits with Next to Normal's I'm Alive playing in my head all day long. The song doesn't have much bearing on my life, and the title is misleading you to think that it's about someone waking up in the morning and being all shit grateful while in the musical, it's just the ghost of Gabe Goodman harassing his mother for one of many, many, many occasions. These are the songs that have been used for the past few weeks.

Future Paradise: A title loosely based off of this song, borne from the idea that I had imagined this blog to be a sort of future paradise for me, a reprieve and a getaway, because Psychotic Justice mucked up my life so bad it was as good as hell. Lyrics underneath the blog title comes from this song.
 
Sprawl II (Mountains Beyond Mountains) by Arcade Fire, We Are Golden by Mika, Alas I Cannot Swim by Laura Marling, Some Nights by fun., Range Life by Pavement, and Ivy & Gold by Bombay Bicycle Club.

Week 7

A lot of pictures this week. I'm subconsciously trying to make up for last week. All of the things of note that happened this week that's... worth noting happened at the end of the week, thus I'm afraid the first couple of paragraphs is going to bore you a little (insert 'but you're nobody!' line here). I think I didn't go to Nisa's house at all this week, mostly because I was too caught up with getting settled down. A lot of things happened in the past few weeks which made it impossible for me to settle down because whenever I think I'd finally have some time to myself to reflect and, I don't know, breathe, something always seems to be going on and I have to focus all of my attention on that one thing (for example, Korra during the first week of my home school studies - or whenever that was, I really have the worst memory of recent events ever).

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, just basically all of the weekdays of the week, were spent in relative solitude with me studying. All in a day's work, same old. My parents did think it necessary to lecture me every single day on how I can't just sit on my ass in front of the computer all day and not go out. Unfortunately for them, they still don't get it. I am really very allergic to authority and the authoritative voice. I tried to tell them, but my dad just said that it can't be. I tried to tell them that it was a part of me and something that I can't change, and that is the hard and cold fact of the matter, but somehow they think that all I need is some re-conditioning. That will work! Years of lectures past and now that we've stopped to try to tackle the problem from the sides instead of head-on, slowly weaning the poison out of me and replacing the sick and sacrilegious thoughts in my head with orthodox and accepted ones in the span of a month or two, that will work. I've explained that I really can't listen to people when they tell me what to do. More often than not, that will just fuel me to do a one eighty and go completely against what they're telling me. I mean, I don't think it's all that normal or common, some people must be partial to submission. I just am not one of those people, not even an inch of me. Of course nobody likes being told what to do, but I hate it to the point of purposely not listening to good advice.

Of course going out once in a while to smell the roses and soak up some sunshine and sprawl around in the grass making grass-angels or whatever will be good for my health, immediately and in the long run, and that is good advice that I've been given by my parents right there. Of course I can't possibly live my life in front of a computer screen, with cats as my only companion. Humans aren't islands, as they say. But when they voice out their concerns in a voice of authority, as a demand, it just makes me repel from the very idea. No, I will not go outside just because you tell me to. Sorry. I don't know if it's just stubbornness or ego, most probably it's just a character defect, all I know is that my parents are going to continue to reprogram me this way and I will never submit to this. They are just wasting their time but I tried telling them.

Nadiah: He looks manly!
Me: Thanks. I take personal credit for his testosterone.

On a brighter side, I was scrolling through Tumblr on Tuesday evening, and you wouldn't believed what hit me in the face! Katharine posted a photoset of Chris dressed up to the nines in a James-Bond-esque photo shoot and I was so enthralled, I sat there for minutes on end but then I took a deep breath and told myself to move on. It was probably just a manip. A very damn good manip, but I've seen others that border on witchcraft. Before going to sleep that night (and I don't know why but this week marks the beginning of my fucked up sleeping schedule - sleep really late and wake up later than usual, missing one or two periods of studying) I found out it was an actual fucking photo shoot! I had planned on putting all of the pictures here but I actually do not have the energy for that.

So here, have a few! (And in to replace my laziness at putting all of the pictures, I've put in pictures that were edited by other people, people whom I am too lazy to credit. Suffice it to say I did not color/edit these pictures, got them off Tumblr, and nobody is granted access to this blog, so may Internet crime this rest peacefully within my soul.)


On Monday, I was just obsessed with YouTube. It's not uncommon for me to get carried away on Mondays. As chance would have it, I rediscovered Laci Green's Sex+ videos - educational and somewhat instructional videos on what they don't teach you in sex ed classes - and as fate would have it, Mei posted her rage at books such as 50 Shades being allowed past the borders of this country, and yet the amount of sex education in schools leaves a lot to be desired. I mean, for me, my parents haven't told me anything. I don't know if they already know that I, inquisitive and precocious child that I am, have already done my own research, or if they'd just give me some pointers when I get married and hope for me to figure out the rest myself. I think it's the latter. Or maybe not. I am indecently obsessed with fanfiction and to that end, written porn. It's somewhat appalling. Like the fact that no one ever tells you that they're cutting out your fucking clitoris when they sunat you, and what exactly the function of the clitoris is. Do I not deserve to be informed? (Or do I not deserve pleasure? Chopping off boys' foreskins does nothing to dismiss the fact that their dick is a palace of pleasure.) (Who am I kidding, pleasure is lust! Of course I don't deserve that! Even if I couldn't possibly stick it where someone else wouldn't want it for my own sadistic satisfaction.)
you guys think that the ‘don’t have sex you’ll get pregnant and die’ thing from mean girls is funny but in reality that is truly the extent of sexual education in malaysia (other than STDs and OTHER negative side effects of premarital sex such as social ostracism, dishonor on your family, etc. etc.) it is to such extent that we should not at all be appalled at the widespread issue of baby dumping  
kidding in all actuality the sexual education in malaysia isn’t bad  
(it’s non-existent)
effie (i'm tired)

I'm all talked out about this matter, but it has helped me to realize what I really want to do with my life. I mean, of course, at first, I wanted to be a psychiatrist because I wanted my name on this list, I wanted to help people like me who never had anyone to turn to talk to without threat of judgment or ostracism. But to complement that I could also go into politics, maybe, perhaps, I don't know. Politics right now is a snake pit consisting of the most vile and repulsive types of people mankind has ever known, but the future might be different. Or public administration or something like that. I just want to make a change. At the very least I want to put up a fight. And I want to educate. A lot of people are trying to change things and I applaud them and laud their efforts because they are undeniably good efforts. But I'm not trying to target old people. I want to teach and educate younger people. Schoolchildren who have never had proper sex education in their life and deserve to know and make choices regarding their own feelings and bodies, instead of constantly being policed by the school, by the government and by society. I'm going to have six months of nothing after my O-Levels next year. I was thinking I'd start blogging again, but this time talking about things that matter to me more and more as I grow up. Equality, social justice, feminism, rape-culture. While learning and studying this year, I hope to also educate myself more on my religion and to come to terms with it through the trials and tribulations I've faced because of my unorthodox beliefs and thought system, and not try to keep them as two separate things that I can just hide and bring back up at my will.

So that's what I see in my future. I guess that's really all there was to my Monday through Thursday. On Thursday night or Wednesday or whenever, Nisa called me to tell me something very important. As a preface, Nadiah admitted during Hari K that her mother didn't like me much (doesn't? It does not do to dwell on these things and forget to dream) but now she allows Nadiah to go to my house. I suppose I should feel honored. Well, a normal person should, given the circumstances. A normal person I am not. Nisa told me a night or two before we were supposed to go to Nadiah's that Nadiah was clearly very anxious about the whole thing, because her mother apparently liked none of us since we were involved one way or another with that thing in Form 3. Gosh, was that really the end of last year? Only? Passages of time notwithstanding, Nadiah was nervous that we'd all blow it. Nisa said that she didn't know whether it was nice of her to worry, or it was just a problem of her having a serious lack of faith in us. Since Nadiah talked for hours with me on Hari K, I've decided that I don't completely hate her because she seems to have made a choice, unlike Hanna, Miss Passive Aggressive. But that still doesn't make me automatically just accept her shit, because it seems to me that she's not going to offer me the same courtesy. Neither will her mother, but that's to be expected, and overall not a huge surprise or blow to my ego. Nevertheless, I don't care whether it was nice of her to worry, nor do I care that she lacks faith in our abilities to charm her mother, because Nisa and I are awkward beyond compare in a conversation with strangers, and Hanna is just very... loud. And, of course, nevertheless, I hate it when people tell me to do things.

Nadiah gave us clear, succinct instructions, right down to the sequence of actions we should do when we meet her mother (make eye contact, smile, salam). It was funny and ridiculous at the time, but only just humiliating in hindsight. I can fake manners if I wanted to! I've been doing it for a long time. And failing that, Nisa, Miss High and Snooty Manners, can just elbow me or something. Okay, sorry, yeah, shouldn't nickname my friends all these ridiculous names, but in my defense, Nisa is very particular about manners (unless it's her manners we're talking about) and Hanna is not my friend anymore. What I'm trying to get at here is that I was just sort of angry, mostly, that I was forced to do all this. I mean, friendship with Nadiah is worth something, but I don't really want to, nor do I think it's all that important, to suck up to her mother. I mean, they live their life with those principles, that's fine with me. It bears no consequence on my life. But I, personally, don't have to live my life sucking up to people just to be liked or considered proper and ladylike in the eyes of society, regardless of the fact that I have been raised that way. I'm not going to be rude to people I consider mere strangers, but I'm not going to shower them with compliments either. Although, of course, there are exceptions such as these, in which we have invited ourselves over to their house for dinner. But, again, I don't have to go out of my way to pretend to be above it all and well mannered because I am not that person.

I'm not going to criticize Nadiah's family, because that's hers. And at any rate, whatever I know of them is definitely not enough for me to base my judgment on. They seem to be good people, if not rather too cohesive and harmonious. No one as fucked up as Nadiah should have that kind of unfucked up relationship with her family. But like I said, we barely scratched the surface. I do think of them like a cult, just a little bit. I told Nisa this, no doubt she'd tell Nadiah, because that's what friends do. And Nadiah will tell her parents, because she is that freaky. God, my friends suck, don't they? The only thing I have keeping me afloat is the knowledge that even if I were still at school, there's no possible way I'd find a new group of friends to mesh with.

The dinner itself was okay. We cooked baked pasta (seriously, the children cook in that house) and then had a nice family dinner and chatted with her mother until nine thirty. Nisa and Hanna seem to have no problems with her mother, the latter mostly because she wouldn't shut up. Building up on what I said last week about people not really accepting that their friends have changed, thus they are only friends with the initial version of that other person. That made more sense in the last post. So, I don't know if I had realized this before but my initial version of Hanna was that she was kind of quiet, because she didn't talk much when she first moved her from the UK, and afterwards, in Form 2, when we grew closer, she was just an emotional wreck. Should've realized then that everything was not all sunshine and candy, because she's never talked to me about her problems other than the phone conversation we had about her mother in which she cried the whole way through. Anyways, so I never really realized, while we were friends, just how much that girl can talk. Nisa said that Nadiah's mother thinks of Hanna as dominating in a conversation. She called me dominant once, too, but that night, everything that came out of my mouth was just awkward. I don't think Hanna, or Iman, or Nadiah's mother, or even Nisa understands what I'm really going through, and who expects them to, really, since I share my tale with no one, but it was really humiliating to sit there and have them all talk about the honor and joy of being a prefect.

I mean, sure, don't quit. I never in a million years thought I would want to quit. But over the years, the board seemed less and less about 'the needs of the many overcome the needs of the individual'. It wasn't ever about helping people, or helping the school, because it never felt like that. Because we never got the gratitude we deserved. Over time, all of the honor and positive connotations to being a prefect whittled down simply to the fact that we had a bond together, and the board became nothing more than a glorified society of people who were, in the grand scheme of things, pretty much useless. Yes, we ran the school, but we had no control over the students. And as a prefect, our sworn job was to police the students and their discipline, not work tirelessly behind the scenes to serve a school that never said a proper thank you. I mean, that was my initial impression of a prefects' duties. To serve the school in the disciplinary force. The other people who have something to hold onto in the board, like friends, or memories they try their hardest to cling to, don't see the hard and shocking truth that nobody cares about the rules. People despise the rules. And the rules are pretty darn ridiculous in itself. I mean, obviously my opinion is not the only one that matters, but it does matter, along with the opinions of those whose passion for the board never died out, like Hanna's perhaps. So she doesn't get to sit on her high horse and act like what I did was an act of cowardice, because giving up on something you consider to be worthless to you is a quality that I have had for years and I've had to be brave in other aspects of my life. This is just a battle with myself that I'm not going to lose sleep over.

So when they got to talking, it was sort of humiliating, because I was that kid who ran away, I was the one who apparently wasn't good enough for the school or something so I dropped out and led my own life of solitary confinement, sort of like what people tell you to do if you shit on the school: "If you don't like the school so much, why don't you just drop out? Tons of people are willing to take your spot." What people don't understand is that I don't care about the millions of other fictional or real people who are crying to get into Sri Aman, they are shadows to me, unrealistic portrayals of something that I find worthless beyond thought. They do not exist on the earth that I step on, the surroundings that I see, and their tears or their longing for a school that's not their own has absolutely no consequence on the way that I choose to live my life. I'm the girl who ran away, the coward who tucked her tail safely between her legs and scuttled off in search of shelter, but if that's how I'm perceived from the outside world, it doesn't matter a wink to me, because that is not how I perceive myself. When everyone around you sees you as a monster, the only thing that you can do is to know yourself. Whenever I opened my mouth at that dinner table, it was always proceeded by a somewhat stilted silence, like they all wanted to say something, but they didn't. Nisa was silent all the way, I think she would have spoken more if Hanna would have shut up for a minute or two.

I am giving Hanna the benefit of the doubt here and let her do or say whatever she wants in my presence, even though I feel like I have to constantly police my own actions and speech and thought around her and around other people now, thanks to her continuous presence in the corners of my mind. I am going to give her the benefit of the doubt that she doesn't know the pain and suffering I've had to endure on her part, the fact that she practically ruined my life and took away everything I had ever worked for just because for once in her life, she wanted to be aggressive and honest and have the upper hand and fend for herself. The benefit of the doubt that when she speaks about all of these things, she has no clue that I want nothing more than to punch her.

We went walking around Nadiah's neighborhood late at night and ended up on the park. It could have been a transcendent sort of poignant moment if we were all friends without the shared history and cracks and fragments left shattered and strewn about between ourselves. Some of the things that we lose, they stay lost. And I hate the fact that I'm at the center of every single fight this group has ever had, but I can't help it anymore than Nisa can stop being high maintenance, or Hanna stop talking, or Nadiah stop being a confusing little douche. The price that I have to pay to have friends was really high, and I'm still paying it right then, right now, day in and day out, with the awkward silences that lie in the middle of where laughter should reside. We left the park near ten thirty, because I felt like we had overstayed our welcome anyway. Nisa and I thought that the experience would have been further enhanced (read: so much better) if we were all high at the moment.

I think the night actually ended on a downer for me, mainly because I have never really had the opportunity to truly think about all of the emotions constantly bothering me, and hanging out with Hanna that night ('hanging out' being a very loose term, actually) made me realize how different things are, and made me think about the things that I sort of shoved way towards the back of my mind when I was still friends with her, and was too chicken to confront when we initially broke our friendship. But sad as that was, I was more or less looking forward to Saturday, which was the YE sales. Well, not really. I mean, I was supposed to be a part of that. Not a single part of that fact does not hurt. But it hurts on a smaller scale than the prefects board, because I think subconsciously I feel betrayed by the board for always saying that we're all family, but everybody puts up their own walls, especially the Form 4s and it's just really hard to believe that family aspect of it all when certain people (not me, mind, I used to work hard at blending in) are constantly shunned. I'm getting faux deep. Or actually deep. Either way, here are some pictures of the sales.


I told Xueh Wei I would be there at 8 but as luck would have it, I overslept. Might as well; my parents weren't allowing me to wonder around some unfamiliar mall in the dead of the morning anyways. So I went at around 11. Xueh Wei was still around, despite her saying that she wanted to leave super early for Justin Bieber at World Stage (it was her birthday that day). And what a piece of luck it was that she ended up going past one o'clock! Sometimes the fates work is really weird ways. When I arrived, I was immediately greeted by the sight of Nando's to my left and the YE sales to my right. It was a crossroads moment. Fortunately I had already planned to meet up with Xueh Wei at Nando's so that was where I went for my lunch with some other people like Ashwini, Maha and Santra and all. What ensued was the most flawless, seamless conversation with a waiter in my entire life. I mean, it's no surprise that service people and I don't go well together, me with my awkward and them with their lack of tolerance for the awkward, but I got the menu, I ordered and it was beautiful. To a normal person, this might seem like something everyday, but to me, it's a calendar worthy occasion! I walked around with Santra and Maha for a bit after eating. Xueh Wei had already left God knows where, but I bumped into her a few minutes later and she told me that she had an extra ticket to World Stage and jokingly, she asked me if I wanted to come.

Why not? What followed was the most hectic half an hour of my life, in which I had to run to ask my mother for permission (she said yes without much cajoling - will wonders never cease?), run back to find Xueh Wei who was gone but she was only waiting for her dad on the other side and then we mad dashed a couple of kilometers over to her dad's car and then we all squeezed in it, Xueh Wei's two sister, Xueh Wei herself, Violet's sister Valvet, and myself. One awkward car ride later (and picking up Xueh Wei's mother) and we were at Sunway Pyramid, which admittedly, I had trouble spelling. Let me paint this picture for you, non-existent reader: I was wearing a cardigan over a backwards top (I turned it backwards because the neckline was too plunging), my practically-painted-on black jeans and my cream colored wedges. Wedges. Heels. On tarmac for three hours and maybe more than that, packed with people who looked too happy to be standing in that position, in a line of thousands, and if I were crazed enough, I would say millions, and we waited. It wasn't that bad, actually, in hindsight. Concert's a concert, I was just woefully unprepared and my outfit was so gauche for the occasion. At one point, I had to cover up my top half with my cardigan because I wanted to lose that and turn my shirt over to face the right way. Xueh Wei's mother side-eyed me. As she should.

Right place, right time, and this is where it got me. My phone was playing tricks with me so my mother couldn't call me and vice versa. When we got past the ticket and bag check, the others (except for Xueh Wei's mother and I - I was not going to sacrifice my health and safety, thank you very much) ran helter skelter and when they got to the venue of the actual concert, they plunged straight into the middle, where people were standing and already semi-moshing, despite the fact that the concert had yet to begin. I was having a semi-panic attack, actually, because I couldn't breathe and those oppressive, oppressive shoes just kept on mocking me, so I escaped. I hung around at the back near the photographers and the parents and met a few people I knew. I ended up sitting with two juniors from my ex-school, awkwardly chatting until World Stage officially started with the hosts coming up and saying a lot of crap about going 'gila' tonight. We can go crazy at a concert filled with children, but television shows are censored beyond recognition? Terrible, terrible double standard, Man. Parental guidance exists in both situations, you know.

Justin Bieber started off the concert and I'm afraid to say that at this concert in particular, I was lame. I've been to two World Stages in my life, this being the third, and at this one, I was a loser. I couldn't fucking give a crap, though, because my feet were throbbing. Some people stared at me like, bitch why aren't you dancing. I would have if I had been wearing sensible shoes. But at that particular moment, I wasn't, so I'm happy to say we will never find out my level of lameness if I had been dressed for the event. Divyia and Charlene came when Justin was doing his second song and they jumped in... joy seems like such a small word for the amount of happiness and ecstasy on their faces. They said hi and hugged me, but then hopped all the way to the front and got somewhat towards the middle of the crazy front crowd. Justin Bieber said 'swag' ever few minutes or so, and people peed their pants and fainted. From my vantage point way at the back where there was air swirling all around me and possibly through me, I was happy. I had to stand so I didn't look like a complete loser and my feet were really killing me, but I was happy.

Picture by Xueh Wei because she got all up close and personal.
 

After, joined up with Divyia and Charlene and stood by the side as they basked, glowed and squealed their disbelief, and a few other people joined them and did all of those things, too. Picked up Xueh Wei and a junior. Awesome moment when we were all on the escalator and Xueh Wei started singing and everyone behind us sang along. The power of fans. It did get me to thinking, though, and I think I finally understand my innate hate for these radio-friendly pop tunes. Before the concert really started, they played a lot of MTV favorites like 'Call Me Maybe' and everything by One Direction and it really just got me to thinking. Watching all of these people have the time of their lives and support someone they care an awful lot for is, of course, nothing short of food for the soul for me. It gives me a certain kind of hope knowing that people can put aside their differences and stand shoulder to shoulder under the name of 'fans'. But one thing that really doesn't sit well for me is how young these fans are.

I don't know, I guess at that young age, the type of media that you consume is really important. I was into Harry Potter and fantasy fiction and, you know, forever hold my peace, that changed and altered the entire course of my life, and now I can't take any of that back. Harry Potter was good for the soul, and so was its fandom, as crazy as it was, because we all came together to love a book that was full to the brim with love and that teaches us some of the most valuable and useful life lessons I could have ever wished for as an eight year old. That was my formative years. Regardless, I kind of did turn into a stone cold bitch, but I'd rather attribute that to my environment rather than the things I was reading, watching, listening to. These children who are fans of One Direction and Justin Bieber and whatever else kind of music MTV is prone to endorsing (Taylor Swift, for example) are exposed, at a very young age (at a formative age), to pop songs that are mostly about, well, love. And it's ridiculous love. It's unrealistic, fantasy, fictional, probably-never-gonna-happen-to-you kind of love. And if it's not love? It's heartbreak. Really unrealistic portrayals of heartbreak. Taylor sings about traditional love stories and glorifies slut-shaming, not to mention to the fact that she writes sad songs (and borderline psychotic songs) about possibly every single breakup she's ever been through. She doesn't portray what it's like to be a strong girl. She's just kind of whiny. And One Direction and Justin Bieber make music about the girls that they 'like' and it's all too good to be true. I wouldn't want anybody as young as seven or eight to be listening to that, in case they get the wrong idea of what is expected of boys when they grow up and start crushing on everyone. It's just kind of misleading the kids. They're young, they're impressionable, they don't really have a good grasp on what's fiction and what's reality (as evidenced by my eleven year old self actually thinking I had a chance at a Hogwarts letter), and all of these lyrics can be imprinted on them as a sign of a functional, working, healthy relationship, no exceptions.

I don't really mind that my friends are into these things, because they're older and they've had a chance to face some form of heartbreak or another. Younger audiences enjoying songs like 'Boyfriend' is just on the wrong side of creepy for me. Plus, certain songs like 'Call Me Maybe' is just... words. With background music. There's nothing wrong with enjoying the more overrated side of things. It takes a certain courage, in fact, to stand up and say, 'You know what, One Direction's not so bad.' But when you're way too young to understand hormones, you shouldn't be listening to this sort of stuff, and people shouldn't keep targeting their audiences to be prepubescent younglings if they're going to sing about relationships. I'm not saying the children aren't going to grow up and get into relationships and kiss and go to whatever bases they please, but at a young age, it's just important to establish some ground rules, some principles, and learn something amazing about the world before the world rears its ugly head on you, and pop tunes is not the place for them to be developing these kinds of things.

I went home after walking around with Xueh Wei for a bit. Practically half the crowd left after Justin performed, so there was no guilt on my end, especially considering the fact that I didn't even know any of the other acts following the Biebs. My dad, being him, parked three blocks over. Maybe four. I cried. When I got home, I began fretting about all of the things I still had left to do over the weekend. My dad and I were supposed to go to an education expo at Midvalley, I was supposed to go to Times Square with some people on Sunday, I also had to pick up Xueh Wei's present while at Times Square, Raihan also invited me to watch The Amazing Spider-man, all of that. On Sunday. I was greatly looking forward to it.

Plans were changed and rearranged and switched around so many times, I just sort of gave up on Sunday morning and left everything in God's (and Raihan's) hands. I woke up at the appropriate time that day, thank God, because what happened that day was not something I could afford to miss out on. I tried in vain to contact Nisa, but she was on her Day of Rest (after the YE sales and her PRS farewell, the one she organized and was the de facto chairperson of) so I left feeling sort of apprehensive about the day, because I was about to hang out with Raihan alone. She didn't share similar reservations, though. She asked me to pick her up at Afreena's house because she was there to pick up some stuff. I went without any complaints. Raihan had already sacrificed her initial Paradigm plan because I insisted we went to the further education expo at Midvalley. So I waited outside the house, telling my dad about how Afreena was set to fly back in a week's time, and Raihan came out, and then a few minutes later, guess who came out? 

 

Afreena had planned the surprise and strung us all along and I screamed! I am still screaming thinking about it now. What a minx! What a trickster! What a rascal, scoundrel, poophead! We went to Gardens and bought our tickets for The Amazing Spider-man (not 3D because we were all broke as a poor camel's back) before heading to the food place. I had lunch (and finished the whole plate, in your face!) while Afreena was still kind of jet-lagged and without appetite and Raihan had just had breakfast and couldn't finish her meal. I sat alone once again for the movie (it was those two-seater Premium class theater) but I'm very used to that and sat comfortably and even laid down at one point. It gave me all the space I wanted to wriggle around in my inability to stand the cuteness that was Andrew Garfield. It's hard to imagine that just a few years ago, I was head over heels obsessed with this guy, but last year, all of my energy and focus was spent solely on Chris, so all of the other celebrities I liked were sadly neglected. Sorry, Andrew! At any rate, I don't feel comfortable stanning him shamelessly because of how many of my friends are faux obsessed. I know, I know, pretentious, but that is a label I'm not totally opposed to.

We went to visit the expo for a moment and naturally it didn't live up to my expectations. For the most part, it was exactly like the school's career week booths but with more people to entertain you and I just couldn't. I'm very interested in planning my future and all, and I would love to get started as soon as I can but I'm not going to go sit next to someone I don't know and ask clueless questions. It's just not within my nature, and frankly, frightening. So we left pretty soon. Raihan slipped in some pretty convincing lies to the people shoving flyers in our faces somewhere in the middle of us walking around. I was duly impressed and couldn't stifle my giggles. Medal of honor for dishonesty, Raihan.

After that I went to Times Square with Maze, Syaz, Helena and Shu Wen, which I do not want to talk about, so I won't. Insert traditional ending to a Grade A blog post. The reason why I don't give a crap about the end of a post at all lately is because I usually write them three weeks later.

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