QUESARAH

10.05 PM on the last day of 2004, and here I am. Sitting on this familiar chair, facing this familiar screen and typing out a very familiar post. I typed out my last post for 2003 without having a clue how the next year will turn out. All I knew at that time of writing was that I ended it with a rather corny vow about being better, smarter, stronger in the new year.

And now that the mystery is solved, and I do know how 2004 turned out what with it having only 2 hours left in its lifespan, I wonder what can I say that'll summarize 365 days into a few choice paragraphs?

One of the things they teach you in a Journalism course is to not ramble. Always have an angle, and always aim to "tighten" your focus. Sentences should not be long, but relatively short as to not confuse your readers. So summarizing an eventful year should be easy right? I must be a lousy writer then because I don't know where to start.

Who would've thought that a year as memorable as 2004 would leave me pressed for words? In my head, the memories are all there in full technicolour glory.

The time she got into a drunken rant in Genting.
The time I realized that limaus work very well to put a drunk person to sleep.
The time we went to watch Incubus live.
The time we got into accident with a notorious Penang motorcyclist.
The time we all looked so good for prom.
The time we had that breakthrough lunch at TGIF.
The time where our Marketing assignment got 0/25.
The time we presented The Budget to everyone.
The times I was happy beyond being.
The times when we were all in love, and how it all ended.
The time we dripped oyster sauce over the Bastard Neighbour's laundry/rags.
The times we sat and cried over each other's predicaments.
The time we all graduated with our Diplomas In Communication.

Good times, bad times. Regardless, we certainly lived the year. We didn't let oppurtunities pass us by, we seized the days, we felt each and every painful emotion, we rejoiced over those precious moments when Life Was Good.

To the people who have been a part of my 2004: Thank you so much for your presence. Just wanted you guys to know that you left me with some wonderful memories; you should know who you guys are.

To the rest: Here's to a great 2005.

If growing older meant learning something as the years go by, I think I did good in 2004. It's still early to count down, but it's just about the right time to move on. :)

love,
sarah.

My family, who has left me all alone for 6 days, are 15 minutes away from home! And we're going for supper! Why I'm so happy, I don't know!

Whee!

I'm just a simple girl at heart. Family + food = love.

The title says it all. What an entirely strange but eventful Christmas weekend I had. Who would've thought that spending it without family could be so .. well, liberating? I have gone from non-driver to designated chauffeur in the past 4 days and it's been interesting. So far, no fatalities on my behalf and the car is in one shape. Now I can breathe a sigh of relief. Driving in a packed Hartamas on Christmas Eve is no fcking fun. Besides the festivities, shopped a lot (too much *wince*), ate a lot, watched DVDs a lot and was very merry.

My heart goes out for those who were victims of the earthquake, and the tsunami in Penang. I was at McDonald's silently cursing the kids screaming their heads off at the playground, when my friend showed me the sms her mom sent her. I thought it was a joke, because hey it's Malaysia. We do not get natural disasters. I read the sms, waited for some stupid Christmas punchline, thinking it was one of those forwarded sms-es but it didn't come. The text ended with "6 reported dead".

Felt very shaken for a while because who would have EVER thought a tsunami would hit Malaysia? And an earthquake that is reportedly an 8.9 on the Richter scale? It just goes to show the unpredictability of nature, and our own immortality. You just never know. There's bound to be an aftershock, and websites say that the next 72 hours is crucial. Right now, all plans of the New Year Trip is very tentative because situations are so dangerous. And who can really have the heart to celebrate when so many have lost their lives?

Strange times, indeed.

Ho shite. Today is a momentous day, as my mom, who has been terrified to sit beside me when I drive, actually agreed to me taking her to a nearby shopping mall for some late, late Xmas shopping. I was beside myself with glee. Once I show her that I don't crash cars into barriers for fun, I'm pretty sure she'll okay me driving around.

So there we were driving on the main road, barely 5 minutes into the drive, when a police car signals us to pull over. I started having panic attacks. Talk about bad signs, and on the first drive with mumsy. WTF could I have done wrong within the span of 5 minutes?! Briefly entertaining the thought of speeding off, I decided to pull over la. I mean. Seatbelts, check. Not using handphone, check.

We wound down the window, still dumbfcked as to what was wrong. My mom was already thinking it was my fault, and I was afraid this was going to be some attempt just to get some cash off us, what with the festive season just around the corner (3 days!!). They wanted us to get out of the car; we giggled nervously in what we hoped was a good example of womenly wiles, and when the officer asked me "Boleh keluar kereta tak?", I fidgeted and said, "Tak boleh, boleh tak?" Now, I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that 1) BM is very poor so didn't phrase it properly 2) Was so nervous, since I still didn't know what I did wrong.

Turns out I didn't. Sweet relief. I knew that if it was my fault, it would be the last time I drove. Ever. Just that my mom's ancient car's rear number plate had faded, and one of the brake lights kaput-ed again. THANK GOD LA. Said thank you to the officers, and sped to get the problems fixed right away.

Second time doing Xmas shopping this week. Went late night shopping at 1 Utama last night, but since it was late night, didn't get everything needed thus, me getting a heart attack while driving to the mall today. Have not gotten everything for the kids in Singapore yet. Parents and brother are heading there tomorrow.. and what will I be doing?! EXAMS! PRESENTATION! *cries* I have not even finished reading my notes yet. Sigh.

As I picked out the gifts for my cousin, I felt a real pang of sadness. I wasn't going to be around when they open it, and that's depressing because they're so young, and they have this amazing glow on their faces as they tear open the wrapping paper. And I'm going to miss that; I'm missing the Xmas dinner, I'm missing driving around Singapore and stopping at the Esplanade to talk and bond with my parents.

No doubt I have my own plans, and they look to be quite fun .. but tradition's tradition. It's an annual drag sometimes, but when you don't get to be part of it, you feel more isolated than anything.

You know what's scary? Make-up. The line between looking gorgeous and looking like an 80s pop star reject is unbelievably thin. A bit too much of blush there, a smidgen of lipstick on your teeth, too heavy a coat of mascara resulting in spider-eyelashes .. dear god.

Make-up and its amount of varieties scare me a little. No matter how many magazines I may read, I'll never be half-decent at applying make-up. Even if I did practice, it wouldn't really matter because there was no way I'll let myself walk out the door with my "experiments".

When I was younger, I went through the typical phase of rummaging through my mom's make-up and clothes, and putting them on. In Standard 4, I joined the choir and was thoroughly excited that my first performance would require me to wear a bright yellow dress with puffy sleeves, adorned with plastic flowers. And make-up. Blue eyeshadow, pink blush and red lipstick. Basically, it was a choirful of ABBA-lookalikes. I remember going to 7-11 after the performance, and the cashier staring at me. No joke.

But since I'm older, and much wiser now (heh), and especially since my field relates to media and perceptions, I know now that all the things they write about make-up being able to turn you from ugly duckling to sizzling swan (sounds like good food) is basically exaggerated. No doubt it enhances, but it is no way going to make you look like Angelina Jolie. (Regardless of how much smoky eyeliner and eyeshadow you pile on)

Then again, my reluctance towards using make-up may just be me. I don't really have the confidence to pull off make-up. I'm afraid of smudging it, or the Malaysian heat melting everything off until all that remains is like a very bad watercolour painting.

But I have seen some examples of bad make-up, oh yes. I'm often horrified, not only with their delusion that what they have on their face actually looks good, but at their friends for letting them walk around thinking they've just walked off an advertisment. They can't possibly think they look good do they? But we can't blame them really, when some of the women behind cosmetic counters put as much make-up on. And these are the people we're supposed to trust with our make-up issues?

Now you see my predicament? I think make-up is one of women's greatest weapons, but I have no idea how to use it. Magazines are filled with complicated terminologies (blending, priming, etc, like assembling a nuclear warhead) and make-up professionals cater for the more mature generation.

So. Until someone educates me about the finer points of making up .. I will stick to whatever it is I have been using. You don't fix what's not broken, eh?

(Unless. It IS broken and friends are letting me walk around like a clown. Noo.)

I could not tahan the green any longer.
So now I have dots that'll entertain me til I cannot tahan them any longer as well.
Which is bad because there are only so many templates to choose from.
*bites knuckles*

I am blogging to un-stone myself.

I did two CD reviews today- Michael Learns to Rock and Nu Virgos, which is a band of 3 porn stars trying to be singers basically. Songs include titles like Who's Your Daddy? or something along those incestual lines (it is thaaat forgettable). Their album title was "STOP! STOP! STOP!" and they are also known in Russia as V.I.A.Gra which THEY say stands for Vocal Instrumental Assemble and 'gra' is Russian for 'game'. WTF does that mean?! It would have been more believable if they just said they were talentless and are relying on their sex appeal, which they have in abundance. And this is how they look like:



I want to give myself a pat on the back for actually spinning the CD and painfully listening to them, instead of just plagiarizing some review from Amazon. How's that for journalistic ethics.

An iPod seems to be on the Christmas list of many bloggers, I noticed. So I'm not going to say that I want one too ... although I would really, really like one, mini or otherwise. But no, it's over a thousand ringgit and to have someone spend that much on me feels wrong somehow. So what I want for Xmas are these:

Christmas cards. REAL, physical cards NOT e-cards.

BIG box of strawberries, as seen in Jusco 1 Utama a few months ago. And I'm still wanting it. That's how far a fetish will go for me.

Voucher to take my digital photos to be developed, because I have a lot and they all mean so much to me.

A new organizer, or a refill. Depending which one I see first.

Bags, one for college i.e big, roomy, able to store my big ass digicam; and another for girly night outs and dates.

Compared to lists of the past which included items like "a kingdom to rule with an iron fist", this one seems pretty modest.

I'm going to watch Phantom of the Opera tomorrow and I'm excited because my dad used to play the soundtrack ALL THE TIME when I was younger and I now subconsciously know most of the songs by heart. My dad's so into musicals that if he wasn't married I'd swear he was gay. These were some of stuff I was forced to sit down to because my dad kept raving on and on about it:

Fiddler on the Roof ("If I was a rich man, da da da bla bla gibberish")

Oklahoma! (fell alseep watching this)

The Sound of Music (hur hur. Take your pick and I'll sing it)

Oliver ("Who will buy this beautiful morning?")

Grease! (this I absolutely loved. "We go together like, du bee du bee gibberish")

Mary Poppins ("A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down!")

Cats ("Memoryyyyyyyyyyy. All alone in the mooooooooonlight..")

Jesus Christ Superstar (um. I don't remember this one, except that there were alot of dramatics)

It is no wonder he gets a bit stricken when he hears Nelly's Hot In Here and changes to Light & Easy, which I unfortunately add, that I know every song they play as well because their songlist reads like my dad's CD collection.

Because of the goodness of Nadiah's heart, I was able to drag Krystle along for a free one-day trial pass at Fitness First, Menara Maxis yesterday.

It was raining pretty hard when we reached KLCC. When it rains in KL, all madness breaks loose. Outside Suria, cars were honking non-stop, and people were waiting for taxis in this long line, or just loitering around waiting for the rain to clear.

I, on the other hand, get bloody confused. I walked out and turn left, and kept walking and walking but no Menara Maxis was in sight. And I KNEW that it was just right next to KLCC so where the hell did it go?! When we reached the corner, it was quite evident that I made a mistake so I called Nadiah who told me to TURN RIGHT. Not left. And true enough, Menara Maxis was right next to it. Grr. That wasn't all. Since I'd never been to Menara Maxis, I didn't know where to go in.. so I stood in front of a clear, glass thinking it would slide open and realized that it was well, clear glass. Not to mention the whole confusion about getting the Menara Maxis cards to gain entry to the lifts... not much to say about that just that am quite lost with unfamiliar protocols.

One thing about gyms is that everyone's really nonchalant about everything, or they're trying HARD to be nonchalant about anything. The first sight we were greeted with upon entering the women's locker room was a gloriously, stark naked woman. I don't know how I did it, but I nonchalantly glanced away. Even Krys, who is by far the most polite person I know, didn't make any mention of it until we got into our lockers and I turned to her and whispered, "DID YOU SEE THAT?", in the most jakun way possible.

Stark Naked Woman was oblivious to her surroundings, and cackling into her mobile while throwing clothes into her gym bag. Even from our lockers, which was across the room and shielded from the sight of the exhibitionist, we could hear her giggle her way into her clothes. I think Miss Exhibitonist was one of a kind, because she was the only naked woman I saw that day. Everyone else was quite shy, walking around in towels and ducking into the changing room to put on their clothes.

(Sorry to disappoint the men who would choose to enter a women's locker room should they become invisible for a day. :D But out of curiousity, do men walk around nekkid in their locker room?)

It's quite a different experience going on the treadmill and looking out into the chaotic KL traffic while you're safe and warm/sweaty inside. You almost want to scoff and taunt those stuck in the horrendous traffic. At one point while I was on the cycling er, machine, I leaned back and watched Maroon 5's "Sunday Morning" video and in a while, forgot that I was exercising. It was strangely comfortable. Krys and I spent an hour and half there, exercising, if you would believe it. At 4.30 pm we were sweating profusely, and I started to get the wheezies. (OMG what an entirely juvenile way of putting it.)

Also, I guess this was expected, but a gym's a lot like a club which boggles me because everyone's probably looking their most unattractive there, what with the sweating and grunting. Still, everyone gets stared at, especially the women. I don't think I've been checked out so many times in an hour as much as I was when I was there. I don't really think it's an achievement or anything, it's probably just the typical behaviour in gyms? Because I was observing, and every girl gets checked out. And the men with biceps, good god, do they know how to flaunt it. It's like, "oh dear, my water bottle's right there. No worries, lemme just stretch my muscly arm and pour the water everywhere but into my mouth."

I made that up but I don't doubt that that COULD happen.

But all in all, I had a lot of fun. If I was working, and had steady monthly pay I would definitely sign up. But as of right now, I'm still struggling-student-epitomised, so I'll just add MEMBERSHIP TO FITNESS FIRST into my ever-growing wishlist ... which will be up shortly for anyone who likes me enough to buy me something!

Yes, no? Ah nevermind. PFFFT :D

Hellos all. I've had a fairly busy week. So far. Just gonna type one out really quick and simple because it's 15 minutes before The Amazing Race and if you know me, you'd know I'd never miss that.

I have rubberbands in between my molars right now, in preparation for the metal that will be coming in soon-ish. It hurts like a biatch now! I was huffy and smug when my orthodontist put them in because I didn't feel much pain. In fact my mouth felt really normal. "Hah!", I thought, "what pain is everyone talking about? I feel no pain! Huargh (*supposed domineering growl)! I am woman, hear me roar! Etc."

But apparently my smugness have turned around and bitten me firmly on my arse because I cannot eat right now. Well, I can eat. I guess the more appropriate term would be that I find it really difficult to chew food. So for two days now I haven't had any solid food. Last night's dinner was bowls of soup and today for lunch I tahpaued a styrofoam box filled with tau foo, cooked in different varieties and oh yes, brinjal (love them mushy purple things). No rice because the thought of chewing makes me sick. But it's all good with me because I'm fanatical about tau foo. Really. Whenever I can, I always have some taufoo on my plate.

Meesh looked at my lunch and said, "Hah! You wait la, you're gonna be skinny by the end of all this."
(Hur hur hur. And exactly what's so wrong with that eh? Eh? Eh? ;) )

Today's Communiction and Culture class was fcking amazing. To usher in topic 3, which was about subcultures and pop cultures, we watched a documentary about the rise of the grunge scene out of Seattle in the 90s. I've never had a class more entertaining. There we were watching Nirvana's first gig and their first performance for Smells Like Teen Spirit, and these grunge rockers remarking how stupid it was that grunge became the IT FASHION because they wore flannel and long johns because it's freaking cold in Seattle, whilst everyone else is wearing it for the fashion. USD$300 for a flannel shirt? Insane!

On the past Saturday, I even went for a Punjabi wedding dinner. Great experience. I've only ever been to Chinese wedding dinners, so I was quite relieved that there was NO karaoke by drunken, old men. There were however, drunken old men. Period. Dancing and shakin' that thang. Haha. Them Punjabis sure know how to have shitloads of fun. There was a Bhangra dance performance (where Meesh and Ash showed off their moves), and later- A DANCEFLOOR. AUGH WHY DON'T WE CHINESE HAVE THAT? My dancing was definitely overshadowed by the amazing gyrations of the other people on the floor. Eventually it was funner to sit back and watch, because my Chinese hips just could not take the vigorous sh-sh-shaking.


They had the dinner at Thean Hou Temple near Seputeh. Talk about muhibbah spirit :D! Hall looked great.


Bhangra performance. You can spot Meesh and Ash... if you know how they look like la.


Check it out la, damn fun. There were 700+ people present, but I don't know how many were on the dancefloor.


Like a scene from a club.

I was spinning free, woah... with a little sweet and simple numbing me. Stumble till you drop, woah.. sinking into sweet uncertainty>> "Sweetness", by Jimmy Eat World.

Everyone always makes a big deal about how old I am. (I'm 19, if my attention-whore of a profile fails to catch your eye) I can't count the times where I've met people for the first time, and they've enquired on how old I am and are sufficiently surprised when they learn I'm still in my teens. Oh damn yeah, I am still a teenager.

I've not associated myself with being a teen in a really long time. It's not because I'm anxious to grow up or anything, it's just that the excitement of being a teen isn't there anymore. I remember when I was 12, and was so looking forward for Aug 1 1998 to come because that would mean I would be 13, thirteen. Being a __teen was like some sort of a novelty. A product of too many Sweet Valley High books, and shows like Saved by the Bell and such.

Being a teen was associated with so many things that were "cool" for us primary schookids. Things like first kisses, first boyfriends, "high school sweetheart" (never had that), parties, fun, and all those things that seemed so elusive, grown-up and teenager-ish for a 12 year old. I think at that time a lot of us hoped and thought that secondary school will be a lot like what was being described in books and shown in TV. I think we all wanted to go for dances, and blossom from the proverbial ugly ducking into the swan. We hoped we were part of the popular group, we hoped that we'll have admirers, we hoped that we'll get the straight As. Bottomline, we indulged in a lot of wishful thinking/dreaming. Is it just me?

At 12, that was what made me want to be a teenager. I couldn't wait. So now I've been there, but I can't honestly say I've done all the thats, and I'm okay with not having the IDEAL teenage experience. I had my fun, nonetheless.

Now I'm at the end of my teens, not even 21 yet (oh god I really am young aren't I??) and my curiousity is starting to get all piqued again by yet another age I can't wait to be introduced to: the 20s. Joining the workforce, bitching about the bosses, earning my own moolah, panic attacks (:p), having a long-term relationship, buying my own apartment, going on vacations financed by myself ..

Life's basically a collection of experiences, and if that's the case, being young is the ideal.

Suria KLCC, Dec 2003. Lookit, there's even a choir singing at the base of the tree!

It's December! As usual, I'm finding it hard to digest the fact that it's already the last month of the year. 12 months don't feel or even last that long actually, in retrospect. Still, much to do before the year ends- midsem exams to pass (and during Xmas week as well, pooey), wishlists to make, new year resolutions to draw out, braces to put in mouth, New Year Eve plans to confirm ..

And then, roll in 2005. When you look at the new year coming around, it's pretty intimidating in a sense that it's like a clean slate again; you get to restart. I don't know whether to feel excited about the possibilities, or scared of the uncertainties. "By the time I recognize this moment, this moment will be gone"- I guess I'll just have to seize the day, take each day as it comes and welcome a host of other cliched phrases. :D

My house is being haunted by an overzealous entity called the Christmas Spirit. My dad brought home a tree today. Not your average, every season plastic, pine tree. Oh no, Xmas has caught up with the times- my dad brought home a fibre optic Christmas tree.

I didn't even know that we had fibre optic ones! Woah. It's the prettiest thing too- has all these lights that light up by themselves at the ends of the pine "needles", and alternates between blue-ish hues to reddish hues. We haven't decorated it yet, but the lights look good enough to stand on its own. Great! Less effort from us! :D Thing is, I quite miss decorating a tree though.. we haven't had one in 3 years. But this year looks to be the comeback of Xmas into my house- I think my dad even got fairy lights to put up.

Sigh. I really, really, really love Christmas. My heart's all warm and fuzzy already, just thinking about it. I still have these really vivid dreams of being in New York City one day during Christmas season. Perpetuated by images I see on TV no doubt, but it's a dream, nonetheless. I guess we all need something to look forward to as the years go by, and we all get that little bit older, wiser, cynical .. we all need this escape; a goal which isn't completely far-fetched, but achievable with the right amount of resources (ergo, money).

One day, I know, one day. Til then, still dreaming of my white Christmas. :)