Archive for the ‘Random and Weird in the Rain’ Category

Posted: December 30, 2012 in Daily Rain, Random and Weird in the Rain

I remember a time when I would force myself to sleep very late, at 6 am, or even later, when I felt most tranquil, just so I could wake up late, very late, later than 3pm if possible. Why? Because everytime I woke up, I was faced into this great wall of pain, and I would curl up and I couldn’t get out of bed, and it would just hit me the second I opened my eyes and faced the day, that it was pain. To check my phone, to see nothing, to throw myself into the meaningless loop of wondering What can I do? What could I have done? If only. Why me? This shouldn’t be happening. It hurts. And then I cry.

It somehow gets better throughout the day as I rewatch the same episode of How I Met Your Mother over and over again, and speed past the parts which involve kissing, and then I try to eat a meal, and by 12 midnight I talk myself into being strong, because I was so tired from crying all day. Then I get on FB or Tumblr, and chat with someone I barely know and unload my problems on them (they then never talk to me again) and cry some more, and then I tell myself ENOUGH then I rewatch How I Met Your Mother and actually laugh at some parts, and then I feel good, but sleepy, and I tell myself oh no it’s too early, I’ll be awake by 1pm, no no. Then I drag on till I collapse, and I wake again with a rested mind, which then begins whirring again until I bear it down and tire it enough to stop reminding me of the pain.

Life stopped for that period of time. I would take a flu med when I only had sniffles and then I’d be so overjoyed that I would be spending the day asleep. Sleeping, crying, watching sitcoms through a blur of tears, trying to read a book when a million thoughts raced in my mind.

I don’t know what is happening now to me, no pain, but now I feel like crying at the drop of the pin. I should probably NOT be having my period because then this would be my 3rd period this month.


I started reading when I was 8 or 9. It all started when I borrowed an Enid Blyton book home and I couldn’t stop reading. I barely understood the words but I was so overjoyed at how I could immerse myself in a book for so many hours. And then began the Journey of Reading, which was a period of some 5 years of my life. I would read everywhere, bring a book everywhere, and read in the middle of class, in my bed secretly after Mum went to bed, and everywhere.

I feel like I’ve experienced so much through all these books I’ve read. I think that 50% of what I know doesn’t come from my education, but what books I read in my formative years. I had a rich childhood, full of magic and adventure and wonder with every turn of the page.

I dragged my family to read too. We visited 3 libraries every weekend, and when we got home it would be 7 or 8. After all books were borrowed I refused to go ANYWHERE but home to read. I read 4 or 5 books a day on weekends and I would devour them all. In the car between libraries I’d already start reading. My parents were happy but forced to sit in libraries every weekend. I made so many friends at libraries too, while browsing through the many racks. I did increasingly get self-conscious when people stared at me, a little girl borrowing 10-15 books from one library alone (we had multiple memberships).

I would finish all the books before each weekend visit, and photocopy those books that made an impact to me. I didn’t have ENOUGH books to read. I must have read all the books in the libraries. It became harder to choose books, because so many had been read! I must have read 500 books a year at least.

I revelled in not only fiction and literature, but also books about space, about the universe, learning about all the planets and their moons, the Egyptians and the Greeks and how they lived, cut-out 3D books about how the medieval people held sieges, books about how trains and escalators work, UNICEF books about all the children and all the cultures in the world, Amazing Facts books about our human bodies, and strange animal habits (our intestines stretched out would be kilometres long! there are butterflies which camouflage themselves to look like dangerous insects!)

I viewed life differently when I read shamelessly, openly, willingly. Now, I’ve become critical and self-conscious. Certain books I scoff at. Quality of books have dropped. I don’t want people to think I’m a bookworm. I wish I could immerse myself in books the way I used to , instead of just occasional “hmm that was a good book” afternoons when I find myself temporarily in that vortex untouched by fatigue, hunger or time.

I miss those simple times in my life when a new adventure started every time I opened a new book; when I felt sad when a book ended; when I dwelled and properly thought about a book that had impacted me, for example poverty, war, child abuse; learning about how the Egyptians lived, about the Roman baths, about the social status of women in Greek, what the children did in their spare time; learned history and inventions of things; learned that Io is fiery and Europa icy (Jupiter’s moons); learned so so much, that made me wise beyond my years.

So for that, I’d like to thank all the books which made me who I am today, thank you for teaching me all I need to know, thank you for colouring my childhood, thank you for being my friend when I was lonely, thank you because I was never bored when I was turning the pages, THANK YOU, for all the experiences and adventures you let me live through while sitting in my bed till the wee hours of the morning.

I’ve been beating myself up too much over finals. I’ve been slacking, not having the old discipline I had during SPM. When I would study for hours at end, and punish myself if I didn’t finish my goals, if I didn’t have a productive day, I would starve myself, I allowed myself no TV, no internet, and even brought my books into the shower and propped them on the toilet seat LOL.

But now?

Honestly I miss the old times. I was more kiasu, yes, more bitchy, more selfish, but at least I was good. Even now, I think I can sit for SPM and still do well. I remember random facts from Moral, Sejarah, and all these subjects I pored over and I think in a way that’s good that my memory still serves me well and I have plenty of free trivia in my head but it wistfully reminds me of just how good I was in Form 5 compared to now, when I am basically nothing compared to all the other smart people here.

I guess if you think you are good, there is at least a million people better than you. I am sad over how my finals haven’t been shaping up well. I’ve gotten too comfortable. Before this, I used to excel at exams. But now I’ve grown too used to the assignments and whatnot and I feel really awful about myself.

Anyways, a few of my friends came up to me suddenly and told me how much they love me blog and they spent hours reading it and even told me not to be sad and so on and it REALLY touches me and it makes me happy that people actually read my blog and I’m really glad =)

One more thing to blog about in this random post is that people online who get annoyed when others post personal things annoy me. There are two kinds of people, those who think that if you post stuff about say, your period or any shit online is too personal, and if you rant it’s TOO annoying, and apparently the internet can only be used to discuss politics, sports, interesting, deep, and meaningful stuff and not personal stuff. Well then I have nothing to say except that it’s not you who dictates which domain I have to act smart and which I have to act personal and friendly.

Going to express a deep post now.

I find I am more often a better person now than when I was a little girl. Is there such a thing as being born evil? With the risk of being admitted to a psychiatric hospital, I was a twisted child. It all started when I was 7 or 8.  I had violent fantasies about killing people I hated, like teachers, classmates, sometimes even my brother. Seriously violent for an 8 year old, involving blood and gore. I did awful things like vandalise my classroom, thrash the tables, and all the while I maintained an innocent, quiet little girl the teachers loved because I was always top of the class. I did things like, in the early morning when I went to teacher’s office, I saw a stack of exam papers on her desk, and I looked up my enemy’s paper and erased a few answers and recoloured other bubbles so she got a low mark. That was all in my prepubescent years mind you. I had a way of being this scheming evil girl and I was very intelligent for my age at that time as I had been fed all these encyclopedias and philosophy books.

But I turned out okay in the end even though I always suspected I was psychotic or something. During my teenage years, I hit the EMO stage. In the first few years I’d resort to eating disorders, self-mutilation, antisocialness, all while harbouring some grudge inside me. I think that a few key events happened in high school that reshaped who I was. I became a better person, at first just to show people, but finally it rooted. I also became more mature and I can now control my rage better. I used to throw tables around and break 5 pencils at once whenever I was angry. I’d scratch the walls in rage.

But now, I find myself to be altogether healthier. One thing that has rooted me through my life is ambition. Knowing that people are judgmental made me even more determined for ambition. I used to wish for world domination, and so on, but now I just want to understand the world a little better. I used to wish I would be immortal, or would die with my name known by all, but now I just wish that I’ll die with no regrets.

P.S I sounded like the little girl from Orphan the way I described myself. I wasn’t THAT bad la I was quite cute and charming too. Many my insecurity made me see myself in this evil little girl way

as customary, a picture of myself. post-evil days.

Wild Dreams

Posted: March 1, 2012 in Random and Weird in the Rain

I have been having vivid dreams that keep me tossing and turning all night. Some nights i find myself all sweaty, or having scratched myself. I had one recently. In the space of a 3 hour nap, can a person really dream so much? REM sleep overload.

Anyways, I skipped Moral today because I felt really rotten and had a migraine. So I slept. Suddenly, in my dream, I was awakened by a knock on the door. I got up and somehow, I found myself in Summit (a apart of it I’ve never seen before) with a friend, Huan Sen. Some of my other coursemates were there too. I was sort of following Carson because I kept catching glimpses of him in the building but unsure who it was. We were just walking and walking but I kept complaining I was dizzy and I kept having mini blackouts when I suddenly find I have walked somewhere without realising. Suddenly, I find myself sitting on a bench. In panic, I look around and spot my friend. He told me I had collapsed and some of the doctors had given me a lumbar puncture in my foot to check for infection. (Which doesn’t make sense fyi, the lumbar is the lower backbone).

I was helped to a hospital room in which was another patient, a fellow coursemate Eric. He was asleep. It was very realistic from then on, with a female doctor coming to explain to me I had caught a tropical fever called methampillin fever and I had to take ampicillin tablets. That’s how much detail I remember, the yellow light of the dingy room, the doctor’s handwriting on the packet of tablets. I was feeling literally sick, and groggy, and hot and flushed with fever. My mother and brother showed up shortly, having been notified by my friends. They talked to me for a while, discussing my treatment, and then they announced they were going to take a walk and look around. Then, I was dozing off when Carson stepped in. I was happy to see him at first, but suddenly two men came in with him and swiped Eric’s Iphone. Carson came to my bed and took out my bag from the table next to mine and showed the two men the contents. They laughed and said the phone was too lousy to take. Before they left, Carson gave a guilty look to me, but I pretended to be asleep. I felt so hurt that while I was sick, he was orchestrating to rob us. How could he be this kind of person? Did he poison me? I was so sad and kept crying. I wished it was all a dream, but I knew it wasn’t, because so many things had happened with such clarity. Like I said, I remember all the details, like the rusty bed legs and so on. How I wished it was a dream.

Next thing I know, I was crying into my pillow with my fists clenched. I woke up, startled by the not-dream that was a dream.

Is this a sign of a fever to come? Such a complex dream.

I’ve always been materialistic and hard to please. It’s just a character flaw I have. If i pretend otherwise, I’d just resent a person.

Take gifts for example. Whenever I’m looking for a gift for boyfriend or so on, most commonly I get advice like “Anything will do, as long as it’s from you he’ll love it!” I think that’s bullshit frankly, because if I was the boyfriend I’d still be helluva disappointed if it is something crappy. “Happy as long as it’s from you”? Does that even exist in this world?

If I were a guy, I’d probably expect freshly baked cookies or so on from a girlfriend LOL.

Back a long time ago I had a friend who told me about his break up. Apparently, his girlfriend’s ex before him always showered her with presents. But my friend, being inexperienced, only gave her a homemade card for her birthday. She was never pleased and it led to their breakup. At the time, I was all “OMG how can she do that? A card is so sweet already etc etc.”

Like when my ex didn’t give me a birthday present. I felt like DARN FUCKING ANGRY LOL.

Now when I look back, I think if I was my friend’s girlfriend. Would I be content with just a card? No. I wouldn’t.

I guess the difference between girls who would be happy to receive a card for her birthday in comparison with jewelry, etc, is that those girls would willingly marry a poor man for love and girls like me wouldn’t.

Maybe a period in the beginning, full of love, would fool me into thinking love is enough for living. But I think it wouldn’t last long.

Hope I’ll marry a rich man!

I don’t get why people hate on him so much to the point of getting personal, asking him to die and so on. He’s just a teenage boy. Who sings. But anyways. Here’s a list:

1. They hate him because of how his fans react. I mean, yea it’s pretty dumb for those teens to scream and act dumb and so on. But it’s unfair to judge a star by the quality of fans he has. It’s not like rock and roll singers have only rock fans. With pop, all shit comes out too. Take Lady GaGa.

2. His music? Doubt it though, it’s mainstream pop.

3. They claim he’s a girl. Ok this is stupid. Find me a 16 year old boy with tough packs and ripped body. He even got a haircut and his voice changed so like, cut him some slack.

4. Jealousy. He’s a normal single-parent family kid who somehow struck fame and realised his dreams.. And he has made more money than anyone can ever dream at that age. Plus he’s one of the most well known entertainers for now.. For good or bad reasons.

5. They are lifeless bitter people who just want to hate on someone.

6. They follow the crowd. Since everyone hates Bieber, they do it too.


Anyways I find it stupid and pointless. It’s like posting hate crap on the PM’s wall. Dumbasses. You think by venting negatively on a Facebook page that Malaysia will become what you want it to be? Idiots.