Monday, December 28

Why I Wanna Go Back To KYUEM This Time.




  1. Clean air.
  2. No nagging about state of my room. I want it slightly messy cause then I KNOW WHERE EVERYTHING IS!
  3. Daily lunches with the loved one(s). =)
  4. Seeing the outoftowners (cheh! =P) again.
  5. Give Suman his effing present.
  6. Fish nights (cause this usually means a great bonding session over cafe food.)
  7. Making fun of the lovable Mr. Conquest and Mr. Brookes and proudly say that we’re their last batch of seniors.
  8. Jamming room in close proximity.
  9. Watching and commenting on the 10/11 SC and House elections.
  10. Get A-Levels OUT OF THE F*CKING WAY SO I CAN F*CKING FLYYYYY!!!!!!! WOOOOO!

I like No. 10 the most. Sure most of you would agree. =D

Saturday, December 19

Happy Is Sad

My car, Happy, broke down today. Poor thing. The fan’s not working.

The car doctor’s coming on Monday. *fingers crossed*

Pray for him, all.


Also, reminder. Visit aimanarif.tumblr.com! =)

Thursday, December 10

Third Post In 24 Hours! I'm On A Roll!

Okay, yes. I have seriously decided now.

Tumblr will now be my social blog. Due to its ease of use, it will now feature (theoretically) more frequent posts and lighter content. This blog will mainly be used for essayish posts, short prose (in the increasingly rare cases that I produce any) and generally 'sit and think' topics.

Here I'm trying to keep this blog relevant and serious(ish).

So go to http://4stringfrequencies.tumblr.com/, and see the Aiman that is fun (HAH!) and happy (HAHAH!).

See ya. = )

On Onety One.

I have recently formulated a theory that will blow everyone's (yes, even you) mind.

Have you ever wondered. Why 11 is pronounced 'eleven', when it should clearly be 'Onety-one', i.e. "WUHN-tee-WUHN"? Like. 21 is 'Twentyone', and 34 is 'Thirtyfour'. Similarly, I think that 11 should be pronounced (and would be if not for the reasons I suplpy below) 'Onetyone'!

BUT

Ah, here's the 'but', ladies and gents.

I posit that the reason why we refer to 11 as eleven and not onetyone is solely because of CORPORATE CAPITALIST PIG CONSPIRATORY CABALS. Yes, my friends, these CORPORATE CAPITALIST PIG CONSPIRATORY CABALS (CCPCCs) are the reason why a whole NUMBER SYSTEM has been raped of its regularity and logic!

See, the CCPCCs have a little something they call the Law, or as I like to call it, SOUL CRUSHING CONFORMA-RULES (SCCR) with which they came up with something called a 'Trademark'. With this 'Trademark' comes the necessity to ADVERTISE, which is, as we know, a regular tool for any fascist-whore CCPCC. ADVERTISE here meaning 'to destroy the very substance of what is called the human thought process'.

Now, previously, advertising has been limited to newspapers, radio, tv and tap water. But it is not enough for the capitalist bastards! They want MORE! They want to extend their reach so far that our own unborn children will enter this world with the desire to buy the latest Nike shitshoe!

HENCE, my friends, the CCPCCs (manifest in the 7-11 corporation) hath altered an entire NUMBER SYSTEM to surreptiously ADVERTISE their CONVENIENCE STORE CHAIN!

THINK!

Whenever you say '11' after '10', don't you immediately think of that goddamn chain of stores selling crappy stuff that's just down the street? Don't you feel the urge to grab a $20 overpriced Slurpee from the CONFORMA-BOT running the counter?! They WANT you to, my friends.

The CCPCCs have blocked reason and logic's true path in order to advertise 7-11 in every single acdemic lecture that mentions '11'!

Yes.

But we shall fight, my brothers and sisters. We shall fight.

Join me. As from now on I boycott the pronunciation of "Ee-Leh-Vehn". I will now say "Onetyone", and refer to the number after 10 as such.

And for the sake of your dear soul.


I hope you do too.

Wednesday, December 9

The One Where I'm Caving In To Peer Pressure

Well. Everyone's been updating their blogs, so i kinda feel left out so here I am with an update, haha.

This is my routine.

1. Up at 11ish.
2. Breakfast, shower and brush teeth (in that order)
3. Crack open yon Maths textbook in preparation for...
4. Maths extra classes! (yes, extra classes. I only call it that cause I dowanna call it tuition cause of My ego. My EGOOOO!)

Grrr. I finally agreed to getting outside help for Maths a coupla weeks ago. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel lame sitting down one-on-one with a teacher and being retaught all the crap I missed from Ms Aizan's class. But, hell. It's time to swallow that pride. I need the help and denying that's just gonna destroy me in the long run. So yeah.

In other news.

People have been getting uni offers left and right now. UCL's replied to medics, and have looong replied to Economics applicants. So has Warwick, Manchester, Kent and most other places. I know LSE typically replies (positively) early in the entry year, but I applied to UCL's Philosophy dept (shut up!), and despite diligent Googling, I have no idea what's a typical reply date for them. Rawr. Reply, damnit! Please? = (

.. This blog needs an overhaul. And a more focused approach. I'm sick of opening up a new post and typing ala stream-of-consciousness. Maybe that'll be my Thing To Do of the week.

Tuesday, December 1

Song Of The Moment - Monkey Wrench, Foo Fighters

Yeah, yeah, i know I was supposed to move to tumblr. But to be honest, I don't have the energy to learn a whole new blogging system. Nope, i'm fine in the rut i've dug for myself here already, thank you. It's getting kinda familiar. Ha. Ha.

Whoa. Deja vu.

So here's the thing. Oxford's officially rejected me. = ) About time, I say. After weeks of waiting, finally knowing for sure what I suspected all along is absolute relief. And i was down about the rejection, obviously, but much introspection and a weekend in a world-class metropolis hinted that i might eb happier in a London Uni. Which I hope will be true. We'll see.

For now, it's time to divert my attention to more worthy causes. These are:

1. Ezmira Nadia
2. Mathematics A2
3. A Foo Fighters cover band


Yes, a weekend with her ain't enough, and i am shameless enough to say that in front of the whole world. Oh, yes. (This is, of course, conveniently ignoring the fact that a total of 2.3 people actually read the crap i pour onto this blog)

Mathematic A2 is retarded. No, wait. Read that as I am retarded. Why is it that everyone can understand this stuff except me? Grrr. I am determined to find out why, and i'm going to find out soon. Bring it.

Finally, instead of spending my free time at home downloading legally-questionable and sexuall explicit content off increasingly dodgy P2P sevices, i will (hopefully) round up a bunch of people ragtag enough to call ourselves a band and we're gonna play Foo Fighters, just for fun. Not expecting anything to come out of this, 'cept a helluva good time and hopefully an improvement in rhythm guitar and vocals.

Finally. my new earphones. I must gush about them.

For those who do not know. Earphones. And quality audio hardware. Are the objects I get hard-ons for. Yes. Ask the Singapore gang how long i spent scoping out a pair of cans before I finally bought 'em. And yes, i bought 'em. I paid SGD 139.00 for a pair of Sennheiser CX 400's, and, baby, let me tell you, i do not regret it one bit at all.

The sound on these things is magnificent. Treble is loud, well-defined and crisp. The lows have a respectable thump, but they need a liiiitle more definition (or maybe that's just bad iPod hardware). But these things are perfect for metal, grunge and most guitar and string stuff. It can pull of techno okay, i guess (I base this on the single techno track on my iPod) but i think bassy hiphop and crunk (or whatever you kids call stuff that's on the charts these days) won't sound THAT good. Still good, just not, 'boom' good, y'know?

So there's my impromptu earphone review. Next up, 'How I Piss Away My Sem Hols'.

Buhbye. = )

Wednesday, November 25

Notice Of Address Change

I might move to tumblr within the next week.

If so, this blog'll be inactive, and you can continue following me (Haha, yeah, right) on the URL i'll post when my tumblr's up and running.

Later!

Saturday, November 21

Mak Kau Part 2

Thank you, Ezmira.

For convincing me I'm probably not as much of a wash up as I thought I was.

And thank you Amelia.

I know I can always count on you to have my best interests at heart. I love you girls.

= )

I do.


..

Anyway.

I'm home!

I just got my new iPod an OtterBox case! Yay!

.. It broke within 6 hours.

Well, not really. The silicone covering just tore a bit. Still.

Singapore trip this weekend! I sooo cannot wait. We're (Bubakr, Ariff and I) planning to take the overnight train. Now that's gonna be interesting. = D

Thirdly.

Mish and Kesh just got their Oxford interview invites. Merton. Where's my letter? Don't leave me hanging. = ( I'm cool if you don't want me, just tell me already!

Okay.

I realise I'm mostly typing in sentence fragments now. Probably cause I need to pee. So i'll stop here.

Happy Holidays everyone! = )

Sunday, October 18

ZOMG II

Hello, ladies and gents.

It's been a while, hasn't it?

Yes, it has.

Guess what. Aiman. Is not (touch wood) failing at life as bad as he thinks he is!

Why?

Because he just recieve one of those things called a 'Conditional Offer' from the University of Exeter to read Economics and Politics! HAHAHAH! YEAAAAAAAA-

.. AAA with Maths at A.

-EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAA- what?

Aw, fu- nuts.

= (

Okay, not studying for Maths is not funny anymore.

Time to buck up, man. Gonna use the offer as one of those motivational posters. Yepyep. Eye of the tiger, eyeofthetiger.

In other news.

US uni applications are MESSED up.

There're like. Twenty different forms to put in. Teacher evaluations, college transcripts, midyear reports, SECONDARY school reports, aghhhhh. And I haven't even started on the essays.

I reeeeeaaaally wanna go to Chicago, mommy. = (

Ah, well. Working on it, I am.

Also. (Haha, really looong post.)

I've discovered the joy of Switchfoot. I was listening to Meant to Live, Wiki-ed them (the band) and came across all their songs. And, whooo. Did they hit the spot. The layered sound and the keyboard tone that screams 'Salvation!' was just.... Awesome.

But, don't worry, I haven't lost me appreciation for Heavy Metal. Velvet Revolver's my current addiction. And Chickenfoot! Agh, there's so much to say! Okay, calm. I'll tell you guys the rest over the following posts, which will be more frequent, i promise.

I'm gonna go now. Mrs B's watching. = )

p.s.

Listen to this!

The Last Fight - Velvet Revolver.


Friday, September 4

Stuff I Did Today.

Hell of a past few days. All culminated in last night's phone call.

Sigh.

Anyhoo. Not gonna be tooo down about it. There is hope, you know.

Just so you know, I'm talking about the Econs semester paper and my future scholarship plans. Mmmhmm. Exactly what i'm talking about.

It's time to focus, people. Today's Econs paper was easily THE worst one I ever sat for.

The GAPING holes in my economic knowledge have been revealed. Now it' s gonna take a hell of a lot of effort to patch them up.

It's not funny anymore. Econs A2, Maths P1, S1, P3 AND S2, Computing AS (with a project that's fit for toilet paper) and History A2. Add this up to the extra-curricular stuff, you have what the pros call a recipe for disaster.

Watch Nonnel, Aiman. That's what you wanna do. You wanna end up where he is now. Focus.

Okay, enough whining.

I cleaned my room today. = )

Rearranged it too.

The Feng Shui of my room is now at optimal conducive-ity to facili-ma-tate the studyments required to ace my examerations so i can do the progress to university thing.

What am I doing?

I don't know anymore.

What's she doing?

...

..

.

I don't know anymore.

Tuesday, August 25

To Fluffy.

I can't find the words to describe the total awesomeness of the past week. Haha!

Regardless of -

a. The Mathematics AS & A2 Trials & Sem Exams
b. An ever-growing pile of unread History notes
c. Feeling increasingly lost in A2 Econs
d. A Computing AS Project deadline that seemed sooo far away but is now sooo near

I am..

Dare I say it?


Happy!

(oh, crap, i did)

You know why. = )

(witness the full might of my vague-osity)


Mmmmf.

Things've been going my way, I'd say.

I'm staring at the back of my right hand now.

You know why as well. = )

Now to read up on Perfect Competition!
To Stanlake!

Thursday, August 20

Why Don't You Come A Little Nearer?

I feel like a kid. Butterflies in my stomach, tongue-tied, sweating slightly. = )

My 1st sem dream might be coming true after all.

We'll see how it goes.

= )

They're Looking Up, I'd Say.

First of all...

CONGRATULATIONS and THANK YOU!!

To the Sapphireans for your support during the MCB, particularly Kammy and Jijul. Couldn't have done it without you guys.. Sorry I couldn't be there. = (

I don't have any pics, else they'd be allll over the blog.

We're getting there, people. Not always about who does Boria best. When HAW and Bangsawan come along, HAH! Feel the raw power or Kamilia, Haq and our technical team! Juniors. Be ready. You have a hell of a year ahead of you. = )

Secondly.

WOOOOT!

SAPPHIRE 1st RUNNER UP IN INTERHOUSE NETBALL!!

Awesome, people. Glory to Sapphire. Thank you Yatz, Sya, Ashee, Aqiedah, Mika, Kammy, Maddy, Faddy, hell, thank you to all you girls! You girls are great. Guys. YOu too. Thanks for your support.

Also, finally,

Thank you to Mr Ravi for his participation in the interhouse cooking competition. Without you, sir, it wouldn't have happened at all for our house. Thank you. = )

That's all I have to say. For now. Take it to the limit, people. = )

Monday, July 27

Sprung!

So KYUEM's closed for a week. I believe sufficent coverage has been given to that topic on every other KYUEM blog, so i'm not gonna overdramatise about that here.

However, 'tis to the events after the great announcement of College Closure (that shall forevermore be known as the Great KYUEM Epidemic of 2009) that I wish to draw to my reader(s) attention.

So Sutherland says 'College closed!'

Yay and yaddayadda.

Packpackpack, then go home (in Uncle Johan's Vios with Darimi, Kesh, Amelia and Wen Zhen and a CRAPLOAD of luggage that we managed to fit in the car through strategic application of skills learnt in many hours of Tetris) and arrive home pretty late, around 8 (ooh, rhyme!).

What's waiting for me?

Phone call.

Mom : Aiman! Where are you!

Me : Um. Home. I've... been meaning to call... (nervous look)

Mom : No, don't bother, Uncle Johan's called me already.

Me : Oh! (eyes wide and stare at Kesh and mouth, "oh, sh*t")

Mom : ... So. Fly to UK?

Dad (in background) : Fly, fly!

Me : (eyes wider) But.. but but.. (is severely tempted, but has a ton of work to do)

Mom : You don't really have a choice here, Aiman.

Me : Oh. Um. Okay, then. When will I be back?

Mom : Monday night. 3rd.

(smack forehead) ... Kay.


And so I would like to take this opportunity to apologise to Sheril, and say, sorry, baby. I had a real good day planned too. = ( Aiman owes you. More. Cause he's been owing you a lot lately.

.. Kesh and Dari are staying overnight at my house tonight. Without me there. Or adult supervision. Don't look at me, wasn't my idea.

Just don't wreck the house guys.

Okay. I'm in the terminal now. Alone. In my polo shirt and blazer. Feeling like a high-powered business-type guy. It's kinda nice. Should get used to this.

Later, people. Next time you see me, I'll be in ze Brits!

Thursday, June 25

What's In A Name?

Click here.

"In an effort to brand itself as “progressive” and “egalitarian”, and move away from feudalistic connotations, the party has introduced new descriptions for its organisational structure. The supreme council (majlis pimpinan tertinggi) is now replaced with central leadership committee (majlis pimpinan pusat) while “bahagian” or division has been superseded by “cabang”, and “cawangan” or branch will be referred to as “ranting”."

Central leadership committee?

Anybody else thinking of Lenin's Council of Commissars?

PKR, you do not sound 'progressive' or 'egalitarian', you just sound out of touch with reality.

Yes, this smacks of Socialist 'egalitarian' rebranding, ladies and gents.

And before I get flamed as a crackpot Commie-basher, here're my arguments. So finish reading before you click the Comments link.

A committee, by definition, is a group of ordinary party members who get together in order to accomplish a particular goal or target.

Ostensibly, this implies that the members of the Committee are, in fact, just your everyday, run of the mill PKR party members.

So, by rebranding the Supreme Council a Central Leadership Committee, the party's saying, "Hey, we're democratic! Look! Our leaders are normal people! Just like you! And you! And you, the homeless unemployed guy who lives off his brother smoking pot over there! Yes, you too!"

I disagree with this.

Why pretend that a group of leaders that are higher ranked (and by extension, more valuable) than the other members of the party are 'the same as everyone else'?

Why pretend that the men (and women) who contribute most to the party are the exact same as the ones who join it for the glamour of being part of 'the Opposition' or, worse, the money?

I say keep the title 'Supreme Council.'

I believe that Parties are not run by Committees.

Scratch that, Parties CANNOT be run by committees.

Parties are run by councils, with a clear hierarchy and a leader that leads with integrity, with a clear succession plan to an intelligent, competent successor. There is no cooperation in leadership.

Cooperative Leadership does not and cannot exist. It is an oxymoron.

And the 'Feudalistic connotations' of the term Sepreme Council? People, the Supreme Council, i.e. the notion of an enlightened form of organised leadership is not FEUDAL at all! It is the absolute base of the modern Government! The idea of a 'Leadership Committee' is the perverted version of this noble ideal! Why are we equating the single greatest breakthrough in human governing systems with something that is ancient and 'bad'? This makes no sense.

Look.

PKR's supreme council is (mostly?) made up of competent, intelligent individuals, and I, for one, respect who they are and what they have to offer to Malaysian politics.

And so they deserve to be recognised as maybe a little better than all of us for what they have achieved as the main opposition to the admittedly slightly wayward ruling party we have now.

PKR has never been led by a committee. PKR is what it is today because of a council, a team, the leaders, men with vision, a wise group of elders and not-so-elders, and there is no point calling them otherwise. To do so would be an insult.

Calling them a 'committee' will just draw derision from Malaysians sick of these half-assed attempts to 'democratise' PKR's image (which I personally think is too democratic already). We want good government, not fancy committees. The most democratic titles in the world will not get you anywhere when the economy crashes, GLCs go bankrupt, the crude oil runs out and pop stars are falling left and right.

PKR's leadership has given much to us all, and even I, who privately lean towards the ruling coalition (they can be saved, people!) ungrudgingly admit this. They deserve to be treated as such.

Call a spade a spade, ladies and gentlemen. After all it's done for you, it's the least you could do.

Wednesday, June 24

Quickie Pt 2

My UK trip (originally planned for 28th June -12th July) has just been cancelled, due to the big swine flu scare.

And I'm understandably disappointed.

I spend much time cursing unnamed things, trying to find some way to spend an extra two weeks in Malaysia.

But then, the next day (i.e. Today) I get a call from Ms Parvin from the Yayasan Bumiputera Scholarship Whatchamajigger, and she says she wants to schedule a face-to-face interview for me on the 3rd of July, Friday.

Whoa.

And it turns out our tickets can be held for a year, meaning that we'll be going in September after Raya, in the Fall when it's not so tourist-y.

Double Whoa.

Which just goes to show you kids.

Things'll pretty much almost always end up going your way.

Now to see how long this optimism will last.

I'm gonna go read a book and try not to kill myself over my terrible Malay language skills.

Sunday, June 7

Quickie Pt. 1.

Quick update on what could have possibly been the best weekend I've had all year.

And regular readers of this blog (which number in the high 0.005s) will know that this is a rare occurence for me, as I almost never put up posts recounting my increasingly-mundane exploits.

Anyway.

Awesome weekend.

Why? Consider the following.

Friday.
  1. Came back on Friday after squash with Suman, so got the exercise quota of the weeekend filled (Ha. Ha.).
  2. Dinner with Mommy at Pasta Zanmai in OneUtama, which had surprisingly well-prepared pasta. Bloody hell, teh japanese are cooking better spaghetti than the Italians, why is that?

Saturday.

  1. Went out to buy prom suit with Mom. Yes. I'm a mommy's boy. Sue me.
  2. Found and bought the suit from Zara. A two-button this time, thank god. If I show up at a prom in a business suit again i'd be forced to go into the Himalayas and be inducted into a monastery.
  3. Came home, watched an awesome qualifying session, where Mr. Vettel snatched pole in a fantastic lap.
  4. Did P3. yes. Don't laugh. = D
  5. Noticed that downloading speed had quadrupled and downloaded The Pixies and Robert Plant & Alison Krauss tracks, and... That's it. Right. Cough.

Sunday.

  1. Woke up and got my Dad to send me to The Gardens, like I'm some freaking fourteen year old, gahhh! Happy the Car is busted, and the road tax is dead, so it was either be chauffered like a dick or drive an effing Kia Naza Ria minivan around. And that ain't happening.
  2. Met up with Sheril. = )
  3. Watched a movie, whose name shall not be mentioned here.
  4. Bumped into Hairul, MABA, Stab, Jijul, Min and basically half of Sapphire in MPH while i was with Sheril.
  5. Had a Big Mac after she left. (Sooooo good.)
  6. Watched Turkish GP. Which was kinda sucky. And I vowed to Kesh that if, in the last 10 laps, Vettel and Webber did something stupid and crashed or something I would cut my... Legs off. Thankfully, I can still... Walk. Race ended Button, Webber, Vettel.
  7. Got back to college at 11.30pm.
  8. Was so hungry I had lemon biscuits dipped in Mamee 'Buntu Pedas Terer' broth. which wasn't bad. Haha.
  9. Called her, and went to bed.

And that was my weekend. Plus this morning, I got up at like. 8.14. And rushedrushedrushed to Aizan's class, pushed the door open, panting like a bastard, and started yelling 'IMSORRYMISSAIZANSORRYSORRY' to an empty class.

Class was cancelled.

She'a at a seminar, says Kammy-who-just-woke-up-cause-Aiman-called-her.

Great.

Anyway.

That was my weekend, with a little epilogue.

How was yours? = )

Saturday, May 30

At Long Last, Ladies And Gentlemen, MANK Has Pulled Itself Out Of The Craphole That Is P25.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it is true.

P25 (a.k.a. The-chalet-of-sin, Satan's-butthole, That-place-that-smells-a-bit-funny, What-the-hell's-rotting-in-here?, That-place-where-that-Singhfella-selling-credit-lives and I-miss-Nazrin-cause-he's-clean.)

Has.

Been.

CLEANED!!!


ZOMG!!!

Yes. And just so you're sure that that wasn't a typo, here it is again.

P25 has been CLEANED.

ZOMGG!!!

Definition, ladies and gentlemen, of Cleaned:

transitive verb

a
: to make clean: as (1): to rid of dirt, impurities, or extraneous matter (2)
: to rid of corruption clean up city hall>


Yes. We have stroven(sic) to rid ourselves and the chalet of dirt, impurities, or extraneous matter, and we have gloriously succeeded!


Details of the Great Chalet Delousing, May 2009:

Personnel Involved :
  • Aiman Arif bin Mohd. Caezar.
  • Keshminder Singh a/l Bhupinderjeet Singh.

Time Elapsed Between Start and Finish :

4 Hours (240 minutes, 144 kilominutes, 864 kiloseconds)

Equipment :
  1. Two brooms (one pinched from P26. Thanks, guys. = D )
  2. Old Tshirt.
  3. Mr. Muscle cleaning fluid
  4. Five (5) trash bags (all eventually filled completely)

Things We Had To Deal With:

  1. Solid congealed fat & egg stuck on the toaster-oven grilling pan.
  2. At least 10 pieces soiled crockery.
  3. Gecko crap on the windowsill.
  4. Massive amounts of paper waste.
  5. 3-week-old Instant Noodles.
  6. 2-week old Mee Goreng Mamak Bungkus (which kinda smelled like Assam).
  7. 3 month old styrofoam & cardboard packaging, originally intended for chalet speakers.
  8. Cobwebs under tables.
  9. Coca-Cola stains everywhere.
  10. >7 pairs assorted soiled socks (eventually thrown into a bucket filled with detergent + water, to be sorted later.).
WOOOOT!

I am typing this in a crapless, spotless common room!

I'm so happy.

= )

-contented sigh-

...


...


...


Twenty bucks says this'll last 2 days.

Monday, May 25

My Sleeping Patterns... Noooo!!! Gimme Baaaaack!!!

Once again, I have slept through the whole goddamn afternoon.

From 4-8.45, I pissed away the precious hours, minutes, seconds in blissful, restful sleep.

This is the like. Third day running.

My sleep patterns are officially destroyed.

I'm sleeping at an average of 4 a.m.

And waking up two minutes before class starts.

As a result, i have been late for morning classes for the last few eternities or so.

All this with Econs AS in a week.

...

Mrs. Foord's having her open house thing now.

I'll go tomorrow.

I took my contacts out already, i'll be damned if people see me in my glasses.

...

Dayum. 6 hours to kill beofre i'm sleepy again.

Sigh.

I'm gonna look for something productive to do.

Tuesday, May 19

Don't Read This Post. Whoops. Too Late.

Outline for my plan to take over the world.

  1. Train an army of bunnies.

· Kidnap Herman's bunny.

· Put it on a strict diet & exercise regimen.

· Commence indoctrination

- Obtain projector (Available at admin)

- Obtain video montage of violent when-bunnies-attack footage (must ask Ubee.)

- Tape bunny's eyes open and strap 'im to a chair.

- Force him to watch the video while selected Jonas Bros. & Paris Hilton 'hits' are blaring in the background.

- With any luck, such a regimen will turn the bunny's brain into some sort of mushy, easily-mouldable substance.

· Continue indoctrination program for 9 months.

· Obtain female rabbit.

· Breed.

· Repeat until an 'army' of bunnies is obtained (with 'army' defined as >7 bunnies).

· Make cute little henchman costumes for the vicious, bloodthirsty bunnies.

· Train bunnies to form formidable-looking squares of troops and make 'em salute me as their Almighty And Supreme Leader.

· Make them march past me and look upon me in awe as I yell angrily at nothing in particular.

· I might skip the square moustache, though.

2. Use bunnies to hold KYUEM ransom by controlling key strategic points.

a. Resource Centre (he who has the knowledge hath the power. Or something to that effect)

b. Cafe (spike the water to zombify the students)

c. Dining Hall (as above)

d. New Block (excellent sentry point to guard the College entrance)

e. Academic 1. (Reduce teachers to state of caffeine withdrawal by removing coffee machine in lounge)

3. Kill some IELTS teachers as sign of me being serious. (too many of 'em anyway)

4. Set up satellite video uplink with Khazanah CEO.

5. Deliver following speech (whilst fiendishly stroking a fluffy uniform-clad rabbit on my lap).

"My dear, foolish Mr. Mokhtar. I have in my custody a dozen of your finest scholars. They're all here: Mr. Kumar, Ms. Low, Ms. Foong. Mr. Saadon. Ms. Ilham. Mr. Nazer. Your entire brain trust, your only hopes... Will be forever dashed. Unless (pause for dramatic effect) you give me... (Camera zooms in on my face).

A Nokia N97. (Ba-Dum-Bummmm!!!)

... Or maybe an HTC Touch HD. Either one. Make sure it's black, though. The silver one makes me look gay. (resume evil-genius voice). So, Mr. Mokhtar. Do we have an agreement? And just to show that I'm serious... (Bunny kills a scholar by forcibly jamming a carrot up his... nose. And into his brain.) You have 30 minutes. Goodbye, Mr. Mokhtar. (Screen goes blank)"

6. Await reply.

7. CEO will agree.

8. I will get a new phone.

9. Aiman wins.

10. = )

THE END.

This has been an Aiman-Typing-While-Effing-Stoned production. No rights reserved. Any and all resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

Saturday, May 16

Screw You, Karma!! Haha! .. .. No, Not Really, No.. Aww, Sorry, Baby. No, Don't Cry, C'mere. *hug*

Note: Read the post before this. I'll be damned if my sudden flux of blogposts will affect the readership of my semi-interesting semi-series. Semi.

So there I was, feeling satisfied but slightly queasy, like one does after eating too much too fast, having finished a particularly long chapter on the role of militarism in the outbreak of WWI, when Afeez comes in and says (translated form the original Perlinese),

“Aiman, let us depart for the cafe and together we shall procure nourishment and thence satiate our empty bellies.”

To which I said; “Yes.”.

Walkwalkwalk to the cafe.

We’re outside the cafe. I push the door. It rattles. I am gobsmacked. I remember that it’s a pull-open door.

I pull the door. It opens. Afeez goes in first.

Lisa and Syiqin are there. Yay. Company. Homosexual connotations of having dinner alone with a guy may now be thrown out of the window.

Ordering now. Nasi Goreng Paprik. RM4.50 (it’s a steal!) Yum.

So we sit with them. Afeez, Lisa, Syiqin and I, at a table.

Syiqin’s looking like she just woke up. Which I found out was true.

Small talk ensued. I joined in, feeling fine, feeling good.

The food arrived.

Munchmunchmunch.

Dinner’s over.

I commented on the amount of coffee I drink and the growth in the flab around my waist. Syiqin gives me the evil eye. So does Lisa. Afeez laughs.

And so, the topic naturally turns to gossip.

Who’s taking who to the prom. Who’s into who. Why’s he not replying. Is she pregnant. You know. Regular stuff.

But.

I felt strangely detached from the whole thing. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but tonight i was so. Detached. Like none of what they were talking about applied to me. Which was true. But the gossip they were swapping was (dare I say it) juicy. Yes. Juicy as it comes. But I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t seem to feel he empathy, the anger, the envy or the lust that such gossip would normally induce in a teenager. Was I going nuts?

..

The whole episode reminded of Cempaka. I was a social retard then. I am not ashamed to admit it. The retardation I faced then still affects me here and now. People there would talk. I would listen. People would get in trouble, form their (more often than not grossly exaggerated) stories, tell them with pride and bravado, and I would listen. Listen. That’s what I did and still do.

Never in the action, never the one people talk about, never the one whose name appears after the immortal phrase, “Didja hear about...?”, but the one who sits back and takes notes, watching people, wishing he had the balls to do half the shit they were talking about, but at the same time dreading to hear, “That exactly what blank did last week.”.

But I didn’t feel that tonight.

No.

What could it mean?

Does it mean anything at all?

..

The detachment I felt tonight has signified that I am over it.

I am now secure enough to listen to gossip and not be jealous that I am not the object of it.
(Yes, the fact that I was at one point jealous of not being talked about is immensely pathetic, I am aware of that, thank you.)

I am now secure in my own identity.

And best of all, dear reader(s);

I no longer need to live in other people’s conversations.


..

Does that make me mature?

Hell. I’d like to hope so.

(Next week: Reanalysis of Gossip-detachment Phenomena: is he full of sh*t? Stay tuned!)

A Third of the Continuation of the Semi-Soap-Opera I'm Semi-Writing.

The following is the continuation of the second part of the post I posted a while back titled, "Not a Pilot Episode. More of a Pre-Pilot Episode." Read that one first. Enjoy. = )

“Hey.”

“Mmmmf.”

“Hey.”

I nudge her.

“Mmmmf.” A little more annoyed.

I don’t really like to wake her up, but it is already 4.13. I tickle her side.

“Hey. Wake up.”

She does. She looks up at me, her eyes moist, shiny, even in the dark.

“What time is it?”

“Four thirteen.”

“Damn.”

Thirty seconds pass in silence, both of us unwilling to move. She breaks the tranquility.

“You know, I was kinda hoping you’d fall asleep and not wake us up.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

A smile.

Another thirty seconds of silence.

“Let’s get up.”

“Yes, we should.”

But we don’t. After a while, though, we do. She folds the throwover and I roll the mat up. It is all done without conversation. But we don’t need to talk. The subtle contact of our elbows brushing against each other and our awkward smiles were conversation enough.

“Did we forget anything?” She asks.

“Nope. There’s nothing much to forget, anyway.”

“Where’s the mat?”

“Right here.” I show her the rolled-up mat.

“Okay. Give it here.”

I give her the mat, and she places it under the folded throwover under her arm. The night is cooler than it was before, and the humidity seems to have lessened. Dew is beginning to form on the grass, and she looks very lovely in the moonlight. She is trying to tie her hair with the stuff under her arm, but it isn’t working. I take the things from her, and she smiles and starts to tie her hair.

Every girl ties her hair in a slightly different way, if you can notice it. Girls may learn hair-tying techniques from their mothers and aunts and cousins and one another, but each has her own particular idiosyncrasy when tying her hair. Hers was a strange way of flicking her head when she was done, almost like a shake crossed with a shiver and a little wiggle. I have told her about it, and she denies that she does it, and became very self-conscious about it. But then I told her I liked it, and she stopped being self-conscious after that. It made me think about the significance of the little personal tics and gestures that everybody has. I wondered if I had any.

She finishes tying her hair, and shakes her head.

“Thanks.” She smiles at me again.

“Sure.” I smile back.

A moment passes. She really is very pretty tonight.

“Um.” She purses her lips.

“Yeah?”

“Are you gonna give me those?” She points at the stuff under my arm.

“Oh. Right.”

I hold the stuff out to her. She places her hand on the bundle, but does not take it. Instead, she steps closer to me. I meet her eyes, and she is grinning. I grin back. She comes closer. The stuff begins to feel heavier and my legs seem weaker. Steady, I tell myself. She is so close. Her face is inches from mine, and coming closer. Her breath is warm, and her fringe tickles my forehead. She is so close. She places her hand on my shoulder. So close. Her fingers travel up my neck and tangle with my hair as she pulls me down and our lips touch. My head feels light, and I reach out to hold on gently to her waist for support. All I can see, feel, hear, smell and taste is her. She breaks contact, and we are dazed for a while. She is playing with the hair on the back of my head.

“Wow.”

She breaks her spell. The night returns, but it seems warmer.

“Wow?” I whisper.

“Yes. Wow.”

We stand there a while, our foreheads against each others’. She is smiling, almost to herself, her eyes closed. I am reluctant to remove the hand that has found its way to her waist.

“I have to get back or Lee’ll kill me.”

“Yeah.”

“I have to go.”

“No.”

“I really have to go.”

“Alright.”

I hand her the folded throwover and rolled-up mat. She gently removes my hand from her waist, squeezes it as she lets go. I feel like a drowning man who has just had his life ring pulled away from him.

“Walk me back?”

“Of course.”

I walk her back, and make sure she is safely inside her chalet before starting back for mine.

Tuesday, May 12

BoomBadaBoomBoomBaBaBa.

History’s in seven days. I need to study. Instead I’m sitting in the common room, typing this out while waiting for Kesh to come out of the shower. I think something’s dying in the kitchen and/or mutating and will soon kill us in our sleep. Hence, why the mattresses are in the common room.

This is a long overdue update, and I’m gonna say that every post is overdue, cause, well. They are. Unless I’m at home and REALLY bored, I can’t seem to blog about anything. I mean, even this post. As you’ve probably noticed by now, this post is more of a saying something without anything to say thing.

Why don’t I blog more often I... Often wonder. (Haha.)

Well. I guess it’s cause in this place blogs are. Very important. So to speak. They’re actual manifestations of a person’s personality here. See, EVERYONE here has a blog. Like. Everyone. Except my chaletmates. Which is ironic, I admit. But I digress. And as result, there is, as you can imagine, MUCH networking and linking and shoutout-ing and Digging and commenting and flaming between the blogs here, and no blog updates (excluding mine) go unpunished. Wait, did I say punished? I meant Noticed. Cough.

Consider the following. (Don't read it if you don't like to hear an 18-year-old whining.)


Goals for the two months ending July 2009.

1. Prove that I can get an A in Maths and hence get a freaking predicted A.

2. Maintain a healthy, happy relationship with a member of the opposite sex.


Progress completed in achieving above goals (itemised).


Goal 1

1. Slave over past papers. (Uncheck)

2. Play nice with Aizan. (Uncheck)

3. Think in numbers. (Uncheck)

4. Sell soul to God of Maths. (Uncheck, but working on it.)

5. Surgically implant additional fingers in hands to improve arithmetic proficiency. (Uncheck)

6. Use Maths book as pillow to facilitate diffusion of knowledge from a saturated area to a... Vacuum. (Uncheck)

7. Bang head on wall. (Check)

One out of seven = 14%


Goal 2

1. Overcome conscience. (Uncheck)

2. Develop confident-bordering-on-arrogant swagger. (Uncheck)

3. Lose the gut. (Uncheck)

4. Try not to mumble. (Uncheck)

5. Practice pickup lines. (Check. I mean Uncheck. UNCHECK!)


6. Change my Facebook profile picture so I don't look like a homosexual suicidal fashion designer. (Uncheck. Thank you, Surrej.)

7. Grow a spine. (Uncheck.)

8. Be an ass. (Check.)

One out of eight. 12.5%


Therefore, I am 87% away from my goals (rounding up to the nearest percent). I have about a month left.

Godammit.

Here’s another thing.

My 18-year-long period of solitude (excluding a bittersweet month in 2006) has begun to manifest itself in a particularly strange way.

I’ll talk about that soon. But my next post will definitely be connected to it somehow. You’re just gonna have to find out how exactly.

Kesh is out of the shower.

My turn.

Note to self. Must remove hair plug.