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.

Bitching About a Bitch.

It has been quite some time that a girl made my blood boil like a witch's potion in a cauldron. Or is that bubbling? It also has been some time since a girl has made me reacted with such emotions and makes me want to break into a song. Or more like one of those screaming metal songs that are full of beeped out words.

I don't get mad/annoyed/dislike someone easily. But when I do, there's no turning back. I'll find faults in every single step you take, every single word you utter and every glance in my way is an invitation to be bitch smacked.

I know, its immature of me but I've never claimed I act my age, true?

To get to the real story, there's this girl who makes me want to scream into a pillow from pent-up annoyance and anger. Why?

1. She treats me as if I'm a kid and dumb.

2. She's bossy.

3. She's a power hungry bitch.

4.. She often uses phrases like "Hanis, you have to sweep the floor. You know how to, right? Surely your mother has taught you,"


Bitch, that is low. And FYI, we use the vaccum cleaner at home.

And because I just reallly despise everything about her, I'm irked by her way of speech. She talks deliberately and slow, as if I'm dumb.

Hanis stares at seal oil and asked if its better or the same as fish oil.

Girl who irks Hanis but teaching about the items goes all Ahhhh.

"Seal oil is better. What is a seal, Hanis? Do you know what it is?"- in a very "You're young and dumb" tone.

This took place in Malay apart from the word "seal oil" and "fish oil,".

Its like someone asking me, girl who's doing maths if she knows how to integrate (I'll integrate your ass).

Do you see why my annoyance went from meh to asdkaskjdakjdakjakl? Is it unreasonable? No. And blerggggghhhh.

*takes a deep breath*

I'm seriously considering quitting my job. Mama is okay with it as long as I look for another job and tell the boss the exact reason of my quitting. Oh yes I will. No holding back.

As Mozart will say, I've bitched about her everywhere the past day.

Peace Out.

A Letter for Guys.

Dear guys,

Do accept the fact that girls will tell their friends about 80% of the things that went on between you and her. Its the way girls are. Wives gossip. Girlfriends gossip. Even that girl who you're having a "thing" with gossips. Only about 5% of girls don't.

So do get over it and don't be hopping mad because she told her friend what you guys did during the weekend or how you made up or why you fought. Girls need a 2nd look at it, so they'll get a much better understanding of such situation.

As long as we're not telling about how you can't get it up, the time you dressed like a frenchmaid or how you're deathly afraid of spiders, then shut up.

Love,

Twist, Lick and Dunk? Hell No.

As a kid, I remember sitting with my dad with a packet of Oreos between us. We didn't split the dozen or so cookies into two. We had another simple method. Dad took the white cream part while I gobble up the cookies.

Brilliant, right?

That is exactly why I was slightly disgusted by the whole 'Twist, Lick, Dunk" campaign that has been going on for years now. I hate the cream with a passion, and can now, at this age tolerate two Oreos without wanting to scrape the cream off with a knife.

Unless you're talking about the Oreos with peanut butter & chocolate cream, now those are heavenly. A bit like Reese's if I might say.

Twist seems to be a logical move to get the top cookie off without breaking it into two. I can do that.

Lick. Do you lick a piece of fried chicken and dip it into chilli sauce? Or perhaps lick a french fry and dip it into ketchup? Or any other food.

Dip. Into the milk. Making it all wet and crumbly perhaps. Dripping milk all over the place. Your lap. The desk.

*shudders*

So if you ever want to share a packet of Oreos with me, make sure its the peanut butter/chocolate filling or bring a damn butter knife and be ready to get sick from all that cream.

Hidden Lesson. Find It.

Dear guy who came in for a hot water bottle,

Thank you for making me smile the rest of my shift with the "I don't believe this" look you shared with me over how some people just stop listening at a question after the first few words. And also for the "Oh god, I can't believe this," look when the 2nd and 3rd time of repeating the question was once again answered with a totally wrong answer.

When finally, the correct one came, you made me stop feeling like a sub-par sales assistant by deliberately taking the hot/cold pack from my colleague and giving it to me with a twinkle in your eyes and a "I'll take it". That was a snub on my colleague, for sure.

Thank you for the smile after you paid for the item, you certainly gave my esteem a boost. I do hope you come again.

Sincerely,

I'm a Bookworm. Universal Fact.

I'm on a roll of ebooks. Reading one after another. Right now, I'm reading Jodi Picoult's Sing Me Home and like all of her books I've read before, it makes me feel things. It makes me think. Seriously, Jodi Picoult's books are ... amazing. For me.

In case you're wondering, they're legal fiction, or perhaps like John Grisham but not so dry. I've read her books about a rape case, murder pact but where only one died, euthanasia, mass killing at a school and kidnapping. In all of her books, she's telling the story from the defender's part. Showing you how things could be.

The current one touch about same-sex couples and about them having children. You know what I feel about homosexuality. Its a matter of indifference for me. They're happy that way. End of story.

If you're interested to read the novel, do download it from here, yes its free and I quote from Marian Keyes' Other Side of the Story:

"What I like better than a book is a free book,"

If you're not interested, that wonderful blog also contains many other free ebooks to download. Its like a gold mine to me, and other bookworms. Just take a look at the list of authors at the side and I'm sure you'll be drooling. Or screaming in pleasure.

If only a guy will come up to me and tell me:

"I'll love you at any weight, consider you gorgeous at any age and buy any books your heart desire"

My life would be perfect.

What I Want.

I want to sit in a cave, throw rugs all over the floor with fat cushions to lean against. Books in crates with chocolates, dark chocolate please, for me to nibble on as I let myself wander into the different world each book offers.

I want it to rain pins and needles as I enjoy myself, raining hard upon him, hurting him bit by bit. Hacking on his flesh bit by bit as he vainly tries to look for shelter. He'll fall to his knees near the cave entrance, wanting to beg. Grovel as the grass under him changes colour with his blood.

I want him to feel the pain he has inflicted. To cry the tears that I did.

I want guilt to consume his very being. Darkening his soul as he wander aimlessly, mumbling his sins to himself as people stare. Ignoring his appearance as he stagger through the day, calling out for me and my forgiveness.

That's what I want now.

Pencil, Please.

Take a pencil,
Never a pen of any colour,
Make it blunt or sharp,
Dark or faded,
Short or long,
Any pencil will do,
Scribble write draw,
All over or just on the corners,
Of my piece of paper,
I'll just take an eraser,
Patiently erasing every single dot and line,
Leaving it clean, crumpled,
No hideously obvious,
Doings of yours.

Poem For a Boy.

Dear boy,
Stop talking and spilling,
Sweet lies from your lips,
Running all over my skin,
Stroking down my spine,
Landing deep in my heart,
Ripples and splashes galore,
An echo of false promises,
Your lips gave to my heart.