Life Through My Magic Door.

found via Google
I do not even need to shout it out to the whole world about how I detest reality and the fact that I am floating in between reality and fantasy it self. I draw my own escape route—off the reality path that I have my life walks on—a complete detour that bring me out of my real misery and into the world where nothing actually matters, except for that I am somehow alive.

Anime—and no, this is no where near the definition of cartoon because if someone ever put anime and cartoon in the same category, I swear I will butcher something—is one of magic doors I create for my self to escape my life. I do not believe in living a life to the fullest and all that shit but anime actually gives me a reason to believe in being alive—just thankful of being alive.

I could trace back the first time I encounter anime is when I am approximately seven to eight years-old. There is an old popular anime that airs weekly on the local television channel and I watch it as if it is my food—my only source of life. I pay too much attention on it that my childish brain hurts.

It never quite stops—my habit of watching weekly anime series that constantly airs through the local television channels—but it often comes to a halt as I grow older. Growing older comes with options and when I am already able to point out what I like and what I do not like, I grow a bit distant from those anime I watch when I am still in elementary school. I shift genres—from comedy and all those shits to something more dramatic.

And then I completely stop. I encounter those shits in my early teenage years—pop culture and a mix of punk rock that I temporarily like, the Korean Pop that inhabits most of my teenage years, fashion that never quite mix with my life and all those other things that push anime out from my life. It seems wrong back then to watch it—it does not click anymore.

But now at the age of twenty going to twenty-one in less than nine months, I finally return to the root that makes the person I am right now. Anime is the magic door that pulls back into the wonderful life I once live in—away from all the teenage dramas. I may be shifting into more genres but to spend my time watching anime gives me back all those warm feelings that I lose as I grow older.

It freaks me out at first—on how I slowly become engross in this life with anime. But I find comfort, somewhere along the way I assume. I enter a new world with every episode I watch, with every new anime series I encounter, with every new fictional characters that I become completely attached with. I am able to show more human emotions toward all these rather than how I show emotions in reality it self.

In one word, I could say anime pulls me out from my depression. Anime is always there when I am alone and I feel as if the whole world is against me. Anime is there for me like a friend who never walks away even when the whole world turns its back against me. Anime is the remedy to all the pain reality inflicts into my life—an escape door, a route that leads to the world where every little thing seems too beautiful to be true.

If anyone to ever dare me to list down all the anime that practically change my life, I could list more than just twenty—because there a lot of anime I watch and somehow manage to alter a bit of how I live my life. I may be dull and boring at times, but I know how I should color my own life better than anyone else and it is all thanks to the anime I grow up watching.

This is a detour I like to take when life begins to take it toll on me—on how reality begins to really hurt and no remedy really does exist to cure all those pains or just take it away. I live my life this way and even if to anyone else it seems completely ridiculous and does not make any sense, I love my life. I may not be living it to the fullest—maybe not yet or somehow, just don’t really matter anymore—but anime makes my life worth all the pain and cry. Anime is the one lifeless thing I could turn to when everyone else betrays me, when the whole world decides to go against me.

It Was Raining, But There He Was.

found via You are loved
Ah, I do not intend to write anything that involves awesome anime boys in school uniform—not that I want anyone to ever label me as a pedophilia or some sort of anything relates to it. I just do not want to ruin this moment and I mean come on, anime boys in school uniforms are hot. I have to say, if they really do exist in reality, I would not mind becoming a stalker for them.

I tend to like boys who are mostly in the art department—the one who smells of oil paint or perhaps the one with pencil stains on his rough fingers, or just the one who sits in a corner with a sketch book and an old pencil—those kind of boys who spend more time with their creativity sides rather than reality.

It may be the fact that I use to imagine my life in that world, the world of endless arts. I picture my self to work with lifeless utensils and apparatus to create an art that seems alive even may be just for me. For that I have the tendency to like boys who could draw, or simply those who are in the art department.

He wears a blue shirt and carries a black backpack—of which I see the most because I stalk him from behind—and one thing that makes him stands out is not the fedora he wears or anything—but the black case art students usually carry to bring along humongous drawing or layout pads around. I don’t even know its name, silly me.

It clicks in all the right places. I like that kind of boys and I mean a lot. I like someone who would talk more about his art and most of the time when he does not talk; his eyes would look as if it is deep enough to drown in it. I hate boys who talk so much—considering that the boys in my faculty all talks like shit, literally—and the ones who are mostly in the art faculty seems quiet and reserved.

I do not even know why I am writing this but perhaps I just want to keep this memory alive. I mean, I really like boys who are very good with arts. I like them more than boys who talk shit about music and stuffs. You do not know how deep art people could get when they actually talk about their arts.

Anyway, I hope to bump into him again next week. I try to catch up with him while we walk from the LRT station to the college but I am wearing my pair of flats and the one who walks in front of me is too slow that I do not have the chance to walk pass him. Let’s meet again, art boy. Even if I could only see you from far away, I would like that.

Dear First Love of My Life, Thank You.

found via Near the lighthouse, there's my heart
In one way or another I will rather choose not to discuss over the matter of first love. Generally it will be quite ironic for me who is quite a fan of all things romance to not to fond the idea of reminiscing the story of first love. I will however be able to give one explanation about this—my story of first love stretches out for thirteen years. Even my self will laugh when I think about how thirteen years might not make it a story of first love anymore.

First love—even with just the phrase it always manage to bring out a smile from me. It is that sweet sensation when you see one particular person, the ability to feel your heart burst with excitement. It is that sequences of time when you lay your eyes on that particular person, unable to look away. It is that childish excitement when you think about that particular person and the joy that flows with every idea of it. It is that pure and innocence feeling you never knows but manages to overwhelm you with more than a thousand of emotions. It is that experience when you feel as if you can remember everything—and nothing else but you and that particular person ever matter.

Lovely how everyone has different first love stories to share and tell, because I believe even the most ridiculous first love story lays that same pure feeling that everyone once experience. It is not about the end of the first love story that always matters—it is the beginning of it that makes it special.

Adults may refer to it as puppy love but even the silliest puppy love blossoms to the most beautiful feeling in the world a human could ever experience. It is that one moment in life when everything seems to slow down and no one could hear a long classical string composition that plays through your mind when you first lay your eyes on that particular person. It is that first experience when your heart seems to speak through your mind and tells you sincerely—this is my first love.

My first love story begins thirteen years ago and unfortunately it remains without an end. If I am to put an end to it after these thirteen years it will obviously become a sad one—because him who I love since thirteen years ago does not even remember my existence—but I am that selfish person who wants to treasure my first love story, even if it drags out to twenty years in the future. In the end I always remind my self that it is not the ending that matters the most, it is the beginning.


found via Google Image
I encounter a chance to watch a 2009 Japanese movie by the title 僕の初恋をキミに捧ぐ (I Give You My First Love)—typically a loose adaptation of a Japanese manga by the same title—that deeply evolves around the story of a first love. I actually write a report on this excellent masterpiece for college and through it does I realize how much pureness and all sort of emotions flow through when I think about first love. It is that simple matter that has a big influence. I eventually finished reading the eleven volume of its manga yesterday and apparently, it teaches me more about first love and how it changes throughout our life. Through this movie do I begin to understand that the end does not really matters because a first love is a memory that you will remember for the rest of your life not for how it finally ends but for how you begin it and how you live through it.

Fortunately for me that my first love story is not as sad as the one in the Japanese movie but still I am grateful that I am able to experience a first love that I will remember until the very end of time. First love is that innocent feeling one will experience just once in a lifetime and yes I will treasure it. I want to remind my self that sweet feeling of falling in love for the first time.

I do not know why but I want to tell that particular person who I treasure as my first love for thirteen years—thank you for giving me wonderful first love story to remember and treasure throughout my life. Thank you for being that first person who makes my heart flutters and brings out the childish smiles out of me from time to time. Thank you for making me experience the wonderful years of able to see you and almost skip every beat of my heart. Thank you for your existence, because without it I will not be able to experience such beautiful first love story. Thank you so much for this memory. I wish nothing but happiness for you and your partner. I may still foolishly in love with you as I always will for perhaps another thirteen years in the future but do know that I am letting you go. I do not have any regrets for loving you. Even after all these years, I do not regret falling in love with you for the first time. I do not regret having you as my first love. Thank you for the memory. Thank you for the smiles. Thank you for the happiness. Thank you for the friendship. Thank you for the tears and even the sadness. But in the end, thank you for making me fall in love. Dear first love story of my life, thank you.

Now I feel like pathetic. No—please do not sympathize my pathetic love story, it does not worth any attention, really. I just need to get this out from my chest before it literally consumes me as a whole. It has been thirteen years after all. This first love story might one day have a life of its own.

But please remember this—it is not about the end of the first love story that always matters, it is how you begin it and how you live through it.

Memories In Bandung, Indonesia.

Yes, it was one of the most amazing experiences in my life to have the chance to have a family vacation in one of the most amazing places I ever visited in my life—Bandung, Indonesia. It was an incredible trip, thank you for the memories, Bandung. I will love to spend another week in Bandung, Indonesia anytime. In fact, my family is already planning for our second trip to Bandung, this time probably with the whole family altogether.









Tangkuban Parahu, Bandung.

Hot Water Spring.









Batik Shop.





Pasar Baru, Bandung.





Kartika Sari Bakery, Bandung.



Rumah Tas and a Factory Outlet in Bandung.


Goodbye Bandung, Indonesia and Hello Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

Her Solitary Welcomes This Unrequited Love.

found via beautifulphotography
I do not think that this is a good thing—to actually allow my self to fall in love yet again. However, I do not have a complete control over my own feelings which is somehow a little frustrating because I could not know when it will eventually happen. Yes, I have to admit that it would be nice to once again fell love—because it has been quite a long time since the last I feel my heart beat faster and my mind only thinks about one person.

But why is it that I always end up falling for the one person who loves someone else instead?

This boy—or should I assume a man—is a friend, not the closest yet not one of those distant friends I could categorize as an acquaintance too. He has been bright and lively—a complete contrast to the solemn and quiet person I am. I like that I could smile and laugh with his presence and does not feel as if it is a burden to do so. I do not have to pretend not to be my self with him; I could completely be my true self.

It just happens that he has a girlfriend—I know, I would take the blame because I do not care anymore. He introduces his girlfriend not long ago—beautiful indeed—and one of the nicest acquaintances I ever meet in my life. I could not understand why I could fall for someone who already has the perfect one in his life. I always end up having this feeling all by my self.

He sometime makes me feel as if I am not complete because to be with him makes it obvious that we both come from two different worlds. He has this group of friends around him, the ongoing type with fantastic social life whereas I only have a small group of friends around me, the quiet type with miserable social life. The way we both grow up are different, we both have different perspectives. Yet when he sits next to me, I could feel genuinely happy. I could laugh and I could smile. He would make me feel as if I am the happiest person ever.

I could not understand my feelings anymore.

I would want to be that one person he loves, but I could not be that person when he already has someone else by his side. I am always that girl who looks silently by the side, keeping my feelings all by my self. I am always that loser who could not express her feelings, because I am a coward. I fear the heartbreak that will follow suit. I could not stand a second heartbreak; I could crush my heart this time if it ever happens.

Regardless the pain, it is actually nice to have someone to dream about at night and to think about when I miss him. I could not remember these childish acts when I fall in love but I could admit that I like it. I like it when I could close my eyes and smile to my self when I remember the funny things he says or when I sing to my self and secretly dedicate my serenade to the person who would not listen. This is funny—but I like every little detail about it.

I would make this feeling the same way as my previous feeling happens. I would ignore it, and when the time comes, it will all disappear. I do not want to hurt any feelings except for my own. I do not care about pain much, but I could not stand to watch others in pain. This is a temporary crush, something that will go with time. I would grow another year older and the feeling will soon fade away with other memories. I will keep it while it is still sweet, as a reminder of this beautiful feeling I would call as love.

However, I would not be afraid to admit this by my self—I think I love you, boy.

This Satisfaction, Sweetheart.

I feel like a freaking proud mother and this ending theme gives me the most satisfying one minute off my plain and dull life, period. This one-minute tune is going to be hummed by me all the time from now on until its release.

Beautiful Day, Saturday.

Mid-term examination is officially over and although I could say goodbye to mid-term examination, I could not do the same with the assignments that continue to suffocate my living space. I am in an urgent need to free my self from this irritating mess.


found via Facebook
My fellow Journalism friends and I while waiting for the other friends to finish answering their News Writing examination paper outside the class, on the corridor of our college. We do not usually do this, no one would ever see us sitting this lazily along the corridor of the college during our free time. This could only be done because it was Saturday and no one comes to college on Saturdays except for examination and it was already late in the evening and everyone has left, except for us.

The final examination paper—News Writing—ended on Saturday and instead of going home and doing the usual boring routines of any boring Saturdays, I willingly followed my other Journalism friends to their outing for Photojournalism class. And yes, I do not take Photojournalism subject this semester. It happened that we are quite close to the lecturer and we did not mind taking the monorail and walked to Bukit Bintang to see how the outing was really done.



found via Facebook
Half the Journalism friends and I in front of the fountain outside Pavilion Kuala Lumpur with our lecturer; he is the man in the middle wearing a red t-shirt and a ZARA leather(?) jacket. He looked as if he was one of us, just slightly older but still, looked as if he could perfectly fit in with us and not like he is our lecturer. He is the only reason why my mom said yes when I asked for the permission to tag along the outing. He is a lecturer, my mom would not ask anymore.

It was an awesome field trip—bringing back the memories when I was younger and went to a field trip with my school mates. I learned a lot about photography—although I do not take this particular subject. I am officially registering for this subject next semester with my fellow friends who do not take it as well. I have fun watching those friends who are taking the subjects working with their DSLR but the best was that we managed to spend the whole evening with our out-going lecturer. Most people will not believe he is our lecturer. He looks like one of our friends.

Yesterday was supposedly the Earth Hour day but it did not seem to happen much in Bukit Bintang or Pavilion. It still looks extremely bright with lights all around us when we are about to leave. I can't never believe that I walked around Pavilion at night with my fellow friends. It was awesome, thank you very much. Although some complaints from the friend who I can't name were extremely irritating, I managed to stay calm and pretend nothing happened.

I got home with LRT with my other three girl friends and took the only taxi left at the train station home. It was already passed nine and almost ten when I finally reached home. My mom was extremely worried about my whereabouts, even more when she knew that I will be taking a taxi home. Fortunately, nothing bad happened and I safely reached home before ten. Thank God, I only ended up with some blisters thanks to my gladiator sandals of which I will never wear to college ever again. I know I should just wear my sneakers yesterday but my younger sister told me not to.

Hey friends, let's do this again. Although it is bad for my finance—the train tickets, the meals, the other things—but I feel happy when I am out with all of my friends. Surely, we should do this some other time. But in the meanwhile, I should save as much as I could to take my niece and my younger sister out for a lunch treat soon.

How a Resurrection Really Feels.

Practically, it seems like I am slowly losing my designing skills. With the assignments that are continuously making me wish that I have more than just twenty-four hours in one day—it is actually quite impossible for me to keep on designing, to improve my lack of grandeur in my poor designing skills. I have not use Adobe Photoshop for such a long time. I try to become good friends with GIMP and PhotoScape but either work well with me.

However, I assumed that I still have a little of those skills. I successfully designed a soda can with my own brand as the first assignment for Principle of Advertising class. I did not think that I have done a magnificent job but at least I still have a little longing towards my forgotten desire of becoming a graphic designer in an advertising agency. I can still do this—although not as good as my graphic design's friends—but at least it was presentable.


Who would have thought that having a plentiful collection of FT Island's pictures would aid me through the process of designing the soda can for my assignment. It was actually an idea proposed by my mom after she watched me designing the soda can in my room. Truthfully, I would love to have a soda brand by the name of FT-Fresh and have the whole FT Island—not just Hongki as presented on the soda can—to endorse my soda. Although his appearance on the soda can did raise several question among the classmate who did not know who he is.

I have started to draw and illustrate again lately. I am spending a little more time to become good friend with my dearest sketch book—who now loyally occupies my bag that I bring to college everyday. I am drawing discreetly in the library, like a geek. I like this though. I like it a lot.

Zero Satisfaction.

The most appropriate GIF to express my current feelings.
Whether I like or detest it, the reality is that I have terribly obtained a NC—of which stands for Not Complete, as in one does not submit enough assignments to perfect the carry marks in one particular subject—in the result for the examination for the second semester. Even more amazingly is that I have obtained the NC for the most detestable subject I have ever taken in semester two which is—UFS 111—Basic English 2. I fucking love this subject, I am setting up a second date with it later. Damn you, Basic English 2.

Although the one to blame for this crappy result (which CGPA pointer which I could not brag about) is none other than my self, it still feels terribly bitter to know that I failed to impress anyone with this kind of result. Like seriously, what is there to brag when I have one subject which ultimately translates that I have not done a good job. I should have done a proper job with this subject—I really should have submitted all assignments.

Trying to explain the whole situation to my parents are like teaching one year-old child to recite the multiplies of nine in one hour. I mean, they never have a child that literally enrolls a university (in my case, college of course) so they have these things about college administration's things a bit too complicated. I am sorry, I will try harder this third semester, mom and dad. I am a bad daughter, but I will change.

Most likely the situation right now is that I have to retake the subject for the whole semester soon. The horror of redoing the 1000 words collection thingy suddenly returns magnificently. Say hello to hell in college. God, forgives me for being such a bad student.

They Gather Here For The Funeral.

found via Photography Moments
I attended the funeral of a distant relative of mine—a cousin of my dad actually—after so much consideration earlier this morning. Honestly, I never have the chance to know my own uncle—or whatever I have to call him, because he was a cousin of my dad who seemed to have quite a close bond with the siblings of my dad. May he rest in peace. Condolences to his family—his wife and his five kids. Be strong, all that is alive will soon die. It is just a matter of time.

However, it becomes intriguing that distant relatives only have the chance to meet each other after so many freaking years in times when there is a funeral. I met a lot of relatives from my dad's side today of which I have never knew they even exist. Funny, how relationships develop when a soul is lost. God has its own tricky way to connect people—through discoveries and loses. It gets even funnier when I could detest those distant cousins I have only meet for the first time today so freaking much, it does not hurt for me to say that maybe it will be better than we could never meet again.

On a brighter note, I finally know that my dad has relatives from all around Malaysia—he has relatives from almost every state in this country. It is interesting to just quietly sit some place and listen to all those relatives communicate to each other in all those different dialects. Like an awkward harmony—like a synchronize rhythm.

Hey Sister, Thanks For The Memories.

found via and now i'm free fallin
I finally spent one whole day with my younger sister—just the two of us—for the first time ever in my twenty years of life. I am the worst elder sister ever, I know. I promised to take her out so many times, yet never once did I fulfilled my promises. Dear little sister, I am so freaking sorry. I promise to take you out more often from now on.

We went to KLCC since today is a public holiday and our dad is away to his hometown for some family business. We thought that giving our mom a day off from chores would be great so we just grabbed lunch while we were out. I bought movie tickets for my younger sister—freaking RM18 for each 3D movie ticket. I should have asked for a 2D instead. My younger sister actually agreed to watch The Green Hornet with me, knowing my bias towards Jay Chow.

Hey, the movie is not as bad as I thought it would after reading several reviews. It was a bit slow in the beginning but overall, it was entertaining. Yes, not the best action movie but the humor of the movie itself kept the movie very much entertaining. At least, I knew I was laughing all the way from the beginning to the end. But oh my God, my eyes were all on Jay Chow. He is the most handsome and awesome sidekick—or partner—in movies ever. And The Black Beauty—gosh, I would love to have my driver's license now to get my hands on an amazing car like The Black Beauty. Anyway, I am not going to give anymore spoilers, go on and watch it in the cinema yourself.

The one thing I am sure about is that we went shopping like a pair of crazy sisters. I ultimately spent up to almost RM150 alone. I bought two t-shirts from Padini and my younger sister bought her self a pair of jacket and a t-shirt. Oh, we also bought four graphic novels from Kinokuniya. The funny thing was that I almost spent up to RM100 if we ever dare to go into the CD store called The Rock Corner to look for FT Island's Beautiful Journey CD. If only we did go into that store, the horror of spending too much money.

I had fun with my younger sister, though she could sometimes be a bit irritating but hey, we are still sisters regardless whatever. Maybe I will take her out again very much soon, but I need to save up my allowance first for sure. The temptation to buy all those good stuffs when we are out without our parents, but the pain of spending so much money. Come to think about it, I still have not take my niece out for lunch and movie as I promised her too.

How To End This Heartbreak.

found via weheartit
There is a weird sensation growing inside of me the moment I realize that the one boy I truly love—my first love—is currently in a relationship where he seems happier and livelier. In many ways I know that the girl you are in love with is far better than the girl I have always been in your eyes. She seems to be a nice girl—of what I know a girl who would make you feel as if you are on cloud nine. I am happy that you are holding onto your happiness, while I am here holding onto the broken pieces of our memories. Do you know what, throughout our friendship that is now just a line of vague explanation we both have to understand—I am always happy to think that I will stay next to you through thick and thin because I truly do love you, even until now. As crazy as this sound, I am still in love with you. How can I let go of you and the feelings I have for you, although now that you are happy with her. You are too precious for me to let go. Holding on the feeling I have for you keep me happy, regardless the heartless reality that is hitting me. I will always wish for your happiness with her. I am not the one for you, not even in my dreams. I am not going to wait, but allow me to hold onto our memories as long as I could because every time I hear your name, my heart breaks a little. I don't need you to end this heartbreak. I need you to give me a reason for my self to let go and eventually end this heartbreak by my self.

Brand New Days, Sweetheart.

found via the hipsterskids
Sweet holiday season has successfully (and unfortunately, unwillingly) ended and it is time for me to drag my lazy self back to college to make a fresh new start for the third semester of my second year in college. Seriously, I am forcing myself to go back. I mean it. I detest every single detail about my third semester—make it in every single aspect about my college life right now.

As usual, the relationship between both me and the administration counter is always tense. Even after third semester in my second year, we have not built any kind of chemistry between us. I still so freaking hate you, administration department, thank you very much. Students have been crowding the administration department thanks to the oh-so-wonderful management. Congratulations on the new records, students are sitting on the floor waiting for their turn to meet the unfriendly administrations’ staffs. I still hate you.

I have five freaking subjects this semester—two of them are missing in action from my schedule. English for Specific Purpose (UFS201) has successfully started but unfortunately, they are giving me Mr. Bala—who taught me back in first semester. I have to listen to his entire nag and talk about this and that. He is still not over the fact that none of us really like to speak English all the time.

News Writing class has not started because well, the class was empty last time I checked. No lecturer, no students. Wow, talk about a good way to start a semester. And this is how the college expect us to excel in our examinations? Way to go, people. Next class will be on Thursday and it will be Reporting. No clues about my other two class. I don’t want to drag my self into the crowd in front the administration department anymore.

Today—since there are no classes—I went to deposit RM140 to buy the FT Island’s DVD concert that I have been dreaming about since last year. I am also buying together a Pentastick after four years of being a loyal fan of the band. How awesome am I to do that? I went shopping alone for a while after depositing the money and bought a fabric dye—in the color of yellow—of which my mom taught I was going to dye everything white that I own into yellow. I am not that crazy. Overall, I have amazingly spent RM160 in one particular day in less than three hours. Gosh, I am scaring my self.

While paying a visit to the bookshop in the shopping mall, I quietly made my way into the art section. I managed to fit in there, to have the feeling that everything in there fit me perfectly. I went to search for some acrylic paint and considering the prices, maybe next time. I was thinking about getting some brushes and oil paint but I think I should start with something basic. But God, I was silently screaming in excitement when I see all those beautiful poster colors. I want to buy them all. I should pay a visit to the regular art supplies’ shop near my old college to buy these stuffs because they are still so awesome in my eyes.

My older sister is begging my parents to go for another holiday vacation during the upcoming Chinese New Year holiday, considering that all of us are going to enjoy another sweet one week holiday. My parents seemed to have taken her words into consideration because up until now, my mom kept asking, “Where would you want to go this upcoming holiday?”. I don’t know, maybe just staying at home?

Painting The Past.

found via time means nothing.
I found something on LiveJournal that triggered a part of my memories instantly a moment ago. I saw pictures of oil paints, crayons, canvases and everything related to arts and painting. Now, I am missing the time when I freely illustrate and paint as much as I want. Back to the times when I was still a student majoring graphic design, I looked at the whole world as a piece of huge blank canvas paper, where I could draw anything I want, any way I want. My dad encouraged me to start drawing again—as a healthy hobby rather than lazying around like a big fat something—and perhaps have it as a second option to my first interest of writing. I also found a box of oil paint inside my cupboard today, the one I bought upon enrolling college to study graphic design two years ago. Right now, I am staring at it with confusion and questions. I just don't know anymore. My hands are not the same as they are when I drew so many pictures that portray my life, my feelings. I want to go back, but I don't know how. There are several other art supplies that my dad kept safely for me—in case I want to return to the artsy roots of mine. I miss colors in my life, instead of just words and more words.

Maybe I should start painting and drawing and doing arts all over again, just to feel a bit more alive. Perhaps I could do a little better, make my life a little more vivid. Now that I want to start doing art again, what should I draw tonight?

Life In My Own Language.

I have recklessly abandoned my blog upon the first week of my semester holiday—not because I am lazy like that but because I am facing such crisis with my current wireless connection. I don't know what have happened but I am unable to connect to the wireless connection for the past four days thus I am spending my first week of holiday to finish reading my novel and in the same time, making up insane jokes and weird dance moves to annoy every member of my family.

The sweetness of this holiday has gotten its way into my brain, literally.

Allow me to use this next paragraph in Malay because well—surely I have to maintain my fluency of my own language. I have been using too much English in this blog, I don't think anyone who reads this (if I have readers—just because I am in a humble mode right now) knows that I am actually a Malay, living in the comfort of my home in Malaysia and having my currently inactive social life with my Malay friends who talk in Malay all the time.


found via The Heart of Life ♥

Okay sekarang aku serius berbahasa dalam Bahasa Melayu. Minggu ni, boleh dikatakan agak memeritkan sebab dengan berjayanya abah kesayanganku telah pun memaksa aku sambung balik arr belajar memandu. Berapa lama aku nak renew je lesen L yang takde guna tu kan? So, dengan niat melaksanakan tanggungjawab sebagai anak (kononnyalah~) aku pun bergaya jelah sambung balik belajar memandu setelah dengan selamba badaknya aku suspend pembelajaran automotif aku tu selama enam bulan. Aku memang hebat, terima kasih.

Akhirnya, aku dapat jugak pengajar yang buat aku rasa bolehlah nak berlagak sikit bila tengah pegang stereng kereta kancil merah hak punya sekolah memandu tu. Dah karat rupanya skill memandu aku. Patutlah nak terburai Proton Saga abah aku masa aku dengan selambanya try driving dekat padang dengan adik aku hari itu. Nasib baik tak tercabut tayar. Abah, kakak tak tahulah apa bakal terjadi dengan kereta abah kalau dimurahkan rezeki kakak dapat lesen. Mahunya seminggu sekali masuk bengkel.

Abah cakap aku ada lagi empat jam driving lesson lepas tu kalau okey, boleh buat pra-test and kemudian sambung lagi sikit practice, dah boleh amik test JPJ yang gila bapak punye menakutkan. Kalau ikutkan, aku dah sampai tahap pra-test tu sebenarnya enam bulan lepas. Kalau tak sebab kaki aku yang terbaik nak sakit macam bangang time tu, rasanya tahun lepas lagi aku dah hijack kereta bapak aku bawak pergi The Curve untuk shopping. Alahai, dah nak sakit, nak buat macam mana?

Terus-terang aku cakap, aku langsung tak confident dengan skill memandu aku. Nak dapatkan lesen tu pada aku macam satu kerja gila. Weyh, nak dapatkan A+ dalam portfolio exam lagi kacang dari memandulah. Aku suka thrill bila pegang stereng kereta tu, tapi aku tak sukakan tekanan bila aku kena control segala macam benda dalam kereta tu. Gear nak kena ingat, kelas lagi, minyak lagi, brek lagi. Bak kata pengajar aku hari tu, aku boleh memandu dengan baik, cuma aku ni kelam bin kabut dan sesuka hati aje nak tekan brek ala-ala emergency brake. Kau ingat jalan tu abah kau punya ke, Dyla woi?

Sepanjang minggu ni pulak, Amirul anak buah kesayangan aku demam sampai dua hari tak pergi sekolah. Mak lang hairan, bila time nak pergi sekolah aje kau sakit tapi lepas pukul 2 mak lang tengok Amirul sihat je terjerit macam orang gila dengan Ashraf. Hairan sungguh temperature badan anak buah aku sorang tu. Aku pun, dengan bahagianya menjalankan tanggungjawab sebagai mak nombor dua dia—bagi makan ubat (bukan main nak seksa lagi) lepas tu segala macam benda lagilah yang sepatutnya mak dia yang buat. Mak lang hebatkan, Amirul Akmal?

Cuti tinggal seminggu tapi rasa macam nak extend lagi panjang, boleh tak kolejku? Bukanlah tak suka study tapi tak suka kat kaulah wahai kolej. Beratnya hati nak sambung semester tiga, padahal mama dah gembira gila sebab lagi empat or lima semester, anak perempuan nombor tiga dia dah boleh graduate. Tahun 2011 kakak dah masuk umur 20lah mama. Bagilah kakak sikit masa lagi nak jadi budak kecil dalam family. Bolehkan mama?

Disebabkan aku dengan bergayanya memulakan tahun 2011 tanpa sebarang azam, aku rasa aku nak go with the flow jelah tahun ni. Nak kurus pun, macam tak berkesan je sebab dugaan makanan semenjak mama pencen ni memang sangatlah dashyat. Nak dapatkan lesen, tunggulah lagi beberapa bulan then kita boleh wait and see apa akan jadi. Well, secara keseluruhannya, taklah teruk sangatkan bila berblog dalam bahasa ibunda? Cuma kadang-kadang aku terskema sikit dalam penggunaan bahasa ni. Ni semua influence dari cikgu BM masa form 5 dululah ni.

There goes my life in the past four days in full Malay language. I am considering the choice to blog in Malay rather than in English—since I am more fluent in Malay and my English sucks big time. However, I am giving some consideration in this matter because I need to choose the one language I am comfortable ranting and spamming in.

I am still praying that the wireless connection stays okay until my holiday ends.

Sweet Holiday, Baby.

All hail the sweet holiday. The hiatus status is officially off as I am free from final examination finally. It has been a tough ride during this past week and I am going to do anything not to repeat any of this torture anymore. I have enough, thank you. Every single final paper has been a war. I am so glad I am alive—much to my surprise—and still doing fine. There are some turbulence along the flight but honey it is okay not to stay alive.

Contemporary Business (UFS 102) and Principles of Public Relation (MDP 103) have to be the toughest papers ever. This kind of giving me a reminiscence of the Chemistry and Additional Mathematics papers for SPM three years ago. Oh, the horror. I am so sick of these two subjects—please don't let me repeat any of it. There were times when I wish I could give up and just move on with my life as a loser in these two subjects.

Introduction to Communication (MDJ 101) and Media Studies and Introduction to Journalism (MDJ 102) are the two papers that are totally fine. I am not boasting but I think I did quite well. I don't think I could get an A for any but at least I wish to pass with flying colors. So much for the wishes, huh?

Basic English 2 (UFS 111) has also been a breather amidst of the suffocating subjects. I hope I pass this subject because even if I do well in the final paper, my attendance and my previous assignments are a total mess. I hope my lecturer has some kind of mercy for me. Please, don't fail me this time.


Honestly, I am going to miss second semester and its interesting ride. I will miss coming to class first. I will miss skipping class whenever the lecturer comes in late. I will definitely the friends who have to leave us. I am going to miss the laugh and the tears. I am going to miss everything accept the assignments and the examinations, thank you very much. It has been a great ride, friends. I enjoy it, although it has been quite bumpy, but in the end we all enjoy it.

I guess I will meet each and everyone of you again next semester. We are going to start our third semester, oh my God. It has been a fast journey everybody, nice to know all of you. In a blink of an eye, now we are going to be seniors. I think I like this. In several months, we are going to welcome new troop of juniors. Hello juniors, let the sufferings begin.


And now, after one hell of a roller coaster ride, it is time for me to say goodbye to semester two and hello to two weeks of sweet holiday. I am so thankful of these two weeks of holiday because gosh, I need this holiday so freaking much. I need some time off college and away from my friends—just me, myself and my thoughts. I am thinking about working with a fan fiction this holiday too—to resurrect the dying skills of mine. I miss writing fan fictions—I miss it a lot.

I am also going to do all things great in life—sleep and more sleep. The past several months in second semester has taken its toll on me by giving me the smallest amount of time to sleep. I have been working with assignments and more assignments, I don't sleep. Now, I am going to sleep as much as I could. I could imagine myself gaining so freaking much weight but to hell, I am still sleeping all the time. I have panda eyes. I don't like panda eyes on mine. I hate it.

Now, I finally have the time to finish reading the novel I picked up several months ago. I am going to enjoy this sweet holiday, everybody. Thank you for the entertainment second semester, we will meet in third semester in two weeks time.

Guess What, Here Comes 2011.

found via HAPPY NEW YEARS MY FOLLOWERS
It is finally the time for everyone to say goodbye to 2010 and welcome the year of 2011 with open hearts. I have so many memories—both detestable and loveable. I am happy to say that it is finally the time to let go and chase after what I am dreaming upon the future. In this 2011, I am going to open a new book and write beautiful memories in it. Hopefully, 2011 will not be a hard year for me. For many reasons, I am going to smile and wish for the best in many years to come. Even after a dull night during New Year's Eve—the lack of social activities to be blamed again—however, I have freaking much fun watching the awesome performances of Korean music. Hey, I am not lying—it was freaking fun.

The not so beautiful thing about 2011 is that I have to revise my notes for the upcoming final examination. Oh great, a good way to spoil my New Year mood. Everybody, school is going to start very soon so go and get your things ready for first day of school. To my college mates, good luck for the final examination. I am wishing you all well. Okay, I am wishing my self well too.

2010 has been a fun ride—there are so many ups and so many downs altogether. Let us all hope that 2011 will bring us gazillion good memories. Say hello to 2011, people. We are going to have the company of 2011 for another 365 days.

Another note to self, I will be coming back with my 2010 Favorites List—the continuation of what I have done way back in 2009. And not forget of course, the fan girl post of the vocalist with eyeliner and the other four boys who rocked the white outfit and the whole performance tonight as well. Let us remember back on what bring us the most joy in 2010, should we?

One Beautiful Thing Called Love.

found via the starts set fire to my eyes
I could see that love is budding between some of my friends. I like to see these couples rising from among our friends—but in the same time it starts to be freaking awkward. I mean, to work with couples and see them together in projects creeps the hell out of me. I am fine with them being together all the time but do they really have to let the whole world knows that they are officially couples? I don't think that is an appropriate move, especially when you are dating someone from the same circle of friends.

Okay, I admit that I am jealous. So what, I am a human and I am allowed to be jealous. I am pathetically single and in love with a celebrity that doesn't even know I exist. Oh come on, just admit I am quite a pathetic one in this matter. I have trouble finding love and being in love. My past relationships—not so well. Each ends either tragically or just horribly. I don't know what the hell is wrong with me but I don't think love and me have any kind of chemistry at all.

The worst part is that, I freaking hate Chemistry subject in high school too but that is totally out of the discussion. Who would have a great time memorizing the Periodic Table when the only memory of studying Chemistry in high school is the moment when we spilled some kind of acid and we ran like crazy children to the sink to wash our itchy and reddish hands. Oh, those memories.

Back to the matter of discussion, I admit that I would not say no to love right now. I have been single like way too long and I think that this is the time for me to open my heart and learn to accept the reality. Let bygones be bygones. I don't have any grudge against boys for the mistakes I have done with love in the past—like some of the girl I know in college—and I am absolutely fine in welcoming a boy who would love me as much as I could love him. Love is a beautiful thing, I would love to cherish it.

Guess I would have to celebrate Valentine's Day alone again like a loser next year. Let me recall the last time I celebrated Valentine's Day—of which I believe to be two years ago, perhaps. Oh my God, it has seriously been two years since the last time I actually celebrated Valentine's. What a loser.

What Is There Left For Us?

found via be.calm

"...When each and every one of us decides to leave, there will be empty spaces in between the chairs we once occupied as we shared not just laughter and small talks, but the place where we share friendship and similarities that make us, different from anyone else..."

There has been this annoyingly frustrating rumors about my course-mates recently—saying that they want to quit college due to the recent PTPTN loan problems with our college’s administration. I don’t know what to believe and what not to believe. Most of it, I'm just trying to pray that this isn’t going to be true.

Quitting college at this point is something serious. This isn’t going to be as easy as it should be if we quit from the early beginning. Most of us are already in our second semester, while a minority is in their third semester. We have mid-term examination coming up. We already send assignments, did presentation in front of classes, formed groups and whatsoever.

Come on guys, just because of this loan problem; are we all going to give up? What kind of journalists does that anyway? I know I hate this matter as much as everyone else does, but I am not taking quitting as an option. No, this is not a choice nor an option. Quitting isn’t going to solve any problems. Once enrolled into a new college, we have tons to start over—new friends, new environment, new lecturers, and new things. I hate going to start all over again. Once is actually enough for me.

This isn’t just about the matter of quitting and transferring—it is about preserving memories. We made tons of memories throughout our short friendship. We have only started to become friends for a little more than a month but we have become so close, we are like siblings. Don’t tell me any of you aren't cherishing all these memories. There memories are like treasures for me. I have been deeply hurt during high school—starting college again and meeting all of you my course-mates heal my wound so perfectly, I don’t want it to bleed again.

We enjoy laughing and teasing our Journalism’s lecturer so much, it has become a habit for all of us. We love hiding notes underneath our tables during quizzes and cheat on papers when the lecturers tell us not to, because we know that we could all be even better when we share answers together. We love to spend our time eating from time to time; I don’t care if I become a bit fatter when I am supposed to lose all this weight. We talk about little things so loudly, other people might think we are crazy but we just laugh at this thought because we know we are genuinely happy. Most of the time, we just enjoy having each other to talk, to laugh and to be ourselves in a group of students with the same ambitions.

Don’t tell me that none of these mean a thing to any one of you. Please, don’t break my heart up to that point. I don’t think I could stand another pain with this broken self.

The more I think about this, the more I think it is possible that my course-mates really are leaving. I don’t want to stop them—it is up to each and every one of them to choose what the best is for them. But, I do want to play this part of telling them that I don’t want to watch them leave—one by one. I don’t think I could hold onto my tears and my feelings if they really do leave us here all alone. Don’t leave, please. Hear me, dear friends. Don’t leave us. Please don’t. It hurts to think that this friendship couldn’t last, when the truth is that we could have done something to keep it, if not forever, at least until we all graduate from this college.

I think I have written long enough to express what I have been keeping inside of me for such a long time. I know no one from my course would read this rubbish, but at least I am able to express everything in form of written words—because I am better at this instead of talking. I am not good with words because most of the time, I am not that talkative when with you guys (okay, I may be a little talkative, but not that exaggerated), but please don’t leave.

The Busiest Period.

I intended to post something on June 1 but my busy schedule just kept me away from sparing a little time to sit down and typed all the rants and memories I wanted to type. Well, I hope this is not too late beside, today is only June 2 - so yeah, it feels kinda new, right? I have been like crazy busy since enrolling college again this month and I swore I have drained all of my energy that I kept through the whole one year while I was on my break. My legs hurt - my eyes hurt and my heart hurt. Err...well, not really want to share why, but hey, at least I let you know something inside of me is in pain too.

Currently, I am busy with my orientation week this week so basically, I don't have time to write long post. I will write about my experience with the orientation week - the good and the bad and also the clear comparison between my new college and my previous college (of name I dare not to mention). Yeah, it feels totally weird to be in a huge community that differed from the one I was a part off before but changes are good. I am not really honest with this, but changes are supposed to be good so yeah, I hope this is good.

I made friends (some are even quicker than I thought) although I don't feel quite fit in. I feel like an outcast among these friends I have. I am always the one at the back or the one who doesn't say a word. Yeah, my life sucks. Well, I am a professional outcast anyway, so basically I am used to all these. Having friends are already a surprising fact even for me to believe.

Everything will end tomorrow and classes will officially start next week. I got tons of things to be settled so until I could spend more time with my beloved blog, I'll keep on posting updates on Twitter and Facebook instead.