Hey

I couldn't tell you the truth. I just couldn't. How would you respond, I wonder, if you knew the kind of girl people thought me to be? I know it probably wouldn't bother you. But it bothers me. I fear my past. You came to college to create a new you - the kind of person I used to be. I came to college to create a new me, too - the kind of person you used to be.

I pushed you away because I felt and still feel bloody uncomfortable with topic, alright. I can't handle it. And it makes me irrational and unreasonable. I am sorry. I just really don't want to talk about it. I don't even want to think about it. But of course, the things you don't want to think about are often the things you think about the most.

I suppose I should embrace it and just move on. I mean, you did. But I don't know if I can do that. I don't know how. I don't know if I want to be myself anymore.

And YOU! BAAA. I miss you guys so bad. I still disagree with nearly every darn thing you guys are doing. But I have figured this is not the way to live my life. I am depressed. I am actually relating to Thomas Hardy very well - not just understanding him, but relating to him - which is bad. I am having withdrawal symptoms after two long years.

Actually, I'm having withdrawal from myself. College is doing weird things to me. I'm not being myself.
I haven't been myself for a long time.

You Should Know

I don't go out. I don't spend my free time hanging around malls and stuff. I sit at home and laze around with my dog and my baby and tumblr all day. That is what I do. I am incredibly boring.

I don't feel awkward. I am awkward. I don't mind being left out of conversations I don't understand. If you want to talk to me, talk to me. If you don't want to talk to me, don't. I'm not that fussed, to be honest. I am that antisocial and that much of a loner. Hence I don't really care.

I laugh at everything. It doesn't mean I find anything funny. I just have to laugh to get it out of my system.

I am surprised society is not ostracizing me from their midst. But then, we are not living in the open-rejection of the Victorian era. We are living in the 21st century, were alienation is done with fake smiles and behind backs. I honestly wonder which is worse.

I don't know how to be nice. I am selfish, and also a little scared. I don't want to deal with losing my friends. I don't want to deal with the possibility. I'd rather stay away from people than to befriend them and realize their ulterior motives. I'm not saying they're bad. I'm saying I'm a self-centered brat who doesn't know how to share and trust.

I will not, of course, beg you to bear with me. I realize that you would only do so at your own risk.

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Dear,

In the moment,
Before I left
You said,
"Have a good day."


Just thought
I'd let you know that
I did.
And that you were a part of it.
The part I cherished.

I hope you had as good a day.
And I hope I was the part you cherished.

Ooh happy day;

Sometimes God sends you little trickles of TLC.
Sometimes He showers you with blessings.
And sometimes...

God:

AHAHAHA, I FEEL LIKE HAVING FUN TODAY, AHAHAHA, SO YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO, I'M GONNA WAKE YOU UP BRIGHT AND EARLY WITH A BIG THUNDERSTORM BECAUSE YOU HAVE GOT TO GET READY FOR THE SMORGASBORD OF MIND-BLOWING FANTASTIC STUFF I'M GONNA BE THROWING IN YOUR FACE, AHAHAHAHA, GET UP KID, GEDDUPPP...AHAHAHA, AHAHAHA *throws a lightning bolt, a few clashes of the thunder cymbals*

Me:

*mmph*

This, readers, is a living example of the foreshadows Miss Felicia doesn't give enough examples of. Morning showers - my favourite kind. I know I should have figured but yes, I am that thick.

How God just consumed my day (and week) with some mad eternal bliss:

1. The miraculous resurgence of my library card
   This is the biggest miracle of eighteen-years-of-life-so-far.
   Okay, maybe not. Me not getting killed by a bus or car or crazy knife-wielding grandmother was pretty miraculous. Me not killing myself or dissecting myself anymore is pretty miraculous too.
   But;
   I put library card in pocket. I take taxi home with awesome friends, one of who has an awesome father who has an awesome taxi-driving friend. I walk home from train station with headphones on, singing and ignoring the people in the adjacent houses who are probably plugging their ears from the awful screeches. (I pass a cute guy. This is not relevant.) I reach home. I eat (like I said I would do). I sleep. I wake up for dinner. I eat more. I read the driving manual. I eat. I read more of Hardy. (I love Hardy.) I eat. I finally realize my library card is missing. I look for it. I eat a bit. I ask God where it is. I ask Saint Anthony where it is. I ask Saint Anthony to intercede on my behalf. I give up. I think I'll live without a library card.
   One day later, a friend I barely talk to from school writes on my Facebook wall that she found my library card at the train station. I barely even know this girl. It's a train station. I didn't even really care anymore.
   OH, GOD. Have you ever blessed the Catholic Church with more than we could ever understand. I mean, the saints. God, your saints. They actually bring forth miraculous events. This is madness. They are madness. The whole Church is madness. You are madness.



2. I've been thinking a lot about sitting with and talking to this Person since the first day I saw this Person and immediately thought of another person this Person resembles. (I know, I resemble that other person more than this Person, but that is beside the point.) But instead of me ending up joining the Person, the Person joined me.
   Person, you made my day. You really did.



3. PJ people. I have not realized how awesome PJ people are. I mean, don't get me wrong, KL people and Ipoh people are totally awesome in a way PJ people can never be. But oh, the joy of the familiar PJ peoples populating your class! PJ people.



4. An afternoon chat with my lecturer.
   


5. Chicken. God, after forty days of being chicken-less, I have decided You could not have created any better animal for human consumption. *mooaks*



6. My first covers got their first comments and my first comment-ers actually became my first subscribers. (And a random musician with a few dozens of thousands of followers started following me on Twitter despite the fact that I don't even know who he is or how he found me.)
   I don't even know these people. I didn't even think I would get views. I intended on bursting eardrums.
   But oh, my beloved comment-ers who complimented me/subscribers who actually think I could come up with more worthy ear-splitting renditions/best friend who was the first to view my cover and liked my post, IF I COULD I WOULD HUG YOU GUISE! And scratch off all the nail polish on my right index finger strumming and plucking and not bothering with a pick.



7. Frost and Hardy
   I am no well-versed poetry analyst but one could not read the works of masters and not be moved to think that one could jump off a cliff and fly because the exhilaration would sustain one up to the clouds. Writing detailed cross-examinations of such revered works would, I feel, be a desecration of their sanctity.
   But CIE A-levels examinations are not as respectful of the holiness of such works and the revernce due them. Or maybe it's just me and my insane ideas of devotion to great literary masterpieces.

I am almost so happy I might die.

Fit of Fury

To be or not to be?
When will our MPs act professionally?

That is the question.

I'm not sure how our lecturers can expect us to be reading up on old sodomy trials when our country is going to the dogs. I am not sure how anyone can expect us to do anything when our country is going to the dogs. Except, you know, saving it from going to the dogs. But no, eighteen-year-olds apparently have no reason to be concerned about these sort of issues more than outdated cases because it is assumed that we never gave a rat's fart when these cases were held and so must study about them now. (Sad to say the latter was true.) Thus we are distracted from concerning ourselves with far more urgent issues like how it is not enough that SPM is already screwed-up and without value, STPM seems to be headed the same way. Or how we are being supplied with newspapers full of the government's bogus lies everyday. Or how our Election Committee seems to be sitting on their butts and not doing much else. Or how we have disgraceful children sitting in our Parliment's seats. Or how despite how "rich" we are, our economy is still sufficiently messed up by certain parties.

Disgusting. I am disgusted. I could probably go on for hours and days, but then I would not be able to complete my research on the outdated sodomy cases I'm supposed to be reading instead of diffusing my mind with political waffle.

This is quite upsetting.

Five Things I Should Be Doing Now Instead Of...

1. Uploading covers through the college internet connection.
   What I should be doing is looking up theories on law and the cases we were specified to study. But I do, alright! I just have enough time in my free ponteng-business-studies(-but-only-because-I'm-not-taking-it >:() period to do both. And my cranky old Streamyx connection is, while fine for regular web-browsing, not doing the YouTube uploader any favours. So there; opportunity must be maximised upon.



2. Scheming ways to take full advantage of people whose friends are attempting to hook them up with me.
   Bad Sammie, bad. These are human beings. With souls. And feelings. They are emoting people, Sam. Not toys, or machines to do your bidding.
   But to my credit, being advantageous is harder than it sounds. I shall just be nice. For now. Moo. Moohaha. Moohahahaha.



3. Stop being infatuated with the guy whose friend is trying to hook up with me.
   You woman, are supposed to be studying. And not immediately swooning over every guy who reminds you of him. Despite the fact that he too is a musician and a genius and the only person from a school you actually recognize.



4. Completely ignoring people who message and text me because I'm such an antisocial loner.
   Be nice, kid.



5. Daydreaming.
   Write. Pick up your pencil. Doodle. Scrawl. Scribble. Go on for hours, Miss-Claims-To-Be-Such-An-Avid-Writer. Write a song like you have not written one for a couple of years (which you haven't.) Argue extensively on paper the R v Brown 1994 case the way you do in your head. Write a script like you have not written one for a couple of years (which you - yet again - haven't.) Write an essay. A novel. Poetry.
   Preferably instead of a list of things you should be doing instead of what you're doing.