The summary is done, now one to bigger and better things :)
I am going to eat now, before I do anything else!
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Monday, October 05, 2009
Infestigative
To anybody out there:
Hello to you, yes I'm talking to you. After all, I want to represent you someday. Mwahaha.
Yea so where do I begin as usual? I'm listening to some Bjork and doing an overdue assignment...hmm what else is new? This time though, I swear I have a legitimate reason but due to legal issues, I cannot disclose exactly what I have been up to. Nothing concerning me however, do not fret. I have been pursuing something which will hopefully lead to some change *wiggles eyebrows*. In all seriousness, I hope something good comes out of it, for the good of young, green and broke international students. Sigh, there are too many of us here. I still wonder sometimes how Australia managed to make cash cows out of all of us. Was it just good advertising? Connections? Bribery perhaps? Think about it, while I move on to the next point.
Magazine, as in student publications. You know the kind, I'm sure. Underfunded, underappreciated and reaches a circulation of a possible 3,000 people, most of them the broke students mentioned above. Not to mention runs on voluntary service, as opposed to the paid elite. I ain't complainin' however, it's been good experience being a contributor. Then somebody said..."hey Mil, why don't you apply to be the editor for the Women's Issue?" Of course, that went straight to my head, much like cheap rum. I didn't think I could do it. I knew I was going to be heavily involved but didn't see myself being the wise and sage editor. But I applied, and I got it (not due to my talent unfortunately, but simply because nobody else applied- or I'm assuming that no one else did for this year). Oh well. The editor gets paid. Not to sound heartless or anything but I could use the money. Plus there's the bonus of experience (a crazy rollercoaster one because it's not easy, but hey nothing worth it will ever be easy!).
Enough about that. There's more though and it's got nothing to do with women's issues, do not fret. Then, somebody else said..."Hey Mil, aren't you going to run for anything? Nominations close in three days!" So I decided to run for something. I shall not say anything much until the results are out but is anybody else getting the feeling that it's really easy to get me to do something? Just give me nudge and apparently I run, scrambling for the red button. I guess all it takes is one push. I'd like to think that these people had nothing to do with it, but in hindsight, what they said has everything to do with it. I don't think very highly of my capabilities so if you tell me I can do something and that I can do it well, I will always be surprised. But I don't even think I'm too hard on myself. It's really wierd. I suppose this means that I'm some sort of compliment-hungry person which is not very attractive but who doesn't like a compliment ei?
Annnnnd of course, this sums it all up- why two of my assignments are late. They're not major major ones though, so I'm not feeling too panicky. I'm feeling slightly guilty obviously (perhaps the guilt is some wierd motivation to me...who knows?) because both the lecturers of these units are really awesome and I don't want them to think that I'm insulting their intelligence. I suppose I should direct them to this post, just so they can get the general idea. One of them is a drama lecturer though, so I don't think he cares all that much (no offense meant, it was said in good humour!). Dramatists are dramatists after all. Plus he must be having fun reading over all the interesting and psychotic student plays everyone submitted. I don't want to take that away from him obviously.
So, in one breath, this is what I have to do: Finish that damn synopsis, finish that darn summary of my oral presentation and then focus on layout and images and editing. And writing of course. Something I've completely lost touch with. I was reading some poetry of a good friend of mine and felt that sharp pang you feel when you miss doing something you love. Kind of like the pangs I get when I think of mutton rendang from Sri Melaka back home. The adoration is intense but it's that good I swear.
Oh, and I've got to prepare for two more oral presentations coming up next week plus start research for two essays. And study for a test. And prepare for a 'moved reading'. And the first draft of my play.
Hmm. That cheap vodka doesn't sound so bad now.
Hello to you, yes I'm talking to you. After all, I want to represent you someday. Mwahaha.
Yea so where do I begin as usual? I'm listening to some Bjork and doing an overdue assignment...hmm what else is new? This time though, I swear I have a legitimate reason but due to legal issues, I cannot disclose exactly what I have been up to. Nothing concerning me however, do not fret. I have been pursuing something which will hopefully lead to some change *wiggles eyebrows*. In all seriousness, I hope something good comes out of it, for the good of young, green and broke international students. Sigh, there are too many of us here. I still wonder sometimes how Australia managed to make cash cows out of all of us. Was it just good advertising? Connections? Bribery perhaps? Think about it, while I move on to the next point.
Magazine, as in student publications. You know the kind, I'm sure. Underfunded, underappreciated and reaches a circulation of a possible 3,000 people, most of them the broke students mentioned above. Not to mention runs on voluntary service, as opposed to the paid elite. I ain't complainin' however, it's been good experience being a contributor. Then somebody said..."hey Mil, why don't you apply to be the editor for the Women's Issue?" Of course, that went straight to my head, much like cheap rum. I didn't think I could do it. I knew I was going to be heavily involved but didn't see myself being the wise and sage editor. But I applied, and I got it (not due to my talent unfortunately, but simply because nobody else applied- or I'm assuming that no one else did for this year). Oh well. The editor gets paid. Not to sound heartless or anything but I could use the money. Plus there's the bonus of experience (a crazy rollercoaster one because it's not easy, but hey nothing worth it will ever be easy!).
Enough about that. There's more though and it's got nothing to do with women's issues, do not fret. Then, somebody else said..."Hey Mil, aren't you going to run for anything? Nominations close in three days!" So I decided to run for something. I shall not say anything much until the results are out but is anybody else getting the feeling that it's really easy to get me to do something? Just give me nudge and apparently I run, scrambling for the red button. I guess all it takes is one push. I'd like to think that these people had nothing to do with it, but in hindsight, what they said has everything to do with it. I don't think very highly of my capabilities so if you tell me I can do something and that I can do it well, I will always be surprised. But I don't even think I'm too hard on myself. It's really wierd. I suppose this means that I'm some sort of compliment-hungry person which is not very attractive but who doesn't like a compliment ei?
Annnnnd of course, this sums it all up- why two of my assignments are late. They're not major major ones though, so I'm not feeling too panicky. I'm feeling slightly guilty obviously (perhaps the guilt is some wierd motivation to me...who knows?) because both the lecturers of these units are really awesome and I don't want them to think that I'm insulting their intelligence. I suppose I should direct them to this post, just so they can get the general idea. One of them is a drama lecturer though, so I don't think he cares all that much (no offense meant, it was said in good humour!). Dramatists are dramatists after all. Plus he must be having fun reading over all the interesting and psychotic student plays everyone submitted. I don't want to take that away from him obviously.
So, in one breath, this is what I have to do: Finish that damn synopsis, finish that darn summary of my oral presentation and then focus on layout and images and editing. And writing of course. Something I've completely lost touch with. I was reading some poetry of a good friend of mine and felt that sharp pang you feel when you miss doing something you love. Kind of like the pangs I get when I think of mutton rendang from Sri Melaka back home. The adoration is intense but it's that good I swear.
Oh, and I've got to prepare for two more oral presentations coming up next week plus start research for two essays. And study for a test. And prepare for a 'moved reading'. And the first draft of my play.
Hmm. That cheap vodka doesn't sound so bad now.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
No Fear
The beauty of Sanskrit, of native languages and aboriginality- torn down by the English sacrilege. They built it up to perfection and you scrapped it off with one single manouvre. But you know what? You can tick tock and Hobson-Jobson all you want-our language remains ours.
We may not understand privacy, or comprehend you when you say things like 'breach of privacy' and 'disrespect for grief' but at least we are not afraid of butting in and running interference. Sometimes that can save a life.
At least we are not nations of binge-drinking, which is not something that alot of Western countries can say. We have our problems, but they're mostly not as sad as consuming too many drinks at the age of 12.
At least we don't stand four feet away from each other when standing in a queue. Sure there's the BO problem but I'd rather feel humane then feel like a leper in a public space.
At least we are not afraid. Because you know what? You, as rich and as clean and as powerful as you are, you live in a nation of constant fear.
And I'd rather be poor, dirty and powerless instead of afraid.
We may not understand privacy, or comprehend you when you say things like 'breach of privacy' and 'disrespect for grief' but at least we are not afraid of butting in and running interference. Sometimes that can save a life.
At least we are not nations of binge-drinking, which is not something that alot of Western countries can say. We have our problems, but they're mostly not as sad as consuming too many drinks at the age of 12.
At least we don't stand four feet away from each other when standing in a queue. Sure there's the BO problem but I'd rather feel humane then feel like a leper in a public space.
At least we are not afraid. Because you know what? You, as rich and as clean and as powerful as you are, you live in a nation of constant fear.
And I'd rather be poor, dirty and powerless instead of afraid.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Sulk
Anger is a funny word. It is no longer scary to me.
I finished the damn news story and now I have an oral presentation to do that is based on my first creative writing assignment. Then there's the Drama essay and the second creative writing assignment, following that would be the second news story and let's not forget the monologue that I have to prepare for Drama class where i'll have to go solo and lose feeling in all my fingers and toes. Oh yes, then the feature writing for Journalism and last but not least, a lovely script for Screen and Sound plus the biggest assignment for Creative Writing. Did I say all that in one breathe.
I just sound so bitter these days, I'm like a crinkled and withered prune, faded and jaded by age and experience. I need to go somewhere far away to feel a 100 years younger and better. The other day in Journalism class we had to write a very short piece about the few hours we experienced on Friday morning getting ready for the class. When I read mine out for the tutor she complimented me and said "that's very good I get a sense of stress in yours."
I didn't even mean to make my character sound stressed so I'm naturally just freaking out. What a bummer, ei?
When I think about those long summer holidays spent back home, I am envious of that carefree and lazy routine I had. Of the person that I was. I just feel different. I know I sound different. I know I am different.
Let me tell you that this sucks.
I finished the damn news story and now I have an oral presentation to do that is based on my first creative writing assignment. Then there's the Drama essay and the second creative writing assignment, following that would be the second news story and let's not forget the monologue that I have to prepare for Drama class where i'll have to go solo and lose feeling in all my fingers and toes. Oh yes, then the feature writing for Journalism and last but not least, a lovely script for Screen and Sound plus the biggest assignment for Creative Writing. Did I say all that in one breathe.
I just sound so bitter these days, I'm like a crinkled and withered prune, faded and jaded by age and experience. I need to go somewhere far away to feel a 100 years younger and better. The other day in Journalism class we had to write a very short piece about the few hours we experienced on Friday morning getting ready for the class. When I read mine out for the tutor she complimented me and said "that's very good I get a sense of stress in yours."
I didn't even mean to make my character sound stressed so I'm naturally just freaking out. What a bummer, ei?
When I think about those long summer holidays spent back home, I am envious of that carefree and lazy routine I had. Of the person that I was. I just feel different. I know I sound different. I know I am different.
Let me tell you that this sucks.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Anything Goes
I'm sitting in my room, a room I share with another girl (yes I have to share my privacy too, alert the media will ya?). I'm eating leftover mihun from lunch today. I'm still hungry. And I have to write my first ever news story which I want so badly to turn out nicely.
Today was stupid and there is no better word for it. Pointlessly and uselessly stupid. I have literally done nothing and for the first time it is not actually my fault. Ok I mean yes of course it is, but I didn't literally sit down and do nothing. If that was the case I would be feeling stupider and crappier. I was doing alot of things, but none of them proved to be actually fruitful.
Morning, 830am: I got up and woke Vivek for class. Went back to sleep and dreamt that I had already gone to the damn police station for an interview for the news story which is what I should have been doing instead of sleeping.
10.30am: Woke up again, rolled over and swore colourfully at my blanket. But no problem right, I still had time because class was only at 1.30pm.
11.30am: I am showered, changed and shot up with coffee, all ready for anything to come my way. Except for this: While packing my bag, I realize that my notebook is missing. My extremely-important, black and shiny notebook with all my class notes, research and story ideas is gone. I look everywhere in my flat and decide that if it's not here it has to be in Vivek's flat because I'm usually there half the time. It's already getting late and I still have to cook lunch so I have to go to his flat anyway, which is where all the groceries are. I do a quick search in his room, half-expecting to find it obviously, because where else would it be? It is not there. In near tears, I chop vegetables and fry some prawns and eggs. Vivek comes out and sees me distressfully making mihun. I tell him everything and he searches his room immediately but comes up with nothing. I tell him that it may be in the library when we went there on Monday late at night. He tells me that there are two of our friends already at the library so we call them and ask them to check Lost and Found. While waiting for their call, I make another call to another friend, hoping I just left it in his flat because I had been there on Monday as well. Nothing so far, and negative from the library. We eat quickly and I tell Vivek that I may have left it in my media class even though I don't remember taking any notes. We check the rooms in the building and also the Lost and Found there. I am furious with myself at this point and I tell Vivek that I have to check the library for myself. Before we get to the library I remember that I had entered the computer labs right next to the library yesterday, before Drama class. I run in there and lo and behold; my precious notebook is sitting there, in all its pink Post-Its glory and smirking at me. What a broomstick.
Afternoon,1.45pm: Search of the Big Black Notebook is over but I miss my Creative Writing workshop in all that frenzy. I console myself with the fact that I'm not missing much and this is the first tutorial that I've missed in 6weeks of university. Woo-hoo. Vivek and I return to the flat to finish our meals and I plan my next few hours; some bank work for tomorrow's rent and the visit to the police station. When I get to the Murdoch train station I find out that there's actually a bus that passes the Police Station and I am overjoyed as my original plan was to walk. The feeling doesn't last because when I get there, the station is closed. Spying a number for general inquiries, I put in a quick call to them and they tell me well, yea the office is closed and no, I can't exactly barge in and demand some time for a short interview. The lady on the line is pleasant and gives me a number for the Youth Action Team (as my story involves young offenders, or juveniles if you like). I call the YAT and they tell me that I have to put my request in writing. Well, the story's due tomorrow and no, I'm not doing last-minute work, I only had this idea to interview the police yesterday so I thought I'd give it a shot.
Evening,5.30pm: I am back in Vivek's flat and I've researched for 24-hour police stations. The one the lady recommended to me is an hour away from here by bus. I found another one though, that wasn't too far away and was on the way to Vivek's work (also, it is where the infamous secondhand bookshop is).
6.10pm: I have reached the city of Fremantle and I go on a wild search to find the police station. I pass a town hall which has a library as well and I get distracted but do an about-face and keep looking. I find the police station after awhile and again, have feelings of happiness which again don't last very long either because the lady who greets me at the counter doesn't look too certain that she can help me (let alone be allowed to even talk to me). I wait there for nearly 10minutes until she comes out with a piece of paper bearing an e-mail address to forward my queries to. I am right, she is not really supposed to talk to "the public" which is why she can't even sit down and talk to me casually about young offenders that are terrorizing the neighbourhood and getting away with it because the laws in Western Australia protect them from incarceration and a criminal record.
6.40pm: The wind blows my only cap away and the bus comes at the same time so I can't run in the streets and scream about my cap like the madperson I want to be.
As you can see, it has been a very productive day. Let me excuse myself so I can go scoop some water up with a fork. Good night ladies and gentlemen, pray that I can make myself proud in the next few hours.
Today was stupid and there is no better word for it. Pointlessly and uselessly stupid. I have literally done nothing and for the first time it is not actually my fault. Ok I mean yes of course it is, but I didn't literally sit down and do nothing. If that was the case I would be feeling stupider and crappier. I was doing alot of things, but none of them proved to be actually fruitful.
Morning, 830am: I got up and woke Vivek for class. Went back to sleep and dreamt that I had already gone to the damn police station for an interview for the news story which is what I should have been doing instead of sleeping.
10.30am: Woke up again, rolled over and swore colourfully at my blanket. But no problem right, I still had time because class was only at 1.30pm.
11.30am: I am showered, changed and shot up with coffee, all ready for anything to come my way. Except for this: While packing my bag, I realize that my notebook is missing. My extremely-important, black and shiny notebook with all my class notes, research and story ideas is gone. I look everywhere in my flat and decide that if it's not here it has to be in Vivek's flat because I'm usually there half the time. It's already getting late and I still have to cook lunch so I have to go to his flat anyway, which is where all the groceries are. I do a quick search in his room, half-expecting to find it obviously, because where else would it be? It is not there. In near tears, I chop vegetables and fry some prawns and eggs. Vivek comes out and sees me distressfully making mihun. I tell him everything and he searches his room immediately but comes up with nothing. I tell him that it may be in the library when we went there on Monday late at night. He tells me that there are two of our friends already at the library so we call them and ask them to check Lost and Found. While waiting for their call, I make another call to another friend, hoping I just left it in his flat because I had been there on Monday as well. Nothing so far, and negative from the library. We eat quickly and I tell Vivek that I may have left it in my media class even though I don't remember taking any notes. We check the rooms in the building and also the Lost and Found there. I am furious with myself at this point and I tell Vivek that I have to check the library for myself. Before we get to the library I remember that I had entered the computer labs right next to the library yesterday, before Drama class. I run in there and lo and behold; my precious notebook is sitting there, in all its pink Post-Its glory and smirking at me. What a broomstick.
Afternoon,1.45pm: Search of the Big Black Notebook is over but I miss my Creative Writing workshop in all that frenzy. I console myself with the fact that I'm not missing much and this is the first tutorial that I've missed in 6weeks of university. Woo-hoo. Vivek and I return to the flat to finish our meals and I plan my next few hours; some bank work for tomorrow's rent and the visit to the police station. When I get to the Murdoch train station I find out that there's actually a bus that passes the Police Station and I am overjoyed as my original plan was to walk. The feeling doesn't last because when I get there, the station is closed. Spying a number for general inquiries, I put in a quick call to them and they tell me well, yea the office is closed and no, I can't exactly barge in and demand some time for a short interview. The lady on the line is pleasant and gives me a number for the Youth Action Team (as my story involves young offenders, or juveniles if you like). I call the YAT and they tell me that I have to put my request in writing. Well, the story's due tomorrow and no, I'm not doing last-minute work, I only had this idea to interview the police yesterday so I thought I'd give it a shot.
Evening,5.30pm: I am back in Vivek's flat and I've researched for 24-hour police stations. The one the lady recommended to me is an hour away from here by bus. I found another one though, that wasn't too far away and was on the way to Vivek's work (also, it is where the infamous secondhand bookshop is).
6.10pm: I have reached the city of Fremantle and I go on a wild search to find the police station. I pass a town hall which has a library as well and I get distracted but do an about-face and keep looking. I find the police station after awhile and again, have feelings of happiness which again don't last very long either because the lady who greets me at the counter doesn't look too certain that she can help me (let alone be allowed to even talk to me). I wait there for nearly 10minutes until she comes out with a piece of paper bearing an e-mail address to forward my queries to. I am right, she is not really supposed to talk to "the public" which is why she can't even sit down and talk to me casually about young offenders that are terrorizing the neighbourhood and getting away with it because the laws in Western Australia protect them from incarceration and a criminal record.
6.40pm: The wind blows my only cap away and the bus comes at the same time so I can't run in the streets and scream about my cap like the madperson I want to be.
As you can see, it has been a very productive day. Let me excuse myself so I can go scoop some water up with a fork. Good night ladies and gentlemen, pray that I can make myself proud in the next few hours.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Virago
I am reading something special for Drama class. A greek tragedy that's part of a trilogy based in Thebes, written by Sophocles. It's pretty feisty and feminist for a play written a long time ago.
Also, I got back the assignment on Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing and I finally understand what my tutor was trying to say (and I actually got it back about three months ago, so you can see I'm a little slow). He said that there was too much of speculating in my essay. I couldn't comprehend what he meant but basically he was trying to tell me that my denial and confusion about Shakespeare being a chauvinist was clearly evident in my paper. I kept on using words like 'maybe' and 'perhaps' because I didn't want to say it outright that he was, indeed a pig. So, next time I suppose I have to either stay on the damn fence or be convincing when I pick a side.
Screw Shakespeare for now, I'll see him again this semester when I read Othello. Can't wait, I tell ya.
Also, I'm taking Creative Writing. I've been absent from here because I'm too damn busy writing in my notebook everyday. It's pretty addictive but I'm glad that writing has become a daily habit now. When I'm ready, I'll post a few things from my notebook here but only when I'm ready and you can bet your ass that I'm going to edit it furiously. A few times.
Another class that I'm taking is Screen and Sound. I got to play director yesterday and it was pretty wonderful. I totally can't take centrestage on screen. No friggin' way. I'd be so unconvincing as a character, no matter which part I play. Even if it's like a tree in the middle of a courtyard. I'd probably start giggling nervously. I mean, who would hire a giggling tree? Seriously?
And the last one is Introduction to Journalism which is very exciting but daunting too. I've got a superb idea about my first news story but I've gotten overzealous and thought about too many angles. Which is a problem because I have to fit everything into a package of 300 words. And be concise and articulate, neither traits that I possess. My drama tutor caught me in the headlights last week and asked for my name when I was standing in the middle of the room and I stumbled about four times before I could get it out- "Mmm..mmm..mi..mi..milan." It was pretty hilarious. You had to be there. Extremely articulate indeed. Me taking a drama class, that's another good one. If I wasn't in the Murdoch Computer Lab I'd be rolling on the floor by now. Yea, heeeelarious.
That about covers my units this semester. And my life, pretty much.
Also, I got back the assignment on Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing and I finally understand what my tutor was trying to say (and I actually got it back about three months ago, so you can see I'm a little slow). He said that there was too much of speculating in my essay. I couldn't comprehend what he meant but basically he was trying to tell me that my denial and confusion about Shakespeare being a chauvinist was clearly evident in my paper. I kept on using words like 'maybe' and 'perhaps' because I didn't want to say it outright that he was, indeed a pig. So, next time I suppose I have to either stay on the damn fence or be convincing when I pick a side.
Screw Shakespeare for now, I'll see him again this semester when I read Othello. Can't wait, I tell ya.
Also, I'm taking Creative Writing. I've been absent from here because I'm too damn busy writing in my notebook everyday. It's pretty addictive but I'm glad that writing has become a daily habit now. When I'm ready, I'll post a few things from my notebook here but only when I'm ready and you can bet your ass that I'm going to edit it furiously. A few times.
Another class that I'm taking is Screen and Sound. I got to play director yesterday and it was pretty wonderful. I totally can't take centrestage on screen. No friggin' way. I'd be so unconvincing as a character, no matter which part I play. Even if it's like a tree in the middle of a courtyard. I'd probably start giggling nervously. I mean, who would hire a giggling tree? Seriously?
And the last one is Introduction to Journalism which is very exciting but daunting too. I've got a superb idea about my first news story but I've gotten overzealous and thought about too many angles. Which is a problem because I have to fit everything into a package of 300 words. And be concise and articulate, neither traits that I possess. My drama tutor caught me in the headlights last week and asked for my name when I was standing in the middle of the room and I stumbled about four times before I could get it out- "Mmm..mmm..mi..mi..milan." It was pretty hilarious. You had to be there. Extremely articulate indeed. Me taking a drama class, that's another good one. If I wasn't in the Murdoch Computer Lab I'd be rolling on the floor by now. Yea, heeeelarious.
That about covers my units this semester. And my life, pretty much.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Monologue
Would you look at that?
Last post published on the 7th of July, 20008. *clicks tongue* Shame on you, Mil. There goes the pipe dream of writing everyday.
So, alot of things happening here in the land of KL. Anwar got arrested, roads got blocked, people get riled up and other people don't give two spits. I'm not sure which category I belong to, all I know is that who are we to judge this poor guy who is under extremely public scrutiny. Boy would I get plastic surgery if I were you, Mr. Ibrahim!
And of course, alot of things happening in the Sadhwani household, nothing new, nothing new. I feel underappreciated, trodden on, happy and frustrated all at the same time but eh, life goes on.
So, ahm. I have no privacy left. Yep, people come in and out of my room daily, to take showers, to play computer games and once in awhile poke and prod through my stuff as if they own everything but surprisingly I'm taking it in calmly.
It was only today as I sat down in my room and looked around that I realized that it bugged me to hell and back. Eh, I can't call anything my own anymore, I thought to myself.
My drawers have been open, my table has been touched, my shower has been used but worse...my bookshelf has been tainted. Yes folks, my bookshelf was opened and closed while I was gone and I could tell the moment I walked through my damn door. Oh, so much drama, Mil!
Despondent, I looked around my room once again and felt incomplete. Nothing was mine yet everything was 'mine'. What do I have left. I guess all that's left, I realized, is what is inside me and around me. Not the material things, not the phsyical things. It feels *WARNING- major drama alert* like everything's been taken from me. But no matter how hard you or anyone else tries, you can't take the things that truly matter from me. You can't take myself away- my tears, my laughter, my sorrows, my joy, my pride, my sense of self, my essence. I have been left cold without everything but the knowledge that I have friends who care, everywhere I bother to look, their smiles, their stupid jokes, their comforting words, their little quirks- this warmth is what takes me through the day and the night.
No matter how hard you try, you can't take all this away, can you?
And that's what it's all about.
Last post published on the 7th of July, 20008. *clicks tongue* Shame on you, Mil. There goes the pipe dream of writing everyday.
So, alot of things happening here in the land of KL. Anwar got arrested, roads got blocked, people get riled up and other people don't give two spits. I'm not sure which category I belong to, all I know is that who are we to judge this poor guy who is under extremely public scrutiny. Boy would I get plastic surgery if I were you, Mr. Ibrahim!
And of course, alot of things happening in the Sadhwani household, nothing new, nothing new. I feel underappreciated, trodden on, happy and frustrated all at the same time but eh, life goes on.
So, ahm. I have no privacy left. Yep, people come in and out of my room daily, to take showers, to play computer games and once in awhile poke and prod through my stuff as if they own everything but surprisingly I'm taking it in calmly.
It was only today as I sat down in my room and looked around that I realized that it bugged me to hell and back. Eh, I can't call anything my own anymore, I thought to myself.
My drawers have been open, my table has been touched, my shower has been used but worse...my bookshelf has been tainted. Yes folks, my bookshelf was opened and closed while I was gone and I could tell the moment I walked through my damn door. Oh, so much drama, Mil!
Despondent, I looked around my room once again and felt incomplete. Nothing was mine yet everything was 'mine'. What do I have left. I guess all that's left, I realized, is what is inside me and around me. Not the material things, not the phsyical things. It feels *WARNING- major drama alert* like everything's been taken from me. But no matter how hard you or anyone else tries, you can't take the things that truly matter from me. You can't take myself away- my tears, my laughter, my sorrows, my joy, my pride, my sense of self, my essence. I have been left cold without everything but the knowledge that I have friends who care, everywhere I bother to look, their smiles, their stupid jokes, their comforting words, their little quirks- this warmth is what takes me through the day and the night.
No matter how hard you try, you can't take all this away, can you?
And that's what it's all about.
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