Setting Myself Free (Don't Help, No Thanks)

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"egg sandwich.
my new best friend."

it is a saturday and there was nothing to do.
no tv.
and the men of the family went of shopping.
my sister was sleeping.

i went to the kitchen
and made egg sandwich for myself.
i ate it alone in my father's air-conditioned room,
mulling on how lonely i was.

without family around, you do get a little sad.

i finished two out of three of my egg sandwich
(i can never seem to swallow the last one down)
and find myself lonely. once more.

should i really spend my saturday,
the last day of July like this?
no no no.
i'm going to watch some korean drama.

okay...not the real egg sandwich i made.
sure want to make one of those though.

the song, "Set You Free" by Danger Radio was in my head the whole day. 
means anything?

Having The Last Laugh Part 1

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intervention : i was planning to post things up from my old documents and since July is ending, i would like to post like mad just because this is my favorite month. I will post more 'Having The Last Laugh' soon. Enjoy and drink some tea while you're at it :)

A Diners Guest Eats Waffles

I feel hungry :]
Waffles is what I want
It is nice, spongy
And maple syrup is nice
And thick like honey
Sort of reminded me
Of you
No. I lied.
It reminded me of your lies
Waffles has unusual SQUARE2 patterns
Boxy, like how rigid you are
Precise, like how your insults are
Shallow, like who you really are
And needs some sweet maple syrup
To hide its crusty and unimpressive
But in this diner
I might add
Perhaps, Ill try something else
Eggs sound nice
Sunny side up
Yellow centre like the Giving Sun :)
Seems joyful dont you agree?
Creamy egg whites all around
A lot of kindness I could see
Damn, that rhymed
What the freak?
(Gosh, dont tell me that did too)
Thinking of eggs got me rhyming
That is a good sign, I hope
Dont beg for my attention, waffles
No more, Eggs will stay in this plate
It is more natural than your mixtures
Of chemicals and glutton
And I repeat that it got me rhyming
I wont mumble the perfect timing
So I say to you, waffles, I mustered:
Eggs really are better than waffles :)

Note: A Diners Guest Eats Waffles; 
I Eat Eggs.

when i typed waffles and eggs in Google Images, this came up.
how it spoke this story :)

Secretarial Pages

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 "I never really thought about it : I could get kicked out."


No. Not like I was in jail.
Being a junior in the Editorial Board,
we are newbies and need to be...
well, "keep an eye on you" kind of thing
(I'm sorry, the verb escapes me at the moment...)

A meeting was held for this Thursday
and there were rumors that it was
Boot Day.
Some cuts in members.

When we attended the meeting,
My Boss started to write a list of jobs
on the whiteboard, and by the time
she wrote the last job 'Editor',
I knew what was in store.
Today's meeting is what we've been waiting for.
Our permanent jobs.
*jeng jeng jeng*

We assembled and were given a briefing
(yes, it really was our permanent jobs till next year).
Then, the whiteboard marker was raised.
We waited anxiously as our names are written on the board
next to our permanent jobs. Like teeth-gnashing.
To the brink that the tension could knock us out.
Being expelled from this would be highly humiliating.
(Am I a little over-exaggerating? 

 Finally :
It came to the last four jobs.
Treasurer, Secretary, Assistant Editor and Editor.

And so far, my name was not in the board.
Or was not going to.

I frowned at the sight of Treasurer.
I'm bad with my money. I don't even trust myself with it.
If there were any money missing, I wouldn't notice.
I hope I'm not Treasurer. But then what lefts me...?

Oh man.
Is this how America's Next Top Model feels like???

Treasurer was given to The Kite Runner.
Simultaneously, we exhaled, relieved.
We were both nervous enough already.

That was when it came to my mind:
I might get kicked out.
I can't find anything optimistic about that.

My name was written
Next to Secretary.
We clapped.

I wanted to strangle my earlier-self for making me scared like that.
What was there to worry about?
But then again, you never know.

Assistant Editor and Editor was given out.
(Kudos to everybody that got the job.)
I feel really good that no one was discharged.
So I went over to the previous Secretary (now, my Sifu),
for some explanations and advices.
Thank you, Sifu :)

And that was that.

I am honest when I say this :
Never would I realize I would be The Secretary.
Let's not get it over our heads now.

No matter how important you are.
The role is never greater than Allah.

I try to carry this responsibility with elegant panache
And make a great name of the Franciscans' Editorial Board.

The torch is passed on.

just call me 'Secretary'
or better yet :
(muahahaha. talk about not going over your head.
allow me to enjoy this for one moment.)

we can go through this...if we're united as one :)

Small Sixteen

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"We have arrive. So what now?"

Speaking of arrival, my Small 16th Birthday is here
After waiting for...well, let's not compute now,
but after another year, I am officially sixteen years old.
No special parties.

Trust me, I watched enough MTV's Super Sweet Sixteen
to get horribly traumatized by the wasteful and bratty
behaviours of some rich kids that was intentionally
not edited out (good TV material, I guess).
I rather not.

Prior to any "Beth Swanson with her Tha' Club Par-tay
and giant helicopter entrance with the escort of ten
male harem carrying her in a pedestal so she could
flaunt her new champagne dress designed by 
Karl Lagerfeld 'himself' with special appearances from
P.Diddy and Nicole Kidman", I choose to have nothing special.

That didn't stop my Dad.

On Sunday, two days before the actual date of my birthday,
he asked me : Where you wanna go today?

Hmm. I'll think about it.

My List of Things I Wanna Get/Do Today:

1. Earphone Extension.

2. New Shoes.

3. Tablet PC (if possible)

4. Eat at Kak Nong Restaurant.

When I narrated the Table PC part, my Dad said:
Not going to happen.
Well, I did said 'if possible.'

We ate at Kak Nong Restaurant 
(the only time when I didn't want to buy curry puff, what is WRONG WITH ME?),
and afterwards, we spent three hours finding for shoes.
I only wanted ankle boots but there are none in the store.
So I found very nice denim wedges and was happy to leave it right then and there.
My Dad announced : No. I would not leave until you have four pair of shoes.
Well, he did persists.

So we went around the shop finding for three more.
And have to ask the shop attendant to change sizes millions of times.
Dang me and my big feet.
*Sighs* It's okay. At least I have them.

We were about to give up at the final shoe---there is always a final shoe,
 when my youngest brother (the only one that did not get left at home. Haha.), 
found a silver buckle emerald flats. Classy.
He slipped it in my right feet and well...what do you know?
It fits. Perfectly. I don't even have to change sizes.
Destiny or what?
"It's good that we didn't left you at home, huh?" my sister and I remarked.

Honestly, if I was a Girl with Emerald Shoes,
my brother was a Bona Fide Prince Charming.

We finished purchasing the goods and 
my father sets off to find his own slippers.
(The one pair of shoes he bought for himself cost
more than double for two of my pairs.)
And my sister found a cream-coloured flats.

Total Shoe Recount/ in pairs : 6

I'm a little impressed myself.
My earphone extension was also found
so now I could hear the music in my phone
without readjusting the wires vainly.

Secret Recipe was in order next.

summer brown wedges. my sister's.

white gladiator flats. my sister's.

the denim wedges. mines.

the silver-buckled emerald green flats. MINES.

It was a very good day.
I thank my Dad for it.
And Allah too, of course.

With my 16th birthday in just one more sunrise,
I am so amazed I lived this long 
and to be so blessed while I'm at it.

Allah truly is TOO GIVING.
But that's God for you.

Humble. A lot of people forgot to be that.

I wish not to.

So thank you.
Family, Friends & World.
the Journey is Still Ongoing

I wonder who would be there alongside me.

Algae Jungle

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Noticed something while checking my Blog.

Ever since I put up my ChatBox upwards in my blog,
(it existed for a long time but only recently have I
put it near my profile) people are starting to
comment more.

I understand that it's a hassle to scroll waaaay down
to just tell me something
(a grammar mistake, wrong info...yadda yadda)
Though, that just makes it reserve that only my friends could read it.
Now when it's so near to the top
Other people are starting to comment on it.
People I don't know.

Well, I can see the thing that they're trying.
And I'm not going to rampage and mock them.
I see their stuffs, think 'Cool' in my head and comment.

Though I like to live a day
where I don't read 'Hi Please Read My Blog...'
Just a wish.

In order to solve this problem,
perhaps I'll put on a new ChatBox
where people can just flood tons of those in it.

Until I have that.
Not so sure when.

And to those who wants me to check their blog,
yeah, go ahead.
Keep sending me those URLs.
What possibly I could do with my spare time?
(Is that sarcasm I'm sensing over there?)

It makes me think though...(uh oh)
Why do people want to do that?
It would be fine if there was something beneficial from there.
Or are they doing that just for the popularity?
Does everything really need to be a popularity contest?
Sounds hurtful, I know, but as cliche goes: The Truth Hurts.

Perhaps I would like to review back on 
why am I writing a blog myself.

I rather not.
Having a popular blog needs a lot of either
Shallow or Deep Thoughts.
I find I have a Mediocre Neither. Haha :D

Is this a Place To Vent?
It could play a part.
Though I prefer venting by Photoshopping.
It keeps my mind of things.

Uncover my Dark Secrets & People I Hate To The World?
No. I have a firm belief in not doing that
even before I set up my blog.
I'm a harmony-seeking idealist.
Let's just put it at that.

Finally, I think I know:

The Purpose of My Blog:

To Remind Myself In The Future on What Happened To Me Now

It's like a memoir for myself :)

Now allow me to write some more.

photo description : mini algae jungle under my mango tree
i post it up cause i think it's cute.

Coffee Wuz Here Yo

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What You Don't Know About Pillows

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and you thought Edward Cullen was creepy...

Suicidal Oreo Cookie

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no! don't jump!

Daddy Drama

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the only time I'll put 'Dad' and 'Drama' at the same sentence.
well, up-to-date confession: I've been trying to stay mad at my Dad.

this dates back to more than a week ago,
more precisely on the 8th of July 2010.
on this particular sunny Thursday morning,
I went to a competition held by a college
(to know my article for this competition, click here).

anyways, I won second and was in a particularly good mood,
despite not winning top prize when we were originally leading.
( Prize money was RM 750 and in my team there were five people,
hence RM 150 for each one of us. And you wonder why I was in good mood.
When it's money, it's money. Teenagers are always strap for cash.)

When I got back home ( and missed the ice-cream celebration; oh well),
I excitedly told my Dad the news.
(We did not even bother to prepare, maybe a few scenarios
I copied and paste from the internet but that was pretty much it.)
His reaction : why didn't you get first? Getting second is hardly anything.

I was genuinely happy and grateful we won.
But that just threw it out the window.

In addition to this 'average use of a parent' comment,
I was having 'my time of month' and my hormones
were, as usual as women describe it: unstable.
(It is also mixed with a feeling of guilt because
somehow at every competition I entered, I would
never, I repeat, never won first. So I was facing that
'low self-esteem' issues which I hardly get because
I am a hot-dang of an auspicious optimist.)
Admittedly, I bawled my eyes out.

A few days after that mishap,
I became a stubborn hermit in my room
that to go out to the living room (with my Dad present),
I would just sit down on the sofa,
head-straight to the TV only
with a sour face on and not talk.
Even my Dad, oblivious to my inner emotion
(he is a man. What are you going to do?),
had remark on this as I grudgingly walked away
from the living room on one of the days:
Why Is Everybody So Miserable?

I wonder why.

But after a week passes,
I don't think the message came across to him.
At all.
I can really understand the Daughter-Father Conflict now.
Why can't you tell that I am very upset with you?

Two days after that,
I threw my silver medal in the thrash bin.

I mean: why keep it when it means nothing, right?

And still. He did not understand.
Also, my brothers kept on bothering me on
why did I threw it in the rubbish bin in the first place.
My sister helpfully took it out for me
and puts in the medal case.
( Which was a good decision, because I'll be needing
it for school assembly on Monday. Haha. I can't tell my teacher
that I threw it in the thrash bin---even though it's true.)

See? At least a woman understands me.

The following week, I kept my communication
with my Dad as minimal as possible.
Answer if questioned only.
But the Cold Shoulder is proving to be not that effective.

List of Things On Why My Dad Thinks I'm Not Mad At Him:

1. I still speak to him. Whoaa, BIG mistake.
2. He may presume that locking myself in the room all the time is a Normal Teenage Thing---which is always true in the Parent's Guide Book to Teenage Habits.
3. When he wants his evening Milo, I make it for him and place it in front of him on the glass coster. Note: without a word.
4. When he wants crackers with his evening Milo, I find it in the container and give it to him. Note: without a word and unopened.

Either my Dad is clueless (which he is mostly not,
he is quite a perceptive person but then again, he doesn't have
a lot of experience---in my knowledge---on Teenage Angst because
my sister and I are quite properly raised)


I am really bad at acting mad  Z:/
Because it is in not my nature and character
to stay mad at someone for a long time.
So this goes in Ashiqin's Book of Records.

Fast forward to a almost a week later,
my Dad bought Mangosteen.
Not just a market-plastic size mangosteen;
but oversized-thrash-bag worth of mangosteen.


He bought the mangosteen during his afternoon lunch break.
(He works with the government but he has suspiciously long lunch breaks
to come back home from work, change, eat lunch, sleep and change again for work,
which I question silently from time to time.)
Anyways, when he changed back from work, he spotted me eating some
in the living room while my brother was watching TV.
Confused on how to respond, I grinned at him with my mouth still full with
the white flesh of the mangosteen.
"Hmmph," my Dad harrumphed (his signature trademark), "Sombong."
(Which means : Proud.)

I don't know what he was on about:
My Cold Shoulder method (which I embarassingly caved in at the sight
of some local tropical fruits) or my cheeky grin.
Either of which, I don't know.

But I guess, from that day on
(dubbed The Day Of Mangosteen),
my Dad and I are cool.

Another interesting occurence:

On Saturday, I heard we
(minus Mum, she was having her Monthly Closing Sale that day),
are going out to eat dinner.
Firstly, I just heard from my Youngest Brother
that we were picking my sister up from the Score A SPM Lecture.
I said I passed. But he said if I wanted to eat, I should come.
So I changed.

When I went to the living room,
my Dad was musing on a list that my youngest brother made
(comprises of DraWing BLock, CRayonS and, solar power light )
He was stuck at the unreadable end part of it that when
he asked my brother about what it was, he dodged shyly
and jumped up hesitantly around him.

Then, he looked up to me and said:
Shiqin, go and change. Do you want to eat?
Matter-of-factly, I answered, "Yeah."
Then come with us. We're going out for dinner.

Wow. An actual invitation.

I already changed actually but my Dad's Rule on Going Out is:
If You Are Dressed, We Go.
But to have an invitation from my Dad
(well, he said it in a very Daddy-like manner that makes,
even I that gets 'wow, your Dad is so cool'
stated to me by my friends, astounded. And slighty chary.)

We went.

The sky was completely dark when we got to a Stationary Store.
We picked my sister up and had our dinner (at 6 p.m.)
and so we were finding for stuffs we need to supply.

On our way, we were having some conversations and
shared some jokes. Then, we started to complain about
my Oldest Young Brother's writing skills.
Then my Middle Young Brother told us about a writing exercise his
English Teacher gave them.

He assigned the class to make a scary sentence out of the following:

Ali-walking-home-saw-dead man

Typically, most of the class pretty much had the same line:
While Ali was walking home, he saw a dead man.
But one boy wrote:

Ali saw a dead man walking home.

I applauded.
"Now that's creative," I said.
"You also so creative, Shiqin," Dad intervened, "I read
your writing in the computer."
My computer? When did he read from my laptop?
Oh, wait. There was a note I wrote when I was desperately lonely
at home, titled 'The Mindful Mind of Ashiqin Alone with Her Mindful Mind Part One.'
that was in the boys' computer. Ohh...
"You like to muse on things. Veeeery creative."
My reaction: Um. Okay. That was creepy. Rare but creepy.
A compliment from father was so rare that I thought he was sarcastic.
Was he? I don't know. I'm not so sure...
(I'd post this article in a later post for those curious enough to check.)

Anyways, on our way to the Stationary Store...

Note: I have a love/hate affairs with Stationary Stores.
I love it because they are so many things I want to buy from there
and I hate it because they are so many useless things I want to buy from there.

We found the things in my brother's list.
The crayon and the solar power light that he was so bashful to purchase.
The last item was the drawing block and we were having some difficult time
to locate where exactly was it. We had been there before and are slightly
familiar with the location of...everything. But they apparently had reorganized everything
and were scouring the aisles three times for any sight of drawing blocks.
Finally, my brothers found it.
It was in the middle aisle of the shop (it use to be on the end of the right side
so the middle part was absolutely the last place we would search).

I am particularly helping to find for self-indulgent reason: I would like a sketchbook.
Not a large one which I have three of (two of them have no empty paper left) but a small one.
Like notebook size. My brother found his desired drawing block and I inquired if there
was sketch book at the other side of the aisle. My Oldest Young Brother said 'Yeah!'
and pointed just to his right. I went there and found the same larger brand of sketchbooks
that I saw from visiting this store before.

My eyes fell on a black spiral notebook and I automatically flipped one open.
It has NO LINES.
This is a sketchbook.
A hard-cover sketchbook.

"What's that, Shiqin?" My Dad asked, "Whatever you want, I'll buy it."
I felt flattered by that (any woman would) and just said, "This."
The spiral black sketchbooks had three sizes :
notebook-small, examination pad-average, drawing block-large.
"Why won't you take the big one?" my Dad asked reasonably.
"I want one that I can carry around easily," I said.
I have been finding for those types of sketchbooks for ages.

Pleased, I carry it all the way to the counter.

---My siblings and I had a short interlude of aww-ing
at a collection of pens that looked like black and white chocolate.
I can't believe I didn't catch a photo. But there was an employer
nearby and I have a warning at another stationary store before about 'No Photo, Please.'
No offense, but the stationeries are not really Taylor Lautners or Heidi Klums, you know.
Plus, free advertisement.

Back home, I realized something (or perhaps, I am a little over my head, but):
the Cold Shoulder worked!

I could not process that. It actually worked. 
I actually got results.
Call the Department of Women and Family Affairs;
I have evidence that this method is a success.

Truth is, I'm not so sure if it worked myself.
Perhaps it's just me.

It did goes to show that:

My Dad wants me to be happy 
even if 
I am seriously angry, 
or more accurately, as the teen-slang goes: 
at him.

And whether he knows it or not.

my new sketchbook :)

Hear Me Out

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    "I can't help but to be more than curious when it comes to you."
"More than more, there were times where I thought
I can't have enough of this.
Addiction or thirst, love is a dangerous illusion."

...hey, that should be song :D

[The sentence above is now copyrighted.]

Sometimes, sentences like those
---a silly sliver of thought that pass by
my head that is an echo of my consciousness
begging for some vocabulary exercise and
and a derision to optimistic love songs that
promises more than it should---
comes and visit me that make me stop and think
and curse on why I haven't had a pen&paper
with me at that time.
Always frustrating. All the time.

well, I have a computer this time.
haha opportunistic but badly-timed trail of thought.

sigh. ignore me.
I'm just being weird at this point.

Thinking too much is a bad habits of mine.
When I'm alone (and often, I am),
I start to think far too much.
That is why, when I could, my faithful earphones
are stuck in my ears, blasting in the highest volume
(that I wished could be just a little more higher),
playing songs that make (or distract) me to visualize.
The most easily graphical song in my playlist?
Most of them are.
That is why I go for the fast beats and electro songs.
I tend to doze off to the slower songs. Heeee :D

To all those who share the same story, something annoying
when you're wearing earphones is that when you're
obviously popped the earphones on, someone would always
come to you and started to talk to you and you in turn just stare
at them, hoping you could read lips.
And when they're done, they'll wait a while for you to respond.
"Hello? Are you even listening to me?" They might say (or to you, mouthed).
You would tug the cord to my earphones with a 'you think?' look on your face.
"Oh." Their lips went. And they start to say something really fast
and when you took of the earphones, they started to laugh in your face.
Whatever they say, they wanted to say it for a long time.

But here is my fast tips on how to…

Make Your Friends Think You're Listening To Them With Your Earphones On

(also applies when you don't have earphones on):

  • When they're talking, look at them with eyebrows furrowed.
  • When they smile and start to laugh at something, laugh a little too.
  • When they seem to ask you something, say these three magical words: I don't know.
  • When they say something and you're unsure how to respond, shrug or raise your eyebrows heavily. My favorite method is giving an 'eh.'
  • When they look away, tap on their shoulders and give them a 'what's up?' nod. They'll fill you in, anyways (whether this time you're listening or not).
  • And when they start to cry, take out those earphones and hug them.

These tips are just my compilation on what I did to my family members.

I wouldn't recommend these to people who are in relationships though. Trust me, you'll get seriously burned after that. I hold no responsibility if your partner wants to break up with you following those tips. But if you just want to see if it works, sure. Knock yourselves out.

p.s. People do catch on when you're not listening.

It's polite to listen. So listen all and listen well.

    Word of the Day: derision
    - contemptuous ridicule or mockery. you'll like to use that ;D

Fantastic Fanatics

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I really did felt like ice-cream.

Anyways, I've been trying to search back
all my past papers which I doodled on.

Doodles = man's two in one stress-reliever and amusing comic.

I just like to read back what I write and smile :)

So I feel like posting some of them here
(so if I lost the paper, who cares?)
and no 'inside jokes' here.
I really hate when there is something
funny and you just don't know what's it about.

Retraced, I found my very first essay to my English teacher.
It is about health fanatics.
I picked it because I could use a friend as a reference. Haha.
There are lots of red underlines and circles in this one.

But no worries! I take it and rewrote it back.
My English teacher would be so relieved :)

Read on.

Subject: Health Fanatics                                                                                
Date: 08.01.2010

"Study shows that the steam from one cup of coffee has more antioxidants than three oranges." This type of information is popping everywhere from newspaper to news table. Somehow every new breath of interesting statistic is being broadcasted to the public. All o this information is leading up to a more health-conscious society. It seems that everybody is jumping into the "A Better and Longer Life" band wagon.

People are shifting their typical American feast of French fries, pizza and burger for an uptight, stricter diet of yogurt, fresh food and tofu by the hundreds everyday. Health fanatics are appearing like mushrooms after rain, though, many wonder if this is just a trend, a short-term fad.

Health fanatics' most obvious trait is their obsessive to the point of paranoid ways of eating. A well composed diet of this and that, a diet under 800 calories and keeping a meticulous daily journal tracking their calorie intake. Some even went to the extreme and weigh their food before dump it into the blender for a smoothie.

Exercising is a daily routine for health fanatics . Eager followers of this lifestyle do yoga, Pilates and regular gym work out as every day practices and a 5 mile jog is a breeze. On the upside to all these bitter hardship is a glorious reward of a tone body and higher metabolism (which is good for calories to burn even faster, so thumbs up!) Here, teacher puts a '?'. Clearly, she doesn't trace my humor.

Health fanatics, despite their obvious code of living, could get overlapped with another social term which is 'eco-lovers'. Living as a health fanatics actually does decrease your carbon footprint. Most health fanatics tend to buy more fresh food and skip the expensive meat. Also, instead of driving a gas-emitting car to work, they would probably rather ride a bike or walk to the subway as a short exercise (plus, they could avoid the stress of traffic altogether).  Besides that, being active outdoors would decrease the use of electricity.

Being a health fanatic does not just benefit your life but also your wallet. As explained in the previous paragraph, fanatics (unself-confessed vegetarians) would spend less money on expensive meat in the market and go for whole food which are much cheaper. They also do not spend much indoor watching television but they like to spend their time exercising. Therefore, the monthly electricity bill is likely a meager a hundred dollars and below.

In the end, the debate about healthy living ends with the individual's choice (the fallout of the debate was caused by the more heated debate of the economy and army surges) and everybody wants to live longer this time of age with new scientific discovery. Living life well is great, I am unsure about fanaticism. Though the world is inviting a new way of living life with Super Food (an still-experimental capsule that has everything you need in a day---it tastes good too) and Oxygen Capsule (for your skin cells to rejuvenate and feel younger), being a health fanatic could not change. Sweatpants are here to stay.

Mark : 30/50

No hard feelings, teacher.
This essay really did has quite a number of swishes from your red pen.
My bad.

P.S. This essay is not to offend health fanatics. If it's anything, I envy you. 
And I will continue to envy you while eating a bag of potato chips :)

Old and New

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I dream about that dreaded person.
Seems like its being a ghost now.
Did you die?

Hmm. I just felt numb thinking about that.
I seriously do not care no more.
(Is that too harsh?)

That person is, I'm not going to lie,
is one of the most influential person in my life.
I rather not be.
So this post is not going to be about you.

for just one second, i thought i had my life back.
then you showed up.

let me move on
(because that's what i've been doing the whole time):

a teacher, there was.
---have i gone Yoda on you? haha

and he taught us History.
i'm not going to say that he is a bad teacher.
but he does make us stressed out to memorize
every article in our textbook by heart
(or so we try).

we count our lucky stars that he only has a period
with us for a day. that's how we like it.

but today.
oh no.
two periods.

A new timetable was given out.
And whoo-pee, Wednesday has two History period.
We can barely breathe through one.

i tried to finish my add maths work when i noticed
my school-mates sitting in front of me
avidly reading Chapter 4 of the Form 4 History textbook.


"oh-my-gosh!" i spun around to my bag and exert my own
copy of my textbook. "i shouldn't be doing this!!!"
and jammed my Add Maths textbook back in
(sorry Awesome Add Maths Teacher who was still in class
that caught me doing that and said nothing).
i asked the kite-runner next to me to do the same thing,
in hope that she would not be doomed.

we feverishly read through the pages,
reviewing back facts with each other.

my Add Maths teacher began 'rounding' the class.
"Sejarah?" (History.) "Wah, why are you studying for Sejarah?"
"Um...teacher would ask us questions." :D
"Oh really? So good. You even study for it.
When he ask question, you answer.
When I ask question, you don't answer. Hahaha."
And he walks away to the front of the class.
Sorry, teacher :(

( though, in defense, you only need to read History
to understand it. but Add Maths and Physics are entirely
new things. We need to think. Real hard. I'm so sorry that
we are not so educated to please you with enthusiastic
hand-raises. we will try better, teacher. gomenasai.)

anyhow, on to studying in Schumacher speed.

then :

"you know they say we'll get a new teacher."


we looked at the source of this information and ask
"is this true???"
"i don't know. ask the class monitor."
we craned our heads around.
"is this true???" we demanded.
"what?" she asked.
"you know..."

"okay! enough saying what!!!"
the kite-runner shouted out.
we silenced ourselves.
"is it confirmed that we are really having a new teacher?"
Stephy asked, straightforward as always,
"and if it's the same teacher that comes through
the door, i will seriously kill you all!"
"it's not confirmed yet."

they 'say' that it was going to be a woman this time.
we all started to chatter, wondering if she would be a good teacher.

someone went through the door.

smiles broke out in the room.
new teacher.

oh yeah.

| good luck in your new subject, teacher. teach us well. |

Cotton Candy

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"look! that cloud looks like a cotton candy! and that cloud
 looks like a cotton candy
and that cloud looks like a cotton candy..."

today was a blur of exhausting events,
surprising, random and just plain sweaty.
and it started from last night.

a phone call

I picked up my phone as the stinging
buzz of guitar and bass played.
---my ringtone, Say (Half Past Nine) by Hot Chelle Rae.
"Hey, Fred." I greeted brightly to my friend on the other line.
"Hai Ash," she said, "'d you know it's me?"
"I got caller ID."
"Oh. Well," I can tell she was smiling, "did Vad tell you what's your job for SRM tomorrow?"
SRM = Sidang Redaksi Majalah aka Editorial Board.

"Um, no. She didn't. What we're doing tomorrow?"
"We will have to jaga," (take care), "of the money tomorrow."
In my head, the July Issue of MAD (Make A Difference, our monthly school mag)
popped in my head.
"Oh. We're selling the issue tomorrow?"
"No. This isn't MAD. It's cotton candy."
I pressed my lips together: okay.
"Err...what's the cotton candy for?"
"To sell."
"Yeah, and why are we selling it tomorrow?"
I did not get why we need to sell those in school. Odd.
"For Sukan Carnival."
Sukan Carnival = Sports Carnival.

"Wait. That's tomorrow???"
"Yeah Ash." She's smiling again. I understand that.
"Oh Fred! Thank gosh you're telling me. I so forgot that it's tomorrow!"
"It's okay."
"I would've been in my bus and on my way to school tomorrow if you hadn't called me!"
"Hahaha. It's fine."

I began asking her the time we need to arrive and when the event will end.
So yes. I was a little mad at myself that it slipped off my mind.
I was about to get an epic rip for being the only one in school tomorrow.
Thank you Fred.

So my job is to find 25 bucks in changes. No problem.

a problem

Because of this late notice, I found out my mum was sick.
My Mum is like Superwoman. She hardly gets sick.
And when she's laying in bed and say that all parts of her body hurts,
that's bad.

So i just requested that if she didn't feel fine the next day,
I won't come to the Sports Carnival.
My Mum just asked me to get ready and see if she could make it.

I planned to woke up at 5.30 am (an hour earlier than normal)
and indulge myself for a longer shut-eye :)
I started by my sister's alarm at 4.30 am
(or earlier. That stupid phone sometimes wakes me
up, intentionally or not, around 4.27 am. I want my 3 minutes back).
My sister asked me to get up since i was the one that wakes up first.
I sleepily said that i'm waking at 5.30 am. Silence. I snuggled back in.
I heard the TV opened. Oh, right. It was probably my Dad.
 The 2010 World Cup Finals.
Spain v Netherlands.
As a harmony-seeking observer, I don't really pick sides.
Either of them winning this nice Cup to drink from would be fine for me.

I was curious who won.

a disturbance

My brothers woke up and there was some measurable noise outside.
One of my brother opened the door and looked in.
"Eh. Why is Shiqin not up? It's over four-thirty already."
I didn't bother to answer him.
"She's waking up at five-thirty!" my sister shouted, annoyed.
"Oh." Door closes.

A few minutes later...

Door opens. "Spain won."
"Ughhhh." We both moaned from the pillow. Door closes.

I can truly recall but i think i slept because when i woke up,
my sister is already dressed in her uniform.
Door opens.
"Why is Shiqin still sleeping?" the same brother asked.
"Haiyah!" My sister snapped, 
"She's waking up at five-thirty! Why do you have to ask that so many times?"
Door closes.
Thanks, Sis.

At five-thirty, I woke up at the sound of my alarm.
"Go to hell!" I shouted to my pillow (indicating my brother).
I chatted with my sister for a while and before entering the bathroom,
I checked in my Mum's bedroom.
"Hey, Ma. You okay?"
She still looked pretty sick.
I thought to myself : well, even if she's not going to send me,
at least i should bathe first.

My sister already left for school when I was done.
Again, i checked in with my Mum.
I asked if she was okay to send me. She lay there for a while.
Later, she got up and went into the bathroom.
I went away to eat breakfast. I find my brother watching TV.
His school didn't have any classes because they had a concert last Saturday.
Whatever. My school did, it was even on a Sunday, and we hadn't any holidays.

So. After eating my breakfast, my Dad went out from his bedroom.
Looking at me with sleepy eyes
(the World Cup Finals was from 2.30 am till about 5 am. Whoa),
he asked me : why're you here?
"Oh. I have Sports Carnival today. I need to go to Stadium Likas."
He turned and shuffled away to the bathroom.

I was up to put my plates back to the kitchen when my Dad was back,
he asked me : who's going to send you?
"Umm..uh...Mama but she's..."
I left that sentence hanging cause she was already in the kitchen, fully dressed.
My Dad shuffled away.

I arrived at the parking lot of Likas' Dorm.
that's where we annually gather to get our attendance ticked.
i tried to find my class line
(the shortest one, I swear. So many of my classmates are prefects.),
and it was proving to be a challenge. One of my prefect friend indicate where it was located.
It really was the shortest line.

I sat down and my awesomely best friend spotted me.
We chatted the whole way while the teachers were trying to get us to listen.
The people who are not applied to any sports event is to attend
a mandatory aerobics exercise. It sounds lame but it's fun to see the teachers doing it ;)
I was not going because i have that SRM duty.
Fred came later on to tell that we'll hang around there for a while to wait
for the cotton-candy person.
When the aerobics are dismissed, I said goodbye to my friends,
"Sorry. Need to wait for the cotton candy man."
In my entire life, I thought I would never have to say that sentence.

We waited for this cotton candy person.
(I was told that it wasn't a 'cotton candy man',
it was a 'cotton candy woman'.)
"I guess we need to wait for that cotton-candy woman."
Again, not a sentence I thought I need to ever say.
About five to ten minutes later, it came.
(it was a cotton candy woman.)

We (Bren, Fred and I) started to sell it.

a tree.

The thing about the cotton candy is that we have
to carry it around in a large, black plastic bag.
So when we tried to sell it to a friend from afar,
"Hey! You want cotton candy?"
"That's cotton candy? I thought you guys were carrying thrash!"
We have a good laugh at that.

the cotton candy in a thrash bag.

a random occurrence

When the idea of going to the hockey teams was introduced,
I was a little scruple by the long walk we have to make.
But we walked to there anyways.

some cotton candy clouds along the walk.

While we were walking along the road,
carring the plastic bag and holding up cotton candy to sell,
a car stopped right beside us. 
We stopped dead in our steps and stared at it.
Inside, there was a man with black glasses on.
He was practically guffawing at us.
He had his hand cover over his mouth and laughed.

What the? Offending much? 

What's wrong with some teenagers selling some cotton candy?
I gave him a wtf-are-you-looking-at?-have-you-never-saw-this-before? look
and we began walking again, complaining "what's the matter with that guy?"
A few moments later (it stopped a long while as we walked, indignantly, away),
I heard it's engine.
"Okay, when it passes, don't look at the driver." I said.
"Not planning to." Fred said (I think).
The car passed by and I only saw the back.

a drizzle-fuh-dizzel

When we came to the hockey, it was perfectly during half-time
and a teacher of mines (a very cheeky one)
opened the sprinkler-hose
(more like jet hose) to the grass-carpet field.
When we walked pass by, he sprayed it on us.
It was like light drizzle but we still squealed and laughed.

it was pretty cool that we came during that time.

the man in the cowboy hat and yellow shirt was the teacher that sprayed us.

We sold some cotton candy (they need sugar rush!) to the hockey players 
and sat ourselves down to watch the game continue. 
It was an excuse to have a break.
(Have a Break, Have a Kit Kat? No. Cotton Candy!)

After about 12 minutes watching the game,
we headed back to our bags and to the Stadium Likas.

the walk (to remember) to the stadium.

We split up to our respected Sport Houses.
Mines Comet---the Yellow House.
I sat at the back, looking over the sea of yellow.
I don't spot any of my friends there.
But i was fine with that. i like to think to myself.

go comet go comet go!

the results were announced
(but for added anxiety, the Overall House Winner was not).
it was teemed with normalcy and i thought to myself that 
this was going to be the second-last time i could do this.
i enjoyed myself in its atmosphere, though how average it maybe.

something i caught while 'thinking to myself'.

I stayed in silence for i don't know how long
until the all the prizes (cheap medals) was given.
I hesitantly called my Mum to pick me up.
She was at her shop in Donggongon (about 20++ km from there)
and she said she had promised to 'meet up with a member' soon.
See? Superwoman.

I said fine. She could go meet her member. I'll just wait for her there.
(Not saying that my Mum is neglecting me. 
There was an open restaurant at the Stadium.)
I waited with some of my friends.
When it was left me and a friend, I suggested that
we lepak (hang out) at the restaurant.
We have some good conversations :)
I didn't have a lot of quality time with her lately.

a surprising find

After purchasing a Pepsi Twist
(not that I'm no Cola fan but I haven't
drink this bad boy for a long time),
we agreed to went up to the VIP spot
and enjoy this amazing breeze 
that was happening today from up there.
When we got there, I spotted a handphone.
My friend and I checked it out for awhile.
We were not going to steal it. No.
But we were trying to figure out who was the owner.
Around that time, my Mum called and told me she was waiting for me.

First things first.

We searched downstairs near the entrance for
Sister (a real Sister. She's in our school).
We located her and told her about the phone.
She asked where we found it.
We told her.
She wanted to know exactly where we found it.
I said I needed to go and left my friend to show
her where we located it.

a conclusion

I spotted my Mum's red Bighorn outside.
And I hopped in.

As she told me about how this member of hers
was acquainting her to a Datin that lived at the
exclusive and strictly-only-for-the-VVIP-worthy 
Sutera Harbour Residence
(so exclusive that it was my first time hearing a
residential area at Sutera Harbour),
I drank my Pepsi.

And plot my devious revenge to the man-in-the-car-who-laughs-at-teenagers-selling-cotton-candy.