Can't be undone

I supposed after making a big hoohah about it, I should follow through.

Right. This is difficult to write. So here goes.

My so-called parents went for their little delightful spot of European sun on May 29th, I got the text message the day after. The date is important to the flow of what happened. So it took me bout 5 days to come to terms with it and be all sad. The thing is, ever since I came to Australia I have not cried at all for homesickness or loneliness. I know some people who went into some sort of funk while they are here and have super emo FB status updates about “Boo hoo I wanna be back home in Malaysia”. I never had any of those. The first time that I ever cried in Australia was 5 days after I realized what my parents did to me. I’m not a big crier, I detest it. I think girls who cry are weak pansies and should be smack silly. That being said, my parents have rendered me to that weakling pansy that should have been smack silly. Multiple times at that.

The thing is my parents and I, we speak on Skype, before this anyways, about like 4 or 5 times a week. Sometimes hour long conversations, sometimes a 2 minute thing that goes like “Mom I can’t talk to you now cause Glee is on”. That kinda thing. Right after the text message from my dad, they didn’t even text or call me from their little lovely European getaway. First you lie to me, then you didn’t even acknowledge my existence? Thumbs up on parenting there. It was like they know they fucked up and they were running away from it.

Then on the 11th to the 21st of June my cousin came over for a visit. I mean that’s a long holiday and I was basically very busy and tired taking her around Brisbane and the Gold Coast. At this point, there were still not a beep from my parents as they frolic around in the European sun. I was feeling better by this time cause I was having so much fun with my cousin here. We’re very close, me and her. She’s one year older and we practically grew up together so it was really, really fun. That was until I mentioned what my parents did and she went all wide-eyed and went;

“Holy shit. You didn’t know that they were going for holiday in Germany with your sister? Really? My family and I know since March dude.”

The. Fuck.

And then just to fucking rub it in, I went on Facebook and the first thing I saw on my homepage was my sister’s status update. “Oh just got back home to Finland! So much fun with mom and dad in Germany” or some bullshit along that line. See, initially I wasn’t even upset with my sister. Parents have a tendency to fuck things over between their own kids but ohmyfuckinggawd, that shit hurts. And it pissed me off….and then it hurts some more. Again, it’s not the Europe thing. It’s the deceitful sneaking about. Put yourself in my place. Living abroad alone, parents fucking withheld information from you and apparently the whole fucking world knows about it BUT you, the fucking family member itself. Put yourself in my place and see if your heart doesn’t feel like its being stabbed again and again with a jagged dagger forged of ice.


So I reacted. Not very gracefully. I blocked my sister from my Facebook. Then I went onto Skype and blocked both her and my mom, as well as on YM. I figure they been at it since May 29th and its like fucking June something and neither of them have made any contact with me. So fuck it.

My cousin left Australia on the 21st and so did my parents, from Finland. And then suddenly, when they no longer frolicking around in the European sun, memory came back-a-knockin and they were like “Omigawd, don’t we have another kid in Australia?” Suddenly my dad is sending me text messages of feigned concern:

“Oh you mother said to make sure wear thick clothes so that you won’t get sick cause its winter there now right?”

“Have you eaten yet Sweetie?”

“Your mom and I were wondering if you be on Skype today?”

“Where are you? Are you okay? Why haven’t you been answering?”

“CD, are you okay? Where are you?”

By this time there were 5 times text messages a day and twice the number of calls. You see, at this point I was plain ignoring their message and I auto reject any international call made to my phone. To quote Sonia; “Wow, hardcore”. My parents thought they know me so well that they assumed they have to lie to me or else I throw a bitch fit. Well then, if they know me so well that they should have know that I have always been a vindictive bitch. They withheld information. I withheld information. Perhaps it’s genetic. We should look into making it a family business venture.

At this point I was ignoring them for about 10 days until my dad sent me a text message that was scary as hell:

“Are you okay? I am getting a plane ticket and sending your mother there.”

FUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!!! FUUUUUUCCCCCCCKKK!!

Fucking hell that was scary okay. I felt like I could have died on the spot. I went into full panic mode. I mean the fuck, I don’t want to wake up and my mom is there standing at my fucking doorstep. Are you fucking insane? I went into full panic mode. First shit I did was hid my bunny in a safe place. And then I fucking told my housemate to move the house’s minibar into his room. People would get their asses kick if my mom would even know the existence of a fucking minibar in the house okay. And then don’t get me started on all the other shit that I have and will not discuss on this blog. Fuck!

But still, I had to play cool. Waited for like a couple of hours. And then I sent this message:

“I’m fine. No need to care. Been busy. I’m going to sleep.”

Very curt. My dad called, auto reject. I didn’t call back.

But that wasn’t enough, I’m still angry. You see when I come here my dad gave me a credit card, to be used only in emergency. The first thing I wanted to do was to go shopping and max out the card but I figure that would not serve my purpose. That would just highlight how fucking immature I am. But I’m pissed. I need to hurt them. So I figured out what could hurt them financially, but won’t let me come across as immature. It somehow had to be a “mature” form of spending. Going to Harbour Town and cleaning out Nine West is not a form of “mature” spending. What could be it then? And then I got it. Since last year I have been taking 3 sets of boxing class. I’m already at the third level. I enjoy the classes, but I always wanted private, one-on-one lessons. However those are too expensive and I always figure to myself “I’m sure the classes are just as good as the private ones. And it’s expensive.” But since they pissed me off……….I went and enrolled myself for an 8 pack of private boxing classes that happened to be…….expensive. It’s spending, but its “mature” spending.


Do I need it? No.
Is it expensive? Hell yeah.
Does it make me come across as immature? No. Cause its self-defence and exercise, and that ladies and gentlemen is always a good combo and a completely “mature” form of spending.

WIN for me.

And then about like, 9 days ago my brother text me and told me that he’s gonna call and answer the phone already. At this point, he is the only one left that I am not pissed off so I answered his call. It was like an hour long call where he was like “I totally told them to tell you but they wouldn’t listen to me.” “You know how they are.” “I know this shit would hit the fan, bigtime.” “Talk to them, what they did was wrong but they’re still your parents.” Bla bla bla. Reverse psychology galore. I figure they, they being the deceitful and treacherous ones, must have been pretty desperate as to get my bro to call and reverse psychology me.

They sent a middle man.


So to be completely anti-climatic, I called my parents about 3 days later and we talked. Germany was not mentioned. It never happened. In fact, the country of Germany doesn’t even exist. They didn’t apologize. I didn’t mention it on the phone. The last thing I wanted to do was to pull out the hurt and break down over the phone. So we spoke. It was tense and forced and all that good feelings of talking to your far-away parents were missing. Since then I had another 10 minutes phone convo with them, and another maybe… 10mins mins Skype conversation with them. When my dad called to speak, I told him I can’t cause I’m running for the bus when I am in fact at home watching Hung.


I don’t get on Skype anymore. My Skype account is all but dead. I reply their messages in short sentences. I’m always “tired” when we talk on the phone. Or running for the bus. Or cooking. Or anything else that involve me not-talking-on-the-phone. Call me a Drama Queen, cause I am but I no longer want to share my life with them. I did and I wanted to two months ago but I no longer do anymore. Things will never be the same again between us. I know this. They know this.

And it doesn’t change a damn thing.

Healed

I’ve been gone a long time.

I’ve been busy. I’ve been out and about. I’ve been cooped out in my room doing assignment. I’ve been researching. But most of all…….I’ve been licking my wounds.

I know……….it’s been awhile and to tell you the truth, I needed all that time. I mean, people, I have to deal with the thought of me being so revolting that I actually made a dude….gay.

It is not a good feeling. One I wouldn’t even wish on those I venomously hate. No one. That’s how bad of a feeling it is. Was.

I tried to play it down. Make a joke out of it. Made a shitload of dick jokes out of it specifically but when I step back and examine the issue like an adult; I have to admit to myself that it was a blow. A huge one to my ego, to my vanity, to my sense of worth as a woman……..I mean, the fuck? I am so repulsive that I turned a guy gay?

Of course gay men reading this would go “Oh huney, its not you. We always have been gay. Its just nature”. Of course, but it’s never a good feeling to know that you are the last one, the last final straw for him, that shoved him out of the closet. To entertain the idea that you are that revolting that this would have happen to you.

I’m over it now. I took my sweet time at it of course; it’s just something big that I had to deal with at my own time. But I’m back now and ladies and gentlemen…..and it’s back to regular scheduled bitchings from now on.

Stay tuned. Bitches.

This day, 20-something years ago...

You know, when I was a kid.....I can't wait to grow older and become an adult. Now that I'm an adult..............this shit sucks ass man.

No, no "Happy Birthdays" bitches. Ain't nothing happy about growing old. Tomorrow after sending in my assignments, I'm gonna go out and get my first anti-aging cream. And more black eyeliners considering that I'm so fucking emo now. After that I will go out and live my life fully cause my days are numbered. The thing is......I would probably kill myself when I hit 30. So now is the time to live out loud.

Le sigh.

So enjoy your day. I'm gonna go sit in a secluded, dark corner of a coffee shop somewhere and reminisce of days gone by while sipping black coffee with tears trickling down my face. Then I will go to a museum and absorb the culture and art that Australia have to offer. Cause even while being emo, I still have an artsy-fartsy-pretentious-snob reputation to maintain. And what's better then the richness of art on the very day that I am being reminded…..once again, of my fleeting youth and ultimately; my mortality?

It’ll be like a scene from a Godard movie. Only you know…..not French.

And then come Friday, when all my friends have finished their exams and send in their assignments, we’re gonna take a one hour drive to the best strip club in the state and have a stripper give me a lapdance. Cause you see, lapdances are one of the things old people like me could enjoy.

So suck on that, younger people who are reading this blog. Suck on that.

And the emo-ness goes on..

This post was written in response to this.

************

I’ve started this blog as a class assignment. It involved into something more.

I am no longer blogging for me. I am blogging for you.

Your validation means a lot to me. It’s like a drug I cannot quit. As an aspiring writer, I am thirsty for validations. Validations from faceless strangers to tell me “Yes, CD, you’re good.” “Yes CD, you’re entertaining.” “Yes CD, you might just have what it takes to not end up living in a box of this whole journalism thing that you are doing.”

But here’s the thing…I write cause I want to. I write cause I like it. I write for me and not for your validations. I have forgotten that somewhere along the way.

With that, blog commenting is now completely disable. Dramatic Musings will stay…sans the comment box.

Read. Enjoy. Hate. Judge.

You have the option to email me….but would you really?

Meh

My birthday is in 16 days.

16 more days till I become old.

16 more days till youth is just a passing memory.

16 more days to realize that despite being old like a motherfucker; I have not achieved anything spectacular in all this time.

Invisible

I have not cured cancer. I have not won Olympic medals. I have not have hot kinky sex with Hugh Dancy. I have not scaled the tallest building in the world. I have not fallen head over heels in love. I have not have the balls to admit to people around me that I am a feminist. I have not rallied against oppression. I have not fought for freedom for POWs. I have not done so many things.

The last 20 something years have been a waste. A waste. 

16 more days to go and chances are I am not going to change the world in any way.

Fuck this. I'm depressed.

No more post till I'm over being depressed. Or until I get some Prozacs.

Fool me once...shame on you

Remember when I wanted to be a “playa” and dated 2 guys at the same time? Yeah….remember that?


Yeah……that blew up in my face.


Bigtime bitches. Bigtime.


So here is the story. The Lieutenant would not be part of it. Long story short? He just wanted to fuck me. I do not want to fuck him. The end.


I mean he was hot and all….but nah. Despite all the kinky, sex talks on this blog….the Constantly Dramatic One is not that kind of girl. I don’t have sex/boink/bang/sleep with/fornicate with men for fun. It’s long term relationship or nothing at all. So I dump his horny ass as soon as he started putting the pressure on me. I was like “What the fuck, buttmunch? Put some lotion on it and leave me the fuck alone.”


Okay, I might not have said those exact words. I kinda said “It’s not me. It’s your horny ass. But with some rehab, maybe we could be friends afterwards ya?”


Okay, I did not say that either.


Point is, The Lieutenant and I? It did not happen. It would not have happen. Cause he was just my plaything. I kept him around for the kicks…and the attention. Other then that, nothing really. Cause when everything have been said and done…it has always been Geek Boy from the beginning. It always has.


Until that blew up in my motherfucking face.


So remember how I had like this wonderful first date with him? Full of cuddling and unspoken frustrations accumulated over the months when we pretended to be only friends and nothing more when in truth…we have never been only friends. There has always been something there. Or perhaps it was just me, confusing reality with fantasy. Wanting it to be so much like the books I’ve read and the tales I used to write of lost love and unspoken desires during my teenage emo years. And sometimes still do.


So the date was on that Tuesday. During the date I’ve asked him why it took him so long to ask me out but he kept quite. So I dropped it. Then that night he texted me. I can’t remember what he wrote exactly but it sounded kinda like this


“Even though I really like you and I feel that you do like me too….its still hard for me to ask you out cause I have no real self confidence to begin with. So that’s why it tok me this long. But I’m glad I did though. I had a great time with you today.”


Or some shit like that. The actual part that I actually remember was the self-confidence thing. Then we texted for a while and that was that. The next day, he didn’t call. So I was like, okay…maybe he is playing it cool. The day after that, nothing. So I told myself, maybe it’s a guy thing. Maybe it’s this. Maybe it’s that. Bla bla bla. However by Friday when I did not hear anything from him, I was flat out agitated. I mean it was bullshit. We had a great time. We’ve cuddled bitches! What the fuck was goin on? Then, I called him. It was that Friday night and I really wanted to know so I was like “Fuck all. I’m gonna call him.” Which I did.


You know how it takes like oh….I dunno 10 rings before the phone goes into voicemail? Yeah….guess what? When I called him that night, it rang like twice and it went straight to inbox. Yeah…..fucker rejected my phone call. It was….well for lack of a better word: unbelievable. By this time I do not have to tell you guys that I was all kinds of messed up. I was upset and confused….I was like “Was it me? Did I say something wrong? Did I scare him? OMFG it’s me.” Self doubt is not something I’m prone to do but somehow he was making me do that. And it sucked so much donkey balls.

Then after much consultation from my girlfriends, both in Aussie and in Malaysia, I decided that the best way to deal with this fucking MIA shit he is pulling after the first date is to call him again. So I did. On Saturday morning. I need to know what happened. I have prepared for it to be rejected again and to leave like a non-threatening, non-pathetic voice message when the unpredictable happened: He fucking answered the phone. So I was like playing it cool.


“Oh hey, how are you?
“I’m good.
“So um like, are you sick or something?
“What? No? I can’t speak right now. The game is going to begin in like 10 mins.
“What game?
“My soccer game. I’ll call you back.”


I forgot that he plays soccer/football (depends on which side of the world you come from) on Saturday mornings. So I was like “Oh okay, he’ll call back.” Right? Riiiight? Of course he will.


I was such a goddamn fool.


So I worked on my assignment, did the laundry, vacuumed the floor…all with the phone by a hand’s reach. Waiting, waiting….waiting. Somehow the phone had become my enemy. The longer it doesn’t ring, the more I despise it. At this moment I was sad and confused and hopeful but by the time 7pm roll around and I’m sure that he isn’t gonna call, all that shit turned to full on rage.

Who the fuck does he think he is? What does he think he’s playing here? It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that I got played. Either way you cut it: I got played. I got played by a fucking geek. So now I’m pissed. I’m done feeling sorry of myself. I’m done thinking its all my fault. Fucker have a problem and I intend to let him know it too. So I called him again that night, twice. This time I wasn’t worried that I would come across as desperate and/or pathetic. This time I just wanna yell at him and to shove it up his ass. But of course, he did not answered his phone.

Motherfucker.

I was left fuming with no outlet. I wanted to wring his neck. Fucking run him over with a truck. Just fucking kill him. I wanted him to die. But he’s not answering his phone. He left me hangin. Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. On hindsight, I’m glad that he did not answer his phone cause revenge is a dish best serve cold and that’s precisely what I did.


I know that whatever happened I will see him the next Saturday. Cause we have an exam together. I know. I also know that the best revenge when it comes to this is to look as good as possible and let him know “Yeah…you see all this? Yeah. You ain’t gonna have this.” So Saturday came and I had formulated a plan. The final exam carried only 30% of the class mark; I have already gotten a credit for that class without the exam so I’m all set. It was a fucking exam. My usual exam ensemble consists of jeans, flip flops and a hoodie. Not that day though.

That day I put on this maroon dress that I look fantastic in, 3 inch high-boots and a cardigan. I showed no skin except for the space where my dress ends and my boots begin. Very simple, yet fetching. I’m keeping it classy. Now I know for a fact that I look good. You don’t plan on an outfit a fucking week and not come out looking good.


The exam was 2.30pm. I know, him being a geek would be there early. Like an hour earlier in the waiting hall. So I had to come later and I have to make an entrance. Which I did. I only get into the waiting hall round 2.10ish. I went straight to my friends but I took my time at it. He was in the hall, and I want him to see me. Drink it all in bitch, cause you never gonna have it. Then I sat down with my friends and all the while I felt someone looking at me and I turned around and he was looking at me. With this hopeful and kinda scared look. Then he smiled. I did not smiled back, I did not gave him a dirty look….I look through him and looked away. It’s like I did not know him. He’s too low to be even worth one of my dirty looks. Fucker looked way scared at this point, I can assure you that.

Then the course convenor called the students in and I went in first. Now when you enter the exam hall, you are required to fill in the front seats. I know that if I were to go in first, he would wait later to go in cause he is avoiding me. I know that when I sit in front, he would be looking at me and not the other way around. Which is the plan. Then before each exam starts, the course convenor would ask if everybody is sure they have their phone off. Those who do not; have 2 minutes to do so. Now I know that I have offed my phone. I know this. But the fact is I was sitting 3rd row from the front. He was somewhere at the back. So I stood up, took of my cardi- to show off how low cut the dress is at the back- and then proceed to strut to the other end of the room to pretend to check on my phone. I know he was looking. The plan is for him to see me. 100% visibility. Not the other way around.

Mission accomplished.


I checked my phone right after I ended the exam. And it was no shocker that he texted me. Two messages.

1) I hope you did great in the test.
2) I’m sorry I didn’t call back. I was really busy. I just realize that I am way behind my studies! I know you’ll be mad but I’m gonna try anyway.


Seriously, what fuckery is that? “I’m busy?” You motherfucking piece of shit. You have time to wake up at 7 in the fucking morning to go play soccer on a fucking Saturday and you have no time to fucking text me or call me back? You have time to eat and sleep and you have no time to fucking text or call me back? You have time to fucking take a dump and you have no time to fucking text or call me back?


Buuulshit.


Bish plz. As if you were studying 24/7 that you couldn’t possibly tear yourself away from the fucking text book and fucking pick up the phone and just fucking tell me that you can’t talk cause you’re busy. Okay, bitch? I dunno what the fuck his issues is, but somehow it became mine. With that final text I decided that I’ve won. This time, I’m the one that gonna ignore him. I planned it all. And I planned it well.


What I did not plan was for him to be waiting for me outside the exam hall. I was expecting for the text messages or maybe a phone call but not him waiting for me. That took me by surprise. He was waiting for me and he has this hopeful look on his face. I should have acted nonchalant, but because that took me off guard I kinda gave him a weak smile and kept on walking. I did not walk towards him but away- towards the busway. And he walked with me all the while he was going on and on about how busy he was and that he was sorry and that he knows that I’m mad with him…..but I kept on walking. I did not say anything. I was just thinking how ironic it was that we were walking the same path we walked so many times together, when we had fun, when we flirted, when he carried my books and to this.


To this bullshit.


I don’t really remember what he said, but I wasn’t really listening. I was busy being sad and angry at the same time when we reached the busway. I stopped walking therefore he did too. I looked at him and saw the reason why I liked him so much. Even after all that, he’s still very attractive to me and I said….and I’m not proud of it and I did not planned it….it just came out. I said….

“Please never ever speak to me again. And no, let’s not stay friends either.”


Harsh? I know.
Did I plan it? No.
Did it hurt him? Yes, it did.
Did it hurt me? Even more so.


I didn’t realize how hurt I really was until I said that. And then I walked away. He didn’t come after me. Would you after that? He did call me that night. Calls which I rejected- just to let him have a taste of how it feels. And 2 days later I left for Malaysia. I deleted and blocked him on MSN and Facebook. I deleted all his number and messages on my phone. I don’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.

I went back to Malaysia and then to Finland and I got my head cleared. I deserve better. I don’t know what the fuck his deal was but I deserve better then to be played like that. It wasn’t like we were together. It was just a bullshit phase in my life. I got back in Aussie, moved into a new place and I figured that I’ll start this sem fresh.


Then 2 nights ago, he called.


I didn't know that it was him till I answered the phone. I’ve deleted his number and I didn’t memorize it. We talked, he ask me how I was. How did I do for the last sem. How was the holiday. And then he asked if I can meet him this coming Tuesday. I figured that we are both adults, I can bury the hatchet. So I said okay, I’ll see him on Tuesday. It wasn’t until I put the down the phone did I realize how bad of an idea this.

I mean seriously. I thought I was over this but the fact that all I could think of right now is how much I want to slap him when I see him pretty much shows that I am not ready for this. It’s either slap him or push him into incoming traffic. Either one would make me a convicted criminal and get my visa revoked. Which is no good.

So I’m gonna cancel on him. But I’m only gonna let him know that like an hour before we are supposed to meet up. Let him look forward and be excited all about it for days….and then finding out it’s not happening an hour before. The way I see it, if he wanted me in his life he would have made an effort the first time around. So fuck it. I’m done.






I’m not gonna let him pull the same shit again on me.

It's.....complicated

I have so much to write about. So much. But I dunno where to begin or where to end or how much details I wanna give. But seeing that I have been gone for a while now, it’s only fair that I begin with the juiciest bit in my life right now:

 

I am dating.

 

Two guys.

 

At the same time.

 

It’s not like what you think. It’s more complicated then that okay. It’s complicated. Don’t judge! It’s not like I want it to happen, it just did. It’s like I woke up one day I realise “Oh wow….I’m dating two guys….When did that happened?” And no, they don’t know bout each other. Oh dear God in Heaven and Ceiling Cat…I hope they don’t. Ever. Never ever. You guys have no fucking idea how fucked I will be if they find out about each other.

 

Even blogging bout this is risking it.

 

Anyways it’s not like I’m exclusive with either. It’s just dating. Since when did dating become an exclusive club? Never, that’s right. Wait, is it? Fuck I dunno. I am physically and emotionally exhausted these days. Juggling two guys is not easy. I dunno how those Muslim men who have like 2 wives or more does it. I mean….wow. Impressive man. More power. You bastard.

 

So right, so one of the guys.....he’s Number One. I know him from uni. He’s geeky and sweet and adorable. He has curly hair and dimples whenever he smiles. I like him a lot. In fact he was the guy that I mentioned in my previous post, the one that I have been waiting to go out with. The thing about is that….him and me. We have been doing the whole….dance since February. That fucking long, okay. Flirting and teasing and “Oh lets meet up for coffee” thingies but not actual…..official dates.

 

I mean, he is fucking dense okay. I know he’s geeky but holy fuck…..dense! My friends told me to drop hints that I like him. And I have! Bitches, I have been dropping hints like Japanese fighter pilots drop bombs during World War 2 okay….and still Nothing!! He gives me all these indications that he does like me but….. nothing.

 

Pussy okay. Pussy.

 

 

Pissed me off. So I begun liking him round Feb, became a full grown crush sometime in late March and then when I finally could no longer drop anymore hints without coming off as fucking desperate…I gave up on him. This was like early May. I can only wait for you for so long till you realise that you like me back and grow a set.

So I was like “Fuck this shit, fuck it all.” I was tired of waiting and I am a hot blooded woman. I have needs! I cannot sit around waiting for him to like fertilize his balls and grow a pair okay.

 

 

Your loss, Geek Boy.

 

 

So this whole inner turmoil happened sometimes in May. However the moment I gave up on him romantically, my life became easier. It was like a weight has been lifted. I no longer feel nervous to call him out just to hang out or chill. When you gave up on the romantic part and decided to just become friends…..it’s easier you know.

 

So that was that. I wasn’t meant to be. Que sera sera.

 

It was about two weeks ago that I was at a house party. The music was blaring, the booze was flowing, people were getting drunk all over and I decided that it was all too much for me. So I stepped out for some fresh air. He was there. No, not Geek Boy. Number Two. He was standing alone. I smiled at him and just stood there. We kinda stood there in silence till he offered me a ciggie and I told him no thanks cause I don’t smoke. Somehow we started talking, it was good. I can hear music in the background but where we were it was relatively quiet. Well quieter.

 

Then I mentioned that I was hungry and as it happens there was this 24hours pizza place across the street…so we went there. It was about 1 in the morning. It was good conversation, good pizza and I had a good time till my friend called me completely freaking out cause I was missing from the party. I told her where I was and then as it turns out we need to leave cause someone called the cops and we need to leave before the cops get there. Some shit like that. It was about 3 in the morning. So I told him that I had to go…before I left he reached across the table, held my hand and asked me if he can see me again. On Monday. It was Saturday morning.

 

 

I said yes. Duh.

 

 

Then we had that date on Monday. It was good. I also found out that he is….as in turns out……is in the Army. I was like “Wait, I’m sorry what?” He was like “Oh yeah. I’m an officer too. But a low ranking one. Just a lieutenant, nothing big.”

 

 

……………………………………………

 

Hoooollly fuck!!!!!!!!! You guys remember my fascination with men in uniform right? Wow bitches….dreams do come true. But I was all cool and blasé outside. I was like

 

“Oh wow….the army. What an interesting line of work. What made you chose it?”

 

What I really meant was:

 

“OMG!!! PUT ON YOUR FUCKING UNIFORM NOW SO I COULD JUMP YOUR BONES RIGHT NOW IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS MOTHERFUCKING RESTAURANT! YEAH BABY YEAH!!!!!”

 

I didn’t. But I wanted to. Oooohh how I wanted to….

 

Anyways….he was a bit of a badass. The night I met him, he had scuffles on his knuckles. When I asked him what happened, he was like “Me and my boys got into a fight with these idiots the other night. But its cool now.”

 

Hot.

 

The Lieutenant……he’s exciting you know. He’s a badass. Like he has this rough, quiet, rugged…..thing goin on. And every time we go out, he always held my hand and when he’s talking and I’m not looking at him he would tilt my chin up so that I would be looking up at him.

 

Hot sial.

 

 

It’s soooooo difficult to act unfazed and cool around him. But I have to you know. It’s too early in the game to let my guard down. Dating is a game anyways. But wah….he’s hot. Not the way he looks. He’s average looking, but the things he does…..exciting and……dangerous. In a way. I feel threatened by him. But threatened in a very......fascinating way.

 

 

If you get what I’m sayin…..

 

 

So that’s him. We had 2 dates, not including the pizza place.

 

Then last week I was having a problem with my assignment, so I called Geek Boy. I mean he is dense but he’s smart with studies. He is a geek. I was on the phone with him and I was like “Hey, how do I do question number 3. It’s rather vague and it’s such a bitch. I dunno how to go about it,” He explained it to me but I don’t get it so he was like

 

“You know what, I’ll get out of class and go to the library okay. So that I could get online and help you better with it.”

 

“Oh shit. You’re in class?! I’m so sorry. It’s cool. I’m so sorry for disturbing. You don’t have to leave class.”

 

“It’s allright. I don’t mind. For you I don’t mind.”

 

I was like….okay. What the fuck? But hey, maybe’s he being a good friend. You know…..Good. Friend. So I played it cool. Like nothing happened. Then a while later he buzzes me over MSN and helped me with the question. Like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

 

Then I asked him if our Tuesday movie thing still on. Usually on Tuesdays, Geek Boy, MiniSkirts and I go for movies together. Just hanging out. Nothing out of the ordinary. As it happens, my friends and I was also going out clubbing that night. So I asked him to join me. He can bring friends. No biggie. Then he said, and this is verbatim:

 

“No, not tonight. I’m too tired from all the assignments to go out and savour every moment with you.”

 

 

WHOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT COME FROM?!!!!!

 

 

I sat in front of the computer screen completely dumbfounded. I didn’t know how to react to that….like exactly. So I played dumb.

 

 

“Oh that sucks. Would have been nice to have you there.”

 

 

All the while, in the inside I was going “WTFWTFWTFWTFWTF?!!!!!”

 

 

And then we chatted some more, bla la bla and I mentioned how stress I am cause of the assignments and the coming exams and he said “Let’s meet up on Tuesday for that movie. And I’ll give you a hug to make it all feel better.”

 

 

Waaaaah, it was like he grew balls overnight. It was amazing.

 

 

So Tuesday came and I went to see the movie. I wasn’t sure that it was date. Cause it was rather vague, wasn’t it? And besides he wanted to watch an action movie. Who watches an action movie on the first date? Seriously. Anyways, any doubt I had disappeared when I saw him waiting for me at the cinema. Holding a single sunflower.

 

I might have mentioned to him months ago that my favourite flower is the sunflower. And that a single sunflower is so much sweeter then a whole bouquet. But I said that….like in fucking March.

 

Duuudeeeee…..He remembered dude. He remembered.

 

So we went to watch the movie and he didn’t even try to put his arm around me but we were leaning into each other. The cutest part was that, there was this one sweet moment when the hero dude kissed like this chick in the movie and since I was practically leaning against him…..I could feel his heart beating like crazy. It was sooo cute. He was nervous as fuck. And then after a while…..he moved his hand and held mine and he wouldn’t let go all throughout.

 

I was like “CD, what the fuck are you doing? What about the other dude?” But another voice is saying you know, it’s only dating. And it’s not like its exclusive. And you did like him since Feb….and then you gave up….and this shit happened.

 

So. Much. Drama.

 

Then before the date ended, he asked me when he can see me again. And he just stared at me with these eyes…..and it was like a little puppy. It was so cute. I told him Friday. Let’s meet up again on Friday. This was on Tuesday. He smiled and he said “Good, cause I wasted too much time already.”

 

Geek Boy has got all the lines bitches. All the lines.

 

 

Then when I got home, The Lieutenant called.

 

 

“I want to see you again. Are you free on Friday?”….and I said. “No, I made plans. Let’s make it on Thursday instead.”

 

 

I honestly do not know what I’m playing at.

I am yet another schoolgirl...

I remember my first crush.

I was 5 years old and he was a prince. No totally, he was. His name was Eric and he was this 2-dimesional character from Disney’s the Little Mermaid. See, I did not know that it was a crush at that point. I just liked looking at him. It wasn’t years down the road did I realise that it was indeed a crush. My first crush. And on a cartoon character no less.

 

 

The second crush I had was on this boy from kindergarten. My playdate. I thought it was a crush…and I’m pretty sure it was. Nothing happened though. Cause well, we were kids. However years down the road when were both 13….we did ended up dating for a bit. Til his dad got relocated overseas and that was that.

 

 

Forwarded years down the road, the awkward teenage years and there was another boy. A cute boy. Man, I totally had a crush on him and my crush was the source of amusement for all my friends. I remember that in the beginning, I was totally into him and then somewhere along the way I got over him and then he turned into a huge joke. Well not him, but the idea of him and I kept pursuing him cause it was funny. Cause my friends and I wanted a laugh. We scared the poor boy half to death. I wonder what happened to him.

 

 

And then there was of course these other boys that were cute, that I liked but just because I was bored. Made no impact on me, just one of those things that you do. Clive Owen does not enter this conversation cause he is not real. We are talking bout actual guys here. Flesh and blood instead of…well my sordid fantasies of a Hollywood star. Nope time flies.I grew up. Memories, friends, ex-boyfriends…haven’t had a crush in ages.

 

 

Till I get here. And met him. And now it’s back to the embarrassing school girl crush I’ve thought I have left behind so long ago. I’m too old for this shit. I’m here to study. I have to focus. Soldier on. That fuckery.

 

 

But aaaahh…my lips are saying no. My heart is going “Don’t go crazy on me biotch.” But my loins….oh how it verily throbs with mad desire....

Bring on the unknown, bitch.

Not including today, I have exactly 4 days left in Malaysia.

 

People ask me how am I feeling now? Nothing much really. Any anxiety, any excitement, any emotional bullshit that I should or should not be feeling at this point in time are all overshadowed by this room fuckery. Not to say that I do not have a room, I actually have like 5 now. Found them through real estates websites. I just do not want to send in money online and commit myself. I mean, everything sounds fantastic online, people are trying to sell you shit so everything is sugar-coated, and then when you arrive at this supposedly magnificent room….the ceiling’s leaking, the bus stop is too far away and you are living an hour away from college. Or maybe even worst, it’s just a scam to get your money. Renting out a room that don’t exists to international students. Shit like this happens.

 

 

So I will be staying in a hotel a couple of days when I get there while I meet up with realtors to see where is best. If you’re thinking “Hey CD, how come you’re not crashing at your friend’s place?” That’s a simple question, its cause I have no friends there. I purposely chose a university that I do not know anyone of. I always wonder why people go overseas and study at these places where they already know people there. What’s the point? What’s the point of going far away only to be with your own kind, to be with the same people, to always, perpetually stay in your comfort zone? None really. There’s no growth.

Same shit, different time zone.

 

The reason why I can’t ask people to find a room for me is cause I don’t have anyone I know there. Even if I do, I won’t ask for help. You can only go so far in life if you always depending on the sympathy of people. Here I am with family and friends. I live comfortably, I have a car, and I always have money. There I will not know anyone, I probably will not be able to live comfortably, I will definitely not have a car and without doubt I am going to be broke. Oh I haven’t mentioned this. My dad is cutting me off after the third month.

 

Financially.

It’s his rule. He pays for the tuition bill and the rent, but he’s not gonna give any allowance after the third month. By the fourth month I’m there, I should be able to hold a job already or starve. It’s my Dad’s way of teaching his kids of the “real world”. My sister waited tables through Law School. Technically my dad paid for Law school and she only have to support herself but woman totally played the whole “Paying for law school through waitressing” thingy. My brother worked two jobs when he was in America. And now it’s my turn. My friends asked if there is a way of getting out of it, like if there’s a way I could have him still gives me money after the third month but to tell you the truth….I rather not.

 

First off, it’s unfair to my sis and bro. They both got cut off after the third month, why should I be any different? I mean my sister could work through Law school; my brother worked two jobs while studying for a double degree and still managed to graduated top of his class. I mean, fuck man. I’m not in Law school, I’m not doing double degree….if anything my circumstance is easier then them. Plus it’s an ego thing you know. I don’t want to be known as the weak one just cause I’m the youngest. Plus I don’t want to be 81 years old and have my parents tell my grandchildren on how Grandma CD was too useless to hold a job and begged Great Grandpa to give her money when she was in Australia.

Seriously bitches, till my dying days I will not hear the end of it.

My dad and his tough love methodology….But that’s the point of studying abroad. It’s like a rite’s of passage, the moment in life where you stepped out of your comfort zone and see what you made of. Here, I’m the pampered Drama Queen. There? Who knows? But that’s the thing about life. It’s all about freefalling into the unknown. And your dad cutting you off and you have to starve for days on end. And yeah…fun.

 

So how am I feeling now?

 

Contemplative. I’m contemplating life…..and where I stand in it.

No, I will not chill.

So anyways, the reason why I am not updating regularly anymore is cause I am worried sick here regarding my accommodations in Aussie. Last Friday I received an email from the uni stating that I do not get an on-campus room so ever since then I have been looking for off-campus accommodations. The moment I received that email was the moment when the thought of being homeless stop being funny and ridiculous, and begun to become terrifying. So excuse me, but my mind is preoccupied these days with something more important.

 

However I will take this time to stop obsessing about the state of my homeless-ness and take a break from refreshing my inbox to check if anyone have email me a reply regarding my off-campus accommodation enquiries and address something that have been pissing me off. You know how you tell someone your problem and then you expect them to tell you something soothing or maybe an advice of maybe just you know, be there for you. They don’t have to actually do anything but be kind and considerate. This is what people do. This is why people have friends or significant other, for the comfort and security.

 

One of the most annoying shit to me is that when you tell people your problem and they reply it with this: “Chill chill.” What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I know those are just words, but they are the most fucking annoying words ever. I can’t fucking stand it. I think it is very rude and it’s pissing me off.

 

I dunno about you, but when I tell someone of my problems, the last shit I wanna hear is “Chill chill”. I know what you mean is “Relax”,  but why can’t you say that? By using that term you made my problem insignificant, something that is not worth your time, something you brush off because it is just some rantings by an idiot. If what you mean is relax, then fucking say relax. By saying “Chill chill”, I am not going to chill, I am going to go off even more. Where the fuck is your sensitivity? Who the fuck are you to belittle my troubles?

 

I would understand if you say “Relax, breathe.” I would, but really “Chill chill”? Seriously, I deserve better. Or maybe it’s just me. I am a Drama Queen and I am overly sensitive these days. However I still think that when I am crying and asking your support as a friend, you could have done more...said something else. You could done more then brushing it off as something insignificant. You could have said something better then “Chill chill.” 

You could have actually cared.

Goodbye and thanks for all the...help...

It seems that all I’ve been doing in 2008 is saying goodbye. Goodbye to my sister, to friends who transferred before me, to the friends I’m leaving behind…and it’s not easy. Saying goodbye is never easy. With every goodbye your heart aches a little… a lot, depends really...but with every goodbye I’m saying goodbye to a part of me too.

As of Dec 4th, I am no longer a student of HELP University College. I was a little bit emo because of that…okay a lot. That’s why I was on hiatus. Now, I’m not saying that HELP is awesome, it is not. Seriously. They’re always fucking around with our results, the classes are all fucked now that they are expanding the campus- so much so that we don’t even have proper, designated classrooms anymore and dude- don’t get me started about the lack of cafeteria.

Nonetheless, HELP has been a huge part of my life for the last 2 years. The memories I formed within those halls, the joys I experienced, the drama I created just for the kicks, the cute guys I spied in class, the assignments I plagiarized, the gossips I heard…and perpetuates, the embarrassing moments in time….but most of all the people I met there. Those people who at first were nothing more than strangers who just happened to sit next to me in class, who tapped my shoulder asking to borrow a pen, who got thrown into a group assignment with me, who stood in front of me in line, who just happened to smile as I walked by…strangers who in time turned into friends. Strangers, who are now my good friends, people who will always have a place in my heart.

I remember the things I’ve said before starting in HELP. “Oh, I probably won’t make any friends.” “Private college kids are just rich, spoilt brats- I’m not included.” “I probably won’t get close to anyone cause they’re all backstabbing bitches.” “Bla bla bla.” What differences two years have made. How I am now forced to eat my own words….

Now that I am at the end of my 2 years stint; I will no longer have days when I wake up at 6 in the morning, groan and then yelled out how much I fucking hate HELP. I no longer will give dirty looks to the snobby old men who worked in the library. I will no longer curse the damn internet connection in college. I will no longer bitch bout the office administration. I will no longer screamed out vengeance on the lack of parking spaces in main block…or smell like the mamak after lunch. Those things are no longer part of my life. And for that, I am thankful.

There is joy in moving on and leaving. But there is sadness as well. At least I will always have the memories- the good ones and the bad ones. And when it comes down to it…when things are at end, that’s all you have right? The memories of what was once. And the friends who will always be part of you, no matter how far you go in life.

Goodbye.

Endings could be joyful too you know...

Today is my last day in college. Okay, last day for going to classes in this college. Next year I will be flying off to complete my degree in another country. My degree is like this international twinning program thingy, hence the need to fly off. Next week is my finals, and after the 4th I will be done with this college forever.





Wow.





I feel ecstatic. I feel free. I feel so fucking ossum. I'm moving on bitches, I'm moving on. I know that this high would eventually wear off and then I will become sad and nostalgic thinking of the friends I'm leaving behind. Then all I'll have of this period in my life would be the memories we created together. The in-jokes. The stupid arguments. The drama (most of time created and made possible by me). The endless stupidity. The joy and laughter. Parting is such bittersweet sorrow. But for now I am ecstatic. I am joyful.





I am experiencing the feeling of satisfaction that could only be felt when one is taking a step forward in one's life. A feeling of progression. A feeling of complete and total ossumness.





So no, no bitching post today nor any stories regarding my adventures into stupidity (and God knows how many of those I actually have). Today I am zen.





Today.....I am happy.

I'm racist. You're racist.......So what happens now?

Disclaimer: The following post deals with issues concerning racism. It could be hurtful to you. It could also piss you off to the point of wanting to track me down and kicking my ass. So if you don't feel like reading an extremely long post in which I ponders the issue of racism in all my pseudo-intellectual glory, then don't. Unlike the real world; freedom of choice still rules supreme in the blogsphere.

***************************************

Let's be honest here, there is a bit of racism in all of us.

If you can honestly say that you are not racist, at all, then you my friend are a liar. We are all racist. It comes with the upbringing. When we were growing up our parents, our relatives, the people of our own race who associates with us......well they inject a certain something into our subconscious. It is called ""racial superiority". The case in which we view our race, our people as better than anyone else’s. This shit is like Sociology 101 yo.


Now how we are going to deal with that racism is up to us. We can choose to remain being racist or we can choose not to. Me? I have selective racism. It is shameful. It is wrong. I should get my ass whooped for it….but then you know, no matter how ossum you guys think of me, I am still but human. A constantly dramatic human, but still human.



You wanna know who I am racist towards? Chinese teenagers. Yes, do I hear uproar out there? Yes of course I do. But please before flooding my comment box with hate comments, let me just get some points across. I am not racist against all Chinese teenagers; I am only racist against those supa kawaii ones. The ones who find the need to emulate Japanese street fashion, to be anime themselves, the ones that wear top to bottom pink, the ones that talk like fucking bimbos……and those are just the girls. The boys, God the boys are another story all together.


But I do notice that this damn fucking annoying anime/Japanese/Harajuku behaviour are most of the time attributed in Chinese teenagers exclusively and because of that I am racist towards them. Please note that I am not racist towards the Chinese, just the supa kawii ones. I have Chinese friends, I watch Chinese movies, I think Lee Hom is a hot piece of ass and remember geek boi of which I had a………..sex dream of? Dude’s Chinese. How’s that for not being racist against the Chinese?


The second group of people that I am racist towards are white people. Yeah I know. Contradictory ain’t it? Am I not the one who goes on and on about how I wanna bang Clive Owen’s within an inch of his life? And clearly, he’s white. Do I not idolize Kelly Clarkson, and look at her- she’s white! Am I not blogging in English, which we Malaysians recognize as the language of white people? I mean go anywhere in Malaysia and speak a bit of good English and you’ll probably get comments that go along this line: “Berlagak lah tu, sebab pandai cakap bahsa omputih.”

Let me explain. I am not racist towards all white people. I am only racist towards white people living in Malaysia. Now I dunno whether you guys notice but white people living in Malaysia, most of them, they think they are so much more superior than we the locals. Cause they’re white. Just because we are all brown and suddenly they’re white in the sea of brownies, they think they are so much superior to us? It does not help that most Malaysians cannot escape the colonized mentality and view them as better than us. And because of this, white people in Malaysia think they can take advantage of us. They can skip queues, get discounts and bla fucking bla just cause they’re white. They think they can get away with anything, just cause they’re white.

Shit pisses me off.

And no, my selective racism is not limited to other races only. I am racist against my own people too. Malay people. Yeah I know, I am here to declare that yes that the Constantly Dramatic One is Malay and I take an active role to not be associated with people that I deem to be “too Malay”. The ones that I like to label as “kampong”. I mean the ones that only want to watch Malay movies, religiously watch "Akademi Fantasia", go for those damn "Sure Heboh!" bullshit. Yeah….those. I am racist towards them.


I view myself as more modern, liberal, hipper Malay whereelse they are the outdated, boringly traditional and kampong Malays. They in turn, do not view me as a modern, liberal or hip with a positive spin to it….They look at me and think that I’m a skank for not dressing in the typical Malay fashion, and that I am going to burn in Hell for being me. They also accuses me of bringing shame to the Malay community for being “liberal”. They are as racist towards me as I am to them. The cyle of hate that comes with racism is a vicious one.

So you see, I am racist. I will not deny it. But I am selectively racist. I do not blindly hate a group of people just because what I heard or because I have been thought that my race is “supposedly” superior when compared to everyone else’s. I hate them for reasons that make sense to me. So does it make it okay for me to hate?

Of course not. It’s hurtful.



I’m sure what I wrote about being racist towards Chinese teenagers have angered…well Chinese people out there. I’m sure what I said about white folks would lose me my international readers and I’m sure somewhere out there some Malay girl is reading my blog and going “Oh dia ingat dia bagus sangat lah sekarang? Betina sial.”…or you know something along those lines. Because let’s face it. Racism hurts.

So why am I bringing all this up? Why am I airing my racism out to the world? Because, I just recently encountered such blatant racism myself. I encountered it from someone who I think of as a friend. I thought he was cool....then I stumbled upon his blog and I found these gems:


“……………Waiting for the other guy, he stood there, the book in hand, and the place it below his lip and on his chin, the way you would place your fingers below your lip when you're thinking. OMG, the bloody Malay idiot. I just wanted to slam his face along with the book into the counter repeatedly. If he wants to get that personal with my book, let him have the whole shebang, I'd have shoved it up his ass if it didn't interfere with morals... and laws against assault.

Unfortunately for me, the book was the only one they had. Argh, kill kill kill. And if anyone wonders why I believe majority of Malays are uncivilised imbeciles that I wouldn't trust to even be my slave, let them go spend a night with Mr. Bookaphile over there.

Genocide, here we go!”

And this:

“…………show me a malay who seemingly doesn't exhibit traits of imbecility and/or incivility, and I'd prove you wrong.”


I mean, wow. Can you guys just feel the racism in that? At first I was shocked; I always thought he’s a cool guy you know. He doesn't show his racism in real life but every other post is about how he thinks Malay people should be rendered obsolete. Once the shock is over, I became extremely angry. And I just wanna track him down in college and kick him in the balls. I did. Then I thought of attacking him in my blog and then it occurred to me that……….wouldn't that be totally hypocritical of me?


I sure am not as racist as him. I do not want to commit any genocide and no I will not hold it against his people for the things he said………. but to judge him on his opinions of my people, his racism, when I’m in turn is racist too? That’s just wrong and shallow of me. But just because I can think sensibly about this does not mean that his words do not hurt. And that’s what racism is all about. They hurt, they anger and all that’s left is hate.

I have stopped being angry with him. I have also decided to stop being his friend. I don’t think that I could associate myself with someone who clearly looks down on me just because of my race. But of all things that I take out of this, most of all…is pity. I feel sad for him. If you read his blog and if you know him in real life as I do, he is a very clever guy. Quite witty too. But that’s just so much hate there..... I do not know where this hate for Malay people comes from. I do not know whether it is justified. I do not know. What I do know is that, it’s such a damn shame to have so much racism and hate in someone as young as he is.


We are all racist in our own way. It's just a question on how far we let the racist in us go. Do we let them dictate the way we think or view a person of a certain race without any justification? Or do we hold on to our racism but accept a person, albeit begrudgingly, if they turns out to not be what we have envisioned? Are we happy to lead our lives with all these hate and in turn pass it down to the next generation? Could we ever live in a world in which there is no such thing as racism, be it individually or institutionalized? Will the cycle of hate, unjustified suspicions and blind arrogance ever end?

I understand the idea of choosing a part of yourself to be the centre of your being. Gay people wear their homosexuality with pride. It is what defined them as individuals. I choose my dramatic antics to be the centre of my being. The thing that defines me as an individual. But sadly for him, instead or choosing his cleverness or his wittiness or a thousand other good qualities that he has as a human being.....he instead chose his racism to be the centre of his being. The thing in which he defined himself with as an individual.

He wears his racism with pride.

And that is the most saddest, heartbreaking thing I have ever encountered in my entire life.