If you heard me on the radio 2 nights ago, I won the '2nd hit bandit' competition! :) Basically, people call in to guess who sang a snippet of a song. The catch is they all made one hit wonders and therefore, the snippet was from their second flop.

When it was my turn, I had no idea who it was, and told the DJ so. He gave me the clue that it was an Australian white boy rapper but I replied that I've only been in Australia for the past 2 1/2 years. He asked where I was before and I said Malaysia. So he gave me another clue.

"When you were in Malaysia, did you ever hear the song 'Ice Ice Baby'?"

Omgosh, who the hell didn't?! So I screamed out 'Vanilla Ice'. The good part is I won something or other and he said Malaysian girls are hot. Hallo, kembang sial. ;) (Yes, this is the part where I ignore that he might not be able to differentiate Japanese girls from Malaysian ones) The not-so-nice part: I know besides something else, I won Nick Lachey's album.

=.=

I don't like him.

Bah, whatever!

Trina and I have been sitting at the second entrance to the library, entertaining ourselves as we had our lunch by counting the ratio to cute guys: non-cute guys in my university.

It's 2:140. We've been here for half an hour. Isn't that just bloody sad?

Strength: We were rather lenient on deciding who's cute and who's not. Really. Although all posers in sunglasses were eliminated. Need not apply, kthxbai.

Weakness: It was the fucking library.

Guys, you ought to be happy. Trina reckons the ratio for girls would be 5:15. But that girls who was flashing her butt clad in black stretchy undies at us can also count herself out.

On another note, I have an exam this Saturday and two more next Saturday. There's also a presentation on Wednesday and I've been working at a cosy little juice bar in the city that comes with a loud Greek owner.

Doesn't my life just sound like a ball?

Remember the makeover at Mid Valley?

Yeah, I got the pictures back. *wry grin* As in, the pictures taken by the professional photographers. I took a look at them and laughed. A makeover, photographs and me = too funny an equation to get over. It seems like I took those pictures a very long time ago when in fact, it was only over a month ago.

Anyway, time to embarass myself.

My mom liked this one and chose this one to be in A4 size.
=.= X 10000000
I hate this one the mostttt!
Trina said it doesn't look like me at all in this one and I replied that that's definitely a good thing!

I have absolutely no comment. Really.

And the finale... I swear, now I know why there were pictures of Amber Chia promoting the studio.

So Amber Chia it cannot get more Amber Chia-ish!

Happy birthday, dear brother! :) Love you always. Hope you like your present!

Mom and I aren't so close as to me revealing my boy problems and such. But Mom more often than not treats me as an adult, confiding our family issues and etc. to me. Sometimes, I find that some things cannot be discussed with friends, only Mom because she'd understand and give me the right advice.

We were at the Ipoh White Coffee Restaurant in Aman Suria this morning (btw, they have the best coffee, and their roti bakar, although not original, is yummylicious). We're acquainted with the curry mee stall owners as it used to be one of my grandfather's favourite food. The aunty came over and asked how my grandfather was and my mother filled her in. I don't find it my place to speak on the topic of his passing..

After she left, I stared at the empty chairs across and next to me, and said slowly that it's strange Kung Kung isn't here. I wanted so much for him to be sitting next to me, and as he always did, passing me a few pieces of chicken that he couldn't finish, drinking coffee despite knowing that he should limit his liquid consumption. Where is the bowl? Where is the cup? Where is he...

My mom quietly replied that this is how it was. We take it for granted that people will always be here. He lived with us, so we're more affected. It's like Kung Kung became part of the furniture. I held back the tears that were prickling my eyes, and looked away from my mom, wanting to focus on anything that would take away the frustration that still sits in me, the anger that I wasn't told earlier that things were that critical.

I said, "It's like Kung Kung has gone on a holiday..."

In a way, he has. But I just want him to come home...

I have a Communications and Cultural Studies presentation to prepare for. The topic is 'Online Culture'. Guess what I chose to focus on? ;)

So... what do you think is worth covering about the blogging scene? Vincent suggested Xia Xue and her 'marketing', but I reckon it doesn't much fit the culture part. I'm paired up with an Aussie guy, so I'm leaving the Australian blogosphere to him. Only part I'm acquainted with is those of us non-Australian bloggers and ChickyBabe. :) I'm thinking of a comparison between the two, and really, I'm hoping to find no significant difference between both!

The problem with this assignment is that there is no given format. I know, that completely dumbfucked me when I first heard it. That would've been my dream come true last year. Keywords: last year. This year, I'm in university, where my studies have become at least ten times more important. What I need are good marks.

I'm not trying to find the easy way out. The thing is, everyone rates things differently. Like my links on the side panel. You may not like the bloggers I link, but I happen to think they're great, which is why I recommend them to people. It's the same with assignments. One tutor might think my work is brilliant, and another might be of the opinion that I should just give up university altogether.

Yes, it's free of format = I can do whatever I like. But doing whatever I like is not what's gonna earn me marks, no matter how much effort I put in or how bloody great I think I did. This is why I don't like this assignment already. At least if I do get a shit mark at an essay or an exam, I'll KNOW what I did wrong, why the lecturer got blinded by my responses. But with this one... oh, I'm just gonna get mighty confused and pissed off!

Sigh. Someone shoot the person who decided that freedom of expression is the best option here. Maybe some view sticking to formats as constricting, but how do we know what the tutor wants to hear? A rough outline of criteria to be fulfilled would've been great. I mean, what about the smart alec who reckons that free format means one sentence? Or the one who poured so much time into research, only to receive a lousy mark?

Kill me if my work amounts to nothing!

Yesterday, we were around Damansara Heights, dying for lunch at 3 pm. Mom asked me to suggest going somewhere near.

Me: Okay, let's go to Bangsar Village!
(I didn't want to go to BSC since I've already been there)
Mom: Go somewhere near home!
Me: But you told me to decide! Fine, you pick then.
Mom: No, it's okay. Bangsar Village then.
Me: ....

This afternoon, Trina and I were discussing what DVDs to bring back to Brisbane. My mom said Election 2 was absolute rubbish. Well, I hated the first one so there's no way I would waste my time watching the second one.

Mom: But I thought you'd want to watch it for the guy.
Me: Who?
Mom: There. Louis Koo.
Me: Oh. Nah, not for him. The movie's stupid.
Trina: I would watch stupid Daniel Wu movies.
Me: Yeah, me too. But none of his movies are stupid.
Mom: .....

Mom was watching The Apprentice tonight. I don't like Trump's voice, hehe.

Mom: Look at the guy's arms. So long!
Me: Mmm.. *peeks for one second and then goes back to computer screen*
Ads come on. I hear Lee Hom's voice and quickly turn. I crane my neck to watch the Celcom ad. Hello, sexay.
Me: So hot.
Mom: ... This one you want to watch lah!
Me: What!! Like the fella's arms so long very entertaining liddat.
Mom: .....

Dear Mom, I'm sorry you have to put up with my BS. :)

Sometimes, I sit down and rewind, trying to find the moments that seem remotely significant. Anything that might've made me the person I am today. And there're always the bits and pieces that form a pressing collage that I cannot ignore plays and played a big part of my life. Who would've thought, really?

The most recent would be my grandfather. How boldly you remind me that life is indeed fragile and it can be taken away at any time. The innocent facade has no place in my life any longer. You have made me feel like a complete adult now. But that is all metaphorical.

He is the reason why I'm alive. He is one of the important few who brought me up to adopt all these values, attitudes and beliefs that are central in my life now. Without him, there is no me. He may be gone now, but I know he's looking down on all of us, watching over us to make sure that no obstacle is too hard to get across. My grandfather taught me more than figures and facts; he taught me about life. And I really do think that being street-smart is just as important as being academically smart.

The girl who has always been there for me, as I hope that I've been to her. God knows if I've previously neglected you in favour of what I viewed as more important, and if I have, I deserve any punishment since you deserve no less than my equal attention and care to your problems. Thanks for almost always believing in me, and the times that you stood by me, probably shutting down suspicions that I was the guilty party.

Yeah, I've always been quietly envious. But hell, it's done nothing to ruin how I feel towards you. I'm accepting my flaws and our differences and by the time I'm done, I hope your patience hasn't died and you haven't yet given up on me. One day, we'll both stop walking together, and by then, I hope both of us would only have the fond memories to cherish as the years progress.

The two best friends. I barely know you today. You wouldn't have recognised me yesterday. Tomorrow is never definite. The ideals will never take shape, what more materialise in perfect form. I used to stop to hope that maybe today will be different. Maybe today we'll find the right words to say to patch things together. Maybe today we'll reminsce about the good times we spent with each other and give our friendship another shot. Maybe today, we'll do justice to 'best friends forever'.

But then I grew up. And so did you. You're both so beautiful in your own ways, and I appreciate what you both gave to me and the bond we shared. But that's where it ends. I know it's all gone with the wind, gone wherever the land of 'we used to be best friends' lies. How do I stop to wish you all the best without sounding forced and insincere?

The group grew. Where there was two now was four. And then we fell apart. Who broke the foundation? Can I blame it on you, just because you thought that our friendship wasn't worth keeping, now that you had a new man? Or you who decided that those changes you made would suit you best? What of the friend who had too many friends? And of the girl who I could never really click with because of the lack of connections?

No, I'm blaming it on myself. I didn't have it in me to let him know that I had feelings for him, and he would've easily picked you anyway. You wanted the changes, how could I selfishly ask you to stay away from what you thought would make you a better person, or whatever else benefits you sought? The social butterfly will always be the social butterfly, and I understand. And that girl who understood when I needed advice most, you never left my side when I needed you.

What lies in me is not regret that we'll never go back to the way we were, but happiness that we had the privilege to share what we did, however brief, and it is exactly what some people pray for all their lives - someone who understands completely - but never live to claim. I have but eternal gratitude to all of you, and there's nothing left to say, except that I mean it when I say that I'll always be here for you if you need me. Always.

The boy who made me see that really, most boys do think with their dicks, full-stop. Y chromosomes must screw you up quite badly. I cannot deny that some part of me will always care for you, no matter how irritatingly scandalous you are, but you taught me what I needed to know about men. You set the bar. You embrace what I never want to see in whoever I wake up in the morning next to in my future. Despite that tiny bit of envy gnawing at me, I wish you happiness with finding the right one for you.

The man who first broke my heart. Yes, you were always a man, will always be a man, and probably are THE man who is my yardstick. I'll never know why I let you walk away, except that perhaps I was too selfishly preoccupied with the things I was dealing with, too in need of someone who would be there for me 24/7 that I easily let someone else take you away from me. What made things worse is that I fell the hardest when I felt the most for you. The conversations in the past are now so blurry, but then, they meant the most to me. Every. single. word.

Maybe you taught me what I find easiest to forget, that there're always gonna be two people involved, and it's never just me, regardless of whether it's family, friends or something more. Sometimes the word 'selfless' just ceases to mean anything to us, except as some propaganda to wave about to the world. I wish I had taken the time to care, learnt to be more patient, and had your heart with me so you couldn't have found it in you to walk away just as I did...

You'll always, always have a piece of me. And I hope that piece will never fade because that is too hard to picture right now. I have enough sadness in my life now; I don't need to think of plausible future situations that will only make me hurt even more. 'I love you's are never empty when it comes to you. You gave it meaning and now, if ever I whisper those three words, they'll never be sweet nothings.

(To be continued later)