http://noviwijaya.blogspot.com

I’m moving, so follow me there. You know you want to.

On a last note, here is my new favorite singer, Marie Digby.

She’s pretty like a doll, sings like an angel, and plays piano handsomely. How can I not like her?

“Stupid For You”

It’s not everday
That I find a person quite like you
Perfect every way
I finally found the nerve to confess that it’s you – that I want
I don’t care if I act a fool
I would damn near beg for you !
Put aside, all my pride
So don’t keep me hanging here
Cause this girl is falling stupid for you..
Stupid for you..

The proper thing to do
Is for me to act like a lady and wait
For you to make the first move
But I don’t think you’re getting the point
That it’s you – that I want
I don’t care if I act a fool
I would damn near beg for you
Put aside, all my pride
So don’t keep me waiting here
Cause this girl is falling stupid for you!
Oh, oh stupid for you

Why’s it always feel like I am
Chasing love when nothing’s there
And here I go just making the same mistake…

I’ve fallen stupid for you..

It was one of the times where I really didn’t get enough sleep the night before, and then to make up for lost sleep, i’d start sometime between 7 pm to 8 pm, and wake up refreshed in the morning.Well, that’s the theory…

So much for theory.

The practice is somewhat different. I went to bed at 8, and was asleep when about 20 menit after 8, I heard obnoxious, loud noise coming from in front of my room.

The tutoring had begun.

Fuck.

The downside of living in a boarding house? It’s a boarding house. Means there are other boarders beside you. And some of the boarders are stupid high-school student who need private tutoring so they don’t flunk high-school math/physics/chemistry.

Yeah, I had a tutor, too in high school. But it was five or six tutors for more than a hundred student, and the fee is cheaper than my high school tuition and I didn’t have to had everything explained to me in a dumbed-down manner and in obnoxiously loud voice!

A lot of my fellow boarders are actually high school student and almost all of them had tutor over and the tutoring went on in front of my room. Wonder what is fucking wrong with their own room.

But their tutor was this one guy, who I had met since I moved in, and his voice was not loud. Well, I can still hear him in my room, but it was more like a whisper. This other teacher came with a new girl that just moved in, and his voice? I can hear all the emphasis used. Like tonight? He was teaching about mirrors, lenses, and fob, and sok. Whatever, SOB.

So I was awoken, only 20 minutes after I slept. Then I opened the door, looking for the ‘Hey-someone’s-in-there-even-though-the-light’s-out-must-be-because-she-was-asleep-let’s-keep-our-voices-down. And did it succeed?

NO.

Then I got frustrated and started playing music. And turned the volume to maximum.

Hey, two can play this game.

Somewhere between the sixth or seventh song, I get creative and started to lower the volume and max-ed it in the refrain. One of my favorite song was “Shut Up” (Simple Plan).

Yea, I can be very petty at times…

The choice, I mean.

I’m the kind of person that has difficulties choosing between grilled chicken and fish and chips.

Let me elaborate… I went to lunch with two of my girlfriends. One decided she wanted sandwich, one decided she wanted grilled chicken. I had wanted grilled chicken but somehow I didn’t want to get the same thing with my friend. I decided I wanted the fish and chips. But then as the waiter came to take our orders, I had a second thought. No, I’d like grilled chicken after all.

See how bad I am at making choices?

It’s one thing to decide what you’re going to have for lunch. It’s another thing to decide what you are going to do for the rest of your life.

Whether you wanted to get a job, get a master’s degree, or marry a good-looking and rich and considerate man who exists only in Fairytale. Or get a transgender operation and change your name into Pearl or Crystal and join the gangs of she-male in Thailand.

Whatever works. *shrugged*

So here I am, 1.30 in the morning, my brain has once again declared war against sleep when my body is all for sleep.  I have tidied my room, took an IQ test (I scored 138 by the way…yay) and am writing a post on my blog and still I am not feeling sleepy. I am actually considering buying sleeping pills. Counting sheep sucks. I always lose count after a hundred or so.

Back to what I was talking about…

Wait, what was I talking about?

Oh yeah…choices.

I’m not even capable of making choices regarding my lunch, so that begs the question:
How am I supposed to trust myself to make a choice regarding my future?

And I can quite let other people decide for me, either. I can ask opinions, yeah, but bottom line is I would have to make that cut.

It was beautiful back then, when your path is set. You know. Elementary school, secondary school, high school. It’s gets a bit tricky when you have to choose a university but at least then it’s still quite narrow. Now it’s…

Scary.

Yeah…

I guess it’s part of being an adult and what-not, but truth be told, I’d rather be a child forever and live in pink-colored world.

Oh wait…But then, I cannot wear stilletos or drink alcohol or– I’d better stop there, in case my father is reading (yeah, fat chance).

I’m signing off… Off to (hopefully) Dreamland. TTFN…

Well, that makes the two of us. I would also like to know my research objectives and/or focus. *grin*

I would’ve never pegged myself to have a doctoral degree. When I was a kid, I pictured myself going into university and studying Accounting (sort of a family profession). And then I go and work somewhere. And then…

Well, my picture stops after I got a job. Not much of an imaginative kid, granted.

Now?

I’m not entirely sure, but it involves Paris, dresses, a dog named Buttercup, lots and lots of shoes, and a handsome tennis player who is also a concert pianist.

I’m kidding of course.

About the dog’s name.

But at least it’s not Marylin Monroe. That’s such bad taste. I think Marylin Monroe’s turning inside her grave as we speak. And poor Tinkerbell. I presume the poor Cihuahua is dead or is in an animal pound?

Well anyhoo…they asked me questions like, “What kind of research area are you interested in?”

“Ummm…well…”

“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

“Ummmmm…well…ten years is an awful long period of time. So…umm…

“Why do you think research is for you?”

“Ummm…well…I am a very curious person…?”

Um…well…

I just got back from a wake.

It is 1 in the morning.

And then I go into the bathroom, and in the hurried-ness of things, I fell on my bum.

Yes.

Like in a cartoon, you know, where characters stepped on a banana peel and then fell oh-so-funnily?

I did that.

Yeah.

Sans the banana peel.

And sans the funny factor.

Really not funny.

Now my back aches like shit.

I’m twenty-one but I feel like a-hundred-and-twenty-one years old.

Yes, the morning where everyone is asleep. Everyone except for owls, burglars, children who wore awoken by nightmares, people who are in the middle of a Grey’s Anatomy DVD-marathon, super-secret spy, people who live in the other side of the globe where it’s still mid-day, and people who took a pill for headache.

The pill for headache contains not only 500 mg of acetaminophen-slash-paracetamol, but also a peppy 65 mg caffeine.

Western medicine is so advanced.

What next, they’re gonna put sildenafil citrate in cough syrups?

Yeah, next time I ran out of coffee, I’ll just take one of the pill.

Yay for happy, bouncy, insomniac me!

Bye now, gonna try counting sheep.

Oh, by the way, sildenafil citrate? Viagra. In case ya don’t know… Lack of sleep makes people do and say and write ridiculous stuff.

Today, about 1977 years ago Christ arised from the dead. Must’ve been pretty freakish for Mary Magdalene, and the people who saw Him died and then saw Him walked about the streets three days later as if nothing happened, but awesome for us! =)

Sola gratia.

Me: Do you have any alarm clocks?

Shop girl: Yes, we do *motioning the various clocks on display*. What kind do you want?

Me: Umm…the cheapest one.

Yes, I lost it this morning. No, not my alarm clock, unfortunately. Sadly, it’s my cellphone that I lost. My cellphone which has always doubled as my alarm. And since I have trouble waking up even WITH an alarm, I thought it’s be best for me to find one soon.

Damn, I love that small, sleek, sophisticated, scratched phone.

T___T

RIP, dear cellie…

After spending all night with my eyes wide open, I finally get my test results.

“Test results” sounded like a pregnancy test or an HIV test, huh?

But no, twas that English test I thought I botched up.

Last night I turned off the lights, covered myself with blankets and pulled Forrest the Basset hound with the sad eyes. Then I closed my eyes, only to open it again within the next thirty seconds. Anxiety came washing. I’m not really confident with how I did. What if I get a 5?

After that my eyes are wide open. Until three in the morning.

And that’s how I overslept and missed class.

But I got the results at one o’clock, and I got an 8.

Quite satisfactory, won’t you say?

Yeah, not bad.

…

*Victory dance*

Yes, prayer works! Now let’s pray that I got crowned Miss Universe. XD

No, forget that. Pray that I got a scholarship to France. See, my wishes aren’t exactly unrealistic, right, Dad? =)

8.5 for listening, 8.5 for reading, 7.5 for writing, and 7.5 for speaking.

Thanks, Marge!