she notes

The Silent Scream

2009-07-31T00:57:00.015+08:00

* let's seat and talk about talking*

What makes us so hard to talk to each other?

The Un-stripped Version.

i don't know, i have yet to encounter such situation.i am atiqah muhamad, i can make small talks with nude people in a lif, i do not have a fear for talking nor am i claustrophobic. the end

This is yet the toughest question I am asked to ponder upon. And I mean it when I say toughest. I have personal hatred to such challenging arguments, this is a personal attack.Talking about me against the world.

The Stripped ( layer by layer ) Version.

Conversations. I love conversations, how can you not?. How can you not love that one thing that makes you learn about a person, inside and out, to uncased the real human behind all that thick clothing. How can you not appreciate the one thing that makes you grow into life, grow as a human. I love conversations and not because I am generally talkative by nature, but because it had been a teacher, a guru, a philosopher, a therapist and a friend, with no excise taxes.

If you ask me, I think everyone can talk, but little can really communicate, can really connect. Talking is a basic human ability just like eating, or walking or making up excuses.

Someone I knew, long ago, said rather harshly " You want to talk, so talk" and I did. I probably wasted half an hour, then at some point I stopped, it came to me like an epiphany, I can talk, I can give an award winning speech, but we were not communicating. So it's basically pointless.

I think communicating becomes so hard to do, because of the emotional detachment and the lack of interest of the other party. If no two people have the common interest of embarking on a conversation , then yes, I so firmly believe this is the reason why talking becomes a task.

Imagine, a real shopaholic with a fetish for shoes. Here she is plunging herself at you about a pair of newly arrived Mary Jane perched on a rack calling out her name. She can go on about it for hours to her DOTA gaming brother, who seriously don't even know what a Mary Jane is and to say the least do not even have the slightest interest in it. So then everything that comes out of her is a blur, nothing but some pointless rant that the brother wished she would just stop. Worst, it turns into a fight, and in this case probably a mild verbal war.

This is classic scenario.

I am a believer in the theory that you can never really force a person, it would help, but to what extent? It takes two to tango, and I can say that for some time now I have been dancing alone - its really no fun, pathetic, horribly pitiful. Same goes to talking. One person's effort is never enough, and matters just gets out of proportion if you try to force it out. What started as an innocent conversation, flares out into an outburst of emotions that ends with an emotional war. Some may be too well acquainted with the situation and the outcome becomes too predictable, so they choose to shy away from talking.

A Thousand Years Of Good Prayer is a perfect portrayal of a one sided interest in a conversation. Mr. Shi tried to make an emotional connection with her daughter, he tried to talk. He repeatedly forced Yilan to talk about her failed marriage. Yilan on the other hand, simply shuts off, emotionally detaching herself from the father whom she disregards. She did not want to make the pretentious effort of talking to someone whom for the past years had gave no emotional attention that she deserved.

Then probably we can say that real conversation sparks when you find the right person to confide to. The same one that makes you feel safe talking about matters that make you vulnerable, that might strip you down until you are transparent. And that right person could be anyone, a stranger even, but definitely someone who shows interest and are emotionally present.

Talk ! Yes, it ain't rocket science but if you don't have the heart for it, then trust me, it's like an engineer trying to operate on a dying man - its just impossible.

So how do you overcome the emotional war?

Like any other war, it takes courage. It takes honesty , maturity and the bravery to come up and start to express, start to allow yourself to embark on conversations and try to make the conscious effort to connect to others. It would not be a bed of roses, it won't be smooth sailing. There will be rough tides, many awkward silences, but probably in time those silent awkward moments would turn into an unspoken understanding.

But that's just a lame theory that I came up with. I wouldn't know this for a fact, this is one of the many battles I have yet to win.

. Ciao .

The Puncture In Her

2009-07-30T23:56:00.005+08:00

few things make me move these days

few things make my world rattle, makes it heave
very little things even matter

tired is when the body feels like a punching bag, beaten all over. weary is when the body feels like purging every drop of caffeine drank under the influence of undone assignments. enough is when nights are meant for preparing speeches on euthanasia, morning comes and you try to make sense of that 5 pages long of justification on the nonsensical practice of mercy killing , afternoon knocks and it's time to dig up some brainy ass clever answers on exchange rate, and it's midnight again, and it's back to square one. it's back to squeezing that minuscule brain of yours on the suitability of the linear regression technique.

in between is the time of torture. the after hours is when the aftermath takes its course. exactly when you feel like all hell have break loose. so you go on screaming in your head, at decibels so high, your vein dilates and eventually raptures. exhausted. and all you ever wanted, all you ever crave is one good dream, one decent sleep. an imaginary world where you try to make belief of all things far fetched, so you hang on to that last grip, so tight, that maybe you wouldn't fall out of grace (again).

the silent therapy is when you first let that tough slap across the face cools away. the quite epiphany is when you make peace with the mistakes you thought would do justice for all the things you've done wrong, a retribution for the times you thought life is all about the wrongs that you ought to make at the right time. the psycho escapist period is when you poke through all your exam sheets, you make multiple attempt of killing your snugly pillow , you try to treat nescafe like it was John Barleycorn also that time when you go on a hiatus and resort to hookah.

the act of ceding is when you deliberately ask the rhetorical question , why-oh-why. relinquishing is when he tells you "tomorrow you'll fail to fail" and it turns out to be a complete bogus, the sympathetic lie you wish nobody would ever tell. giving up is when you seat on your chair and thought- that's enough, c'est la vie. c'est la vie. and life's' a bitch. giving up is when you gave it all, you swore you gave everything and still got back a handful of crap.

putting up a block dead face is when you're almost rolled out eyeballs fells like sinking in tears. exiting the class in blisters of shame. escaping the heavy air that chokes your right around the neck. bringing the world to silence is when you simply shuts off and remain hollow, untouchable by all remarks.gliding through the crowd is when you try to be invisible, because they've had the pieces all wrong. failure is my middle name. it's always there. now maybe just more commonly addressed than before.

i want a stranger, completely orthogonal. i want a stranger to show me all the new places. i want a stranger that would excite me with all the new experiences. i want a stranger to shake my world. to make me do somersaults again.

p/s : yes, i rant. this is my attempt at adding more entries here in my so called academic blog. this has been carefully filtered. the unfiltered, uncensored version is available on my not so academic blog. entry chosen for personal reasons :P

The Forgotten

2009-07-30T07:32:00.004+08:00

i can't believe i forgot to publish the entry below. darn it :'(

*

The Four Amigos

2009-03-21T17:07:00.019+08:00

" just call my name, and I'll be there"- Jackson Five

For Syireen, Fadhli and Luthfi

They traveled the sempiternal land, like pilgrims do. They trudge the road often taken, funny, this journey was emphatically different. The sun glee in joy, as if commemorating this mission they vow to finish. Under the blaze of eternal sunshine,they're hearts pounded faster, they're feet got heavier, they're bodies fatigued than ever, but they say to each other : " Hey you, just one more petite Nipponese figure, and then it will all be over".

Like midgets in a sea of towering concrete monsters , the quartet were humble physiques propelling through a tsunami of blue-collar commoners. They exchanged hello's with a good deal of strangers, met too many new faces, seen a galore of places, traded neosis and begin to understand their differences. Time, like a stringent discipline teacher, was never kind. Not before, not now maybe even never. A second ago the sky was painted blue, candy cotton clouds repleting the grand open field, now the owls eyes are wide awake, the stars starts to twinkle and the moon - well it sparkles, the sublime beauty of the night creeps and they knew they had to call it quits.Still tough luck on that last Japanese lady, but fret not they met the Goldman and his sidekick buddy.

The silence was complete. The four amigos all fell asleep while the chap in the driver's seat weave through the busy street. Then drops of of merciful rain decorates the window pane, they were thankful for what they have gained.

Then begin a new chapter, the one where they poured all their ideas over. Too many intangible ambitions, but too little tools to make it happen. Circumstances never seem to have sympathy, all it it did was laugh in the corner leaving the quartet with no pity. Sure, there were times when everything seemed to be falling out of grace, there were times they felt like, " why not just end this race"and leave everything in disgrace.

The battles weren't easy. They were physically tired, mentally exhausted and emotionally drained. The growing bags under the eyes was proof of those long nights trying to make what seemed amateur a little more professional. Working on each flaw, correcting every defect, perfecting the imperfect. The dark night is now no different then the bright morning sky. Minutes became hours, hours became days and everything was somehow in fast forward. They were like elves working on christmas eve, there were just too much.

Tension filled the air, choking everyone right up to the neck. There was a silent understanding amongst them all. 'I'm this close off the edge, so don't push it".

The four amigos knew better, why not make it one jolly ride for each member. It's inevitable for matters to go out of proportion, it's the mechanics of living.They knew this was a task to be handled together , all the technicalities should not be mourn over. Jokes were cracked, driving skills were polished and everything in between are the little things they will someday look back and have a long hard laugh on.

They had a great time together, they learned that yes, they are only amateurs, with little skills, zero talent, but the twist of it all, they in the end made it happened. It may not be an award winning documentary, but the effort was more than satisfactory. They are happy with how things role, they probably would not have it any other way, and in the end they can look at each other and say, " good going mate, it's been a good ride though no more documentaries for the time being, "

they are proud of each other and that's all that really matters :)

p/s: I never really got to thank my group members for everything. Thank you Syireen, Fadhli, and Luthfi. Thank you nib wits, you've gave me an experience like no other. To my classmates, you guys rock, and everyone did awesome and you too Mr. Derrick, you were a good critique and always a good teacher.

cheers,

Spare Me The Drama

2009-03-15T19:53:00.012+08:00

"I don't use drugs, my dreams are frightening enough"-M.C Esher

You can see it on our faces, you can tell from the frown, you can definitely tell by the way everyone's head keeps dozing off half way through classes. We are one tired lot of zombies, yes yes we are.

I was in a class, a big one. Everyone was there and we had the documentary screening, I was a nerve wreck,even a little nausea So all of us had to present out our documentary. The art's class, the engineering classes and the architecture students we're all present and surprise surprise, our group had to go first. I, rarely enough, was at a lost of words. The staring was pushing me off the edge, and the aggravation only intensified , so much that at that instant I hoped the earth would just shook real hard and the world to fall into into chaos.I was left alone to talk, and all I could do was BLAB, after some erm and uh and more erm erm I was done. I was so angry with myself I started throwing tea bags at Zhe Mun ( for no obvious reason ). So the lecturers had to deduct two points out of the whole project for the two tea bags I threw at him. So from a three we were left with one point. One sympathetic point. I was so furious , I was disappointed more than words can ever explain.I felt defeated, the kind when boxers do when they exit a fighting ring with their head down. I was angry because I let my group mates down, I was mad because I knew I could have don't a gazillion times better, I felt I have disappoint you, Mr Derrick. I gave in, threw all my pride aside and I started crying, heavy crying. ... The crying continued through out the whole screening.I was panting real hard while my right arm clenched tight to that purple Kleenex box.

then,

The next thing you know, I was on my bed, and it was already 11 on a Saturday morning. GOOD GOSH!!!!!!That was all a dream.!!!!! No let me rephrase that " that was all a nightmare??!!" I woke up in a daze, but I was crying still. No serious, this might crack you up but I could have sworn there were droplets of tears.It took a while for things to snap back and once it did I was laughing my *** off. Darn, could have spare me the drama right?! To be frank, I never felt more relieved (oh minus that time when spm results were out though)

The nightmare had me pondering on three things:
Why Zhe Mun ?
Why tea bags?
Why TWO tea bags?

Last night I had a nightmare, I woke up crying and my brother would laugh his intestines out reading this.

I'm just hoping things would just go the opposite tomorrow at the presentation. Having my fingers cross :)

love,
anti-nightmare.

Blab

2009-03-15T19:36:00.002+08:00

“ Smiling requires 26 muscles to work, I figured that I don’t have that much calorie to burn, so I am smiling with my eyes- I only need one muscle” – Mr Derrick

Oh see something new every day.

Sorry Mr Derick sir, out of complete boredom, I actually google it and there were many other professional say on the matter, but none of it said that it takes 26 muscles to cast a smile. There were 21, 22, 37, 38 but NOT 26. Plus did you know frowning actually burns more calories than smiling does.

So Nicole Richie what does this say = “Go ahead and frown, you might save on the salads!”

Maybe that’s how Katie Holmes got so stick like; it’s all that frowning and mental scientology husband of hers.

Lina told me once back in senior high, “I love the way you write”. But I write complete blabber. I guess she loves me blabbering instead of writing.

So I tested the hypothesis, on an English test paper.Erk. Hypothesis rejected. My teacher blabbed about my blabbering.

But in all honesty, isn’t it easier to just go random and write as we speak/feel (same difference). Like this “academic blog” right here, it takes me hours just thinking about something really profound to write about. Yeah hear that- profound. I am no Anon; I don’t have anything profound to write about. I’m a mindless nineteen year- old trying to dig out extra cash from god knows where. I am living on bread because I have a fetish for well, material things. I go back and forth on a topic, I’ll write something deep and thought-provoking, maybe even juxtapose some examples to show the irony of it, throw in some jargon and at the end of the post appear as if I have a lexical range of a dictionary.

Valdecoxib; I need some of those for my inflamed nerve endings, because now thanks to EVERYTHING, I am losing it. So Mr. Derrick if you see me going a-wall or give statements like- “oh you must be as good as Miss Banks!!” – Yes that was on purpose, that was actually entertainment, and you should know your classes are doing great at keeping me sane. Now this is heavy compliment.

I (the soon becoming farcical clown) shall now admit that this ever growing sarcastic nature is the direct result of confiding into Chandler Bing whenever the stress strikes which by the way is not entirely a bad thing; in fact I love that I am ‘bless’ with the gift of sarcasm. Everyone can crack a joke, now can everyone be sarcastic and get away with it? NO! So that is something special for keepers.

Chandler Bing is a guru. He really is. How can he become so sarcastic and so charming all in one? May be that’s me. I am heavily attracted to Dr. House-he has an ego of a giant, and should be given an award for his sarcasm. No, I am really (quoting a friend) – strangely sick.

love,

strangely sick

Damage Control

2009-02-21T16:36:00.010+08:00

"..*&!!@~#$# !!! tumble log "

Here I am at Blogspot,
Needed to leave that tumble log,
Gave me too much problem, that I drop.
It wasn't really cool, dawg!

Today is dated twenty one,
All my ramblings re-posted as one.

So the dates might not be accurate,
Oh, I am truly sorry mate.

Now that comments are enable,
Do put yours and be an angle

Gosh I need a little drink,
A little Nescafe to keep me wink.

I really am horrendous with poems,
Surprise, surprise I keep on doing 'em.

So this is my new academic blog,

I'll rant and rant you'd wish I'd stop!

.chao.

Nineteen Now

2009-02-21T14:35:00.010+08:00

February rolls around again. It’s that time of the year again.

I love February. Not just because the sound that it makes when I say it (I think March, May and June sounds flat) but also because the feeling that I get when it comes. It’s hard to explain, but it’s the kind of feeling that you know, it’s going to be a good month. I hate November or September for that matter. I’ve always have this gloomy impression of it, then you have that song from Greenday about September and I thought, “Hey we all hate September don’t we! “

If you know me, you would know it’s obvious I’m being bias here. I’m a February baby, of course I love February. But in all fairness even in the past years, February has always been a tid bit more exciting than any other month. Honest.

On 16^th February exactly nineteen years ago, my mom went into labor, she was in too much pain, and so I decided to come out and face the world, put an end to her agony and make my dad glee in joy. Now nineteen years after, I know I still give her heartaches, and daddy, “I give you migraine don’t I?” Not so much of a bundle of joy after all. Nineteen is not long, but I am sure it was quite a period for them. I was never an easy child. Still am not but sure is trying to be.

Turning nineteen couldn’t have been any less perfect. It was surprisingly different, but the kind of different that I really love. The first birthday away from home was really one that will stick in my memory box for a life time. I can never thank my friends over here in college enough. They’ve done so much. In honest truth, I never in a million years would have expected anything from you folks, which made it so much more than what it was. Thank you for the prank(s), thank you for the cake(s), the Dinosaur sugar candy, the gifts, the chocolate bar and the wishes even. I have to give props for the prank part though – It was BRILLIANT! The acting was an Oscar awarding performance. I’ll leave out the details but this is one prank that sure is going to be hard to top off. It’s been wonderful. I’m throwing virtual hugs for everyone. The length that you folks would go to for this ‘crack head’ is amazing and I appreciate the effort. Pranks are serious business, I WOULD KNOW. They’re not just some trick; it requires a certain amount of creativity, precession and composure! I know how daunting it can be, so I really appreciate the effort.

*the dinosour sugar candy*

Growing up, birthdays was always a celebration back home. Not big ones though. But last year’s birthday is another memory that I’d carry for life. It was a nice little gathering by the beach with my close friends and lucky me, the night ended with fireworks which was of course not for me, but I pretended it was. Fireworks on a birthday, who wouldn’t want that? I was the birthday girl; I believed whatever that made me happy. It was a beginning for many things, things that I appreciate more so now.

Now birthdays are not so much about the gifts like when I was seven or eight. Nor is it about throwing a big huge party for everyone. It’s more subtle. I guess that’s part of growing up or maybe things just bore out after 18 birthdays.

Good gosh, I never gave much thought about being nineteen. I mean it didn’t feel any different when I was eighteen. But when I ponder about it long and hard enough, I AM ALREADY NINETEEN, and then I go a-wall and anxious thinking about how it’s going to be my last –teen year. It’s nothing to go big about; people turn nineteen all the time, but I sometimes feel that I should have done more, see more, experienced more- while I still can. I don’t want to be one of those sixty plus old granny seating in the park thinking about the things that she missed out, things that she dreamed but never really got the chance to live it out. It would be awful, it would be sad.

Nineteen years. I have had my fair share of triumph, defeat, humble winnings and everything in between. I can’t say I have learned nothing, it thought me everything that I know up till now. But I’m too young to boast and say “ I know what you mean, I know what you feel”. At nineteen I have a long road to trudge (hopefully), many more moments to live, many more feelings to feel , many more lessons to learn ( a lot more shopping to do, a range of shoes to put on- haha).

So here goes the birthday wish:

I wish I become less cranky, more patient, more rational.

I wish I become more mature, more reasonable.

I wish for more decent, good, happy days.

I wish for more things to smile and laugh hard about.

I wish to live and get pass college with minimal injuries.

I wish I had more energy and the strength to stay up till 4 in the morning, because yes my assignments aren’t getting any less and they aren’t anymore public holidays (bummer).

I wish I can multiply myself.

I wish for clarity. Yes that.

I wish I can develop a love for dictionary.

YAY ME. I AM NINETEEN.

p/s: HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY TO YOU TOO MR DERRICK.

Ignorant is/ain't Bliss

2009-02-21T13:46:00.000+08:00

”..let it be ” - John Lennon

Ignorance is bliss- and so some say. I used to wonder, why ignore? Why not address and issue and make a change. Why live a lie, why do we put on a mask and not confront? What is there to be so scared of about the truth? Sometimes we choose to let things be the way they are because everyone is happy just as it is. We are comfortable in the normalcy albeit if it’s wrong, we shiver to the bones if things start to change. We detest the idea of something new.

If you were to ask me, do I rather ignore or would I be bold in enough to face the gruesome truth? I would look at you in the eyes and you would understand, I myself don’t have an answer to that.

So far, I’ve had countless encounters with situations that just leave me at a dead end. Do I say it out loud, or do I just keep quiet and let things subside. I wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of being unhappy. I thought to myself –‘oh give it time, time heals right?’ .So why bother. But then again I’ve been in places where I just wish that people would start spurting out honesty, everyone to speak up their mind, where I just wish the other party would understand that I am not as fragile or am I as immature as they shallowly think I am to handle the ugly truth.

Sure we like to make believe that the world is a merry planet made up of candies and chocolates and everything is blissful and dandy. So tell me if it is, why is there babies lying dead in the streets of Gaza? Why is America still combating homeless issues? Why are there people still suffer the same suffering across the other continent? So then it hits us hard, the untainted perception about the world might be our own joke to laugh about. Behind closed doors we know for a fact the world is sick and twisted after all, things aren’t as simple they used to be. Then again I’m not saying it’s all dark and gloomy, maybe just 70 per cent of it. It’s like Ying and Yang, everything needs to be in balance, in equilibrium. How can there be good without evil or how evil comes when there’s good.

Just to be fair, I do believe some things are just better left unsaid. Situation forces us to “fabricate” or remain in painful silence. We oblige to the condition that we are in. A husband would only say that her newly wedded wife’s hair is perfect, even when it’s all dry and brittle. Wouldn’t he? I remembered a heartbreaking story that I read not too long ago, where lying was the only best thing left to do, it became almost perfect because a son couldn’t bear to reduce his old man to tears, or could he relive the pain of losing his only mother over and over again. I just think that I wouldn’t do justice to the author if I wrote my own interpretation of it here, because my vocabulary is rather limited and the after effect wouldn’t be the same. So here is a little piece of Days of My Father by Phillip Toledano;

My Mum died suddenly on September 4^th, 2006.

After she died, I realized how much she’d been shielding me from my father’s mental state. He doesn’t have Alzheimer’s, but he has no short-term memory, and is often lost.

I took him to my mother’s funeral, and to the burial, but when we got home, he’d ask me every 15-20 minutes where my mother was. I’d explain carefully that she had died, and we’d been to the funeral.

This was shocking news to him.

Why had no-one told him?

Why hadn’t I taken him to the funeral?

Why hadn’t he visited her in the hospital?

He had no memory of these events. After a while, I realized I couldn’t keep telling him that his wife died. He didn’t remember, and it was killing both of us, to re-live her death constantly.

I decided to tell him she’d gone to Paris, to take care of her brother, who was sick.

And that’s where she is now.

Put me in this man’s shoes, and I probably would do just the same.

Maybe John Lennon was right after all, but maybe also Mr. Barack Obama had a point. I don’t know maybe I’ll just keep dwelling on it and hopefully the decisions I choose to make would only bring me to the right turn J

.Chao .

p/s: Mr derrick, sorry I didn’t post this earlier, was having some connection problem – broadband are such rip-offs. I am bitter for the time being and yes as you say, we are the emo generation, aren’t we? Thus, you might sense the bitterness here.

One More Round

2009-02-21T13:20:00.005+08:00

Howdy there,

You know what’s not cool -me not having anything to write. The whole writers block syndrome is frustrating. I think I over analyze, that’s my problem. I go back and forth, and everything just remains as a draft. Oh well I shall stop this useless rambling and just get on with it.

College has been pretty hectic lately and it’s only the second week. Assignments and homework are piling high and me myself, I am not really the person you’d see getting her homework done a.s.a.p. Yes, I am that big time procrastinator who doesn’t really seem to have learned anything from previous experiences .Forgive me for being oblivious but my whole system seems to be designed as it is. Someone get me a repair man and fix me fast!! I need fixing!

Where do you read and study?

When it comes to reading and studying, I’d prefer to have one solid area and that would simply be my study table (okay it is the only table in the room so to sound smart I’ll just say it’s my “study table”). My windows are just right beside it, so I have sufficient light coming in. But ergh, heaven knows that my head screams in horror and I’ll be pulling my hair out like a mad lady when those Iranians up in A3 blast off their stereo to full volume. It’s like a concert of their own. You see I detest change. Detest might be a strong word to use, but I do hate the hassle of changing my routine. Then again, don’t get me wrong, I am not admitting I am boring and predictable either. When I am fixed on the idea, I stick by it and I don’t make a point to even try to be flexible. Same goes with my study table. I can only read and study on it, and nowhere else-PERIOD!. Not even the library. Not even in class. Not even on my bed. I’ve always have this mythical idea that my brain absorbs facts better when I am seating straight up, like as if it is in its right position and if I were to lay down, nothing can ever go in and I would eventually just doze off. Even back in high school, I’d end up doing my homework at home and those free times at school would just be wasted on gossips and pranks on my classmates. Oh yes, I am the one with the pranks back then. Good old days.

*the so-called study table*

What is the best time for you to read?

I find solitude when everyone else is far away in dreamland and the world falls into silent mode. I love reading and studying in the wee hours. When it’s just me and the dark night sky, occasionally the moon would be staring over. It is something that I have developed since I was in high school. It’s the perfect hours for me. Weird as it is, I sometimes would purposely wait for my roommate to go to sleep then only start reading- a habit I should try correcting. Talking about bad time management! But hey, everyone has a way of their own, and mine happens to be a tid bit eccentric. Don’t you think?

How long would you study without a break?

This is a hard one. It actually depends on how much I am cramming in. HAHA. If it was for an exam, a really important one for that matter, I can go on and on and on and not even stopping to catch my breath. My record was 8 hours. Absurd you’d say, no no this is fact! It was back in those spm days, and I was a crack head with anxiety attacks. One dirty little secret, sometimes even I go on not bathing. To me it was a waste of time, and I was trying to buy as much time as possible, if only there were 48 hours in a day. Time was never enough. It was ridiculous back then, also about the same time I developed a back problem as a result of seating too long. This pain of mine, it still comes and goes, and whenever it strikes, I’ll be weeping by the corner like a big baby, but it aches terribly. Now I usually limit myself to at least 2 or 3 hours of reading then I’ll stop to get some fresh air and even sometimes a short nap just so the brain gets a little rest. I just realized after sometime , that there is no point doing harm to the body. I used to think if I am feeling that much of an ache, I must be studying hard enough to guarantee me a decent result. Again, a very wrong concept, the naïve Atiqah used to have. It’s all about doing it smartly.

What type of distraction bother you the most?

I think having my laptop on the desk at all times is ONE HUGE DISTRACTION! I usually never shuts it off, only putting it in sleeping mode. Therefore, the opportunity is always wide open. When I get on the net for example, I can’t seem to pull myself away from it. It’s like and ultra magnet that keeps me glued to the screen. And then I have the 160 gigabyte hard drive full of downloaded movies and television shows. How can I say no to Gossip Girls or Lipstick Jungle or even House for that matter. His sarcasm is way more entertaining than 5 pages long of complex physics! Oh, I am not even done yet. Then you have your social network like Facebook and Friendster. As much as I hate the idea of updating it, I still religiously visit it. Isn’t it ironic? I’m also a junkie when it comes to photography and graphics. Sometimes I spend hours on Photoshop trying to get the perfect contrast out of a picture. I become so absorb in it that time seems to be in fast forward. So yes, my definite answer would be my evil laptop.

*the evil one*

On average, how many different assignments do you work on in one evening?

Do you one the honest answer or the fabricated one?

If I was being honest, it would be NONE! Nah kidding! I’d say I try to complete as much as I can. It actually pretty much depends on how long one assignment would take me to finish it. Some are extra hard, so I’d spent more time on it, leaving me less time for everything else. On average, I would say I try working on 2 to 3 assignments. My system is that, I complete a certain task and then move on to the next one. I’m not quite fond of the idea of doing things half way through or touching bits and pieces here and there. It’s like eating an ice cream and leaving the cone out. I feel at ease knowing that, I have successfully complete one, and would enjoy the satisfaction of it before delving into another.

What type of rewards might work for you?

Rewards- the one word I love apart from shopping, holidays and France! Again it depends. If I had been struggling with exam and intense studying for the week, the perfect reward would probably be good results, having something out from what I’ve been working really hard on. It is as if, all the effort was worthwhile. Having sometime to myself just to unwind, or probably a relaxed evening by the beach with my close friends where we would be talking about random things and then laughing our heads off or doing something really silly that just lifts my spirit would be a reward on its own. Just genuinely having a great time in the comfort of people that you have find a certain attachment to, or where you can afford to be stupid, or do things that only a crack head would do and still not look funny is more than enough for me. I am admitting that I am one materialistic person, I love physical things, but there are things in life that is worth more than money can ever buy. Those are the ones I call real rewards and it gets me pondering, these are the times that we live for, the one that reminds us to always be grateful to god for his blessings. You know what they say, an achievement is nothing if there is no one to share it with. (P/S: A shopping spree wouldn’t be too bad of a reward either: D)

I guess that sums it up. Fuih, that’s a relief, I thought I’ll never get this one done.

Adieu.

Numero Uno

2009-02-21T13:00:00.003+08:00

"hello there mate"

Years back, I used to loathed blogging. I was critical about it. I passed on judgments without reason. But of course being the hypocrite that I am and my self contradictory nature, I started a blog of my own, for mere pleasure, for futile entertainment. Secretly I enjoyed posting up my ramblings on the net, with little expectation on the feed-backs that I would get. I thought too often of a time “Hey, who would actually give a crap?” Surprise surprise, I had readers.

Blogging have never reached this much of a hype. There is a blogging-mania. At some point I think it has become so much apart of our culture that it is ridiculous. The whole idea of blogging was never foreign to me, my views unchained, my words unfiltered. To write a reflective journal on Friday nights might not be any different after all but to have it read the next day by my EALD lecturer, sure is one scary thought. I suppose this ought to do me good. Ma, would be so proud, she detest my frequent usage of vulgar words, she thinks it’s unladylike. She squinch in horror of my terrible grammar and my horrendous spelling.

So, I am 9231 but my parents call me Atiqah. I am the tall girl with bad posture. I like to think that I am simple and one easy person to please, sadly enough I am not. I demand so many things in life, sometimes I think someone should shake me hard. I make an effort on those tiny trivial things that makes life move and heave and rattle. I am self-deprecating but I try convincing myself that I am only human. I complicate simple things because I like to think that I’ve worked harder than everyone else and I deserve an ice cream. Sometimes I go random, and say things like ” I am a flower today”, so I draw pictures of myself with petals. The Beatles makes me sing. Shopping is yoga to me. Blogging is pilates.

I promise, I’ll live an interesting week so that I can write interesting post every Friday night (elements of fabrication and exaggeration might be inflicted) and not bore you on your weekends, Mr. Derrick. I’ll make extra effort on my spelling, and fret not, I too hate acronyms.