Two more days before I leave for college again.

I dunno why I have the jitters! I’ve done this twice in the past two years already!

I’m not anxious about going to college, I’m actually quite excited. I’ve been reading these discussion boards in which the new students ask questions like “What should I pack?” and “Is XYZ a good dorm?” And they remind me of when I first left for college.

This year is going to be pretty interesting, so in a way I can’t wait to go back to school. But it’s the leaving home that makes me feel a little melancholic.

This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I’m annoyingly sentimental and constantly attach emotions to everything.

You know, it’s kind of interesting how, before going away for college, I didn’t really have a clear idea of what “Home” was to me. I understood it only to the extent of how the dictionary defined the word. “Home” was my place of residence, my house, where my family takes shelter.

Since I started college, “Home” has taken on another level of meaning for me.

The word itself evokes ridiculously strong feelings in me. Happiness, excitement, warmth, and when I’m away, a bit of melancholy and a whole lot of longing.

Home is not just this double-story house in Petaling Jaya, not just the other 4 people in the Lim family, not just the endearingly loud high school friends. Not just the unique yet comfortably familiar concoction of english mixed with malay mixed with mandarin mixed with cantonese.

Not the lemak-laden food either. Not the “lah”s that take the place of full-stops, not the very very pretty baju kebaya, not the Star-spangled Banner rip-off with the yellow crescent and stars.

When someone mentions “Home”, I don’t think of any one of the above in particular.

Instead, “Home” reminds me of me.

I think of Malaysia, of course, but more like myself when I was/am in Malaysia. The childhood memories, the teenage experiences, the interactions with fellow Malaysians that make up who I’ve become.

I think of me speaking in broken cantonese to my family and recounting tales from college. I think of my mom asking me what kind of alcohol I drink, and what time I shower on a week night. I think of the entire family in the car at night, and my dad asking where we would like to go for dinner, and all everyone can come up with is “Anywhere”. I think of the insults that my high school friends throw around but that never offends anybody, and of the comfort and camaraderie that we share. I think of the malls around PJ and what I could get for what kind of price. I think of the food stall I would order from at Ming Tien food court. I think of being able to drive!!!!! A luxury I do not enjoy in college

Haihh if my life in Malaysia was black, then my life at college is WHITE like you cannot imagine!

The two worlds are so different that it’s hard to adjust the first few days.

The first time I talked to my college friend on Skype (while I was in Malaysia), she went, “Why are you speaking so differently?”

I told her it’s my Malaysian accent. It’s how Malaysians (proudly!) talk. My friend was actually very excited to hear it, because I’ve been telling people that Malaysians have a special way of talking, but no one has heard me speak Manglish before.

And then an hour into the conversation, she was like, “Your Malaysian accent is gone!!”

Which was completely true. I lose my Malaysian sing-song way of talking once I get back to school. I cannot help it la, I don’t do it on purpose, it changes on its own. I think when I hear people around me speak regular english, my way of speaking naturally changes to suit them.

Hahah I remember one time, I was telling Zihui about a very close friend of mine called “Fatemeh”. She’s from Iran, so I guess it’s their version of the Malaysian “Fatimah”. So we were both talking about this girl, and I would go “Fatemeh bla bla bla”, pronouncing it FAHT-uh-mah, the gwailoh way, the way everyone in college says it. And then Zihui would go, “Oh really, Fatemeh bla bla bla”, and pronouncing it the typical Malaysian way… fat-ee-MAH. (“fat” very low tone, “ee” a little higher, then “MAH” super loud and high-toned.)

LOL stress on different syllable. I dunno if that made sense to you though, but it was funny when we were talking.

Anyway. The point of this post, at least when I first started writing this, was to say that I’m feeling like I’m going to college for the first time — anxious about leaving home.

But of course this shall pass once I get to campus and see people again.

Anyhow. I have to go poop now.

Speaking of which, you know what is the irrational fear that I have when it comes to long flights?

I fear I will suddenly have the urge to poop. I haaaaaaaate airplane toilets. I hate peeing in them, and I FEAR I will one day be forced to poop in them.

Anyhow have to go bye!

WAH the scariest sh*t happened to me today!

I think, I could have died. (Uh, exaggerated or not I dunno la.)

People who’ve been passengers in my (mom’s) car would no doubt realize, that dull looking red Kancil that I drive is a real old clunker of a car.

I remember that time when a bunch of us went to the National Museum, and they had an exhibition of old cars, and there it was, a Proton Saga being exhibited amongst old, really ancient cars.

Back then I thought, “Wah good thing I don’t drive Saga. Very malu.”

In restrospect, I drive something that is more memalukan than an old Saga.

I drive an old Kancil.

The radio doesn’t work, the lock on the front passenger door is totally messed up (doesn’t come up/go down when it’s supposed to) (confuses friends who sit there), you step fully on the accelerator and instead of going “Vrooooom!“, it actually goes, “Eeee-kachung-kachung-eeee” or something weird like that.

Needless to say, it takes longer to accelerate, even with the pedal fully stepped on. Even worse when it comes to uphill slopes. I’d be thinking, “Hurry up hurry up hurry up!” Cars behind overtake only.

Plus, and this one’s a sure sign of Embarrassingly Old Cars, the windows have to be rolled down.

Yes, roll down that little handle thing.

Very very mafan when it comes to getting/putting in tickets in parking lots.

Oh, I’m veering off topic.

You know those overhead highway things, that have these concrete borders to prevent you from going off the edge and plunge right into Death?

The one I was on curves to the right (I hope I’m painting you an easy picture here), and at that time I was blanking out.

You know, your mind wasn’t on the road.

And I came, what, an inch from the concrete blocks? And I was driving straight.

Curved road + driving straight = barge right through concrete blocks! = DIE! (or accident la)

I came to just in time (any further and I’d totally have hit it!), steered sharply to the right, and OMGWTFBBQ big ass truck right beside me!

Got honked, steered left, but cannot la the road is turning right!, panic a bit, steered right, and went on my merry way.

Very un-drama here, but trust me it was scary as heck. You know that very millisecond when you realize you’re this close to hitting something large like a concrete block (and you know you’ll fall off and die if you do), and you’re doing 80 kmph on the highway, scary as heck. Then got truck somemore!

I have this fear of trailers / large vehicles. The other day something similar happened to Ling when she was driving, only it was less dangerous ’cause she was on flat, wide road, and I screamed, very unnecessarily loudly. Ling wasn’t even the least bit shook up la.

Oh by the way. This Kancil I drive does not have power steering. (Yes it is thaaaat ancient.)

It is difficult, driving a car without power steering. It it stiff, and you pretty much cannot drive it with one hand.

Now you know.

Fortunately, no one else was in the car with me.

Even more fortunately, my mom was not in the car with me.

She’d totally stop me from driving out any more. She is already very sien ’cause it seems to her that I am dominating her car.

I so wish I had a car of my own. One that is actually un-Old.

I have to wake up at 7 am to drop my mom off if I want to have her car for the day, then go out at 8 pm to pick her up.

You people who have your own cars, so lucky!

P/S. I don’t usually drive like that la. In fact I’ve never driven like that before. I was just thinking about Something Important today. Don’t boycott sitting in my car, okay?

Ya know what? I probably should clean my room.

If I had RM5 every time my mom tells me I’m the Messiest Girl She Knows, I’d have…. enough to buy a decent prom dress.

But if you tried asking her just how many teenage girls she knows, and how many whose rooms she has entered, she’d pretend to be too busy to hear you.

Anyway, I’m on it.

I started clearing out this cupboard that I had. There’s this huge pile of school stuff that I’ve collected throughout my schooling years.

After one schooling phase, I’d just chuck everything (report cards, school photos) in there and move on to the next phase.

Well, here I am, 9 months till the next phase (University here I come!), and till then I have no school to go to. (So technically, I’m no longer a “student”?)

So I started cleaning out the cupboard, and man oh man how much I’ve grown.

Schooling Year Number 1

That, me friends, is a photo of the FIRST ever class I was a part of. My classmates and I were all of 3 years old!

Apparently, you can never get kids to stay still long enough to take a good photo.

Spot me? (Second row, first one on the right!)

I was such a crybaby back then. My mom told me the teacher was very apprehensive about allowing me to go to the zoo on a class trip, which, of course, made me cry even more.

I got to go anyway. I remember we had KFC. Till now it’s hard to not associate zoos with KFC.

Schooling Year Number 4

The year I graduated from kindergarten. With graduation robes and mortarboards. Cool eh?

One of my kindergarten classmates was also doing SAM in Taylor’s. She used to be my best friend, I used to go to her house real often, then we’d break off lead from colour pencils, and we’d “cook” them in cups of water.

I probably attended no less than 5 of her birthday parties, ’cause she’d always invite me, even after we’ve moved on to primary school.

I don’t know if she even remembers me now.

Kindergarten phase over, moved on to primary school phase!

Schooling Year Number 10

I rummaged through the entire cupboard, but couldn’t find photos of my Standard 1 – 4 classes. So those are like, the Lost Schooling Years, or something. Like a Blank Page in my History Book.

Still, that was me, in Standard 6. A few of my then-classmates went to Catholic High, and a LOT of them went/go to Taylor’s. (Clicky for a better looky! You could probably recognize a lot of them from Taylor’s.)

That was when I was paaaaiiinnfully quiet. That was one thing Chuan Ling makes sure I never forget. (“You know that time I damn scared talk to you one you know!”)

Schooling Year Number 11

Hahah, I love this photo!

Canyousee canyousee? We all had weird hairstyles back then!

Look at mine! My then-signature Mushroom Hair!

Oh man, so funny la.

Form 1, by the way. I used to get SO excited when I was in primary school and I realized I was going on to secondary school.

Secondary school kids looked so adult. I wanted to be like them.

Huh, fat chance of me looking Adult. I mean, till now I still don’t look Adult.

Schooling Year Number 15

Final year of high school.

I grew up (somewhat),
wanted to be a doctor,
heard that a lot of people wanted to do SAM,
wondered why they’d even consider doing SAM (why SAM?! A-Level better!),
contemplated doing Form 6 (and International Baccalaureate),
and stayed in KL an entire week in isolation (to prepare for SPM).

And then -

Schooling Year Number 16

College class!

I changed subjects and switched class, then changed my mind and switched program, to eventually end up learning about the good and bad of science in the same four walls as these people.

(Good of science – sometimes it amazes you. The Creator must’ve had one heck of a time coordinating the universe like this.)

(Bad of science – uhh the failed papers and the desperate attempts of last-minute cramming.)

Phew! 16 years of schooling.

Can you imagine?

One year after the next, 16 back-to-back years!

How can you medicine-hopefuls tahan the thought of another 5 years of med school, then another dunno-how-many-years of specialized study?

Just thinking about it exhausts me.

But it has all been great fun.

The whining about exams, the copying of homework (“Don’t bulat-bulat copy ah! Change a bit here and there!”), the frantic attempts to hide Barang Larangan when there were rumours of spot checks.

The going out on the last day of exams to celebrate, the joy of bumping into a friend on school corridors, the deciding what to eat during breaks.

The best part, though, is the learning part.

I know I know, we hate exams and homework.

But when you look back and realize all these things you know that you didn’t know before, there’s a huuuge sense of satisfaction, plus you actually feel a lot smarter!

To be able to explain science stuff to people like your parents, ahhhhh nice!

Wouldn’t give it up for anything.

There ya go. My schooling journey.

Can’t wait for the next Phase to come along!

TOEFL today was shite.

No wait. TOEFL test location today was shite.

So there we were, all of us in one smallish computer room.

Somehow this girl and me managed to finish the reading and listening sections earlier than the rest. So we were allowed to have a 10-minute break.

Ten minutes over, we started on our speaking test.

Then, the rest of the room went on their breaks.

So what it meant was that while the girl and me recorded our answers, about 20 odd people were sitting around, observing us, looking at our screens and listening to our answers.

My thoughts -

1. I had 15 seconds to prepare my speech reply. They, having observed the both of us and read off our screens, had the entire break to prepare!

2. I was feeling damn self-conscious okay! Imagine, 20 people listening in on you and your reply! Kind of like giving a public speech, or something!

3. The invigilator came, stood next to me and listened in as well! I would have shoo-ed her off, if only I weren’t already recording my reply.

It was slightly pretty damn well unfair, but I didn’t mind it as much as the fact that by the time I went on to the latter parts of the test in which reading was required, the entire room started recording their answers!

How to concentrate?!

I remind you, it was a small room. You could hear someone talk from the other end of the room, even with your headphones on.

With 20 people simultaneously speaking extra loudly (having been told to do so by the invigilator), it was havoc.

How in the world can you read and comprehend that paragraph in front of you amidst all that chaos?

Plus, that countdown timer counting down the 45 seconds wasn’t helping either. I got very panicky.

When it got to the really long passage in the writing section, I figured, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

I just read out as loud as I could to myself to cover all the extra noise. Was practically shouting, I’d say.

So anyway. Naturally the girl and me finished our test earlier. At the room where we kept our belongings, she asked me how it was. I asked her back.

The first thing she said was, “I couldn’t concentrate!”

And I knew exactly what she meant.

She told me she had the TOEFL in Singapore before this, and they had their own private cubicles.

Compare that to today’s test location, where we were seated so close I could actually read the answers off the girl’s screen. Of course I didn’t la.

Oh man, RM857 in total paid, I hope I did well enough.

So, moral of the story is (and you really should remember this if you’re taking the TOEFL in the future), if you have a testing station that isn’t as isolated as you’d hoped, then never ever finish and have your break earlier than others.

Otherwise, while you’re recording, you’d have the entire room listening to you.
And while you’re reading, you’d have the entire room talking at the same time.

I’d whine about the mouse that doesn’t seem to register clicks until you’ve clicked for the gazillionth time, but I’m too lazy.
But yeah, the mouse doesn’t register clicks until I’ve clicked for the gazillionth time.

I remember trying to drag the answers into boxes, and the mouse was acting up again, and the timer was counting down the last 15 seconds!

I panicked like siao.

I tell you, that countdown timer managed to give me adrenalin rushes like no other roller coaster had.

Okay, enough whining. Choose your test location wisely. Bye!

I am pleased with myself. Well, kind of.

I mean, I’ve always wanted to do it, yeah, but I’ve also always been scaaaaaared.

It’s almost like where things start going wrong in a horror movie, where the hero gets cucuk-ed with large needles and has his blood sucked out. Enough blood to fill a bag somemore.

I donated blood!

They said you had to be at least 45kg to be a donor, so I got on the scale and the guy-in-charge told me I couldn’t donate.

I was very sick of being, um, rejected as a donor la. First time ’cause I pierced my ears a few months ago, second time ’cause I had a bit of a sore throat.

So what do you do when you really want to do it, but you’re 0.5kg under the required weight?

You jump a bit on the scale, of course.

So the needle was swaying left to right, and I went, “Boleh la. Tengok, saya 45kg.”

I am a genius.

Initially the nurse couldn’t find my vein, she’d keep hitting my hand, adjusting the pressure, and going, “Hmm?”, which freaked me out a little. I mean, I don’t want to have her poke around, looking for my vein.

Anyway.

It definitely feels good.

So good, in fact, that the bunch of us who donated were all super enthusiastic about doing it again (3 months later la).

Ying Ying looked at her blood donor booklet, which recorded the times you donated blood, and said in an ambitious kind of way, “I want to fill this book up.”

Yeah.

So you people reading this, go do it!

If you’re worried about the pain bit, believe me when I say, it does not hurt that much!

Just a slight sting when they give you the anaesthetics, and after that you wouldn’t feel a thing.

If you think I’m bulling you, well then at least believe the Look people halfway through the blood donation give their friends (who’re presumably trying to assess things first before going in themselves), the kind of Look that says, “No pain at all!”

And trust me, everyone has that Look.

If it does hurt, which it shouldn’t, I guarantee you, then at least you know, and you wouldn’t have to do it again. And, you wouldn’t have to say you never tried.

If it doesn’t hurt, well then now you know! You can start donating blood for as long as you’re capable.

And y’know, this is the easiest, and possibly one of the very few chances we have of doing something even remotely heroic.

GAHHHHH.

I just got off a call from New York. And I think I sounded like a Stupid Malaysian Kid.

For the first time ever, it was an interview that the person on the other end was not assessing me, neither was I being weighed off against a bunch of other people all vying for something or other.

It was supposed to be 15 minutes, but it ended up being half an hour long.

30 minutes of myself thinking, Gawd why can’t I answer questions like an matured 18-year-old should?

I sounded like a 12 year-old trying to sound like an adult.

Now we all know, Chooiyen cannot speak, she can only write a bit. Though I already found that out during my feeble attempt at debate, and writing doesn’t mean much because writings are basically just speech you had time to polish up.

At least, I did not use lah or meh or anything like that. Not even once!
But she was speaking perfect English, ang moh slang and all, naturally I got nervous.

Gosh I embarrassed myself. Worse still, it was a recorded 30-minute self-embarrassing act.

* * * * *

Here is a bit of Very Interesting Fact Regarding G10.

I did a survey on my classmates on their opinions on freedom of expression.

65% of them feel that artists, musicians and speakers in public shouldn’t be allowed to talk freely. Music and art should not contain offensive material.

Now I wonder if they actually listen to rap and hop-hop, in which bling-blings and booze and partying and sex are the way to go.

Even more interesting, 35% agree that if there was only ONE religion practised, if only one religion was allowed, then there’d be more peace within the country.

When I had that question thrown in, I had expected everyone to disagree. I mean, only ONE religion? Ridiculous notion.

But now when you think about it, it makes a lot of sense.

Hmmm.

* * * * *

I was just told last week that I suffer from a Weird Inferiority Complex.

Weird thing to hear from someone who’s known me only this year.

“You need to learn how to sell yourself! If like you lidat, how you gonna win in anything?”

What she doesn’t know is, sometimes it’s more accurately called Pretending To Be Humble.

* * * * *

Oh my gosh I just found out, college mates found my blog!

Paige, stop playing with your laptop and start studying!

Oh, and, jangan kembang yea =)

Throughout the four days in Singapore, there were a few overused phrases, one of them being “Only in Singapore, never in Malaysia!” (and another one being, “Jiu Hwei! Until which station?“)

Come back really kena cultural shock lah, the elevators there move faster, the cars actually stop for you, the toilets aren’t just clean, they generally look pretty funky too. And the people never get irritated when you ask for directions.

Anyway. We spent all our nights walking along Orchard Road, and the Christmas decorations were beautiful.

I remember walking past a seemingly ugly-looking structure, and one of the guys went, “What the hell is that? So damn ugly.”

That was in the day. We came back at night, and that “ugly-looking sturcture” had morphed itself into a beautiful, beautiful christmas tree fountain!

I don’t remember seeing Christmas decorations that nice in Bintang Walk, but maybe they’ve bucked up this year. I assume I’ll be making endless comparisons when I’m there later.

(But make no mistake, I love KL. Going to stay in KL with my parents is usually a bit like going on a walk-fest. We walk everywhere, i.e. to the best beef ball noodle stall by the most rundown building you can imagine.)

So anyway, my family would probably go visit Singapore soon, which I cannot join because I have a lot of things to do.

And, my family would be going off to China in January, which I cannot go because I’ll be in Kem Geo Kosmo (Spam so likes the word, hor?).

* * * * *

AAH! My brother’s coming home next week!

Excitement. Anticipation. I-Can’t-Wait-ness!

It’s sad ’cause my time with him is cut real short, all because I’ve got to leave for National Service on the first of January, so I’m still having doubts about that after-Christmas Pangkor trip.

Coupled with the fact that I’ve not told my parents about it yet, I’ve got a good mind to just forgo it.
The only thing stopping me is my conscience. I told them I’d go, you know?

I heard my brother has gotten quite fat gained quite a bit of weight while being in Hawaii, and the guy refused to take a picture of himself when I asked him to, so we’ll just have to wait and see just how fat much weight he has gained.

But seeing that he’s always been quite the monster eater (as in he eats monster quantities of food, not taht he eats monsters), I wouldn’t be surprised if he has become pretty blimpy.

Oooh yes, he’s coming back!

* * * * *

There’s been an inexplicable surge in visitors of late, which is weird ’cause I have not been updating at all.

But the tagboards so awfully lonely lahh.

Ahah, if you’re here looking for prom photos or anything, I bet you’re disappointed, ’cause I did not go.
Wrong place to go to if you want photos anyway. That’s why people don’t find this blog interesting. I don’t have photos =(

If you’re here because you think I’ve been blogging lately, you clearly do not know me well.

If you’re here by accident and are not even from Catholic High, well then, nevermind.

* * * * *

Before I sign off, I must report that as a result of the Singapore trip, I -

- can now ride standing up on my bike!

- have learned to play Cho Dai Di! (Luuu, are you proud of me now? Hahah)

- have touched stingrays, starfishes and some other stuff I cannot identify

- learned that unless you’re a pro biker, doing ‘aerodynamics’ is just about complete bullsh*t

- have touched something

- am seeing WW2 in a whole new light

- dislike shopping (always have, always will)

* * * * *

Christmas is almost here!

They’re having a Christmas party, with turkeys and decoration and all – the works! (P’haps the best part would be my bro joining us in this one!)

I think we need a class gathering cum Christmas party.

We could have it at the house of the-guy-whose-house-is-so-nice-but-is-SO-self-conscious, and whose-mom-asked-him-to-invite-his-friends-over-for-a-party-to-which-he-replied-that-he-had-no-friends.

Or we could just be lazy and meet up at a restaurant in a mall again.

Anyway, signing off!

(An early Merry Christmas! Remember, I was the first one with the greeting!)

So we arrived back in Malaysia around 10.30 pm yesterday.

I’d blog about the trip now, but I’ll just wait till I get the photos from the others first.

Anyway.

We were in Orchard Road yesterday, walking to Takashimaya for lunch, when we saw a girl and a guy holding up signs, offering free hugs.

Which reminded me of the Free Hugs Campaign YouTube video.

Initially we just walked off, but then we turned back and figured we’d go for a hug. A group hug.

A couple of stupid jokes were told, we laughed, then we walked off.

Only, I stopped, walked back to where she was and did a solo hug with her.

We wished each other an early ‘Merry Christmas’, and I left.

I have no idea why, I’ve been thinking about this ever since I’ve returned.

So I went online, googled the Free Hugs Campaign, went into this forum, and read this post written by someone who recieved hugs “from a guy and a girl in Orchard Road”.

I think it’s pretty amazing, this Free Hugs thing.

Think it’d be nice to do it in Bintang Walk?

Gawd, I used a total of Rm75 this week.

And I owe people money.

I’m supposed to go out and get a birthday present for a friend today, I know exactly what she wants, and it ain’t cheap.

I’ve got all these money going out, but none coming in.

Sigh, if you’ve borrowed money from me, and I’ve forgotten about it, and you’re reading this, return the money, okay? (Keeping fingers crossed.)

* * * * *

It was wonderful, I pretty much achieved my goal, which was to visit every stall/exibition in school.
It would be pretty crazy to not visit them, ’cause they’re all real interesting, and besides, they’re not gonna be there, ever again. Unless you live another 50 years, and return to CHS.

So I went around with my sister, yeah, and we watched a rat dissection / got a henna tattoo thing / waitted in line for the haunted house but figured there were just too many people.

I wasn’t kidding when I said I had no money. My sister had to go make her friend return her Rm10, just so we could get that henna thing.
Pretty stupid really, but hey, this’ll be the only time we’re allowed to have a tattoo-like thing in school.

My mom’s reaction to them, “Aiyoh! Sai mm lat ga! Teacher tai dou dim hou?!”
You translate yourself la.

You know, the Sejarah society’s exibition deserve a special mention. They had this almost life-sized sarcophagus thing, complete with this corpse inside.
They also erected this really tall thing on one side of the room, and it had all these egyptian wordings carved onto it.
The wonderful thing was, they were all made from paper-mache, but they looked so real. Wonderful.

It was great, that the LKT stall had an endless stream of customers. I mean, people were coming in non-stop, yeah, so it would be pretty safe to say, they did a very, very good job.
They could’ve hiked up the price a bit, though, ’cause their prices were pretty cheap, and ’cause they were that much in demand.

There were a few weird stalls, like the PTA’s, that were selling watermelons.
I walked one round, two rounds, three rounds, all at least an hour in between, and by the third round, the watermelons looked… like it never moved. There were this much watermelons when I left, there were this much watermelons when I came once more.

They could’ve sold brocolli, and bussiness would probably have been the same.

There were also a few rip-offish stalls, that sold food that were pretty much yuck.

I took my parents to the chemistry lab, to check out a few of my friends’ experiments thing. We checked out Lu and friends’ volcano.
The first time we went, Linda told us to wait till 12.30pm, which was another 5 minutes. So we went ahead and looked at the other experiments, and when we returned later, the S3′s were ready.
My mom waited while they poured this mixture thing into the volcano.
My mom waited while the volcano got ready to puke volcanic lava.
And just as something was about to pour from the volcano’s opening, her cellphone rang. By the time she finished talking, the volcano was done.
Talk about bad timing.

Anyway, it was a call for her to return to her office, which was a bummer. My parents left then, so I was left with my sister.

The whole ‘being-poor’ thing really hit us big when we wanted to get this mummy doll trinket thing. It costed Rm2.50 each, and we both wanted one, so we kind of took out the money we had, counted them, took aside money we needed for transport home, took aside emergency money, and figured that… we could only afford one.
Oh, how bitter being penny-less.

So we left school at about 3.30, and at the end of the day, I had Rm3.00 left in my pocket.
‘Twas just after it was too late to go back to school that I realized, I could’ve gotten another mummy-doll trinket.

But the most wonderful thing was, it was July 1st, which means a new month, which in turn means gettin’ ALLOWANCE, baby!

* * * * *

You know why my sister had no money with her on saturday?

Because she just spent a cool Rm89.90 on My Chemical Romance’s DVD. ‘Life on the murder scene’ or something.

She’s so crazy over them, she made my brother buy MCR’s first album in the US and air mail it over to us, all because Malaysian music stores does not stock up on that album.

I don’t see what’s so special about that DVD, I mean, even the lead singer didn’t seem to take it very seriously. They were shooting their video diary, and the guy was talking to the camera while lighting a cigerette / rubbing his eyes non-stop / taking large swigs of F&N right from the bottle / sratching his out-of-bed hair / extremely slouched on the couch.
If people were shooting me, and it would be on DVD, where it’d be watched over and over, I’d at least make sure I looked presentable.

Well, at least, she no longer listens to Hilary Duff. Eurgh.

* * * * *

My dad drove us to the Curve for dinner last night, because we wanted to try out that Japanese restaurant, but while waiting in line, we suddenly realized we have had enough sushi while in school.

So we went to this italian-ish cafe.

And I had the most amazing smoked salmon cream pasta. I forgot my manners, ’cause it was good, and went ahead and licked the leftover cream and small salmon flakes. Lovely!

What is the most delicious fish if it isn’t salmon?