My Mind is Bonds Fried.

I spent the past two hours completing an assignment for Actuarial Programming. It is basically taking the things we've learned in Actuarial Math and Financial Math, making it into an excel program. Basically, taking a question that might take you around 5-10 mins and making it into something that can take an hour. Or more.

Our lecturer gave us this assignment.

"Set up a bond ammortization table. The following items must be there: Interest, fix/par value,redemption value, coupon rate, coupon payment method"

I delayed doing this since Friday because my Risk of Theory aka Financial Math bible was in a bag somewhere under my bed. Yes, its that hard to take the bag out. Till tonight, I was bored so coughing out barely there dust bunnies, I got the book and decided to start on this assignment.

I sat on the dining table since I still don't have a desk in my room. I was armed with the text book, a pencil, a piece of paper, my calculator and of course, my laptop. Everyone in the house heard my sighs, groans and crazed mutterings.

I thought I was done 90 mins later and even sent it to Mozart, gloating about it until I saw some mistakes. He went to bed, I continued cursing the damn assignment. After some tinkering here and there, I think I got it down.

I saved it, remembering the two times excel died on me, making me restart the whole thing. That was torture. I was clossssseee to throwing something. The assignment is due in 2 days, yes I'm being early for once. A day in history.

I'm currently on page 139 of The Girl Who Played With Fire.

Song of the Moment: High by Lighthouse Family.

Hiding in My Room.

I can see a pattern of me posting short, whimsical posts that are about my current thoughts, doings and so-on. I think it helps with my stress level which ultimately help me avoid a mental breakdown.

I'm also becoming fond of making lists in stating my points. Like, it make things way easier, right?

1. It looks like I'll be commuting to class every day. It might be fun and alright if only my classes didn't end at 6.00pm for 3 days and 8.00pm for one.

2. I'm still sore about not getting a place when gah, there's so many urgh... nepotism, if that is even the correct word, going on. I summed it up to Mozart as:

"I'm too priviliged to be eligible for a room and I'm not priviliged enough to have some inside help"

Aka, I'm too fucking "rich" to be allowed to live on campus because obviously I should rent somewhere off campus but then I'm not rich enough to know someone who can pull some strings for me even though I so can afford a car.

3. In order to adapt myself to studying at home, which is not the best place for me, I asked the parents for a desk and a chair in my room. Yes, I don't have any of those. Just a bed, two bookcases, two cupboards and a dressing table.

It turned from me looking at desks online in order to get an idea of what I want to me proclaiming my whole room needs a makeover because I want to dedicate a wall to a built in desk and bookcases. With a chair on wheels.

4. I'm just so plain lazy at the moment, making Mozart frustated. Currently holed up in my room, hiding from visitors. Yes, I don't like people that much. Especially when they come into my territory aka my house

5. I'm currently on page 101 of The Girl Who Played With Fire.

6. I watched Hercules, the Disney movie, last night for no reason.

Love,

Losing My Chuck Virginity.

Remember what I was planning to do? Well, it failed. I was so close to getting a place but damn it. Mama sent me to the place around 9.30am, giving me enough time to get to my 10.30 class.

But

That class got cancelled. So I took my sweet time, visiting the uni's bookstore and the first thing I saw was the "Clearance Section". Novels going on from 9 to 13 ringgit each. Which is around ... 1/4-1/3 of the normal price for a paperback book.

Malaysians aren't known for being big readers. Well, there's more non-readers than readers. Or perhaps that's the case for English books but I was the only one at that section, looking for a book and everyone else was busy looking at textbooks. God people, you should get your priorities right.

I picked up a copy of Chuck Palahniuk's Rant, breaking my Chuck virginity which I think amused Mozart a bit when I texted him that. I've only read the first chapter but it seems promising. Gruesome too.

The book cheered me up a bit from the depression that set upon me from the rejection. Fast forward 2 hours later I was in a better mood after a nice lunch with friends, contemplating if the 2 o'clock class would be on.

Then

I became a girl again, made shopping as a therapy. I bought a pretty grey scarf and two small clip on bows for my hair. A pink one with a dazzly center and a black one with polka dots. I got the first one in my hair right now, feeling prettier than normal even though no one can see me.

Two more classes and I'm done for the week, ready for my friend's invitation on Saturday which I hope will be serving her mom's tasty smackalicious, lip licking spaggeti.

I'm currently on page 370 of the Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

Song of the Moment: Love You Like a Love Song by Selena Gomez.

Stealing From Mokesart.

I envy Mozart right now for his energy. More like for the fact that even when he's being "unreliable" he is still posting. Look at me? Barely a handful for the past few months.

I'm still waiting to get a room at one of the uni's hostels. I'm this close of begging laying down the reasons why I should get a place.

1. On the days I have an 8.30 class, I arrive at uni around 6.40 thanks to Dad who has to leave earlier than usual to send me before work. Oh yes, its 3 out of 5 days.

2. On the days my class finishes at 6.00, I have to wait for Dad who has to make way through traffic, bypassing where we live before turning back after picking me up. Today, I waited at the faculty for nearly 2 hours. 4 out of 5 days.

3. I got asthma. Which apparently, is triggered by fatigue. Like, I don't think I'll feel this tired if I'm the one driving back and forth. But when someone is sending me and picking me up. With hours and hours in between, its bound to catch up on me. I need a freaking room before I get an attack.

4. Ignore no.3

5. That figure you see on Dad's salary slip? That's all we're living on. We don't own houses that we rent. We don't have a private business. Like, most people. You know, most of those people who shows their parent's pension slip, well, big chance is the parent owns their own business or is still working somewhere else.

6. Trust me, if we had enough money, I'll be driving a car right now.

7. I don't think I'll study effectively at home.

Right now, I'm reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo to refresh my mind before going on to the 2nd and 3rd book. The book helps me through my boredom at uni.

I wanted to blog about how my progress with all of those hard to remember subjects. Then I got this sudden wave of tiredness. I take that as a sign from the gods above.

"Hanis, don't write about those bloody classes."

And to steal something from Mozart, I'll be starting a Song of the Moment section. Mind you, it won't happen all the time.


Song of the Moment: Wish You Were Here- Avril Lavigne.

Confession No.23

All those crazy things you said,

You left them running through my head.

Ranting About Abortions.

Abortions.

What do you think of that?

What I don't get is how some male politicians/stateman/senators/public figures are against it.

Do they have the risk of getting pregnant?

I'm not even going to answer that. Like, unless you're the father of the baby or the person who will be responsbile for it in some way, you should just shut it.

I'm in the middle of Camp "Anti-Abortion" and Camp "Its Her Body". It's like: if you were raped and you got pregnant, I'm all for aborting it. If you were told the baby will be seriously defected and will be going through a hard life of pain and surgeries with a minimal chance of surviving, why put the pain on them? I know there are couples who do that. Take care of the baby. So the kid will know that it is loved. But come on, not everyone can go through the pain of losing a child.

Spare me the freaking "killing a human being" guilt talk. Tell that to the couple who's been childless for years and when she finally got pregnant, the doctor tells her that it's very risky, mortal-risk but they still go on because dear hubby would love the child or the wife wants to at least, leave something for her family.

As far as I know, that wife who could be risking her life is a human being too. Which guilt will be worse, aborting the child or having the mother die due to complications?

Looking at the other side of the coin, if you're going to do an abortion, again, why don't you just go and get your tubes tied? First time might be an accident but more than that, you're plain stupid.

You should look at other factors too such as culture and religion. In some places, having a baby out of wedlock is normal. In others, well, having a baby out of wedlock here would be gossip. People will think differently of you. I don't blame a woman here if she wants to get an abortion. Just don't be stupid and do anything to put yourself in that situation again.

Its your body but don't abuse it.

Guys, its just ... its not you who have to experience having a watermelon being pushed out of a kiwi sized hole.

Ticket to Dreamland.

I wrote this when I was 16.

I wait everyday,

For the sun to set and the stars to dance,

In a merry party of cheese and crackers with the lonely man on the moon,

With crickets leading the orchestra,

Waiting for the sandman to come and visit me,

All snuggled up under my quilt with pictures of cats on it,

Ready to be given a ticket to Dreamland,

Where a boy with the sweetest smile is waiting for me,

With a bouquet of wild roses and a slice of apple pie,

No judgement and shyness occurs,

Not as in reality where we both look away when we pass,

Where I have to return to every morning,

Where no bouquets and no pie awaits me,

No boy with the sweetest smile,

Sad, isn't it?,

Wish I could get a one way no return ticket to Dreamland.

Showing off My Wares.

Yesterday, I went to this darling bookstore and there was this deal of "Buy2 Get 1 Free" that applied to about 80% of the books there. Its a small store but the walls are lined with shelves which are packed.

I was in heaven and asked the owner( I think he is the owner) if he had any J.R Ward books and he was all smiley "Oh yes we do" and brought me to the very back and BAM, I saw a stack of the Black Dagger Brotherhood books.

Fact: I have the first 7 books, having collected them over 2-3 years at the recommendation of a friend when she found out I love vampires that actually die/fatally injured when the sun shines on them.

Fact 2: The first 7 books are titled Dark Lover, Lover Eternal, Lover Awakened, Lover Revealed, Lover Unbound, Lover Enshrined, Lover Avenged. Let me tell you it was a pain whenever I wanted to buy one. Apart from the first one, the rest sounds the same to me. Often I had to read the blurbs at the back because I remember the books based on which Brother it was about. Wrath, Rhage, Zsadist, Butch,Vishous, Phury and Rehvenge(Technically he's not a Brother).

So there I was, staring at the books, my hope of finding the 8th or 9th book not so high since I've been dissapointed everytime I look for them in bookstores.

Then, BAM. I saw a thick book, as thick as Lover Avenged but it was Lover Mine aka John Matthew's story. Right there I had a book orgasm AND a fangirl moment. Right away my fingers were holding on to it as if it would lead me to my one true love. Greediness and eagerness made me ask the guy.

"Do you have the 9th book?"

"Well, the paperbacks coming in few weeks"

*insert another fangirl moment*

And this was before I saw the whole "Buy 2 Get 1 Free" sticker on the book. What followed was me walking around the store about half a dozen times, looking for two more books. I looked around for Marian Keyes, to buy another book from the Walsh sisters series.

Fact 3: Walsh sisters, there's 5 of them. Claire in Watermelon, Maggie in Angels, Rachel in Rachel's Holiday, Anna in Anybody Out There? and Helen in a book that's not out yet. I've read the four books and till yesterday, I thought there were a 5th book.

Fact 4: Anybody Out There? is such a beautiful book, all bittersweet and about moving on that it made me cry, every single time.

Fact 5: I just bought Angels two weeks ago and it was a great read.

I debated on getting another Jodi Picoult but being a fan of the character Jordan McAfee, I didn't know which book to get because I already read the 3 books he's featured in.

I then saw The Girl who Kicked the Hornet's Nest which is the 3rd book in the Millenium Trilogy. I have the first two books about a year ago and might have forgotten to buy the third one. That became my second choice.

Fact 6: The author of the trilogy died, leaving three finished books and a manuscript for his 5th book, not the 4th since he thought the 5th one was more interesting. Its really sad since the man planned to write 10 books in the series. The first book might take you some willpower or time but once you hit few chapters, you'll get addicted.

So, the hunt for the 3rd book began which saw me considering Chuck Palahniuk, James Patterson, another vampire young adult book that's in a series, and oh so much more.

The 3rd book is basically a book I picked for the title which attracted me. The blurb behind it was good too. What book is it?

The Abstinence Teacher by Tom Perotta.

You can guess how happy I was while paying for it. I only paid for the first two books and was practically skipping out of the store, vowing to myself to save up and buy books there again.

Not to forget, the other three books I bought before. Starcrossed by Josephine Angelini, Angels by Marian Keyes and a 2-in-1 book by Sarah Webb( It Had to Be You and Three Times a Lady)

As my Facebook status say now,

Nothing feels better than spending your hard earned money on books.

Love,

Confession No.22

10 months.

On the calendar.

I won't wait. I promise.

After Four Months.

The last time I had such ample time to laze around and let my mind gather dust was back in 2007 during that 7 months between taking that last paper for high school (it was the evil Biology) and starting uni. It was .. bad. Like, my hand became a stranger to the concept of writing. My mind found the thought of sitting in a class and concentrating for 2 hours as torture.

That, kinda affected my studies for that first semester. I was a walking dusty mind. With shaky handwriting.

My four months of lazing my mind is coming to an end as I'm starting my new semester on Monday. I'm already in "Damn it, I'm sooo lazy" way of thinking.

1st thought: Yeay!! Back to school.

2nd thought: Damn it. No more lazing about.

3rd thought: I need to buy school supplies.

4th thought: God, look at all the subjects I have to take.

Seriously, the 4th thought is so scary I can't even remember the name of my subjects. There's 7 in all, just like last semester. But there's plenty of differences.

Last semester, I had Marketing and Economics to help me. I'm a girl in a math related degree who excels in memorising subjects. This time around? Its all math, apart from English(Report Writing ffs) and Arabic 2 (Kill me someone. No, go back to when I was registering for Arabic 1 and make me take Germany or Italian). Well, I think its all math.

Let me consult my self-made schedule.

I just got a headache from looking at the names of my subjects.

Kill me someone. Just freaking kill me with a hatchet or a chainsaw.

*clears throat* Sorry for that mild panic attack readers.

This wonderful 2nd semester of being a degree student, I'll be commiting intellectual/mental suicide taking:

1. Risk Modelling - What is it? I have no idea. Nothing to do about the risk of models falling off catwalks and tripping over a dress with a price tag that can feed my family for a year. I think.

2. Fundamentals of Regression Analysis- This, is something I know I learned 2 years ago. It was the last chapter if I'm not mistaken of Applied Statistics. God. A whole subject on that?

3. Actuarial Programming - I figure I'll be using the computer lab for this. A wild guess. Just cause there's Programming in the name does not mean it would be another Visual Basic Programming Hanis. *falls to knees* Please please please. That subject was torture. And I had to take it twice and still came out with a C+.

4. Stochastic Modelling for Actuarial Application - Sto-freaking-what? That sums it up I think.

5. Actuarial Maths 2 - Finally, something I know of. Its a continuation of Actuarial Maths 1 from last semester. I got a ... B for it. Hey, that's good for someone who stuffed herself with the bloody subject for few days before the paper. I swear my grade was jeopordised because I had no clue what to do when they ask for... this one particular type of .. something. I don't remember.

6. Report Writing - Great, another English subject that will be boring. What has happened to English classes that are fun?

7. Arabic 2 - I can only say "I'm so hungry" in Arabic with confidence. Ana jaw'an jiddan. Forgive me for the spelling errors in the 3 words.

At the moment, the schedule is a bit topsy-turvy since there's two slots that have two classes in it. Like, on Tuesday 2pm, I got Arabic AND Sto-freaking-what. Like, I need a Time-Turner please. I'll need it on Monday and Tuesday.

What will I do with my last few days? Enjoy my sleeping time. Like, duh. And, blog. I'm so lacking behind in my posts.

Love,

Remember Me By.

Mozart's dad once gave him a piece of advice which to me sounded like it should be included in the Book of Wisdom.

"Live life as though you were reading your own eulogy".

This made me think beyond of what I want in life. It kinda made me see things in a new perspective. It made me not look at what to achieve in my lifetime. But to look at what I want to achieve after my lifetime.

You must be confused right now.

Example
As a bookworm, a person who loves to buy books and collect them, I won't be concerned on people commenting on what I read. I'll be more concerned on what my children will their children about me when I'm no longer on this planet.

"My mother was very well-read and loved spending hours in a bookstore."

God, bad example, right?

*imagines Mozart facepalms*

I'll just go straight to the point.

When I die, I'll want people to talk about me in a way. I want my children to tell their grandchildren about me. I want someone to get a soft look in their eyes as they smile, saying

"She was and will always be loved"

Simple as that. Nothing about how different I am. Nothing about my dreams. All I want to be remembered for is that I was loved.

It doesn't sound that difficult to achieve, right?

What do you want to be remembered by/as?

Part Two of My Absence.

I put on 2lbs in 5 days. Which mind you, is good considering my track record of gaining 2lbs for each 1lb I lose in the fasting month.

That was a piece of info I thought you guys might like.

My Eid was ... alright. Its often the kids who enjoy it. Or the people who live so far away from their family. Me? I try to do as minimum work as I can. What, work on a day of celebration?

Well, we take the chance to visit families and neighbours and friends. For some, this is the annual chance to oooh and ahh over Mr A's new house or take a lookie at the marriage candidates pool.

....

I'm just kidding.

Its mostly catching up with each other, remarking on how pretty/big/well you look while filling yourself up with cookies and yummy food. Then you'll go on to the next house and when it comes to the 3rd house, you'll pat your tummy and say

"I just had a lot to eat at So-and-so's house. Have to watch my waist! Har har har"

I visited my mom's youngest uncle and his family. Of course, I ate some while his grandchildren and my little cousins run amok around me. The mothers were too busy remarking on how pretty the outfits were this year.

Another piece of info. We buy new traditional clothes, dress to the nines(for some) and try to pass it off as "This old thing? I only bought it last minute/at a 50% discount/few months ago/at a horrifying sum"

Then, my grandma's house were attacked by her nephews and nieces with their respective families. I was stuck in the kitchen or to be more precise, the sink after changing into casual clothes. Can you imagine the number of plates I have to wash when at first 3 cars came, then another 5?

It was kinda hectic that I didn't get to have my lunch until it was dinner time. Yes, a bit of exaggeration there but still. I sneaked off at 4pm to sleep in a room that had no ceiling fans, or any kind of wind provider. I woke up an hour later all sweaty with an oily face.

Day 2 started with my attempt at wooing my 1 year old cousin. Close but no cigar you know? We( my family and 3 more aunts and their families) went to visit my mom's younger brother.

Yada yada yada.

It was alright. We headed back home on the 3rd day and here I'am, spending my day lazily. Chores and sleeping. HEAVEN.

And that's where I went off to.

Part One of My Absence.

Warning: You might be tempted to google the words in bold.

I was kidnapped by aliens who decided I was the perfect specimen to do research on. When we got there, they found I was lacking so they sent me back after giving me the whole tourist guide shebang.

I mean.

I was abducted by a gang of gypsies that sold me to a harem of belly dancers where they trained me to perfection before the owner said I had such a stubborn look on my face I wouldn't do.

Oh wait.

I had to go to some faraway land filled with hot white guys who fawn over me.

No.

It was Eid Mubarak and as tradition states over here, most of us will balik kampung which means going back to our hometown into our family's bosom. But if someone's like me, born and bred near the city area, we'll go back to a respective parent's hometown. And that is a battle in itself.

Mama: Hanis, whose side did we celebrate the 1st day of Syawal with?

Hanis: I don't remember.

Dad: Mine of course.

Mama: No, no. Mine

Bro: I'm not involved in this at all.

This year, we went to Mama's hometown. A 4 hour long drive, that is without traffic jam where I spent about 3.5 hours sleeping in the back seat since we went back on the 2nd last day of fasting so we couldn't get any snack breaks.

Mama comes from quite the countryside though we don't have that scenery, perfect for tourism place where the wooden house on stilts is placed so near some paddy fields. God, far from it. The nearest we have is some oil palm plantation.

Hanis at age 15: Mama, I think the plantation would be a great place to make a horror movie.

Mama: Hanis. Don't.

What did we do? First of all, we don't have indoor plumbing. Back when I was a little girl, the toilet was a stall about 20 feet away from the house, surrounded by wild animals bushes and maybe some lizards. I remember crying and Mama asking the front door neighbour who had a good old fashioned inside bathroom if I can use it.

Few years later, we had a toilet built in the ... garage, if you can call it that. Its basically a small building attached to the house but where you have to exit through the kitchen door and walk a bit to the garage and let yourself in. Its ... well, its better than that shack in the middle of lizard land.

Mama comes from a big family, she's the 3rd of 8. This time around, we had at most, 7 out of 8 in the house at the same time. That's 14 adults including my Grandma and 22 grandchildren. And I was the 2nd oldest with the eldest being married and having her own little boy.

There's plenty of little hellspawns ones with the cute toddlers and babies all disliking/torturing me.

So, on the day before, we cooked up a storm with ketupat, nasi impit, beef rendang, chicken curry and noodle soup (Mi Sup) filled with bits and pieces of beef, fat and tripe. Imagine, big big woks and pots filled with food.

Us Malaysians are all about food. Trust me.

Oh dear, this post is getting too long. Next post will be about how my first two days of Syawal went and of course my trip back to civilisation home.

Peace Out.

Happy Birthday.

Its Mozart's birthday today. Go on and wish him a happy birthday and you'll make him feel like a happy god. Not to mention, you'll get a godkid.

A Tale of Pierced Ears.

The Build-up

A decade ago, I had my ears double pierced. Wait, not at the same time. That would be crazy.

I first got my ears pierced at the tender age of 6 after begging my parents to let me. It all started when I met Mama's cousin's daughter's ears. (That was complicated)

So my parents took me to Poh Kong (A gold shop as we call it or as you guys know as a jewelery shoppe) and made me sit on a high stool as a pleasant looking man came closer with a mini gun.

20 seconds later I was crying and running around the place with a freshly pierced ear all red and throbbing. Dad caught me and tried to comfort me.

Dad: Hanis, you'll look silly with only one ear pierced.

Hanis: But it hurttttttttttsssssss.

(Drama queen since young)

Another man came, older and wiser (to me) and told me the other man wasn't so experienced compare to him.

In my mind, experience = less pain. (Oh wait, I can so use that equation for another thing) So I let him pierced my other ear while I sucked on a lolly and drank juice from a box.

It didn't hurt as much. Theory proven.

Fast forward to 6 years later, I saw a schoolmate who had her ears triple pierced. Eli and I went crazy and tried to convinced our parents to let us do it.

Mama: Double is the limit.

Hanis: Pleaaasssseeee

Mama: No triple.

Hanis: Fineeeee.

I went to Poh Kong again (another branch) and got my second set of piercing. Without tears but with red ears.

I became cool for a month or so. Then it was a normal thing.

Fact 1: I can only wear gold or white gold earrings if I don't want to risk getting itchy/watery/red ears.

Fact 2: I lose my earrings often.

Fact 3: Mama got sick of buying new ones for me.

Fact 4: Fast forward to a decade later, the holes are nearly closed.

The Real Story

Mama dragged me grocery shopping at 9am. God. It was too bright and cheerful. People were all fresh and awake. It wasn't really grocery shopping, more like bits and bobs shopping.

I managed to convince Mama to make steak for today's supper.

Fact 5: While breaking our fast, we eat lightly aka samosa,burgers,fried noodles and leave the heavy stuffs aka rice for supper which is after we get back from the mosque.

While looking for small brooches to wear with my scarves, I saw a piercing gun on display.

Hanis: I want to get my ears pierced again.

Mama: The holes are closed up?

Hanis: I think.

We paid for the bits and bobs and then...

Mama saw a jewelery booth that does piercings. At a cheap price. 10 ringgit including earrings.

That's like 3 Snickers bars with enough to buy a 500ml bottle of mineral water.

The News

I got my ears pierced. Just once. Not twice because I'll wait for a while before doing that.

I know, its just my ears and not like, my nose or navel. But stilllll.

One day, I'll get my navel pierced. Or my tongue. Mozart, I know you're shuddering.

*cackles*

I Need Help.

I've been working and fasting. And we alllll know I get distracted easily. Hence, my blog is being neglected. Mozart is bugging me with his mental powers so I'll update.

I brought his hopes up last night.

Hanis: I'm writing a post

Mozart: *insert some excitement*

30 minutes later:

Hanis: I lost my mood.

Mozart: *insert some sadness*

I get ideas and get excited but the moment I put them down in words, I lose my mood.

But, I'll be taking a few weeks break from Friday so I can prepare myself for my new semester at uni. Which means...

Ding ding ding

I'll have time to think and post.

Few days ago, I was looking through an English exercise books for high school and got interested in the essay topics. And thought to myself:

"Hey, why don't I ask people to tell me what to write about?"

Ding ding ding.

I know Mozart will give an idea, and no, not about you please.

So I'm asking for your lovely help. Think of a topic, nothing too serious like politic, world hunger and so on. Religion and gay marriage is allowed though but prepare for a rant.

If you give me a suggestion, I'll give you a god child (the father will be Mozart so you'll get a musically talented kid on your hands).

So, think away :D

Love,

Kids, Try This At Home.

1. Put in 3-4 tablespoons of Milo or any chocolate powder drink at your diposal of your liking into a blender.

2. Put in a teaspoon of sugar and a dash of cinnamon powder.

3. Put in 4-5 tablespoons of oat. More if you love em.

4. Put in just enough hot water to cover up the mixture.

5. Blend away while cackling like a witch over her cauldron.

6. Pour in some fresh/low fat/soy/skim milk. Not too much. You don't want the milk to overpower the taste.

7. Blend away while laughing like Count Dracula who found a roomful of virgins.

8.Put in 2-3 handfuls of ice cubes.

9. Blend away as you try to laugh like Voldemort.

10. When you don't hear the ice cubes clanking around so much, add some cold water, not too much.

11. Continue blending before pouring the concoction into a tall glass.

12. Enjoy your chocolate oat smoothie thingie while feeling as if you're attempting to be healthy.

My Dirty Little Secret (One)

This is a secret, okay? Don't tell anyone about this.

If anyone ask me what kind of books I like, I'll give them my normal answer.

"I'm a Harry Potter freak who reads Marian Keyes (dark themes in a chick lit), Jeffrey Archer (mind fuck twists), J.R Ward (Hot vampire adventure romance), Jodi Picoult and so on"

What I won't tell people is that I have a secret love for a certain type of books. And no, its not historical romance since I don't mind going all crazy for "How to Marry a Marquess" in the bookstore.

I, Hanis, a mature 22 year old just love to read books that fall under the Young Adult section. Or to be more detailed, I just sigh and swoon over a book about teenagers still in high school.

You know, with all of those crushes, puppy love, infatuations, unrequited love, drama, friendship and so on.

I know.

Why would I want to read something like that?

I had a boring high school life. I wasn't cute/quirky/attractive/smart enough to make it different.

So, I live through those books. Or fictions. I'm just a sucker when its best friends falling in love. Or the popular kid and the nerd. Or anything. I'm up for it.

Just don't make it paranormal or anything. I want it to be a normal high school setting. That is why I've been cruising inkpop and fictionpress these days. Looking for things to read.

Mozart just don't get me.

Now, keep this a secret, okay? Unless you want to send me links of fiction/ebooks to read and I'll give you a godchild.

Two Things and a Picture.

It is:

1) Day 5 of fasting. No migraines, so far which is great. I've ate quite a variety of food and no overeating, yet. Today, I had grilled beef patties in pita bread with salad, tomatoes and onion, coleslaw, and fries. Yes, it was so darn good and filling that the moment I bit into my pita burger, I moaned mentally.

2) My parents 23rd wedding anniversary. It puts me in a moment of awe when I think that my parents have been married for 23 years, not even counting the years they dated. It makes me wistful a bit, thinking, "Hey, will I ever be in their place, able to smirk at the kids and say "23 years""

I'm happy for my parents, they've been through a lot through the years and came out stronger.



Apart from that, I found this old pillowcase I made in arts class about 7 years ago. That's the only time I can remember of actually enjoying the class. I made the design and painted it myself. Except for the lettering, which my friend helped with since I was that clumsy with a paintbrush. Yes, those are butterflies, stop saying it looks like sticks with blue leaves. :P

And under it, you can see my new comforter (not sheets though, perhaps bed-cover?) that makes me feel as if I'm back at this bed-and-breakfast I went to when I was 7 somewhere in Wales. I'll tell you guys about that place in another post.

Love,

August Has a Twin.

First of all, Happy Ramadan to all of my Muslim readers. I hope you guys did well for the first day unlike a certain someone who has a tradition of getting sick during the first two days of Ramadan every single year.

This year, it was migraines. And being feverish. And body aches. And it lasted two days. Gawd. I'm 22 and I still get sick on the first day of the fasting month like a lil 6 year old. But, of course, once I get some food in me, I'll be raring to go. Until I wake up the next morning, migraine greeting me like an old friend.

Hopefully, I'll be all better tomorrow so I can go to work and earn more money to spend on things.

I'll try to be better this month with the posting and less eating for this fasting month. Last year, I put on weight instead of losing them. Can you imagine that?

Its like, a miracle one can lose weight around here especially when they have these bazaars which are about, 100 metres long of stalls selling different goodies. You'll see an old man selling fresh hot soya bean milk beside a lady selling fried char kuew tiaow. Don't forget about those kebabs, chicken rice, briyani, various noodle dishes, grilled-in-front-of-you chicken satays and gods, all those local desserts that you won't find outside of Ramadan.

Let's not even talk about how Mama's already delicious cooking becomes basically mouth-watering at the mere thought. See. How in the world will I be able to lose weight unless you lock me up and supply with less than tasty food.

Do google all those things I've mentioned. Or to make it easy, google "Bazaar Ramadhan" and you'll thank me. Unless you're fasting at the moment and that will just be torture.

Do tell me what is your favourite meal to have in Ramadan (that is, if you're celebrating it).

Love,

Pictures that Prove I Need a New Camera. And Skills.

First thing first, I'm not a habitual picture taker. I'm not even a big fan of pictures.

The whole family is like that. Proof: We still use a film camera.

My phone has a camera, combine with my shaky hand syndrome, you get pictures as below.

I wished I took more pictures of the day.

I'll do it next year or or during my next shopping escapade.

For now, enjoy and ooohs at the pictures.

I can take new ones of the necklace.

I'm in love with this bag. Like, it calllls out to me when I first saw it.

Mama likes it. I love it. Happy ending.

Yes, that is a pink carpet under it. Its oval and been in the house for ages.

My parents room has a blue square one.

That kind of carpet was the rage once upon a time.

The now famous necklace. Yes, I'm the master at taking blurry pictures.

One of my concern at choosing a necklace is the chain.

I wanted for it to be long and not flimsy. This one, is perfect.

Yes, my fingers resemble cocktail sausages. Yes, you're hungry.

No, its not a mind trick.

Another blurry picture. Here, my fingers seem a bit slimmer as I show off

the pocketwatch pendant. I like pressing the button up there to open it and tell

people what time it is. I'm like a kid with a new toy.

To be completely quoting some song, this place is heaven on earth. Its

an orgy for chocolates where chocolate lovers sit in every nook and cranny, moaning

as their tastebuds get sexually assaulted.

Readers, meet the current love of my life. Its a dark chocolate something that

tasted like they took a handful of Dove Dark Chocolate bars and blended it with ice.

I got a brain freeze drinking it and it was so close to being too much chocolate.

I just finished this about 30 mins ago. Cold chocolate cake = awesome.

Usually, my parents will buy 4 slices of cakes. Different as could be.

Like, there will be chocolate, cheesecake, blackforest and a wild card.

But this time, they bought a whole cake.

I'll leave you with how wrong the writing on the cake is.

I'm 20 for ffs, not 22.

I know, Mama wanted to smack the back of my head.

After I screamed on how they got it wrong.

Its My Birthday and I'll Bore You With How It Went.

I'm officially 22 now. And with the arrival of this age, I realised that I love spending the money I've earned on things. Yes, I went shopping today with Ajim. Wait, I shall back up a bit and talk about my birthday.

I never had big celebrations so I just love the wishes and thoughts. Presents? You'll be making my year. Monday is the day off from work. So we made plans to go to this mall and walk around. Perhaps buy things. Buy a new bag.

Its a big ass mall. And we walked around and around with 2 things in mind. A bag for me and a hoodie for my brother. To make it easier, I'll do up the shopping trip in phases. You'll thank me ;D

Phase One

Hit the bookstore, agonize on how they no longer stock J.R Ward's books before being dragged out of the store by Ajim so we can start our shopping trip.

Phase Two
-Go into about half a dozen stores, looking for the two items.
-Become frustated by what kind of hoodie I should buy.
-Walk over couple of levels, going up and down. (Its a big place)

Phase Three
-Comes up with a bright idea to go back to the store Ajim bought a pair of shoes last week.
- Ogle the same turqoise bag I saw last week before falling for the black bag I saw before.
-Bought the black bag after much deliberation.

Phase Four
- Ate at this wonderful fish place.
-Stuffed ourselves full.

Phase Five
- Walk around again while looking for the hoodie.
-Complain on how full and sleepy I'am.
- Call Mama, asking what the lil bro really wants.

Phase Six
-Gives up and walk aimlessly
-Spots some purses and coos over them.
-Gets dragged into a jewelery store.

Phase Seven
-Gets stuck between choices.
- Buy myself a gift for my birthday.

Phase Eight
-Enjoys the blended dark chocolate drink Ajim bought me.
-Gets a brain freeze.
-Tastes heaven on my tongue.
-Spills some on my scarf.

And that's how my shopping trip went. My gift to myself is this long necklace which has this pocket watch as a pendant. Its a bit like the necklace I wanted on Etsy.

The parents bought me cake and I'm still stuffed full from lunch, the dessert and now cake.

*lies in peaceful sleepy bliss on my bed*

To put it in one sentence, its been a wonderful day.

Pictures of the day will be put up later.


Love, the now 22 year old,

Once a Year.

Light a candle,

Close your eyes,

Choose a star,

Whisper a wish,

Be a fool,

One more time.

Its Been a Year. Hurrah.

First of all, due to the world having time zones, my first blogversary will be epic because its going to last for more than 24 hours.

Next, I've been racking my mind throughout the whole time I was MIA-ing from this blog on what to do. And, its nada. Nothing. Zilch. Until now. I should just go for a low-key celebration instead of bringing in the giltter, poppers and drag queens. Irs very tempting though.

And here, to celebrate my one year of blogging, 97 followers, 336 posts and around 550 comments, is a list of my top posts. In the sense of hey, I enjoyed writing this. Do enjoy. I couldn't make up my mind. So, why don't you guys tell me what posts you've enjoyed reading. It might have made you followed me. Or it might have been shared with some friends. Or made you went all "Hell to the yeah".

Just tell me.

Love,

A Letter From the Heart.

Dear You,

My purpose was fulfilled, and I am glad. I got over you and it wasn't with malice. It was
poignant. Bittersweet. Why was it so easy? I think perhaps both of us have changed over
the years and that just lead to my realisation. But, I have to add, you've grown up to be
someone pretty decent. With age comes maturity, as some say. Carpe Diem will have to wait for another chance.

Sincerely,

I'm About a Week Late With This One.

July has always been the month of the year for me. From the start, the no.1 reason is for the simple fact that its my birthday month. Yes, I'm a July baby, a Leo who's not all that proud and obvious of being an attention seeking self-centered whore. *coughs*25th*coughs*

No one in my immediate family shares the same month though all four of us were born in a month starting with J. The closest is my cousin who celebrates her birthday a week before mine. A funny story is that during the year Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix came out (the book) we both got the same present, neither parents knowing it. That didn't stop Dad from saying how he could have saved some money if they made us share the book.

When I started uni, July became the month of a new semester. It was, exciting for me in the same way I was excited for the start of a new school year. Yes, I was that weird. I even read my text books the moment my parents bought them back then. A bit of Hermione Granger there.

Then, for two years in a row, July became a sad month, relationship wise. The first year, I hurt someone so badly at the end of June that I was wrecked by guilt the whole month of July. The second year, as you guys might know from previous posts (Hint: Read last July's posts) my July was spent mostly to heal myself. I was a wreck, yes, I've told this before many times.

This year, I aim to spend this month happily. Perhaps with a nice gift. A nice birthday dinner. Some wishes. Losing some pounds. A compliment. A friend. No heartbreaks. And yes, gracefully getting older by a year. The big 22. This time, I'll spend my birthday in eager joy *wishes for that* while ignoring people's pointed comments on my age and lack of boyfriend. I might even roll my eyes and tell them:

"Better a spinster than to be emotionally tortured in a loveless marriage,"

Wait,that was too .. forward. More like:

"Better be happy like me, than let my heart be vulnerable again in the wrong hands,"

With that, I wish for a good July with this picture of a hopeful me, well more like estastic from that first sip of chocolate mint bubble tea in nearly 2 months.

I'm a Sauce-ist.

Remember my thing against people twisting, licking and dunking? Well, I have another food oddity which is more likely to annoy some people.

First of all, I like burgers and subs. I like piling them with different kinds of sauces. Lamb kebabs are heaven with BBQ sauce and mayo. And that Italian BMT sub? Put every single sauce they have available. I like my burgers practically dripping with chilli sauce.

But when it comes to those sauces being dips, I'm quite particular in making sure they are not mixed at all. Like, don't dip your piece of chicken into the mayo then into the chilli sauce. You'll leave a white mark on the latter and god, I just hate that.

If people do that when its on their own plate, I don't mind. But when you're sharing, let's say a seafood platter and their actions will leave traces of tartar sauce in the chilli sauce, I'll be pissed. Mama often roll her eyes and snap at me when I get into a hissy fit over the chilli in the mayo.

Yes, I've smacked people's hands away from the second dipping with a hiss.

Yes, I got glared at for that.

What if the different sauces are on the same plate? I'll make sure they're not touching each other. If I can put them on different sides of the plate, I'll do it. If not, I'll make sure they got a barrier(potato wedges anyone?) between them.

You guys must be thinking "This girl is crazy." and my brother would agree. What is the benefit of this post? Well, you just found out another weird thing about me and just perhaps, you're getting a tip on what not to do if we ever go out to eat together.

I'm The Model First Child. Hah.

Have you ever heard of the Tiger Mom? She was quite the news when her book came out and tons of people read the article, which had excerpts from the book. If you haven't heard of her, google her. Its worth it.

An excerpt from her book:

"The dynamic in this household is ridiculous," Sophia protested. "I do all the work, and I do everything you say, and I make one mistake and you scream at me. Lulu doesn't do anything you say. She talks back to you and throws things. You bribe her with presents. What kind of 'Chinese mother' are you?"

Sophia really nailed that one. This might be a good time to raise an important part about Chinese parenting and birth order. Or maybe just birth order.

I have a student named Stephanie, who recently told me a funny story. An eldest child and the daughter of Korean immigrants, Stephanie told me that when she was in high school (straight A's, maths whiz, concert pianist), her mother used to threaten her, "If you don't do X, I won't take you to school," And this prospect would strike terror in Stephanie's heart- miss school! So she would do whatever her mother asked. Desperately hoping she wasn't too late. By contrast, when her mother threatened Stephanie's younger sister with the same thing, her sister responeded, "Awesome. I'd love to stay home. I hate school."

There are lots of exceptions of course, but this pattern - model first kid, rebellious second- is definitely one I've noticed in many families, especially immigrant familes. I just thought I could beat it down in Lulu's case through sheer will and hard work.



I'm not Chinese. Nor from an immigrant family. But I'am the eldest of two and what went my mind when I read the paragraphs above was that "Whoa, this is happening to me"

The exact pattern. I'm not exactly a model first kid, but compare to the lil bro, I'm an angel. The lil bro is 14, and being the rebellious younger child, with wild rampaging hormones, I've fought many urges to kick him down the stairs/ push him out of the car/ slam his head into the wall/other violent things.

Yes, my own mother has used the "If you don't do X, I won't take you to school" trick. And yes, it worked every time. Even until now I'm sure. I remember crying as a kid/teenager while scrambling to clean my room. Whimpering in the car ride after about how late I'm gonna be. Dad will be looking at me from the corner of his eyes and make a shuuusssh sound, saying there's plenty of time.

Why, even just last month Mama told me that she'll pull the internet modem's plug off if my room weren't clean by the time she comes upstairs. What did I do? I scrambled around, cleaning my room like a nice little maid.

Another trick is the "I'll be very good if I detect Mama's bad mood". I'll just sit in my room, studying in a clean room, offering to do chores or do stuffs without being asked. I'll be on my best behaviour, all meek like and so-not-wasting-time.

I got presents when I do well at school. When I placed 18th in a class of 36 kids when I was 11, Dad went through with his word.

"One number above 10, you'll be banned from playing on the PlayStation for a week,"

8 weeks of staring at the lil bro playing on the brand new console was torture. The next exam came, I placed 4th.

But when it comes to the lil bro, he'll defy the "no games, no internet, no tv" rule. He'll even retort that he'll do something else. He whines his way out of school once in 2-3 weeks where I was often close to having perfect attendance.

Yes, I complain a lot on the lack of discipline. I rant on how my parents should instill the fear I had for them in him. Make his knees tremble. Make his voice squeak. But no.

"It won't work with your brother"

T.T <--- My face when they say that. If it was up to me, I'll be, oh wait, that's a story for another post.

So, yes, there is a pattern I suppose. But I wonder how it goes if there's more than 2 kids. Will it be a cycle, like every odd numbered child will be the model and the even numbered child will be rebellious? Or, will they get worse?

Letter To a Rude Couple.

Dear Couple at the Swimming Pool,

Its very rude to stare. And you guys were obvious. I walked past 3 times and little wifey said something to hubby and bam, two pair of eyes were looking at me, and out came the not-friendly-but-snide smiles that were accompanied by whispers

Staring at a self concious girl who's less than fit? How mean of you guys. I know you guys probably never saw a Muslim girl in one of those full-on swimming suits that cover everything.

But that doesn't mean you can stare. Rude idiots. Not to mention, not up to date on the fashion. Next time I see you guys doing that to me again, I'm complaining. Like you guys, I'm a paying customer.

Sincerely pissed,

OML & NGE.

Few years ago, I read an article in a magazine which talked about guys who are "Out of Your League". No, I'm not talking about James Franco, Marky Mark or even Rupert Grint. I'm talking about that guy you bumped/saw one fine day in your friend's Facebook/hallway/pumping some irons/choosing a book/wherever else.

That article divided those OYL aka Out of Your League guys into several types. The artistic, the
handsome hunk, the well connected, the sophisticated and god, my memory is bad right now. What I do remember clearly about that article is that one piece of advice.

"Don't treat them as if they're demi-gods. They're just another human being, who, suprisingly might not get approached often due to girls being intimidated by them,"

I can so imagine a gaggle of girls sighing among themselves from across the room about that OML (Out of My League) guy, muttering on how they'll never have a chance.

Even at 16, I was like:

Hell to the yeah.

I didn't take the advice. 6 years has passed, and nope. Like, I get that whole idea when it comes to celebrities. I'm all 'What the fuck are you doing?" when I watch people go all adoring and half worship a celebrity. They didn't save the world from a wild comet. Or saved a baby from drowning. Yes, doctors, firemen and the likes deserve more worship in my opinion.

Oh wait, what's the point of this point?

Well, I think its high time for me to finally take that advice. Not that I have anyone in mind but still, its a great way to go on in your life. I should just think every guy as just another person, regardless of how OML that guy is. And the same goes for girls that you guys think as OML. She's just another human being. Strip away the beauty and glamour, you're left with a person who you better hope is nice and decent.

So what if that OML laughed/rejected/ignored you, they just missed out on someone who's brave enough to go against society's ranks and say Hi to someone on a higher shelf.

And, if they did react in a negative way, that just shows that inside, they're not as wonderful as they look. Yes, I'm about to quote that somewhat overused line:

Beauty fades, Wealth gets spent.

And so on.

Once you know that OML is ugly inside, they've been demoted (in your mind) to NGE aka Not Good Enough. NGE are not based on looks, wealth, social ranks and achievement. NGE are based on that decent part of a human being. That part which makes a person smile and be polite no matter to whom.

If you're lucky enough to meet an OML who's just as wonderful inside, then congratulations. That means there's still hope for the world. I mean, that it shows that the world is not completely filled with people who are that vain.

And don't forget, to some people, you might be seen as OML material (yes, stop rolling your eyes Hanis at that but it might be true), just make sure you don't be a NGE. Or I'll kick you in the ass
before smacking the back of your head with my Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows book.

Remember, every person is just another person.

Confession No.21

Its been a year of self-loving.

I'm happy, lonely at times.

But overall, better than ever.

Torture Day. I'm Kidding.

I'm fasting today.

Wait, its not Ramadhan yet, true?

Yes.

But, every year, we Muslims (god, that sounds so racist or religionist or something) have to fast during the whole of Ramadhan. And every year, I'll pray that it will only be a 29 days month. But no. Its always 30-31 days.

Basically, that means, come rain or shine, you'll have to fast for that number of days. Its the minimum number for that year. Let's just say, I was sick/accidentally pigged out on food/ had my period/multitude of reasons that made me not fast/cancel out the fasting day , I'll have to pay it back.

In simple words, I have to fast the number of days I didn't in Ramadhan for the rest of the year (before the next Ramadhan comes along). It would be common to hear women going "I hope I won't get my period this month. Pleaaaasseeee" or maybe that's just me.

I try my hardest not to miss a day. Even when I'm sick, I'll try to brave it out until Dad has to resist smacking my head into the bowl of soup. But, sometimes, a girl just has to eventually, skip some days. And pay them back.

The highest number was 13 days. And I cried every single damn day I had to fast for that. Its a whole different thing, fasting in Ramadhan and fasting in another month. Just to get past lunch time is torture. I'll be thinking of what I want to eat while breaking my fast at 9am.

T.O.R.T.U.R.E

And, its like, I'm not functional at all, my energy level that is, to do more than rolling around in bed.

Every year, I'll cram those days into the last couple of months before Ramadhan, moaning on how in the world did time move so fast.

How many days do I have to pay back this year?

One.

Wahid.

Satu.

Uno.

Yes, you got the idea. It was thanks to having an asthma attack that made the doctor look at me over his glasses with a "No fasting tommorow".

You should have heard my wheezy "NOOOOOOOO" that followed.

Oh well, here's to my completing today and being free from my fasting debt, without any slip-ups. Trust me, it happens.

Letter to My Results. Which Have Arrived.

Dear Results,

Thank you for making me wake up at 3.30am to check if you've arrived in my email. And, thank you for fulfilling all of the wishes I made. Thank you thank you for even putting me on the Dean's List. But dude, just one thing.

A B+? I got a freakinggg B+ for English? Like, oh me gawd, I'm going to have a BF. A Bitch Fit. (Kudos to who can guess which movie inspired this)

But still, I'm so happy and excited. Thank you thank you. Even my parents are proud of me.

Love,

The relieved

Letter to My Results. Which Aren't Here, Yet.

Dear Results,

Do be good. I mean, please be above 3.0 . And , please nothing below B. I'm not going to jinx everything by demanding nothing below A- for two particular subjects. *breathes slowly* If you haven't noticed, I'm panicking over here. No, I'm not running around like a headless chicken, so stop chuckling to yourself.

Please arrive quickly, okay? No delaying for a whole day, which I'm sure would be full-blown torture. And, I studied hard too, so please be good. Do come straight to my email like a good boy, okay? And I'll be happy if you're good.

Love,

The ever worried

Oh My Gawddd.

Oh my gawd.

I had a bad week, to be honest. And slightly nervous since results are rumoured to come out later this week.

But, around 30 minutes ago, I saw a post, this wonderful, oh my so amazing post that said I, Hanis, won a giveaway that I participated in.

*jumps around*

The prize?

An A5 illustration with a theme of my choice.

I'm jumping around for real, bugging Mozart with the news. Agonising on what I want. Like, any specific ideas.

Excuse me while I bother my family and reply to the lovely TJ's email.

Surprises Could Be Nice.

In yesterday's post, I mentioned on having a surprise for you guys. Here it is. Click on it.

With love,

Behind the URL.

I love looking at a blog's URL and wonder how they came up with it. Have you ever looked at mine and thought:

"What does her URL has to do with her blog?"

Most people's URLs has either something to do with their blog's names or the blog itself. What about me? Well, I'm sure Mozart is thinking:

"Nothing at all,"

And he's right.

Let me list it out.

keepthisonealiveinstead.blogspot.com

I Don't Do Boys

Its a long story. Sit down, take a chair, snuggle to your pillow, take another sip of your drink. You'll need it. *clears my throat* Dear children .. Oh wait, wrong crowd.

Around December 09, I had a blog that was mostly read by Noelle and No.3 who I now think, only read it once in a while. He was a jerk in that way. It wasn't a fun blog. Mostly small, frequent posts which were moody like a rollercoaster. I was in love delusional hence it showed on that blog.

It was my *thinks* 6th attempt at blogging. The others died as I got bored with no readers. So, in an attempt of being witty when I actually had no idea, the URL of that blog was somewhere along the line of the current one. Just tweak some words and it was a reference to making sure that blog didn't die too.

Around June last year, things were bad and I was dumped broke up with No.3 *cries in happiness* so I decided to private my blog while I pour poisonous posts on it about what happened. I cried and became depressed over the old posts that indicated my previous state of happiness delusion.

Came July I made a new blog. A new beggining. Which remained empty for 21 days. Why? Because I didn't want it to be a blog of bashing. Well, one without humour. Hence, the URL of this blog is a take on how I failed on the last blog.

The name however comes from how I'm sick of boys, males who are immature emotionally and mentally. Easy as that. Yes, I've been asked if I'm a lesbian ;D No, I'm not. At most I'll call myself bicurious.

Now I wonder, how did you guys came up with your blog's name? If there's a story behind it.

And oh yes, I'll have a surprise for you guys soon.

Random Letter No.5

Dear Random Person No.5

Please please please stop doing these on Facebook:

1. Posting pictures of you:

a) In your "La Senza" boxers. Its tacky. Not sexy.

b) With a "I'm in the middle of an orgasm" face. Its ugly by the way.

c) Showing your face and bare thigh. I swear, my eyes are burning.

d) Taking a sip with a straw. Leave that for Craiglist.

2. Putting up statuses that smacks of self-whoring.

a) Ones of how people keep saying you look like ethicity A when you're only like, less than 50% of it. Oh yes, you don't look like one of them anyway.

b)About how pretty your hair is, according to other people.

c)How people keep adding you up and wanting to get with you. That just means you have that DTF air around you.

3. Butchering the English language.

4. Trying to act as if you're some wordly, open-minded sexually aware person. You look dumb. Seriously. If you want an open minded sexually aware person, look at me. Difference is that I don't go post such "sexual" statuses and act like a Facebook slut.

5. Keep updating on your whereabouts and what you're having for lunch and how you're going offline. I sense an attention seeking whore who might just get a creepy stalker one day.

6. Blowing your horn on your height.

7. Going how you're so fat, like omg, so so fat. Bitch, I'm fat. Not you.

8. Telling it all about your relationships on your wall. The same goes for your friends.

9. Bitching on how people can't judge you, and only your parents can. You know ... you asked for it, basically. I met your father once, absolutely nice fellow. I was SHOCKED to know you're his child. Yes, that is insulting you.


Oh yes, why are you still on my friends list? Well, I need to know that I'm not as pathetic as some. And to anyone who tells you straight that you're a Facebook whore, well, I'm going to write a wonderful letter of congratulations for them on my blog.

Ever so honestly,

Budget of June 2011. I Wish.

I'm going to get my first paycheck any day now. I've counted and got an estimated minimum figure and being the Actuarial Science student that I'am (more like, trying to be responsible) I've made a plan. Or a budget if you want to be politically correct.

Step 1: Put aside 50-55% of it for the ebook reader and possibly phone.

Step 2: Put aside a sum for my food-while-working money.

Step 3: Spend a sum to take my brother out for movies or/and a meal.

Step 4: Buy the first two items from here while telling myself to a) find more pieces to buy and b) wait for the next paycheck while c) hoping no one buys the ones I want.

Step 5: Save the rest and live as if I'm poor. Which I'am.

Wonderful, right?

I'm thinking about putting up a wishlist at the side here, ticking them off whenever I obtain them. It could be very motivating. Or work the other way around.