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.

Confession no.20

When I get pissed off,

I'll be all passive aggressive with you

Wonderfully so.