ALIVE

This is me, saying to the world,

I'M STILL ALIVE!

STUPID DAY

Guess what? It's Valentine's Day bitch! And I'm still single.

Bummer.

Anyway, yesterday was my not-that little-and-oversize younger sister. So, well, happy birthday!

I don't know why but we (Muslims) are not allowed to celebrate Valentine's day because Valentine was supposed to be a saint and clearly a day that is to celebrate a clergyman is not a day to be celebrated by any Muslims. But still when my friend yelled "Happy Valentine's Day", wear a huge grin, shocked my hand, and made a hand hug, who am I to say,

"Fuck off I don't do Valentine's Day, okay?"

Someone argued saying that us Muslims are not a loving community just because we don't celebrate Valentine's day. Well, if that's the case, I am very sorry. I never knew that to be a part of the community who are all loving, understanding, can feel pain and love at the same time, we have to celebrate Valentine's Day just for the heck of it.

Then again, who cares if you celebrate it or not right? I mean, why are you treating someone who you claimed to love oh-so-dearly so special today when you have the rest of the 355 and a quarter day to tell him/her that you love him? OMG I tell you, people and their mentality just makes you wonder why, why, and why?!

Also I had my first Chemistry topic test today. I don't know how to say it. I mean it was not that hard, then again it might have been just as hard as I think it might have not. Understand? Well, whatever. For all I know I still have a lot of research projects to finish, and by a lot I mean every freaking subject. 

It is kind of stupid, and it really does left me wondering. I mean, why the hell do we need to do a research for Mathematics? Isn't it kind of, weird? Well, at least it is for me. Maths are supposed to be about numbers and not about doing surveys and reports. 

Anyway wanna hear about my Maths research? Well, my teammates and I have agreed on doing a research that is related to Valentine's day, again, just for the heck of it. So we are now doing a research on the relationship between taking your time to know somebody before you guys become official and the length of your relationship.

So basically, we're saying that the longer you took the time to know somebody, to know them well enough before you know you're in love, the longer you're relationship will last. Hopefully. I had done a little bit of my survey - each of us had to do 20 surveys - and somehow it proves it right. Although I might add that all the 'victims' had probably never experience 'real love'.

Neither do I, so that's gotta suck.

Do you guys believe in true love? Like, really really true love. Not that "OMG I freaking love you that if someone throw a grenade at you I'll throw the grenade back at them" kind of true love.The kind of true love where you know it's there, and you both feel it, but then again it's too far for you to reach?

I don't know why but that last sentence made me sick. Anyway, my version of true love is what I've shared with my brother. I'm not talking about we sharing the same 'true love' but more like we're sharing the same understanding of 'true love'. God, I hate you guys. 

And myself.

Anyway, we don't really believe in love, to begin with. What we believe is more about 'friendship', and how from 'friendship', when you know you've both met the right guy, it will change into 'special friendship'. These 'special friendship' is more than that of a normal 'friendship', thus the 'special', but it does wonder.

I've always wondered myself, what happened to a girl/boy who was dumped by the other half? Do they avoid each other? What happened then when they go to the same school? Or worst, the same class? Do they avoid each other, treat each other like they had never talked to each other? Does all the effort of knowing each other and being there just to keep each other accompanied, laughing at one's joke really does ends when you break up?

Thus what I believe in. 'Special friendship'. It is kind of like 'lover' but instead of claiming that guy to be the love of your life, you say that you have a 'special someone'. Sounds cliche and everything, but at least you don't have to do things that you didn't do before.

Like before, when you were just 'friends' you make jokes, you hurt each other, crawl at their nerves, you know, those things you do just to annoy the hell out of your friend. But when you become lovers, everything change. You have to text each others, keep the other half updated to the littlest, stupidest thing you're doing. That surely sucks.

But with my 'special friend' I don't have to. I can still annoy the hell out of her, I can still make stupid jokes about her and her bad habits, but because of the connection we share, it make things more, well, special in a way. This sounds so cheeky and cheesy and very salesman-like. 

Anyway, it is what I believe, although I have not achieved it yet. It might take time, finding that 'special someone', nobody said it doesn't, but the time loss in knowing one another by heart is a time gain in keeping the relationship alive. This is cheesy too, thank you.

Well, at least this is what I believe and how I sees it. So what is your definition of love? I hope it is not sex and love-bite, 'cause if that is all you see in love, girl, you gotta go and find a counselor A.S.A.P.

So, in the end, all I wanna talk about was that 1) Yesterday was my giant little sister's birthday, and 2) Today is Valentine's day and I don't give a damn about it. It is just a normal, boring, and stupid day anyway. You're welcome, buhbye! 

P/s: I am so not condemning today because I never have a 'special someone' before, or because I'm a Muslim, or because I have no love. I just don't see the point of today. Anyway tomorrow is Prophet Muhammad S.A.W.'s birthday, so make sure you pray for him, if you are a Muslim and you're creeping in my blog, looking for nothing. 

REAL MATURE...

Have you ever wondered just how mature you are when compared to an average maturity of a human for your age? If you tried to Google that out, you'd be what I call, stupid.

I don't know why, but I had always wanted to do a post regarding maturity. Not because I think that I am mature, well, maybe a little bit, but because somebody mentioned about this thing recently. And by recently I mean last month, which, I think is about, hmph, let see, three, four weeks before? 

So anyway, the story goes this way. I was having my normal morning. Luckily, the bus arrived like after several minutes of me standing there and making a joke out of myself by laughing to myself, thanks to the sweet technology namely mp3 and radio. So anyway, the bus arrived, me and my friend, whom I shall refer to as Boroy, boarded the bus.

Note: I know 'Boroy' rhymes with 'boroi', but she's none. I just wanted the sound of it.

Anyway, while waiting for the freaking stupid driver to move, I looked outside of the window. I don't know why, but almost everyday, when the bus is fully loaded, as in like each seats had already serves it purpose and was being seated on, the bus will still wait for another, I don't know few minutes, for no obvious reasons. 

The only reason I can think of was to annoy the hell out of the people who was a bit late and telling them straight to their faces that they are, obviously, late. *sad face*

I sat somewhere at the back, and Boroy was seating with her Sabahan friend. I can't really remember who was seating besides me, not that he was any important. Or maybe it's a she. Whatever. I like seating at the back, and I always like to seat wherever there is a place where both seats are empty. I like looking at the faces people wear when the only seat available is beside me and they had that doubtful look in their face and look around for any other empty seats. I feel like saying, "Don't worry honey, it'll be a smooth ride". 

While enjoying my view (read: sad faces of late people), I saw the fat guy. The fat guy. Almost instantly, I smiled, or maybe it's more like smirked. Anyway, my friend, Boroy, she had a little bit of problem with fat guy also. You can just say that the fat guy just know how to annoy the hell out of all the girls in the college. Anyway, since I saw him, I texted Boroy, saying, 

"Weih, pakwe ko dekat luar tuh. Ajak ah dia masuk, kesian dia..."

It was really funny. And what happened after that was even funnier. We had a bit of text-fighting, all thanks to my first text to her. We texted each other, until like before we reached our college, when Boroy mentioned that I was behaving like a child. I told her back that she was a freaking old granny.

Whenever people talk about maturity, I get really worked up. But not the OMG-I-FREAKING-HATE-YOU-WHY-YOU-HAVE-TO-DISAGREE-WITH-EVERYTHING-I-SAID work up, but more like worked up in my mind. I always think that people who thinks that other people are immature, are an immature themselves. 

For once, we can't really tell how mature is mature. It's like trying to figure out the liquidity of liquid. It's stupid. People are born mature, just that they can't see that. I believe that behaving maturely is just a matter of choice. 

Like when you are with your friends, making jokes about other people and all (don't deny it!), don't you feel like you're not acting as mature as you would behave when you're in a meeting or so?

That's when my mind starts to question my (jeng jeng jeng) own mind. How can somebody tell just how mature they are? How can somebody know that they are matured? Is it because of the wet dreams, or because you peed blood on your own pants? (My friend's description of her first experience. Nice.)

Or is it because you can really tell what is wrong and what is right? What not to do and what to do more? Or are you mature when you know what you want and can achieve it yourself, without wanting others to help you? Is that it? Then I think even a 3 months old baby can figure that out. That's easy!

Hungry ---> Cry

Attention ---> Cry

Poo-poo ---> Cry

More milk ---> Cry

Peek-a-boo ---> LOL!

See? Then are they called as matured? Well I don't think so. What I call 'mature' is actually kind of twisted. For me, being matured would be knowing, and embracing yourself for who you really are. Woah, that's deep. 

Well to make it simple, for me, being a 'matured person' would be to know and be yourself. As in like, you know when to behave like a child and when to behave like an adult, and when to be none.

I just remembered this fight I had with my other girl-friend, whom I shall call FS (I can see someone smiling...). She is from somewhere in the southern part of Malaysia, and so was my Mom and her whole lot, lot, lot, freaking lot of family. 

Well, not that bad, but it is often used in a bad way. So, BAD!

But she said that the people back in her place always use it as an alternative for the word 'yawn'. That really made me wondering. I asked around. The only Southerners I knew, well the only three I knew right now was on her side.

All my relatives (read: old people) know nothing about it, but somebody did mentioned that it is only used by younger generations. Which, at the end, explains everything. 

Anyway, because of that, we had like a very nasty, R-rated fight. Just imagine a group of guys, calling a single girl, with a bad word and the girl shouting back the same word. Thinking about it sends me shivers.

Well, that guys, is what I call as a truly 'matured' people. Really.

Well, whatever. You are who you are (thanks Ke$ha) and you are the only one who know what you really are. You actually control your own maturity. If you still think that just because you experienced a freaking awesome dream about you putting in a sausage into a girl's folded tortilla and woke up the next morning feeling all sticky and stuff would make you a matured man, then be it. 

Or it's okay if you think you're matured once you pee blood. I don't mind, not really.

P/s: I know I had not updated my blog for a long time, but then again I know that people don't really care about my blog. So then, why should I care, right?

INEVITABLE CATASTROPHE

PREVIOUSLY ON MY BLOG...

I don't have a single idea of what to write here and I don't really know what kind of snip-it I should put here. So I think you should really just go to my previous post to know just what had happened to me when I went to Venice during my class trip.

If you believe that you're a moron. You're welcome!

**********

The lift started to move. I ignored almost everything else as I know it would be damn long before it reaches the 23^rd floor. Suddenly, the lift started to make like some stupid noise. And then.......

The lift jerked a bit. I looked up to the floor display when suddenly the lift stopped. On the display, it says P1 (parking). Seconds later, there was only two red line on the display. It looks something like this

--

Everybody suddenly started cursing, moaning (?), and sighing. I looked at N and F. They both wore a bored face. Maybe a bored face with a hint of worry. Maybe, because I was wearing the same face. I looked at the back. There were several guys starting to curse and swear. Several Chinese girls in the middle were talking loudly, in Chinese, obviously.

Behind me there were two Malay girls, doing nothing, as if like they don't give a damn about the lift stopping. Maybe they were too shocked to actually respond. You know, like seeing a damn huge snake, you'll probably freaked out more than you know, that when your brain screams RUN, all you could do is pee in your pants.

Or probably those girls already peed in their pants. I don;t know.

Since I was standing nearest to the button panel, I took the pleasure of hitting the alarm button and also the emergency call button. I did that for like some good 10 - 15 seconds when  finally realized just how annoying those buttons can be. I stopped hitting the button and stand there thinking why it had to be me.

F looked at me, and said

"Rugi R takde kat sini..."

I couldn't agreed more. He should have been there. At least I can make fun of him. That sounded bad. Moving on...

About several seconds later, I suddenly remembered something. I looked up, up above the display panel. There, pasted on the lift's wall, high above the panel, was a noticed, by the maker of the lift. Sadly, I seriously thought the maker of the lift, or at least the company, was called the 'Moron Institution'. The name is Daison Khruedpt.

Note: Since I am not planning to pay or have any kind of law suits, I've tried my best in translating the real name into somewhat Japanese. Don't ask me why. But in case if you're wondering how, I used my imagination.

The notice somehow doesn't appeal to anyone. Actually I was wondering just how many people knew about the note. I mean, the note was placed in a place too high that is not convenient for people to read. You either had to awkwardly cramped your neck just to read it, or stand at the back wall of the lift just to notice it, but by then you can't really read it. Unless if you have a pair of magnifying and X-ray eyes.

Don't ask me why X-ray. Anyway, I knew about the notice because I've clearly read it once. And also since I don't really care about cramping my neck in an awkward way. So be it. I took out my phone, but then I glanced to F. I told him to call that company. He said his phone is out of credit.

Gosh, we should all just use postpaid instead of prepaid. Especially when we are all bound to have emergencies. Anyway, I called the number that the notice provided. There was not much of signal in the lift, but still I ignored it and call. Sadly, my phone can't connect, the line was suddenly cut off.

Annoyed, I tried again. While waiting for the line to connect, I heard some of the jerks at the back making some stupid jokes about calling a Dato' or something. I just don't get it. The line connected, and it got me talking to a male receptionist.

"Daison Khruedpt emergency help line. How can I help you?"

Well, you can help me by changing the whole freaking lifts here in the apartment, was what came to my mind. "Umm, we kind of in the lift, and the lift is stuck". He asked me in which building. That question left me wondering just how many building they had supplied with their totally stupid lift services.

He also asked just how many people were there in the lift. I told him 15. I should have told him "3 guys, 7 girls, and 5 morons". Lucky for me the morons know that when people are talking to their phone, they should keep their mouth shut. The receptionist told me that he would send someone as soon as possible, that we should not panic, and also that it would probably take a little bit of time.

Time is exactly what we really do mind. Well, at least me. I glanced at my watch, and it was 8 something, I don't really remember. I put my bag on the floor, along side to my bottle. Curious about the door, I told N to help me open the lift's door. He looked at me, tried a little bit, and left me pushing the door alone. Lucky me, F got my back, or should I say, the other side of the door.

The door opened a little bit, so I put my hand in between them and pulled the door open. I thought I could see something like the other side of the door. Sadly, what's in front of me was a cement wall covered with a layer of zinc, two pictures drawn using a blue marker pen, and about an inch and a half of the door on level P1.

At least the other member of the lift was very glad that the door was finally opened. They was afraid that we was in an air-tight lift, and we had to share a limited supply of oxygen. Knowing that we were stucked with a group of moron suddenly got me worried over the same thing.

Time passes by. The silent girl behind me got tired of waiting, and she pressed the alarm button and the call button. If something was meant to happen, it surely had happened. But then again, I spoke too soon. About a year later (being in a lift filled with people surely had made the time flies even faster, probably at the speed of light), we all heard something from a loud speaker located slightly above the button panel.

What we heard can be described as the static noise that we usually hear from the radio, usually when the signal is not too good. The loud speaker went on crackling up, but no exact words can be heard. So I ignored it and started to worry about other things, namely, nothing.

As I mentioned earlier, the wall, or actually, the zinc layer have had two drawings on it, made using a blue marker. I was fascinated by it, and one of the Moron Five mentioned that there had to be others who were stuck on the same position as we were. That was a very clever deduction.

After another 15 years, I asked F if he had Mr. D's number. Mr. D is our management representative. And by our, I meant my fellow S University's students. Every students who were placed there by the university hostel's management were under Mr. D's supervision.

Luckily, F do have. Actually I know he have that number, because he had repeatedly left his keys in his locked room. Clever guy, ain't he? Anyway, he gave me Mr. D's number and I rang him up. I was trying to tell him the situation we're in, when he suddenly told me to hold on. I couldn't even make out what he was trying to say, but suddenly I heard the phone was being put down, a baby cried, and Mr. D's voice telling that kid to shut the hell up.

That's rude. He didn't say that. That was just me trying to act a little bit of aggressive. Anyway, he probably calmed down his baby, and then he spoke to me. He asked me what happened, how it happened, who was with me, and whatnot. At the end, he told me not to panic, and that he'd make sure that help would be there as soon as possible.

As far as I can remember, including Mr. D's 'don't panic' pep talk, that's the 2nd one. And I would really like to emphasis that I was not panic, just annoyed to the fact that freaking lift was broken.

Looking at the boring zinc-layered wall, I decided that I wanted to cheer up the solemn wall. I took out my own black marker pen, and thinked of what to write on the grey wall. After some thinking, I wrote;

"Stuck here on 27th January 2011"

I was thinking about adding something like "On the year iPad was made available in our country, we were still stuck in lifts...". I was pretty sure that will do the trick in showing just how pathetic it was to still be stuck in an elevator, but then again, oh who cares?

After that, or should I say, after what seems to be a century later, the morons on the back started making some noise. Again. Well, I think I've skipped some of the noises they made because I really don't want to highlight just how annoying it was, and I also would love to reduce the number of made-up stories in my already packed with made-up stories. Sheesh.

Anyway, like I told you earlier, one of the guys own an iPhone, I think. Anyway, these guys were acting all clever and they tried to 'shoot' the door open, via their iPhone guns app. I hated it. All sounds no action, It's like the dog who barked at the hill. Or maybe, they are more like the hyenas who laughed at the lion. Don't get it? Try imagine the lion is eating a dead bull, and the hyenas are just laughing from a distant.

**********

Don't you think this post is going to be a hell lot longer? I think this post is long enough, so I'll make a quick end to this. By giving you an awkward, out-of-the-place, summary of the whole stories, at the end of the post, in a single paragraph.

Summary: We took the lift, the lift stucked. Everybody wasn't panic but instead grew tired of this lift ordeal. I called the 'brilliant' elevators' company, he said help will be there A.S.A.P. The 5 morons in the elevator were acting like what their name suggest they would. My friend and I opened the door of the elevator only to reveal proves of living organisms there, which we all suggest, victims of the stupid elevator. I called Mr. D who was clearly have not enough hand to help us out. I called the company again, he told me '30 minutes'. After spending roughly about 40 minutes in the lift, help finally arrived. We got out of the lift somewhere around 9.30 PM. 

Gosh, If I knew the whole story can be cut into a single paragraph, I would have done it earlier. Or maybe I just like to exaggerate stuffs and also highlight the undeserving parts of the story. Did I tell you that 'prince charming on a white horse' is so gay? Hrm, never thought about it that way, have you? Daa~~